l9o( URIS LIBRARY DATE DUE "■aei .«-ia 'i*< - l#n^65 ^.M'li-"''- i^ MirS >&.J98 7 i£fjto?»*'*'?j6-^^'*' ;^' PKINTEO IN U.S.A. Cornell University Library D 16.8.H46 1901 The philosophy of history, 3 1924 012 535 633 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924012535633 A Library of Universal Literature IN F O U R PA R T S Comprising Science, Biography, Fiction and the Great Orations PART ONES CIENCE PH I LO S O P HY O F HISTORY By G. W. F. HEGEL TRANSLATED BY J. SIBREE, M.A. NEW YORK P. F. COLLIER AND SON ORIS DBRARY AUG 2 1 1987 M C M I 12 BOARD OF EDITORS SCIENCE ANGELO HEILPRIN, author of "The Earth and Its Story," etc.; Curator Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. JOSEPH TORREY, JR., Ph.D., Instructor in Chemistry in Harvard University. RAY STANNARD BAKER, A.B., author of "The New Prosperity," etc.; Associate Editor of McClure's Mag^azine. BIOGRAPHY MAYO W. HAZELTINE, A.M., author of "Chats About Books," etc.; Literary Editor of the New York Sun. jpLIAN HAWTHORNE, author of "Nathaniel Hawthorne and His Wife," "History of the United States," etc. CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, A.B., A.M., author of "A History of Canada"; late Professor of Engflish and French Literature, King's College. FICTION RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, author of "The King's Bell," etc.; Literary Editor of the New York Mail and Express. HENRY VAN DYKE, D.D., LL.D., author of "Little Rivers," etc.; Professor of English Literature at Princeton University. THOMAS NELSON PAGE, LL.D., Litt.D., author of "Red Rock," etc. ORATIONS HON. HENRY CABOT LODGE, A.B., LL.B., author of "Life of Daniel Webster," etc.; U. S. Senator from Massachusetts. HON. JOHN R. PROCTOR, President U. S. Civil Service Commission. MORRIS HICKEY MORGAN, Ph.D., LL.D., Professor in Latin, Har- vard University. CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Prof. George Hildetrand. UNDERGRADUATE BOARD OF EDITORS SCIENCE ANGELO HEILPRIN, author of "The Earth and Its Story," etc.; Curator Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. JOSEPH TORREY, JR., Ph.D., Instructor in Chemistry in Harvard University. RAY STANNARD BAKER, A.B., author of "The New Prosperity," etc.; Associate Editor of McClure's Magazine. BIOGRAPHY MAYO W. HAZELTINE, A.M., author of "Chats About Books," etc.; Literary Editor of the New York Sun. JULIAN HAWTHORNE, author of ' Wife," "History of the United CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, A.B., i Canada"; late Professor of £ King's College. FICTIO RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, au Literary Editor of the New \ HENRY VAN DYKE, D.D., LL.D., Professor of English Literature THOMAS NELSON PAGE, LL.D., Li ORATIO HON. HENRY CABOT LODGE, A.B.. Webster," etc.; U. S. Senator 1 HON. JOHN R. PROCTOR, Presiden MORRIS HICKEY MORGAN, Ph.D., vard University. CONTENTS Ta4NBLATOR'S PBEFACE It Pebpaob to the Piest Edition, by Dr. E. Gans 26 Peefaok to the Second Edition, by Db. C. Hbbel . . - . ... 39 INTEODUOTION. Various methods of treating History: Original, Reflective and Philosophical. I. Original History: Herodotus, Thncydides, Xenophon, Csesar, Guicciardini, 43-46. II. Reflbotitb History. (1) General or Uni- versal History. Livy, Diodorus Siculus, Johannes von MflUer. (2) Prag- matical Si?tory. (3) Critical History — the German method of modem times. (4) The History of special departments of life cmd thought— of Art, taw, and BeBgion, 46-51. III. Fhilosophioal History. Season, the Infinite ma- terial and the Infinite Formative Power of the Universe, 61-56. — Anaxagoras's dictum, that raus or Reason governs the world, 56-60. — ^The Destiny or Final Cause of the World. History, the Dkyelopment of Spirit, or the Realiza- tion of its Idea, 60-61. (1) The abstract characteristics of the Kature of Spirit — Spirit the antithesis of Matter — Self-Contained Existence, whose essential characteristic is Freedom, 61. — Successive stages in the appreciation of the inalienable Freedom of the Human Spirit: The Oriental World Imows only that One is Free: the Greelss and Romans recognize Some as free. The German Nations, under the influence of Christianity, have attained the knowledge that AU are Free, 63-63. The Final Cause of the World is the roEiIizatlon of its own freedom by Spirit, 64. (2) The means by which this consciousness is developed — human activity originally stimulated by desires and passions, but in which higher principles are implicit, resulting in the State, 66. In the State these universal principles are harmonized with subjective and particular aims, and the passions of individuals result in the restraints of law and political order, 66-76. — Great Men the founders of political organizations in which this Harmony is realized, T6. Standard by which Great Men are to be judged, 76-78. Heroes and Valets, 79. The cun- ning of Reason, 80. "Xilaims of religion and morality absolute, 81. Ideals, ^ under what conditions realized, 82-83. The true Ideal, that of Reason, always tending to realize itself, 84-86. (3) The object to be attained by the processes of History — ^the union of the Subjective with the Objective Will in ~the State, 86. Idea of the State — ^its abstract basis referred to the Philoso- phy of Jurisprudence or Bight, 87-88. Erroneous views confuted. — ^Man is not free in a merely natural condition, 89. The Patriarchal principle not the only legitimate basis of government, 90. Only a transitional one, 91. The consent of all the members of the community not necessary to a legitimate (3) 4 CONTENTS goTemment, 92. Question of the best Gonstitutioii, 93. Constitution of a, country not the result of deliberate choice, but of the genius of a people, 94-95. Successive phases of government — ^Primitive Monarchy, Aristocracy, Democracy, and Constitutional Royalty, 96-96. Political idiosyncrasies, 97. Connection of Beligion, Art, and Philosophy with the State, 98-103. Th* course of the World's History, 104. Natural and Spiritual Development con- trasted, 105-106. History exhibits the gradations in the consciousness of Freedom, 101-108. Fiction of a Golden Age. Frederick von Schlegel'a theory. Researches in Oriental literature stimulated by this fallacious vigw, 109-110. Conditions essential to History — Intimate relation between legal and political organizations and the rise of Historical literature, 110-112. Contrast between India and China in this respect, 113. Ante- Historical period — the growth of Peoples and of Languages, 114. Dialectical nature of the Idea, 115. Empirical objections, 116. Beason and Understanding, 117. Distinctions in National Genius, in Poetry, Philosophy, etc., ignored, 118-124. Primd facie aspect of History — Mutability of Human Things — Metempsychosis — The Phoenix, 125-126. Activity characteristic of Spirit — Nations are what their deeds are, iUustrated in the case of England — Culmina- tion, Decline and Fall of Nations, 127-129. Chronos and Zeus, 130. Spirit expands beyond the limits of each successive nationality and annuls it, 131. Summary, 132-133. Geographical Basis of History Influence of Natwe on Historical Development — Should not be rated too high nor too low, 134. The Temperate Zone the true theatre of History, 135. Division of the World into Old and New — Physical immaturity of Australia — South Americans physically and psychically inferior, 135-137. Modern Emigration and its Medieval analogies, 137-138. South and North America — Catholicism and Protestantism, 138-139. Puritan colonization and indus- trial tendencies in their bearing on the character of the United States — Multiplication of Religious Sects — Necessity of consolidated political organi- zation not felt in North America, 140-141. Relation of the United States to neighboring countries different from that of European nations — America, aa the echo of the Past or the Land of the Future, has little interest for the Philosophy of History, 142. The Old World; its ancient limitations. The Mediterranean Sea, the centre of 'World-History, 143-144. Special Geographical distinctions : (1) The Uplands — Mongolia, the Deserts of Arabia, etc. , 145. (2) The Valley Plains — China, India, Babylonia, Egypt. In such re- gions great Kingdoms have originated, 146. (3) The Coast Land — Influence of the Sea, 146-147. Classification of the three portions of the Old World according to the predominant physical features. — Africa. (1) Africa Proper, (2) European Africa — the coast land on the North, (3) the Valley Land of the Nile, connected with Asia, 148-149. African type of character, 150. Sorcery and Fetish-worship, 151. Worship of the Dead — Contempt for CONTENTS 5 Humanity — Tyraniiy and Oannibalism, 152-163. Slavery, 163. Pob'tical condition of Africans, 164. Frenzy in war, 166-166. The merely Natural condition which African character exhibits is one of absolute injnstioe — Africa dismisBed from farther consideration as lying only on the threshold of History, 161. Asia. Siberia eliminated as out of the pale of History. (1) Central Upland of Asia. (2) Vast Valley Plains of China, India, the lands of the Tigris and Ehiphrates, etc. (3) The intermixture of these phys- ical features in Hither or Anterior Asia — Syria, Asia Minor, etc., 168-169. Europe. Physical features less marked than Hiose of Africa and Asia. (1) Southern Europe — Greece, Italy, Southeastern France, etc. (2) The heart of Europe — France, Gtermany, and England. (3) The Northeastern States — Poland, Bussia, the Slavonic Kingdoms, 160-161. Classification of Historic Data The course of History symbolized by that of Light, 163. Begins with the East — Gradual development of the consciousness of Freedom, 164. Oriental Empires, 165. Invasion of Tartar hordes — Prosaic Empire of China, India, etc. — Persian Empire of Light — Transition to Greece, 166. Greece, the Kingdom of BeauUfiU Freedom — the Toufh, as Rome is the Manhood of History, 167-168. Claims of Personality formally recognized — Crushing influence of Bome on individual and national genius, 169. Christianily and the German World — Mohammedanism, 110. The Church — Its Corruption — The Ideal of Beason realized in Secular life — The emancipation of Spirit, 170. PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD Principal of the Oriental World, the Substantial, the Prescriptive in Morality — Government only the prerogative of compulsion, 171-172. With China and the Mongols — the realm of theocratic despotism — ^History be^na. — India, 173. Persia — the symbol of whose empire is Light, 174. Sjrria and Judea. Egypt — the transition to Greece, 175-176. SECTION L CHINA Substantiality of the principle on which the Chinese Empire is based, 176. Antiquity of Ciunese traditions and records — Canonical books, 177-178. Population — Complete political organization, 178-179. Fohi, the reputed founder of Chinese civilization — Successive dynasties and capital cities, 179- 180. Shi-hoang-ti — His Great Wall, and Book-burning. Tartars; Mantchoo dynasty, 180-181. Spirit of the political and social life of China — ^The prin- ciple of the Family that of the Chinese State, 182. Belative duties strictly enforced by law, 183. Merits of Sons "imputed" to their Fathers — "Hall of Ancestors," 183-184. The Emperor is the Patriarch — the supreme authority in matters of religion and science as well as government — His will, however, controlled by .ancient maxims — Education of Princes, 186. 6 CONTENTS Administration of the Empire, 186. Learned and Military Mandarins — Examinations for official posts — The Bomance, Ja-kiao-li, 187. The Censors — ^Instances of their upright discharge of duty, 188. The Emperor the active soul of the Empire, 189. Jurisprudence — Subjects regarded as in a state of nonage — Chastisements chiefly corporal — corrective, not retributme, 190- 191. Severe punishment of the contravention of relative duties — No distinc- tion between malice prepense and accidental injury: a, cause of dispute between the English and Chinese, 191-192. Revenge an occasion of suicide — Serfdom, 192-193. Great immorality of the Chinese — The Eeligion of Fo, which regards God as Pv/re Nothing, 194. Beliglous side of Chinese polity — Relation of the Emperor to Religion — Controversy in the Catholic Church respecting the Chinese name of God, 194-195. Genii — Bonzes, 196. Chinese Science, 197. 'Written distinguished from Spoken Language — Leibnitz's opinion on the advantage of the separation, 198. Obstacles pre- sented by this system to the advance o£ Knowledge. — Chinese History, Jurisprudence, Ethics and Philosophy, 199-200. Mathematics, Physios, and Astronomy — Acquaintance wHh the Art of Printing, 201. Chinese painting, working of metals, etc. — Summary of Chinese character, 202. SECTION II. INDIA India, the region of fantasy and sensibility, contrasted with China, 203. In- dia presents us with Spirit in a state of Dream — Analogy to certain phases of female beauty, 204. Indian Pantheism, that of Imagination not of Thought — Deification of finite existence, 205. Extensive relations of India to the History of the -World — Sanscrit; 206. India the Land of Desire to Conquerors : Alexander — Conquests of the English — Topographical divisions, 207-208. Political life— Castes, etc., 209-213. Brahm; the Brahmins; the Yogis, 214. Religious suicide, 215. Brahmins are, by birth, present deities, 216. Observances binding on Brahmins, 217. Brahminical dignity and prerogatives, 218-219. DifSculties experienced by the English in enlist- ing native troops, 220. Rights of property in land not clearly ascertainable, 220. Evasion of land tax imposed by the English, 221. Hindoo Mythology, 221. Brahm, the pure Unity of Thought, or God in incomplexity of exist- ence, 222. Analogies to religion of Fo, 223. Avatars or Incarnations — Yishnu, Siva, and Mah&deva, 223. Sensual side of Hindoo worship, 224. Immorality of Hindoo character accounted for, 225. Art and Science — Exaggerated estimate of intellectual culture and scientific atliainments, 226. Vedas, epic poems, Eamayana and Mahabharata — Puranas and Code of Manu, 227. The Hindoo State, 228. History, properly speaking, non-existent among Hindoos, 229. Confusion of imagination with fact, 230. Absurd chronology and cosmogonies, 231. Oolebrooke's researches, 232. Deception practiced by Brahmins on Captain Wilford — Ticramdditya and Calidasa, 233. State in which Europeans found India, 233. Not a degeneracy from a superior politi- cal condition, 234. Summary of Hindoo oharacter, 235. CONTENTS 7 SECTION n.— (Co»«m««d). INDIA— BUDDHISM Nstinotion of Buddhism from Hindoo conceptions, 236. Buddhism supplements the S{nritnal deficiencies of the Chinese principle. Analysis of Buddhism, 23TI Connection of its leading conception with the doctrine of Metempsy- chosis, 238. Incarnations of abstract Deity in departed teachers, Buddha, Gautama, and Foe,' and in the Grand Lama, 239. The three Lamas, 239. The individual as such is not the object of worship but the principle of which he is the incarnation, 240. Education and personal character of the Lamas, The Shamans, 241. Government administered by a Ylzier, 241. SECTION III. PERSIA Nations of Hither Asia belong to the Caucasian race. Greater similarity to Europeans. The Persians the first World -historical people. Zoroaster and the principle of "Light," 242. Explanation of that principle, 243-244. Topo- graphical divisions, 245. Chapter I. The Zeks People. — The Zend Books — the canonical books of the ancient Farsees. Anquetil du Perron's researches, 246. Bactriana probably the original seat of the Zend people, 247. The doctrine of Zoroaster, 247. Light and Darkness — Ormuzd and Ahriman. Zeruane-Akerene, 248-249. Moral requirements, 260. Ritual Observances, 261. Cyrus and the river Gyndes, 252 Ohaptee II. The Assybianb, Babylonians, Mbdes, and Pebsians. — Ele- ment of wealth, luxury and commerce in these nations — The "Shahnameh." Contest of Iran and Turan, 252. Perversion of historical facts, 253. Baby- lon, 264^266. THe Medes — Magi, closely connected with the Zend religion — The Assyrian- Babylonian Empire, 256. The Persians — Cyrus, 257. Lydia and the Greek colonies, 258. Chaptbb III. The Peesian Empire and its constituent parts. — The Per- sian Empire comprehends the three geographical elements noticed p. 144 — the Uplands of Persia and Media, the Vailey-Plains of the Euphrates, Tigris, and Nile, and the CoasiSegion, Syria and Phoenicia, 259. Persians, 260. Nomadic character of their military expeditions, 261. Nobility, court, and political constitution of Persia, 262. Syria and Semitic Western Asia — Syrian and Phoenician culture, commerce, and inventions, 263. Idolatry of Syria, Phrygla, etc., 264. Worship of the Universal Power of Nature, Astarte, Cybele, or Diana. Bond of religion lax, 265. Phoenicians — Her- cules worshipped at Tyre, 266. Real import of the myths attached to Heij- cules. Adonis. Pain an element of worship, 266. Judaea, 267. Jewish idea of God, 268. Spirit in opposition to Nature, 269. Advantages and deficiencies attaching to the Jewish standpoint, 270. Egypt, 271. Union of the elements of the Persian Empire — The Sphinx, 272. Egypt the Land of Marvels — ^Herodotus, Manetho, 273. Toung and ChampoUion's investiga- tions into the Hieroglyphic language, 273-274. History, 274-277. Genius 8 CONTENTS at the Egyptians: Division into Castes — less rigid thali among the Hindoos, 218-219. Customs, Laws, Bcientiflc and practical sfciil of Egypt, 219-280. IndifEerence to polities on the part ol the inferior castes, 280. Bdigion — Series of natural phenomena determined by the Sun and the Nile — Osiris, the Sun, the Nile; Isis, the Earth — Parallelism with human life. Mutual symbolism — Egyptian Hermes, Anubis, (Thoth), the spiritual side of Egyp- tian theism, 281-286.. WorMp chiefly Zoolatry, 286. The "WoBBhip of brutes may involve a more intelligent creed than that of the "Host of Heaven," 287. Apis, 288. Transition from Egyptian "to Grreek statuary art, the former giving definite expression by the heads and masks of brutes, Anubis, e.g., with dog's head, etc. The Problem which the Egyptian Spirit proposes to itself, 289. Hieroglyphs, 290. Catacombs — The Pyramids, 291. The Eealm of the Dead. The Egyptians the first to conceive of the soul as immortal — Metempsychosis, 292. The dead body an object of care incon- sequence of belief in immortality — Mummies, 293. Judgment on the Dead — Death with the Egyptians a stimulus to enjoy Life, 294. The Human and Divine united in some symbolic representations — Summary of the startling contrasts exhibited in Egyptian character, 295. Herodotus's Egyptian tales, similar to the Thousand and One Nights, which ma,j be partly traced to Egypt — Ton Eammer's opinion, 296. Transition to the Greek World The Egyptians as compared with the Glreeks, present hoyhood contrasted with youth, 296. The inscriptions at Sais and Delphi compared — (Edipus «md the Sphinx, 291. Bistorical transition from Egypt to Steeee mediated by the fall of the Persian EmpiTO — Decline and fall of the great Empires — Prejudice in favor of duration as compared with transiency. Summary of character- istics of the Persian Empire and its dependencies, 298-299. PART II. TBE GREEK WORLD Among the Greeks we feel ourselves at home — True Palingenesis of Spirit, 300. Homer, Achilles, Alexander — Three periods In Greek History — Growth, Contests with the Persians, and Decline, 301. SECTION I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GREEK SPIRIT The Greek Spirit characterized — Geographical peculiarities of Hellas, 302. 'The Greeks a mixed race, 303. Tarious stocks from which the population of Greece was derived, 304. Influence of the Sea — Piracy— Minos. Rudiments of Greek civilization connected with the advent of foreignera. States founded by foreigners, 306. Oecrops, Danaus, Cadmus — Cyclopean for- treases, 306. Royalty in the earliest period of Greece; and relation of Kings to subjects, 301. The Trojan War, 308. Extinction of the royal houses, 309. Position of the Actors and the Chorus in Tragedy analogous to that CONTENTS 9 of Kings and peoples in early Greek history. Rise of the Greek cities, 310. Colonization, 311. Influence of the topographical features of Greece on the culture of its inhabitants — Specific character of Greek worship of Nature, 312. Greek view of Nature — Pan, 313. Origin of the Muses — Mo^Teia, 314. Oracles, the Delphic priestesses; and the Cave of Trophonius, 315. Question of the foreign or indigenous origin of Greek mythological conceptions, 316. The Mysteries — Summary of the Elements of the Greek Spirit, 317. The Greek character is Individuality conditioned by Beauty, 318. Philosophical import of Art, 319. SECTION 11. PHASES OF INDIVIDUALITY ^STHETICALLT CONDITIONED Chapter I. The Subjective Work op Art. — Adaptation of Nature to pur- poses of utility and ornament, 320. Development of the human body itself as the organ of the Soul, and as a medium for the expression of beauty, 321. Olympic and other public games. Philosophical Import of sports of this kind, 322. Chapter II. The Objective Work op Art. — The Greek Gods are Individ- ualities, objectively beautiful, 323. The overthrow of the Titans — its phil- osophical import. Relation of the new dynasty of gods to the powers of Nature, 324. Advance from the Sensuous to the Spiritual, 325. Greek divinities not abstractions. The adventitious element in the Greek my- thology — Local divinities, 326. Rational estimate of the "Mysteries," 327. Anthropomorphism of Greek mythology no disparagement, but the contrary — The Christian conception of God still more anthropomorphic, and therefore more adequate, 328. Distinction between Greek and Christian incarnations of deity, 329. Fate and Oracles, 330. Chapter III. The Politioal Work op Art. — Democracy adapted to the grade of development occupied by the Greeks, 331. The Seven Sages, prac- tical politicians. Solon — ^Athenian Democracy. Montesquieu's remark oa Democracy. Law with the Greeks is Customary MoraUty, 332. Immanent Objective Morality essential to the healthy working of a Democratic consti- tution, 333. Patriotic sentiment of the Greeks — Not an enthusiasm for an abstract principle. Sophists introduced subjective reflection, which led to the decline of national life, 334. Great men as legislators and statesmen enjoyed the confidence of the people during the prosperous times of Greece- Greek Democracy connected with Oracles, 335. Slavery another character- istic of the Greek polity — Democratical constitutions attached to small states, often to single cities of no great extent, 336. The French Democracy consti- tuted no vital and concrete unity, but a mere Paper World, 337. — l%e Wa/rs with the Persians. Summary view of the struggle, 338. Victories of the Greeks and the undying interest attached to them, 338-339. Athens and Sparta, 340. — Athens. Mixed population, 340. Solonian Constitution — Pisistratus — Advance of the Democratic principle — Pericles, 341. Free 10 CONTENTS play for the development of individual character at Athens, resullang in a noble intellectual and artistic development. !Funer&l oration of Pericles, 342-343. — Sparta. Early stages of its development very different from those of Athenian history. Dorian invasion — Subjugation of the Helots, 344. The Lycurgian Constitution, 345-346. Defects of Spmtan culture, 347. Stand- point of the Greek Spirit, 348. — The Pelopormesian War. Isolation of the Greek states, 348. The Athenian Hegemony-^ Struggle between Athens and Sparta. Spartan oppression, 349. Temporary preponderance of Thebes — Subjectivity characteristic of Theban character, 350. Cause of the decay of the Greek World, 3S1. The Sophists, 362. Socrates the Inventor of HoralUy, 353. Established an Ideal world alien to the Real one. Condemnation of Socrates, its interest in connection with the decay of the Greek World, 354. Aristophanes — Decline of Athens, and that of Sparta contrasted, 368. — The. Macedoniam, Empire. The Insult to the Delphian Apollo destroys the last support of unity in Greece — Establishment of a real authoritative royalty by Philip. Alexander's inherited advantages — His education, 365-366. Inva- sion of the East, 357. Early death — Extent and importance of his empire, 358. Alexandria a centre of Science and Art — the point of union for Eastern and Western culture, 359. SECTION III. PALL OF THE GREEK SPIRIT Intellectual vitality still preserved to some extent in Athens — Relations of Greek States to foreign powers, 359-360. Achaean league — Attempts of Agis and Cleomenes, Aratus and Phiiopoemen to resuscitate Greece, 361. Contact with the Romans. 362. FAST III. THE ROMAN WORLD Napoleon's observation, "La politique est la fatalite," 362. The Roman World the crushing Destiny that aimed to destroy all concrete life in states and indi- riduals, compelling the soul to take refuge in such a supersensuous world as Christianity offers. Abstract personality — the-4Bgal right of the individual, established by Rome, 863. General aspect of the poUtical world of Rome. Treatment of its annals by Historians, Philologists,- and Jurists, 364. Locality of Rome — Question of an Italian capital discussed by Napoleon ia his "Memoirs." Italy presents no natural unity, 365. Division of Roman History, 366-367. SECTION L ROME TO THE TIME OP THE SECOND PUNIC WAR Chapter I. The Elements op the Roman Sprerr. — Pirst establiafameut of Rome, 367. Romulus — Artificial foundation of the State, 368-369. Patridang and Plebeians — Debts and laws respecting them, 370. Roman harshness in respect to the family relation. Marriage and the condition of wives, 371-372. Strict subordination of Roman dtizens to the state and its usages, 373. Tha CONTENTS 11 prose of life oharacteriBtio of the Roman World — Prosaic character of Etruscan art. To the Romans we owe the development of positive Law, 374. Spirit of the mythological conceptions of the Romans to be carefuUy distinguished from that of the Greeks, 315. Mystery characterizing the Roman rehgion — Number and minuteness of ceremonial observances — The Sacra, 316. Self- seeking character of Roman religion, 311. Prosaic utilitarian divinities con- trasted with the free and beautiful conceptions of the Greeks, 318. The Saturnalia — Adoption of Greek divinities, 319. Frigid use of them in Roman poetry. Public games of the Romans — The people generally were spectators only — Cruelty of public spectacles, 380. Superstition and self-seeking the chief characteristics of Roman religion. Rehgion made to serve the purposes of the Patricians — Ko genial vitality uniting the whole state as in the Greek Polis — Each "gens" sternly retains its pecuharities, 381-382. Chapter II. History op Rome to the Second Punic War. — Krst period of Roman History — The Kings, 382-385. Expulsion of the Kings by the patridans — Consuls — Struggles between the patricians and the plebs, 385- 339, The Agrarian Laws, 390-391. Excitement of civil contest diverted into the channel of foreign wars — Roman compared with Greek armies, 392. Gradual extension of Roman dominion, 393. SECTION II. ROME PROM THE SECOND PUNIC WAR TO THE EMPERORS Power of Carthage — Hannibal. Conquest of Macedonia — Antiochus, 394. Fall of Carthage and of Corinth — The Scipios, 395. When the excitement of war is over, the Romans have no resources of Art or Intellect to fall back upon, 396. Treatment of conquered provinces. Increase of luxury and debauchery in Rome. The legacy of Attalus — The Gracchi, 391. Jugurtha — Mithridates — Sulla — Marius and Cinna, 398. The Servile War. Great individuals now appear on the stage of political life in Rome, as during the period of the decline of Greece, 399. Pompey and Caesar — Triumph of the latter. Im- possibility of preserving the repubUcan constitution — Short-sighted views of Cicero and Cato, 400. Character and achievements of Caesar, 401. Hallu- cination which led to his assassination. Rise of Augustus. A revolution is sanctioned in men's opinions when it repeats itself — Napoleon and the Bourbons, 402. SECTION III Chapter I. Rohe under the Emperors. — Position of the Ruler and the Subjects — The former an absolute despot supported by the army, the latter united by purely legal relations, all concrete and genial interests being an- nulled, 403-404. Personal character of the Emperors a matter of small importance to the empire, 405. The recognition of Private Right the result of this absolute despotism — Dissolution of the political body into its com- ponent atoms, 406. Public and political interests have lost all charm, and 12 CONTENTS men fall back upon mere aensuous enjoyment or philosophic indiflference— Prevalence of Stoicism, Epicureanism and Scepticism, 407. y Chapter II. Ohkistianiti. — Julius Caeaar inaugurated the "real" side of the Modem World: its spiritual and inward existence was unfolded under Augustus, 407. Crushing despotism of the Empire opens the way for Chris- tianity, 408. The Greek, Eoman and Christian grades of self-consciousness, 409. Despotism of Borne, the discipline of the World — Import of Disci- pline, 410. Moral introspection the characteristic of the Jewish World — The Psalms and Prophets — Connection of Knowledge with Sin in the Biblical Narrative of the Pall, 411. Annulling of their nationality and loss of all temporal good reduces the Jewish Spirit to seek satisfaction in God alone — God recognized as pure Spirit in Christianity. The Trinity, 412-414. Incar- nation of God in Christ its full import — distinguished from Lamaistic and similar conceptions, 415, Miracles, 416. The formation of the Church — Christ's own teaching, 417. Polemical aspect of that teaching to secular interests and relations, 418. Nowhere are such revolutionary utterances to be found as in the Gospels. Origination of the Church — Development of doctrine by the Apostles, 419. Relation of early Christianity to the Empire, 420. Connection of Christian doctrine with the Philosophy of the time — Union of the abstract idea of God that originated in the West with the con- crete and imaginative conceptions characteristic of the East — Alexandria — Philo — the Aoyo!, 420-421. Attempt of the Alexandrians to rationalize Paganism; and of Philo and Christian writers to spiritualize the narrative parts of the Old Testament, 422. The Nicene settlement of doctrine — ^Inter- nal and external aspect of the Church — Rise of an ecclesiastical organization, 423-424. The Ecclesiastical distinguished from the Spiritual Kingdom. Recognition of Human dignity: the result of Christianity, 426. Slavery incompatible with it — Mere customary morality abrogated — Oracles cease to be respected, 426-427. Imbumg of secular life with the Christian principle, a work of time — Religion and "the World" not necessarily op- posed to eacli other — ^Rational Freedom the harmonization of the Religious and the Secular — This harmonization the destiny of the Oermwn peoples, 427-428. Chapter III. The Byzantine Empire. — Progress of Christianity, 428. Di- vision of the Empire, 429. Pall of the Roman power in the West — Contrast between the East and the West, 430. Powerleasness of the abstract profession of Christianity in the Byzantine Empire to restrain crime, 431. Tiolent and sanguinary religious feuds in Constantinople — Gregory Nazianzen cited, 432. Image-Worship — Aspect of Byzantine History down to the conc^uest of Con- stantinople by the Turks, 433. CONTENTS 13 PART IV. TBE OERMAN WORLD The Gennan Spirit that of the Modern 'World— The German peoples destined to be the bearers of the Christian principle — German development contrasted with that of Greece and Rome, 434. The Christian 'World that of comple- tion — Bearing of this fact on the division of the Modern World into histori- cal periods, 435. The Religion of the Ancient Germans struck no deep root among them: Tacitus' description of them as "Securi adverstis Deos." Germans came in contact with a fully developed Bcclesiastlc^ and Secular culture — The Grerman world apparently a continuation of the Roman — Bat a new spirit characterizes them — Bvolution of the antithesis between Church and State, 436. Division of the German 'World into three periods — (1) Prom the appearance of the Germans in the Roman Smpire to Ch^emagne — (2) Period of Contest between Church and State — (3) That jn which Secularlty obtains a consciousness of its intrinsic moral value, and Rational Freedom is achieved, i.e. from the Reformation to our own times, 437-438. The German world presents a repetition (by analogy) of earlier epochs — Comptffison with , the Persian, Greek and Roman World, 439-440. SECTION I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE CHRISTIAN GERMAN WORLD CiuPTEB I, The Babearian Mio-baiions. — Individual freedom a character- istic of the ancient Germans — Causes of the invasion of the Roman Empire. Du^icate condition of the great Teutonic families — Various tribes of Germans, 441-442. Romanic and Germanic nations of Europe — the former comprising Italy, Spain, Portugal and France, the latter Germany itself, Scandinavia and England, 443. The Sclaves — their immigration and relation to the rest of Europe — Have not yet appeared as an independent phase of Reason, what- ever they may become in the Future — the German Nation characterized by "Heart" [Gemiith] — "Heart" distinguished from Character, 444. Aspect which their idiosyncrasy jo'esents to Christiaiuty, 446-446. Religion of the ancient Germans — Deficiency in depth of moral sentiment, 447. Free confed- erations united by fealty — Political relations not founded on general prineiples, but spUt up into private rights and obligations, 448. Violence ot passions not restrained by religion in the early periods of the German World — Transition from secular excesses to religious enthusiasm and seclusion, 449-460. Ohaptbe II. MOHAMMBDAiriSM. — Absorption in one Idea characteristic of Mohammedanism — the polar and supplemental opposite of the splitting up into particularity that ffisWnguishes the German World. Comparison of Moham- medanism with other forms of Faith, 461-452. Origin and progress of the Mnesolman faith and arms. Fanaticism of the Mohammedans, 453. La reMgion et la ierreur the Moslem prmciple, as with Robespierre La liberie et la terrewr — Instability of their political organizations, 454. Rapid rise of Arts and Sciences among them, 455. Mussulman revolutions — ^European struggle with the Saracens— Goethe's "Divan," 466. 14 CONTENTS Chaptbe III. The Empibb of Oharlbmaone. — Oonstitution" of the Frank Bmpire^Feudal System — Eiae of the "Mayors of the Palace." Pepin fe Bref, 457. Charlemagne — Extent of his Empire — Its complete organization, 458-469. Administration of Justice — Ecclesiastical affairs — Imperial Cioun- cil, 460-461. Causes of the instabihty of the political organization estab- lished by Charlemagne, 462. SECTION n. THE MIDDLE A&BS Reactions occasioned by the iiffinite falsehood which rules the destinies of the Middle Ages. (1) That of particular nationalities against the universal sover- eignty of the Prank Empire. (2) That of individuals against legal authority. (3) That of the spiritual element against the existing order of things. The Crusades the culminating epoch of the Middle Ages, 462-463. Chapter I. The Pbudalitt and the Hierarchy. — Mrst reaction, 463. Separation of the French from the Germans — Italian and Burgundian King- doms, etc. Invasion by the Norsemen of England, France, and Germany, 464. Magyar and Saracen inroads — Inefficiency of the military organization formed by Charlemagne, 465-466. Second reaction — Capacity of appreciating the advantages of legal order not yet attained — Protection afforded by power- ful individuals, 46?. "Feudum" and "fides," 468. The Imperial dignity an empty title — The slate broken up into petty sovereignties, 469. Hugh Capet — the nature of his power — France divided into several Duchies and Earldoms — Conquest of England by William Duke of Normandy. State of Grermany and Italy— Right vanishing before individual Might, 4'70-4'Zl. Third reaction — that of Universality against the Real World split up into particu- larity — chiefly promoted by the Church. Close of the World expected in the eleventh century, 471. Ecclesiastical affairs, 472. Gregory VII. enforces the celibacy of the clergy, and contends against Simony, 473. Increasing power of the Church — "Truce of God," 474. Spiritual Elemerit in the Church, 475. Design of the Mass — Laity and Clergy, 476. Mediation of the Saints, 477. False separation of the Spiritual from the Secular, 478. Celibacy, Religious Pauperism and the Obedience of Blind Credulity opposed to true morality, 479. The Medieval Church and State involved in contradic- tions, 480. Absurdity of modern laudations of the Middle Ages. Growth of Feudal System, side by side with that of secularized Church power, 481-482. Rise of architectural art — of maritime commerce — of the Sciences — Growing importance of the Towns, 483. Freedom reviving in the town communities — Defensive organization, 484. Formation of Guilds, 485. Struggles between the cities and the nobility, and internal factions, 486. Struggle of the Em- peror with the cities and with the Church— Guelf and GhibelUne contest Dante— The House of Hohenstaufen and the Papal power — Termination of the contest, 487-489. Chapter IL The Crusadbs.— Analysis of the impulse that led to the Cru- sades, 491-492. Conduct and results of the expedition, 493. Spiritual result CONTENTS 15 of the Grusades, 494. War^ with the Moors in Spain, Crusadea agmnst the Albigenses, 49S. Oulmination of the authority of the Church in the Cru- sades, but its power weakened through their failuie, 496. Monastic and Chivalrio Orders, their Spiritual import, 491-499. Science — Scholastic Phi- losophy — Intellectual jousting, 499-600. Cbaptee UL Tbansition fboh Feubausu to Monabobt. — ^Forms of Transition from feudal to monarchical sway, 501-503. State of Germany, 503. Leagues of Kations. Peasant fraternities, 604. Invention of Gwi- powder — its results to eivilization, 505. Italy — Beduction of feudal power by Sovereigns — MachiaveUi's "Prince," 506. Prance— Increasing power of Kings — States-general called, 606-507. England — Magna Cbarta — House of Commous, 508. Hevolts against Papal power, 509. Arnold of Brescia, WickltSe and Huss, 510. Disciplinary Influence of the Church and of Serf- dom — Results, 610-511. Art and Science / marked influence on the political movements of Germany, itirill be admitted that his theory of the universe, especially that part which bears directly upon politics, deserves atten- tion even from those who are the most exclusive advocates of the "practical." A writer how has established his claim to be regarded as an authority, by the life which he has infused into meta- physical abstractions, has pronounced the work before us, "one of the pleasantest books on the subject he ever read." ' And compared with that of most German writers, even the style may claim to be called vigorous and pointed. If therefore in its English dress the Philosophy of History should be found deficient in this respect, the fault must not be attributed to the original. It has been the aim of the translator to present his author to the public in a really English form, even at the cost of a circumlocution which must sometimes do injustice to the merits of the original. A "few words however have neces- ' Mr. G. H. Ltwes, in his Biogt. Hisl. of Philosophy, Tol. IV. Ed. 1841. (17) 18 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE sarily been used in a rather unusual sense; and one of them is of very frequent occurrence. The German "Geist," in Hegel's nomenclature, includes both Intelligence and Will, the latter even more expressly than the former. It embraces in fact man's entire mental and moral being, and a little re- flection will make it obvious that no term in our metaphiysi- cal vocabulary could < have been well substituted for the more theological one, "Spirit," as a fair equivalent. It is indeed only the impersonal and abstract use of tbe term that is open to objection; an objection which can be met by an appeal to the best classical usage; viz., the rendering of the Hebrew n^^T and Greek Ttveufia in the Authorized Version of the Scriptures. One indisputable instance may suffice in confirmation: "Their horses {i.e., of the Egyp- tians) are flesh and not spiriV^ (Isaiah xxxi. 3). It is per- tinent to remark here, that the comparative disuse of this term in English metaphysical literature is one result of that alienation of theology from philosophy with which conti- nental writers of the most opposite schools agree in tax- ing the speculative genius of Britain — an alienation which mainly accounts for the gulf separating English from Ger- man speculation, and which will, it is feared, on other ac- counts also be the occasion of communicating a somewhat uninviting aspect to the following pages. The distinction which the Germans make between "Sitt- lichkeit" and "Moralitat," has presented another difficulty. The former denotes Conventional Morality, tbe latter that of the Heart or Conscience. "Where no ambiguity was likely to arise, both terms have been translated "Morality." In other cases a stricter rendering has been given, modified by the requirements of the context. The word "Moment" is, as readers of German philosophy are aware, a veritable crux to the translator. In Mr. J. E. Morell's very valuable edi- tion of Johnson's Translation of Tennemann's "Manual of the History of Philosophy" (Bohn's Philos. Library), the following explanation is given: "This term was borrowed from Mechanics by Hegel (see his Wissenschaft der Logik, TBAN8LAT0WS PRESAGE 19 Tol. 3, page 104, ed. 1841). He employs it to denote the contending forces which are mutually dependent, and whose contradiction forms an equation. Hence his formula, Esse= Nothing. Here Esse and Nothing are momentums, giving birth to Werden, i.e. Existence. Thus the momentum con- tributes to the same oneness of operation in contradictory forces that we see in mechanics, amid contrast and diversity, in weight and distance, in the case of the balance." But in several parts of the work before us this definition is not strictly adhered to, and the Translator believes he has done justice to the original in rendering the word by "Successive" or "Organic Phase." In the chapter on the Crusades an- other term occurs which could not be simply rendered into English. The definite, positive, and present embodiment of Essential Being is there spoken of as "ein Z>ieses," "das Dieses,'' etc., literally "a This," "the This," for which repulsive combination a periphrasis has been substituted, which, it is believed, is not only accurate but expository. Paraphrastic additions, however, have been, in fairness to the reader, inclosed in brackets [ ] ; and the philosophical appropriation of ordinary terms is generally indicated by capitals, e.g. "Spirit," "Freedom," "State," "Nature," etc. The limits of a brief preface preclude an attempt to ex- plain the Hegelian method in its wider applications; and such an undertaking is rendered altogether unnecessary by the facilities which are aflEorded by works so very accessible as the translation of Tennemann above mentioned, Chaly- baeus's "Historical Development of Speculative Philosophy, from Kant to Hegel," Blakey's History of the Philosophy of Mind, Mr. Lewes's Biographical History of Philosophy, besides treatises devoted more particularly to the Hegelian philosophy. Among these latter may be fairly mentioned the work of a French Professor, M. V"era, "Introduction k la philosophie de Hegel," a lucid and earnest exposition of the system at laige; and the very able summary of Hegel's "Philosophy of Eight," by T. C. Sandars, late fellow of Oriel ColIiBge, which forms one of the series of "Oxford 20 TRANSLATOB'S PREFACE Essays" for 1855, and which bears directly on the subjeet of the present volume. It may, neverthelessT be of some service to the reader to indicate the point of view from which this Philosophy of History is composed, and to explain the leading idea. The substanee of this explanation has already been given in the foot-nDtes accompanying the translation; but, consider- ing the unfamiliar character of the line of thought, a repeti- tion will not, it is hoped, be deemed obtrusive. The aim and scope of that civilizing process which all hopeful thinkers recognize in History, is the attainment oif Eational Freedom. But the very term Freedom sup- poses a previous bondage; and the question naturally arises: "Bondage to what?" — A superficial inquirer may be satis- fied with an answer referring it to the physical power of the ruling body. Such a response was deemed satisfactory by a large number of political speculators in the last century, and even at the beginning of the present ; and it is one of the great merits of an influential thinker of our days to have expelled this idolum fori, which had also become an idolum theatri, from its undue position; and to have revived the simple truth that all stable organizations of men, all relig- ious and political communities, are based upon principles which are far beyond the control of the One or the Many. And in these primBiples or some phase of them every man in every clime and age is born, lives and moves. The only question is: Whence are those principles derived? Whence spring those primary beliefs or superstitioe.'S, religious and political, that hold society together ? They are no inven- tions of "priestcraft" or "kingcraft," for to them priestcraft and iingBraft owe their power. They are no results of a Gontrat Social^ for with them society originates. Nor are they the mere suggestions of man's weakness, prompting him to propitiate the powers of Nature, in furtherance of his JSnite, earthboTffl desires. Some of the phenomena <^ tine reUgiooB systems that have prevailed in the world might seem thus explicable; but the Nihiliflin of more than one TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 21 Oriental creed, the suicidal strivings of the Hindoo devotee to become absorbed in a Divinity recognized as a pure nega- tion, cannot be reduced to so gross a formula; while the political superstition that ascribes a Divine Right to the feebleness of a woman or an infant is altogether untouched by it. Nothing is left therefore but to recognize them as "fancies," "delusions," "dreams," the results of man's vain imagination — to class them with the other absurdities with which the abortive past of Humanity is by some thought to be only too replete ; or, on the other hand, to regard them as the rudimentary teachings of that Essential Intelligence in which man's intellectual and moral life originates. With Hegel they are the objective manifestation of infinite Sea- son — the first promptings of Him who having "made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on the face of the earth, hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation, if haply they might feel after and find him" — ^ou yap xai fsvo^ sa/xev. And it is these xatpot TcpoTeTaY/xevot, these determined and organic epochs in the history of the world that Hegel proposes to distinguish and develop in the following treatise. Whatever view may be entertained as to the origin or importance of those elementary principles, and by whatever general name they may be called — Spontaneous, Primary, or Objective Intelligence — it seems demonstrable that it is in some sense or other to its own belief, its ovm Reason or essen- tial being, that imperfect humanity is in bondage; while the perfection of social existence is commonly regarded as a de- liverance from that bondage. In the Hegelian system, this paradoxical condition is regarded as one phase of that antith- esis which is presented in all spheres of existence, between the Subjective and the Objective, but which it is the result of the natural and intellectual processes that constitute the life of the universe to annul by merging into one absolute existence. And however startling this theory may be as applied to other departments of nature and intelligence, it appears to be no unreasonable formula for the course of 22 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE civilization, and which is substantially as follows: In less cultivated nations, political and moral restrictions are looked upon as objectively posited ; the constitution of society, like ihe world of natural objects, is regarded as something into which a man is inevitably born; and the individual feels himself bound to comply with requirements of whose justice or propriety he is not allowed to judge, though they often severely test his endurance, and even demand the sacrifice of his life. In a state of high civilization, on the contrary, though an equal self -sacrifice be called for, it is in respect of laws and institutions which are felt to be just and desira- ble. This change of relation may, without any very extraor- dinary use of terms, or extravagance of speculative conceit, be designated the harmonization or reconciliation of Objec- tive and Subjective intelligence. The successive phases which humanity has assumed in passing from that primi- tive state of bondage to this condition of Eational Freedom form the chief subject of the following lectures. The mental and moral condition of individuals and their social and religious conditions (the subjective and objective manifestations of Reason) exhibit a strict correspondence with each other in every grade of progress. "They that make them are like unto them," is as true of religious and political ideas as of religious and political idols. Where man sets no value on that part of his mental and moral life which makes him superior to the brutes, brute life will be an object of worship and bestial sensuality will be the genius of the ritual. Where mere inaction is the Jinis bonorum, absorption in Nothingness will be the aim of the devotee. Where, on the contrary, active and vigorous virtue is recognized as constituting the real value of man — where subjective sfHrit has learned to assert its own Free- dom, both against irrational and unjust requirements from without, and caprice, passion, and sensuality from within, it will demand a living, acting, just, and holy embodiment of Deity as the only possible object of its adoration. In the same degree, political principles also will be afEected. ' TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE 23 Where mere Nature predominates, no legal relations will be acknowledged but those based on natural distinction; rights will be inexorably associated with "caste." Where, on the other hand. Spirit has attained its Freedom, it will require a code of laws and a political constitution, in which the rational subordination of nature to reason that prevails in its own being, and the strength it feels to resist sensual seductions shall be distinctly mirrored. ..,^' ""^ *= Between the lowest and highest grades^ of intelligence ' and will, there are several intervening stages, around which a complex of derivative ideas, and of institutions, arts, and sciences, in harmony with them, are aggregated. ^ Each of these aggregates has acquired a name in history as a distinct nationality. Where the distinctive principle is losing its vigor, as the result of the expansive force of mind of which it was only the temporary embodiment, the national life declines, and we have the transition to a higher grade, in which a comparatively abstract and limited phase of subjec- tive intelligence and will — to which corresponds an equally imperfect phase of objective Eeason — is exchanged for one more concrete, and vigorous — one which develops human capabilities more freely and fully, and in which Eight is more adequately comprehended. The goal of this contention is, as already indicated, the self-realization, the complete development of Spirit, whose proper nature is Freedom — Freedom in both senses of the term; i.e., liberation from outward control — inasmuch as the law to which it submits has its own explicit sanction — and emancipation from the inward slavery of lust and*^ passion. The above remarks are not designed to afford anything like a complete or systematic analysis of Hegel's Philosophy of History, but simply to indicate its leading conception, and if possible to contribute something toward removing a prejudice against it on the score of its resolving facts into mystical paradoxes, or attempting to construe them a priori. In applying the theory, some facta may not improbably 24 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE have been distorted, some brought into undue prominence, and others altogether neglected. In the most cautious and limited analysis of the Past, failures and perversions of this kind are inevitable : and a comprehensive view of History is proportionately open to mistake. But it is another question whether the principles applied in this work to explain the course which civilization has followed are a correct infer- ence from historical facts, and afford a reliable clew to the explanation of their leading aspects. The translator would remark, in conclusion, that the "Introduction" will probably be found the most tedious and difficult part of the treatise ; he would therefore suggest a cursory reading of it in the first instance, and a second perusal as a r^sum^ of principles which are more completely illustrated in the body of the work. J. So ITpfee Orange, Stbottd, Nov. 26, 1857. PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION The first question that suggests itself on the publication of a new Philosophy of History is why, of all the depart- ments of so-called Practical Philosophy, this should have been the latest cultivated and the least adequately discussed. For it was not until the beginning of the eighteenth century that Vicp made the first attempt to substitute for that view of History which regarded it either as a succession of fortui- tous occurrences, or as the supposed but not clearly recog- nized work of God, a conception of it as an embodiment of primordia l laws, and a p roduc t of B eason — a theory which so far from contravening the moral freedom of humanity, posits the only conditions in which that freedom can be developed. This fact can, however, be explained in a few brief obser- vations. The laws of Being and Thought, the economy of Nature, the phenomena of the human soul, even legal andj ',„j/«'i political organisms, nor less the forms of Art and the acknowledged manifestations of God in other modes have always passed for stable and immutable existences, if not as far as subjective views of them are concerned, yet certainly in their objective capacity. It is otherwise with the move- ments of History. The extrinsic contingency which pre- dominates in the rise and t$l\ of empires and of individuals, the triumphs of vice over virtue, the confession sometimes extorted, that there have been instances in which crimes have been productive of the greatest advantage to mankind, and that mutability which must be regarded as the insepa- rable companion of human fortunes, tend to keep up the^ belief that History stands on such a basis of shifting caprice, on such an uncertain fire-vomiting volcano, that every en- .-SOIENOE — 2 26 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION deavor to discover rules, ideas, the Divine and Eternal here, may be justly condemned as an attempt to insinuate adven- titious subtleties, as the bubble-blowing of a priori con- struction or a vain play of imagination. While men do not hesitate to admire God in the objects of Nature, it is deemed almost blasphemy to recognize him in human exertions and human achievements ; it is supposed to be an exaltation of the disconnected results of caprice — results which a mere change of humor might have altered — above their proper value, to suppose a principle underlying them for which the passions of their authors left no room in their own minds. In short, men revolt from declaring the products of Free- Will and of the human spirit to be eternal, because they involve only one element of stability and consistency — the advance amid constant mutability to a richer and more fully developed character. An important advance in Thought was required, a filling up of the "wide gulf" that separates Necessity from Liberty, before a guiding hand could bd demonstrated as well as recognized in this most intractable because most unstable element — before a Government of the World in the History of the World could be, not merely asserted but indicated, and Spirit be regarded as no more abandoned by God than Nature. Before this could be done, a series of millenniums must roll away: the work of the human spirit must reach a high degree of perfection, before that point of view can be attained, from which a compre- hensive survey of its career is possible. Only now, when Christendom has elaborated an outward embodiment for its inward essence, in the form of civilized and free states, has the time arrived not merely for a History based on Philoso- phy, but for the Philosophy of History. One other remark must not be withheld, and which is perhaps adapted to reconcile even the opponents of Phi- losophy, at least to convince them that in the ideal compre- hension of History, the original facts are not designed to be altered or violence of any kind done them. The remark in question has reference to what is regarded as belonging to PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 27 Philosophy in these events. Not every trifling occurrence, not every phenomenon pertaining rather to the sphere of individual life than to the course of the World-Spirit, is to be "construed," as it is called, and robbed of its life and substance by a withering formula. There is nothing more alien to intelligence, and consequently nothing more ridicu- lous than the descending to that micrology which attempts to explain indifferent matters — ^which endeavors to represent that as necessitated which might have been decided in one way quite as well as in another, and of which in either case he who presumes to construe the occurrence in question would have found an explanation. Philosophy is degraded by this mechanical application of its noblest organs, while a reconciliation with those who occupy themselves with its empirical details is thereby rendered impossible. What is left for Philosophy to claim as its own, consists not in the demonstration of the necessity of all occurrences — in regard to which, on the contrary, it may content itself with mere narration — but rather in removing that veil of obscurity which conceals the fact that every considerable aggregate of nations, every important stadium of History has an idea as its basis, and that all the transitions and developments which the annals of the past exhibit to us can be referred to the events that preceded them. In this artistic union of the merely descriptive element on the one hand, with that which aspires to the dignity of speculation, on the other hand, will lie the real value of a Philosophy of History. Again, the treatises on the Philosophy of History that have appeared within the last hundred years or thereabout differ in the point of view from which they have been com- posed, vary with the national character of their respective authors, and lastly, are often mere indications of a Philoso- phy of History than actual elaborations of it. For we must at the outset clearly distinguish Philoaophies from Theoso- phiea, which latter resolve all events directly into God, while the_ former unfold the manifestation of Grod in the real world. Moreover, Tt is evident that the Philosophies of 28 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION History which have appeared among the Italians and the French, have but little connection with a general system of thought, as constituting one of its organic constituents; and that their views, though often correct and striking, cannot demonstrate their own inherent necessity. Lastly, much has often been introduced into the Philosophy of History that has been of a mystical, rhapsodical order, that has not risen above a mere fugitive hint, an undeveloped fundamental idea; and though in many cases the great merit of such contributions cannot be denied, their place would be only in the vestibule of our science. We have certainly no wish to deny that among the Germans, Leibnitz, Lessing, Weguelin, Iselin, Kant, Fichte, Schelling, 'Schiller, W. von Humboldt,^ Oorres, Steffens and Eosenkranz,' have given utter- ance to observations of a profound, ingenious and perma- nently valuable order, respecting both the basis of History generally and the connection that exists between events and the spirit of which they are demonstrably the embodiment. Among French writers, who would refuse to admire in Bos- suet the refined ecclesiastical and teleological genius which regards the History of the World as a vast map spread out before it; in Montes quieu the prodigious talent that makes events transform themselves instanter to thoughts in his quick apprehension ; or in Balanche and Michelet the seer's intuition that pierces the superficial crust of circumstances and discerns the hidden forces with which they originated ? But if actually elaborated Philosophies of History are in question, four writers only present themselves, Yico, Herder, Fr. V. Schlegel, and lastly the Philosopher whose work we are here introducing to the public. Vico's life and literary labors carry us back to a period in which the elder philosophies are being supplanted by the Cartesian; but the latter has not yet advanced beyond I la an academic dissertation, whose style is as masterly as its contents are profound: "On the Task of the Historian." ' In his animated and genially clever tractate: "What the Germans have accomplished for the Philosophy of History." PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 29 the contemplation of the fiind'amental idieaa — ^Being and Thought; it is not yet eq nipped for a descent into the con- crete World of History, or prepared to master it. Vico, in attempting to exhibit the principles of History in his "Scienza Nuova," is -obliged" to rely on the guidance of the ancients and to adopt the classical ^doao^i^fiara: in his investigations it is the data of ancient rather than of modern records that arrest bis attention: Feudality and its history is with him rather a supplement to the development of Greece and Rome than something specifically distinct there- from. Although at the close of his book he asserts that the Christian religion, even in its influence on human aims, excels all the religions of the world, be stops short of any- thing like an elaboration of this statement. The separation and distinction between the Middle Ages and the Modern Time cannot be exhibited, as the Eeformation and its eflEeets are excluded from consideration. Besides, he undertakes to discuss the rudiments of human intelligence, Language, Poetry, Homer; as a Jurist he has to go down into the depths of Roman Law, and to investigate them; while all this — the main stream of thought, episodes, expansion of the ideas and reverting to their principles — is further varied by a proneness to hunt out etymologies and give verbal explanations, which often serves to retard and disturb the most important processes of historical evolution. Most per- sons are thus deterred by the repulsive exterior from appre- hending the profound truths which it envelops ; the latter are not sufficiently obvious on the surface, and the gold is thrown away with the dross that conceals it. In Herder we find traits of excellence which are wanting in Vico. He is himself a poet, and be approaches History in a poetic spirit ; further, he does not detain the reader by prefatory inquiries into the foundations and vestibules of History — Poetry, Art, Language, and Law: he begins im- * mediately with points of climate and geography ; moreover, the entire field of History lies open before him : his liberal Protestant and cosmopolitan culture gives him an insight 30 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION into all nationalities and -views, and renders bim capable of transcending mere traditional notions to an unlimited ex- tent. Sometimes, too, he hits upon "the right word" with wonderful felicity; the teleological principle on which his speculations are baseJ does not hinder him from doing justice to the varieties [of the actual world], and in com- paring historical periods the analogy they bear to the stages of human life does not escape him. But these "Ideas con- tributory to the Philosophy of the History of Mankind" contradict their title by the very fact that not only are all metaphysical categories banished, but a positive hatred to metaphysics is the very element in which they move. The Philosophy of History in Herder's hands therefore, broken oflE from its proper basis, is a highly intellectual, often strik- ing, and on the other hand often defective ^Waisonnement" — a Theodicsea rather of the Heart and UMerstanding than of Reason. This alienation from its natural root leads by necessary consequence to an enthusiasm "which often ob- structs the current of thought, and to interjections of aston- ishment, instead of that contention of mind which results in demonstration. The theologian, the genial preacher, the entranced admirer of the works of God, very often intrudes with his subjective peculiarities amid the objectivity of History. In Frederick v. Schleqel]s Philosophy of History we may find, if we choose \o look, a fundamental idea, which can be called a philosophical one. It is this, namely, that Man 1^,/was created free; that two courses lay before him, Jjetween which he was competent to choose — that which led upward, and that which led downward to the abyss. Had he re- mained firm and true to the primary will that proceeded from God, his freedom would have been that of blessed spirits; that view being rejected as quite erroneous, which represents the paradisiacal condition as one of blissful idle- ness. But as man unhappily chose the second path, there was from that time forward a divine and a natural will in him; and the great problem for the life of the individual, PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 31 as also for that of the entire race, is the conversion and* transformation of the lower earthly and natural will more and more into the higher and divine will. This Philosophy j of History, therefore, really begins with the dire and strange lament, that there should be a history at all, and that man did not remain in the unhistorical condition of blessed spir- its. History, in this view, is an apostasy — the obscuration of man's pure and divine being ; and instead of a possibility of discovering God in it, it is rather the Negative of Ged which is mirrored in it. Whether the race will ultimately succeed in returning completely and entirely to God, is on this showing only a matter of expectation and hope, which, since humanity has once more darkened its prospects by Protestantism, must, at least to Frederick v. Schlegel," ap- pear doubtful. In elaborating the characteristic principles and historical deyelopment of the several nations, wherever that fundamental idea retires somewhat into the background, an intellectual platitude manifests itself, which seeks to make up by smooth and polished diction for the frequent tenuity of the thought. ,, A desire to gain repose for his own mind, to justify himself, and to maintain the Catholic standpoint against the requirements of the modern world, gives his treatise a somewhat far-fetched and premeditated tone, which deprives facts of their real character to give them that tinge which will connect them with the results they are brouglj.t forward to establish. Hegel's Lectures on the Philosophy of History, to which we now come, have at starting a great advantage over their predecessors, apart from the merits of their contents. First and foremost they are connected with a system of thought i logically elaborated even to its minutest members: theyj- claim to exhibit the Logos of History, just as there is a' Logos of Nature, of the Soul, of Law, of Art, etc. Here, then, mere flashes of ^thought, mere "raisonnement," intel- ligent or unintelligent intuitions are out of the question ; in- stead of these we have an investigation conducted by logical philosophy in the department of , those human achievements 32 PREFACE TO THE FIBST EDITION [which constitute History]. The categories have been al- ready demonstrated in other branches of the System, and the only point left to be determined is, whether they will be able also to verify themselves in the apparently intractable element of human caprice. But in order that this proceed- ing may bring with it a guarantee of its correctness, and I might' also say, of its honesty, the occurrences themselves are not metamorphosed by Thought, exhibited as otherwise than they really are, or in any way altered. The facts re- main as they were — as they appear in the historical tradi- tions of centuries: the Idea is their expositor, not their per- verter; and while the Philos ophy o f History th us in volves nothing more ^han the comprehension of^ the hidden mean- ing of the outward phenomenon, the philosophical art will consist in perceiving in what part of these phenomenal data a ganglion of Id eas lieSj which must be announced and dem- onstrated as such; and, as in Nature every straw, every animal, every stone cannot be deduced from general princi- ples, so the art in question will also discern where it should rise to the full height of speculation, or where, as remarked above, it may be content to lose itself in the confines of the merely superficial; it will know what is demonstrable, and what is simply attached to the demonstration as portraiture and characteristics; conscious of its dignity and power, it will not be content to expend its labor on indifEerent circumstances. This is in fact one of the chief merits of the present Lectures, that with all the speculative vigor which they display, they nevertheless concede their due to the Empiri- cal and Phenomenal; that they equally repudiate a subjec- tive raisonnement [a discussion following the mere play of individual fancy], and the forcing of all historical data into the mold of a formula; that they seize and pre"feent the Idea •both in logical development and in the apparently loose and irregular course of historical narrative, but yet without al- lowing this process to appear obtrusively in the latter. The so-called a priori method — which is, in fact, presumed to PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 33 consist in "making up" history without the aid of histori- cal facts — is therefore altogether different from what is pre- sented here; the author had no intention to assume the char- acter of a Grod, and to create History, but simply that of a man, addressing himself to consider that History which, replete with reason and rich with ideas, had already been created. The character of Lectures gives the work an additional advantage, which it would perhaps have wanted had it been composed at the outset with a view to publication as a book, and with the compact energy and systematic seriousness which such a design would have involved. Consisting of lectures, it must contemplate an immediate apprehension of its^"meaning"; it must be intended to excite the interest of youthful hearers, and associate what is to be presented to their attention with what they already know. And as of all the materials that can be subjected to philosophic treatment. History is always the one with whose subject persons of comparatively youthful years become earliest acquainted, the Philosophy of History may also be expected to connect itself with what was previously known, and not teach the subject itself as well as the ideas it embodies (as is the case, e.g. in ^Esthetics), but rather confine itself to exhibiting the workings of the Idea in a material to which the hearer is supposed to be no stranger. If this be done in a method partly constructive, partly merely characteristic, the advan- tage will be secured of presenting to the student a readable work — one which has affinities with ordinary intelligence, or at least is not very much removed from it. These Lec- tures therefore — and the remark is made without fear of contradiction — would form the readiest introduction to the Hegelian Philosophy: they are even more adapted to the purpose than the "Philosophy of Right" [or Law], which certainly presupposes in the student some ideas of its sub- ject to begin with. But the advantages of the Lecture form are not unaccompanied by the usual drawbacks in the pres- ent case. The necessity of developing principles at the 84 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION commencement, of embracing the entire subject, and of con- cluding within definite limits, must occasion an incongruity between the first and the latter part of the work. The opu- lence of facts which the Middle Ages offer us, and the wealth of ideas that characterizes the Modern Time, may possibly induce dissatisfaction at the attention which, simply because it is the beginning, is devoted to the East. This naturally leads us to the principles which have been adopted in the composition of the work in its present dress; as they concern, first, its contents, and secondly, its form. In a lecture, the teacher endeavors to individualize his knowledge and acquisitions: by the momentum of oral de- livery he breathes a life into his intellectual materials which a mere book cannot possess. Not only are digressions, am- plifications, repetitions, and the introduction of analogies which are but distantly connected with the main subject, in place in every lecture, but without these ingredients an oral discourse would be dry and lifeless. That Hegel pos- sessed this didactic gift, notwithstanding, all prejudices to the contrary, might be proved by his manuscripts alone, which by no means contain the whole of ^^hat was actually delivered, as also by the numerous changes and transforma- tions that mark the successive resumptions of an old course of lectures. The illustrations were not infrequently dispro- portioned to the speculative matter-, the beginning (and sim- ply because it was such) was so greatly expanded, that if all the narrative sections, descriptions, and anecdotes had been inserted, essential detriment would have resulted to the ap- pearance of the book. In the first delivery of his lectures on the Philosophy of History, Hegel devoted a full third of his time to the Introduction and to China — a part of the work which was elaborated with wearisome prolixity. Although in subsequent deliveries he was less circumstantial in regard to this Empire, the editor was obliged to reduce the descrip- tion to such proportions as would prevent the Chinese sec- tion from encroaching upon, and consequently prejudicing the treatment of, the other parts of the work. That kind of PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 35 editorial labor which was most called for in this part was necessary in a less degree in all the other divisions. The Editor had to present Lectures in the form of a Book: he was obliged to turn oral discourse ^nto readable matter: the, notes of students and the manuscripts which constituted his materials were of different dates; he had to undertake the task of abridging the diflEuseness of delivery, bringing the narrative matter into harmony with the speculative observations of the author, taking due precautions that the later lectures should not be thrust into a corner by the earlier ones, and that the earlier ones should be freed from that aspect of isolation and disconnection which they pre- sented. On the other hand, he was bound not to forget for one moment that the book contained lectures; the naivete, the abandon, the enthusiastic absorption in the immediate subject which makes the speaker indifferent as to when or how he shall finish, had to be left intact; and even frequent repetitions, where they did not too much interrupt the course of thought, or weary the reader, could not be al- together obliterated. But notwithstanding the full measure of license, which in the nature of the case must be conceded to the Editor, and the reconstructive duties imposed upon him by compi- lation, it can be honestly averred that in no case have the ideas of the compiler been substituted for those of Hegel — that a genuine, altogether unadulterated work of the great philosopher is here offered to the reader, and that, if the editor had followed another plan, no choice would have been left him but either to produce a book which none could have enjoyed, or, on the other hand, to insert too much of his own in place of the materials that lay before him. As regards the style of the work, it must be observed that the Editor was obliged to write it out from beginning to end. For one part of the Introduction, however (as far as page 109 of this book), he had ready to hand an elabora- tion begun by Hegel in 1830, which, though it was not de- signed expressly for publication, was manifestly intended 36 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION to take the place of earlier Introductions. The Editor — though all his friends did not adopt his view of the matter —believed that where a Hegelian torso was in existence, he ought to refrain from all interpolations of his own and from revisional alterations. He was desirous not to weaken the firm phalanx of the Hegelian style by introducing phrases of any other stamp or order, even at the risk of being thus obliged to forego a certain unity of expression. He thought that it could not be otherwise than gratifying to the reader to encounter — at least through some part of the book — the strong, pithy and sometimes gnarled style of the author; he wislied to afford him the pleasure of pursuing the laby- rinthine windings of thought under the guidance of his often less than flexible but always safe and energetic hand. From the point at which these elaborated fragments ceased, began the real task of giving the work an integral form; but this was performed with constant regard for the peculiar terms of expression which the manuscripts and notes exhibited: the Editor gladly exchanged the words which offered them- selves to his own pen for others which he would perhaps not have preferred himself, but which seemed to him more characteristic of the author; only where it was absolutely necessary has he been willing to complete, to fill up, to sup- plement ; in short he has been anxious as far as possible to make no sort of change in the peculiar type of the composi- tion, and to offer to the public not a book of his own but that of another. The Editor cannot therefore become re- sponsible for its expression, as if it were his own ; he had to present a material and trains of thought not his own, and as far as possible to avoid travelling far out of the limits of that order of phrases in which they were originally clothed. Only within these given and predetermined conditions, which are at the same time impediments to a free style, can the Editor be made accountable. Hegel's manuscripts were the first materials to which the Editor had recourse. These often contain only single words and names connected by dashes, evidently intended to aid PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 37 the memory in teaching; then again longer sentences, and sometimes a page or more fully written out. From this lat- ter part of the manuscript could be taken many a striking expression, many an energetic epithet: the hearers' notes were corrected and supplemented by it, and it is surprising with what unwearied perseverance the author continually returns to former trains of thought. Hegel appears in these memorials as the most diligent and careful teacher, always intent upon deepening fugitive impressions, and clinching what might pass away from the mind with the strong rivets of the Idea. As regards the second part of my materials, the notes, I have had such — reporting all the five deliveries of this course, 1811, ISM, 18lf, ISM, IBM '—in the handwrit- ing of Geh. Ober-Eegierungs Eath Schulze, Capt. von Gries- heim. Prof. Hotho, Dr. Warder, Dr. Heimann, and the son of the philosopher, M. Charles Hegel. It was not till the session of IBM that Hegel came to treat somewhat more largely of the Middle Ages and the Modern Time, and the sections of the present work devoted to those periods are for the most part taken from this last delivery of the course. To many of my respected colleagues and friends, whom I would gladly name if I might presume upon their permis- sion to do so, I am indebted for emendations, additions, and assistance of every kind. Without such aids, the book would be much less complete as regards the historical illus- tration of principles than it may perhaps be deemed at present. With this, publication of the "Philosophy of History," that of the ".^sthetik" within a few months, and that of the "Encyclopadie" in its new form and Style, which will not have long to be waited for, the work of editing and publish- ing Hegel's writings will be completed. For our Friend and Teacher it will be a monument of fame; for the editors a ■ These lectures were delivered in the University ui Berlin, to which Hegel was called in 1818. "He there lectured for thirteen years, and formed a - I cannot mention any work that will serve as a compendium of the course, but I may remark that in my "Outlines of the Philosophy of Law," §§ 341-360, I have already given a definition of such a TTniversal History as it is proposed to develop, and a syllabus of the chief elements or periods Into which it naturally .divides itseU. (43) 44 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY him by his emotions; projecting it into an image for the con- ceptive faculty. These original historians did, it is true, find statements and narratives of other men ready to hand. One person cannot be an eye and ear witness of everything. But they make use of such aids only as the poet does of that heritage of an already-formed language, to which he owes so much; merely as an ingredient. Historiographers bind together the fleeting elements of story, and treasure them up for immortality in the Temple of Mnemosyne. Legends, Ballad-stories, Traditions must be excluded from such origi- nal history. These are but dim and hazy forms of historical apprehension, and therefore belong to nations whose intelli- gence is but half awakened. Here, on the contrary, we have to do with people fully conscious of what they were and what they were about. The domain of reality — actually seen, or capable of being so — affords a very different basis in point of firmness from that fugitive and shadowy element, in which were engendered those legends and poetic dreams whose historical prestige vanishes as soon as nations have attained a mature individuality. Such original historians, then, change the events, the deeds and the' states of society with which they are conver- sant, into an object for the conceptive faculty. The narra- tives they leave us cannot, therefore, be very comprehensive in their range. Herodotus, Thucydides, Guicciardini, may be taken as fair samples of the classm this respect. What is present and living in their environment, is their proper material. The influences that have formed the writer are identical with those which have molded the events that constitute the matter of his story. The author's spirit, and that of the actions he narrates, is one and the same. He describes scenes in which he himself has been an actor, or at any rate an interested spectator. It is short periods of time, individual shapes of persons and occurrences, single, unreflected traits, of which he makes his picture. And his aim is nothing more than the presentation to posterity of an image of events as clear as that which he himself possessed INTRODUCTION 45 in virtue of personal observation, or lifelike descriptions. Eeflections are none of his business, for he lives in the spirit of his subject; he has not attained an elevation above it. If, as in Caesar's case, he belongs to the exalted rank of gen- erals or statesmen, it is the prosecution of his own aims that constitutes. the history. Such speeches as we find in Thucydides (for example) of which we can positively assert that they are not bond fide reports, would seem to make against our statement that a historian of his class presents us no reflected picture; that persons and people appear in his works in proprid persond. Speeches, it must be allowed, are veritable transactions in the human commonwealth; in fact, very gravely influential transactions. It is, indeed, often said, "Such and such things are only talk"; by way of demonstrating their harmlessness. That for which this excuse is brought may be, mere "talk"; and talk enjoys the important privilege of being harmless. But addresses of peoples to peoples, or orations directed to nations and to princes, are integrant constituents of history. Granted that such orations as those of Pericles — that most profoundly accomplished, genuine, noble statesman — were elaborated by Thueydides; it must yet be maintained that they were not foreign to the charac- ter of the speaker. In the orations in question, these men proclaim the maxims adopted by their countrymen, and which formed their own character; they record their views of their political relations, and of their moral and spiritual nature; and the principles of their designs and conduct. What the historian puts into their mouths is no suppositi- tious system of ideas, but an uncorrupted transcript of their intellectual and moral habitudes. Of these historians, whom we must make thoroughly our own, with whom we must linger long, if we would live with their respective nations, and enter deeply into their spirit: of these historians, to whose pages we may turn not for the purpose of erudition merely, but with a view to deep and genuine enjoyment, there are fewer than might be imagined. 46 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Herodotus the FatheTy i.e. the Faunder of History, and Thucydides have been atkeady mentioned. Xenophon's Retreat of the Ten Thousand, is a work eqtially original. Csesar's Commentaries are the simple maaterpieee of a mighty spirit. Among the ancients, thjes:e annalists were necessarily great captains and statesmen. In the Middle Ages, if we except the Bishops, who were placed in the very centre of the political world, the Monks monopoliae this category as naive chroniclers who were as decidedly isolated from active life as those elder annalists had been connected with it. In modem times the relations are en- tirely altered. Our cuttiire is essentially comprehensive, and immediately changes all events into historical represen- tations. Belonging to the class in question, we have vivid, simple, clear narrations — especially of military transactions — which might fairly take -their place with those of CsBsair. In richness of matter and fulness of detail as regards strate- gic appliances,, and attendant circumstances, they are even more instructive. The French "Memoires" also, fall undsr this category. In many cases these are written by meni of-, mark, though relating to afEairs of little note. They not infrequently contain a large proportion of anecdotical mat- ter, so that the ground they occupy is narrow and trivial. Yet they are often veritable lasiasterpieces im history; as those of Cardinal Betz, which in fact trench on a larger historical field. In Germany such masters are rare. Frederick the Great ("Histoire de mon temps") is an illustrious exceptioBB. Writers of this order must occupy an elevated position. Only from such a position is it possible to take an extensive view of afEairs — to see everything. This is out of the ques- tion for him, who from below merely gets a glimipse of the great world through a miserable cranny. IL The second kind of history we may call the' r^ecHve. It is history whose mode of represemtation is not really can- fined by the limits of the time to which it relates, but whose spirit transcends the present. In this second order a strongly marked variety of species may be distinguished. INTRODUCTION 4.7 1.C It is the aim of the investigator to gain a view of the entire history of a people or a country, or of the world, in short, what we call Universal History. In this case the working up of the historical material is the main point. The workman approaches his task with his own spirit; a spirit distinct from that of the element he is to manipulate. Here a very important consideration will be the principles to which the author refers the bearing and motives of the actions and events which he describes, and those which de- termine the form of his narrative.3 Among us Germans this reflective treatment, and the display of ingenuity which it occasions, assume a manifold variety of phases. Every writer of history proposes to himself an original method. The English and French confess to general principles of historical composition. Their standpoint is more that of cosmopolitan or of national culture. Among us each labors to invent a purely individual point of view. Instead of writing history, we are always beating our brains to dis- cover how history ought to be written. This first kind of Beflective History is most nearly akin to the preceding, when it has no further aim than lio present the annals of a country complete. Such compilations (among which may be reckoned the works of Livy, Diodorus Siculus, Johannes von Miiller's History of Switzerland) are, if well performed, highly meritorious. Among the best of the kind may be reckoned such annalists as approach those of the first class; who give so vivid a transcript of events that the reader may well fancy himself listening to contemporaries and eye-wit- nesses. But it often happens that the individuality of tone which must characterize a writer belonging to a different culture is not modified in accordance with the periods such a record must traverse. The spirit of the writer is quite other than that of the times of which he treats. Thus Livy puts into the mouths of the old Boman kings, consuls, and generals, such orations as would be delivered by an accom- plished advocate of the Livian era, and which strikingly contrast with the genuine traditions of Boman antiquity 48 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY (e.g. the fable of Menenius Agrippa). In the same way he gives us descriptions of battles, as if he had been aa actual spectator; but whose features would serve well enough for battles in any period, and whose distinctness contrasts on the other hand with the want of connection, and the incon- sistency that prevail elsewhere, even in his treatment of chief points of interest. The difference between such a compiler and an original historian may be best seen by com- paring Polybius himself with the style in which Livy uses, expands, and abridges his annals in those periods of which Polybius's account has been preserved. Johannes von Miiller has given a stiff, formal, pedantic aspect to his history, in the endeavor to remain faithful in his portrait- ure to the times he describes. We much prefer the narra- tives we find in old Tschudy. All is more naive and natu- ral than it appears in the garb of a fictitious and affected archaism. A history which aspires to traverse long periods of time, or to be universal, must indeed forego the attempt to give individual representations of the past as it actually existed. It must foreshorten its pictures by abstractions; and this includes not merely the omission of events and deeds, but whatever is involved in the fact that Thought is, after all, the most trenchant epitomist. A battle, a great victory, a siege, no longer maintains its original proportions, but is put off with a bare mention. When Livy e.g. tells us of the wars with the Yolsci, we sometimes have the brief announce- ment: "This year war was carried on with the Volsci." 2. A second species of Befiective History is what we may qall-iiie,^^agmaHeal. When we have to deal with the Past, and oconpy~inxTsel];es with a remote world, a Present rises into being for the imncl==>prodaced by its own act ivity , as the reward of its labor. The ocoarrences~are, indeed, vari- ous; but the idea which pervades them — ^their deeper import and connection — is one.- This takes the occurrence out of the category of the Past and makes it virtually Present. Pragmatical (didactic) reflectione, though in their Dature INTRODUCTION 49 decidedly abstract, are truly and indefeasibly of the Pres- ent, and quicken the annals of the dead Past with the life of to-day. Whether, indeed, such reflections are truly in- teresting and enlivening, depends on the writer's own spirit. Moral reflections must here be specially noticed — the moral teaching expected from history ; which latter has not infre- - quently been treated with a direct view to the former. It may be allowed that examples of virtue elevate the soul, and are applicable in the moral instruction of children for impressing excellence upon their minds. But the destinies of peoples and states, their interests, relations, and the com- plicated tissue of their affairs, present quite another field. Eulers, Statesmen, Nations, are wont to be emphatically commended to the teaching which experience offers in his- tory. But what experience and history teach is this — that peoples and governments never have learned anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from it. Bach period is involved in such peculiar circumstances, exhibits a con- dition of things so strictly idiosyncratic, that its conduct must be regulated by considerations connected with itself, and itself alone. Amid the pressure of great events, a gen- eral principle gives no help. It is useless to revert to simi- lar circumstances in the Past. The pallid shades of memory struggle in vain with the life and freedom of the Present. Looked at in this light, nothimg can be shallower than the oft-repeated appeal to Greek and Eoman examples during the French Eevolution. Nothing is more diverse than the genius of those nations and that of our times. Johannes v. Miiller, in his Universal History as also m his History of Switzerland, had such moral aims in view. He designed to prepare a body of political doctrines for the instruction of princes, governments and peoples (he formed a special collection of doctrines and reflections — ^frequently giving us in his correspondence the exact number of apoth^ms which he had compiled in a week); but he cannot reckon this part of his labor as among the best that he accom- plished. It is only a thorough, Hbeial, comprehensive view -"SOIENOB — 3 50 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY of historical relations (such e.g. as we find in Montesquieu's "Esprit des Loix"), that can give truth and interest to re- flections of this order. One Reflective History, therefore, supersedes another. The materials are patent to every writer: each is likely enough to believe himself capable of arranging and manipulating them; and we may expect that each will insist upon his own spirit as that of the age in question. Disgusted by such reflective histories, readers have often returned with pleasure to a narrative adopting no particular point of view. These certainly have their value; but for the most part they oflEer only material for history. We Germans are content with such. The French, on the other hand, display great genius in reanimating bygone times, and in bringing the past to bear upon the present condition of things. 3. The third form of Eeflective History is the Critical. This deserves mention as pre-eminently the mode of treat- ing history now current in Germany. It is not history itself that is here presented. We might more properly designate it as a History of History; a criticism of historical narra- tives and an investigation of their truth and credibility. Its peculiarity in point of fact and of intention, consists in the acuteness with which the writer extorts something from the records which was not in the matters recorded. The French have given us much that is profound and judicious in this class of composition. But they have not endeavored to pass a merely critical procedure for substantial history. They have duly presented their judgments in the form of critical treatises. Among us, the so-called "higher criti- cism," which reigns supreme in the domain of philology„ has also taken possession of our historical literature. This "higher criticism" has been the pretext for introducing all the anti-historical monstrosities that a vain imagination could suggest. Here we have the other method of mak- ing the past a living reality; putting subjective fancies in the place of historical data ; fancies whose merit is measured by their boldness, that is, the scantiness of the particulars INTRODUCTION 51 on which they are based, and the peremptoriness with which they contravene the best established facts of history. 4. The last species of Eeflective Hisliory announces its fragmentary character on the very face of it. It adopts an abstract position; yet, since it takes general points of view {e.g. as the History of Art, of Law, of Eeligion), it forms a transition to the Philosophical History of the World. In our time this form of the history of ideas has been more developed and brought into notice. Such branches of national life stand in close relation to the entire complex of a people's annals; and the question of chief importance in relation to our subject is, whether the connection of the whole is exhibited in its truth and reality, or rieferred to merely external relations. In the latter case, these impor- tant phenomena (Art, Law, Eeligion, etc.) appear as purely accidental national peculiarities. It must be remarked that, when Eeflective History has advanced to the adoption of general points of view, if the position taken is a true one, these are found to constitute — not a merely external thread, a superficial series — but are the inward guiding soul of the occurrences and actions that occupy a nation's annals. For, like the soul-conductor Mercury, the Idea is, in truth, the leader of peoples and of the World; and Spirit, the rational and necessitated will of that conductor, is and has been the director of the events of the World's History. To become acquainted with Spirit in this its oflSce of guidance is the object of our present undertaking.' This brings us to III. The third kind of history — the Philosophical. No explanation was needed of the two previous classes; their nature was self-evident. It is otherwise with this last, which certainly seems to require an exposition or justification. cThe most general definition that can be given, is, thatjhe Phi losoph y of Histo ry mean s nothing but^ ^^_ ^auqhtful consideration of it.3 Thought is, indeed, essential to human- It^ It is this that distinguishes us from the brutes. In sensation, cognition and intellection; in our instincts and volitions, as far as they are truly human. Thought is an 52 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY invariable element. To insist upon Thought in this con- nection with history, may, however, appear unsatisfactory. In this science it would seem as if Thought must be subor- dinate to what is given, to the realities of fact; that this is its basis and guide : while Philosophy dwells in the region of self-produced ideas, without reference to actuality. Ap- proaching history thus prepossessed, Speculation might be expected to treat it as a mere passive material ; and, so far from leaving it in its native truth, to force it into conformity with a tyrannous idea, and to construe it, as the phrase is, '^a priori.^' But as it is the business of history simply to adopt into its records what is and has been, actual occur- . rences and transactions; and since it remains true to its character in proportion as it strictly adheres to its data, we seem to have in Philosophy a process diametrically opposed to that of the historiographer. This contradiction, and the charge consequently brought against speculation, shall be explained and confuted. We do not, however, propose to correct the innumerable special misrepresentations, trite or novel, that are current respecting the aims, the interests, and the modes of treating history, and its relation to Philosophy. eThe only_Thought which Philoso phy brings^ with it to the contemplation of History,^ is the simple eonceptipjj of Beas on; that Eeason is the Sovereign of.the^ WotI^; jthaLthe. history of tEe worT3^, therefore, presents us with a rational process. This conviction and intuition is a hypothesis in the dom^n of history as such. In that of Philosophy it is no hypothesis. It is there proved by speculative cognition, that Eeason — and this term may here suffice us, without investigating the relation sustained by the Universe to the Divine Being — is Substance, as well as Infinite Power; its own Infinite Material underlying all the natural and spiritual life which it originates, as also the Infinite Form — that which sets this Material in motion. On the one hand. Reason is the substance of the Universe; viz. that by which and in which all reality has its being and subsistence. On the other hand, it is the Infinite Energy of the Universe; since INTRODUCTION 53 Reason is not so powerless as to be incapable of producing anything but a mere ideal, a mere intention — having its place outside reality, nobody knows where; something sepa- rate and abstract, in the heads of certain human beings. It is the^ infinite complex of things, their entire Essence and Truth. It is its own material which it commits to its own Active Energy to work up; not needing, as finite action does, the conditions of an external material of given means from which it may obtain its support, and the objects of its activity. It supplies its own nourishment, and is the object of its own operations. While it is exclusively its own basis of existence, and absolute final aim, it is also the energizing power realizing this aim; developing it not only in the phe- nomena of the Natural, but also of the Spiritual Universe — the History of the "World. That this "Idea" or "Eeason" is the True, the Eternal, the absolutely powerful essence; that it reveals itself in the World, and that in that World nothing else is revealed but this and its honor and glory — is the thesis which, as we have said, has been proved in Philosophy, and is here regarded as demonstrated. In those of my hearers who are not acquainted with Philosophy, I may fairly presume, at least, the existence of a belief in Reason, a desire, a thirst for acquaintance with it, in entering upon this course of Lectures. It is, in fact, the wish for rational insight, not the ambition to amass a mere heap of requirements, that should be presupposed in every case as possessing the mind of the learner in the study of science. If the clear idea of Reason is not already developed in our minds, in beginning the study of Universal History, we should at least have the firm, unconquerable faith that Reason does exist there; and that the World of intelligence and conscious volition is,ja pt abandone d^tp c hance, b ut mnst^ho w itself in the l ight of the self -cogniz ant I^a! YetTfam ilot obliged to make any such preliminary demand upon your faith. What I have said thus provision- ally, and what I shall have further to say, is, even in reference to our branch of science, not to be regarded as 64 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY hypothetical, but as a summary view of the whole; the result of the investigation we are about to pursue; a result which happens to be known to me, because I have traversed the entire field, c It is only an inference from the history ,of the World, that its development has been a rational proc- ess; that the history in question has constituted the rational necessary course of the World-Spirit — that Spirit whose nature is always one and the same, but which unfolds this its one nature in the phenomena of the World's existence, i This must, as before stated, present itself as the ultimate result of History. But we have to take the latter as it is. We must proceed historically — empirically. Among other precautions we must take care not to be misled by professed historians who (especially among the Germans, and enjoy- ing a considerable authority) are chargeable with the very procedure of which they accuse the Philosopher — intro- ducing a priori inventions of their own into the records of the Past. It is, for example, a widely current fiction, that there was an original primeval people, taught immediately by God, endowed with perfect insight and wisdom, possess- ing a thorough knowledge of all natural laws and spiritual truth; that there have been such or such sacerdotal peoples; or, to mention a more specific averment, that there was a Roman Epos, from which the Roman historians derived the early annals of their city, etc. Authorities of this kind we leave to those talented historians by profession, among whom (in Germany at least) their use is not uncommon. — We might then announce it as the first condition to be ob- served, that we should faithfully adopt all that is historical. But in such general expressions themselves, as "faithfully" and "adopt," lies the ambiguity. Even the ordinary, the "impartial" historiographer, who believes and professes that he maintains a simply receptive attitude; surrendering himself only to the data supplied him — is by no means passive as regards the exercise of his thinking powers. He brings his categories with him, and sees the phenomena presented to his mental vision, exclusively through these INTRODUCTION 55 media. And, especially in all that pretends to the name of science, it is indispensable that Reason should not sleep — that reflection should be in full play. To him who looks upon the world rationally, the world in its turn presents a rational aspect. The relation is mutual. But the various exercises of reflection — the different points of view — the modes of deciding the simple question of the relative im- portance of events (the first category that occupies the attention of the historian), do not belong to this place. I will only mention two phases and points of view that concern the generally diffused conviction that Reason has ruled, and is still ruling in the world, and consequently in the world's history, because they give us, at the same time, an opportunity for more closely investigating the question that presents the greatest difficulty, and for indicating a branch of the subject which will have to be enlarged on in the sequel. I. — One of these points, is that passage in history which informs us that the Greek Anaxagoras was the first to enun- 1^ elate the doctrine that vo^, L nderstanding generally, or Reason, governs the world. It is not intelligence as self- conscious Reason — not a Spirit as such that is meant; and we must clearly distinguish these from each other. The^^ movement of the solar system takes place according to un- changeable laws. These laws are Reason, implicit in the phenomena in question. But neither the sun nor the plan- ets, which revolve around it according to these laws, can be said to have any consciousness of them. A thought of this kind — that Nature is an embodiment of Reason ; that it is unchangeably subordinate to universal laws, appears nowise striking or strange to us. We are accustomed to such conceptions, and find nothing extraor- dinary in them. And I have mentioned this extraordinary occurrence, partly to show how history teaches that ideas of this kind, which may seem trivial to us, have not always been in the world; that, on the contrary, such a thought makes an epoch in the annals of human intelligence. 56 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Aristotle says of Anaxagoras, as the originator of the thought in question, that he appeared as a sober man among the drunken, Socrates adopted the doctrine from Anaxag- oras, and it forthwith became the ruling idea in Philosophy — except in the school of Epicurus, who ascribed all events to chance. "I was delighted with the sentiment" — Plato makes Socrates say — "and hoped I had found a teacher who would show me Nature in harmony with Eeason, who would demonstrate in each particular phenomenon its specific aim, and, in the whole, the grand object of the Universe. I would not have surrendered this hope for a great deal. But how very much was I disappointed, when, having zealously applied myself to the writings of Anaxagoras, I found that he adduces only external causes, such as Atmosphere, Ether, Water, and the like." It is evident that the defect which Socrates complains of respecting Anaxagoras's doc- trine does not concern the principle itself, but the short- coming of the propounder in applying it to Nature in the concrete. Nature is not deduced from that principle: the latter remains in fact a mere abstraction, inasmuch as the former is not comprehended and exhibited as a develop- ment of it — an organization produced by and from Reason. j I wish, at the very outset, to call your attention to the im- i portant difiference between a conception, a principle, a truth ' limited to an abstract form and its determinate ap plicatio n, and concrete development. This distinction affects the whole fabric of philosophy; and among other bearings of it there is one to which we shall have to revert at the close of our view of Universal History, in investigating the aspect of political affairs in the most recent period. We have next to notice the rise of this idea — that Reason directs the World — in connection with a further application of it, well known to us — in the form, viz., of the religious truth, that the world is not abandoned to chance and ex- ternal contingent causes, but that a Providence controls it. I stated above, that I would not make a demand on jour faith, in regard to the principle announced. Yet I might INTRODUCTION 57 appeal to your belief ia it, in this religious aspect, if, as a general rule, the nature of philosophical science allowed it to attach authority to presuppositions. To put it in another shape — this appeal is forbidden, because the science of which we have to treat proposes itself to furnish the proof (not indeed of the abstract Truth of the doctrine, but) of its cor- rectness as compared with facts. ^ The truth, then, that a Providence (that of God) presides over the events of the World — consorts with the proposition in question; for Divine Providence is "Wisdom, endowed with an infinite Power, which realizes its aim, viz. the absolute rational design of the World. Eeason is Thought conditioning itself with perfect freedom.^ But a difference — rather a contradic- tion — will manifest itself, between this belief and our prin- ciple, just as was the case in reference to the demand made by Socrates in the case of Anaxagoras's dictum. For that iaelief is similarly indefinite; it is what is called a belief in a general Providence, and is not followed out into definite application, or displayed in its bearing on the grand total — the entire course of human history. But to explain History is to depict the passions of mankind, the genius, the active powers, that play their part on the great stage; and the providentially determined process which these exhibit con- stitutes what is generally called the "plan" of Providence. Yet it is this very plan which is supposed to be concealed from our view: which it is deemed presumption even to wish to recognize. The ignorance of Anaxagoras, as to how intelligence reveals itself in actual existence, was ingenuous. Neither in his consciousness, nor in that of Greece at large, had that thought been further expanded. He had not at- tained the power to apply his general principle to the con- crete, so as to deduce the latter from the former. It was Socrates who took the first step in comprehending the union of the Concrete with the Universal. Anaxagoras, then, did not take up a hostile position toward such an application. The common belief in Providence does; at least it opposes the use of the principle on the large scale, and denies the 58 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY possibility of discerniBg the plan of Providence. In isolated cases tMs plan is supposed to be manifest. Pious persons are encouraged to recognize, in particular circumstances, something more than mere chance; to acknowledge the guiding hand of God; e.g. when help has unexpectedly- come to an individual in great perplexity and need. But these instances of providential design are of a limited kind, and concern the accomplishment of nothing more than the desires of the individual in question. But in the history of the World, the Individuals we have to do with are Peoples; Totalities that are States. We cannot, therefore, be satis- fied with what we may call this "peddling" view of Provi- dence, to which the belief alluded to limits itself. Equally unsatisfactory is the merely abstract, undefined belief in a Providence, when that belief is not brought to bear upon the details of the process which it conducts. On the con- trary, our earnest endeavor must be directed to the recogni- tion of the ways of Providence, the means it uses, and the historical phenomena in which it manifests itself; and we must show their connection with the general principle above mentioned. But in noticing the recognition of the plan of Divine Providence generally, I have implicitly touched upon a prominent question of the day; viz. that of the possibility of knowing God : or rather — since public opinion has ceased to allow it to be a matter of question — the doctrine that it is impossible to know God. In direct contravention of what is commanded in holy Scripture as the highest duty — tfiat we should not merely love, but know God — the prev- alent dogma involves the denial of what is there said; viz. that it is the Spirit (der Geist) that leads into Truth, knows all things, penetrates even into the deep things of the God- head. While the Divine Being is thus placed beyond our knowledge, and outside the limit of all human things, wo have the convenient license of wandering as far as we list in the direction of our own fancies. We are freed from the obligation to refer our knowledge to the Divine and True. On the other hand, the vanity and egotism which character- INTRODUCTION 59 ize it, find, in this false position, ample justification; and tlie pious modesty which puts far from it the knowledge of God, can well estimate how much furtherance thereby accrues to its own wayward and vain strivings. I have been unwilling to leave out of sight the connection between our thesis — that Reason governs and has governed the World — and the question of the possibility of a knowledge of God, chiefly that I might not lose the opportunity of mentioning the im- putation against Philosophy of being shy of noticing re- ligious truths, or of having occasion to be so; in which is insinuated the suspicion that it has anything but a clear conscience in the presence of these truths. So far from this being the case, the fact is, that in recent times Philosophy has been obliged to defend the domain of religion against the attacks of several theological systems. In the Christian religion God has' revealed Himself — that is, he has given us to understand what He is ; so that He is no longer a con- cealed or secret existence. And this possibility of knowing Him, thus afforded us, renders such knowledge a duty. God wishes no narrow-hearted souls or empty heads for his children; but those whose spirit is of itself indeed poor, but rich in the knowledge of Him; and who regard this knowl- edge of God as the only valuable possession. That develop- ment of the thinking spirit, which has resulted from the revelation of the Divine Being as its original basis, must ultimately advance to the intellectual comprehension of what was presented in the first instance, to feeling and imagina- tion. The time must eventually come for understanding that rich product of active Reason, which the History of the World offers to us. It was for a while the fashion to profess admiration for the wisdom of God, as displayed in animals, plants, and isolated occurrences. But, if it be allowed that Providence manifests itself in such objects and forms of existence, why not also in Universal History. This is deemed too great a matter to be thus regarded. But Divine Wisdom, i.e. Reason, is one and the same in the great as in the little; and we must not imagine God to be too weak 60 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY to exercise his wisdom on tlie grand scale. Our intellectual striving aims at realizing the conviction that what was intended by eternal wisdom is actually accomplished in the domain of existent, active Spirit, as well as in that of mere Ifature. Our mode of treating the subject is, in this aspect, a Theodicsea — a justification of the ways of God — which Leibnitz attempted metaphysically in his method, i.e. in indefinite abstract categories— so that the ill that is found in the "World may be comprehended, and the thinking Spirit reconciled with the fact of the existence of evil. Indeed, nowhere is such a harmonizing view more press- ingly demanded than in Universal History; and it can be attained only by recognizing the positive existence, in which that negative element is a subordinate, and vanquished nullity. On the one hand, the ultimate design of the World must be perceived; and, on the other hand, the fact that this design has been actually realized in it, and that evil has not been able permanently to assert a competing position. But this conviction involves much more than the mere belief in a superintending voD?, or in "Providence." "Eeason," whose sovereignty over the World has been maintained, is as indefinite a term as "Providence," supposing ,the term to be used by those who are unable to characterize it dis- tinctly — to show wherein it consists, so as to enable us to de- cide whether a thing is rational or irrational. An adequate definition of Reason is the first desideratum ; and whatever boast may be made of strict adherence to it in explaining phenomena — without such a definition we get no further than mere words. With these observations we may proceed to the second point of view that has to be considered. II. The inquiry into the essential desUny of Beason — as far as it is considered in reference to the World — is identical with the question, what is the ultimate design of the world ? And the expression implies that that design is destined to be realized. Two points of consideration suggest them- selves: first, the import of this design — its abstract defini- tion', and secondly, its realizatian. INTRODUCTION 61 It muet be observed at the ouitset, that the |)!hen«BoneiQoii we investigate — Universal History — belongs to the realm of Spirit. The term '^World,^^ includes both physical and psyelhieal Nature. Physical Natnre also plays its pa^rt in the World's History, and attention ■will have to be paid to the fundamental natural relations thus involved. But Spirit, and the course of its developmenit, is our substantial object. Our task ■does not require us to contemplate Nature as a National System in itself — though in its own proper domain it proves itself such — but simply in its relation to Spirit. On the stage on which we are observing it — Uni- versal History — Spirit displays itself in its most concrete reality. NotwithBtanding this (or rather for the very pur- pose of «omprehending the general primeiples which this, its form of concrete reality, embodies) we must premise some abstract characteristics of the nature of Spirit. Such an ex- planation, however, cannot be given here under any other form than that of bare assertion. The present is not the occasion for unfolding the idea of Spirit speculatively; for whatever has a place in an Introduction, must, as already observed, be taken as simply historical; something assumed as having been explained and proved elsewhere; or whose demonstration avraits the sequel of the Science of History itself. We have therefore to mention here: (1.) The abstract characteristics of the nature of Spirit. (2.) What means Spirit uses in order to realize its Idea. (3.) Lastly, we must "consider the shape which the per- j feet embodiment of Spirit assumes — the State. j (1.) The nature of Spirit may be understood by a glance ' at its direct opposite — Matter. As the essence of Matter is €rravity, so, on the othe&hand, we may affirm that the sub- stance, the essence of Spirit is Freedom. All will readUy assent to the doctrine that Spirit, among other properties, is also endowed with Freedom; but philosophy teaches that all the qualities of Spirit exist only thTomgh Freedom; that ail are but means for a'ttaining freedom; that aU seek and 62 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY produce this and this alone. It is a result of speculative Philosophy, that Freedoni is the sole truth of Spirit. Matter possesses gravity in virtue of its tendency toward a central point. It is essentially composite; consisting of parts that exclude each other. It seeks its Unity; and therefore exhibits itself as self-destructive, as verging to- ward its opposite [an indivisible point]. If it could attain this, it would be Matter no longer, it would have perished. It strives after the realization of its Idea; for in Unity it exists ideally. Spirit, on the contrary, may be defined as that which has its centre in itself. It has not a unity out- side itself, but has already found it; it exists in and with itself. Matter has its essence out of itself; Spirit is self- contained existence (Bei-sich-selbst-seyn). Now this is Free- dom, exactly. For if I am dependent, my being is referred to something else which I am not; I cannot exist indepen- dently of something external. I am free, on the contrary, when my existence depends upon myself. This self-con- tained existence of Spirit is none other than self -conscious- ness — consciousness of one's own being. Two things must be distinguished in consciousness ; first, the fact that I know ; secondly, what I know. In self consciousness these are merged in one; for Spirit knows itself. It involves an ap- preciation of its own nature, as also an energy enabJIng it to realize itself; to make itself actually that which it is potentially. cAccording to this abstract definition it may be said of Universal History, that it is the exhibition of Spirit in the. process of working out the knowledge of that which it is potentially. a And as the germ bears in itself the whole nature of the tree, and the taste and form of its fruits, so do the first traces of Spirit virtually contain the whole of that History. The Orientals have noj; attained the knowledge that Spirit — Man as such — is free; and because they do not know this, they are not free. They only know that one is free. But on this very account, the freedom of that one is only caprice ; ferocity — brutal recklessness of passion, or a mildness and tameness of the desires, which is itself only INTRODUCTION 63 an accident of Nature — mere caprice like the former. — That one is therefore only a Despot; not a free man. The con- sciousness of Freedom first arose among the Greeks, and therefore they were free; but they, and the Bomans like- wise, knew only that some are free — not man as such. Even Plato and Aristotle did not know this. The Greeks, there- fore, had slaves; and their whole life and the maintenance of their splendid liberty, was implicated with the institu- tion of slavery: a fact, moreover, which made that liberty on the one hand only an accidental, transient and limited growth; on the other hand, constituted it a rigorous thral- dom of our common nature — of the Human. The German nations, under the influence of Christianity, were the first to attain the consciousness, that man, as man, is free: that it is the jfreedom of Spirit which constitutes its essence. This consciousness arose first in religion, the inmost re- gion of Spirit; but to introduce the principle into the vari- ous relations of the actual world, involves a more extensive problem than its simple implantation; a problem whose solu- tion and application require a severe and lengthened process of culture. In proof of this, we may note that slavery did not cease immediately on the reception of Christianity. Still less did liberty predominate in States; or Governments and Constitutions adopt a rational organization, or recognize freedom as their basis. That application of the principle to political relations; the thorough molding and inter- penetration of the constitution of society by it, is a process identical with history itself. I have already directed atten- tion to the distinction here involved, between a principle as such, and its application; i.e. its introduction and carrying out in the actual phenomena of Spirit and Life. This is a point of fundamental importance in our science, and one which must be constantly respected as essential. And in the same way as this distinction has attracted attention in view of the Christian principle of self-consciousness — Free- dom; it also shows itself as an essential one, in view of the principle of Freedom generally. C ^e History of the world '^ '^ I -Sir THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY >. .. is none other than the progress of the conscious ness of Freedom r~a progress who se deveiopment acc wding to the necessity of its na.turg_it_is„our business to investigate. 3 The general statement given above, of "tEe'viirolis grades in the consciousness of Freedom — and which we applied in the first instance to the fact that the Eastern nations knew only that one is free; the Greek and Roman world only that some are free ; while we know that all men absolutely (man as man) are free — supplies us with the natural division of Universal History, and suggests the mode of its discussion. This is remarked, however, only incidentally and anticipa- tively; some other ideas must be first explained. The destiny of the spiritual World, and — since this is the substanti al Worl d, while the physical remains subordinate to it, or, in the language of speculation, has no truth as against the spiritual — the final cause of the World at large, we allege to be the consciousness of its own freedom on the part of Spirit, and ipso facto, the reality of that freedom. But that this term "Freedom," without further qualification, is an indefinite, and incalculable ambiguous term; and that while that which it represents is the ne plus ultra of attainment, it is liable to an infinity of misunderstandings, confusions and errors, and to become the occasion for all imaginable ex- cesses — has never been more clearly known and felt than in modern times. Yet, for the present, we must content ourselves with the term itself without further definition. Attention was also directed to the importance of the infi- nite difference between a principle in the abstract, and its realization in the concrete. In the process before us, the essential nature of freedom — which involves in it absolute necessity — is to be displayed as coming to a consciousness of itself (for it is in its very nature self-consciousness) and thereby realizing its existence. Itself is its own object of attainment, and the sole aim of Spirit. This result it is, at which the process of the World's History has been con- tinually aiming ; and to which the sacrifices that have ever and anon been laid on the vast altar of the earth, through INTRODUCTION 65 the long lapse of ages, have been offered. This is the only aim that sees itself realized and fulfilled ; the only pole of repose amid the ceaseless change of events and conditions, and the sole efficient principle that pervades them. This final aim is God's purpose with the world; but God is the absolutely perfect Being, and can, therefore, will nothing other than himself — his own Will. The Nature of His Will — that is, His Nature itself — is what we here call the Idea of Freedom ; translating the language of Religion into that of Thought. The question, then, which we may next put, is: What means does this principle of Freedom use for its realization? This is the second point we have to consider. (2.) The question of the means by which Freedom de- velops itself to a World, conducts us to the phenomenon of History itself. Although Freedom is, primarily, an un- developed idea, the means it uses are external and phe- nomenal; presenting themselves in History to our sensuous vision. The first glance at History convinces us that the actions of men proceed from their needs, their passions, their characters and talents; and impresses us with the belief that such needs, passions and interests are the sole springs of ac- tions—the efficient agents in this scene of activity. Among these may, perhaps, be found aims of a liberal or universal kind — benevolence it may be, or noble patriotism; but such virtues and general views are but insignificant as compared with the World and its doings. We may perhaps see the Ideal of Beason actualized in those who adopt stich aims, and within the sphere of their influence; but they bear only a trifling proportion to the mass of the human race; and the extent of that influence is limited accordingly. Passions, private aims, and the satisfaction of selfish desires, are, on the other hand, most effective springs of action. Their power lies in the fact that they respect none of the limita- tions which justice and morality would impose on them; and that these natural impulses have a more direct influ- ence over man than the artificial and tedious discipline that 6Q THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY tends to order and self-restraint, law and morality. Wker we look at this display of passions, and the consequencei of their violence; the Unreason which is associated not onl] with them, but even (rather we might say es^cially) witl good designs and righteous aims ; when we see the evil, th( vice", the ruin that has befallen the mosf flourishing king doms which the mind of man ever created; we can scarc( avoid being filled with sorrow at this universal taint o corruption; and, since this decay is not the work of men Nature, but of the Human Will — a moral imbitterment — i revolt of the Good Spirit (if it have a place within us) maj well be the result of our reflections. Without rhetorica exaggeration, a simply truthful combination of the miseriei that have overwhelmed the noblest of nations and polities and the finest exemplars of private virtue — forms a picture of most fearful aspect, and excites emotions of the profound est and most hopeless sadness, counterbalanced by no con solatory result. We endure in beholding it a mental tor ture, allowing no defence or escape but the consideratiot that what has happened could not be otherwise; that it is a fatality which no intervention could alter. And at las we draw back from the intolerable disgust with which thest sorrowful reflections threaten us into the more agreeablf environment of our individual life — the Present formed bj our private aims and interests. In short we retreat into th< selfishness that stands on the quiet shore, and thence enjoys in safety the distant spectacle of ' ' wrecks confusedly hurled. ' But even regarding History as the slaughter-bench at whicl the happiness of peoples, the wisdom of States, and the vir tue of individuals have been victimized — the question invol untarily arises — to what principle, to what final aim thes( enormous sacrifices have been offered. From this point th( investigation usually proceeds to that which we have mad( the general commencement of our inquiry. Starting fron this we pointed out those phenomena which made up a pic ture so suggestive of gloomy emotions and thoughtful reflec tions — as the very field which we, for our part,- regard as ex INTRODUCTION 67 hibiting only the means for realizing what we assert to be the essential destiny — the absolute aim, or — which comes to the same thing — the true result of the World's History. We have all along purposely eschewed "moral reflections" as a method of rising from the scene of historical specialities to the general principles which they embody. Besides, it is not the interest of such sentimentalities really to rise above those depressing emotions; and to solve the enigmas of Providence which the considerations that occasioned them present. It is essential to their character to find a gloomy satisfaction in the empty and fruitless sublimities of that negative result. We return then to the point of view which we have adopted; observing that the successive steps (Mo- mente) of the analysis, to which it will lead us, will also evolve the conditions requisite for answering the inquiries suggested by the panorama of sin and suffering that history nnfolds. The first remark we have to make, and which^ — though already presented more than once— cannot be too often re- peated when the occasion seems to call for it — is that what we call principle, aim, destiny, or the nature and idea of^ Spirit, is somethi ng merely general ancra5^^t.~~ TrmciT3l e ^ ^^ ^an oF^xistence — Law— is a hid den., undeveloped es- senc e, which as such — however true in itself — is not com - pTete ly^real. Aims, principles, etc., have a place in our thoughts, in our subjective design only; but not yet in the sphere of reality. That which exists for itself only, is a possibility, a potentiality; but has not yet emerged into Existence. A second element must be introduced in order to produce actuality — viz. actuation , re alization ; and whose motive power is the Will — the activity of man jn^ thgjridgst senseT" ]!F^ _onlv by this activity that that Idea as well a s aSstract" characteristics gen erally, lire" realized7 actualized ;i fmT oTTEemselves "t hey aire "powerles s. The motive power that puts them in operation, and gives them determinate existence, is the need, instinct, inclination, and passion of man. That some conception of mine should be developed jy THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY nto act and existence, is my earnest desire: I wish to issert my personality in connection with it: I wish to be ;atisfied by its execution. If I am to exert myself for any )bject, it must in some way or other be my object. In the iccomplishment of such or such designs I must at the same ;ime find my satisfaction; although the purpose for which [ exert myself includes a complication of results, many of /fhick have no interest for me. This is the absolute right )f personal existence— to find itself satisfied in its activity md labor. If men are to interest themselves for anything, ,hey must (so to speak) have part of their existence involved n it; find their individuality gratified by its attainment. Eere a mistake must be avoided.' We intend blame, and ustly impute it as a fault, when we say of an individual, .hat he is "interested" (in taking part in such or such trans- ictions), that is, seeks only his private advantage. In •eprehending this we find fault with him for furthering his Dersonal aims without any regard to a more comprehensive lesign; of which he takes advantage to promote his own nterest, or which he even sacrifices with this view. But le who is active in promoting an object, is not simply "inter- ested," but interested in that object itself. Language faith- :ully expresses this distinction. — Nothing therefore happens, lothing is accomplished, unless the individuals concerned seek their own satisfaction in the issue. They are particular inits of society; i.e. they have special needs, instincts, and nterests generally, peculiar to themselves. Among these leeds are not only such as we usually call necessities — the stimuli of individual desire and volition — but also those jonnected with individual views and convictions; or — to ase a term expressing less decision — leanings of opinion; supposing the impulses of reflection, understanding, and •eason, to have been awakened. In these cases people de- Tiand, if they are to exert themselves in any direction, that she object should commend itself to them ; that in point of jpinion — whether as to its goodness, justice, advantage, profit — they should be able to "enter into it" (dabei seyn). INTRODUCTION 69 This is a consideration of especial importance in our age, when people are less than formerly influenced by reliance on others, and by authority; when, on the contrary, they devote their activities to a cause on the ground of their own understanding, their independent conviction and opinion. ; We assert then that nothing has been accomplished with- out interest on the part of the actors; and — if interest be called passion, inasmuch as the whole individuality, to the neglect of all other actual or possible interests and claims, is devoted to an object with every fibre of volition, concen- trating all its desires and powers upon it — we may affirm absolutely that nothing great in the World has been accom- plished without passion. Two elements, therefore, enter into the object of our investigation; the first the Idea, the second the complex of human passions; the one the warp, the other the woof of the vast arras-web of Universal His- tory. The concrete mean and union of the two is Liberty, under the conditions of morality in a State. We have spoken of the Jdea of Freedom a s the nature of Spirit, and the absolute goal of History. Passion is regarded as a thing of sinister aspect, as more of less immoral. Man is required to have no passions. Passion, it is true, is not quite the suitable word for what I wish to express. I mean here nothing more than human activity as resulting from private interests — special, or if you will, self-seeking designs — with this qualification, that the whole energy of will and char- acter is devoted to their attainment; that other interests (which would in themselves constitute attractive aims), or rather all things else, are sacrificed to them. The object in question is so bound up with the man's will, that it entirely and alone determines the "hue of resolution," and is insepa- rable from it. It has become the very essence of his voli- tion. For a person is a specific existence ; not man in general (a terpi to which no real existence corresponds), but a par- iiicular human being. The term "character" likewise ex- presses this idiosyncrasy of Will and Intelligence. But Character comprehends all peculiarities whatever; the way 70 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY in which a person eonducts himself in private relations, et< and is not limited to his idiosynerasy in its praetical ai active phase. I shall, therefore, nse the term "passion understanding thereby the prarlictdar bent of character, far as tiie pecuUarilies of volition are not limited to privs "interest, but supply the impelling and actuating force f accomplishing deeds shared in by the community at larg Passion is in the first instance the subjective, and thereto the formal side of energy, will, and activity — ^leaving t object or aim still undetermined. And there is a simil relation of formality to reality in m^ely individual convi tion, individual views, individual conscience. It is alwa a question of essential importance, what is the purport my conviction, what the object of my passion, in decidii whether the one or the other is of a true and substanti nature. Conversely, if it is so, it will inevitably atta actual existence — be realized. Prom this comment on the second essential element the historical embodiment of an aim, we infe r:— glancii at the institution of the State in passing — that a State isjthi ^^11 eoggtituted and internally powerful,, when the priya interest of its citizeiis is one with the common intere8tj)fjtl State; when the one finds its gratification and realization the other — a proposition in itself very important. But in State many iastitutions must be adopted, much politic machinery invented, accompanied by appropriate poll cal arrangements — necessitating long struggles of the unde standing before what is really appropriate can be discover — ^involving, moreover, contentions with private interest ai passions, and a tedious discipline of these latter, in order bring about the desired harmony. The epoch, when a Sta attains this harmonious condition, marks the period of i bloom, its virtue, its vigor, and its prosperity. But ti history of mankind does not begin with a conscious aim any kind, as it is the case with the particular circles in which men form themselves of set purpose. The mere soci instinct implies a conscious purpose of security for life ai INTRODUCTION 71 property ; and when society has been constituted, this pur- pose becomes more comprehensive. The History of the World begins with its general aim — the realization of the Idea of Spirit — only in an implicit form {an sick) that is, as Nature ; a hidden, most profoundly hidden, unconscious instinct; and the whole process of History (as already ob- served) is directed to rendering this unconscious impulse a conscious one. Thus appearing in the form of merely natural existence, natural will — that which has been called the subjective side — physical craving, instinct, passion, pri- vate interest, as also opinion and subjective conception — spontaneously present themselves at the very commencement. This vast congeries of volitions, interests and activities con- stitute the instruments and means of the World-Spirit for at- taining its object; bringing it to consciousness, and realizing it. And this aim is none other than finding itself — coming to itself— and contemplating itself in concrete actuality. But that those manifestations of vitality on the part of individ uals and peoples, in which they seek and satisfy their own purposes, are, at the same time, the means and instruments of a higher and broader purpose of which they know nothing — which they realize unconsciously — might be made a matter of question; rather has been questioned, and in every variety of form negatived, decried and contemned as mere dreaming and "Philosophy." But on this point I announced my view at the very outset, and asserted our hypothesis — which, how- ever, will appear in the sequel, in the form of a legitimate inference — and our belief, that Beason governs the world, i^ and has consequently governed its history . In relation to this independently universal and substantial existence — all else is subordinate, subservient to it, and the means for its development. — The Union of Universal Abstract Existence generally with the Individual — the Subjective — that this alone is Truth, belongs to the department of speculation, and is treated in this general form in Logic. — But in the process of the World's History itself — as still incomplete — the abstract final aim of history is not yet made the distinct J2 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY object of dssite and interest. While these limited senti* nents are BtiU nneonseious of the purpose they are faMl- ing, the universal principle is implicit in them, and is real- zing itself throagh them. The qnestioQ also assames the :orm of the uaioa of Freedom and Neceeeity; the latent ab- stract process of Spirit being regarded as Necessity, while ihat which exhibits itself in the conscious will of men, as heir interest, belongs to the domain of Freedom. As the netaphjsical connection (i.e. the connection in the Idea) of ihese forms of thought belongs to Logic, it would be out >f place to analyze it here. The chief and cardinal points miy shall be mentioned. Philosophy shows that the Idea advances to an infinite antithesis; that, viz., between the Idea in its free, universal ;orm — in which it exists for itself — and the contrasted form )f abstract introversion, reflection on i^elf, which is formal )xistence-for-self, personality, formal freedom, such as be- ongs to Spirit only. The universal Idea exists thus as the lubstantial totality of things on the one side, and as the ab- stract essence of free volition on the other side. This reflec- ;ion of the mind on itself is individual self -consciousness — ■ he polar opposite of the Idea in its general form, and there- :ore existing in absolute Limitation. This polar opposite is ionsequently limitation, particularization, for tbe universal ibsolute being; it is the side of its definite existence; the sphere of its formal reality, the sphere of the reverence paid 10 God. — To comprehend the absolute connection of the an- ithesis, is the profound tasJc of metaphysics. This Limita- lion originates all forms of particularity of whatever kind. The formal volition [of which we have spoken] wills itself; lesires to make its own personality valid in all that it pur- poses and does: even the pious individual wishes to be laved and happy. This pole of the antithesis, existing for tself, is — in contrast with the Absolute Universal Being — ■ I special separate existence, taking cognizance of speciality }nly, and willing that alone. In short it plays its part in he region of mere phenomena. This is the sphere of par- INTRODUCTION 73 tioular purposes, in effecting which individuals exert them- selves on behalf of their individuality — ^give it full play and objective realization. This is also the sphere of happiness and its opposite. He is happy who finds his condition suited to his special character, will, and fancy, and so enjoys him- self in that condition. The History of the World is not the theatre of happiness. Periods of happiness are blank pages in it, for they are periods of harmony — periods when the antithesis is in abeyance. Befiection on self — the Freedom above described — is abstractly defined as the formal element of the activity of the absolute Idea. The realizing atctivity of which we have spoken is the middle term of the Syllo- gism, one of whose extremes is the Universal essence, the Idea, which reposes in the penetralia of Spirit; and the other, the complex of external things — objective matter. That ac- tivity is the medium by which the universal latent principle is translated into the domain of objectivity. I will endeavor to make what has been said more vivid and clear by exanjples. The building of a house is, in the first instance, a subjec-/ tive aim and design. On the other hand we have, as means, the several substances required for the work — Iron, Wood,, Stones. The elements are made use of in working up thisi' material: fire to melt the iron, wind to blow the fire, water to set wheels in motion, in order to cut the wood, etc. The result is, that the wind, which has helped to build the house, is shut out by the house; so also are the violence of rains and -floods, and the destructive powers of fire, so far as the house is made fireproof. The stones and beams obey the law of gravity — press downward — and so high walls are car- ried up. Thus the elements are made use of in accordance with their nature, and yet to co-operate for a product, by which their operation is limited. Thus the passions of men are gratified; they develop themselves and their aims in accordance with their natural tendencies, and build up the edifice of human society; thus fortifying a position for Eight and Order against themselves. — Science — 4 74 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY The connection of events above indicated involves also the fact, that in history an additional result is commonly produced by human actions beyond that which they aim at and obtain — that which they immediately recognize and desire. They gratify their own interest; but something further is thereby accomplished, latent in the actions in question, though not present to their consciousness, and not included in their design. An analogous example is offered in the case of a man who, from a feeling of revenge — ^perhaps not an unjust one, but produced by injury on the other's part — burns that other man's house. A connection is immediately established between the deed itself and a train of circumstances not directly included in it, taken abstractedly. In itself it consisted in merely presenting a small flame to a small portion of a beam. Events not in- volved in that simple act follow of themselves. The part of the beam which was set fire to is connected with its remote portions; the beam itself is united with the woodwork of the house generally, and this with other hoijses ; so that a wide conflagration ensues, which destroys the goods and chattels of many other persons besides his against whom the act of revenge was first directed; perhaps even costs not a few men thejr lives. This lay neither in the deed abstractedly, Qor in the design of the man who committed it. But the action has a further general bearing. In the design of the doer it was only revenge executed against an individual in the destruction of his property, but it is moreover a crime, and that involves punishment also. This may not have been present to the mind of the perpetrator, still less in his intention ; but his deed itself, the general principles it calls into play, its substantial content entails it. By this example [ wish only to impress on you the consideration that in a simple act, something further may be implicated than lies in the intention and consciousness of the agent. 'The example before us involves, however, this additional consideration, that the substance of the act, consequently we may say the ict itself, recoils upon the perpetrator — reacts upon him with INTRODUCTION 75 destructive tendency. This union of the two extremes — ^the embodiment of a general idea in the form of direct reality, and the elevation of a speciality into connection with uni- versal truth — ^is brought to pass, at first sight, under the conditions of an utter diversity of nature between the two, and an indi£Eerence of the one extreme toward the other. The aims which the agents set before them are limited and special; but it must be remarked that the agents themselves are intelligent thinking beings. The purport of their desires is interwoven with general, essential considerations of justice, good, duty, etc. ; for mere desire — volition in its rough and savage forms — falls not within the scene and sphere of Uni- versal History. Those general considerations, which form at the same time a norm for directing aims and actions, have a determinate purport; for such an abstraction as "good for its own sake," has no place in living reality. If men are to act, they must not only intend the Good, but must have decided for themselves whether this or that particular thing is a Good. What special course of action, however, is good or not, is determined, as regards the ordinary contingencies of private life, by the laws and customs of a State; and here no great difficulty is presented. Each individual has his position; he knows on the whole what a just, honorable course of conduct is. As to ordinary, private relations, the assertion that it is difficult to choose the right and good — the regarding it as the mark of an exalted morality to find difficulties and raise scruples on that score — may be set down to an evil or perverse will, which seeks to evade duties not in themselves of a perplexing nature; or, at any rate, to an idly reflective habit of mind — where a feeble will affords no sufficient exercise to the faculties — leaving them therefore to find occupation within themselves, and to expend them- selves on moral self-adulation. It is quite otherwise with the comprehensive relations that History has to do with. In this sphere are presented those momentous collisions between existing, acknowledged duties, laws, and rights, and those contingencies which are re THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY id verse to this fixed system ; which assail and even destroy ts foundations and existence ; whose tenor may nevertheless ;eem good — on the large scale advantageous — ^yes, even ndispensable and necessary. These contingencies realize ihemselves in History: they involve a general principle of I different order from that on which depends the permanence )f a people or a State. This principle is an essential phase n the development of the creating Idea, of Truth, striving ind urging toward [consciousness of] itself. Historical men — World-Hisioricallndividuals — are those in whose aim such I, general principle lies. Caesar, in danger of losing a position, not perhaps at that ime of superiority, yet at least of equality with the others vho were at the head of the State, and of succumbing to hose who were just on the point of becoming his enemies —belongs essentially to this category. These enemies — who vers at the same time pursuing their personal aims — had the orm of the constitution, and the power conferred by an ap- )earance of justice, on their side. Caesar was contending or the maintenance of his position, honor, and safety; and, ince the power of his opponents included the sovereignty )ver the provinces of the Eoman Empire, his victory secured or him the conquest of that entire Empire; and he thiis be- same (though leaving the form of the constitution) the Auto- irat of the State. That which secured for him the execution >f a design, which in the first instance was of negative import —the Autocracy of Rome — was, however, at the same time an n(Jependently necessary feature in the history of Eome and )f the world. It was not then his private gain merely, but an mconscious impulse that occasioned the accomplishment of hat for which the time was ripe. Such are all great historical nen — whose own particular aims involve those large issues ifhich are the will of the World-Spirit. They may be called leroes, in asmuch as they have derived th eir purposes and heir vocation , notTrom the calm, regular course of things, lanctioned by the existing orderf~Burfroin' a concealed fount —one which hasnot attained to phenomenal, present exist- INTRODUCTION 77 enee — ^from thai inner _??pirit., RtiH T^irlflflii twnAatti the, nnr. face, wh ich, imBU lSin g »"- tl> n nn tani-jBQiild-an on n ahp.H^ bursts it in pieces, becaase i t_i'^ annthfir kernftl tTian that whicti belonged to t he shell in qaesti on. They are men, t"fferefore, ~wFo appear to draw the impolse of their life from themselves; and whose deeds hare produced a condition of things and a complex of historical relations which appear to be only ^ir interest, and their work. Such individuals had no consciousness of the general Idea they were unfolding, while prosecuting those aims of tbeirs; on the contrary, they were practical, political men. Bat at the same time they were thinking men, who had an insight into the requirements of the time — what was ripe for development. This was the very Truth for their age, for their world; the species next in order, so to speak, and which was already formed in the womb of time. It was theirs to know this nascent principle; the necessary, directly se- quent step in progress, which their world was to take; to make this their aim, and to expend their energy in pro- moting it. World-historical men — the Heroes of an epoch — ^must, therefore, be recognized as its clear-sighted ones; thdr deeds, their words are the best of that time. Great men have formed purposes to satisfy themselves, not others. Whatever prudent designs and counsels they might have learned from others, would be the more limited and incon- sistent features in their career; for it was they who best understood affairs; from whom others learned, and approved, or at least acquiesced in — their policy. For that Spirit which had taken this fresh step in history is the inmost soul of all individuals ; but in a state of unconsciousness which the great men in question aroused. Their fellows, there- fore, follow these soul-leaders; for they feel the irresistible power of their own inner Spirit thus embodied. If we go on to cast a look at the fate of these World-Historical per- sons, whose vocation it was to be the agents of the World- Spirit — we shall find it to have been no happy one. They attained no calm enjoyment; their whole life was labor and 78 THE PBILOSQPHY OF HISTORY trouble; their whole nature was naught else but their master- passion. When their object is attained they fall off like empty hulls from the kernel. They die early, like Alex- ander; they are murdered, like Osesar; transported to St. Helena, like Napoleon. This fearful consolation — that his- torical men have not enjoyed what is called happiness, and of which only private life (and this may be passed under very various external circumstances) is capable — this conso- lation those may draw from history, who stand in need of it; and it is craved by Envy — vexed at what is great and transcendent— striving, therefore, to depreciate it, and to find some flaw in it. Thus in modern times it has been dem- onstrated ad nauseam that princes are generally unhappy on their thrones; in consideration of which the possession of a throne is tolerated, and men acquiesce in the fact that not themselves but the personages in question are its occupants. The Free Man, we may observe, is not envious, but gladly recognizes what is great and exalted, and rejoices that it exists. It is in the light of those common elements which con- stitute the interest and therefore the passions of individuals, that these historical men are to be regarded. They are great men, because they willed and accomplished something great; not a mere fancy, a mere intention, but .that which met the case and fell in with the needs of the age. This mode of considering them also excludes the so-called "psychological" view, which — serving the purpose of envy most effectually — contrives so to refer all actions to the heart — to bring them under such a subjective aspect — as that their authors appear to have done everything under the impulse of some passion, mean or grand — some morbid craving — and on account of these passions and cravings to have been not moral men. Alexander of Macedon partly subdued Greece, and then Asia; therefore he was possessed by a morbid craving for conquest. He is alleged to have acted from a craving for fame, for conquest; and the proof that these were the impelling motives is that he did that which resulted in INTRODUCTION 79 fame. What pedagogue has not demonstrated of Alexander the Great — of Julias Csesar — that they were instigated by such passions, and were consequently immoral men ? — whence the conclusion immediately follows that he, the pedagogue, is a better man than they, because he has not such passions ; a proof of which lies in the fact that he does not conquer Asia — vanquish Darius and Porus — but while he enjoys life himself, lets others enjoy it too. These psychologists are particularly fond of contemplating those peculiarities of great historical figures which appertain to them as private persons. Man must eat and drink; he sus- tains relations to friends and acquaintances; he has passing impulses and ebullitions of temper. "No man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre, " is a well-known proverb; I have added — and Goethe repeated it ten years later — "but not because the former is no hero, but because the latter is a valet." He takes off the hero's boots, assists him to bed, knows that be prefers champagne, etc. Historical person- ages waited upon in historical literature by such psycho- logical valets, come poorly off; they are brought down by these their attendants to a level with — or rather a few degrees below the level of — the morality of such exquisite discerners of spirits. The Thersites of Homer who abuses the kings is a standing figure for all times. Blows — that is, beating with a solid cudgel — he does not get in every age, as in the Homeric one; but his envy, his egotism, is the thorn which he has to carry in his flesh; and the undying worm that gnaws him is the tormenting consideration that his excellent views and vituperations remain absolutely without result in the world. But our satisfaction at the fate of Thersitism also, may have its sinister side. A World-historical individual is not so unwise as to in- dulge a variety of wishes to divide his regards. He is ^ devoted to the One Aim, regardless of all else. It is even • possible that such men may treat other great, even sacred interests, inconsiderately; conduct which is indeed obnox- ious to moral reprehension. But so mighty a form must 80 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY trample down many an innocent flower — crush to pieces many an object in its path. The special interest of passion is thus inseparable from the active development of a general principle: for it is from the special and determinate and from its negation that the Universal results. Particularity contends with its Uke, and some loss is involved in the issue. It ]a not the general idea that is implicated in opposition and combat, and that is ex- posed to danger. It remains in the background, untouched and uninjured. This may be called the cunning of reason — that it sets the passions to work for itself, while that which develops its existence through such impulsion pays the penalty, and suffers loss. For it is phenomenal being that is so treated, and of this, part is of no value, part is positive and real. The particular is for the most part of too trifling value as compared with the general: individuals are sacri- ficed and abandoned. The Idea payj the penalty of deter- minate existence and of corruptibility, not from itself, but from the passions of individuals. But though we might tolerate the idea that individuals, their desires and the gratification of them, are thus sacrificed, and their happiness given up to the empire of chance, to which it belongs; and that, as a general rule, individuals come under the category of means to an ulterior end — there is one aspect of human individuality which we should hesi- tate to regard in that subordinate Ught, even in relation to the highest; since it is absolutely no subordinate elementi but exists in those individuals as inherently eternal and divine. I mean morality, ethics, religion. Even when speak- ing of the realization of the great ideal aim by means of indi- viduals, the subjective element in them — their inter^t and that of their cravings and impulses, their views and judg- ments, though exhibited as the merely formal side of their existence — was spoken of as having an infinite right to be consulted. The first idea that presents itself in speaking of means is that of something external to the object, aud having no share in the object itself. But merely natural INTRODUCTION 81 things — even the commonest lifeless objects- -used as means, must be of such a kind as adapts them to their purpose; they must possess something in common with it. Human beings least of all sustain the bare external relation of mere means to the great ideal aim. Not only do they, in the very act of realizing it, make it the occasion of satisfying personal desires, whose purport is diverse from that aim — but they share in that ideal aim itself ; and are for that very reason objects of their own existence; not formally merely as the world of living beings generally is — whose individual life is essentially subordinate to that of man, and is properly used up as an instrument. Men, on the contrary, are objects of existence to themselves, as regards the intrinsic import of the aim in question. To this order belongs that in them which we would exclude from the category of mere means — Morality, Ethics, Religion. That is to say, man is an object of existence in himself only in virtue of the Divine that is in him^ — ^that which was designated at the oatset as Reason; which, in view of its activity and power of self-determina- tion, was called Freedom. And we affirm — without entering at present on the proof of the assertion — that Religion, Morality, etc., have their foundation and source in that principle, and so are essentially elevated above all alien necessity and chance. And here we must remark that indi- viduals, to the extent of their freedom, are responsible for the depravation and enfeeblement of morals and religion. This is the seal of the absolute and sublime destiny of man — that he knows what is good and what is evil ; that his Destiny is his very ability to will either good or evil — in one word, that he is the subject of moral imputation, impu- tation not only of evil, but of good ; and not only concerning this or that particular matter, and all that happens ab extrd, but also the good and evil attaching to his individual free- dom. The brute alone is simply innocent. It would, how- ever, demand an extensive explanation — as extensive as the analysis of moral freedom itself — to preclude or obviate all the misunderstandings which the statement that what is 82 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY called innocence imports the entire unconsciousness of evil — is wont to occasion. In contemplating the fate which virtue, morality, even piety experience in history, we must not fall into the Litany of Lamentations, that the good and pious often — or for the most part — fare ill in the world, while the evil-disposed and wicked prosper. The term prosperity is used in a variety of meanings — riches, outward honor, and the like. But in speaking of something which in and for itself constitutes an aim of existence, that so-called well or ill-faring of these or those isolated individuals cannot be regarded as an es- sential element in the rational order of the universe. With more justice than happiness — or a fortunate environment for individuals — it is demanded of the grand aim of the world's existence, that it should foster, nay involve the execution and ratification of good, moral, righteous purposes. What makes men morally discontented (a discontent, by the by, on which they somewhat pride themselves), is that they do not find th^ present adapted to the realization of aims which they hold to be right and just (more especially in modern times, ideals of political constitations); they contrast un- favorably things as they are, with their idea of things as they ought to be. In this case it is not private interest nor passion that desires gratification, but Eeason, Justice, Liberty; and equipped with this title, the demand in ques- tion assumes a lofty bearing, and readily adopts a position not merely of discontent, but of open revolt against the actual condition of the world. To estimate such a feeling and such views aright, the demands insisted upon, and the very dogmatic opinions asserted, must be examined. At no time so much as in our own, have such general principles and notions been advanced, or with greater assurance. If in j days gone by, history seems to present itself as a struggle of passions ; in our time — though displays of passion are not wanting — it exhibits partly a predominance of the struggle of notions assuming the authority of principles; partly that of passions and interests essentially subjective, but under INTRODUCTION 83 the mask of such higher sanctions. The pretensions thus contended for as legitimate in the name of that which has been stated as the ultimate aim of Beason, pass accordingly, for absolute aims — to the. same extent as Religion, Morals, Ethics. Nothing, as before remarked, is now more common than the complaint that the ideals which imagination sets up are not realized — that these glorious dreams are destroyed by cold actuality. These Ideals — which in the voyage of life founder on the rocks of hard reality — may be in the first instance only subjective, and belong to the idiosyncrasy of the individual, imagining himself the highest and wisest. Such do not properly belong to this category. For the fancies which the individual in his isolation indulges, cannot be the model for universal reality; just as universal law is not designed for the units of the mass. These as such may, in fact, find their interests decidedly thrust into the back- ground. But by the term "Ideal," we also understand the ideal of Reason, of the Good, of the True. Poets, as e.g. Schiller, have painted such ideals touchingly and with strong emotion, and with the deeply melancholy conviction that they could not be realized. In affirming, on the con- trary, that the Universal Reason does realize itself, we have indeed nothing to do with the individual empirically re- garded. That admits of degrees of better and worse, since here' chance and speciality have received authority from the Idea to exercise their monstrous power. Much, therefore, . in particular aspects of the grand phenomenon might be found fault with. This subjective fault-finding — which, however, only keeps in view the individual and its defi- ciency, without taking notice of Reason pervading the whole — ^is easy; and inasmuch as it asserts an excellent intention with regard to the good of the whole, and seems to result from a kindly heart, it feels authorized to give itself airs and assume great consequence. It is easier to discover a i deficiency in individuals, in states, and in Providence, ih&M | j to see their real import and value. For in this merely nega- f tive fault-finding a proud position is taken — one which over- 84 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY looks the object, without having entered into it — without having comprehended its positive aspect. Age generally makes men more tolerant; youth is always discontented. The tolerance of age is the result of the ripeness of a judg- ment which, not merely as the result of indifference, is satisfied even with what is inferior; but, more deeply taught by the grave experience of life, has been led to perceive ^the substantial, solid worth of the object in question. The insight then to which — in contradistinction from those ideals — philosophy is to lead us, is, that the real world is as it ought to be — that the truly good — the universal divine reason — is hot a mere abstraction, but a vital principle capable of realizing itself. This Oood, this Season, in its most concrete form, is God. God governs the world; the actual working of his government — the carrying out of his plan — is the History of the World. This plan philosophy strives to comprehend; for only that which has been devel- oped as the result of it, possesses bond fide reality. That which does not accord with it, is negative, worthless exist- ence. Before the pure light of this divine Idea — which is no mere Ideal — the phantom of a world whose events are an incoherent concourse of fortuitous circumstances, utterly vanishes. Philosophy wishes to discover the substantial purport, the real side of the divine idea, and to justify the so much despised Reality of things; for Reason is the com- prehension of the Divine work. But as to what concerns the perversion, corruption, and ruin of religious, ethical and moral purposes, and states of society generally, it must be afl&rmed, that in their essence these are infinite and eternal; but that the forms they assume may be of a limited order, and consequently belong to the domain of mere nature, and be subject to the sway of chance. They are therefore perishable, and exposed to decay and corruption. Religion and morality — in the same way as inherently universal es- sences — have the peculiarity of being present in the indi- vidual soul, in the full extent of their Idea, and therefore truly and really; although they may not manifest them- INTRODUCTION 85 selves in it in extenso, and are not applied to fully developed relations. The religion, the morality of a limited sphere of life — ^that of a shepherd or a peasant, e.g. — in its intensive concentration and limitation to a few perfectly simple rela- tions of life — has infinite worth; the same worth as the religion and morality of extensive knowledge, and of an existence rich in the compass of its relations and actions. This inner focus — this simple region of the claims of subjec- tive freedom — ^the home of volition, resolution, and action. — the abstract sphere of conscience — that which comprises the responsibility and moral value of the individual, remains untouched; and is quite shut out from the noisy din of the World's History — including not merely external and tem- poral changes, but also those entailed by the absolute neces- sity inseparable from the realization of the Idea of Freedom itself. But as a general truth this must be regarded as set- tled, that whatever in the world possesses claims as noble and glorious, has nevertheless a higher existence above it. The claim of the World-Spirit rises above all special claims. These observations may suflB.ce in reference to the means which the World-Spirit uses for realizing its Idea. Stated simply and abstractly, this mediation involves the activity of personal existences in whom Eeason is present as their absolute, substantial being; but a basis, in the first instance, still obscure and unknown to them. But the subject be- comes more complicated and difficult when we regard indi- viduals not merely in their aspect of activity, but more concretely, in conjunction with a particular manifestation of that activity in their religion and morality — ^forms of existence which are intimately connected with Eeason, and share in its absolute claims. Here the relation of mere means to an end disappears, and the chief bearings of this seeming difficulty, in reference to the absolute aim of Spirit, have been briefly considered. (3.) The third point to be analyzed is, therefore — ^what is the object to be realized by these means; i.e. what is the form it assumes in the realm of reality. We have spoken of 86 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY means; but in the carrying out of a subjective, limited aim, we have also to take into consideration the element of a material, either already present or which has to be procured. Thus the question would arise: What is the material in which the Ideal of Reason is wrought out? The primary answer would be — Personality itself — human desires — Sub- jectivity generally. In human knowledge and volition, as its material element. Reason attains positive existence. We have considered subjective volition where it has an object which is the truth and essence of a reality; viz. where it constitutes a great world-historical passion. As a subjective will, occupied with limited passions, it is dependent, and can gratify its desires only "within the limits of this depen- dence. But the subjective will has also a substantial life — a reality — in which it moves in the region of essential being, and has the essential itself as the object of its existence. This essential being is the union of the subjective with the rational Will: it is the moral Whole, the State, which is that form of reality in which the individual "has and enjoys his freedom; but on the condition of his recognizing, believing in and willing that which is common to the Whole. And this must not be understood as if the subjective will of the social unit attained its gratification and enjoyment through that common Will ; as if this were a means provided for its benefit; as if the individual, in his relations to other indi- viduals, thus limited his freedom, in order that this universal limitation — the mutual constraint of all — might secure a small space of liberty for each. Rather, we affirm, are Law, Morality, Government, and they alone, the positive reality and completion of Freedom. Freedom of a low and limited order is mere caprice, which finds its exercise in the sphere of particular and limited desires. Subjective volition — Passion — is that which sets men in activity, that, which eifects "practical" realization. The Idea is the inner spring of action ; the State is the actually existing, realized moral life. For it is the Unity of the uni- versal, essential Will, with that of the individual; and this INTRODUCTION 87 is "Morality." The Individual living in this unity has a moral life; possesses a value that consists in this substanti- ality alone. Sophocles in his Antigone, says, "The divine commands are not of yesterday, nor of to-day; no, they have an infinite existence, and no one could say whence they came. ' ' The laws of morality are not accidental, but are the essentially Rational. It is the very object of the State that what is essential in the practical activity of men, and in their dispositions, should be duly recognized ; •that it should have a manifest existence, and maintain its position. It is the absolute interest of Reason that this moral "Whole should exist: and herein lies the justification and merit of heroes who have founded states — however rude these may have been. In the history of the World, only those peoples can come under our notice which form a state. For it must be understood that this latter is the realization of Freedom, i.e. of the absolute final aim, and that it exists for its own sake. It must further be understood that all- the worth which the human being possesses — all spiritual reality, he possesses only through the State. For his spiritual reality consists in this, that his own essence — Reason — is objec- tively present to him, that it possesses objective immediate existence for him. Thus only is he fully conscious; thus only is he a partaker of morality — of a just and moral social and political life. For Truth is the Unity of the universal and subjective Will; and the Universal is to be found in the State, in its laws, its universal and rational arrangements. The State is the Divine Idea as it exists on Earth. We have in it, therefore, the object of History in a more definite shape than before; that "in which Freedom obtains objec- tivity, and lives in the enjoyment of this objectivity. For Law is the objectivity of Spirit; volition in its true form. Only that will which obeys law, is free; for it obeys itself— it is independent and so free. When the State or our coun- try constitutes a community of existence; when the subjec- tive will of man submits to laws — the contradiction between Liberty and Necessity vanishes. The Rational has necessary 88 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY existence, as being the reality and substance of things, and we are free in recognizing it as- law, and following it as the substance of our own being. The objective and the subjec- tive will are then reconciled, and present one identical ho- mogeneous whole. For the morality (Sittlichkeit) of the State is not of that ethical (moralische) reflective kind, in which one's own conviction bears sway; this latter is rather the peculiarity of the modern time, while the true antique morality is based on the principle of abiding by one's duty [to the state at large]. An Athenian citizen did what was required of him, as it were from instinct: but if I reflect on the object of my activity, I must have the consciousness that my will has been called into exercise. But morality is Duty — substantial Right — a '^second nature" as it has been justly called; for the first nature of man is his primary merely animal existence. The development in extenso of the Idea of the State belongs to the Philosophy of Jurisprudence; but it must be observed that in the theories of our time various errors are current respecting it, which pass for established truths, and have become fixed prejudices. We will mention only a few of them, giving prominence to such as have a reference to the object of our history. The error which first meets us is the direct contradictory of our principle that the state presents the realization of Freedom; the opinion, viz. that man is free by nature, but that in society, in the State— to which nevertheless he is irre- sistibly impelled — he must limit this natural freedom. That man is free by Nature is quite correct in one sense; viz. that he is so according to the Idea of Humanity; but we imply thereby that he is such only in virtue of his destiny — that he has an undeveloped power to become such; for the "Nature" of an object is exactly synonymous with its "Idea." But the view in question imports more than this. When man is spoken of as "free by Nature," the mode of his existence as well as his destiny is implied. His merely natural and primary condition is intended. In this sense a INTRODUCTION 89 "state of Nature" is assumed in wMch mankind at large are in the possession of their natural rights with the uncon- strained exercise and enjoyment of their freedom. This assumption is not indeed raised to the dignity of the his- torical fact; it would indeed be difficult, were the attempt seriously made, to point out any such condition as actually existing, or as having ever occurred. Examples of a savage state of life can be pointed out, but they are marked by brutal passions and deeds of violence; while, however rude and simple their conditions, they involve social arrangements which (to use the common phrase) restrain freedom. That assumption is one of those nebulous images which theory produces; an idea which it cannot avoid originating, but which it fathers upon real existence, without sufficient historical justification. What we find such a state of Nature to be in actual experience, answers exactly to the Idea of a merely natural condition. Freedom as the ideal of that which is original and natural, does not exist as original and natural. Bather must it be first sought out and won; and that by an incalcu- lable medial discipline of the intellectual and moral powers. The state of Nature is, therefore, predominantly that of in- justice and violence, of untamed natural impulses, of inhu- man deeds and feelings. Limitation is certainly produced by Society and the State, but it is a limitation of the mere brute emotions and rude instincts; as also, in a more ad- vanced stage of culture, of the premeditated self-wiU of caprice and passion. This kind of constraint is part of the, instrumentality by which only the consciousness of Free- dom and the desire for its attainment, in its true — that is Bational and Ideal — form can be obtained. To the Ideal of Freedom, Law and Morality are indispensably requisite ; and they are in and for themselves, universal existences, objects and aims; which are discovered only by the activity of thought, separating itself from the merely sensuous, and developiog itself, in opposition thereto; and which must, on the other hand, be introduced into and incorporated with the 90 THE PHILOSOPHY OP HISTORY originally sensuous will, and that oontrarily to its natural inclination. The perpetually recurring misapprehension of Freedom consists in regarding that term only in its formal, subjective sense, abstracted from its essential objects and aims; thus a constraint put upon impulse, desire, passion — pertaining to the particular individual as such — a limitation of caprice and self-will is regarded as a fettering of Freedom. We should on the contrary look upon such limitation as the indispensable proviso of emancipation. Society and the State are the very conditions in which Freedom is realized. We must notice a second view, contravening the princi- ple of the development of moral relations into a legal form. The patriarchal condition is regarded^-either in reference to the entire race of man, or to some branches of it — as exclu- sively that condition of things, in which the legal element is combined with a due recognition of the moral and emotional parts of our nature; and in which justice, as united with these, truly and really influences the intercourse of the so- cial units. The basis of the patriarchal condition is the family relation; which develops the primary form of con- scious morality, succeeded by that of the State as its second phase. The patriarchal condition is one of transition, in which the family has already advanced to the position of a race or people; where the union, therefore, has already ceased to be simply a bond of love and confidence, and has become one of plighted service. We must first examine the ethical principle of the Family, The Family may be reck- oned as virtually a single person; since its members have either mutually surrendered their individual personality (and consequently their legal position toward each other, with the rest of their particular interests and desires), as in the case of the Parents ; or have not yet attained such an independent personalityr— (the Children — who are primarily in that merely natural condition already mentioned). They live, therefore, in a unity of feeling, love, confidence, and faith in each other. And in a relation of mutual love, the one individual has the consciousness of himself in the con INTRODUCTION 91 sciousnesa of the other; he lives out of self; and in this mutual self-renunciation each regains the life that had been virtually transferred to the other; gains, in fact, that other's existence and his own, as involved with that other. The further interests connected with the necessities and external concerns of life, as well as the development that has to take place within their circle, i.e. of the children, constitute a common object for the members of the Family. The Spirit of the Family — the Penates — -form one substantial being, as much as the Spirit of a People in the State; and morality in both cases consists in a feeling, a consciousness, and a will, not limited to individual personality and interest, but em- bracing the common interests of the members generally. But this unity is in the case of the Family essentially one oi feeling ; not advancing beyond the limits of the merely natural. The piety of the Family relation should be re- spected in the highest degree by the State; by its means the State obtains as its members individuals who are already moral (for as mere persons they are not), and who in uniting to form a state bring with them that sound basis of a politi- cal edifice — the capacity of feeling one with a Whole. But the expansion of the Family to a patriarchal unity carries us beyond the ties pf blood -relationship — the simj)ly natural elements of that basis ; and outside of these limits the mem- bers of the community must enter upon the position of inde- pendent personality. A review of the patriarchal condition, in extenso, would lead us to give special attention to the Theocratical Constitution. The head of the patriarchal clan is also its priest. If the Family in its general relations is not yet separated from civic society and the state, the sepa- ration of religion from it has also not yet taken place; and so much the less since the piety of the hearth is itself a profoundly subjective state of feeling. We have considered two aspects of Freedom — ^the objec- tive and the subjective; if, therefore. Freedom is asserted to consist in the individuals of a State all agreeing in its arrangements, it is evident that only the subjective aspect is yi5 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY regarded. The natural inference from this principle is, that no law can be valid without the approval of all. This diffi- culty is attempted to be obviated by the decision that the minority must yield to the majority; the majority therefore bear the sway. But long ago J. J. Boasseau remarked, that in that case there would be no longer freedom, for the will of the minority would cease to be respected. At the Polish Diet each single member had to give his consent before any political step could be taken; and this kind of freedom it was that ruined the State. Besides, it is a dangerous and false prejudice, that the People alone have reason and in- sight, and know what justice is; for each popular faction may represent itself as the People, and the question as to what constitutes the State is one of advanced science, and not of popular decision. If the principle of regard for the individual will is recog- nized as the only basis of political liberty, viz. that nothing should be done by or for the State to which all the members of the body politic have not given their sanction, we have, properly speaking, no Constitution. The only arrangement that would be necessary, would be, first, a centre having no will of its own, but which should take into consideration what appeared to be the necessities of ,the State; and, sec- ondly, a contrivance for calling the members of the State together, for taking the votes, and for performing the arith- metical operations of reckoning and comparing the number of votes for the different propositions, and thereby deciding upon them. The State is an abstraction, having even its generic existence in its citizens; but it is an actuality, and its simply generic existence must embody itself in individ- ual will and activity. The want of government and political administration in general is felt; this necessitates the selec- tion and separation from the rest of those who have to take the helm in political affairs, to decide concerning them, and to give orders to other citizens, with a view to the execution of their plans. If e.g. even the people in a Democracy re- solve on a war, a general must head the army. It is only INTRODUCTION 93 by a Constitution that the abstraction — the State — attains life and reality ; but this involves the distinction between those who command and those who obey. — Yet obedience seems inconsistent with liberty, and those who command appear to do the very opposite of that which the fundamental idea of the State, viz. that of Freedom, requires. It is, however, urged that — though the distinction between commanding and obeying is absolutely necessary, because affairs could not go on without it — and indeed this seems only a compulsory lim- itation, external to and even contravening freedom in the abstract — the constitution should be at least so framed that the citizens may obey as little as possible, and the smallest modicum of free volition be left to the commands of the su- periors ; — that the substance of that for which subordination is necessary, even in its most important bearings, should be decided and resolved on by the People — by the will of many or of all the citizens; though it is supposed to be thereby provided that the State should be possessed of vigor and strength as a reality — an individual unity. — The primary consideration is, then, the distinction between the governing and the governed, and political constitutions in the abstract have been rightly divided into Monarchy, Aristocracy, and Democracy; which gives occasion, however, to the remark that Monarchy itself must be further divided into Despotism and Monarchy proper; that in all the divisions to which the leading Idea gives rise, only the generic character is to be made prominent — it being not intended thereby that the particular category under review should be exhausted as a Form, Order, or Kind, in its concrete development. But especially it must be observed, that the above-mentioned divisions admit of a multitude of particular modifications — not only such as lie within the limits of those classes them- selves — but also such as are mixtures of several of these essentially distinct classes, and which are consequently mis- shapen, unstable, and inconsistent forms. In such a colli- sion, the concerning question is, what is the best constitution ; that is, by what arrangement, organization, or mechanism of 94 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY the power of the State its object can be most surely attained. This object may indeed be variously understood; for in- stance, as the calm enjoyment of life on the part of the citi- zens, or as Universal Happiness. Such aims have suggested the so-called Ideals of Constitutions, and — as a particular branch of the subject — Ideals of the Education of Princes (Fenelon), or of the governing body — ^the aristocracy at large (Plato) ; for the chief point they treat of is the condition of those subjects who stand at the head of affairs; and in these Ideals the concrete details of political organization are not at all considered. The inquiry into the best constitution is frequently treated as if not only the theory were an affair of subjective independent conviction, but as if the introduction of a constitution recognized as the best — or as superior to others — could be the result of a resolve adopted in this theo- retical manner; as if the form of a constitution were a matter of free choice, determined by nothing' else but reflection. Of this artless fashion was that deliberation — not indeed of the Persian people, but of the Persian grandees, who had con- spired to overthrow the pseudo-Smerdis and the Magi, after their undertaking had succeeded, and when there was no scion of the royal family living — as to what constitution they should introduce into Persia; and Herodotus gives an equally naive account of this deliberation. In the present day, the Constitution of a country and people is not represented as so entirely dependent on free and deliberate choice. The fundamental but abstractly (and therefore imperfectly) entertained conception of Freedom, has resulted in the Eepublic being very generally regarded — in theory — as the only just and true political constitution. Many even, who occupy elevated official positions under monarchical constitutions — so far from being opposed to this idea — are actually its supporters ; only they see that such a constitution, though the best, cannot be realized under all circumstances; and that — while men are what they are — we must be satisfied with less freedom; the monarchical con- stitution — under the given circumstances, and the present INTRODUCTION > 95 moral condition of the people — ^being even regarded as the most advantageous. In this view also, the necessity of a particular constitution is made to depend on the condition of the people in such a way as if the latter were non-essen- tial and accidental. This representation is founded on the distinction which the reflective understanding makes be- tween an idea and the corresponding reality; holding to an abstract and consequently untrue idea; not' grasping it in its completeness, or — ^which is virtually, though not in point of form, the same — not taking a concrete view of a people and a state. We shall have to show further on, that the constitution adopted by a people makes one substance — one spirit — with its religion, its art and philosophy, or, at least, with its conceptions and thoughts — its culture gen- erally; not to expatiate upon the additional influences, ah &Ktrd, of climate, of neighbors, of its place in the World. A State is an individual totality, of which you cannot select any particular - side, although a supremely important one, such as its political constitution; and deliberate and decide respecting it in that isolated form. Not only is that constitu- tion most intimately connected with and dependent on those other spiritual forces; but the form of the entire moral and intellectual individuality — comprising all the forces it em- bodies — ^is only a step in the development of the grand Whole — with its place preappointed in the process; a fact which gives the highest sanction to the constitution in ques- tion, and establishes its absolute necessity. — The origin of a state involves imperious lordship on the one hand, instinc- tive submission on the other. But even obedience— lordly power, and the fear inspired by a ruler — ^in itself implies some degree of voluntary connection. Even in barbarous states this is the case; it is not the isolated will of individ- uals that prevails; individual pretensions are relinquished, and the general will is the essential bond of political union. This unity of the general and the particular is the Idea it- self, manifesting itself as a state, and which subsequently undergoes further development within itself. The abstract 96 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY yet necessitated process in the development of truly inde- pendent states is as follows: — They begin with regal power, whether of patriarchal or military origin. In the next phase, particularity and individuality assert themselves in the form of Aristocracy and Democracy. Lastly, we have the subjec- tion of these separate interests to a single power; but which can be absolutely none other than one outside of which those spheres have an independent position, viz. the Monarchical. Two phases of royalty, therefore, must be distinguished — a primary and a secondary one. This process is necessitated, so that the form of government assigned to a particular stage of development must present itself: it is therefore no mat- ter of choice, but is that form which is adapted to the spirit of the people. In a Constitution the main feature of interest is the self- development of the rational, that is, the political condition of a people; the setting free of the successive elements of the Idea: so that the several powers in the State manifest themselves as separate — attain their appropriate and special perfection — and yet in this independent condition, work to- gether for one object, and are held together by it — i.e. form an organic whole. The State is thus the embodiment of ra- tional freedom, realizing and recognizing itself in an objec- tive form. For its objectivity consists in this — ^that its suc- cessive stages are not merely ideal, but are present in an appropriate reality; and that, in their separate and several working, they are absolutely merged in that agency by which the totality — the soul — the individuate unity — ^is pro- duced, and of which it is the result, The State is the idea of Spirit in the external manifesta- tion of human Will and its Freedom. It is to the State, therefore, that change in the aspect of History indissolubly attaches itself ; and the successive phases of the Idea mani- fest themselves in it as distinct political principles. The Constitutions under which World-Historical peoples have reached their culmination are peculiar to them; and there- fore do not present a generally applicable political basis. INTRODUCTION WJ Were it othervrise, the difierences of similar constitutions would consist only in a peculiar method of expanding and developing that generic basis; whereas they really originate in diversity of principle. From the comparison therefore of the political institutions of the ancient World-Historical peoples, it so happems that for the most recent principle of a Constitution — for the principle of our own times — ^nothing (so to speak) can be learned. In science and art it is quite otherwise; e.g. the ancient philosophy is so decidedly the basis of the modern, that it is inevitably contained in the latter, and constitutes its basis. In this case the rela- tion is that of a continuous development of the same struc- ture, whose foundation-stone, walls, and roof have remained what they were. In Art, the Greek itself, in its original form, furnishes us the best models. But in regard to politi- cal constitution, it is quite otherwise: here the Ancient and the Modern have not their essential principle in common. Abstract definitions and dogmas respecting just govern- ment — importing that intelligence and virtue ought to bear sway — are, indeed, common to both. But nothing is so absurd as to look to Greeks, Eomans, or Orientals, for models for the political arrangements of our time. From the East may be derived beautiful pictures of a patriarchal condition, of paternal government, and of devotion to it on the part of peoples; from Greeks and Romans, descriptions of popular liberty. Among the latter we find the idea of a Free Con- stitution admitting all the citizens to a share in deliberations and resolves respecting the affairs and laws of the Common- wealth. In our times, too, this is its general acceptation; only with this modification, that — since our states are so large, and there are so many of "the Many," the latter — direct action being impossible — should by the indirect method of elective substitution express their concurrence with re- solves affecting the common weal; that is, that for^legisla- tive purposes generally, the people should be represented by deputies. The so-called Representative Constitutaon is that form of government with which we connect the idea of a free —Science — 5 98 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY constitution; and this notion has become a rooted prejudice. On this theory People and Government are separated. But there is a perversity in this antithesis ; an ill-intentioned rust designed to insinuate that the People are the totality of the State. Besides, the basis of this view is the principle of isolated individuality — the absolute validity of the sub- jective will — a dogma which we have already investigated. The great point is, that Freedom in its Ideal conception has not subjective will and caprice for its principle, but the recognition of the universal will; and that the process by which Freedom is realized is the free development of its successive stages. The subjective will is a merely formal determination — a carte blanche — not including what it is that 'is willed. Only the rational will is that universal principle which independently determines and unfolds its own being, and develops its successive elemental phases as organic members. Of this Gothic-cathedral architecture the ancients knew nothing. At an earlier stage of the discussion we established the two elemental considerations: first, the idea of freedom as the absolute and final aim ; secondly, the means for realizing it, i.e. the subjective side of knowledge and will, with its life, movement, and activity. We then recognized the Stete as the moral Whole and the Eeality of Freedom, and conse- quently as the objective unity of these two elements. For although we make this distinction into two aspects for our consideration, it must be remarked that they are intimately connected ; and that their connection is involved in the idea of each when examined separately. We have, on the one hand, recognized the Idea in the definite form of Freedom conscious of and willing itself — having itself alone as its object: involving, at the same time, the pure and simple Idea of Eeason, and likewise, that which we have called subject-=-sel£-consciousness — Spirit actually existing in the World. If, on the other hand, we consider Subjectivity, we find that subjective knowledge and will is Thought. But by the very act of thoughtful cognition and volition, I will INTRODUCTION 99 the universal object — the substance of absolute Reason. We observe, therefore, an essential union between the ob- jective side — ^the Idea — and the subjective side — the person- ality that conceives and wills it. — The objective existence of this union is the State, which is therefore the basis and centre of the other concrete elements of the life of a people — of Art, of Law, of Morals, of Religion, of Science. All the activity of Spirit has only this object— the becoming con- / scious of this union, i.e. of its own Freedom. Among the forms of this conscious union Beligion occupies the . highest position. In it. Spirit — rising above the limitations \ of temporal and secular existence — becomes conscious of the Absolute Spirit, and in this consciousness of the self- existeiiT Being, renounces its individual interest; it lays this aside in Devotion — a state of mind in which it refuses to occupy itself any longer with the limited and particular. By Sacrifice man expresses his renunciation of his property, his will, his individual feelings. The religious concentration of the soul appears in the form of feeling; it nevertheless passes also into reflection; a form of worship {cuUus) is a result of reflection. The second form of the union of the objective and subjective in the human spirit is Art. This advances further into the realm of the actual and sensuous than Religion. In its noblest walk it is occupied with rep resenting, not indeed the Spirit of God, but certainly the Form of God; and in its secondary aims, that which is divine and spiritual generally. Its office is to render visible the Divine; presenting it to the imaginative and intuitive faculty. But the True is the object not only of conception and feeling, as in Religion — and of intuition, as in Art — but also of the thinking faculty ; and this gives us the third form of the union in question — Philosophy. This is conse- quently the highest, freest, and wisest phase. Of course we are not intending to investigate these three phases here; they have only suggested themselves in virtue of their occupying the same general ground as the object here considered — the State. 100 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY The general principle which manifests itself and becomes an object of consciousness in the State — the form under which all that the State includes is brought — is the whole of that cycle of phenomena which constitutes the culture of a nation. But the definite substance that receives the form of universality, and exists in that concrete reality which is the State — is the Spirit of the People itself. The actual State is animated by this spirit, in all its particular affairs — its Wars, Institutions, etc. But man must also attain a conscious realization of this his Spirit and essential na- ture, and of his original identity with it. For we said that morality is the identity of the subjective or personal with the universal will. Now the mind must give itself an express consciousness of this; and the focus of this knowledge is Religion. Art and Science are only various aspects and forms of the same substantial being. — In considering Eelig- ion, the chief point of inquiry is, whether it recognizes the True — the Idea — only in its separate, abstract form, or in its true unity; in. separation — God being represented in an ab- stract form as the Highest Being, Lord of Heaven and Earth, living in a remote region far from human actualities — or in its unity — God, as Unity of the Universal and Individual ; the Individual itself assuming the aspect of positive and real • existence in the idea of the Incarnation. Religion is the sphere in which a nation gives itself the definition of that ; which it regards as the True. A definition contains every- ' thing that belongs to the essence of an object; reducing its nature to its simple characteristic predicate, as a mirror for every predicate — the generic soul pervading all its details. The conception of God, therefore, constitutes the general basis of a people's character. In this aspect, religion stands in the closest connection with the political principle. Freedom can exist only where Individuality is recognized as having its positive and real existence in the Divine Being. The connection may be further explained thus: Secular existence, as merely tem- poral — occupied with particular interests — is consequently INTRODUCTION 101 only relative and unauthorized; and receives its valid- ity only in as far as the universal soul that pervades it — its principle — receives absolute validity; which it cannot have unless it is recognized as the definite manifestation, the phenomenal existence of the Divine Essence. On this account it is that the State rests on Religion. We hear this often repeated in our times, though for the most part noth- ing further is meant than that individual subjects as God- fearing men would be more disposed and ready to perform their duty; since obedience to King and Law so naturally follows in the train of reverence for God. This reverence, indeed, since it exalts the general over the special, may even turn upon the latter — become fanatical — and work with incendiary and destructive violence against the State, its institutions, and arrangements. Religious feeling, therefore, it is thought, should be sober — kept in a certain degree of coolness — that it may not storm against and bear down that which should be defended and preserved by it. The possi- bility of such a catastrophe is at least latent in it. While, however, the correct sentiment is adopted, that the State is based on Religion, the position thus assigned to Religion supposes the State already to exist; and that subse- quently, in order to maintain it. Religion must be brought into it — in buckets and bushels as it were — and impressed upon people's hearts. It is quite true that men must be trained to religion, but not as to something whose existence has yet to begin. For in affirming that the State is based oa Religion — that it has its roots in it — we virtually assert that the former has proceeded from the latter; and that this derivation is going on now and will always continue; i.e. the principles of the State must be regarded as valid in and for themselves, which can only be in so far as they are recognized as determinate manifestations of the Divine Nature. The form of Religion, therefore, decides that of the State and its constitution. The latter actually originated in the particular religion adopted by the nation ; so that, in fact, the Athenian or the Roman State was possible only 102 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY in connection with the specific form of Heathenism existing among the respective peoples; just as a Catholic State has a spirit and constitution different from that of a Protestant one. If that outcry — that urging and striving for the implan- tation of Religion in the community — were an utterance of anguish and a call for help, as it often seems to be, express- ing the danger of religion having vanished, or being about to vanish entirely from the State — that would be fearful indeed — worse, in fact, than this outcry supposes ; for it im- plies the belief in a resource against the evil, viz. the implantation and inculcation of religion; whereas religion is by no means a thing to be so produced; its self-production (and there can be no other) lies much deeper. Another and opposite folly which we meet with in our time, is that of pretending to invent and carry out political constitutions independently of religion. The Catholic con- fession, although sharing the Christian name with the Protestant, does not concede to the State an inherent Justice and Morality-^a concession which in the Protestant principle is fundamental. This tearing away of the political morality of the Constitution from its natural connection, is necessary to the genius of that religion, inasmuch as it does not recognize Justice and Morality as independent and sub- stantial. But thus excluded from intrinsic worth — torn away from their last refuge, the sanctuary of conscience, the calm retreat where religion has its abode — the principles and institutions of political legislation are destitute of a real centre, to the same degree as they are compelled to remain abstract and indefinite. Summing up what has been said of the State, we find tjiat we have been led to call its vital principle, as aciiiating the individuals who compose it — Morality. The State, its laws, its arrangements, constitute the rights of its members ; its natural features, its mountains, air, and waters, are their country, their fatherland, their outward material property; the history of this State, their deeds; what their ancestors have produced belongs to them and lives in their memory. INTRODUCTION 103 All is their possession, just as they are possessed by it; for it constitutes their existence, their being. Their imagination is occupied with the ideas thus pre- sented, while the adoption of these laws, and of a fatherland so conditioned is the expression of their will. It is this matured totality which thus constitutes one Being, the spirit of one People. To it the individual members belong; each unit is the Son of his Nation, and at the same time — in as far as the State to which he belongs is undergoing develop- ment — the Son of his Age. None remains behind it, still less advances beyond it. This spiritual Being (the Spirit of his Time) is his; he is a representative of it; it is that in which he originated, and in which he lives. Among the Athenians the word Athens had a double import ; suggesting primarily, a complex of political institutions, but no less, in the second place, that Goddess who represented the Spirit of the People and its unity. This Spirit of a People is a determinate and particular Spirit, and is, as just stated, further modified by the degree of its historical development. This Spirit, then, constitutes the basis and substance of those other forms of a nation's consciousness which have been noticed. For Spirit in its self-consciousness must become an object of contemplation to itself, and objectivity involves, in the first instance, the rise of differences which make up a total of distinct spheres of objective spirit; in the saraej?^ay as the Soul exists only as the complex of its faculties, which in their form of con- centration in a simple unity produce that Soul. It is thus One Individuality which, presented in its essence as God, is honored and enjoyed in Religion; which is exhibited as an object of sensuous contemplation in Art; and is apprehended as an intellectual conception, in Philosophy. In virtue of the original identity of their essence, purport, and object, these various forms are inseparably united with the Spirit of the State. Only in connection with this particular religion can this particular political constitution exist; just as in sucb or such a State, such or such a Philosophy or order of Art. 104 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY The remark next in order is, that each particular National genius is to be treated as only One Individual in the process of Universal History. For that history is the exhibition of the divine, absolute development of Spirit in its highest forms — that gradation by which it attains its truth and consciousness of itself. The forms which these grades of progress assume are the characteristic "National Spirits" of History; the peculiar tenor of their moral life, of their Government, their Art, Religion, and Science. To realize these grades is the boundless impulse of the World-Spirit — the goal of its irresistible urging; for this division into organic members, and the full development of each, is its Idea.-^Universal History is exclusively occupied with show- ing how Spirit comes to a recognition and adoption of the Truth: the dawn of knowledge appears; it begins to discoveb salient principles, and at last it arrives at full consciousness. Having, therefore, learned the abstract characteristics of the nature of Spirit, the means which it uses to realize its Idea, and the shape assumed by it in its complete realization in phenomenal existence — namely, the State — nothing fur- ther remains for this introductory section to contemplate but III. The course of the World's History. The mutations which history presents have been long characterized, in the general, as an advance to something better, more perfect. The changes that take place in Nature — how infinitely mani- fold soever they may be — exhibit only a perpetually self- repeating cycle; in Nature there happens "nothing new under the sun," and the multiform play of its phenomena so far induces a feeling of ennui; only in those changes which take place in the region of Spirit does anything new arise. This peculiarity in the world of mind has indicated in the case of man an altogether different destiny from that of merely natural objects — ^in which we find always one and the same stable character, to which uU change reverts; — namely, a real capacity for change, and that for the better — an impulse of perfectibility. This principle, which reduces change itself under a law, has met with an unfavorable INTRODUCTION 105 reception from religions — such, as the Catholic — and from States claiming as their just right a stereotyped, or at least a stable position. If the mutability of worldly things in general — political constitutions, for instance — is conceded, either Eeligion (as the Beligion of Truth) is absolutely excepted, or the difficulty escaped by ascribing changes, revolutions, and abrogations of immaculate theories and institutions, to accidents or imprudence — but principally to the levity and evil passions of man. The principle of Per- fectibility indeed is almost as indefinite a term as mutability in general ; it is without scope or goal, and has no standard by which to estimate the changes in question : the improved, more perfect, state of things toward which it professedly tends is altogether undetermined. The principle of D^elopment involves also the existence of a latent germ of being — a capacity or potentiality striving to realize itself. This formal conception finds actual exist- ence in Spirit; which has the History of the World for its theatre, its possession, and the sphere of its realization. It is not of such a nature as to be tossed to and fro amid the superficial play of accidents, but is rather the absolute arbiter of things; entirely unmoved by contingencies, which, indeed, it applies and manages for its own purposes. Devel- opment, however, is also a property of organized natural objects. Their existence presents itself, not as an exclusive- ly dependent one, subjected to external changes, but as one which expands itself in virtue of an internal unchangeable principle; a simple essence — whose existence, i.e. as a germ, is primarily simple— but which subsequently develops a variety of parts, that become involved with other objects, and consequently live through a continuous process of chaiiges; — ^a process, nevertheless, that results in the very contrary of change, "and is even transformed into a vis con- servatrix of the organic principle, and the form embodying it. Thus the organized individuum produces itself; it ex- pands itself actually to what it was always potentially. — So Spirit is only that which it attains by its own efforts; it 106 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY makes itself actually what it always was potentially. — That development (of natural organisms) takes place in a direct, unopposed, unhindered manner. Between the Idea and its realization — the essential constitution of the original germ and the conformity to it of the existence derived from it — no disturbing influence can intrude. But in relation to Spirit it is quite otherwise. The realization of its Idea is mediated by consciousness and will; these very faculties are, in the first instance, sunk in their primary merely natural life; the first object and goal of their striving is the realization of their merely natural destiny — but which, since it is Spirit that animates it, is possessed of vast attractions and displays great power and [moral] richness. Thus Spirit is at war with itself; it has to overcome itself as its most formidable obstacle. That development which in the sphere of Nature is a peaceful growth, is, in that of Spirit, a severe, a mighty conflict with itself. What Spirit really strives for is the realization of its Ideal being; but in doing so, it hides that goal from its own vision, and is proud and well satisfied in this alienation from it. Its expansion, therefore, does not present the harmless tranquillity of mere growth, as does that of organic life, but a stern reluctant working against itself. It exhibits, more- over, not the mere formal conception of development, but f the attainment of a definite result. The goal of attainment we determined at the outset: it is Spirit in its completeness, ' in its essential nature, i.e. Freedom. This is the funda- mental object, and therefore also the leading principle of the development — that whereby it receives meaning and impor- tance (as in the Roman history, Rome is the object — conse- quently that which directs our consideration of the facta related); as, conversely, the phenomena of the process have resulted from this principle alone, and only as referred to it, possess a sense and value. There are many considerable periods in History in which this development seems to have been intermitted; in which, we might rather say, the whole enormous gain of previous culture appears to hare been INTRODUCTION 107 entirely lost; after which, unhappily, a new commencement has been necessary, made in the hope of recovering — by the assistance of some remains saved from the wreck of a former civilization, and by dint of a renewed incalculable expenditure of strength and time — one of the regions which had been an ancient possession of that civilization. We behold also continued processes of growth; structures and systems of culture in particular spheres, rich in kind, and well developed in every direction. The merely formal and indeterminate view of development in general can neither assign to one form of expansion superiority over the other, nor render comprehensible the object of that decay of older periods of growth; but must regard such occurrences — or, to speak more particularly, the retrocessions they exhibit — as external contingencies; and can only judge of particular modes of development from indeterminate points of view; which — since the development, as such, is all in all — are relative and not absolute goals of attainment. Universal History exhibits the gradation in the develop- ment of that principle whose substantial purport is the consciousness of Freedom. The analysis of the successive grades, in their abstract form, belongs to Logic; in their concrete aspect to the Philosophy of Spirit. Here it is suffi- cient to state that the first step in the process presents that immersion of Spirit in Nature which has been already re- ferred to; the second shows it as advancing to the conscious- ness of its freedom. But this initial separation from Nature is imperfect and partial, since it is derived immediately from the merely natural state, is consequently related to it, and is still encumbered with it as an essentially connected element. The third step is the elevation of the soul from this still limited and special form of freedom to its pure universal form; that state in which the spiritual essence attains the consciousness and feeling of itself. These grades are the ground-principles of the general process; but how each of them on the other hand involves within itself a process of formation — constituting the links in a dialectic of 108 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY transition — to particularize this must be reserved for the sequel. Here we have only to indicate that Spirit begins with a germ of infinite possibility, but only possibility — containing its substantial existence in an undeveloped form, as the object and goal which it reaches only in its resultant — full reality. In actual existence Progress appears as an advanc- ing from the imperfect to the more perfect; but the former must not be understood abstractly as only the imperfect, but as something which involves the very opposite of itself — the so-called perfect — ^as a germ or impulse. So — reflectively, at \e&ai— possibility points to something destined to become actual; the Aristotelian So'va/u^ is also potentia, power and might. Thus the Imperfect, as involving its opposite, is a contradiction, which certainly exists, but which is continu- ally annulled and solved; the instinctive movement — the inherent impulse in the life of the soul — to break through the rind of mere nature, sensuousness, and that which is alien to it, and to attain to the light of consciousness, i.e. to itself. We have already made the remark how the commence- ment of the history of Spirit must be conceived so as to be in harmony with its Idea — in its bearing on the representa- tions that have been made of a primitive "natural condi- tion," in which freedom and justice are supposed to exist or to have existed. This was, however, nothing more than an assumption of historical existence, conceived in the twilight of theorizing reflection. A pretension of quite another order — not a mere inference of reasoning, but making the claim of historical fact, and that supernaturaUy confirmed — ^is put forth ill connection with a different view that is now widely promulgated by a certain class of speculatists. This view takes up the idea of the primitive paradisiacal condition of man, which had been previously expanded by the Theolo- gians, after their fashion — involving, e.g., the supposition that God spoke with Adam in Hebrew — but remodelled to suit other requirements. The high authority appealed to in INTRODUCTION 109 the first instance is the biblical narrative. But this depicts the primitive condition, partly only in the few well-known traits, but partly either as in man generically — ^humam nature at large — or, so far as Adam is to be taken as an individual, and consequently one person — as existing and completed in this one, or onlff in one human pair. The biblical account by na means justifies us in imagining a people, and a his- torical condition of such people, existing in that primitive form ; still less does it warrant us in attributing to them the possession of a perfectly developed knowledge of God and Nature. "Nature," so the fiction runs, "like a clear mirror of Crod's CTeation, had originally lain revealed and trans- parent to the unclouded eye of man." ' Divine Truth is im-agined to have been equally manifest. It is even hinted, though left in some degree of obscurity, that in this primary condition men were in possession of an indefinitely extended and already expanded body of religious truths immediately revealed by Ghjd. This theory af&rms that all religions liad tlieir historical commencement in this primitive knowledge, and that they polluted and obscured the original Truth by .the monstrous creations of error and depravity; though in all the mythologies invented by Error, traces of that origin and of those primitive true dogmas are supposed to be pres- ent and cognizable. An important interest, therefore, ac- crues to the investigation of the history of ancient peoples, that, -viz., of the endeavor to trace their annats up to the point where such fra^nents of tlie primary revelation are to be met with in greater purity than lower down.' • Fr. von Schlegd, "Philosophy of History," page 91. ' We have to- £aiik this interest fbr many valuable discoveries in Oriental iteratuce, and for a renewed stady of treasures previously known, in the de- partment of ancient Asiatic Cnlturei Mythology, Religions, and History. In Catholic countries, where a refined literary taste prevails. Governments have yielded to the requirements of speculative inquiry, and have felt the necessity of allying themselves with learning and philosophy. Eloquently and impres- sively has the Abb^ Lamennais reckoned it among the criteria of the true lel^- ioa, that it must be the universal — that is, catholic — and the oldest in date; and the Congregation has labored zealously and diligently in France toward Tendering such assertions no longer mere puipit tirades and authoritative dicta, such as were deemed sufficient formerly. The religion of Buddha — ^a god-man 110 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY We owe to the interest which has occasioaed these inves- tigations very much that is valuable; but this investigation bears direct testimony against itself, for it would seem to be awaiting the issue of a historical demonstration of that which is presupposed by it as historically established. That advanced condition of the knowledge of God, and of other scientific, e.g. astronomical, knowledge (such as has been falsely attributed to tbe Hindoos); and the assertion that such a condition occurred at the very beginning of History — or that the religions of various nations were traditionally derived from it, and have developed themselves in degen- eracy and depravation (as is represented in the rudely-con- ceived so-called "Emanation System"); — all these are sup- positions which neither have, nor — if we may contrast, with their arbitrary subjective origin, the true conception of History — can attain historical confirmation. The only consistent and worthy method which philo- sophical investigation can adopt, is to take up History where Rationality begins to manifest itself in the actual conduct of the World's affairs (not where it is merely an undeveloped potentiality) — where a condition of things is present in which it realizes itself in consciousness, will and action. The inorganic existence of Spirit — that of abstract Freedom — unconscious torpidity in respect to' good and evil (and consequently to laws), or, if we please to term it so, — which haa prevailed to such an enormous extent, has especially attracted at- tention. The Indian Timflrtis, as also the Chinese abstraction of the Trinity, has furnished clearer evidence in point of subject-matter. The savans, M. Abel Remusat and ii. Saint Martin, on the one hand, have undertaken the most meritorious investigations in the Chinese literature, with a view to make this also a base of operations for researches in the Mongolian and, if such were possible, in the Thibetian ; on the other hand, Baron von Eckstein, in his way {i.e. adopting from Germany superficial physical conceptions and mannerisms, in the style of Fr. v. Schlegel, though with more geniality than the latter) — in his periodical, "Le Catholique" — has furthered the cause of that primitive Catholi- cism generally, and In particular has gained for the savans of the Congregation the support of the Government ; so that it has even set on foot expeditions to the Bast, in order to discover there treasures still concealed (from which further disclosures have been anticipated, respecting profound theological questions, par- ticularly on the higher antiquity and sources of Buddhism), and with a view to promote the interests of Catholicism by this circuitous but scientifically interest- ing method. INTRODUCTION 111 "blessed ignorance" — is itself not a subject of History. Natural, and at the same time religious morality, is the piety of the family. In this social relation, morality con- sists in the members behaving toward each other not as in- dividuals — possessing an independent will; not as persons. The Family, therefore, is excluded from that process of de- velopment in which History takes its rise. But when this self-involved spiritual Unity steps beyond this circle of feel- ing and natural love, and first attains the consciousness of personality, we have that dark, dull centre of indifference, in which neither Nature nor Spirit is open and transparent; and for which Nature and Spirit can become open and trans- parent only by means of a further process — a very length- ened culture of that Will at length become self-conscious. Consciousness alone is clearness; and is that alone for which Grod (or any other existence) can be revealed. In its true form — in absolute universality — nothing can be manifested except to consciousness made percipient of it. Freedom is nothing but the recognition and adoption of such universal substantial objects as Eight and Law, and the production of a reality that is accordant with them — ^the State. Nations may have passed a long life before arriving at this their destination, and during this period they may have attained considerable culture in some directions. This ante-historical period — consistently with what has been said — lies out of our plan; whether a real history followed it, or the peoples in question never attained a political constitution. — It is a great discovery in history — as of a new world — which has been made within rather more than the last twenty years, respect- ing the Sanscrit and the connection of the European lan- guages with it. In particular, the connection of the German and Indian peoples has been demonstrated, with as much certainty as such subjects allow of. Even at the present time we know of peoples which scarcely fonu a society, much less a State, but that have been long known as ex- isting ; while with regard to others, which in their advanced condition excite our especial interest, tradition reaches be- 112 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY yond the record of the founding of the State, and they experienced many changes prior to that epoch. In the con- nection just referred to, between the languages of nations so widely separated, we have a result before us, which proves the diffusion of those nations from Asia as a centre, and the so dissimilar development of what had been originally re- lated, as an incontestable fact; not as an inference deduced by that favorite method of combining, and reasoning from, circumstances grave and trivial, which has already enriched and will continue to enrich history with so many fictions given out as facts. But that apparently so extensive range of events lies beyond the pale of history ; in fact preceded it. In our language the term History' unites the objective with the subjective side, and denotes quite as much the historia rerum gestarum, as the res gestae themselves; on the other hand, it comprehends not less what has happened, than the narration of what has happened. This union of the two meanings we must regard as of a higher order than mere outward accident; we must suppose historical narrations to have appeared contemporaneously with historical deeds and events. It is an internal vital principle common to both that produces them synchronously. Family memorials, pa- triarchal traditions, have an interest confined to the family and the clan. The uniform course of events which sTach a condition implies is no subject of serious remembrance; though distinct transactions or turns of fortune may rouse Mnemosyne to form conceptions of them — ^in the same way as love and the religious emotions provoke imagination to give shape to a previously formless impulse. But it is the State which first presents subject-matter that is not only adapted to the prose of History, but involves the production of such history in the very progress of its own being. In- stead of merely subjective mandates on the part of govern- ment — sufficing for the needs of the moment — a community that is acquiring a stable existence, and exalting itself into ' Qerman, "Gesohichte" from "Geschehen," to happtn. — JV-. INTRODUCTION 113 a State, requires formal commands and laws— comprehensive and universally binding prescriptions; and thus produces a record as well as an interest concerned with intelligent, defi- nite — and, in their results — ^lasting transactions and occur- rences; on which Mnemosyne, for the behoof of the peren- nial object of the formation and constitution of the State, is impelled to confer perpetuity. Profound sentiments gener- ally, such as that of love, as also religious intuition and its conceptions, are in themselves complete — constantly present and satisfying; but that outward existence of a political con- stitution which is enshrined in its rational laws and customs is an imperfect Present; and cannot be thoroughly under- stood without a knowledge of the past. The periods — ^whether we suppose them to be centuries or millennia — ^that were passed by nations before history was written among them — and which may have been filled with revolutions, nomadic wanderings, and the strangest muta- tions — ^are on that very account-destitute of objective history, because they present no subjective history, no annals. We need not suppose that the records of such periods have acci- dentally perished; rather, because they were not possible, do we find them wanting. Only in a State cognizant of Laws, can distinct transactions take place, accompanied by such a clear consciousness of them as supplies the ability and suggests the necessity of an enduring record. It strikes every one, in beginning to form an acquaintance with the treasures of Indian literature, that a land so rich in intel- lectual products, and those of the profoundest order of thought, has no History; and in this respect contrasts most strongly with China — an empire possessing one so remarkable, one going back to the most ancient tiines. India has not only ancient books relating to religion, and splendid poetical prodactioos, but also ancient codes; the existence of which latter kind of literature has been men- tioned as a condition necessary to the origination of History — and yet History itself is not found. But in that country the impulse of organization, in beginning to develop social 114 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY distinctions, was immediately petrified in the merely natural classification according to castes ; so that, although the laws concern themselves with civil rights, they make even these dependent on natural distinctions; and are especially occu- pied with determining the relatiorts (Wrongs rather than Rights) of those classes toward each other, i.e. the privi- leges of the higher over the lower. Consequently, the ele- ment of morality is banished from the pomp of Indian life and from its political institutions. Where that iron bond- age of distinctions derived from nature prevails, the connec- tion of society is nothing but wild arbitrariness — transient activity — or rather the play of violent emotion without any goal of advancement or development. Therefore no intelli- gent reminiscence, no object for Mnemosyne presents itself; and imagination — confused though profound — expatiates in a region which, to be capable of History, must have had an aim within the domain of Reality, and, at the same time, of substantial Freedom. Since such are the conditions indispensable to a history, it has happened that the growth of Families to Clans, of Clans to Peoples, and their local diffusion consequent upon this numerical increase — a series of facts which itself sug- gests so many instances of social complication, war, revolu- tion, and ruin — a process which is so rich in interest, and so comprehensive in extent — has occurred without giving rise to History : moreover, that the extension and organic growth of the empire of articulate sounds has itself remained voice- less and dumb — a stealthy, unnoticed advance. It is a fact revealed by philological monuments, that languages, during a rude condition of the nations that have spoken them, have been very highly developed; that the human understanding occupied this theoretical region with great ingenuity and completeness. For Grammar, in its extended and consistent form, is the work of thought, which makes its categories distinctly visible therein. It is, moreover, a fact, that with advancing social and political civilization, this systematic completeness of intelligence suffers attrition, and language INTRODUCTION 115 thereupon becomes poorer and ruder: a singular phenom- enon — that the progress toward a more highly intellectual condition, while expanding and cultivating rationality, should disregard that intelligent amplitude and expressive- ness — should find it an obstruction and contrive to do with- out it. Speech is the act of theoretic intelligence in a special sense ; it is its external manifestation. Exercises of memory and imagination without language are direct [non-specula- tive] manifestations. But this act of theoretic intelligence itself, as also its subsequent development, and the more con- crete class of facts connected with it — viz. the spreading of peoples over the earth, their separation from each other, their comminglings and wanderings — remain involved in the obscurity of a voiceless past. They are not acts of Will becoming self-conscious — of Freedom, mirroring itself in a phenomenal form, and creating for itself a proper reality. Not partaking of this element of substantial, veritable exist- ence, those nations — notwithstanding the development of language among them — never advanced to the possession of a history. The rapid growth of language, and the prog- ress and dispersion of Nations, assume importance and interest for concrete Eeason, only when they have come in contact with States, or begin to form political constitutions themselves. After these remarks, relating to the form of the com- mencement of the World's History, and to that ante-historical period which must be excluded from it, we have to state the direction of its course : though here only formally. The farther definition of the subject in the concrete comes under the head of arrangement. Universal history — as already demonstrated — shows the development of the consciousness of Freedom on the part of Spirit, and of the consequent realization of that Freedom. This development implies a gradation — a series of increas- ingly adequate expressions or manifestations of Freedom, which result from its Idea. The logical, and — as still more prominent — the dialectical nature of the Idea in general, viz. 116 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY tbat it is self-determined — tliat it assumes successive forms' which it successively 1;ranscends ; and, by this very process of transcending its earlier stages, gains an affirmative, and, in fact, a richer and more concrete shape; — this necessity of its nature, and the necessary series of pure abstract forms which the Idea successively assumes — ^is exhibited in the department of Logic. Here we need adopt only one of its results, viz. that every step in the process, as diflEering from any other, has its determinate peculiar principle. In history this principle is idiosyncrasy of Spirit — peculiar National Genius. It is within the limitations of this idiosyncrasy that the spirit of the nation, concretely manifested, expresses every aspect of its consciousness and will — the whole cycle of its realization. Its religion, its polity, its ethics, its legislation, and even its science, art, and mechanical skill, all bear its stamp. These special peculiarities find their key in that common peculiarity — the particular principle that characterizes a people; as, on the other hand, in the facts which History presents in detail, that common characteristic principle may be detected. That such or such a specific quality constitutes the peculiar genius of a people, is the element of our inquiry which must be derived from experi- ence, and historically proved. To accomplish this, presup- poses not only a disciplined faculty of abstraction, but an intimate acquaintance with the Idea. The investigator must be familiar a priori (if we like to call it so) with the whole circle of conceptions to which the principles in question belong — just as Keppler (to name the most illustrious ex- ample in this mode of philosophizing) must have been familiar a priori with ellipses, with cubes and squares, and with ideas of their relations, before he could discover, from the empirical data, those immortal "Laws" of his, which are none other than forms of thought pertaining to those classes of conceptions. He who is unfamiliar with the science that embraces these abstract elementary conceptions, is as little capable — though he may have gazed on the firma- ment and the motions of the celestial bodies for a lifetime — INTRODUCTION 117 of understanding those Laws, as of discovering ttem. From this want of acquaintance with the ideas that relate to the development of Freedom, proceed a part of those objections which are brought against the philosophical consideration of a science usually regarded as one of mere experience; the so-called a priori method, and the attempt to insinuate ideas Into the empirical data of history, being the chief points in the indictment. Where this deficiency exists, such concep- tions appear alien — not lying within the object of investiga- tion. To minds whose training has been narrow and merely subjective — which have not an acquaintance and familiarity with ideas — they are something strange^not embraced in the notion and conception of the subject which their limited intellect forms. Hence the statement that Philosophy does not understand such sciences. It must, indeed, allow that it has not that kind of Understanding which is the prevail- ing one in the domain of those sciences, that it does not proceed according to the categories of such Understanding, but according to the categories of Reason — though at the same time recognizing that Understanding, and its true value and position. It must be observed that in this very process of scientific Understanding, it is of importance that the essential should be distinguished and brought into relief in contrast with the so-called non-essential. But in order to render this possible, we must know what is essential; and that is — in view of the History of the World in general — the Consciousness of Freedom, and the phases which this consciousness assumes in developing itself. The bearing of historical facts on this category,, is their bearing on the truly Essential. Of the difficulties stated, and the opposi- tion exhibited to comprehensive conceptions in science, part must be referred to the inability to grasp and understand Ideas. If in Natural History some monstrous hybrid growth is alleged as an objection to the recognition of clear and indubitable classes or species, a sufficient reply is furnished by a sentiment often vaguely urged — that "the exception confirms the rule"; i.e. that it is the part of a well-defined 118 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY rule to show the conditions in which it applies, or the deficiency or hybridism of cases that are abnormal. Mere Nature is too weak to keep its genera and species pure, when conflicting with alien elementary influences. li,e.g., on considering the human organization in its concrete aspect, we assert that brain, heart, and so forth are essential to its organic life, some miserable abortion may be adduced, which has on the whole the human form, or parts of it — which has been conceived in a buman body and has breathed after birth therefrom — in wbich nevertheless no brain and no heart is found. If such an instance is quoted against the general conception of a human being — ^the objector persisting in using the name, coupled with a superficial idea respecting it — it can be proved that a real, concrete human being is a truly different object; that such a being must have a brain in its head, and a heart in its breast. A similar process of reasoning is adopted, in reference to the correct assertion that genius, talent, moral virtues, and sentiments, and piety, may be found in every zone, under all political constitutions and conditions ; in confirmation of which examples are forthcoming in abundance. If, in this assertion, tbe accompanying distinctions are intended to be repudiated as unimportant or non-essential, reflection evi- dently limits itself to abstract categories; and ignores the specialities of the object in question, which certainly fall under no principle recognized by such categories. That intellectual position which adopts such merely formal points of view presents a vast field for ingenious questions, erudite views, and striking comparisons; for profound seeni- ing reflections and declamations, which may be rendered so much' the more brilliant in proportion as the subject they refer to is indefinite, are susceptible of new and varied forms in inverse proportion to the importance of the results that can be gained from them, and the certainty and ration- ality of their issues. Under such an aspect the well-known Indian Epopees may be compared with the Homeric; per- haps — since it is the vastness of the imagination by which INTRODUCTION 119 poetical genius proves itself — preferred to them; as, on ac- count of the similarity of single strokes of imagination in the attributes of the divinities, it has been contended that Greek mythological forms may be recognized in those of India. Similarly the Chinese philosophy, as adopting the One [tV ek] as its basis, has been alleged to be the same as at a later period appeared as Eleatic philosophy and as the Spinozistic System; while in virtue of its expressing itself also in abstract numbers and lines, Pythagorean and Chris- tian principles have been supposed to be detected in it. Instances of bravery and indomitable courage — traits of magnanimity, of self-denial, and self-sacrifice, which are found among the most savage and the most pusillanimous nations — are regarded as sufficieat to support the view that in these nations as much of social virtue and morality may be found as in the most civilized Christian states, or even more. And on this ground a doubt has been suggested whether in the progress of history and of general culture mankind have become better; whether their morality has been increased — morality being regarded in a subjective aspect and view, as founded on what the agent holds to be right and wrong, good and evil; not on a principle which is considered to be in and for itself right and good, or a crime and evil, or on a particular religion believed to be the true one. We may fairly decline on this occasion the task of tracing the formalism and error of such a view, and estab- lishing the true principles of morality, or rather of social virtue in opposition to false morality. For the History of the World occupies a higher ground than that on which morality has properly its position, which is personal char- acter — ^the conscience of individuals — their particular will and mode of action; these have a value, imputation, reward or punishment proper to themselves. What the absolute aim of Spirit requires and accomplishes — what Providence does — transcends the obligations, and the. liability to impu- tation and the ascription of good or bad motives, which at- 120 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY tach to individuality in virtue of its social relations. Tbey who on moral grounds, and consequently with noible intea- tion, have resisted that which the advance of the Spiritual Idea makes necessary, stand higher in moral worth than those whose crimes have been turned into the means — ^uuder the direction of a superior principle — of realizing the pur- poses of that principle. But in such revolutions both par- ties generally stand within the limits of the same circle of transient and corruptible existence. Consequently it is only a formal recti tude> — deserted by the living Spirit and by God — which those who stand upon ancient right and order main- tain. The deeds of great men, who are the Individuals of the World's History, thus appear not only justified in view of that intrinsic result of which they were not conscious, but also from the point of view occupied by the secular moralist. But looked at from this point, moral claims that are irrele- vant must not be brought into collision with world-histoia- cal deeds and their accomplishment. The Litany of private virtues — modesty, humility, philanthropy and forbearance — must not be raised against them. The History of the World might, on principle, entirely ignore the circle within whida morality and the so much talked of distinction between the moral and the politic lies — not only in abstaining fi'om judg- ments, for the principles involved, and the necessary refer- ence of the deeds in question to those principles, are a sufiS:- eient judgment of them — ^but in leaving Individuals quite out of view and unmentioned. What it has to reeord is the activity of the Spirit of Peoples, so that the individual forms which that spirit has assumed in the sphere of outward real- ity might be left to the delineation of special histories. The same kind of formalism avails itself in its peculiar manner of the indefiniteness attaching to genius, poetry, and even philosophy; thinks equally that it finds these every- where. We have here products of reflective thouglit; and it is familiarity with those general conceptions which single out and name real distinctions without fathoming the true depth of the matter — that we call Culture. It is something INTRODUCTION 121 merely formal, inasmuch as it aims at nothing more than the analysis of the subject, whatever it be, into its constituent parts, and the comprehension of these in their logical defini- tions and forms. It is not the free universality of concep- tion necessary for making an abstract principle the object of consciousness. Such a consciousness of Thought itself, and of its forms isolated from a particular object, is Phi- losophy. This has, indeed, the condition of its existence in culture; that condition being the taking up of the object of thought, and at the same time clothing it with the form of universality, in such a way that the material content and the form given by the intellect are held in an inseparable state; inseparable to such a degree that the object in question — which, by the analysis of one conception into a multitude of conceptions, is enlarged to an incalculable treasure of thought — is regarded as a merely empirical datum in whose formation thought has had qo share. But it is quite as much an act of Thought — of the Under- standing in particular — ^to embrace in one simple conceptiou an object which of itself comprehends a concrete and large significance (as Earth, Man — Alexander or Caesar) and to designate it by one word — as to resolve such a conception — duly to isolate in idea the conceptions which it contains, and to give them particular names. And in reference to the view which gave occasion to what has just been said, thus much will be clear — ^that as reflection produces what we include under the general terms Grenius, Talent, Art, Science — formal culture on every grade of intellectual development not only can, but must grow, and attain a mature bloom, while the grade in question is developing itself to a State, and on this basis of civilization is advancing to intelligent reflection and to general forms of thought — as in laws, so io regard to all else. In the very association of men in a state lies the necessity of formal culture—consequently of the rise of the sciences and of a cultivated poetry and art generally. The arts designated "plastic," require besides, even in their technical aspect, the civilized assooiation of men. The poetio —-SOIBNOE — 6 122 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY art — which has less need of external requirements and means, and which has the element of immediate existence, the voice, as its material — steps forth with great boldness and with matured expression, even under the conditions presented by a people not yet united in a political combination ; since, as remarked above, language attains on its own particular ground a high intellectual development, prior to the com- mencement of civilization. Philosophy also must make its appearance where political life exists; since that in virtue of which any series of phe- nomena is reduced within the sphere of culture, as above stated, is the Form strictly proper to Thought; and thus for philosophy, which is nothing other than the consciousness of this form itself — the Thinking of Thinking — the material of which its edifice is to be constructed, is already prepared by general culture. If in the development of the State itself, periods are necessitated which impel the soul of nobler natures to seek refuge from the Present in ideal regions — in order to find in them that harmony with itself which it can no longer enjoy in the discordant real world, where the re- flective intelligence attacks all that is holy and deep, which had been spontaneously inwrought into the religion, laws and manners of nations, and brings them down and attenu- ates them to abstract godless generalities — Thought will be compelled to become Thinking Reason, with the view of effecting, in its own element, the restoration of its principles from the ruin to which they had been brought. We find then, it is true, among all world- historical peo- ples, poetry, plastic art, science, even philosophy; but not only is there a diversity in style and bearing generally, but still more remarkably in subject-matter; and this is a diversity of the most important kind, affecting the ration- ality of that subject-matter.. It is useless for a pretentious aesthetic criticism to demand that our good pleasure should not be made the rule for the matter — the substantial part of their contents — and to maintain that it is the beautiful form as such, the grandeur of the fancy, and so forth, which fine INTRODUCTION 123 art aims at, and whieli must be considered and enjoyed by a liberal taste and cultivated mind. A healthy intellect does not tolerate such abstractions, and cannot assimilate productions of the kind above referred to. Granted that the Indian Epopees might be placed on a level with the Homeric, on account of a number of those qualities of form — ^grandeur of invention and imaginative power, liveliness of images and emotions, and beauty of diction; yet the infinite difference of matter remains; consequently one of substantial impor- tance and involving the interest of Reason, which is imme- diately concerned with the consciousness of the Idea of Freedom, and its expression in individuals. There is not only a classical ^rm, but a classical order of subject-matter; and in a work of art form and subject-matter are so closely united that the former can only be classical to the extent to wT]ieh the latter is so. With a fantastical, indeterminate material — and Suie is the essence of Meason — the form be- comes measureless and formless, or mean and contracted. In the sam« way, in that comparison of the various systems of philosophy of which we have already spoken, the only point life and condition. — to have reduced its, laws, ito ideas of justice and morality to a science; for in this uniby [of the objective and, subjisetive] lies the most intimate unity that Spirit can attain to in and with itselL In its work it is; enxployed in rendering itself an object of. its own contemplar tion ; but it cannot developi itself: objectively in its essential nature,, except in thmking'iiiseli. At this point, then. Spirit ia acquainted with its prin- ciples — the general' character- o£ its, actsi But at the same- time,, in virtue of its very generality,, this work of thougihte is diflEerent in point of form from the' actual achievementa". of the national genius, and from the vital agency by which those achievements have been performed!. We have theoL before us a real and an ideal existence o£. the Spirit of tha Nation.. If we- wish to gain the general idea and concep- tion of what the Greeks were we find it ini Sophocles! and Aristophanes, in Thucydides. and Plato. In; these individ- ■iials the Greek spirit conceived and thought itself. This is the profoundier kind of satisfaction which the Spirit of a INTRODUCTION 131 people attains; but it is "ideal," and distinct from its "real" activity. At such a time, therefore, we are sure to see a people finding satisfaction in the idea of virtue; putting talk about virtue partly side by side with actual virtue, but partly in the place of it. On the other hand, pure, universal thought, since its nature is universality, is apt to bring the Special and Spontaneous — Belief, Trust, Customary Morality — to reflect upon itself, and its primitive simplicity; to show up the limitation with which it is fettered — partly suggesting reasons for renouncing duties, partly itself demanding rea- sons, and the connection of such requirements with Universal Thought; and not finding that connection, seeking to im- peach the authority of duty generally, as destitute of a sound foundation. At the same time the isolation of individuals from each other and from the Whole makes its appearance; their aggressive selfishness and vanity; their seeking personal advantage and consulting this at the expense of the State at large. That inward principle in transcending its outward manifestations is subjective also in form; viz. selfishness and corruption in the unbound passions and egotistic inter- ests of men. Zeus, therefore, who is represented as having put a limit to the devouring agency of Time, and stayed this transiency by having established something inherently and indepen- dently durable — Zeus and his race are themselves swallowed up, and that by the very power that produced them — ^the principle of thought, perception, reasoning, insight derived from rational grounds, and the requirement of such grounds. Time is the negative element in the sensuous world. Thought is the same negativity, but it is the deepest, the infinite form of it, in which therefore all existence generally is dissolved; first ^ratfe existence — determinate, limited form: but existence generally, in its objective character, is limited ; it appears therefore as a mere datum — something immediate — authority; — and is either intrinsically finite and limited, 132 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY or presents itself as a limit for the thinkiiig subject, and its infinite reflection on itself [unlimited abstraction]. But first we must observe how the life which proceeds from death is itself, on the other hand^ only individual life; so that,»regarding the species as the real and substantial in. this vicissitude, the perishing of the individual is a regresss of the species into individuality. The perpetuation of the race is, therefore, none other than the monotonous repetitioa of the same kind of existence. Further, we must remark how perception^ — the comprehension of being by thought— is the source and birthplace of a new, and in fact higher form, in a principle which, while it preserves, dignifies its material. For Thought is that Universal — that Species whicK is im- mortal, which preserves identity with itself. The particular form of Spirit not merely passes away in the world by nat- ural causes in Time, but is annulled! in the automatic self- mirroring activity of consciousness. Because this annulling is an activity of Thought, it is at the same time conservative and elevating in its operation. While then, on the one side, Spirit annuls the reality, the permanence of that wMcIl it is, it gains on the other side, the essence, the Thought, the Universal element of that which it only loas [its transient conditions]. Its principle is no longer that immediate im- ]3ort and aim which it was previously, but the essence of that import and aim. The result of this process is then that Spirit, in render- ing itself abjective and making this its being an object of thought, on the one hand destroys the determinate fornii of its being, on the other hand gains a comprehension of the universal element which it involves^ and thereby gives a new form to its inherent principle. In virtue of this, the sub- stantial character of the National Spirit has been altered — that is, its principle has risen into another, and in fact a higher principle. It is of the highest importance in apprehending and com- prehending History to have and to understand the thought, involved in this transition. The individual traverses as a INTRODUCTION 133 wHFty various grades of deYelopment, and remains the same indiTidual ; in Kke manner also does a people, till the Spirit which it embodies reaches the grade of universality. In this point lies the fundamental, the Ideal necessity of transi- tion. This is the soul — the essential consideration — of the philosophical comprehension of History. Spirilt is essentially the result of its own activity: its activity is the transcending of immediate, simple, unrefiected existence — the negation of that existence, and the returning into itself. We may compare it with the seed; for with this the plant begins, yet it is also the result of the plant's entire life. But the weak side of life is exhibited in the fact that the commencement and the result are disjoined from each other. Thus also is it in the life of individuals and peoples. The life of a people ripens a certain fruit; its activity aims at the complete manifestation of the principle which it em- bodies. But this fruit does not fall back into the bosom of the people that produced and matured it; on the contrary, it becomes a poison-draught to it. That poison-draught it cannot let alone, for it has an insatiable thirst for it: the taste of the draught is its annihilation, though at the same fime the rise of a new principle. We have already discussed the final aim of this pro- gression. Th« principles of the successive phases of Spirit ih&t animate the Nations in a necessitated gradatiiMi are tli«m«elves only steps in the development of the one uni- versE^l Spirit, which through them elevates and completes itself to a sel-comprehending totality. While we are thus concerned exclusively with the Idea of Spirit, and ia the History of the World regard everything as only its manifestation, we have, in traversing the past — however extensive its periods — only to do with what is presm.t; for philosophy, as occupying itself with the True, has to do with" the eterrmlly present. Nothing in the past is lost for it, for the Idea is ever present; Spirit is immortal; with it th«re is no past, no futore, but an essential now. This fieeesearily implies' that the present form of Spirit 134 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY comprehends within it all earlier steps. These have indeed unfolded themselves in succession independently ; but what Spirit is, it has always been essentially ; distinctions are only the development of this essential nature. The life of the ever present Spirit is a circle of progressive embodiments, which looked at in one aspect still exist beside each other, and only as looked at from another point of view appear as past. The grades which Spirit seems to have left behind it, it still possesses in the depths of its present. GEOGBAPHIOAL BASIS OF HISTOBY Contrasted with the universality of the moral Whole and with the unity of that individuality which is its active prin- ciple, the natural connection that helps to produce the Spirit of a People, appears an extrinsic element; but inasmuch as we must regard it as the ground on which that Spirit plays its part, it is an essential and necessary basis. We began with the assertion that, in the History of the World, the Idea of Spirit appears in its actual embodiment as a series of external forms, each one of which declares itself as an actually existing people, This existence falls under the category of Time as well as Space, in the way of natural existence; and the special principle, which every world- historical people embodies, has this principle at the same time as a natural characteristic. Spirit, clothing itself in this form of nature, suffers its particular phases to assume separate existence; for mutual exclusion is the mode of existence proper to mere nature. These natural distinctions must be first of all regarded as special possibilities, from which the Spirit of the people in question germinates, and among them is the Geographical Basis. It is not our con- cern to become acquainted with the land occupied by nations as an external locale, but with the natural type of the local- ity, as intimately connected with the type and character of the people which is the offspring of such a soil. This char- acter is nothing more nor less than the mode and form in which nations make their appearance in History, and take INTRODUCTION 135 place aiwJ position in it. Nature should not be rated too high nor too low: the mild Ionic sky certainly contributed much to the charm of the Homeric poems, yet this alone can produce no Homers. Nor in fact does it continue to pro- duce them; under Turkish government no bards have arisen. We must first take notice of those natural condi- tions which have to be excluded once for all from the drama of the World's History. In the Fjagid and in the Torrid zone the locality of World-historical peoples cannot be found. For awakening consciousness takes its rise sur- rounded by natural influences alone, and every develop- ment of it is the reflection of Spirit back upon itself in opposition to the immediate', unreflected character of mere nature. Nature is therefore one element in this antithetic abstracting process; Nature is the first standpoint from which man can gain freedom within himself, and this libera- tion must not be rendered difficult by natural obstructions. Nature, as contrasted with Spirit; is a quantitative mass, whose power must not be so great as to make its single force omnipotent. In the extreme zones man cannot come to free movement; cold and heat are here too powerful to allow Spirit to build up a world for itself. Aristotle said long ago, "When pressing needs are satisfied, man turns to the general and more elevated." But in the extreme zones such pressure may be said never to cease, never to be warded off; men are constantly impelled to direct attention to nature, to the glowing rays of the sun, and the icy frost. The true theatre of History is therefore the temperate zone; or rather, its northern half, because the earth there presents itself in a continental form, and has a broad breast, as the Greeks say. In the south, on the contrary, it divides itself, and runs out into many points. The same peculiarity shows itself in natural products. The north has many kinds of animals and plants with common characteristics; in the soath, where the land divides itself into points, natural forms also present individual features contrasted with each other. The World is divided into Old and New; the name of 136 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY New having originated in the fact that America and Aus- tralia have only lately become known to us. But these parts of the world are not only relatively new, but intrinsically so in respect of their entire physical and psychical constitution. Their geological antiquity we have nothing to do with. I will not deny the New World the honor of having emerged from the sea at the world's formation contemporaneously with the Old: yet the Archipelago between South America and Asia shows a physical immaturity. The greater part of the islands are so constituted that they are, as it were, only a superficial deposit of earth over rocks, which shoot up from the fathomless deep, and bear the character of novel origination. New Holland shows a not less immature geo- graphical character; for in penetrating from the settlements of the English further into the country, we discover im- mense streams, which have not yet developed themselves to such a degree as to dig a channel for themselves, but lose themselves in marshes. Of America and its grade of civili- zation, especially in Mexico and Peru, we have information, but it imports nothing more than that this culture was an entirely national one, which must expire as soon as Spirit approached it. America has always shown itself physically and psychically powerless, and still shows itself so. For the aborigines, after the landing of the Europeans in America, gradually vanished at the breath of European activity. In the United States of North America all the citizens are of European descent, with whom the old inhabitants could not amalgamate, but were driven back. The aborigines have certainly adopted some arts and usages from the Europeans, among others that of brandy-drinking, which has operated with deadly efiEect. In the South the natives were treated with much greater violence, and employed in hard labors to which their strength was by no means competent. A mild and passionless disposition, want of spirit, and a crouching submissiveness toward a Creole, and still more toward a European, are the chief characteristics of the native Ameri- cans; and it will be long before the Europeans succeed in INTRODUCTION 137 prodooing' any independence of f eelmg in: them. The inferi- ority- of these individuals in alL respects, event in regard.> to size, is- very manifest; only the quite southern races in Patagonia are more vigorous natures,, but still abiding; in their natural condition of rudeness and barbarism. When the Jesuits and the Catholic clergy proposed to accustom the Indians to European culture and manners (they have, as is well kno^wn, founded' a state in. Paraguay and convents in Mexico and California)) they commenced a dose intimacy with them, and prescribed for them the duties of the day,, which, slothful though their disposition was, they complied with under the authority of the Friarsi These, prescripts (at midnight a bell had to remind them even of their matri- monial' duties) were first, and very wisely, directed to the- creation of wants — the spring-s of human activity generally. The weakness of the American physique was a chief reason for bringing the negroes to America, to employ their labor in the work thkt had to be done in the New Worldi; for the negroes are far more susceptible of Eun^ean culture than the Indians, and an English traveller has adduced instances of negroes having become competent clergymen, medical men, etc. (a negro first discovered the use of the Peruvian bark), while only a single native was known to him whose intellect wks sufficiently developed to enable him to study, but who had' died soon after b^inning, through excessive brandy-drinkihg. The weakness of the human physique of America has been aggravated by a deficiency in the mere tools and appliances of progress — the want of horses and iron, the chief instruments by which they were subdued. The original nation having vanished, or nearly so, the eflEective population comes for the most part from Europe; and what takes place in America is but an emanation from Europe. Europe has sent its surplus population to America in much the same way as from the old Imperial Cities, where trade-guilds were dominant and trade was stereo- typed, many persons escaped to other towns which were not under such a yoke, and where the burden of imposts wrs 138 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORT not so heavy. Thus arose, by the side of Hamburg, Al- tona — by Frankfort, OfiEenbach — by Niirnburg, Fiirth — and Carouge by Geneva. The relation between North America and Europe is similar. Many Englishmen have settled there, where burdens and imposts do not exist, and whiere the combination of European appliances and European in- genuity has availed to realize some produce from the exten- sive and still virgin soil. Indeed the emigration in question ofEers many advantages. The emigrants have got rid of much that might be obstructive to their interests at home, while they take with them the advantages of European independence of spirit, and acquired skill; while for those who are willing to work vigorously, but who have not found in Europe opportunities for doing so, a sphere of action is certainly presented in America. America, as is well known, is divided into two parts, connected indeed by an isthmus, but which has not been the means of establishing intercourse between them. Rather, these two divisions are most decidedly distinct from each other. North America shows us on approaching it, along its eastern shore a wide border of level coast, behind which is stretched a chain of mountains — the blue mountains or Appalachians; further north the AUeghanies. Streams issu- ing from them water the country toward the coast, which affords advantages of the most desirable kind to the United States, whose origin belongs to this region. Behind that mountain chain the St. Lawrence River flows (in connection with huge lakes) from south to north, and on this river lie the northern colonies of Canada. Further west we meet the basin of the vast Mississippi, and the basins of the Missouri and Ohio, which it receives, and then debouches into the Bay of Mexico. On the western side of this region we have in like manner a long mountain chain, running through Mexico and the Isthmus of Panama, and under the names of the Andes or Cordillera cutting off an edge of coast along the whole west side of South America. The border formed by this is narrower and offers fewer advantages tlian that of North INTRODUCTION 139 America. There lie Peru and Chile. On the east side flow eastward the monstrous streams of the Orinoco and Amazons ; they form great valleys, not adapted, however, for cultiva- tion, since they are only wide desert steppes. Toward the south flows the Rio de la Plata, whose tributaries have their origin partly in the Cordilleras, partly in the northern chain of mountains which separates the basin of the Amazons from its own. To the district of the Eio de la Plata belong Brazil, and the Spanish Republics. Colombia is the north- ern coast-land of South America, at the west of which, flowing along the Andes, the Magdalena debouches into the Caribbean Sea. With the exception of Brazil, republics have come to occupy South as well as North America. In comparing South America (reckoning Mexico as part of it) with North America we observe an astonishing contrast. In North America we witness a prosperous state of things, an increase of industry and population, civil order and firm freeddm; the whole federation constitutes but a single state, and has its political centres. In South Amer- ica, on the contrary, the republics depend only on military force; their whole history is a continued revolution; feder- ated states become disunited; others previously separated become united; and all these changes originate in military revolutions. The more special differences between the two parts of America show us two opposite directions, the one in political respects, the other in regard to religion. South America, where the Spaniards settled and asserted suprem- acy, is Catholic; North America, although a land of sects of every name, is yet fundamentally Protestant., A wider distinction is presented in the fact that South America was conquered, but North America colonized. The Spaniards took possession of South America to govern it, and to be- come rich through occupying political offices, and by exac- tions. Depending on a very distant mother-country, their desires found a larger scope, and by force, address and confi- dence they gained a great predominance over the Indians. 140 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY The Nortli American States were, on the other haad, en- tirely colonized, by Europeans. Since in England Puritans, Episcopalians, and Catholics were engaged in perpetual con- flict, and now one party, now the other, had the upper hand, many emigrated to seek religious freedom on a foreign shore. These were industrious Europeans, who betook themselves to agriculture, tobacco and cotton planting, etc. Soon the whole attention of the inhabitants was given to labor, and the basis of their existence as a united body lay in the neces- sities that bind man to man, the desire of repose, the estab- lishment of civil rights, security and freedom, and a commu- nity arising from the aggregation of individuals as atomic constituents ; so that the state was merely something exter- nal for the protection of property. From; the Protestant religion sprang the principle of the mutual confidence of individuals— trast in the honorable dispositions of other meh; for in the Protestant Church the entire life — its ac- tivity generally — ^is the field for what it deems religious works. Among Catholics, on the contrary, the basis of such a confidence cannot exist; for in secular matters only force and voluntary subservience are the principles of ac- tion; and the forms which are called Constitutions are in this case only a resort of necessity, and arte no protection- against mistrust. If we compare North America further with Europe we shall find in the former the permanent example of a repub- lican constitution. A subjective unity presents itself; for there is a President at the head of the State, who, for the sake of security against any monarchical ambition, is chosen only for four years. Universal protection for propei?ty, and a something approaching entire immunity from public bur^ dens, are facts which are constantly held up to commendar tion. We have in these facts the fundamental character of the community — the endeavor of the individual after acqui- sition, commercial profit, and gain; the preponderance of private interest, devoting itself to that of the community only for its own advantage. We find, certainly, legal re- INTRODUCTION 141 latioas — a formal code of laws; but respect for law exists apart from genuine probity, and the American merchants commonly lie ,under the imputation of dishonest dealings under legal protection. If, on the one side, the Protestant Church develops the essential principle of confidence, as already stated, it thereby involves on the other hand the recognition of the validity of the element of feeling to such a degree as gives encouragement to unseemly varieties of caprice. Those who adopt this standpoint maintain that, as every one may have his peculiar way of viewing things generally, so he may have also a religion peculiar to himself. Thence the splitting up into so many sects, which reach the very acme of absurdity; many of which have a form of wor- ship consisting in convulsive movements, and sometimes in the most sensuous extravagances. This complete freedom of worship is developed to such a degree, that the various congregations choose ministers and dismiss them according to their absolute pleasure; for the Church is no independent existence — having a substantial spiritual being, and corre- spondingly permanent external arrangement — ^but the afEairs of religion are regulated by the good pleasure for the time being of the members of the community. In North Amer- ica the most unbounded license of imagination in religious matters prevails, and that religious unity is wanting which has been maintained in European States, where deviations are limited to a few confessions. As to the political condi- tion of North America, the general object of the existence of this State is not yet fixed and determined, and the neces- sity for a firm combination does not yet exist; for a real State and a real Grovernment arise only after a distinction of classes has arisen, when wealth and poverty become ex- treme, and wben suoli a condition of things presents itself that a large portion of the people can no longer satisfy its necessities in the way in which it has been accustomed so to do. But America is hitherto exempt from this pressure, for it has the outlet of colonization constantly and widely open» and multitudes are continually streaming into the 142 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY plains of the Mississippi. By this means the chief source of discontent is removed, and the continuation of the exist- ing civil condition is guaranteed. A comparison of the United States of North America with European lands is therefore impossible; for in Europe, such a natural outlet for population, notwithstanding all the emigrations that take place, does not exist. Had the woods of Germany- been in existence, the French devolution would not have occurred. North America will be comparable with Europe only after the immeasurable space which that country pre- sents to its inhabitants shall have been occupied, and the members of the political body shall have begun to be pressed back on each other. North America is still in the condition of having land to begin to cultivate. Only when, as in Europe, the direct increase of agriculturists is checked will the inhabitants, instead of pressing outward to occupy the fields, press inward upon each other — puTsuing town occu- pations, and tradin'g with their fellow citizens; and so form a compact system of civil society, and require an organized state. The North American Federation have no neighbor- ing State (toward which they occupy a relation similar to that of European States to each other), one which they regard with mistrust, and , against which they must keep up a standing army. Canada and Mexico are not objects of fear, and England has had fifty years' experience, that free America is more profitable to her than it was in a state of dependence. The militia of the North American Republic proved themselves quite as brave in the War of Indepen- dence, as the Dutch under Philip II. ; but generally, where Independence is not at stake, less power is displayed, and in the year 1814 the militia held out but indiilerently against the English. America is therefore the land of the future, where, in the ages that lie before us, the burden of the World's History shall reveal itself — perhaps in a contest between North and South America. It is a land of desire for all those who are weary of the historical Ittmber-room of old Europe. INTRODUCTION 143 Napoleon is reported to have said,' "Cette vieille Europe m'eanuie." It is for Amei'ica to abandon the ground on which hitherto the History of the World has developed itself. What has taken place in the New World up to the present time is only an echo of the Old World — the ex- pression of a foreign Life; and as a Land of the Future, it has no interest for us here, for, as regards History, our concern must be with that which has been and that which is. In regard to Philosophy, on the other hand, we have to do with that which (strictly speaking) is neither past nor future, but with that which is, which has an eternal exist- ence — with Eeason ; and this is quite suflBcient to occupy us. Dismissing, then, the. New World, and the dreams to which it may give rise, we pass over to the Old World — the scene of the World's History; and must first direct attention to the natural elements and conditions of exist- ence which it presents. America is divided into two parts, which are indeed connected by an Isthmus, but which forms only an external, material bond of union. The Old World, on the contrary, which lies opposite to America, and is sep- arated from it by the Atlantic Ocean, has its continuity interrupted by a deep inlet — the Mediterranean Sea. The three Continents that compose it have an essential relation to each other, and constitute a totality. Their peculiar fea- ture is that they lie round this Sea, and therefore have an easy means of communication; for rivers and seas are not to be regarded as disjoining, but as uniting. England and Brittany, Norway and Denmark, Sweden and Livonia, have been united. For the three quarters of the globe the Medi- terranean Sea is similarly the uniting element, and the cen- tre of World-History. Greece lies here, the focus of light in History. Then in Syria we have Jerusalem, the centre of Judaism and of Christianity; southeast of it lie Mecca and Medina, the cradle of the Mussulman faith; toward the west Delphi and Athens; further west still, Bome: on the Mediterranean Sea we have also Alexandria and Carthage. The Mediterranean is thus the heart of the Old World, for 144 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY it is that which, ooaditioned and vitalized it. Wdtkout i the History of the 'World could not be conceived : it wo ml* be like ancient Eome or Athens without the forum, when all the life of the city came together. The extensive tract o eastern Asia is severed from the process of general histories development, and has no share in it; so also Northern Eu rope, which took part in the World's History only at a latei date, and had no part in it while the Old World lasted; fo; this was exclusively limited to the countries lying rounc the Mediterranean Sea. Julius Caesar's crossing the Alpi — ^the conquest of Gaul and the relation into which thi Germans thereby entered with the Roman Empire — makei consequently an epoch in History; for in virtue of this i begins to extend its boundaries beyond the Alps. Easteri Asia and that trans- Alpine country are the extremes of thii agitated focus of human life around the Mediterranean — ^tlw beginning and end of History — its rise and decline. The more special geographical distinctions must now in established, and they are to be regarded as essential, rational distinctions, in contrast with the variety of merely accidental circumstances. Of these characteristic difierences there are three: (1.) The arid elevated land with its extensive steppes anc plains. (2.) The valley plains — the Land of Transition permeated and watered by great Streams. (3.) The coast region in immediate connection with th« sea. These three geographical elements are the essential ones, and we shall see each quarter of the globe triply divided ac cordingly. The first is the substantial, unvarying, metallic elevated region, intractably shut up within itself, but per haps ada-pted to send farth impulses over the rest of ±h( worldy the second forms centres of civilization, and is iim yet undeveloped independence [of humanity]; the thirc ofiers the means of connecting the world together, aod of mMntaining the connection. INTRODUCTION 145 (1.) TAe elevated land. We see such a desciiptioii of country in middle Asia inhabited by Mongolians (using lie word in a general sense): from the, Caspian Sea these Steppes stretch in a northerly direction toward the Blaxsfc Sea. As similar tracts may be cited the deserts of Arabia and of Barbary in Africa; in South America the country round the Orinoco, and in Paraguay. The peculiarity of the inhabitants of this elevated region, which is watered sometimes only by rain, or by the overflowing of a river (as are the plains of the Oriuioco) — ^is the patriarchal life, the division into sir^le families. The region which these families occupy is unfruitful or prcaduetive only temporarily: the inhabitants have their property not in the land- — irwm which they derive only a trifling profit — but in the animals that wander with them. For a long time these find pasture in the plains, and when they are depastured, the tribe moves to other parts of the country. They are careless and pro- vide nothing for the winter, on which account, therefore, half of the herd is frequently cut off. Among these in- habitants of the upland there exist no legal relations, and consequently there are exhibited among them the extremes of hospitality and rapiue; the last more especially when- they are suirroundedi by civilized nations, as the Arabians, who are assisted in their depredations by their horses and camels. The Mongoiiams feed on mare's milk, and thus the horse supplies them at the same time with appliances far nourish- ment and for war. Although this is the form of their patri- archal life, it often happens that, they cohere together in great masses, and by an impulse of one kind or another are excited to external movement. Though previously of peaceful disposition, they then rush as a devastating inun- dation over civilized laads, and the revolution which ensues has no cither result than destruction and desolation. Such an agitation was excited among those tribes under Zengis Khan and Tamerlane: they destroyed all before them; thea vanislied again, as does an overwhelDaiing Poorest- torrent — poeaessiog no inhexeut. paanciple of vitality. From the —Science — 1 146 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY uplands they rush down into the dells : there dwell peaceful mountaineers — herdsmen who also occupy themselves with agriculture, as do the Swiss. Asia has also such a people : they are, however, on the whole a less important element. (2.) The valley plains. These are plains, permeated by rivers, and which owe the whole of their fertility to the streams by which they are formed. Such a Yalley-Plain is China — India, traversed by the Indus and the Granges — Babylonia, where the Euphrates and the Tigris flow — Egypt, watered by the Nile. In these regions extensive Kingdoms arise, and the foundation of great States begins. For agri- culture, which prevails here as the primary principle of subsistence for individuals, is assisted by the regularity of seasons, which require corresponding agricultural operations ; property in land commences, and the consequent legal rela- tions; that is to say, the basis and foundation of the State, which becomes possible only in connection with such relations. (3.) The coast land. A Eiver divides districts of country from each other, but still more does the sea; and we are accustomed to regard water as the separating element. Especially in recent times has it been insisted upon that States must necessarily have been separated by natural fea- tures. Yet, on the contrary, it may be asserted as a funda- mental principle that nothing unites so much as water, for countries are nothing else than districts occupied by streams. Silesia, for instance, is the valley of the Oder; Bohemia and Saxony are the valley of the Elbe; Egypt is the valley of the Nile. With the sea this is not less the case, as has been already pointed out. Only Mountains separate. Thus the Pyrenees decidedly separate Spain from France. The Euro- peans have been in constant connection with America and the East Indies ever since they were discovered; but they have scarcely penetrated into the interior of Africa and Asia, because intercourse by land is much more difficult than by water. Only through the fact of being a sea has the Medi- terranean become a focus of national life. . Let us now look INTRODUCTION 147 at the character of the nations that are conditioned by this third element. The sea gives us the idea of the indefinite, the unlimited, and infinite; and va. feeling his own infinite in that Infinite, man is stimulated and emboldened to stretch beyond the limited: the sea invites man to conquest, and to piratical plunder, but also to honest gain and to commerce. The land, the mere Valley-plain, attaches him to the soil; it in- volves him in an infinite multitude of dependencies, but the sea carries him out beyond these limited circles of thought and action. Those who navigate the sea, have in- deed gain for their object, but the means are in this respect paradoxical, inasmuch as they hazard both property and life to attain it. The means therefore are the very opposite of that which they aim at. This is what exalts their gain and occupation above itself, and makes it something brave and noble. Courage is necessarily introduced into trade, daring is joined with wisdom. For the daring which en- counters the sea must at the same time embrace wariness — cunning — since it has to do with the treacherous, the most unreliable and deceitful element. This boundless plain is absolutely yielding — withstanding no pressure, not even a breath of wind. It looks boundlessly innocent, submissive, friendly, and insinuating; and it'is exactly this submissive- ness which changes the sea into the most dangerous and violent element. To this deceitfulness and violence man opposes merely a simple piece of wood; confides entirely in his courage and presence of mind; and thus passes from a firm ground to an unstable support, taking his artificial ground with him. The Ship — that swan of the sea, which cuts the watery plain in agile and arching movements or describes circles upon it — ^is a machine whose invention does the greatest honor to the boldness of man as well as to his understanding. This stretching out of the sea beyond the limitations of the land is wanting to the splendid political edifices of Asiatic States, although they themselves border OS the sea — as, for example, China. For them the sea is 148 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY only the limit, the ceasing of the land ; they have no posi- tive relation to it. The activity to which the sea invites is a quite peculiar one : "thence arises the fact that the coast- lands almost always separate themselves from the states of the interior, although they are connected with these by a river. Thus Holland has severed itself from Germany, Portugal from Spain. In accordance with these data we may now consider the three portions of the globe with which History is concerned, and here the three characteristic principles manifest them- selves in a more or less striking manner: Africa has for its leading classical feature the Upland, Asia the contrast of river regions with the Upland, Europe the mingling of these several elements. Africa must be divided into three parts: one is that which lies south of the desert of Sahara — Africa proper — the Upland almost entirely unknown to us, with narrow coast- tracts along the sea ; the second is that to the north of the desert — European Africa (if we may so call it) — a coast- land; the third is the river region of the Nile, the only valley-land of Africa, and which is in connection with Asia. Africa proper, as far as History goes back, has remained — for all purposes of connection with the rest of the World — shut up; it is the Gold-land compressed within itself — the land of childhood, which lying beyond the day of self- conscious history, is enveloped in the dark mantle of Night. Its isolated character originates not merely in its_ tropical nature, but essentially in its geographical condition. The triangle which it forms (if we take the West Ooast — which in the Gulf of Guinea makes a strongly indented angle — for one side, and in the same way the East Coast to Cape Gardafu for another) is on two sides so constituted for the most part as to have a very narrow Coast Tract, habitable only in a few isolated spots. Next to this toward the in- terior, follows, to almost the same extent, a girdle of marsh land with the most luxuriant vegetation, the especial home of ravenous beasts, snakes of all kinds — ^a border tract whose INTRODUCTION 149 atmosphere is poisonous to Europeans. This border consti- tutes the base of a cincture of high mountains, which are only at distant intervals traversed by streams, and where they are so, in such a way as to form no means of union with the interior; for the interruption occurs but seldom below the upper part of the mountain ranges, and only in individual uarrow channels, where are frequently found unnavigable waterfalls and torrents crossing each other in wild oonfasion. During the three or three and a half centuries that the Europeans have known this border-land and have taken places in it into their possession, they hav^ only here and there (and that but for a short time) passed these mountains, and have nowhere settled down beyond them. The land surrounded by these mountains is an un- known Upland, from which on the other hand the Negroes have seldom made their way through. In the sixteenth century occurred at many very distant points outbreaks of terrible hordes which rushed down upon the more peaceful inhabitants of the declivities. ' Whether any internal move- ment had taken place, or if so, of what character, we do not know. What we do know of these hordes, is the contrast between their conduct in their wars and forays themselves — which exhibited the most reckless inhumanity and disgust- ing barbarism — and the fact that afterward, when their rage was spent, in the calm time of peace, they showed them- selves mild and well disposed toward the Europeans, when they became acquainted with them. This holds good of the PuUahs and of the Mandingo tribes, who inhabit the mountain terraces of the Senegal and Gambia. The second portion of Africa is the river district of the Nile — Egypt; which was adapted to become a mighty centre of indepen- dent civilization, and therefore is as isolated and singular in Africa as Africa itself appears in relation to the other parts of the world. The northern part of Africa, which may be specially called that of the coast-territory (for Egypt has been frequently driven back on itself by the Mediterranean), lies on the Mediterranean and the Atlantic ; a magnificent terri- 150 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY tory, on which Carthage once lay — the site of the modern Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. This part was to be — must be attached to Europe: the French have lately made a successful effort in this direction: like Hither- Asia, it looks Europe-ward. Here in their turn have Carthaginians, Eomans and Byzantines, Mussulmans, Arabians, had their abode, and the interests of Europe have always striven to get a footing in it. The peculiarly African character is difficult to compre- hend, for the very reason that, in reference to it, we must quite give up the principle which naturally accompanies all our ideas — the category of Universality. In Negro life the characteristic point is the fact that consciousness has not yet attained to the realization of any substantial objective existence — as, for example, Grod, or Law — in which the in- terest of man's volition is involved and in which he realizes his own being. This distinction between himself as an individual and the universality of his essential being, the African in the uniform, undeveloped oneness of his exist- ence has not yet attained; so that the Knowledge of an absolute Being, an Other and a Higher than his individual self, is entirely wanting. The Negro, as already observed, exhibits the natural man in his completely wild and un- tamed state. We must lay aside all thought of reverence and morality — all that we call feeling — ^if we would rightly comprehend him ; there is nothing harmonious with human- ity to be found in this type of character. The copious and circumstantial accounts of Missionaries completely confirm this, and Mohammedanism appears to be the only thing which in any way brings the Negroes within the range of culture. The Mohammedans too understand better than the Euro- peans, how to penetrate into the interior of the country. The grade of culture which the Negroes occupy may be more nearly appreciated by considering the aspect which Religion presents among them. That which forms the basis of religious conceptions is the consciousness on the part of man of a Higher Power — even though this is conceived only INTRODUCTION 151 as a vis natures — ^in relation to which he feels himself a weaker, humbler being. Eeligion begins with the con- sciousness that there is something higher than man. But even Herodotus called the Negroes sorcerers: — now in Sorcery we have not the idea of a God, of a moral faith ; it exhibits man as the highest power, regarding him as alone occupying a position of command over the power of Nature. We have here therefore nothing to do with a spiritual adora- tion of Grod, nor with an empire of Right. Grod thunders, but is not on that account recognized as God. For the soul of man, God must be more than a thunderer, whereas among the Negroes this is not the case. Although they are neces- sarily conscious of dependence upon nature — for they need the beneficial influence of storm, rain, cessation of the rainy period, and so on — yet this does not conduct them to the consciousness of a Higher Power: it is they who command the elements, and this they call "magic." The Kings have a class of ministers through whom they command elemental changes, and every place possesses such magicians, who perform special ceremonies, with all sorts of gesticulations, dances, uproar, and shouting, and in the midst of this con- fusion commence their incantations. The second element in their religion consists in their giving an outward form to this supernatural power — projecting their hidden might into the world of phenomena by means of images. What they conceive of as the power in question is therefore nothing really objective, having a substantial being and difEerent from themselves, but the first thing that comes in their way. This, taken quite indiscriminately, they exalt to the dignity of a "Genius"; it may be an animal, a tree, a stone, or a wooden figure. This is their Fetish — a word to which the Portuguese first gave currency, and which is derived from feitizo, magic. Here, in the Fetish, a kind of objective in- dependence as contrasted with the arbitrary fancy of the Individual seems to manifest itself; but as the objectivity is nothing other than the fancy of the individual projecting itself into space, the human individuality remains master of 152 THE PHILOSOPSY OF HISTORY the image it has adopted. If any miscfeaoee occurs whicfc the Fetish has not averted, if rain is suspended, if there is a failure in the crops, they bind and beat or destroy the Fetish and so get rid of it, making another immediately, and thus holding it in their own power. Such a Fetish has no independence as an object of religious worship; still less has it aesthetic independence as a work of art; it is merely a creation that expresses the arbitrary choice of its maker, and which always remains in his bands. In short, there is no relation of dependence in this religion. There is, how- ever, one feature that points to something beyond; — the Worship of the Dead — in which their deceased forefathers and ancestors are regarded by them as a power influencing the living. Their idea in the matter is that these ancestors exercise vengeance and inflict upon man various injuries — exactly in the sense in which this was supposed of witches in the Middle Ages. Yet the'power of the dead is not held superior to that of the living, for the Negroes command the dead and lay spells upon them. Thus the power in question remains substantially always in bondage to the living sub- ject. Death itself is looked upon by the Negroes as no universal natural law; even this, they think, proceeds from evil-disposed magicians. In this doctrine is certainly in- volved the elevation of man over Nature; to such a degree that the chance volition of man is superior to the merely natural — that he looks upon this as an instrument to which he does not pay the compliment of treating it in a way con- ditioned by itself, but which he commands.' But from the fact that man is regarded as the Highest, it follows that he has no respect for himself; for only with the consciousness of a Higher Being does he reach a point of view which inspires him with real reverence. For if arbitrary choice is the absolute, the only substantial objec- tivity that is realized, the mind cannot in such be conscious ©f any Universality. The Negroes indulge, therefore, thalt ' Vide Hcsgel's "Vorlesungen iiber die Philosophie der Religion," I. 284and 289. 2d Ed. INTRODUCTION 153 perfect contempt for humanity which in its bearing on Jus- tice and Morality is the fundamental characteristic of the race. They have moreover no knowledge of the immor- tality of the soul, although spectres are supposed to appear. The undervaluing of humanity among them reaches an in- credible degree of intensity. Tyranny is regarded as no wrong, and cannibalism is looked upon as quite customary and proper. Among us instinct deters from it, if we can speak of instinct at all as appertaining to man. But with the Negro this is not the case, and the devouring of human flesh is altogether consonant with the general principles of the African race ; to the sensual Negro, human flesh is but an object of sense — mere flesh. At the death of a King hundreds are killed and eaten ; prisoners are butchered and their flesh sold in the markets; the victor is accustomed to eat the heart of his slain foe. When magical rites are per- formed, it frequently happens that the sorcerer kills the first that comes in his way and divides his body among the by- standers. Another characteristic fact in reference to the Negroes is Slavery. Negroes are enslaved by Europeans and sold to America. Bad as this may be, their lot in their own land is even worse, since there a slavery quite as abso- lute exists; for it is the essential principle of slavery that man has not yet attained a consciousness of his freedom, and consequently sinks down to a mere Thing — an object of no value. Among the Negroes moral sentiments are quite weak, or, more strictly speaking, -non -existent. Parents sell their children, and conversely children their parents, as either has the opportunity. Through the pervading influ- ence of slavery all those bonds of moral regard which we cherish toward each other disappear, and it does not occur to the Negro mind to expect from others what we are enabled to claim. The polygamy of the Negroes has frequently for its object the having many children, to be sold, every one of them, into slavery; and very often naive complaints on this score are heard, as for instance in the case of a Negro in London, who lamented that he was now quite a poor man 154 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY because he had already sold all his relations. In the con- tempt of humanity displayed by the Negroes, it is not so much a despising of death as a want of regard for life that forms the characteristic feature. To this want of regard for life must be ascribed the great courage, si^>ported by enor- mous bodily strength, exhibited by the Negroes, who allow themselves to be shot down by thousands in war with Bufo- peans. Life has a value only when it has' something valu- able as its object. Turning our attention in the next place to the category of political constitution, we shall see that the entire nature of this race is such as to preclude the existence of any sueh arrangement. The standpoint of humanity at this grade is mere sensuous volition with energy of will; since universal spiritual laws (for example, that of the morality of the Fam- ily) cannot be recognized here. Universality exists only as arbitrary subfective choice. The political bond can there- fore not possess such a character as that free laws should unite the community. There is absolutely no bond, no re- straint upon that arbitrary volition. Nothing but external force can hold the State together for a moment. A ruler stands at the head, for sensuous barbtarism can only be re- strained by despotic power. But since the subjects are of equally violent temper with their master, they keep him on the other hand within limits. Under the chiei there are many other chiefs with whom the former, whom we will call the King, takes counsel, and whose consent he must seek to gain, if he wishes to undertake a war or impose a tax. In this relation he can exercise more or less authority, and by fraud or force can on occasion put this or that chi^- tain out of the way. Besides this, the Kings have other specified prerogatives. Among the Ashantees the King inherits all the property left by his subjects at their death. In other places all unmarried women belong to the King, and whoever wishes a wife must buy her from him. If the Negroes are discontented with their King they depose and kill him. In Dahomey, when thoy are thus displeased, the INTRODUCTION 155 custom is to send parrots' eggs to the King, as a sign of dissatisfaction with his government. Sometimes also a depu- tation is sent, which intimates to him that the burden of government must have been very troublesome to him, and that he had better rest a little. The King then thanks his subjects, goes into his apartments, and has himself strangled by the women. Tradition alleges that in former times a state composed of women made itself famous by its con- quests : it was a state at whose head was a woman. She is said to have pounded her own son in a mortar, to have be- smeared herself with the blood, and to have had the blood of pounded children constantly at hand. She is said to have driven away or put to death all the males, and commanded the death of all male children. These furies destroyed everything in the neighborhood, and were driven to con- stant plunderings, because they did not cultivate the land. Captives in war were taken as husbands: pregnant women had to betake themselves outside the encampment; and if they had borne a son, put him out of the way. This infa- mous state, the report goes on to say, subsequently disap- peared. Accompanying the King we constantly find, in Negro States, the executioner, whose office is regarded as of the highest consideration, and by whose hands the King, though he makes use of him for putting suspected persons to death, may himself sufiEer death, if the grandees desire it. Fanaticism, which, notwithstanding the yielding disposition of the Negro in other respects, can be excited, surpasses, when roused, all belief. An English traveller states that when a war is determined on in Ashantee, solemn ceremo- nies precede it: among other things the bones of the King's mother are laved with human blood. As a prelude to the war, the King ordains an onslaught upon his own metropo- lis, as if to excite the due degree of frenzy. The King sent word to the English Hutchinson: "Christian, take care, and watch well over your family. The messenger of death has drawn his sword and will strike the neck of many Ashantees ; when the drum sounds it is the death signal for multitudes. 156 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Come to the Kiug, if you can, and fear nothing for your- self." The drum beat, and a terrible carnage was begun; all who came in the way of the frenzied Negroes in the streets were stabbed. On such occasions the King has all whom he suspects killed, and the deed then assumes the character of a sacred act. Every idea thrown into the mind of the Negro is caught up and realized with the whole energy of his will ; but this realization involves a wholesale destruc- tion. These people continue long at rest, but suddenly their passions ferment, and then they are quite beside them- selves. The destruction which is the consequence of their excitement is caused by the fact that it is no positive idea, no thought which produces these commotions;— a physical rather than a spiritual enthusiasm. In Dahomey, when the King dies, the bonds of society are loosed; in his palace begins indiscriminate havoc and disorganization. All the wives of the King (in Dahomey their number is exactly 3,883) are massacred, and through the whole town plunder and carnage run riot. The wives of the King regard this their death as a necessity; they go richly attired to meet it. The authorities have to hasten to proclaim the new governor, simply to put a stop to massacre. From these various traits it is manifest that want of self- control distinguishes the character of the Negroes. This condition is capable of no development or culture, and aa we see them at this day, such have they always been. The only essential connection that has existed and continued be- tween the Negroes and the Europeans is that of slavery. In this the Negroes see nothing unbecoming them, and the English, who have done most for abolishing the slave-trade and slavery, are treated by the Negroes themselves as ene- mies. For it is a point of first importance with the Kings to sell their captured enemies, or even their own subjects; and viewed in the light of such facts, we may conclude slavery to have been the occasion of the increase of human feeling among the Negroes. The doctrine which we deduce from this condition of slavery among the Negroes, and which INTRODUCTION 157 constitutes the only side of the question that has an interest for our inquiry, is that which we deduce fronj the Idea: viz. that the "N^atural condition" itself is one of absolute and thorough injustice — contravention of the Eight and Just. Every intermediate grade between this and the realization of a rational State retains — as might be expected — elements and aspects of injustice; therefore we find slavery even in the Greek and Soman States, as we do serfdom down to the latest times. But thus existing in a State, slavery is itself a phase of advance from the merely isolated sensual existence — a phase of education — a mode of becoming participant in a high^" morality and the culture connected with it. Slavery is in and for itself injitstice, for the essence of humanity is Freedom ; but for this man must be matured. The gradual abolition of slavery is therefore wiser and more equitable than its sudden removal. At this point we leave Africa, not to mention it again. For it is no historical part of the World ; it has no move- ment or development to exhibit. Historical movements in it — that is in its northern part — belong to the Asiatic or European World. Carthage displayed there an important transitionary phase of civilization; but, as a Phoenician col- ony, it belongs to Asia. Egypt will be considered in refer- ence to the passage of the human mind from its Eastern to its Western phase, but it does not belong to the African Spirit. What we properly understand by Africa, is the Unhistorical, Undeveloped Spirit, still involved in the conditions of mere nature, and which had to be pre- sented here only as on the threshold of the World's History. Having eliminated this introductory element, we find ourselves for the first time on the real theatre of History. It now only remains for us to give a prefatory sketch of the €reographical basis of the Asiatic and European world. Asia is, characteristically J the Orient quarter of the globe — the region of origination. It is indeed a Western world for Am«rica; but as Earope presents on the whole the centre 158 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY and end of tke old world, and is absolutely the West— so Asia is absolutely the East In Asia arose the Light of Spirit, and therefore the history of the World. We must now consider the various localities of Asia. Its physical constitution presents direct antitheses, and the essential relation of these antitheses. Its various geographi- cal principles are formations in themselves developed and perfected. First, the northern slope, Siberia, must be eliminated. This slope, from the Altai chain, with its fine streams, that pour their waters into the northern Ocean, does not at all concern us here; because the Northern Zone, as already stated, lies out of the pale of History. But the remainder includes three very interesting localities. The first is, as in Africa, a massive Upland, with a mountain girdle which contains the highest summits in the World. This Upland is bounded on the South and Southeast by the Mus-Tag or Imaus, parallel to which, further south, runs the Hima- laya chain. Toward the Bast, a mountain chain running from South to North parts ofE the basin of the Amur. On the North lie the Altai and Songarian mountains; in con- nection with the latter, in the Northwest the Musart and in the West the Belur Tag, which by the Hindoo Coosh chain are again united with the Mus-Tag. This high mountain girdle is broken through by streams, which are dammed up and form great valley plains. These, more or less inundated, present centres of excessive luxuri- ance and fertility, and are distinguished from the European river districts in their not forming, as those do, proper, valleys with valleys branching out from them, but river- plains. Of this kind are — the Chinese Valley Plain, formed by the Hoang-ho and Yang-tse-Kiang (the yellow and blue streams) — next that of India, formed by the Ganges; — less important is the Indus, which in the north gives character to the Punjaub, and in the south flows through plains of sand. Further on, the lands of the Tigris and Euphrates, INTRODUCTION 15Q which rise in Armenia and hold their course along the Per- sian mountauis. The Caspian Sea has similar river valleys; in the East those formed by the Oxus and Jaxartes (Grihon and Sihon), which ponr their waters into the Sea of Aral ; on the West those of the Cyrus and Araxes (Kur and Aras). — The Upland and the Plains must be distinguished from each other; the third element is their intermixture, which occurs in Hither [Anterior] Asia. To this belongs Arabia, the land of the Desert, the upland of plains, the empire of fanaticism. To this belong Syria and Asia Minor, connected with the sea, and having constant intercourse with Europe. In regard to Asia the remark above offered respecting geographical differences is especially true; viz. that the rearing of cattle is the business of the Upland — agriculture and industrial pursuits that of the valley-plains — ^while com- merce and navigation form the third and last item. Patri- archal independence is strictly bound up with the first con- dition of society; property and the relation of lord and serf with the second; civil freedom with the third. In the Up- land, where the various Jcinds of cattle-breeding, the rearing of horses, camels and sheep (not so much of oxen) deserve attention, we must also distinguish the calm habitual lif« of nomad tribes from the wild and restless character they dis- play in their conquests. These people, without developing themselves in a really historical form, are swayed by a powerful impulse leading them to change their aspect as nations; and although they have not attained a historical character, the beginning of History may be traced to them. It must, however, be allowed that the peoples of the plains are more interesting. In agriculture itself is involved, ipso facto, the cessation of a roving life. It demands foresight and solicitude for the future: reflection on a general idea is thus awakened ; and herein lies the principle of property and ' productive industry. China, India, Babylonia, have risen to the position of cultivated lands of this kind. But as the peoples that have occupied these lands have been shut up within themselves, and have not appropriated that L60 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY slement of civilization which the sea supplies (oi at any rate inly at the commencement of their civilization), and as their lavigation of it — to whatever extent it may have taken place — remained without influence on their culture — a rela- iion to the rest of History could only exist, in their case, through their being sought out, and their character inves- iigated by others. The mountain girdle of the upland, the upland itself, and the river-plains, characterize Asia physi- cally and spiritually ; but they themselves are not concretely, really, historical elements. The opposition between the ex- tremes is simply recognized, not harmonized; a firm settle- ment in the fertile plains is for the mobile, restless, roving condition of the mountain and Upland races nothing more bhan a constant object of endeavor. Physical features dis- tinct in the sphere of nature assume an essential historical relation. — Anterior Asia has both elements in one, and has, consequently, a relation to Europe; for what is most remark- ible in it, this land has not kept for itself, but sent over 30 Europe. It presents the origination of all religious and political principles, but Europe has been the scene of their ievelopment. Europe, to which we now come, has not the physical varieties which we noticed in Asia and Africa. The Euro- pean character involves the disappearance of the contrast exhibited by earlier varieties, or at least a modification of ^t; so that we have the milder qualities of a transition state. W^e have in Europe no uplands immediately contrasted with plains. The three sections of Europe require therefore a iiflEerent basis of classification. The first part is Southern Europe — looking toward the Mediterranean. North of the Pyrenees, mountain chains run through France, connected with the Alps that separate ind cut ofE Italy from France and Germany. Greece also belongs to this part of Europe. Greece and Italy long pre- sented the theatre of the World's History; and while the middle and north of Europe were uncultivated, the World- Spirit found its home here. INTRODUCTION 161 The second portion is the heart of Europe, which Caesar opened when conquering Gaul. This achievement was one of manhood on the part of the Roman General, and more pro- ductive than that youthful one of Alexander, who undertook to exalt the East to a participation in Greek life ; and whose work, though in its purport the noblest and fairest for the imagination, soon vanished, as a mere Ideal, in the sequel. — In this centre of Europe, France, Germany, and England are the principle countries. Lastly, the third part consists of the northeastern States of Europe — Poland, Eussia, and the Slavonic Kingdoms. They come only late into the series of historical States, and form and perpetuate the connection with Asia. In contrast with the physical peculiarities of the earlier divisions, these are, as already noticed, not present in a remarkable degree, but counterbalance each other. THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY CLASSIFICATION OF HISTORIC DATA IN THE geographical survey, the course of the World's History has been marked out in its general features. The Sun — the Light — rises in the East. Light is a sim- ply self -involved existence; but though possessing thus in itself universality, it exists at the same time as an individ- uality in the Sun. Imagination has often pictured to itself the emotions of a blind man suddenly becoming possessed of sight, beholding the bright glimmering of the dawn, the growing light, and the flaming glory of the ascending Sun. The boundless forgetfulness of his individuality in this pure splendor, is his first feeling — utter astonishment. But when the Sun is risen, this astonishment is diminished; objects around are perceived, and from them the individual pro- ceeds to the contemplation of his own inner being, and thereby the advance is made to the perception of the relation between the two. Then inactive contemplation is quitted for activity; by the close of day man has erected a building constructed from his own inner Sun; and when in the even- ing he contemplates this, he esteems it more highly than the original external Sun. For now he stands in a conscious relation to his Spirit, and therefore a free relation. If we hold this image fast in mind, we shall find it symbolizing the course of History, the great Day's work of Spirit. The History of the World travels from Bast to West, for Europe is absolutely the end of History, Asia the beginning. The History of the World has an Bast xar' 'efoj^ji* (the term East in itself is entirely relative); for although the Barth (163) 164 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY forms a sphere, History perforins no circle round it, but has on the contrary a determinate Bast, viz. Asia. Here rises the outward physical Sun, and in the West it sinks down: here consentaneously rises the Sun of self-consciousness, which diffuses a nobler brilliance. The History of the World is the discipline of the uncontrolled natural will, bringing it into obedience to a Universal principle and con- ferring subjective freedom. The East knew and to the present day knows only that One is Free; the Greek and Eoman world, that some are free ; the German World knows that All are free. The first political form therefore which we observe in History is Despotism, the second Democracy and Aristocracy, the third Monarchy. To understand this division we must remark that as the State is the universal spiritual life, to which individuals by birth sustain a relation of confidence and habit, and in which they have their existence and reality — the first question is, whether their actual life is an unreflecting use and habit combining them in this unity, or whether its constituent individuals are reflective and personal beings having a prop- erly subjective and independent existence. In view of this, substantial '[objective] freedom must be distinguished from subjective freedom. Substantial freedom is the abstract un- developed Eeason implicit in volition, proceeding to develop itself in the State. But in this phase of Eeason there is still wanting personal insight and will, that is, subjective free- dom; which is realized only in the Individual, and which constitutes the reflection of the Individual in his own con- science.' Where there is merely substantial freedom, com- 1 The essence of Spirit is self-determination or "Freedom." Where Spirit has attained mature growtih, as in the man who acknowledges the absolute validity of the dictates of Conscience, the Individual is "a law to himself," and his Freedom is "realized." But in lower stages of morality and civiliza- tion, he imconscieuaVy pro§e.nd bodv. All the ideals of princes and of princely educar 186 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY tion which have been so numerous and varied since the ap- pearance of Fenelon's "Telemaque" are realized here. In Europe there can be no Solomons. But here is the place and the necessity for such government ; since the rectitude, the prosperity, the security of all, depend on the one im- pulse given to the first link in the entire chain of this hierarchy. The deportment of the Emperor is represented to us as in the highest degree simple, natural, noble and intelligent. Free from a proud taciturnity or repelling hau- teur in speech or manners, he lives in the consciousness of his own dignity and in the exercise of imperial duties to whose observance he has been disciplined from his earliest youth. Besides the imperial dignity there is properly no elevated rank, no nobility among the Chinese; only the princes of the imperial house, and the sons of the minis- ters, enjoy any precedence of the kind, and- they rather by their position than by their birth. Otherwise all are equal, and only those have a share in the administration of affairs who have ability for it. Official stations are therefore occu- pied by men of the greatest intellect and education. The Chinese State has consequently been often set up as an Ideal which may serve even us for a model. The next thing to be considered is the administration of the Empire. We cannot speak, in reference to China, of a Constitution; for this would imply that individuals and corporations have independent rights — partly in respect of their particular interests, partly in respect of the entire State. This element must be wanting here, and we can only speak of an administration of the Empire'. In China, we have the reality of absolute equality, and all the differ- ences that exist are possible only in connection with that administration, and in virtue of the worth which a person may acquire, enabling him to fill a high post in the Govern- ment. Since equality prevails in China, but without any freedom, despotism is necessarily the mode of government. Among us, men are equal only before the law, and in the respect paid to the property of each; but they have also THE ORIENTAL WORLD 187 many interests and peculiar privileges, which must be guar- anteed, if we are to have what we call freedom. But in the Chinese Empire these special interests enjoy no considera- tion on their own account, and the government proceeds from the Emperor alone, who sets it in movement as a hierarchy of officials or Mandarins. Of these, there are two kinds — learned and military Mandarins — the latter cor- responding to our Officers. The Learned Mandarins consti- tute the higher rank, for, in China, civilians take precedence of the military. Government officials are educated at the schools; elementary schools are instituted for obtaining elementary knowledge. Institutions for higher cultivation, such as our Universities, may, perhaps, be said not to exist. Those who wish to attain high official posts must undergo several examinations — usually three in number. To the third and last examination — at which the Emperor himself is present — only those can be admitted who have passed the first and second with credit; and the reward for having succeeded in this is the immediate introduction into the highest Council of the Empire. The sciences, an ac- quaintance with which is especially required, are the His- tory of the Empire, Jurisprudence, and the science of cus- toms and usages, and of the organization and administration of government. Besides this, the Mandarins are said to have a talent for poetry of the most refined order. We have the means of judging of this, particularly from the Romance, Ju-kiao-U, or, "The Two Cousins," translated by Abfel Eemusat: in this, a youth is introduced who, having fin- ished his studies, is endeavoring to attain high dignities. The officers of the army, also, must have some mental ac- quirements; they too are examined: but civil functionaries enjoy, as stated above, far greater respect. At the great festivals the Emperor appears with a retinue of two thou- sand Doctors, i.e. Mandarins in Civil Offices, and the same number of military Mandarins. (In the whole Chinese State, there are about 15,000 civil, and 20,000 military Mandarins.) The Mandarins who have not yet obtained an office, never- <88 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY theless belong to the Court, and are obliged to appear at the great festivals in the Spring and Autumn, when the Em- peror himself guides the plow. These functionaries are divided into eight cksses. The first are those that attend the Emperor, then follow the viceroys, and so on. The Emperor governs by means of administrative bodies, for the most parf composed of Mandarins. The Council of the Empire is the highest body of the kind: it consists of the most learned and talented men. From these are chosen the presidents of the other colleges. The greatest publicity prevails in the business, of government. The subordinate officials report to the Council of the Empire, and the lattef lay the matter before the Emperor, whose decision is made known in the Court Journal. The Emperor often accused himself of faults; and should his princes have been unsuc- cessful in their examination, he blames them severely. In every Ministry, and in various parts of the Empire, there is a Censor {Ko-lao), who has to give the Emperor an account of everything. These Censors enjoy a permanent office, and are very much feared. They exercise a strict surveillance over everything that concerns the government, and the pub- lic and private conduct of the Mandarins, and make their report immediately to the Emperor. They have also the right of remonstrating with and blaming him. The Chinese History gives many examples of the noble-mindedness and courage of these Ko-taos. For example: A Censor had remonstrated with a tyrannical sovereign, but had been severely repulsed. Nevertheless, he was not turned away from his purpose, but betook himself once more to the Emperor to renew his remonstrances. Foreseeing his deatih, he had the coffin brought in with him, in which he was to be buried. It is related of the Censors, that — cruelly lacerated by the torturers and unable to utter a sound — they have even written their animadversions with their own blood in the sand. These Censors themselves form yet another Tri- bunal which has the oversight of the whole Empire. The Mandarins are responsible also for performing duties arising THE ORIENTAL WORLD 189 from unforeseen exigencies in the State. If famine, disease, conspiracy, religious disturbances occur, they have to report the facts ; not, however, to wait for further orders from gov- ernment, but immediately to act as the case requires. The whole of the administration is thus covered by a network of officials. Functionaries are appointed to superintend the roads, the rivers, and the coasts. Everything is arranged with the greatest minuteness. In particular, great attention is paid to the rivers; in Shu -King are to be found many edicts of the Emperor, designed to secure the land from inundations. The gates of every town are guarded by a watch, and the streets are barred all night. Government officers are always answerable to the higher Council. Every Mandarin is also bound to make known the faults he has committed, every five years ; and the trustworthiness of his statement is attested by a Board of Control — -the Censorship. In the case of any grave crime not confessed, the Mandarins and their families are punished most severely. From all this it is clear that the Emperor is the centre, around which everything turns; consequently the well-being of the coun- try and people depends on him. The whole hierarchy of the administration works more or less according to a settled routine, which in a peaceful condition of things becomes a convenient habit. Uniform and regular, like the course of nature, it goes its own way, at one time as at another time ; but the Emperor is required to be the moving, ever wake- ful, spontaneously active Soul. If then the personal char- acter of the Emperor is not of the order described — namely, thoroughly moral, laborious, and while maintaining dignity, full of energy — everything is relaxed, and the government is paralyzed from head to foot, and given over to carelessness and caprice. For there is no other legal power or institution extant but this superintendence and oversight of the Em- peror. It is not their own conscience, their own honor, which keeps the officers of government up to their duty, but an external mandate and the severe sanctions by which it is supported. In the instance of the revolution that occurred 190 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTOBY in the middle of the seventeenth century, the last Emperor of the dynasty was very amiaHe and honorable; but through the mildness of his character, the reins of government were relaxed, and disturbances naturally ensued. The Tebels called the Mantchoos into the -country. The •Emperor killed himself to avoid falling into the hands of his ene- mies, and with his blood wrote on the border of his daugh- ter's robe a few words, in wbicb he complained bitterly of the injustice of his subjects. A Mandarin, who was with him, buried him, and then killed himself on his grave. The Empress and iher attendants followed the example. The last prince of the imperial house, who was besieged in a distant province, fell into the hands of the enemy and was put to death. All the other attendant Mandarins died a voluntary dealih. Passing from the administration to the Jvirisprudence of China, we find the subjects 'regarded as in a state of nonage, in virtue of the principle of patriarchal government. Ko independent classes or orders, as in India; have interests of theiT own to defend. All is directed and superintended from above. All legal relations are definitely aet4;led by rules; free sentiment — the moral standpoint generally — is thereby thoroughly obliterated." It is formally determined by the laws in what way the members of the family should be disposed toward each other, and the transgression of tbese laws entails in some cases severe punishment. The second point to be noticed here, is the legal externality of the Family relations, which becomes almost slavery. Every one bas the power of selling himself and his chil- dren; every Chinese buys his wife. Only the chief wife is a free woman. The conenbines are slaves, and — like ' It, is -evident ithat -the term "moral standpoint" is used herein the strict sense in which Heg^l.haa defined it, in his "Philosophy of Law," as that of the Bfllf-determination of sulsjectivity, Jfree eonvicUon 6t the Good. The reader, therefore, should not imisiindfltBtaDd the use that continues to be made of the terms, morahty, moral government, etc., in reference to the Chinese; as they ^denote morality only in the loose andordihary meaning of the word — 'precepts or commands .given with a view to proftuoing good beharaiop — without ibtinging into relief the element o£ internal conviction. — Ed. THE ORIENTAL WORLD 191 the children and every other chattel — may be seized upon in case of confiscation. A third point is, that punishments are generally corporal chastisements. Among us, this would be an insult to honor ; not so in China, where the feeling of honor has not yet developed itself. A dose of cudgelling is the most easily forgotten; yet it is the severest punishment for a man of honor, who desires not to be esteemed physically assailable, but who is vulnerable in directions implying a more refined sensibility. But the Chinese do not recognize a subjectivity in honor; they are the subjects rather of corrective than retributive punishment — as are children among us ; for cor- rective punishment aims at improvement, that which is retributive implies veritable imputation of guilt. In the corrective, the deterring principle is only the fear of punish- ment, not any consciousness of wrong; for here we cannot presume upon any reflection upon the nature of the action itself. Among the Chinese all crimes — those committed against the laws of the Family relation, as well as against the State — are punished externally. Sons who fail in pay- ing due honor to their Father or Mother, younger brothers who are not sufficiently respectful to elder ones, are bastina- doed. If a son complains of injustice done to him by his father, or a younger brother by an elder, he receives a hun dred blows with a bamboo, and is banished for three years, if he is in the right; if not, he is strangled. If a son should raise his hand against his father, he is condemned to have his flesh torn from his body with red-hot pincers. The re- lation between husband and wife is, like all other family relations, very highly esteemed, and unfaithfulness — which, however, on account of the seclusion in which the women are kept, can very seldom present itself — meets With severe animadversion. Similar penalties await the exhibition on the part of a Chinese of greater affection to one of his in- ferior wives than to the matron who heads his establishment, should the latter complain of such disparagement. In China, every Mandarin is authorized to inflict blows with the bam- 192 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY boo; even theMgliest and most illustrious — Ministers, Vice- roys, and even the favorites of the Emperor himself-^are punished in this fashion. The friendship of the Emperor is not withdrawn on account of such chastisement, and they themselves appear not sensibly touched by it. When, on one occasion, the last English embassy to China was con- ducted home from the palace by the princes and their retinue, the Master of the Ceremonies, in order to make room, without any ceremony cleared the way among the princes and nobles with a whip. As regards responsibility, the distinction between malice prepense and blameless or accidental commission of an act is not regarded; for accident among the Chinese i$ as much charged with blame as intention. Death is the pmialty of accidental homicide. This ignoring of the distinction be- tween accident and intention occasions most of the disputes between the English and the Chinese; for should the former be attacked by the latter — should a ship of war, believing itself attacked, defend itself, and a Chinese be killed as the consequence — the Chinese are accustomed to require that the Englishman who fired the fatal shot should lose his life. Every one who is in any way connected with the trans- gressor, shares — especially in the case of crimes against the Emperor — the ruin of the actual ofEender: all his near kins- men are tortured to death. The printers of an objectionable book and those who read it are similarly exposed to the vengeance of the law. The direction which this state of things gives to private revenge is singular. It may be said of the Chinese that they are extremely sensitive to injuries and of a vindictive nature. To satisfy bis revenge the offended person does not venture ta kill his opponent, be- cause the whole family of the assaissin would be put to death; he therefore inflicts an injury on himself, to ruin his adversary. In many towns it has been deemed necessary to contract the openings of wells, to put a stop to suicides' by drowning. For when any one has committed suicide, the laws ordain that the strictest investigation shall be made THE ORIENTAL WORLD 193 into the cause. All the enemies of the fiuicide are arrested and put to the torture, and if the person who has comimitted the insult which led to the act can be discovered, he and his whole family are executed. In case of insult, therefore, a Chinese prefers killing himself jather than his opponent; since in either case he must die, but in the former contin- gency will have the due honors of burial, and may cherish the hope that his family will acquire the property of his adversary. Such is the fearful state of things in regard to responsibility and non-responsibility; all subjective freedom and moral concernment with an action is ignored. In the Mosaic Laws, where the distinction between dolus, culpa, and casus is also not yet clearly recoguized, there is never- theless an asylum opened for the innocent homicide, to which he may betake himself. — There is in China no dis- tinction in the penal code between higher and lower classes. A field-marshal of the Empire, who had very much distin- guished liimself, was traduced on some account to the Em- peror; and the punishment for the alleged crime was that he should be a spy upon those who did not fulfil their duty in clearing away the snow from the streets. — Among the legal relations of the Chinese we have also to notice changes in the rights of possession and the introduction of slavery, which is connected there with it. The soil of China, in which the chief possessions of tke Chinese consist, was regarded only at a late epoch as essentially the property of the State. At that time the Ninth of all moneys from estates was allotted by law to the Emperor. At a still later epoch serf- dom was established, and its enactment has been ascribed to the Emperor Shi-hoang-ti, who, in the year 218 B.C., built the Great Wall ; who had all the writings that recorded the ancient rights of the Chinese burned; and who brought many independent principalities of China under his domin- ion. His wars caused the conquered lands to become private property, and the dwellers on these lands, serfs. In China, however, the distinction between Slavery and freedom is necessarily not great, since all are equal before the Emperor '—Science — 9 194 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY — that is, all are alike degraded. As no honor exists, and no one has an individual right in respect of others, the consciousness of debasement predominates, and this easily passes into that of utter abandonment. With this abandon- ment is connected the great immorality of the Chinese. They are notorious for deceiving wherever they can. Friend deceives friend, and no one resents the attempt at deception on the part of another, if the deceit has not succeeded in its object, or comes to the knowledge of the person sought to be defrauded. Their frauds are most astutely and craftily performed, so that Europeans have to be painfully cautious in dealing with them. Their consciousness of moral aban- donment shows itself also in the fact that the religion of Fo is so widely difEused; a religion which regards as the Highest and Absolute — as God — pure Nothing; which se"t8 up contempt for individuality, for personal existence, as the highest perfection. We come, then, to the consideration of the religious side of the Chinese Polity. In the patriarchal condition the re- ligious exaltation of man has merely a human reference — simple morality and right-doing. The Absolute itself is regarded partly as the abstract, simple rule of this right- doing — eternal rectitude; partly as the power which is its sanction. Except in these simple aspects, all the relations of the natural world, the postulates of subjectivity — of heart and soul — are entirely ignored. The Chinese in their patri- archal despotism need no such connection or mediation with the Highest Being; for education, the laws of morality and courtesy, and the commands and government of the Emperor, embody all such connection and mediation as far as they feel the need of it. The Emperor, as he is the Supreme Head of the State, is also the Chief of its religion. Consequently, religion is in China essentially State-Religion. The distinc- tion between it and Lamaism must be observed, since the latter is not developed to a State, but contains religion as a' free, spiritual, disinterested consciousness. That Chinese religion, therefore, cannot be what we call religion. For to THE ORIENTAL WORLD 195 US religion means the retirement of the Spirit within itself, in contemplating its essential nature, its inmost Being. In these spheres, then, man is withdrawn from his relation to the State, and betaking himself to this retirement is able to release himself from the power of secular government. But in China religion has not risen to this grade, for true faith is possible only where individuals can seclude them- selves — can exist for themselves independently of any ex- ternal compulsory power. In China the individual has no such life; — does not enjoy this independence: in any direc- tion he is therefore dependent; in religion as well as in other things; that is, dependent on objects of nature, of which the most exalted is the material heaven. On this depend har- vest, the seasons of the year, the abundance and sterility of crops. The Emperor, as crown of all — the embodiment of power — alone approaches heaven; individuals, as such, enjoy no such privilege. He it is who presents the offer- ings at the four feasts ; gives thanks at the head of his court for the harvest, and invokes blessings on the sowing of the seed. This "heaven" might be taken in the sense of our term "God," as the Lord of Nature (we say, for example, "Heaven protect us I"); but such a relation is beyond the scope of Chinese thought, for here the one isolated self- consciousness is substantial being, the Emperor himself, the Supreme Power. Heaven has therefore no higher mean- ing than Nature. The Jesuits, indeed, yielded to Chinese notions so far as to call the Christian God, "Heaven" — "Tien"; but they were on that account accused to the Pope by other Christian Orders. The Pope consequently sent a Cardinal to China, who died there. A bishop who was subsequently despatched enacted that instead of "Heaven," the term "Lord of Heaven" should be adopted. The rela- tion to Tien is supposed to be such, that the good conduct of individuals and of the Emperor brings blessing; their transgressions on the other hand cause want and evil of all kinds. The Chinese religion involves that primitive ele- ment of magical influence over nature, inasmuch as human 196 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY conduct absolutely determines the course of events. If the Emperor behaves well, prosperity cannot but ensue ; Heaven must ordain prosperity. A second side of this religion is, that as the general aspect of the relation to Heaven is bound up with the person of the Emperor, he has also its more special bearings in his hands; viz. the particular well-being of individuals and provinces. These have each an appro- priate Genius (Chen), which is subject to the Emperor, who pays adoration -only to the general Power of Heaven, while the several Spirits of the natural world follow his laws. He is thus made the proper legislator for Heaven as well as for earth. To these Grenii, each of which enjoys a worship pecul- iar to itself, certain sculptured forms are assigned. These are disgusting idols, which have not yet attained the dignity of art, because nothing spiritual is represented in them. They are therefore only terrific, frightful and negative; they keep watch— as among the Greeks do the River-Gods, the Nymphs, and Dryads — over single elements and natural objects. Each of the five Elements has its genius, distin- guished by a particular color. The sovereignty of the dynasty that occupies the throne of China also depends on a Genius, and this one has a yellow color. Not less does every province and town, every mountain and river possess an appropriate Genius. All these Spirits are subordinate to the Emperor, and in the Annual Directory of the Empire are registered the functionaries and genii to whom such or such a brook, river, etc., has been intrusted. If a mis- chance occurs in any part, the Genius is deposed as a Man- darin would b,e. The Genii have innumerable temples (in Pekin nearly 10,000) to which a multitude of priests and convents are attached. These "Bonzes" live unmarried, and in all cases of distress are applied to by the Chinese for counsel. In other respects, however, neither they nor the temples are much venerated. Lord Macartney's Em- bassy was even quartered in a temple — such buildings being used as inns. The Emperor has sometimes thought fit to secularize many thousands of these convents; to compel THE ORIENTAL WORLD ' 197 the Bonzes to return to civil life; and; to impose taxes on tlie estates appertaining to the foundations. The Bonzes are soothsayers and exorcists: for the Chinese are given up to boundless superstitions. This arises from the want of sub- jective independence, and, presupposes the very opposite of freedom of Spirit. In every undertaking — e.g. if the site of a house, or of a grave, etc., is to be determined — the advice of the Soothsayers is asked. In the Y-King cer- tain lines are given, which supply fundamental forms; and categories — on account of which this book ia called the "Book of Fates." A certain meaning is ascribed to the com- bination of such lines, and prophetic announcements are de- duced from this groundwork. Or a number of little sticks are thrown into the air, and the fate in question is prognos- ticated from the way in which they fall.. What we regard as chance, as natural connection, the Chinese seek to deduce or attain by magical arts; and in this particular, also,, their want of spiritual religion is manifested. With this deficiency of genuine subjectivity is connected, moreover, the form which Chinese Science assumes. In mentioning Chinese sciences we encounter a considerable clamor about their perfection and antiquity. Approaching the subject more closely^ we see that the sciences enjoy very great respect, and that they are even publicly extolled and promoted by the Crovernment. The Emperor himseli stands at the apex of literature. A college exists whose special business it is to edit the decrees of the Emperor, with a view to their being composed in the best. style; and this redaction assumes the character of an important affair .of State. The MMidariits in their notifications have to. study the same per- fection of style, for the form is expected to correspond with the exeellence of the matter. One of the highest Govern- mental Boards is the Academy of Sciences. The Emperor himself examines its members; they live in the palace, and perform the functions of Secretaries, Historians of the Em- pire, Natural Philosophers, and Ge«^apl«erB.. Sliould a new law be proposed, the Academy must report upon it. 198 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY By way of introduction to such report it must give the his- tory of existing enactments ; or if the law in question affects foreign countries, a description of them is required. The Emperor himself writes the prefaces to the works thus com- posed. Among recent Emperors Kien- long especially distin- guished himself by his scientific acquirements. He himself wrote much, but became far more remarkable by publishing the principal works that China had produced. At the head of the commission appointed to correct the press was a Prince of the Empire; and after the work had passed through the hands of all, it came once more back to the Emperor, who severely punished every error that had been committed. Though in one aspect the sciences appear thus pre- eminently honored and fostered, there is wanting to them on the other side that free ground of subjectivity, and that^ properly scientific interest, which makes them a truly theo- retical occupation of the mind. A free, ideal, spiritual kingdom has here no place. What may be called scientific is of a merely empirical nature, and is made absolutely sub- servient to the Useful on behalf of the State — its require- ments and those of individuals. The nature of their Written Language is at the outset a great hindrance to the develop- ment of the sciences. Eather, conversely, because a true scientific interest does not exist the Chinese have acquired no better instrument for representing and imparting thought. They have, as is well known, besides a Spoken Language, a Written Language; which does not express, as ours does, individual sounds — does not present the spoken words to the eye, but represents the ideas themselves by signs. This appears at first sight a great advantage, and has gained the suffrages of many great men — among others, of Leibnitz. In reality it is anything but such. For if we consider, in the first place, the effect of such a mode of writing on the Spoken Language, we shall find this among the Chinese very imperfect, on account of that separation. For our Spoken Language is matured to distinctness chiefly through the THE ORIENTAL WORLD 199 necessity of finding signs for each single sound, which latter, by reading, we learn to express distinctly. The Chinese, to whom such a means of orthoepic development is wanting, do not mature the modifications of sounds in their language to distinct articulations capable of being rep- resented by letters and syllables. Their Spoken Language consists of an inconsiderable number of monosyllabic words, which are used with more than one signification. The sole methods of denoting distinctions of meaning are the connec- tion, the accent, and the pronunciation — quicker or slower, softer or louder. The ears of the Chinese have become very sensible to such distinctions. Thus I find that the "word Po has eleven different meanings according to the tone: denoting "glass" — "to boil" — "to winnow wheat" — "to cleave asander" — "to water" — "to prepare" — "an old woman" — "a slave" — "a liberal man" — "a wise person" — • "a little. " — As to their Written Language, I will specifj' only the obstacles which it presents to the advance of the sciences. Our Written Language is very simple for a learner, as we analyze our Spoken Language into about twenty-five articulations, by which analysis speech is ren- dered definite, the multitude of possible sounds is limited, and obscure intermediate sounds are banished: we have to learn only these signs and their combinations. Instead of twenty-five signs of this sort, the Chinese have many thousands to learn. The number necessary for use is reck- oned at 9,353, or even 10,516, if we add those recently intro- duced; and the number of characters generally, for ideas and their combinations as they are presented in books, amounts to from 80 to 90,000. As to the sciences them- selves, History among the Chinese comprehends the bare and definite facts, without any opinion or reasoning upon them. In the same way their Jurisprudence gives only fixed laws, and their Ethics only determinate duties, without raising- the question of a subjective foundation for them. The Chinese have, however, in addition to other sciences, a Philosophy, whose elementary principles are of great antiquity, since the 200 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Y-King — the Book of Fates — treats of Origimatioii and De- struction. In this book are found the purely abstract ideas of Unity and Duality; the Philosophy of the Chinese ap- pears therefore to proceed from the same fundamental ideas as that of Pythagoras.' The fundamental principle recog- nized is Reason — Taa; that essence lying at the basis of the whole, which effects everything. To become acquainted with its forms is regarded among the Chinese also as the highest science; yet this has no connection with the educa- tional pursuits which more nearly concern the State. The works of Lao-tse, and especially his work "Tao-te-King," are celebrated. Confucius visited this pMlosopher in the sixth century before Christ, to testify his reverence for him. Although every Chinaman is at liberty to study these philosophical works, a particular sect,, calling itself Tao-tse, "Honorers of Eeason," makes this study its special business. Those who compose it are isolated from civil life; and there is much that is enthusiastic and mystic intermingled with their views. They believe, for instance, that he who is ac- quainted with Eeason, possesses an instrument of universal power, which may be regarded as stll-powerful, and which communicates a supernatural might; so that the possessor is enabled by it to exalt himself to Heaven, and is not subject to death (much the same as the universal Elixir of Life once talked of among us). With the works of Confucius we have become more intimately acquainted. To him, China owes the publication of the Kings, and many original works on Morality besides, which form the basis of the customs and conduct of the Chinese. In the principal work of Confucius, which has been translated into English, are found correct moral apothegms; but there is a circumlocution, a reflex character, and circuitousness in the thought, which prevents it from rising above mediocrity. As to the other sciences, they are not regarded as such, but rather as branches of knowledge for the behoof of practical ends. The Chinese ' Vide Hegel'B "Yorlesungen iiber die Gresohichte der Kuloaoi^e," vol. i. p. 138, etc. THE ORIENTAL WORLD 201 are far behind in Mathematics, Physics, and Astronomy, notwithstanding their quondam reputation in regard to them. They knew many things at a time when Europeans had not discovered them, but they have not understood how to apply their knowledge: as e.g. the Magnet, and the Art of Printing. But they have made no advance in the appli- cation of these discoveries. In the latter, for instance, they continue to engrave the letters in wooden blocks and then print them off: they know nothing of movable types. Grun- powder, too, they pretended to have invented before the Europeans: but the Jesuits were obliged to found their first cannon. As to Mathematics, they understand well enough how to reckon, but the higher aspect of the science is unknown. The Chinese also have long passed as great astronomers. Laplace has investigated their acquisitions in this department, and discovered that they possess some ancient accounts and notices of Lunar and Solar Eclipses; but these certainly do not constitute a science. The notices in question are, moreover, so indefinite, that they cannot properly be put in the category of knowledge. In the Shu- King, e.g., we have two eclipses of the sun mentioned in a space of 1500 years. The best evidence of the state of Astronomy among the Chinese, is the fact that for many hundred years the Chinese calendars have been made by Europeans. In earlier times when Chinese astronomers con- tinued to compose the calendar, false announcements of lunar and solar eclipses often occurred, entailing the execu- tion of the authors. The telescopes which the Chinese have received as presents from the Europeans are set up for ornament; but they have not an idea how to make further use of them. Medicine, too, is studied by the Chinese, but only empirically; and the grossest superstition is connected with its practice. The Chinese have, as a general character- istic, a remarkable skill in imitation, which is exercised not merely in daily life, but also in art. They have not yet succeeded in representing the beautiful, as beautiful; for in their painting, perspective and shadow are wanting. And 202 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY although a Chinese painter copies European pictures (as the Chinese do everything else) correctly; although he observes accurately how many scales a carp has; how many indenta- tions there are in the leaves of a tree; what is the form of various trees, and how the branches bend; — the. Exalted, the Ideal and Beautiful is not the domain of his art and skill. The Chinese are, on the other haad, too proud to learn anything from Europeans, although they must often recognize their superiority. A merchant in Canton had a European ship built, but at the command of the Governor it was immediately destroyed. The Europeans are treated as beggars, because they are compelled to leave their home, and seek for support elsewhere than in their own country. Besides, the Europeans, just because of their intelligence, have not yet been able to imitate the superficial and perfectly natural cleverness of the Chinese. Their preparation of var- nishes — their working of metals, and especially their art of casting them extremely thin — their porcelain manufacture and many other things, have not yet been completely mas- tered by Europeans. This is the character of the Chinese people in its various aspects. Its distinguishing feature is, that everything which belongs to Spirit — unconstrained morality, in practice and theory. Heart, inward Religion, Science, and Art properly so called — is alien to it. The Emperor always speaks with majesty and paternal kindness and tenderness to the people ; who, however, cherish the meanest opinion of themselves, and believe that they are born only to drag the car of Imperial Power. The burden which presses them to the ground seems to them to be their inevitable destiny; and it appears nothing terrible to them to sell themselves as slaves, and to eat the bitter bread of slavery. Suicide, the result of revenge, and the exposure of children, as a common, even daily occurrence, show the little respect in which they hold themselves individually, and humanity in general. And though there is no distinction conferred by birth, and every one can attain the highest dignity, this very equality testifies THE ORIENTAL WORLD 203 to no triumphant assertion of the worth of the inner man, but a servile consciousness — one which has not yet matured itself so far as to recognize distinctions. SECTION II INDIA India, like China, is a phenomenon antique as well as modern ; one which has remained stationary and fixed, and has received a most perfect home-sprung development. It has always been the land of imaginative aspiration, and appears to us still as a Fairy region, an enchanted World. In contrast with the Chinese State, which presents only the most prosaic Understanding,' India is the region of fantasy and sensibility. The point of advance in princi- ple which it exhibits to us may be generally stated as fol- lows: In China the patriarchal principle rules a people in a condition of nonage, the part of whose moral resolution is occupied by the regulating law, and the moral oversight of the Emperor. Now it is the interest of Spirit that exter- nal conditions should become internal ones ; that the natural and the spiritual world should be recognized in the subjec- tive aspect belonging to intelligence ; by which process the unity of subjectivity and [positive] Being generally — or the Idealism of Existence — is established. This Idealism, then, is found in India, but only as an Idealism of imagina- tion, without distinct conceptions; — one which does indeed free existence from Beginning and Matter [liberates it from temporal limitations and gross materiality], but changes everything into the merely Imaginative; for although the latter appears interwoven with definite conceptions and Thought presents itself as an occasional concomitant, this happens only through accidental combination. Since, how- ever, it is the abstract and absolute Thought itself that ' "VerBtand" — "receptive understanding," in contrast with "Vernunft" — "substantial and creative intellect." — Tr. 204 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY enters into these dreams as tkeir material, we may say that Absolute Being is presented here as in the ecstatic state of a dreaming condition. For we have not the dream- ing of an actual Individual, possessing distinct personality, and simply unfettering the latter from limitation, but we have the dreaming of the unlimited absolute Spirit. There is a beauty of a peculiar kind in women, in which their countenance presents a transparency of skin, a light and lovely roseate hue, which is unlike the complexioa of mere health and vital vigor — a more refined bloom, breathed, as it were, by the soul within — and in which the features, the light of the eye, the position of the mouth, appear soft, yieldiiig, and relaxed. This almost unearthly beauty is perceived in women in those days which immediately succeed childbirth; when freedom from the burden of pregnancy and the pains of travail is added to the joy of soul that welcomes the gift of a beloved infant. A similar tone of beauty is seen also in women during the magical somnambulic sleep, connecting them with a world of superterrestrial beauty. A great artist (Schoreel) has moreover given this tone to the d.ying Mary, whose spirit is already rising to the regions of the blessed, but once more, as it were, lights up her dying countenance for a farewell kiss. Such a beauty we find also in its loveliest form in the Indian World; a beauty of enervation in whicli all that is rough, rigid and contradictory is dissolved,, and we have only the soul in a state of emotion — a soul, however, in which the death of free self-reliant Spirit is perceptible. For should we approach the charm of this Flower-Jife— ^a charm rich in imagination and genius — in which its whole environment and all its relations are permeated by the rose- breath of the Soul, and the World is transformed into a Garden of Love — should we look at it more closely, and examine it in the light of Human Dignity and Freedom — the more attractive the first sight of it had been, so much the more unworthy shall we ultimately find it in every respect. The character of Spirit in a state of Dream, as the generic THE ORIENTAL WORLD 205 principle of the Hindoo Nature, must be further defined. In a dream, the individual ceases to be oomscious of self as suoh, in contradistinction from objective existences. When awake, I exist for myself, and the rest of creation is an ex- ternal, fixed objectivity, as I myself am for it. . As external, the rest of existence expands itself to a rationally connected whole; a system of relations, in which my individual being is itself a member — an individual being united with that totaliliy. This is the sphere of Understanding. In the state of dreaming, on the contrary, this separation is suspended. Spirit has ceased to exist for itself in contrast with alien existence, and thus the separation of the external and in- dividual dissolves before its universality — its essence. The dreaming Indian is therefore all that we call finite and in- dividual; and, at the same time — as infinitely universal and unlimited — a something intrinsically divine. The Indian view of things is a Universal Pantheism, a Pantheism, how- ever, of Imagination, not of Thought. One substance per- vades the Whole of things, and all individualizations are directly vitalized and animated into particular Powers. The sensuous matter and content is in each case simply and in the rough taken up, and carried over into the sphere of the Universal and Immeasurable. It is not liberated by the free power of Spirit into a beautiful form, and idealized in the Spirit, so that the sensuous might be a merely subservient and compliant expression of the spiritual ; but [the sensuous object itself] is 'expanded into the immeasurable and unde- fined, and the Divine is thereby made bizarre, confused, and ridiculous. These dreams are not mere fables — a play of the imagination, in which the soul only revelled in fantastic gambols: it is lost in them; hurried to and fro by these reveries, as by something that exists really and seriously for it. It is delivered over to these limited objects as to its Lords and Gods. Everything, therefore — Sun, Moon, Stars, the Ganges, the Indus, Beasts, Flowers — everything is a God to it. And while, in this deification, the finite loses its con- sisteacy and substantiality, intelligent conception of it is 206 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY impossible. Conversely the Diviae, regarded as essentially changeable and unfixed, is also, by the base form which it assumes, defiled and made absurd. In this universal deifi- cation of all finite existence, and consequent degradation of the Divine, the idea of Theanthropy, the incarnation of Grod, is not a particularly important conception. The par- rot, the cow, the ape, etc., are likewise incarnations of God, yet are not therefore elevated above their nature. The Di- vine is not individualized to a subject, to concrete Spirit, but degraded to vulgarity and senselessness. This gives us a general idea of the Indian view of the Universe. Things are as much stripped of rationality, of finite consistent sta- bility of cause and efEect, as man is of the steadfastness of free individuality, of personality, and freedom. Externally, India sustains manifold relations to the His- tory of the World. In recent times the discovery has been made, that the Sanscrit lies at the foundation of all those further developments which form the languages of Europe; e.g. the Greek, Latin, German. India, moreover, was the centre of emigration for all the western world; but this ex- ternal historical relation is to be regarded rather as a merely physical difEusion of peoples from this point. Although in India the elements of further developments might be discov- ered, and although we could find traces of their being trans- mitted to the West, this transmission has been nevertheless so abstract [so superficial], that that which among later peo- ples attracts our interest, is not anything derived from India, but rather something concrete, which they themselves have formed, and in regard to which they have done their best to forget Indian elements of culture. The spread of Indian culture is pre-historical, for History is limited to that which makes an essential epoch in the development of Spirit. On the whole, the diffusion of Indian culture is only a dumb, deedless expansion; that is, it presents no political action. The people of India have achieved no foreign conquests, but have been on every occasion vanquished themselves. And as, in this silent way, Northern India has been a centre of THE ORIENTAL WORLD 207 emigration, productive of merely physical diffusion, India as a Land of Desire forms an essential element in General History. From the most ancient times downward, all na- Jjions have directed their wishes and longings to gaining access to the treasures of this land of marvels, the most costly which the Earth presents; treasures of Nature — pearls, diamonds, perfumes, rose-essences, elephants, lions, etc. — as also treasures of wisdom. The way by which these treas- ures have passed to the West has at all times been a mat- ter of World- historical importance, bound up with the fate of nations. Those wishes have been realized; this Land of Desire has been attained; there is scarcely any great nation of the East, nor of the Modern European West, that has not gained for itself a smaller or larger portion of it. In the old world, Alexander the Great was the first to penetrate by land to India, but even he only just touched it. The Euro- peans of the modern world have been able to enter into direct connection with this land of marvels only circuitously from the other side; and by way of the sea, which, as has been said, is the general uniter of countries. The English, or rather the East India Company, are the lords of the land ; for it is the necessary fate of Asiatic Empires to be subjected to Europeans; and China will, some day or other, be obliged to submit to this fate. The number of inhabitants is near 200 millions, of whom from 100 to 112 millions are directly subject to the English. The Princes who are not immedi- ately subject to them have English Agents at their Courts, and English troops in their pay. Since the country of the Mahrattas was conquered by the English, no part of India has asserted its independence of their sway. They have already gained a footing in the Birman Empire, and passed the Burrampooter, which bounds India on the east. India Proper is the country which the English divide into two large sections: the Deccan — the great peninsula which has the Bay of Bengal on the east, and the Indian Sea on the west — and Hindostan, formed by the valley of the Qanges, and extending in the direction of Persia. To 208 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY the northeast, Hindostan -is bordered by the Himalaya, which has been ascertained by Europeans to be the high- est mountain range in the world, for its summits are about 26,000 feet above the level of the sea. On the other side of the mountains the level again declines; the dominion of the Chinese extends to that point, and when the English wished to go to Lassa to the Dalai-Lama, they were prevented by the Chinese. Toward the west of India flows the Indus, in which the five rivers are united, which are called the Pentjdh (Punjab), into which Alexander the Great penetrated. The dominion of the English does not extend to the Indus; the sect of the Sikhs inhabits that district, whose constitution is thoroughly democratic, and who have broken off from the Indian as well as from the Mohammedan religion, and occupy an intermediate ground — acknowledging only one Supreme Being. They are a powerful nation, and have reduced to subjection Cabul and Cashmere. Besides these there dwell along the Indus genuine Indian tribes of the Warrior-Caste. Between the Indus and its twin-brother, the Ganges, are great plains. The Ganges, on the other hand, forms large Kingdoms around it, in which the sci- ences have been so highly developed that the countries around the Ganges enjoy a still greater reputation than those around the Indus. The Kingdom of Bengal is espe- cially flourishing. The Nerbuddah forms the boundary be- tween the, Deccan and Hindostan. The peninsula of the Deccan presents a far greater variety than Hindostan, and its rivers possess almost as great a sanctity as the Indus and the Ganges — which latter has become a general name for all the rivers in India, as the River xar' e^o^^^v. We call the inhabitants of the great country which we have now to consider Indians, from the river Indus (the English call them Hindoos). They themselves have never given a name to the whole, for it has never become one Empire, and yet we consider it as such. With regard to the political life of the Indians, we must first consider the advance it presents in contrast with China. THE ORIENTAL WORLD 209 In Chiiia there prevailed an equality among all the indirid- uals compoeing the envpire; consequently all government was absorbed in its centre, the Emperor, so that individaal members could not attain to independence and subjective freedom. The next degree in advance of this Unity is Dif- ference, maintaining its independence against the all-subdu- ing power of Unity. An organic life requires in the first place One Soul, and in the second place, a divergence into differences, which become organic members, and in their several offices develop themselves to a complete system; in such a way, however, that their activity reconstitutes that one soul. This freedom of separation is wanting in China. The deficiency is that diversities cannot attain to indepen- dent existence. In this respect, the essential advance is made in India, viz. that independent members ramify from the unity of despotic power. Yet the distinctions which these imply are referred' to Nature. Instead of stimulating the activity of a soul as their centre of union, and spontane- ously realizing that soul — as is the case in organic life — they petrify and become rigid, and by their stereotyped character condemn the Indian people to the most degrading spiritual serfdom. The distinctions in question are the Castes. In every rational State there are distinctions which must mani- fest themselves. Individuals must arrive at subjective free- dom, and, in doing so, give an objective form to these diver- sities. But Indian culture has not attained to a recognition of freedom and inward morality ; the distinctions which pre- vail are only those of occupations, and civil conditions. In a free state', also, such diversities give rise to particular classes, so combined, however, that their members can maintain their individuality. In India we have only a division in masses — a division, however, that influences the whole political life and the religious consciousness. The distinctions of class, like that [rigid] Unity in China, remain consequently on the same original grade of substan- tiality, i.e. they are not the result of the free subjectivity of individuals. Examining the idea of a State and its various 210 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY functions, we recognize the first essential function as that whose scope is the absolutely Universal ; of which man be- comes conscious first in Keligion, then in Science. God, the Divine [to deiov] is the absolutely Universal. The highest class therefore will be the one by which the Divine is pre- sented and brought to bear on the community— the class of Brahmins. The second element or class will represent sub- jective power and valor. Such power must assert itself, in order that the whole may stand its ground, arid retain its integrity against other such totalities or states. This class is that of the Warriors and Governors — the Cshatriyas ; al- though Brahmins often become governors. The third order of occupation recognized is that which is concerned with the specialities of life — the satisfying of its necessities — and comprehends agriculture, crafts and trade; the class of the Vaisyas. Lastly, the fourth element is the class of service, the mere instrument for the comfort of others, whose busi- ness it is to work for others for wages affording a scanty subsistence — the caste of Sudras. This servile class — prop- erly speaking — constitutes ,no special organic class in the state, because its members only serve individuals: their occupations are therefore dispersed among them and are consequently attached to that of the previously mentioned castes. — Against the existence of "classes" generally, an objection has been brought — especially in modern times — drawn from the consideration of the State in its "aspect" of abstract equity. But. equality in civil life is something absolutely impossible ; for individual distinctions of sex and age will always assert themselves ; and even ■ if an equal share in the government is accorded to all citizens, women and children are immediately passed by, and remain ex- cluded. The distinction between poverty and riches, the infldence of skill and talent, can be as little ignored — utterly refuting those abstract assertions. But while this principle leads us to put up with variety of occupations, and distinc- tion of the classes to which they are intrusted, we are met here in India by the peculiar circumstance that the Individ- THE ORIENTAL WORLD 211 ual belongs to such a class essentially by birth, and is bound to it for life. All the concrete vitality that makes its ap- pearance sinks back into death. A chain binds down the life that was just upon the point of breaking forth. The promise of freedom which these distinctions hold out is therewith completely nullified. What birth has separated mere arbitrary choice has no right to join together again: therefore, the castes, preserving distinctness from their very origin, are presumed not to be mixed or united by marriage. Yet even Arrian (Ind. 11) reckoned seven castes, and in later times more than thirty have been made out; which, notwithstanding all obstacles, have arisen from the union of the various classes. Polygamy necessarily tends to this. A Brahmin, e.g., is allowed three wives from the three other castes, provided he has first taken one from his own. The offspring of such mixtures originally belonged to no caste, but one of the kings invented a method of classifying these caste-less persons, which involved also the commencement of arts and manufactures. The children in question were assigned to particular employments; one section became weavers, another wrought in iron, and thus different classes arose from these different occupations. The highest of these mixed castes consists of those who are born from the mar- riage of a Brahmin with a wife of the Warrior caste; the lowest is that of the Chanddlas, who have to remove corpses, to execute criminals, and to perform impure offices gener- ally. The members of this caste are excommunicated and detested ; and are obliged to live separate and far from asso- ciation with others. The ChandSlas are obliged to move out of the way for their superiors, and a Brahmin may knock down any that neglect to do so. If a Chandala drinks out of a pond it is defiled, and requires to be consecrated afresh. We must next consider the relative position of these castes. Their origin is referred to a myth, which tells us that the Brahmin caste proceeded from Brahma's mouth; ' the Warrior caste from his arms ; the industrial classes from his loins; the servile caste from his foot. Many historians 212 TEE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY have set up the hypothesis that the Brahmins originally formed a separate sacerdotal nation, and this fable is espe- cially countenanced by the Brahmins themselves. A people consisting of priests alone is, assuredly, the greatest ab- surdity, for we know a priori, that a distinction of classes can exist only within a people ; in every nation the various occupations of life must present themselves, for they belong to the objectivity of Spirit. One class necessarily supposes another, and the rise of castes generally is only a result of the united life of a nation. A nation of priests cannot exist without agriculturists and soldiers. Classes cannot be brought together from without; they are developed only from within. They come forth from the interior of national life, and not conversely. But that these distinctions are here attributed to Nature, is a necessary result of the Idea which the East embodies. For while the individual ought properly to be empowered to choose his occupation, in the Bast, on the contrary, internal subjectivity is not yet recog- nized as independent; and if distinctions obtrude them- selves, their recognition is accompanied by the belief that the individual does not choose his particular position for himself, but receives it from Nature. In China the people are dependent — without distinction of classes — on the laws and moral decision of the Emperor; consequently on a human will. Plato, in his Republic, assigns the arrange- ment -in different classes, with a view to various occupations, to the choice of the governing body. Here, therefore,, a moral, a spiritual power is the arbiter. Iq India, Nature is this governing power. But this natural destiny need not have led to that degree of degradation which we observe here, if the distinctions had been limited to occupation with what is earthly — to forms of objective Spirit. In the feudal- ism of medieval times, individuals were also confined to a certain station in life; but for all there was a Higher Being, superior to the most exalted earthly dignity, and admission to holy orders was open to all. This is the grand distlnc-" tion, that here Religion holds the same posiliion toward all; THE ORIENTAL WORLD 213 that, although the son of a mechanic becomes a mechanic, the son of a peasant a peasant, and free choice is often limited by many restrictive circumstances, the religious element stands in the same relation to all, and all are in- vested with an absolute value by religion. In India the direct contrary is the case. Another distinction between the classes of society as they exist in the Christian world and those in Hindostan is the moral dignity which exists among us in every class, constituting that which man must possess in and through himself. In this respect the higher classes are equal to the lower ; and while religion is the higher sphere in which all sun themselves, equality before the law — rights of person and of property — are gained for every class. But by the fact that in India, as already ob- served, differences extend not only to the Objectivity of Spirit, but also to its absolute subjectivity, and thus exhaust all its relations — neither morality, nor justice, nor religiosity is to be found. Every caste has its especial duties and rights. Duties and rights, therefore, are not recognized as pertaining to mankind generally, but as those of a particular caste. While we say, "Bravery is a virtue," the Hindoos say, on the contrary, "Bravery is the virtue of the Oshatriyas." Humanity generally, human duty and human feeling do not manifest themselves; we find only duties assigned to the several castes. Everything is petrified into these distinc- tions, and over this petrifaction a capricious destiny holds sway. Morality and human dignity are unknown; evil passions have their filll swing; the Spirit wanders into the Dream-World, and the highest state is Annihilation. To gain a more accurate idea of what the Brahmins are, and in what the Brahminical dignity consists, we must investi- gate the Hindoo religion and the conceptions it involves, to which we shall have to return further on ; for the respective rights of castes have their basis in a religious relation. Brahma (neuter) is the Supreme in Religion, but there are besides chief divinities Brahmd (masc.) Vishnu or Krishna — 214 THE PSILOSOPHY OF HISTORY incarnate in infinitely diverse forms — and Siva. These form a connected Trinity. BrahmS is tiie higliest.-, but Vishnu or Krishna, Siva, ihe Sun moreover, the Air, etc., are also Brahm, i.e. Substantial Unity. To Brahm itself no sacri- fices are offered; it is not honored; but prayers are pre- sented to all other idols. Brahm itself is the Substantial Unity of All. The highest religious position of man, there- fore, is being exalted to Brahm. If a Brahmin is asked what Brahm is, he answers: When I fall back within myself, and close all external senses, and say dm to myself, that is Biahm. Abstract unity with God is realized in this abstrac- tion from humanity. An abstraction of this kind may in some cases leave everything else unobanged, as does devo- tional feeling, momentarily excited. But among the Hin- doos it holds'a negative position toward all that is concrete; and the highest state is supposed to be this exaltation, by which the Hindoo raises himself to deity. The Brahmins, in virtue of their birtb, are already in possession of the Divine. The distinction of castes involves, therefore, a dis- tinction between present deities and mere limited mortals. The other castes may likewise become partakers in a i?e- generation; but they must subject themselves to immense self-denial, torture and penance. Contempt of life, and of living humanity, is the chief feature in this ascesis. A large number of the non-Brahminical population strive to attain Regenercdion. They are called Yogis. An Englishman who, on a journey to Thibet to visit the Dalai-Lama, met such a Yogi, gives the following account: the Yogi was already on the second grade in his ascent to Brahminical dignity. He had passed the first grade by remaining for twelve years on his legs, without ever sitting or lying down. At first he had bound himself fast to a tree with a rope, until he had accustomed himself to sleep standing. The second grade squired him to keep tiis hands clasped together over his head for twelve years in succession. Already his nails had almost grown into his hands. The third grade is not always passed through in the same way; generally the Yogi has THE ORIENTAL WORLD 215 to spend a day between five fires, that is, between four fires occupying the four quarters of heaven, and the Sun. He must then swing backward and forward over the fire, a cere- mony occupying three hours and three-quarters. English- men present at an act of this kind, say that in half an hour the blood streamed forth from every part of the devotee's body; he was taken down and presently died. If this trial is also surmounted, the aspirant is finally buried alive, that is, put into the ground in an upright position and quite covered over with soil; after three hours and three-quarters he is drawn out, and if he lives, he is supposed to have at last attained the spiritual power of a Brahmin. Thus only by such negation of his existence does any one attain Brahminical power. la its highest degree this negation consists in a sort of hazy consciousness of having attained perfect mental immobility — ^the annihilation of all emotion and all volition ; — a condition which is regarded as the highest among the Buddhists also. However pusillani- mous and efEeminate the Hindoos may be in other respects, it is evident how little they hesitate to sacrifice themselves to the Highest — to Annihilation. Another instance of the same is the fact of wives burning themselves after the death of their husbands. Should a woman contravene this tradi- tional usage, she would be severed from society and perish in solitude. An Englishman states that he also saw a woman burn herself because she had lost her child. He did all that he could to divert her away from her purpose ; ,at last he applied to her husband who was standing by, but he showed himself perfectly,indifferent, as he had more wives at home. Sometimes, twenty women are seen throwing them- selves at once into the Granges, and on the Himalaya range an English traveller found three women seeking the source of the Ganges, in order to put an end to their life in this holy river. At a religious festival in the celebrated temple of Juggernaut in Orissa, on the Bay of Bengal; where millions of Hindoos assemble, the image of the god Vishnu is drawn in procession on a car : about five hundred men set 216 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY it in motion, and many fling themselves down before its wheels to be crushed to pieces. The whole seashore is al- ready strewed with the bodies of persons wlio have thus immolated themselves. Infanticide is also very common in India. Mothers throw their children into the Ganges, or let them pine away under the rays of the sun. The morality which is involved in respect for human life is not found among the Hindoos. There are, besides those already men- tioned, infinite modifications of the same principle of con- duct, all pointing to annihilation. This e.g. is the leading principle of the Gymnosophists, as the Greeks called them. Naked Fakirs wander about without any occupation, like the mendicant friars of the Catholic Church; live on the alms of others, and make it their aim to reach the highest degree of abstraction — ^the perfect deadening of conscious- ness; a point from which the transition to physical death is no great step. This elevation which others can only attain by toilsome labor is, as already stated, the birthright of the Brahmins. The Hindoo of another caste must, therefore, reverence the Brahmin as a divinity; fall down before him, and say to him: "Thou art jective freedom is presupposed. Ormuzd is not limited to particular forms of existence. Sun, Moon, and five other stars, which seem to indicate the planets — those illuminat- ing and illuminated bodies — are the primary symbols of Ormuzd; the Amshaspand, his first sons. Among these, Mitra is also named: but we are at a loss to fix upon the star which this name denotes, as we are also in reference to the others. The Mitra is placed in the Zend Books among the other stars; yet in the penal code moral transgressions are called "Mitra-sins" — e.g. breach of promise, entailing 300 lashes; to which, in the case of theft, 300 years of punish- ment in Hell are to be added. Mitra appears here as the presiding genius of man's inward higher life. Later on, great importance is assigned to Mitra as the mediator be^ tween Ormuzd and men. Even Herodotus mentions the adoration of Mitra. In Eome, at a later date, it became very prevalent as a secret worship; and we find traces of it even far into the Middle Ages. Besides those noticed there are other protecting genii, which rank under the Amshaspand, their superiors; and are the governors and preservers of the world. The council of the seven greait THE ORIENTAL WORLD 251 men whom the Persian Monarch had about him was like- wise instituted in imitation of the court of Ormuzd. The Fervers — a kind of Spirit-World — are distinguished from the creatures of the mundane sphere. The Fervers are not Spirits according to our idea, for they exist in every natural object, whether fire, water, or earth. Their exist- ence is coeval with the origin of things; they are in all places, in highroads, towns, etc., and afe prepared to give help to supplicants. Their abode is in Gorodman, the dwelling of the "Blessed," above the solid vault of heaven. As Son of Ormuzd we find the nameDshemshid: appsirently the same as he whom the Greeks call Achsemenes, whose descendants are called Pishdadians — a race to which Cyrus was reported to belong. Even at a later period the Persians seem to have had the designation Achaemenians among the Romans (Horace. Odes III. i. 44). Dshemshid, it is said, pierced the earth with a golden dagger; which means noth- ing more than that he introduced agriculture. He is said then to have traversed the various countries, originated springs and rivers, and thereby fertilized certain tracts of land, and made the valleys teem with living beings, etc. In the Zendavesta, the name Gustasp is also frequently mentioned, which many recent investigators have been in- clined to connect with Darius Hystaspes; an idea however that cannot be entertained for a moment, for this Gustasp doubtless belongs to the ancient Zend Race — to a period therefore antecedent to Cyrus. Mention is made in the Zend books of the Turanians also, i.e. the Nomad tribes of the north; though nothing historical can be thence deduced. The ritual observances of the religion of Ormuzd import that men should conduct themselves in harmony with the Kingdom of Light. The great general commandment is therefore, as already said, spiritual and corporeal purity, consisting in many prayers to Ormuzd. It was made spe- cially obligatory upon the Persians, to maintain living ex- istences — to plant trees — to dig wells — to fertilize deserts; in order that Life, the Positive, the Pure might be furthered, 252 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY and the dominion of Ormuzd be universally extended. Ex- ternal purity is contravened by touching a dead animal, and there are many directions for being purified from such pol- lation. Herodotus relates of Cyrus, that when he went against Babylon, and the river Gyndes engulfed one of the horses of the Chariot of the Sun, he was occupied for a year in punishing it, by diverting its stream into small canals, to deprive it of its power. Thus Xerxes, when the sea broke in pieces his bridges, had chains laid upon it as the wicked and pernicious being — Ahriman. CHAPTER II THE ASSYRIANS, BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND PERSIANS As THE Zend Race was the higher spiritual element of the Persian Empire, so in Assyria and Babylonia we have the element of external wealth, luxury and commerce. Tra- ditions respecting them ascend to the remotest periods of History; but in themselves they are obscure, and partly contradictory; and this contradiction is the less easy to be cleared up, as they have no canonical books or indigenous works. The Greek historian Ctesias is said to have had direct access to the archives of the Persian Kings; yet we have only a few fragments remaining. Herodotus gives us much information; the accounts in the Bible are also valuable and remarkable in the highest degree, for the He- brews were immediately connected with the Babylonians. In regard to the Persians, special mention must be made of the Epic, "Shah-nameh," by Ferdousi — a heroic poem in 60,000 strophes, from which Gdrres has given a copious extract. Ferdousi lived at the beginning of the eleventh century A.D. at the court of Mahmoud the Great, at Ghasna, east of Cabul and Candahar. The celebrated Epic just men- tioned has the old heroic traditions of Iran (that is of West Persia proper) for its subject; but it has not the value of a historical authority, since its contents are poetical and its author a Mohammedan. The contest of Iran and Turan is THE ORIENTAL WORLD 253 described in ttia heroic poem. Iran is Persia Proper — ^the Mountain Land on the south of the Oxus; Turan denotes the plains of the Oxus and those lying between it and the ancient Jaxartes. A hero, Rustan, plays the principal part in the poem; but its narrations are either altogether fabu- lous, or quite distorted. Mention is made of Alexander, and he is called Ishkander or Scander of Eoum. Roum means the Turkish Empire (even now one of its provinces is called Eoumelia), but it denotes also the Roman; and in the poem Alexander's Empire has equally the appellation Roum. Confusions of this kind are quite of a piece with the Mohammedan views. It is related in the poem, that the King of Iran made war on Philip, and that this latter was beaten. The King then demanded Philip's daughter as a wife ; but after he had lived a long time with her, he sent her away because her breath was disagreeable. On returning to her father, she gave birth to a son — Skander, who hastened to Iran to take possession of the throne after the death of his father. Add to the above that in the whole of the poem no personage or narrative occurs that can be connected with Cyrus, and we have sufficient data for esti- mating its historical value. It has a value for us, however, so far as Perdousi therein exhibits the spirit of his time, and the character and interest of Modern Persian views. As regards Assyria, we must observe, that it is a rather indeterminate designation. Assyria Proper is a part of Mesopotamia, to the north of Babylon. As chief towns of this Empire are mentioned, Atur or Assur on the Tigris, and of later origin Nineveh, said to have been founded and built by Ninus, the Founder of the Assyrian Empire. In those times one City constituted the whole Empire — ■ Nineveh, for example: so also Ecbatana in Media, which is said to have had seven walls, between whose inclosures agriculture was carried on ; and within whose innermost wall was the palace of the ruler. Thus, too, Nineveh, according to Diodorus, was 480 Stadia (about 12 German miles — 65 English) in circumference. On the wa,lls, which were 254 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY 100 feet high, were fifteen hundred towers, within which a vast mass of people resided. Babylon included an equally immense population. These cities arose in consequence of a twofold necessity — on the one hand that of giving up the nomad life and pursuing agriculture, handicrafts and trade in a fixed abode ; and on the other hand of gaining protec- tion against the roving mountain peoples, and the predatory Arabs. Older traditions indicate that this entire valley dis- trict was traversed by Nomads, and that this mode of life gave way before that of the cities. Thus Abraham wan- dered forth with his family from Mesopotamia westward, into mountainous Palestine. Even at this day the country round Bagdad is thus infested by roving Nolnads. Nineveh is said to have been built 2050 years B.C. ; consequently the founding of the Assyrian Kingdom is of no later date. Ninus reduced under his sway also Babylonia, Media and Bactriana; the conquest of which latter country is particu- larly extolled as having displayed the greatest energy; for Cteeias reckons the number of troops that ' accompanied Ninus at 1,700,000 infantry and a proportionate number of cavalry. Bactra was besieged for a very considerable time, and its conquest is ascribed to Semiramis; who with a valiant host is said to have ascended the steep acclivity of a mountain. The personality of Semiramis wavers between mythological and historical representations. To her is as- cribed the building of the Tower of Babel, respecting which we have in the Bible one of the oldest of traditions. — Babylon lay to the south, on the Euphrates, in a plain of great fertility and well adapted for agriculture. On the Euphrates and the Tigris there was considerable navigation. Vessels came partly from Armenia, partly from the South, to Babylon, and conveyed thither an immense amount of material wealth. The land round Babylon was intersected by innumerable canals; more for purposes of agriculture — to irrigate the soil and to obviate inundations — than for navigation. The magnificent buildings of Semiramis in Babylon itself are celebrated; though how much of the city THE ORIENTAL WORLD 255 is to be ascribed to the more ancient period is undetermined and uncertain. It is said that Babylon formed a square, bisected by the Euphrates. On one side of the stream was the temple of Bel, on the other the great palaces of the monarchs. The city is reputed to have had a hundred brazen (t.e. copper) gates, its walls being 100 feet high, and thick in proportion, defended by two hundred and fifty towers. The thoroughfares in the city which led toward the river were closed every night by brazen doors. Ker Porter, an Englishman, about twelve years ago (his whole tour occupied from 1817 to 1820) traversed the countries where ancient Babylon lay: on an elevation he thought he could discover remains still existing of the old Tower of Babel ; and supposed that he had found traces of the numer- ous roads that wound around the tower, and in whose loftiest story the image of Bel was set up. There are besides many hills with remains of ancient structures. The bricks corre- spond with the description in the Biblical record of the building of the tower. A vast plain is covered by an in- numerable multitude of such bricks, although for many thousand years the practice of removing them has been continued; and the entire town of HUa, which lies in the vicinity of the ancient Babylon, has been built with them. Herodotus relates some remarkable facts in the customs of the Babylonians, which appear to show that they were people living peaceably and neighborly with each otfeer. When any one in Babylon fell ill, he was brought to some open place, that every passer-by might have the opportunity of giving him his advice. Marriageable daughters were dis- posed of by auction, and the high price offered for a belle was allotted as a dowry for her plainer neighbor. Such an arrangement was not deemed inconsistent with tbe obligation under which every woman lay of prostituting herselt once in her life in the temple of Mylitta. It is difficult to discover what connection this had with their religious ideas. This excepted, according to Herodotus's account) immorality invaded Babylon only at a later period, when the peoplie 256 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY became poorer. The fact that the fairer portion of the sex furnished dowries for their less attractive sisters, seems to confirm his testimony so far as it shows a provident care for all; while that bringing of the sick into the public places indicates a certain neighborly feeling. We must here mention the Medes also. They were, like the Persians, a mountain people, whose habitations were south and southwest of the Caspian Sea and stretched as far as Armenia. Among these Medes the Magi are also noticed as one of the six tribes that formed the Median people, whose chief characteristics were fierceness, barba- rism, and warlike courage. The capital Ecbatana was built by Dejoces, not earlier. He is said to have united under his kingly rule the tribes of the Medes, after they had made themselves free a second time from Assyrian supremacy, and to have induced them to build and to fortify for him a palace befitting his dignity. As to the religion of the Medes, the Greeks call all the oriental Priests, Magi, which is therefore a perfectly indefinite name. But all the data point to the fact that among the Magi we may look for a comparatively close connection with the Zend religion; but that, although the Magi preserved and extended it, it experienced great modifications in transmission to the vari- ous peoples who adopted it. Xenophon says, that Cyrus was the first that sacrificed to God according to the fashion of the Magi. The Medes therefore acted as a medium for propagating the Zend Religion. The Assyrian-Babylonian Empire, which held so many peoples in subjection, is said to have existed for one thou- sand or fifteen hundred years. The last ruler was Sarda- napalus — a great voluptuary, according to the descriptions we have of him. Arbaces, the Satrap of Media, excited the other satraps against him; and, in combination with them, led the troops, which assembled every year at Nineveh to pay the tribute, against Sardanapalus. The latter, although he had gained many victories, was at last compelled to yield before overwhelming force, and to shut himself up in Nineveh ; THE ORIENTAL WORLD 257 and, when he could not longer ofEer resistance, to btirn him- self there with all his treasure. According to some chronol- ogists, this took place 888 years B.C.; according to others, at the end of the seventh century. After this catastrophe the empire was entirely broken up : it was divided into an Assyrian, a Median, and a Babylonian Empire, to which also belonged the Chaldeans — a mountain people from the north which had united with the Babylonians. These several Empires had in their turn various fortunes; though here we meet with a confusion in the accounts which has never been cleared up. Within this period of their exist- ence begins their connection with the Jews and Egyptians. The Jewish people succumbed to superior force; the Jews were carried captive to Babylon, and from them we have accurate information respecting the condition of this Em- pire. According to Daniel's statements there existed in Babylon a carefully appointed organization for government business. He speaks of Magians — from whom the ex- pounders of sacred writings, the soothsayers, astrologers, Wise Men and Chaldeans who interpreted dreams, are dis- tinguished. The Prophets generally say much of the great commerce of Babylon ; but they also draw a terrible picture of the prevailing depravity of manners. The real culmination of the Persian Empire is to be looked for in connection with the Persian people properly so called, which, embracing in its rule all Anterior Asia, came into contact with the Greeks. The Persians are found in extremely close and early connection with the Medes; and the transmission of the sovereignty to the Persians makes no essential difference; for Cyrus was himself a relation of the Median King, and the names of Persia and Media melt into one. At the head of the Persians and Medes, Cyrus made war upon Lydia and its king Croesus. Herodotus relates that there had been wars before that time between Lydia and Media, but which had been settled by the intervention of the King of Babylon. We recognize here a system of States, consisting of Lydia, Media, and Babylon. The latter 258 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY had become predominant and had extended its dominion to the Mediterranean Sea. Lydia stretched eastward as far as the Halys; and the border of the western coast of Asia Minor, the fair Greek colonies, were subject to it; a high degree of culture was thus already present in the Lydian Empire. Art and poetry were blooming there as cultivated by the Greeks. These colonies also were subjected to Persia. Wise men, such as Bias, and still earlier, Thales, advised them to unite themselves in a firm league, or to quit their cities and possessions, and to seek out for them- selves other habitations (Bias meant Sardinia). But such a union could not be realized among cities which were ani- mated by the bitterest jealousy of each other, and who lived in continual quarrel: while in the intoxication of affluence, they were not capable of forming the heroic resolve to leave their homes for the sake of freedom. Only when they were on the very point of being subjugated by the Persians did some cities give up certain for prospective possessions, in their aspiration after the highest good — Liberty. Herodotus says of the war against the Lydians, that it made the Per- sians, who were previously poor and barbarous, acquainted for the first time with the luxuries of life and civilization. After the Lydian conquest, Cyrus subjugated Babylon. With it he came into possession of Syria and Palestine; freed the Jews from captivity, and allowed them to rebuild their temple. Lastly, he led an expedition against the Massagetae; engaged with them in the steppes between the Oxus and the Jaxartes; but sustained a defeat, and died the death of a warrior and conqueror. The death of heroes who have formed an epoch in the History of the World is stamped with the character of their mission. Gyrus thus died in his mission, which was the union of Anterior Asia into one sovereignty without an ulterior object. THE ORIENTAL WORLD 259 CHAPTER III THE PERSIAN EMPIRE AND ITS CONSTITUENT PARTS The Persian Empire is an Empire in the modern sense — like that which existed in Germany, and the great imperial realm under the sway of Napoleon; for we find it consisting »of a number of states, which are indeed dependent, but which have retained their own individuality, their manners, and laws. The general enactments, binding upon all, did not infringe upon their political and social idiosyncrasies, but even protected and maintained them ; so that each of the nations that constitute the whole had its own form of Con- stitution. As Light illuminates everything — imparting to each object a peculiar vitality — so the Persian Empire extends over a multitude of nations, and leaves to each one its particular character. Some have, even kings of their own; each one its distinct language, arms, way of life, and customs. All this diversity coexists harmoniously under the impartial dominion of Light. The Persian Empire com- prehends all the three geographical elements, which we classified as distinct. First, the Uplands of Persia and Media; next, the Valley -plains of the Euphrates and Tigris, whose inhabitants are found united in a developed form of civilization, with Egypt — the Valley-plain of the Nile — where agriculture, industrial arts and sciences flourished; and lastly a third element, viz. the nations who encounter the perils of the sea — the Syrians, the Phoenicians, the in- habitants of the Greek colonies and Greek Maritime States in Asia Minor. Persia thus united in itself the three natural principles, while China and India remained foreign to the sea. We find here neither that consolidated totality which China presents, nor that Hindoo life, in which an anarchy of caprice is prevalent everywhere. In Persia, the govern- ment, though joining all in a central unity, is but a combina- tion of peoples — leaving each of them free. Thereby a stop is put to that barbarism and ferocity with which the nations 260 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY had been wont to carry on their destructive feuds, and which the Book of Kings and the Book, of Samuel suffi- cientlj attest. The lamentations of the Projihets and their imprecations upon the state of things before the conquest show the misery, wickedness and disorder that prevailed among them, and the happiness which Cyrus diffused over the region of Anterior Asia. It was not given to the Asiat- ics to unite self-dependence, freedom and substantial vigor Qfmind, with culture, i.e. an interest for diverse pursuits and an acquaintance with the conveniences of life. Military valor among them is consistent only with barbarity of manners. It is not the calm courage of order; and when their mind opens to a sympathy with various interests, it immediately passes into effeminacy; allows its energies to sink, and makes men the slaves of an enervated sensuality. PERSIA The Persians — a free mountain and nomad people — though ruling over richer, more civilized and fertile lands — retained on the whole the fundamental characteristics of their ancient mode of life. They stood with one foot; on their ancestral territory, with the other on their foreign conquests. In his ancestral land the King was a friend among friends, and as if surrounded by equals. Outside of it, he was the lord to whom all were subject, and bound to acknowledge their dependence by the payment of tribute. Faithful to the Zend religion, the Persians give themselves to the pursuit of piety and the pure worship of Ormuzd. The tombs of the Kings were in Persia Proper; and there the- King sometimes visited his countrym,en, with whom he lived in relations of the greatest simplicity. He brought with him presents for them, while all other nations were obliged to make presents to him. At the court of the mon- arch there was a division of Persian cavalry which consti- tuted the elite of the whole army, ate at a common table, and were subject to a most perfect discipline in every re- THE ORIENTAL WORLD 261 spect. They made themselves illustrious by their bravery, and even the Greeks awarded a tribute of respect to their valor in the Median wars. When the entire Persian host, to which this division belonged, was to engage in an expedi- tion, a summons was first issued to all the Asiatic popula- tions. When the warriors were assembled,, the expedition was undertaken with that character of restlessness, that nomadic disposition which formed the idiosyncrasy of the Persians. Thus they invaded Egypt, Scythia, Thrace, and at last Greece; where their vast power was destined to be shattered. A march of this kind looked almost like an emi- gration: their families accompanied them. Each people exhibited its national features and warlike accoutrements, and poured forth en masse. Each had its own order of march and mode of warfare. Herodotus sketches for us a brilliant picture of this variety of aspect as it presented itself in the vast march of nations under Xerxes (two millions of human beings are said to have accompanied him). Yet, as these peoples were so unequally disciplined — ■ so diverse in strength and bravery — it is easy to understand how the small but well-trained armies of the Greeks, ani- mated by the same spirit, and under matchless leadership, could withstand those innumerable but disorderly hosts of the Persians. The provinces had to provide for the support of the Persian cavalry, which were quartered in the cen- tre of the kingdom. Babylon had to contribute the third part of the supplies in question, and consequently appears to have been by far the richest district. As regards other branches of revenue, each people was obliged to supply the choicest of the peculiar produce which the district afforded. Thus Arabia gave frankincense, Syria purple, etc. The education of the princes — but especially that of the heir to the throne — was conducted with extreme care. Till their seventh year the sons of the King remained among the women, and did not come into the royal presence. From their seventh year forward they were instructed in hunting, riding, shooting with the bow, and als© in speaking 262 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY the truth. There is one statement to the efiect that the prince received instruction in the Magian lore of Zoroaster. Four of the noblest Persians conducted the prince's educa- tion. The magnates of the land at large constituted a kind of Diet. Among them Magi were also found. They are depicted as freemen, animated by a noble fidelity and patriot- ism. Of such character seem the seven nobles — the counter- part of the Amshaspand who stand around Ormuzd — when after the unmasking^ of the false Smerdis, who on the death 6f King Cambyses gave himself out as his brother, they assembled to deliberate on the most^ desirable form of government. Quite free from passion, and without exhibit- ing any ambition, they agree that monarchy is the only form of government adapted to the Persian Empire. The Sun, and the horse which first salutes them with a neigh, decide the succession in favor of Darius. The magnitude of the Persian dominion occasioned the government of the prov- inces by viceroys — Satraps; and these often acted very arbi- trarily to the provinces subjected to their rule, and displayed hatred and envy toward each other ; a source of much evil. These satraps were only superior presidents of 'the provinces, and generally left the subject kings of the countries in pos- session of regal privileges. All the land and all the water belonged to the Great King of the Persians. "Land and Water" were the demands of Darius Hystaspes and Xerxes from the Greeks. But the King was only the abstract sover- eign: the enjoyment of the country remained to the nations themselves; whose obligations were comprised in the main- tenance of the court and the satraps, and the contribution of the choicest part of their property. Uniform taxes first make their appearance under the government of Darius Hystaspes. On the occasion of a royal progress the districts of the empire visited had to give presents to the King ; and from the amount of these gifts We may infer the wealth of the unexhausted provinces. Thus the dominion of the Per- sians was by no means oppressive, either in secular or relig- ious respects. The Persians, according to Herodotus, had THE ORIENTAL WORLD 263 no idols — in fact ridiculed anthropomorphic representations of the gods; but they tolerated every religion, although there may be found expressions of wrath against idolatry. Greek temples were destroyed, and the images of the gods broken in pieces. SYRIA AND THE SEMITIC WESTERN ASIA One element — the coast territory — which also belonged to the Persian Empire, is especially represented by Syria. It was peculiarly important to the Persian Empire ; for when Continental Persia set out on one of its great expeditions, it was accompanied by Phoenician as well as by Greek navies. The Phoenician coast is but a very narrow border — often only two leagues broad — which has the high mountains of Lebanon on the East. On the sea-coast lay a series of noble and rich cities, as Tyre, Sidon, Byblus, Berytus, carrying on great trade and commerce ; which last, however, was too isolated and confined to that particular country to allow it to afEect the whole Persian state. Their commerce lay chiefly in the direction of the Mediterranean Sea, and it reached thence far into the West. Through its intercourse with so many nations, Syria soon attained a high degree of culture. There the most beautiful fabrications in metals and precious stones were prepared, and there the most im- portant discoveries, e.g. of Glass and of Purple, were made. Written language there received its first development, for in their intercourse with various natfons the need of it was soon felt. (So, to quote another example. Lord Macartney observes that, in Canton itself, the Chinese had felt and ex- pressed the need of a more pliable written language.) The Phoenicians discovered and first navigated the Atlantic Ocean. They had settlements in Cyprus and Crete. In the remote island of Thasos they worked gold mines. In the south and southwest of Spain they opened silver mines. In Africa they founded the colonies of Utica and Carthage. From Gades they sailed far down the African coast, and, 264 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY aecording to some, even circumnavigated Africa. From Britain they brought tin, and from the Baltic, Prussian amber. This opens to us an entirely new principle. Inac- tivity ceases, as also mere rude valor; in their place appears the activity of Industry, and that considerate courage which, while it dares the perils of the deep, rationally bethinks itself of the means of safety. Here everything de- pends on Man's activity, his courage, his intelligence; while the objects aimed at are also pursued in the interest of Man. Human will and activity here occupy the foreground, not Nature and its bounty. Babylonia had its determinate share of territory, and human subsistence was there dependent on the course of the sun and the process of Nature generally. But the sailor relies upon himself amid the fluctuations of the waves, and eye and heart must be always open. In like manner the principle of Industry involves the very opposite of what is received from Nature; for natural objects are worked up for use and ornament. In Industry Man is an object to himself, and treats Nature as something subject to him, on which he impresses the seal of his activity. Intelligence is the valor needed here, and ingenuity is better than mere natural courage. At this point we see the nations freed from the fear of Nature and its slavish bondage. If we compare their religious ideas with the above, we shall see in Babylon, in the Syrian tribes, and in Phrygia, first a rude, vulgar, sensual idolatry — a description of which in its principal features is given in the Prophets. Nothing indeed more specific than idolatry is mentioned ; and this is an indefinite term. The Chinese, the Hindoos, the Greeks, practice idolatry; the Catholics, too, adore the images of saints; but in the sphere of thought with which we are at present occupied, it is the powers of Nature and of pro- duction generally that constitute the object of veneration; and the worship is luxury and pleasure. The Prophets give the most terrible pictures of this — ^though th«ir repul- sive character must be partly laid to the account of the hatred of Jews against neighboring peoples. Such repre- THE ORIENTAL WORLD 265 sentations are particularly ample in the Book of Wisdom. Not only was there a worship of natural objects, but also of the Universal Power of Nature — Astarte, Gybele, Diana of Ephesus. The worship paid was a sensuous intoxication, excess, and revelry : sensuality and cruelty are its two char- acteristic traits. "When they keep their holy days they act as if mad" ["they are mad when they be merry" — English Version], says the Boob of Wisdom (xiv. 28). With a merely sensuous life — this being a form of consciousness which does not attain to general conceptions — cruelty is connected ; be- cause Nature itself is the Highest, so that Man has no value, or only the most trifling. Moreover, the genius of such a polytheism involves the destruction of its consciousness on the part of Spirit in striving to identify itself with Nature, and the annihilation of the Spiritual generally. Thus we see children sacrificed — priests of Cybele subjecting them- selves to mutilation — men making themselves eunuchs — women prostituting themselves in the temple. As a fea ture of the court of Babylon it deserves to be remarked, that when Daniel was brought up there, it was not required of him to take part in the religious observances; and more- over that food ceremonially pure was allowed him; that he was in requisition especially for interpreting the dreams of the King, because he had "the spirit of the holy gods." The King proposes to elevate himself above sensuous life by dreams, as indications from a superior power. It is thus generally evident, that the bond of religion was lax, and that here no unity is to be found. For we observe also adorations offered to images of kings ; the power of Nature and the King as a spiritual Power are the Highest; so that in this form of idolatry there is manifested a perfect contrast to the Persian purity. We find on the other hand something quite different among the Phoenicians, that bold seafaring people. Herod- otus tells us, that, at Tyre, Hercules was worshipped. If the divinity in question is not absolutely identical with the Greek demigod, there must be understood by that name one — SOIBNOE — 12 266 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY whose attributes nearly agree with his. This worship is particularly indicative of the character of the people; for it is Hercules of whom the Greeks say, that he raised him- self to Olympus by dint of human courage and daring. The idea of the Sun perhaps originated that of Hercules as en- gaged in his twelve labors; but this basis does not give us the chief feature of the myth, which is, that Hercules is that scion of the gods who, by his virtue and exertion, made himself a god by human spirit and valor; and who, instead of passing his life in idleness, spends it in hard- ship and toil. A second religious element is the worship of Adonis, which takes place in the towns of the coast (it was celebrated in Egypt also by the Ptolemies); and respecting which we find a notable passage ia the Book of "Wisdom (xiv. 13, etc.), where it is said: "The idols were not from the beginning — but were invented through the vain ambi- tion of men, because the latter are short-lived. For a father afflicted with untimely mourning, when he had made an image of his child (Adonis) early taken away, honored him as a god, who was a dead man, and delivered to those that were under him ceremonies and sacrifices" (E. V. nearly). The feast of Adonis was very similar to the worship of Osiris — the commemoration of his death ; — a funeral festival, at which the women broke out into the most extravagant lamentations over the departed god. In India lamentation is suppressed in the heroism of insensibility ; uncomplaining the women there plunge into the river, and the men, ingen- ious in inventing penances, impose upon themselves the direst tortures ; for they give themselves up to the loss of vitality, in order to destroy consciousness in empty abstract contem- plation. Here, on the contrary, human pain becomes an ele- ment of worship; in pain man realizes his subjectivity: it is expected of him — he may here indulge self -consciousness and the feeling of actual existence. Life here regains its value. A universality of pain is established: for death becomes im- manent in the Divine, and the deity dies. Among the Per- sians we saw Light and Darkness struggling with each other, TBE ORIENTAL WORLD 267 but here both principles are united in one — the Absolute. The Negative is here, too, the merely Natural; but as the death of a god^ it is not a limitation attaching to an indi- vidual object, but is pure Negativity itself. And this point is important, because the generic conception that has to be formed of Deity is Spirit; which involves its being concrete, and having in it the element of negativity. The qualities of wisdom and power are also concrete qualities, but only as predicates; so that God remains abstract substantial unity, in which differences themselves vanish, and do not become organic elements (Momente) of this unity. But here the Negative itself is a phase of Deity — the Natural — Death ; — the worship appropriate to which is grief. It is in the cele- bration of the death of Adonis, and of his resurrection, that the concrete is made conscious. Adonis is a youth, who is torn from his parents by a too early death. In China, in the worship of ancestors, these latter enjoy divine honor. But parents in their decease only pay the debt of Nature. When a youth is snatched away by death, the occurrence is regarded as contrary to the proper order of things; and while affliction at the death of parents is no just affliction, in the case of youth death is a paradox. And this is the deeper element in the conception^that in the Divinity, Negativity — Antithesis — is manifested; and that the wor- ship rendered to him involves both elements — the pain felt for the divinity snatched away, and the joy occasioned by his being found again. JUDyEA The next people belonging to the Persian empire, in that wide circle of nationalities which it comprises, is the Jevnsh. We find here, too, a canonical book — the Old Testament; in which the views of this people — whose principle is the exact opposite of the one just described — are exhibited. While among the Phoenician people the Spiritual was still limited by Nature, in the case of the Jews we find it entirely puri- fied; — ^the pure product of Thought. Self -conception ap- 268 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY pears in the field of consciousness, and the Spiritual devel- ops itself in sharp contrast to Nature and to union with it. It is true that we observed at an earlier stage the pure con- ception "Brahm"; but only as the universal being of Na- ture; and with this limitation, that Brahm is not himself an object of consciousness. Among the Persians we saw this abstract being become an object for consciousness, but it was that of sensuous intuition — as Light. But the idea of Light has at this stage advanced to that of "Jehovah" — the jpurely One. This forms the point of separation between the Bast and the West; Spirit descends into the depths of its own being, and recognizes the abstract fundamental prin- ciple as the Spiritual. Nature — which in the Bast is the primary and fundamental existence — is now depressed to the condition of a mere creature; and Spirit now occupies the first place. Q-od is known as the creator of all men, as he is of all nature, and as absolute causality generally." But this , great principle, as farther conditioned, is exclusive Unity. This religion must necessarily possess the element of exclusiveness, which consists essentially in this — that only the One People which adopts it recogaizes the One God, and is acknowledged by him. The God of the Jewish People is the God only of Abraham and of his seed: Na- tional individuality and a special local worship are involved in such a conception of deity. Before him all other gods are false: moreover the distinction between "true" and "false" is quite abstract; for as regards the false gods, not a ray of the Divine is supposed to shine into them. But every form of spiritual force, and d fortiori every religion is of such a nature, that whatever be its peculiar character, an affirma- tive element is necessarily contained in it. However erro- neous a religion may be, it possesses truth, although in a mutilated phase. In every religion there is a divine pres- ence, a divine relation; and a philosophy of History has to seek out the spiritual element even in the most imperfect forms. But it does not follow that because it is a religion, it is therefore good. We must not fall into the lax concep- THE ORIENTAL WORLD 269 tion, that the content is of no importance, but only the form. This latitudinarian tolerance the Jewish rdigion does not admit, being absolutely exclusive. The Spiritual speaks itself here absolutely free of the Sensuous, and Nature is reduced to something merely ex- ternal and undivine. This is the true and proper estimate of Nature at this stage ; for only at a more advanced phase can the Idea attain a reconciliation [recognize itself] in this its alien form. Its first utterances will be in opposition to Nature; for Spirit, which had been hitherto dishonored, now first attains its due dignity, while Nature resumes its proper position. Nature is conceived as having the ground of its existence in another — as something posited, created; and this idea, that God is the lord and creator of Nature, leads men to regard God as the Exalted One, while the whole of Nature is only his robe of glory, and is expended in his service. In contrast with this kind of exaltation, that which the Hindoo religion presents is only that of in- definitude. In virtue of the prevailing spirituality the Sen- suous and Immoral are no longer privileged, but disparaged as ungodliness. Only the One — Spirit — the Non-sensuous is the Truth; Thought exists free for itself, and true morality and righteousness can now make their appearance; for God is honored by righteousness, and right-doing is "walking in the way of the Lord." With this is conjoined happiness, life and temporal prosperity as its reward; for it is said: "that thou mayest live long in the land." — Here too also we have the possibility of a historical view ; for the under- standing has become prosaic; putting the limited and cir- eumscribed in its proper place, and comprehending it as the form proper to finite existence: Men are regarded as indi- viduals, not as incarnations of God; Sun as Sun, Mountains as Mountains — not as possessing Spirit and "Will. We observe among this people a severe religious ceremo- nial, expressing a relation to pure Thought. The individual as concrete does not become free, because the Absolute itself is not comprehended as concrete Spirit ; since Spirit still ap- 270 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY pears posited as nou-spiritaal — destitute of its proper charac- teristics. It is true that subjective feeling is manifest — the pure heart, repentance, devotion; but the particular concrete individuality has not become objective to itself in the Abso- lute. It therefore remains closely bound to the observance of ceremonies and of the Law, the basis of which latter is pure freedom in its abstract form. The Jews possess that which makes them what they are, through the One : conse- quently the individual has no freedom for itself. Spinoza regards the code of Moses as having been given by God to the Jews for a punishment — a rod of correction. The indi- vidual never comes to the consciousness of independence; on that account we do not find among the Jews any belief in the immortality of the soul; for individuality does not exist in and for itself. But though in Judaism the Individ- ual is not respected, the Family has inherent value; for the worship of Jehovah is attached to the Family, and it is con- sequently viewed as a substantial existence. But the State is an institution not consonant with the Judaistic principle, and it is alien to the legislation of Moses. In the idea of the Jews, Jehovah is the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and Jac"ob; who commanded them to depart out of Egypt, and gave them the land of Canaan. The accounts of the Patri- archs attract our interest. We see in this history the transi- tion from the patriarchal nomad condition to agriculture. On the whole the Jewish history exhibits grand features of character; but it is disfigured by an exclusive bearing (sanctioned in its religion) toward the genius of other na- tions (the destruction of the inhabitants of Canaan being even commanded) — by want of culture generally, and by the superstition arising from the idea of the high value of their peculiar nationality. Miracles, too, form a disturb- ing feature in this history — as history ; for as far as concrete consciousness is not free, concrete perception is also not free ; Nature is undeified, but not yet understood. The Family became a great nation; through the conquest of Canaan, it took a whole country into possession; and THE ORIENTAL WORLD 271 erected a Temple for the entire people, in Jerusalem. But properly speaking no political union existed. In case of national danger heroes arose, who placed themselves at the head of the armies; though the nation during this period was for the most part in subjection. Later on, kings were chosen, and it was they who first rendered the Jews inde- pendent. David even made conquests. Originally the legis- lation is adapted to a family only ; yet in the books of Moses the wish for a king is anticipated. The priests are to choose him: he is not to be a foreigner — not to have horsemen in large numbers — and he is to have few wives. After a short period of glory the kingdom suifered internal disruption and was divided. As there was only one tribe of Levites and one Temple — i.e. in Jerusalem — idolatry was immediately introduced. The One God could not be honored in difEerent Temples, and there could not be two kingdoms attached to one religion. However spiritual may be the conception of Grod as objective, the subjective side — the honor rendered to him — is still very limited and unspiritual in character. The two kingdoms, equally infelicitous in foreign and domestic warfare, were at last subjected to the Assyrians and Babylonians ; through Cyrus the Israelites obtained per- mission to return home and live according to their own laws. EGYPT The Persian Empire is one that has passea awayj and we have nothing but melancholy relics of its glory. Its fairest and richest towns — such as Babylon, Susa, Persepolis — are razed to the ground ; and only a few ruins mark their ancient site. Even in the more modern great cities of Persia — Ispahan and Shiraz — half of them has become a ruin; and they have not — as is the case with ancient Rome — developed a new life, but have- lost their place almost entirely in the remembrance of the surrounding nations. Besides the other lands already enumerated as belonging to the Persian Em- pire, Egypt claims notice — characteristically the Land of 272 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Bains; a land which from hoar antiquity has been regarded with wonder, and which in recent times also has attracted the greatest interest. Its rains, the final result of immense labor, surpass in the gigantic and monstrous all that antiq- uity has left us. In Egypt we see united the elements which in the Per- sian monarchy appeared singly. We found among the Persians the adoration of Light — regarded as the Essence of universal Nature. This principle then develops itself in phases which hold a position of indifference toward each other. The one is the immersion in the sensuous — among the Babylonians and Syrians; the other is the Spiritual phase, which is twofold: first as the incipient consciousness of the concrete Spirit in the worship of Adonis, and then as pure and abstract thought among the Jews. In the former the concrete is deficient in unity ; in the latter the concrete is altogether wanting. The next problem is, then, to har- monize these contradictory elements; and this problem presents itself in Egypt. Of the representations which Egyptian Antiquity presents us with, one figure must be especially noticed, viz. the Sphinx — in itself a riddle — an ambiguous form, half brute, half human. The Sphinx may be regarded as a symbol of the Egyptian Spirit. The human head looking out from the brute body exhibits Spirit as it begins to emerge from the merely Natural — .to tear itself loose therefrom and already to look more freely around it; without' however, entirely freeing itself from the fetters Nature had imposed. The innumerable edifices of the Egyptians are half below the ground, and half rise above it into the air. The whole land is divided into a kingdom of life and a kingdom of death. The colossal statue of Memnon resounds at the first glance of the young morning Sun; though it is not yet the free light of Spirit with which it vibrates. Written language is still a hieroglyphic; and its basis is only the sensuous image, not the letter itself. Thus the memorials of Egypt themselves give as a mul- titude of forms and images that express its character; we THE ORIENTAL WOBLD 273 recognize a Spirit in them which feels itself compressed; which utters itself, but only in a sensuous mode. Egypt was always the Land of Marvels, and has remained" so to the present day. It is from the Greeks especially that we get information respecting it, and chiefly from Herodotus. This intelligent historiographer himself visited the country of which he wished to give an account, and at its chief towns made acquaintance with the Egyptian priests. Of all that he saw and heard, he gives an accurate record; but the deeper symbolism of the Egyptian mythology he has re- frained from unfolding. Tiais he regards as something sacred, and respecting which he cannot so freely speak as of merely external objects. Besides him Diodorus Siculus is an authority of great importance; and among the Jewish historians, Josephus. In their architecture and hieroglyphics, the thoughts and conceptions of the Egyptians are expressed. A national work in the department of language is wanting: and that not only to us, but to the Egyptians themselves; they could not have any, because they had not advanced to an under- standing of themselves. Nor was there any Egyptian his- tory until at last Ptolemy Fhiladelphus — he who had the sacred books of the Jews translated into Greek — ^prompted the High-Priest Manetho to write an Egyptian history. Of this we have only extracts — lists of Kings ; which, however, have occasioned the greatest perplexities and contradictory views. To become acquainted with Egypt, we must for the most part have recourse to the notices of the ancients, and the immense monuments that are left us. We iind a num- ber of granite walls on which hieroglyphics are graved, and the ancients have given us explanations of some of them, but which are quite insufficient. In recent times attention has especially been recalled to them, and after many efforts something at least of the hieroglyphic writing has been de- ciphered. The celebrated Englishman, Thomas Young, first suggested a method of discovery, and called attention to the fact, that there are small surfaces separated from the other 274 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY liierogl3rphics, and in which a Greek translation is percepti* ble. By comparison Young made out three names — Berenice, Cleopatra, and Ptolemy — and this was the first step in de- ciphering them. It was found at a later date that a great part of the hieroglyphics are phonetic, that is, express sounds. Thus the figure of an eye denotes first the eye itself, but secondly the first letter of the Egyptian word that means "eye" (as in Hebrew the figure of a house, ^, denotes the letter J, with which the word no, House, begins). The celebrated Ghampollion (the younger) first called attention to the fact that the phonetic hieroglyphs are intermingled with those which mark conceptions; and thus classified the hieroglyphs and established settled principles for decipher- ing them. The History of Egypt, as we have it, is fall of the greatest contradictions. The Mythical is blended with the Historical, and the statements are as diverse as can be imagined. European literati have eagerly investigated the lists given by Manetho and have relied upon them, and several names of kings have been confirmed by the recent discoveries. Herodotus says, that according to the state- ments of the priests, gods had formerly reigned over Egypt, and that from the first human king down to the King Setho 341 generations, or 11,340 years, had passed away; bat that the first human ruler was Menes (the resemblance of the name to the Greek Minos and the Hindoo Manu is striking). With the exception of the Thebaid — its most soathern part —Egypt was said by them to have formed a lake ; the Delta presents reliable evidence of having been produced by the silt of the Nile. As the Dutch have gained their territory from the sea, and have found means to sustain themselves upon it; so the Egyptians first acquired their country, and maintained its fertility by canals and lakes. An important feature in the history of Egypt is its descent from Upper to Lower Egypt — from the South to the North. With this is con- nected the consideration that Egypt probably received its culture from Ethiopia; principally from the island Meroe, THE ORIENTAL WORLD 275 which, according to recent hypotheseSj was occupied by a sacerdotal people. Thebes in Upper Egypt was the most ancient residence of the Egyptian kings. Even in Herod- otus's time it was in a state of dilapidation. The ruins of this city present the most enormous specimens of Egyptian architecture that we are acquainted with. 'Considering their antiquity they are remarkably well preserved: which is partly owing to the perpetually cloudless sky. The centre of the kingdom was then transferred to Memphis, not far ■from the modern Cairo; and lastly to Sais, in the Delta itself. The structures that occur in the locality of this city are of very late date and imperfectly preserved. Herodotus tells us that Memphis was referred to so remote a founder as Menes. Among the later kings must be especially noticed Sesostris, who, according to ChampoUion, is Ehamses the Great. To him in particular are referred a number of monuments and pictures in which are depicted his triumphal processions, and the captives taken in battle. Herodotus speaks of his conquests in Syria, extending even to Colchis; and illustrates his statement by the great similarity between the manners of the Colchians and those of the Egyptians: these two nations and the Ethiopians were the only ones that had always practiced circumcision. Herodotus says, moreover, that Sesostris had vast canals dug through the whole of Egypt, which served to convey the water of the Nile to every part. It may be generally remarked that the more provident the government in Egypt was, so much the more regard did it pay to the maintenance of the canals, while under negligent governments the desert got the upper hand; for Egypt was engaged in a constant struggle with the fierceness of the heat and with the water of the Nile. It appears from Herodotus, that the country had become impassable for cavalry in consequence of the canals ; while, on the contrary, we see from the books of Moses how cele- brated Egypt once was in this respect. Moses says that if the Jews desired a king, he must not marry too many wives, nor send for horses from Egypt. 276 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Next to Sesostris the Kings Ohec^s laoid Cbepkren de- serve special mention. They are said to have built enor- mous pyramids and closed the temples of the priests. A son of Cheops — Mycerinus — ^is said to have reopened th^u; after him the Ethiopians invaded the country, and their king, Sabaco, made himself sovereign of Egypt. But Anysis, ithe successor of Mycerinus, fled into the marshes — ^to the imouth of the Nile; only after the departure of the Ethiopians did he make his appearance again. He was succeeded by Setho, who had been a priest of Phtha (supposed to be the same as Hephaestus): under his government, Sennacherib, King of the Assyrians, invaded the country. Setho had always treated the warrior-caste with great disrespect, and even robbed them of their lands; and when he invoked their assistance, they refused it. He was oMiged therefore to issue a general summons to the Egyptiaas, and assembled a host composed of hucksters, artisans, and market people. In the Bible we are told that the enemies fled, and that it was the angels who routed them; but Herodotus relates that field-mice came in the night and gnawed- the quivers and bows of the enemy, so that the latter, deprived of their weapons, were compelled to flee. After the death of Setho, the Egyptians (Herodotus tells us) regarded themselves as free, and chose themselves twelve kings, who formed a federal union — as a symbol of which they built the Laby- rinth, consisting of an immense number of rooms and halls, above and below ground. In the year 650 B.C. one of these kings, Psammitichus, with the help of the lonians and Carians (to whom be promised land in Lower Egypt), ck- pelled the eleven other kings. Till that time Egypt ha^d remained secluded from the rest of the world; and at sea it had established no connection with other nations. Psammitiehus commenced such a connection, and thereby led the way to the ruin of Egypt. From this point the history becomes clearer, because it is based on Greek ac- counts. Psammitichus was followed by Nccho, who began to dig a canal, which was to unite the Nile with the JRed THE ORIENTAL WORLD 277 Sea, but which was not completed until the reign of Darius Nothus. The plan of mnilang the Mediterranean Sea with the Arabian Gulf and the wide ocean is not so advantageous as amght be supposed; since in the Eed Sea — which on other accounts is very difficult to navigate — there prevails for about mne months in the year a constant north wind, so that it is only during three months that the passage from south to north is feasible. Necho was followed by Psammis, and tbe latter by Apries, who led an army against Sidon, and engaged with tihe Tyrians by sea: against Cyrene also he sent an army, which was almost annihilated by the Oyrenians. The Egyptians rebelled against him, accusing him of wishing to lead them to destruction ; but this revolt was probably caused by the favor shown by him to the Carians and lonians. Amasis placed himself at the head of the rebels, conquered the king, and possessed Mmself of the throne. By Herodotus he is depicted as a humorous monarch, who, however, did not always maintain the dignity of the throne. From a very humble station he had raised himself to royalty by ability, astuteness, and intelligence, and he exhibited in all other relations tbe same keen under- standing. In the morning he held his court of judicature, and listened to the complaints of the people; but in the afternoon, feasted and surrendered himself to pleasure. To his friends, who blamed him on this account, and told him that he oiught to give the whole day to business, he made answer: "If the bow is constantly on the stretch, it becomes useless or breaks. ' ' As the Egyptians thought less of him on account of his mean descent, he had a golden basin — , used for washing the feet — ^made into the image of a god in high honor among the Egyptians ; this he meant as a symbol of his own elevation. Herodotus relates, moreover, that ie indulged in excesses as a private man, dissipated the whole of his property, and then betook himself to stealing. This contrast of a vulgar soul and a keen intellect is characteristic in an Egyptian king. Amasis drew down upon him tbe ill-will of King Cam- 278 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY byses. Cyrus desired an oculist from the Egyptians ; for at that time the Egyptian oculists were very famous, their skill having been called out by the numerous eye-diseases preva- lent in Egypt. This oculist, to revenge himself for having been sent out of the country, advised Cambyses to ask for the daughter of Amasis in marriage; knowing well that Amasis would either be rendered unhappy by giving her to him, or, on the other hand, incur the wrath of Cambyses by refusing. Amasis would not give his daughter to Cambyses, because the latter desired her as an inferior wife (for his lawful spouse must be a Persian); but sent him, under the name of his own daughter, that of Apries, who afterward discovered her real name to Cambyses. The latter was so incensed at the deception that he led an expedition against Egypt, conquered that country, and united it with the Persian Empire. As to the Egyptian Spirit, it deserves mention here, that the Elians in Herodotus' s narrative call the Egyptians the wisest of mankind. It also surprises us to find among them, in the vicinity of African stupidity, reflective intelligence, a thoroughly rational organization characterizing all institu- tions, and most astonishing works of art. The Egyptians were, like the Hindoos, divided into castes, and the children always continued the trade and business of their parents. On this account, also, the Mechanical and Technical in the arts was so much developed here; while the hereditary transmission of occupations did not produce the same disad- vantageous results in the character of the Egyptians as in India. Herodotus mentions the seven following castes: the priests, the warriors, the neatherds, the swineherds, the mer- tjhants (or trading population generally) the interpreters — who seem only at a later date to have constituted a separate class — and, lastly, the seafaring class. Agriculturists are not named here, probably because agriculture was the occu- pation of several castes, as, e.g., the warriors, to whom a portion of the land was given. Diodorus and Strabo give a different account of these caste-divisions. Only priests, THE ORIENTAL WORLD 279 warriors, herdsmen, agriculturists, and artificers are men- tioned, to which latter, perhaps, tradesmen also belong. Herodotus says of the priests, that they in particular re- ceived arable land, and had it cultivated for rent; for the land generally was in the possession of the priests, warriors, and kings. Joseph was a minister of the king, according to Holy Scripture, and contrived to make him master of all landed property. But the several occupations did not re- main so stereotyped as among the Hindoos; for we find the Israelites, who were originally herdsmen, employed also as manual laborers: and there was a king — as stated above — who formed an army of manual laborers alone. The castes are not rigidly fixed, but struggle with and come into con- tact with one another: we often find cases of their being broken up and in a state of rebellion. The warrior-caste, at one time discontented on account of their not being released from their abodes in the direction of Nubia, and desperate at not being able to make use of their lands, betakes itself to Meroe, and foreign mercenaries are introduced into the country. Of the mode of life among the Egyptians, Herodotus sup- plies a very detailed account, giving prominence to every- thing which appears to him to deviate from Greek manners. Thus the Egyptians had physicians specially devoted to particular diseases; the women were engaged in outdoor occupations, while the men remained at home to weave. In one part of Egypt polygamy prevailed; in another, monogamy; the women had but one garment, the men two; they wash and bathe much, and undergo purification every month. All this points to a condition of settled peace. As to arrangements of police, the law required that every Egyptian should present himself, at a time appointed, before the superintendent under whom he lived, and state from what resources he obtained his livelihood. If he could not refer to any, he was punished with death. This law, how- ever, was of no earlier date than Amasis. The greatest care, moreover, was observed in the division of the arable 280 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY land, as also in planning canals and dikes; under Sabaco. the Ethiopian king, says Herodotus, many cities were ele- vated by dikes. The business of courts of justice was administered with very great care. They consisted of thirty judges nominated by the district, and who chose their own president. Plead- ings were conducted in writing, and proceeded as far as the "rejoinder." Diodorus thinks this plan very efiectual, in obviating the perverting influence of forensic oratory, and of the sympathy of the judges. The latter pronounced sen- tence silently, and in a hieroglyphical manner. Herodojus says, that they had a symbol of truth on their breasts, and turned it toward that side in whose favor the cause was de- cided, or adorned the victorious party with it. The king himself had to take part in judicial business every day. Theft, we are told, was forbidden; but the law commanded that thieves should inform against themselves. If they did so, they were not punished, but on the contrary were allowed to keep a fourth part of what they had stolen. This perhaps was designed to excite and keep in exercise that cunning for which the Egyptians were so celebrated. The intelligence displayed in their legislative economy appears characteristic of the Egyptians. This intelligence, which manifests itself in the practical, we also recognize in the productions of art and science. The Egyptians are re- ported to have divided the year into twelve months, and each month into thirty days. At the end of the year they intercalated five additional days, and Herodotus says that their arrangement was better than that of the Greeks. The intelligence of the Egyptians especially strikes us in the de- partment of mechanics. Their vast edifices — such as no other nation has to exhibit, and which excel all others in solidity and size — sufficiently prove their artistic skill; to whose cultivation they could largely devote themselves, because the inferior castes did not trouble themselves with political matters. Diodorus Siculus says, that Egypt was the only country in which the citizens did not trouble them- THE ORIENTAL WORLD 281 selves about the state, but gave their whole attention to their private business. Greeks and Eomans must have been especially astonished at such a state of things. On account of its judicious economy, Egypt was regarded by the ancients as the pattern of a morally regulated condi- tion of things — as an ideal such as Pythagoras realized in a limited select society, and Plato sketched on a larger scale. But in such ideals no account is taken of passion. A plan of society that is to be adopted and acted upon, as an abso- lutely complete one — ^in which everything has been consid- ered, and especially the education and habituation to it, necessary to its becoming a second nature — ^is altogether opposed to the nature of Spirit, which makes contemporary life the object on which it acts ; itself being the infinite im- pulse of activity to alter its forms. This impulse also ex- pressed itself in Egypt in a peculiar way. It would appear at first as if a condition of things so regular, so determinate in every particular, contained nothing that had a peculiarity entirely its own. The introduction of a religious element would seem to be an affair of no critical moment, provided the higher necessities of men were satisfied; we should in fact rather expect that it would be introduced in a peaceful way and in accordance with the moral arrangement of things already mentioned. But in contemplating the Religion of the Egyptians, we are surprised by the strangest and most wonderful phenomena, and perceive that this calm order of things, bound fast by legislative enactment, is not like that of the Chinese, but that we have here to do with a Spirit entirely different — one full of stirring and urgent impulses. We have here the African element, in combination with Oriental massiveness, transplanted to the Mediterranean Sea, that grand locale of the display of nationalities; but in such a manner, that here there is no connection with for- eign nations — this mode of stimulating intellect appearing superfluous; for we have here a prodigious urgent striving within the nationality itself, and which within its own circle shoots out into an objective realization of itself in the most 282 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY monstrous productions. It is that African imprisonment of ideas combined with the infinite impulse of the spirit to real- ize itself objectively, which we find here. But Spirit has still, as it were, an iron band around its forehead ; so that it cannot attain to the free consciousness of its existence, but produces this only as the problem, the enigma of its being. The fundamental conception of that which the Egyptians regard as the essence of being rests on the determinate char- acter of the natural world, in which they live; and more particularly on the determinate physical circle which the Nile and the Sun mark out. These two are strictly con- nected — the position of the Sun and that of the Nile; and to the Egyptian this is all in all. The Nile is that which essentially determines the boundaries of the country; be- yond the Nile-valley begins the desert; on the north, Egypt is shut in by the sea, and on the south by torrid heat. The first Arab leader that conquered Egypt writes to the Caliph Omar: "Egypt is first a vast sea of dust; then a sea of fresh water; lastly, it is a great sea of flowers. It never rains there; toward the end of July dew falls, and then the Nile begins to overflow its banks, and Egypt resembles a sea of islands." (Herodotus compares Egypt^ during this period, with the islands in the JEgean.) The Nile leaves behind it prodigious multitudes of living creatures: then appear moving and creeping things innumerable; soon after, man begins to sow the ground, and the harvest is very abun- dant. Thus the existence of the Egyptian does not depend on the brightness of the sun, or the quantity of rain. For him, on the contrary, there exist only those perfectly simple conditions, which form the basis of his mode of life and its occupations. There is a definite physical cycle, which the Nile pursues, and which is connected with the course of the Sun; the latter advances reaches its culmination, and then retrogrades. So also does the Nile. This basis of the life of the Egyptians determines more- over the particular tenor of their religious views. A contro- versy has long been waged respecting the sense and meaning THE ORIENTAL WORLD 28S of the Egyptian religion. As early as the reign of Tiberius, the Stoic Ohaeremon, who had been in Egypt, explains it in a purely materialistic sense. The New Platonists take a directly opposite view, regarding all as symbols of a spirit- ual meaning, and thus making this religion a pure Idealism. Each of these representations is one-sided. Natural and spiritual powers are regarded as most intimately united — (the free spiritual import, however, has not been developed at this stage of thought) — but in such a way that the ex- tremes of the antithesis were united in the harshest contrast. We have spoken of the Nile, of the Sun, and of the vegeta- tion depending upon them. This limited view of Nature gives the principle of the religion, and its subject-matter is primarily a history. The Nile and the Sun constitute the divinities, conceived under human forms; and the course of nature and the mythological history is the same. In the winter solstice the power of the sun has reached its mini- mum, and most be born anew. Thus also Osiris appears as born; but he is killed by Typhon — his brother and enemy — ^the burning wind of the desert. Isis, the Earth — from whom the aid of the Sun and of the Nile has been with- drawn — yearns after him : she gathers the scattered bones of Osiris, and raises her lamentation for him, and all Egypt bewails with her the death of Osiris, in a song which He- rodotus calls Maneros. Maneros he reports to have been the only son of the first king of the Egyptians, and to have died prematurely; this song being also the Linus-Song of the Grreeks, and the only song which the Egyptians have. Here again pain is regarded as something divine, and the same honor is assigned to it here as among the Phoenicians. Hermes then embalms Osiris; and his grave is shown in various places. Osiris is now judge of the dead, and lord of the kingdom of the Shades. These are the leading ideas. Osiris, the Sun, the Nile; this triplicity of being is united in one knot. The Sun is the symbol, in which Osiris and the history of that god are recognized, and the Nile is like- wise such a symbol. The concrete Egyptian imagination 284 THE PHILOSOPHY OP HISTORY ako ascribes to Osiris and I^is the introdiiiction of agricul- ture, the invention of the plow, the hoe, etc. ; for Osiris gives not only the usrful itself — the fertility of the earth — ^but, moreover, the means of making use of it. He also gives men laws, a civil order and a religious ritual; he thus places in men's hands the means of labor, and secures its result. Osiris is also the symbol of the seed which is placed in the earth, and then springs up — as also of the course of life. Thus we find this heterogeneous duality^the phenomena of Nature and the Spiritual — woven together into one knot. The parallelism of the course of human life with the Nile, the Sun and Osiris, is not to be regarded as a mere allegcwry — as if the principle of birth, of increase in strength, of the culmination of vigor and fertility, of decline and weakness, exhibited itself in these different phenomena, in an equal or similar way; but in this variety imagination conceived only one subject, one vitality. This unity is, however, quite ab- stract: the heterogeneous element shows itfeelf therein as pressing and urging, and in a confusion which sharply con- trasts with Greek perspicuity. Osiris represents the Nile and the Sun: Sun and Nile are, on the other hand, symbols of human life — each one is signification and symbol at the same time; the symbol is changed into signification, and this latter becomes symbol of that symbol, which itself then becomes signification. None of these phases of existence is a Type without being at the same time a Signification; each is both ; the one is explained by the other. Thus there arises one pregnant conception, composed of many conceptions, in which each fundamental nodus retains its individuality, so that they are not resolved into a general idea. The general idea — the thought itself, which forms the bond of analogy — does not present itself to the consciousness purely and freely as such, but remains concealed as an internal connection. We have a consolidated individuality, combining various phenomenal aspects ; and which on the one hand is fanciful, on account of the combination of apparently disparate material, but on the other hand internally and essentially connected, THE ORIENTAL WORLD 285 because these various appearances are a particular prosaic matter of fact. Besides this fundamental conception, we observe several special divinities, of whom Herodotus reckons three classes. Of the first he mentions eight gods; of the second twelve; of the third an indefinite number, who occupy the position toward the unity of Osiris of specific manifestations. In the first class. Fire and its use appears as Phtha, also as Knef, who is besides represented as the Good Genius; but the Nile itself is held to be that Genius, and thus abstractions are changed into concrete conceptions. Ammon is regarded as a great divinity, with whom is associated the determina- tion of the equinox: it is he, moreover, who gives oracles. But Osiris is similarly represented as the founder of oracu- lar manifestations. So the Procreative Power, banished by Osiris, is represented as a particular divinity. But Osiris is himself this Procreative Power. Isis is the Earth, the Moon, the receptive fertility of Nature. As an important element in the conception Osiris, Anubis {Thoth) — the Egyp- tian Hermes — must be specially noticed. In human activity and invention, and in the economy of legislation, the Spirit- ual, as such, is embodied; and becomes in this form — which is itself determinate and limited — an object of conscious- ness. Here we have the Spiritual, not as one infinite, inde- pendent sovereignty over nature, but as a particular exist- ence, side by side with the powers of Nature — characterized also by intrinsic particularity. And thus the Egyptians had also specific divinities, conceived as spiritual activities and forces; but partly intrinsically limited — partly [so, as] contemplated under natural symbols. The Egyptian Hermes is celebrated as exhibiting the spiritual side of their theism. According to Jamblichus, the Egyptian priests immemorially prefixed to all their in- ventions the name Hermes: Eratosthenes, therefore, called his book, which treated of the entire science of Egypt — "Hermes." Anubis is called the friend and companion of Osiris. To him is ascribed the invention of writing, and 286 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY of science generally — of grammar, astronomy, mensuration, music, and medicine. It was he who first divided the day into twelve hours: he was moreover the first lawgiver, the first instructor in religious observances and objects, and in gymnastics and orchestrics; and it was he who discovered the olive. But, notwithstanding all these spiritual attributes, this divinity is something quite other than the God of Thought. Only particular human arts and inventions are associated with him. Not only so; but he entirely falls back into involvement in existence, and is degraded un- der physical symbols. He is represented with a dog's head, as an imbruted god; and besides this mask, a particular natural object is bound up with the conception of this divinity; for he is at the same time Sirius, the Dog-Star. He is thus as limited in respect of what he embodies as sensuous in the positive existence ascribed to him. It may be incidentally remarked, that as Ideas and Nature are not distinguished from each other, in the same way the arts and appliances of human life are not developed and arranged so as to form a rational circle of aims and means. Thus medicine — deliberation respecting corporeal disease — ^as also the whole range of deliberation and resolve with regard to undertakings in life — was subjected to the most multifarious superstition in the way of reliance on oracles and magic arts. Astronomy was also essentially Astrology, arf^Medicine an aflEair of magic, but more particularly of Astrology. All astrological and sympathetic superstition may be traced to Egypt. Egyptian Worship is chiefly Zoolatry. "We have ob- served the union here presented between the Spiritual and the Natural: the more advanced and elevated side of this conception is the fact that the Egyptians, while they ob- served the Spiritual as manifested in the Nile, the Sun, and the sowin'g of seed, took the same view of the life of ani- mals. To us Zoolatry is repulsive. We may reconcile ourselves to the adoration of the material heaven, but the worship of brutes is alien to us; for the abstract natural THE ORIENTAL WORLD 287 element seems to us more generic, and therefore more wor- thy of veneration. Yet it is certain that the nations who worshipped the Sun and the Stars by no means occupy a higher grade than those who adore brutes, but con- trariwise; for in the brute world the Egyptians contem- plate a hidden and incomprehensible principle. We also, when we contemplate the life and actions of brutes, are astonished at their instinct — the adaptation of their movements to the object intended — their restlessness, excitability, and liveliness ; for they are exceedingly quick and discerning in pursuing the ends of their existence, while they are at the same time silent and shut up within them- selves. We cannot make out what it is that "possesses" these creatures, and cannot rely on them. A black tomcat, with its glowing eyes and its now gliding, now quick and darting movement, has been deemed the presence of a ma- lignant being — a mysterious reserved spectre: the dog, the canary-bird, on the contrary, appear friendly and sympa- thizing. The lower animals are the truly Incomprehensi- ble. A man cannot by imagination or conception enter into the nature of a dog, whatever resemblance he himself might have to it; it remains something altogether alien to him. It is in two departments that the so-called Incomprehensible meets us — in living Nature and in Spirit. But in very deed it is only in Nature that we have to encounter the Incomprehensible; for the being manifest to itself is the es- sence [supplies the very definition of] Spirit: Spirit under- stands and comprehends Spirit. The obtuse self-conscious- ness of the Egyptians, therefore, to which the thought of human freedom is not yet revealed, worships the soul as still shut up within and dulled by the physical organization, and sympathizes with brute life. We find a veneration of mere vitality among other nations also: sometimes expressly, as among the Hindoos and all the Mongolians; sometimes in mere traces, as among the Jews: "Thou shalt not eat the blood of animals, for in it is the life of the animal." The Greeks and Romans also regarded birds as specially intelli- 288 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY gent, believiog that what in the human spirit was not re- vealed — ^the Ineomprehenaible and Higher — was to be found in them. But among the Egyptians this worship of beasts was carried to excess under the forms of a most stupid and non-human superstition. The worship of brutes was among them a matter of particular and detailed arrangement: each district had a brute deity of its own — a cat, an ibis, a croco- dile, ete. Great establishments were provided for them; beautiful mates were assigned them; and, like human be- ings, they were embalmed after death. The bulls were buried, but with their horns protruding above their graves; the bulls embodying Apis had splendid monuments, and some of the pyramids must be looked upon as such. In one of those that have been opened, there was found in the most central apartment a beautiful alabaster coffin ; and on closer examination it was found that the bones inclosed were those of the ox. This reverence for brutes was often carried to the most absurd excess of severity. If a man killed one designedly, he was punished with death; but even the undesigned killing of some animals might entail death. It is related, that once when a Roman in Alexandria killed a cat, an insurrection ensued, in which the Egyptians mur- dered the aggressor. They would let human beings perish by famine, rather than allow the sacred animals to be killed, or the provision made for them trenched upon. Still more than mere vitality, the universal vis vitoB of productive nature was venerated in a Phallus- worship; which the Greeks also adopted into the rites paid by them to Dionysus. With this worship the greatest ex- cesses were connected. The brute form is, on the other hand, turned into a sym- bol : it is also partly degraded to a mere hieroglyphical sign. I refer here to the innumerable figures on the Egyptian mon- uments, of sparrow-hawks or falcons, dung-beetles, scarabsei, etc. It is not known what ideas such figures symbolized, and we can scarcely think that a satisfactory view of this very obscure subject is attainable. The dung-beetle is said THE ORIENTAL WOULD 289 to be the symbol of generation — of the son and its coarse; the Ibis, that of the Nile's overflowing; birds of the hawk tribe, of prophecy — of the year — of pity. The strangeness of these combinations results from the circumstance that we have not, as in oar idea of poetical invention, a general con- ception embodied in an image; but, conversely, we begin with a concept in the sphere of sense, and imagination con- ducts us into the same sphere again. But we observe the conception liberating itself from the direct animal form, and the continued contemplation of it; and that which was only surmised and aimed at in that form, advancing to compre- hensibility and conceivableness. The hidden meaning — ^the Spiritual — emerges as a human face from the brute. The multiform sphinxes, with lions' bodies and virgins' heads — or as male sphinxes {aydpo'a^ijyei) with beards — are evidence supporting the view, that the meaning of the Spiritual is the problem which the Egyptians proposed to themselves; as the enigma generally is not the utterance of something un- known, but is the challenge to discover it — implying a wish to be revealed. But conversely, the human form is also dis- figured by a brute face, with the view of giving it a specific and definite expression. The refined art of Greece is able to attain a specific expression through tbe spiritual character given to an image in the form of beauty, and does not need to deform the human face in order to be understood. The Egyptians appended an explanation to the human forms, even of the gods, by means of heads and masks of brutes; Anubis e.g. has a dog's head, Isis, a lion's head with bull's horns, etc. The priests, also, in performing their functions, are masked as falcons, jackals, bulls, etc. ; in the same way the surgeon, who has taken out tlie bowels of the dead (represented as fleeing, for he has laid sacrilegious hands on an object once hallowed by life) ; so also the embalmers and the scribes. The sparrow-hawk, with a human head and outspread wings, denotes the soul flying through ma- terial space, in order to animate a new body. The Egyptian imagination also created new forms^combinations of differ- — Science — 13 290 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORi ent animals: serpents with bulls' and rams' heads, bodies of lions with rams' heads, etc. We thus see Egypt intellectually confined by a narrow, involved, close view of Nature, but breaking through this; impelling it to self-contradiction, and proposing to itseff the problem which that contradiction implies. The [Egyptian] principle does not remain satisfied with its primary condi- tions, but points to that other meaning and spirit which lies concealed beneath the surface. In the view just given, we saw the Egyptian Spirit work- ing itself free from natural forms. This urging, powerful Spirit, however, was not able to rest in the subjective con- ception of that view of things which we have now been considering, but was impelled to present it to external con- sciousness and outward vision by means of Art. — For the religion of the Eternal One — the Formless — Art is not only unsatisfying, but — since its object essentially and exclusively occupies the thought — something sinful. But Spirit, occu- pied with the contemplation of particular natural forms — being at the same time a striving and plastic Spirit — changes the direct, natural view, e.g. of the Nile, the Sun, etc., to images, in which Spirit has a share. It is, as we have seen, symbolizing Spirit; and as such, it endeavors to master these symbolizations, and to present them clearly before the mind. The more enigmatical and obscure it is to itself, so much the more does it feel the impulse to labor to deliver itself from its imprisonment, and to gain a clear objective view of itself. It is the distinguishing feature of the Egyptian Spirit, that it stands before us as this mighty task- master. It is not splendor, amusement, pleasure, or the like that it seeks. The force which urges it is the impulse of self -comprehension ; and it has no other material or ground to work on, in order to teach itself what it is — to realize itself for itself — than this working out its thoughts in stone ; and what it engraves on the stone are its enigmas — these hieroglyphs. They are of two kinds — hieroglyphs proper, designed rather to express language, and having reference to subjective conception; THE ORIENTAL WORLD 291 and a class of hieroglyphs of a different kind, via. those enormous masses of architecture and sculpture with which Egypt is covered. While among other nations history con- sists of a series of events — as e.g. that of the Romans, who, century after century, lived only with a view to conquest, and accomplished the subjugation of the world — the Egyp- tians raised an empire equally mighty — of achievements in works of art, whose ruins prove their indestructibility, and which are greater and more worthy of astonishment than all other works of ancient or modern time. Of these works I will mention no others than those de- voted to the dead, and which especially attract our attention. These are, the enormous excavations in the hills along the Nile at Thebes, whose passages and chambers are entirely filled with mummies — subterranean abodes as large as the largest mining works of our time; next, the great field of the dead in the plain of Sais, with its walls and vaults; thirdly, those Wonders of the World, the Pyramids, whose destination, though stated long ago by Herodotus and Diodorus, has been only recently expressly confirmed — to the effect, viz., that these prodigious crystals, with their geometrical regularity, contain dead bodies; and lastly, that most astonishing work, the Tombs of the Kings, of which one has been opened by Belzoni in modern times. It is of essential moment to observe what importance this realm of the dead had for the Egyptian: we may thence gather what idea he had of man. For in the Dead, man conceives of man as stripped of all adventitious wrappages — as reduced to his essential nature. But that which a people regards as man in his essential characteristics, that it is itself — such is its character. In the first place, we must here cite the remarkable fact which Herodotus tells us, viz. that the Egyptians were the first to express the thought that the soul of man is immortal. But this proposition, that the soul is immortal, is intended to mean that it is something other than Nature — that Spirit is inherently independent. The ne plus ultra of blessedness 292 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY among the Hindoos was the passing over into abstract unity — into Nothingness. On the other hand, subjectivity, when free, is inherently infinite: the Kingdom 6f free Spirit is therefore the Kingdom of the Invisible — such as Hades was conceived by the Greeks. This presents itself to men first as the empire of death — to the Egyptians as the Realm of the Dead. The idea that Spirit is immortal involves this — that the human individual inherently possesses infinite value. The merely Natjiral appears limited — absolutely dependent upon something other than itself — and has its existence in that other ; but Immortality involves the inherent infinitude of Spirit. This idea is first found among the Egyptians. But it must be added, that the soul was known to the Egyptians previously only as an atom ; that is, as something concrete and particular. For with that view is immediately connected the notion of Metempsychosis — the idea that the soul of man may also become the tenant of the body of a brute. Aristotle too speaks of this idea, and despatches it in few words. Every subject, he says, has its particular organs, for its peculiar mode of action: so the smith, the carpenter, each for his own craft. In like manner the human soul has its peculiar organs, and the body of a brute cannot be its domicile. Pythagoras adopted the doctrine of Metem- psychosis; but it could not find much support among the Greeks, who held rather to the concrete. The Hindoos have also an indistinct conception of this doctrine, inasmuch as with them the final attainment is absorption in the universal Substance. But with the Egyptians the Soul — the Spirit — is, at any rate, an affirmative being, although only ab- stractedly affirmative. The period occupied by the soul's migrations was fixed at three thousand years ; they affirmed, however, that a soul which had remained faithful to Osiris was not subject to such a degradation — for such they deem it. It is well known that the Egyptians embalmed their dead ; and thus imparted such a degree of permanence that they have been preserved even to the present day, and may con- THE ORIENTAL WORLD 293 tinue as tkey are for many centuries to come. This indeed aeems inconsistent with their idea erf immortality ; for if the soul has an independent existence, the permanence of the body seems a matter of indiflEerence. But on the other hand it may be said, that if the soul is recognized as a permanent existence, honor should be shown to the body, as its former abode. The Parsees lay the bodies of the dead in exposed places to be devoured by birds; but among them the soul is regarded as passing forth into universal existence. Where the soul is supposed to enjoy continued existence, the body must also be considered to have some kind of connection with this continuance. Among us, indeed, the doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul assumes the higher form: Spirit is in and for itself eternal; its destiny is eternal blessed- ness. — ^The Egyptians made their dead into mummies; and did not occupy themselves further with them; no honor was paid them beyond this. Herodotus relates of the Egyptians, that when any person died the women went about loudly lamenting; but the idea of immortality is not regarded in the light of a consolation, as among us. From what was said above, respecting the works for the Dead, it is evident that the Egyptians, and especially their kings, made it the business of their life to build their sepulchre, and to give their bodies a permanent abode. It is remarkable that what had been needed for the business of life was buried with the dead. Thus the craftsman had his tools: designs on the coffin show the occupation to which the deceased had devoted himself; so that we are able to become acquainted with him in all the minutiae of his con- dition and employment. Many mummies have been found with a roll of papyrus under their arm, and this was for- merly regarded as a remarkable treasure. But these rolls contain only various representations of the pursuits of life — ^together with writings in the Demotic character. They have been deciphered, and the discovery has been made, that they are all deeds of purchase, relating to pieces of ground and the like; in which everjrthing is most minutely 294 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY recorded — even the duties that had to be paid to the royal chancery on the occasion. What, therefore, a person bought during his life, is made to accompany him — in the shape of a legal document — in death. In this monumental way we are made acquainted with the private life of the Egyptians, as with that of the Romans through the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. After the death of an Egyptian, judgment was passed upon him. — One of the principal representations on the sarcophagi is this judicial process in the realm of the dead. Osiris — with Isis behind him — ^appears, holding a balance, while before him stands the soul of the deceased. But judgment was passed on the dead by the living themselves; and that not merely in the case of private persons, but even of kings. The tomb of a certain king has been discovered — very large, and elaborate in its architecture — in whose hieroglyphs the name of the principal person is obliterated, while in the bass-reliefs and pictorial designs the chief figure is erased. This has been explained to import that the honor of being thus immortalized was refused this king by the sentence of the Court of the Dead. If Death thus haunted the minds of the Egyptians during life, it might be supposed that their disposition was melan- choly. But the thought of death by no means occasioned depression. At banquets they had representations of the dead (as Herodotus relates) with the admonition: "Eat and drink — such a one wilt thou become, when thou art dead. ' ' Death was thus to them rather a call to enjoy Life. Osiris himself dies, and goes down into the realm of death, accord- ing to the above-mentioned Egyptian myth. In many places in Egypt, the sacred grave of Osiris was exhibited. But he was also represented as president of the Kingdom of the Invisible Sphere, and as judge of the dead in it; later on, Serapis exercised this function in his place. Of Anubis- Hermes the myth says, that he embalmed the body of Osiris : this Anubis sustained also the office of leader of the souls of the dead; and in the pictorial representations he stands, with THE OBIENTAL WORLD 295 a writing tablet in his hand, by the side of Osiris. The re- ception of the dead into the Kingdom of Osiris had also a profounder import, viz. that the individual was united with Osiris. On the lids of the sarcophagi, therefore, the defunct is represented as having himself become Osiris ; and in deciphering the hieroglyphs, the idea has been suggested that the kings are called gods. The human and the divine are thus exhibited as united. If, in conclusion, we combine what has been said here of the peculiarities of the Egyptian Spirit in all its aspects, its pervading principle is found to be, that the two elements of reality — Spirit sunk in Nature, and the impulse to liberate it — are here held together inharmoniously as contending elements. We behold the antithesis of Nature and Spirit — not the primary Immediate Unity [as in the less advanced nations], nor the Concrete Unity, where Nature is posited only as a basis for the manifestation of Spirit [as in the more advanced]; in contrast with the first and second of these Unities, the Egyptian Unity — combining contradictory ele- ments — ^occupies a middle place. The two sides of this unity are held in abstract independence of each other, and their veritable union presented only as a problem. We have, therefore, on the one side, prodigious confusion and limitation to the particular; barbarous sensuality with African hardness, Zoolatry, and sensual enjoyment. It is stated that, in a public marketplace, sodomy was committed by a woman with a goat. Juvenal relates, thai; human flesh was eaten and human blood drunk out of revenge. Tha other side is the struggle of Spirit for liberation— fancy dis- played in the forms created by art, together with the abstract understanding shown in the mechanical labors connected with their production. The same intelligence — the power of altering the form of individual existences, and that steadfast thoughtfulness which can rise above mere phenomena — shows itself in their police and the mechanism of the State, in agricultural economy, etc. ; and the contrast to this is the severity with which their customs bind them, and the super- 296 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY stition to which humanitj among them is inexorably subjects With a clear understanding of the present is connected the highest degree of impulsiveness, daring and turbulence. These features are combined in the stories which Herodotus relates to us of the Egyptians. They much resemble the tales of the Thousand and One Nights ; ^and although these have Bagdad as the locality of their narration, their origin is no more limited to this luxurious court than to the Arabian people, but must be partly traced to Egypt — as Von Hammer also thinks. The Arabian world is quite other than the fanciful and enchanted region there described; it has much more simple passions and interests. Love, Mar- tial Daring, the Horse, the Sword, are the darling subjects of the poetry peculiar to the Arabians. TRANSITION TO THE GREEK WORLD The Egyptian Spirit has shown itself to us as in all re- spects shut up within the limits of particular conceptions, and, as it. were, imbruted in them; but likewise stirring itself within these limits — passing restlessly from one par- ticular form into another. This Spirit never rises to the Universal and Higher, for it seems to be blind to that; nor does it ever withdraw into itself: yet it symbolizes freely and boldly with particular existence, and has already mas- tered it. All that is now required is to posit that particular existence — which contains the germ of ideality — as ideal, and to comprehend Universality itself, which is already potentially liberated from the particulars involving it.' It is the free, joyful Spirit of Greece that accomplishes this, and makes this its starting-point. An Egyptian priest is re- ported to have said that the Greeks remain eternally chil- dren. We may say, on the contrary, that the Egyptians are vigorous hoys, eager for self-comprehension, who require ' Abstractions were to take the place of analogies. The power to connect particular conceptions as analogical does but jnst fall short of the ability to comprehend the general idea which links them. — Tr. TRANSITION TO THE GREEK WORLD 297 nothing but clear understanding of themselves in an ideal form in order to become Young Men. In the Oriental Spirit there remains as a basis the massive substantiality of Spirit immersed in Nature. To the Egyptian Spirit it has become impossible — though it is still involved in infinite embarrass- ment — to remain contented with that. The rugged African nature disintegrated that primitive Unity, and lighted upon the problem whose solution is Free Spirit. That the Spirit of the Egyptians presented itself to their consciousness in the form of a problem is evident from the celebrated inscription in the sanctuary of the Goddess Neith at Sais: "I am that which is, that vjhich was, and that which will be: no one has lifted my veil." This inscription indicates the principle of the Egyptian Spirit ; though the opinion has often been entertained that its purport applies to all times. Proclus supplies the addition: "The fruit which I have pro- duced is Helios." That -which is clear to itself is, therefore, the result of, and the solution of, the problem in question. This lucidity is Spirit — the Son of Neith the concealed night-loving divinity. In the Egyptian Neith, Truth is still a problem. The Greek Apollo is its solution; his utter- ance is: '^ Man, know thyself." In this dictum is not intended a self -recognition that regards the specialities of one's own weaknesses and defects: it is not the individual that is ad- monished to become acquainted with his idiosyncrasy, but humanity in general is summoned to self-knowledge. This mandate was given for the Greeks, and in the Greek Spirit humanity exhibits itself in its clear and developed condi- tion. Wonderfully, then, must the Greek legend surprise us, which relates, "that the Sphinx — the great Egyptian sym- bol—appeared in Thebes, uttering the words: "What is that which in the morning goes on four legs, at midday on two, and in the evening on three?" CEdipus, giving the solu- tion, Man, precipitated the Sphinx from the rock. The solution and liberation of that Oriental Spirit, which in Egypt had advanced so far as to propose the problem, is certainly this : that the Inner Being [the Essence] of Nature 298 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY is Thought, whieh has its existence only m the hiunan con- sciousness. But that time-honored antique Bolutioa given by is indivi duality only in virtue of those 'aims. The [fuU-grown;] man, on the other THE GREEK WORLD 501 Itand, devotes his life to labor for an cbjeotive aim; which be pBiBues oemsistently, even at the cost k& his individofiiMty. The liigbest form that floated before Grreek imagination was A-chilles, the Son of the Poet, the Homeric Youth of the Trojan War. Homer is the element in which the Greek world lives, as man d«ieB in the air. The Gree^ life is a truly youthful 'achievement. Achilles, the id«ai youth of poetry, commenced it: Alexander the Great, the ideal youth of reality, concluded it. JBoth appear in contest with Asia. Achilles, as the principal figure in the national expedition of the Greeks against Troy, does not stand at its head, but is subject to the Chief of Chiefs; he cannot be made the leader without becoming a fantastic untenable -conception. On the contrary, the second youth, Alexander — ^the freest and finest individuality that the real world has ever pro- duced — advances to the head of this youthful life that lias now perfected itself, and accomplishes the revenge against Asia. "We have, then, to distinguish three periods in Greek history: the first, that of the growth of real Individuality; the second, that of its independence and prosperity in ex- ternal conquest (through contact with the previous World- historical people); and the third, the period of its decline and fall, in its encounter with the succeeding organ of World-History. The period from its origin to its internal completeness (that which enables a people to malse h«ad against its predecessor) includes its primary culture. If the nation has a basis — such as the Greek world has in the Ori- ental — a foreign culture enters as an element into its primary condition, and it has a double culture, one original, the other of foreign suggestion. The uniting of tliese two elements constitutes its training; and the first period ends with the combination of its forces to produce its real and proper vigor, which then turns against the very element that had been its basis. Th^e second period is that of victory and prosperity. Hut wbile the nation directs its energies out- ward, Jt becomes unfaithful to its prinGayles cat hom«, and 302 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY internal dissension follows upon the ceasing of the external excitement. In Art and Science, too, this shows itself in the separation of the Ideal from the Eeal. Here is the point of decline. The third period is that of ruin, through con- tact with the nation that embodies a higher Spirit. The same process, it may be stated once for all, will meet us in the life of every world-historical people. SECTION 1 THE ELEMENTS OF THE GREEK SPIRIT Gbeece is [that form of] the Substantial [i.e. of Moral and Intellectual Principle], which is at the same time indi- vidual. The Universal [the Abstract], as such, is over- come;i the submersion in Nature no longer exists, and consentaneously, the unwieldy character of geographical relations has also vanished. The country now under con- sideration is a section of territory spreading itself in vari- ous forms through the sea — a multitude of islands, and a continent which itself exhibits insular features. The Pelo- ponnesus is connected with the continent only by a narrow isthmus: the whole of Greece is indented by bays in num- berless shapes. The partition into small divisions of terri- tory is the universal characteristic, while, at the same time, the relationship and connection between them is facilitated by the sea. We find here mountains, plains, valleys, and streams of limited extent: no great river, no absolute Valley- Plain presents itself; but the ground is diversified by moun- tains and rivers in such a way as to allow no prominence to a single massive feature. We see no such display of physi- cal grandeur as is exhibited in the Bast — no stream such as the Ganges, the Indus, etc., on whose plains a race deliv- ered over to monotony is stimulated to no change, because its horizon always exhibits one unvarying form. On the ' That is, blind obedience to moral requirements — to principle abstracted from personal conviction or inclination, as among the Ohinesa. — 2V. THE GREEK WORLD 303 contrary, that divided and multiform character everywhere prevails which perfectly corresponds with the varied life of Greek races and the versatility of the Greek Spirit. This is the elementary character of the Spirit of the Greeks, implying the origination of their culture from in- dependent individualities; — a condition in which individuals take their own ground, and are not, from the very begin- ning, patriarchally united by a bond of Nature, but realize a union through some other medium — through Law and Custom having the sanction of Spirit. For beyond all other nations that of Greece attained its form by growth. At the origin of their national unity, separation as a generic feature — ^inherent distinctness of character — is the chief point that has to be considered. The first phase in the subjuga- tion of this constitutes the primary period of Greek culture; and only through such distinctness of character, and such a subjugation of it, was the beautiful free Greek Spirit pro- duced. Of this principle we must have a clear conception. It is a superficial and absurd idea that such a beautiful and truly free life can be produced by a process so incomplex as -the development of a race keeping within the limits of blood-relationship and friendship. Even the plant, which supplies the nearest analogy to such a calm, homogeneous unfolding, lives and grows only by means of the antithetic activities of light, air, and water. The only real antithesis that Spirit can have, is itself spiritual: viz. its inherent heterogeneity, through which alone it acquires the power of realizing itself as Spirit. The history of Greece exhibits at its commencement this interchange and mixture of partly homesprung, partly quite foreign stocks; and it was Attica itself — whose people was destined to attain the acme of Hel- lenic bloom — that was the asylum of the most various stocks and families. Every world-historical people, except the Asi- atic kingdoms — which stand detached from the grand histori- cal catena — has been formed in this way. Thus the Greeks, like the Bomans, developed themselves from a colluvies — a conflux of the most varioas nations. Of the multitude of 304 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY tribes which we meet in Greece, we canaot say which was the original Greek people, and which immigrated from for- eign lands and distant parts of the globe; for the period of which we speak belongs entirely to the unhistorical and obscure. The Pelasgi were at that time a principal race in Greece. The most various attempts have been made by the learned to harmonize the confused and contradictory account which we have respecting them — a hazy and obscure period being a special object and stimulus to eru4ition. Remark- able as the earliest centres of incipient culture are Thrace, the native land of Orpheus, and Thessaly; countries which at a later date retreated more or less into the background. From Phthiotis, the country of Achilles, proceeds the com- mon name Hellenes' — a name which, as Thucydides remarks, presents itself as little in Homer in this comprehensive sense, as the term Barbarians, from whom the Greeks were not yet clearly distinguished. It must be left to special history to trace the several tribes, and their transformations. In gen- eral we may assume, that the tribes and individuals were prone to leave their country when too great a population occupied it, and that consequently these tribes were in a migratory condition, and practiced mutual depredation. "Even now," says the discerning Thucydides, "the Ozolian Locrians, the ^tolians, and Acarnanians retain their ancient mode of life; the custom of carrying weapons, too, has main- tained itself among them as a relic of their ancient predatory habits. ' ' Eespecting the Athenians, he says that they were the first who laid aside arms in time of peace. In such a state of things agriculture was not pursued ; the inhabitants had not only to defend themselves against freebooters, but also to contend with wild beasts (even in Herodotus's time many lions infested the banks of the Nestus and Achelous) ; at a later time tame cattle became especially an object of plunder, and even after agriculture had become more gen- eral, men were still entrapped and sold for slaves. In de- picting this original condition of Greece, Thucydides goes still further into detail. THE OBEEK WOBLD 305 Greece, then, was in this state of turbulence, insecurity, and rapine, and its tribes were continually migrating. The other element in which the national life of the Hel- lenes was versed was the iSea. The physique of their coun- try led them to this amphibious existence, and allowed them to skim freely over the waves, as they spread themselves freely over the land — not roving about like the nomad pop- ulations, nor torpidly vegetating like those of the river dis- tricts. Piracy, not trade, was the chief object of. maritime occupations ; and, as we gather from Homer, it was not yet reckoned discreditable. The suppression of piracy is as- cribed to Minos, and Crete is renowned as the land where security was first enjoyed; for there the state of things which we meet with again in Sparta was early realized, viz. the establishment in power of one party, and the subjuga- tion of the other, which was compelled to obey and work for the former. We have just spoken of heterogeneity as an element of tbe Greek Spirit, and it is well known that the rudiments of Greek civilization are connected with the advent of for- eigners. This origin of their moral life the Greeks have preserved, with grateful recollection, in a form of recogni- tion which we may call mythological. In their mythology we have a definite record of the introduction of agriculture by Triptolemus, who was instructed by Ceres, and of the institution of marriage, etc Prometheus, whose origin is referred to the distant Caucasus, is celebrated as having first taught men the production and the use of fire. The introduction of iron was likewise of great importance to the Greeks ; and while Homer speaks only of bronze, jEschylus calls iron "Scythian." The introduction of the olive, of the art of spinning and weaving, and the creation of the horse by Poseidon, belong to the same category. More historical than these rudiments of culture is the alleged arrival of foreigners ; tradition tells us how the vari- ous states were founded by such foreigners. Thus, Athens owes its origin to Cecrops, an Egyptian, whose history, how- 806 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY ever, is involved in obscurity. The race of Deucalion, the son of Prometheus, is brought into connection with the vari- ous Greek tribes. Pelops of Phrygia, the son of Tantalus, is also mentioned; next, Danaus, from Egypt: from him de- scend Acrisius, Danae, and Perseus. Pelops is said to have brought great wealth with him to the Peloponnesus, and to have acquired great respect and power there. Danaus set- tled in Argos. Especially important is the arrival of Cad- mus, of Phoenician origin, with whom phonetic writing is said to have been introduced into Grreece ; Herodotus refers it to Phoenicia, and ancient inscriptions then extant are cited to support the assertion. Cadmus, according to the legend, founded Thebes. We thus observe a colonization by civilized peoples, who were in advance of the Greeks in point of culture: though we cannot compare this colonization with that of the English in North America, for the latter have not been blended with the aborigines, but have dispossessed them; whereas in the case of the settlers in Greece the adventitious and autoch- thonic elements were mixed together. The date assigued to the arrival of these colonists is very remote — the 14th and 15th century B.C. Cadmus is said to have founded Thebes about 1490 B.C. — a date with which the Exodus of Moses from Egypt (1500 B.C.) nearly coincides. Amphictyon is also mentioned among the Founders of Greek institutions; he is said to have established at Thermopylae a union be- tween many small tribes of Hellas proper and Thessaly — a combination with which the great Amphictyonio league is said to have originated. These foreigners, then, are reputed to have established fixed centres in Greece by the erection of fortresses and the founding of royal houses. In Argolis, the walls of which the ancient fortresses consisted were called Cyclopean ; some of them have been discovered even in recent times, since, on account of their solidity, they are indestructible. These walls consist partly of irregular blocks, whose interstices are filled up with small stones — partly of masses THE GREEK WORLD 307 of stones carefully fitted into each other. Such walls are those of Tiryns and Mycenae. Even now the gate with the lions, at Mycenae, can be recognized by the description of Pausanias. It is stated of Proetus, who ruled in Argos, that he brought with him from Lycia the Cyclopes who built these walls. It is, however, supposed that they were erected by the ancient Pelasgi. To the fortresses protected by such walls the princes of the heroic times generally attached their dwellings. Especially remarkable are the Treasure-houses built by them, such as the Treasure-house of Minyas at Orchomenus, and that of Atreus at Mycenae. These fortresses, then, were the nuclei of small states ; they gave a greater security to agriculture; they protected com- mercial intercourse against robbery. They were, however, as Thucydides informs us, not placed in the immediate vicinity of the sea, on account of piracy; maritime towns being of later date. Thus with those royal abodes origi- nated the firm establishment of society. The relation of princes to subjects, and to each, other, we learn best from Homer. It did not depend on a state of things established by law, but on superiority in riches, possessions, martial accoutrements, personal bravery, pre-eminence in insight and- wisdom, and lastly, on descent and ancestry; for the princes, as heroes, were regarded as of a higher race. Their subjects obeyed them, not as distinguished from them by conditions of Caste, nor as in a state of serfdom, nor in the patriarchal relation — according to which the chief is only the head of the tribe or family to which all belong — nor yet as the result of the express necessity for a constitu- tional government ; but only from the need, universally felt, of being held together, and of obeying a ruler accustomed to command— without envy and ill-will toward him. The Prince has just so much personal authority as he possesses the ability to acquire and to assert; but as this superiority is only the individually heroic, resting on personal merit, it does not continue long. Thus in Homer we see the suitors of Penelope taking possession of the property of the absent 808 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY Ulysses, without showing the slightest respect to his son. Achilles, in his inquiries about his father, when Ulysses descends to Hades, indicates the supposition that, as he is old, he will be no longer honored. Manners are still very simple: princes prepare their own repasts; and Ulysses labors at the construction of his own house. In Homer's Iliad we find a King of Kings, a generalissimo in the great national undertaking — but the other magnates environ him as a freely deliberating council; the prince is honored, bxit he is obliged to arrange everything to the satisfaction of the others; he indulges in violent conduct toward Achilles, but, in revenge, the latter withdraws from the struggle. Equally lax is the relation of the several chiefs to the people at large, among whom there are always individuals who claim attention and respect. The various peoples do not fight as mercenaries of the prince in his battles, nor as a stupid serf -like herd driven to the contest, nor yet in their own interest; but as the companions of their honored chief- tain — as witnesses of his exploits, and his defenders in peril. A perfect resemblance to these relations is also presented in the Greek Pantheon. Zeus is the Father of the Gods, but each one of them has his own will; Zeus respects them, and they him: he may sometimes scold and threaten them, and they then allow his will to prevail, or retreat grumbling; but they do not permit matters to come to an extremity, and Zeus -so arranges matters on the whole — by making this concession to one, that to another — as to produce satisfaction. In the terrestrial, as well as in the Olympian world, there is, therefore, only a lax bond of unity maintained; royalty has not yet become monarchy, for it is only in a more extensive society that the need of the latter is felt. While this state of things prevailed, and social relations were such as have been described, that striking and great event took place — the union of the whole of Greece ia a national undertaking, viz. the IVojan War; with which began that more extensive connection with Asia wkich had THE GREEK WORLD 309 very important results for the Greeks. (The expedition of Jason to Colchis — also mentioned by the poets — and ■which bears an earlier date, was, as compared with the war of Troy, a very limited and isolated undertaking.) The occasion of that united expedition is said to have been the violation of the laws of hospitality by the son of an Asiatic prince, in carrying off the wife of his host. Agamemnon assembles the princes of Greece through the power and influence which he possesses. Thucydides as- cribes his authority to his hereditary sovereignty, combined with naval power (Hom. II. ii. 108), in which he was far superior to the rest. It appears, however, that the combi- nation was effected without external compulsion, and that the whole armament was convened simply on the strength of individual consent. The Hellenes were then brought to act unitedly, to an extent of which there is no subsequent example. The result of their exertions was the conquest and destruction of Troy, though they had no design of mak- ing it a permanent possession. No external result, therefore, in the way of settlement ensued, any more than an enduring political union, as the effect of the uniting of the nation in the accomplishment of this single achievement. But the poet supplied an imperishable portraiture of their youth and of their national spirit, to the imagination of the Greek people; and the picture of this beautiful human heroism hovered as a directing ideal before their whole development and culture. So likewise, in the Middle Ages, we see the whole of Christendom united to attain one object — the con- quest of the Holy Sepulchre ; but, in spite of all the victories achieved, with just as little permanent result. The Cru- sades are the Trojan "War of newly awakened Christen- dom, waged against the simple, homogeneous clearness of Mohammedanism. The royal houses perished, partly as the consequence of particular atrocities, partly through gradual extinction. There was no strictly moral bond connecting them with the tribes which they governed. The same relative position 310 THE PHILOSOPBY OF HISmBY is occupied by the people and th« royal houses in the Greek Tragedy also. The people is the Chorus — passive, deedless: the heroes perform the deeds, and incur the consequent re- sponsibility. There is nothing in common between them; the people have no directing power, but only appeal to the gods. Sueh heroic personalities as those of the princes in question are so remarkably suited for subjects of dramatic art on this very account — that they form their resolutions independently and individually, and are not guided by uni- versal laws binding on every citizen; their conduct and their ruin is individual. The people appear separated from the royal houses, and these are regarded as an alien body — a higher race, fighting out the battles and undergoing the penalties of their fate, for themselves alone. Royalty having performed that which it had to perform, thereby rendered itself superfluous. The several dynasties are the agents of their own destruction, or perish not as the result of ani- mosity, or of struggles on the side of the people: rather the families of the sovereigns are left in calm enjoyment of their power — a proof that the democratic government which fol- lowed is not regarded as something absolutely diverse. How sharply do the annals of other times contrast with this ! This fall of the royal houses occurs after the Trojan war, and many changes now present themselves. The Pelopon- nesus was conquered by the Heraelidse, who introduced a calmer state of things, which was not again interrupted by the incessant migrations of races. The history now be- comes more obscure; and though the several occurrences of the Trojan war are very circumstantially described to us, we are uncertain respecting the important transactions of the time immediately following, for a space of many cen- turies. No united undertaking distinguishes them, unless we regard as such that of which Thucydides speaks, viz. the war between the Chalcidians and Eretrians in Eubcea, in which many nations took part. The towns vegetate in isolation, or at most distinguish themselves by war with their neighbors. Yet they enjoy prosperity in this isolated THE GREEK WORLD 311 condition, by means of trade; a kind of progress to which their being rent by many party-struggles offers no oppo- sition. In the same way, we observre in the Middle Ages the towns of Italy — which, both internally and externally, were engaged in continual struggle — attaining so high a de- gree of prosperity. The flourishing state of the Greek towns at that time is proved, according to Thucydides, also by the colonies sent out in every direction. Thus, Athens colo- nized Ionia and several islands ; and colonies from the Pelo- ponnesus settled in Italy and Sicily. Colonies, on the other hand, became relatively mother states; e.g. Miletus, which founded many cities on the Propontis and the Black Sea. This sending out of colonies — especially during the period between the Trojan war and Cyrus — presents us with a re- markable phenomenon. It can be thus explained. In the several towns the people had the governmental power in their hands, since they gave the final decision in political affairs. In consequence of the long repose enjoyed by them, the population and the development of the community advanced rapidly ; and the immediate result was the amassing of great riches, contemporaneously with which fact great want and poverty make their appearance. Industry, in our sense, did not exist ; and the lands were soon occupied. Nevertheless a part of the poorer classes would not submit to the degra- dations of poverty, for every one felt himself a free citizen. The only expedient, therefore, that remained was coloniza- tion. In another country, those who suffered distress in their own might seek a free soil, and gain a living as free citizens by its cultivation. Colonization thus became a means of maintaining some degree of equality among the citizens; but this means is only a palliative, and the original inequality, founded on the difference of property, imme- diately reappears. The old passions were rekindled with fresh violence, and riches were soon made use of for secur- ing power: thus "Tyrants" gained ascendency in the cities of Greece. Thucydides says, "When Greece increased in riches. Tyrants arose in the cities, and the Greeks devoted. 312 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTOBl themselves more zealously to the sea." At the time of Cyrus, the History of Greece acquires its peculiar interest; we see the various states now displaying their particular character. This is the date, too, of the formation of the distinct Greek Spirit. Religion and political institutions are dereloped with it, and it is these important phases of national life which must now occupy our attention. In tracing up the rudiments of Greek culture, we first re- call attention to the fact that the physical condition of the country does not exhibit such a characteristic unity, such a uniform mass, as to exercise a powerful influence over the inhabitants. On the contrary, it is diversified, and pro- duces no decided impression. Nor have we here the un- wieldy unity of a family or national combination; but, in the presence of scenery and displays of elemental power broken up into fragmentary forms, men's attention is more largely directed to themselves, and to the extension of their immature capabilities. Thus we see the Greeks — divided and separated from each other — thrown back upon their inner spirit and personal energy, yet at the same time most variously excited and cautiously circumspect. We behold them quite undetermined and irresolute in the presence of Nature, dependent on its contingencies, and listening anxiously to each signal from the external world; but, on the other hand, intelligently taking cognizance of and appro- priating that outward existence, and showing boldness and independent vigor in contending with it. These are the simple elements of their culture and religion. In tracing up their mythological conceptions, we find natural objects forming the basis — not en masse, however; only in dissevered forms. The Diana of Bphesus (that is, Nature as the uni- versal Mother), the Oybele and Astarte of Syria — such com- prehensive conceptions remained Asiatic, and were not transmitted to Greece. For the Greeks only watch the ob- jects of Nature, and form surmises respecting them ; inquir- ing, in the depth of their souls, for the hidden meaning. According to Aristotle's dictum, that Philosophy proceeds TSE GBEEK WORLD 313 from Wonder, the Greek view of Nature also proceeds from wonder of this kind. Not that, in their experience, Spirit meets something extraordinary, which it compares with the common order of things; for the intelligent view of a regular course of Nature, and the reference of phenomena to that standard, do not yet present themselves; but the Greek Spirit was excited to wonder at the Natural in Nature. It does not maintain the position of stupid indifference to it as something existing, and there an end of it; but re- gards it as something in the first instance foreign, in which, however, it has a presentiment of confidence, and the behef that it bears something within it which is friendly to the human Spirit, and to which it may be permitted to sustain a positive relation. This Wonder, and this Presentiment, are here the fundamental categories; though the Hellenes did not content themselves with these moods of feelings, but projected the hidden meaning, which was the subject of the surmise, into a distinct conception as an object of consciousness. The Natural holds its place in their minds only after undergoing some transformation by Spirit — ^not immediately. Man regards Nature only as an excitement to his faculties, and only the Spiritual which he has evolved from it can have any influence over him. Nor is this com- mencement of the Spiritual apprehension of Nature to be regarded as an explanation suggested by us; it meets us in a multitude of conceptions formed by the Greeks them- selves. The position of curious surmise, of attentive eager- ness to catch the meaning of Nature, is indicated to us in the comprehensive idea of Pan. To the Greeks Pan did not represent the ohjeeHve Whole, but that indefinite neutral ground which involves the element of the subjective; he embodies that thrill which pervades us in the silence of the forests; he was, therefore, especially worshipped in sylvan Arcadia (a "panic terror" is the common expression for a groundless fright). Pan, this thrill-exciting being, is also represented as playing on the flute; we have not the bare internal presentiment, for Pan makes himself audible on the °— BOIENOE — 14 314 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY seven-reeded pipe. In what has been stated we have, on the one hand, the Indefinite, which, however, holds com- munication with man; on the other hand, the fact that such communication is only a subjective imagining — an explana- tion furnished by the percipient himself. On the same prin- ciple the Greeks listened to the murmuring of the fountains, and asked what might be thereby signified; but the signifi- cation which they were led to attach to it was not the objec- tive meaning of the fountain, but the subjective — that of the subject itself, which further exalts the Naiad to a Muse. The Naiads, or Fountains, are the external, objective origin of the Muses. Yet the immortal songs of the Muses are not that which is heard in the murmuring of the fountains; they are the productions of the thoughtfully listening Spirit — creative while observant. The interpretation and explana- tion of Nature and its transformations — the indication of their sense and import — is the act of the subjective Spirit; and to this the Greeks attached the name fiavrst'a. The gen- eral idea which this embodies is the form in which man realizes his relationship to Nature. Mavrsta has reference both to the matter of the exposition and to the expounder who divines the weighty import in question. Plato speaks of it in reference to dreams, and to that delirium into which men fall during sickness; an interpreter, [imri