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AUTHOR: 
 
 BAX, ERNEST 
 BELFORT 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 OF THE 
 
 OF 
 
 PLACE: 
 
 LONDON 
 
 DATE: 
 
 1886 
 
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 Bax, Ernest Belfort, 1854-1926. 
 
 A handbook of the history of philosophy for 
 the use of sttidents. London, Bell, 1886. 
 
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 f 
 
BOHirS PHILOSOPHICAL LIBRARY. 
 
 A HANDBOOK 
 
 OF THE 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY, 
 
A HANDBOOK 
 
 OF THl 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 FOE TEE USE OF STUDENTS. 
 
 BT 
 
 I 
 
 EENEST BELFOET BAX. 
 
 EDITOR OF 'rant's PR0LEG03IEXA,' ETC.; 
 
 AUTHOB OF 
 
 *aEAN PALL MAliAT, A, HI«fOIiICO-bI«GliAl?ll<?4^;SKl!ffCH,' ETC. 
 
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 LONDON : GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET, 
 
 OOVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1886. 
 
li 7 
 
 ^ ' 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 -•o*- 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PBINTID BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND fcON8, LIMITED, 
 
 STAMFORD STKFET AND CIIAaI^O CB0S8. 
 
 
 
 
 • •- 
 
 • • • • • 
 
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 « 
 
 • • • • 
 
 • • • 
 
 ••• • 
 
 
 
 When I was requested to undertake the editing and re- 
 vision for Bohn's Philosophical Library, of a new edition 
 of * Tennemann*s Manual of the History of Philosophy/ a 
 very brief examination sufficed to make it evident to me 
 that the amount of correction and alteration required 
 to bring the latter only approximately up to date would 
 be such, that the last state of that manual would bid 
 fair to resemble the condition of a certain relic associated 
 with the Thirty Years War, respecting which we are 
 told, the ** head, neck, legs and part of the body have 
 been renewed, all the rest is the real horse." It was 
 therefore decided that I should undertake an entirely 
 new volume on the subject. 
 
 The plan adopted has been to give a more or less 
 detailed account of those philosophers who either consti- 
 tute epochs in the history of speculation, or at least have 
 contributed something of their own toward its subsequent 
 development, without filling the work unnecessarily with 
 
 J mere crowd of names. Of course in the case of thinkers 
 subordinate importance, a selection made on this 
 inciple must always be open to ciiticism, but that thcro 
 are no flagrant cases of partiality or carelessness is my 
 conscientious belief. 
 
 ill/- 
 
 4y^ 
 
 A 
 
 f *,: .< 
 
Tl 
 
 PBEFACE. 
 
 It will be observed that there is a progressive expansion 
 in tbe treatment as modern times are approached. A 
 bibliography has been appended where it has been con- 
 sidered necessary, especially in the case of those earlier 
 periods of which the exposition has been more condensed. 
 As regards later writers, the view taken is that the 
 primary need of the student is to study the original 
 works themselves rather than what other people have 
 written about them, desirable as this may be as a 
 supplementary aid. Works, moreover, treating of these 
 thinkers are numerous, and their titles readily accessible 
 to the student. I must, in conclusion, beg the reader 
 to remember, as some extenuation of any short-comings 
 he may find, that this little work only professes to be 
 a " handbook " to the study of the subject, and not an 
 exhaustive treatment of it. 
 
 It should also be stated that I have been ably assisted 
 by Mr. Davison's compilation of the excellent indeic 
 which concludes the work. 
 
 HANDBOOK 
 
 TO THB 
 
 HISTOEY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I. What is Philosophy? 
 
 Max finds himself conscious of being in a ready-made 
 world, of which he forms part and parcel. He apprehends 
 this fact long before the impulse arises in him to compre- 
 hend it. He is aware, that is to say, of this world in its 
 concrete actuality^ long before he feels himself driven to 
 try and become aware of it in its abstract possibiUtt/. 
 But this impulse nevertheless arises at a certain stage 
 of man's development, and the result is philosophy, which 
 may be described as the off'spring of the conscious endeavour 
 to reconstruct the given world of perceptive experience — 
 the world found constructed in actuality — according to its 
 possihility. This enormous and all-embracing problem, as a 
 matter of course, exliil)its a variety of aspects, and has 
 naturally been approached by many paths. The History 
 of Philosophy shows us these aspects as they progressively 
 unfold themselves to the human mind, and the various 
 paths that have been struck out for their investigation, 
 one or two proving highways, many byways, and not 
 a few blind roads. 
 
 The first aspect under which the problem presented 
 itself in ancient Greece, whose philosophical develoj)- 
 ment may be taken as typical, was that of Being or 
 existence; the statement w^as — to discover the ultimate 
 constituent of the physical universe. In the next stage, 
 the problem became refined. It was no longer an ultimate 
 
HISTORY OF THILOSOPHT. 
 
 [Introd. 
 
 coBmical principle that was sought for, but the ultimate 
 form of existence was conceived as one of which the world ot 
 sense was a mere mode, if it were not indeed opposed to it . 
 The problem of philosophy continued to be attacked on the 
 side of being from these two points, the concrete and the 
 abstract, until the Sophistic Revolution which i«B^ed in 
 Socrates, when the standing-ground was radically changed. 
 It was now seen for the first time that inasmuch as 
 the possibility of formulating, much more of solving the 
 problem of the Being of the sensible world presupposed the 
 
 capacity of Kmming. the first step ^^.P^^^^f .^P^X-'^r* w 
 an investigation of the conditions under which this know- 
 ledge comes to pass, in other words, an examination ot 
 the capadty of knowing, itself. The philosophica labours 
 of the two typical thinkers of antiquity, Plato and Aristotle, 
 were mainly occupied with this proMem. • 
 
 Philosophy distinguishes itself from mythology and 
 theology, by being essentially a conscious and reasoned 
 effort to explain the universe, while mythology and theo- 
 logy are, at least in their genesis, essentially the uncon- 
 scious and spontaneous results of a primitive imagination, 
 which employs the notion of volition and persoiiality as 
 the basis of causal condition. The fact of their being at 
 a later stage refined and presented m a quasi-philosopliised 
 guise, or supported by philosophical arguments, does not 
 alter their intrinsic character. 
 
 The radical distinction between philosophy and special 
 science lies in that while the latter is f ^^f V^^^Jj^l^^^," 
 with the classification and description of certain isolated 
 «-roui>s of phenomena, or with formulating the real or 
 causil conditions of the possibility of t^iese^ groups co^^^^ 
 sidered per se, the former is occupied with the totality ot 
 all phenomena, either as concerns its real cmdihms m 
 time (cosmology and i^sycholoirj), or itB elemental cmiditiom 
 i e. the conditions of its possibility (metaphvsie proper) * 
 Science is concerned with a part for itself alone, while 
 philosophy, if it concerns itself with any part or isola ed 
 group of phenomena at all, only regards it m its relation 
 » Of the distinction between real md elemental conditions, we shall 
 have^cLln to treat more at length in a subaequent division of the 
 present work. 
 
 IXTROD.] 
 
 I. WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 
 
 to the whole, or as a necessary propaedeutic to a coherent 
 view of the whole. 
 
 The word philosophy tradition states to have been fiiht 
 used by Pythagoras. This semi-mythical personage, ac- 
 cording to the well-known legend, when asked by Leon, 
 the tyrant of Phloeus, what vocation he followed, replied 
 that he had none, but that he was a philosopher. On 
 being interrogated as to the meaning of the word, he 
 replied, that as in the Olympic Games some sought glorv, 
 others gain, while others, more noble, came to enjoy the 
 spectacle; so in life, while there were many prepared to 
 work for honour, many for riches, there were ^et a few 
 who, despising all these things, found their occupation in 
 the contemplation and knowledge of nature and man, and 
 that these were the philosophers. 
 
 In the dialogue Euthydemus, Plato defines philosophy 
 ariVts IvKTr-qixT]^. It is concerned alone with the ideal, 
 and is identical with icisdom, as opposed to opinion, the 
 subject-matter of which is the sensible. Aristotle some- 
 times employs the term in a general sense, so as to include 
 all science, but retains its narrower signification for what 
 would now be termed Ontology, namely, the science of 
 Being, in itself, as opposed to the subject-matter of the 
 special sciences. The Stoics defined wisdom (oro<^ta), as 
 the science of divine and human things, but philosophy 
 {<f}tXoao<f)La)* as the endeavour after perfection, theoretic 
 and ])ractical, in the three departments of Logic, Physic, 
 and Ethic. Philosophy, with the Stoics, thus comprehended 
 the whole range of human interests, active no less than 
 speculative, but only as a disposition of character, not a 
 body of doctrine, for which the former term was reserved, 
 which hence corresponds properly to ' philosophy.' Epi- 
 curus,t in a similar way, calls philosophy the rational 
 endeavour after happiness. 
 
 The above were the leading definitions of the term in 
 antiquity. Turning to modern times, we find Christian 
 Woltf enunciating the following, in his ' Philosophia 
 Eationalis,' as an original definition of philosophical 
 knowledge : Cognitio rationis eorum, quse sunt vel fiant unde 
 
 ♦ Plutarch, ' De plsu:. philosop.' i. 
 
 * ' Empir. adv. Math.' xi. 169. 
 
 3 2 
 
4 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY ? [Intbod. 
 
 inteUigatur cur mni vel fiant. (A knowledge of the reason 
 of those things wliieh are or come to pass, by which it is 
 nnderstood why they are or come to pass.) Kant diyuleci 
 all knowledge into historical, cognitio ex datw (knowledge 
 through facts), and rational, cognitm ex pnneipm l™ow- 
 ledge through |)rinciple8). The last was again divided 
 into mathematical knowledge, tlirough the construction 
 of conceptions, and philosophical knowledge, through 
 conceptions as such. The post-Kantian dehnitions ot 
 philosophy in Germany have been in most instances 
 based on special systems. Thus Herbart dehnes philo- 
 8oi)hy as the working-out of conceptions, this working- 
 our. consisting in definition, classification, &c. He divides 
 i)hilos(>phy into three main departments: logic, meta,- 
 phynic, and aisthetic, the last-named including ethic. 
 vSchelling defines philosophy as the science of the abso- 
 lute identity of subject and object ; Hegel, as the science 
 of the absolute, as dialectical movement, or, again, as 
 the science of the 8elf-(oiui>rehonding reason. As inde- 
 pendent definitions may l)e cited, Professor Zellers (^ire- 
 Socratic Philosoi.liy,' vol. i. p. 8, of the English trans- 
 lation): "Thought that is methodical, and directed ma 
 conscious manner lo tlie cognition of things in their interde- 
 pendence," In 8clioi)enhauer {Parerga und Parahpomena, 
 vol. ii. p. 10), we find the fi)ll(»wiiig : '^ Philosophy, it is true, 
 has experience for its subject-matter, yet not like the 
 other sciences, tliis or tliat particular experience ; but 
 rather exi)erience itself in general, as such, according to 
 its possibility, its range, its essential content, its internal 
 and external elements, its form and matter. J^or 
 Auguste Comto, philosoidiy consists in the methodical 
 filiation of the special sciences, according to a unitying 
 concei>tion; for Herbert Spencer, it is similarly the 
 •■'unitication of kiio\vle<lge. _ 
 
 It may not l)e out of place, in an English Manual of 
 the Histoiy of Plulosophy to add a few words respecting 
 the perversion, and in some cases tlie degradation the 
 word has suffer.'d until recently in this countrv. ^^ 
 
 It will be seen that all the definitions of '' i'hilosophy 
 we have cited have tliis in common, tliat tliey involve the 
 universal, as opposed to the particular, as tlie subject of 
 
 Introd.] 
 
 L WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 
 
 investigation ; they all imply the conditions of the sum of 
 things as the subject-matter of inquiry, either directly or 
 indirectly. The remarks offered at the commencement of 
 this section on the scope of philosophy are sufficiently 
 comprehensive to cover all these definitions, while ab- 
 stracting from anything in them which would narrow 
 the term to any particular philosophical theory. 
 
 The Englishman, liowever, has until recently indulged 
 his fancy for garnishing his conversation with high- 
 sounding words by vulgarising the term philosophy into 
 meaning any kind of reasoning on any subject whatever. 
 Till within the last quarter of a century the expression 
 " natural i)hilosophy " figured, even in the syllabuses of 
 academic an«l learned bodies, as a designation for the 
 department of scientific research known as Physics, while 
 to the common man, chemistry, astronomy, physiology, 
 were no less *' philosophy." 
 
 We have ha<l, besides, philosophy of manufactures, of 
 love, of cookery ! There is a sense, of course, in which 
 the expressions " philosophy of history," or " philosophy 
 of nature," may be justifiably employed, where, namely, 
 history or nature, as wholes, are treated deductively in 
 the light of a philosophic theory or conception, as part 
 of a system ; but it is needless to say that it was not in 
 this sense that such phrases were formerly employed 
 among the English-speaking race. Tlie salutary change 
 whicli lias taken place in this respect within the last few 
 years is one more indication of the opening up of English 
 culture to continental, and especially German influences, 
 as well as of the philosophic revival visible throughout 
 English speaking communities. 
 
 The ancient division of philosophy was into Logic, 
 Physic (including Metaphysic), and Ethic. It is said that 
 this division had its origin with the Stoics. It was 
 certainly first definitely f •rmulated l)y tliem. But marked 
 indications of it are to be found in both Plato and Aristotle. 
 By Logic, or organon, was understood not merely formal 
 logic, but the doctrine of method in general, including 
 theory of knoAvledge (or what answered as such in the 
 ancient world), and to some extent psychology; under 
 physic was embraced cosmical theory, as well as ontology, 
 
6 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Introd. 
 
 ii short, all that pertained to the existence of things as 
 such; while Ethic covered the whole range ot active 
 human interests, including politics, although its ctiiet 
 problem was, in accordance with the later Greek attitude 
 of mind in such matters, the discovery of the ideal ot lite 
 for the individual. In the Middle Ages, when philosophy 
 was subordinated to the dogmas of Christian theology, no 
 systematic division was made. In modern times philosophy 
 
 of the Uermans. ine usuai ni-iiiit; tuat xx«.° i^--- 
 
 word in Great Britain, has not been wanting, however, 
 in this connection. Owing to the special line philosophical 
 development took in this island, to the influence, that i^ 
 of Locke and the Scotch psychologists, the word showed 
 a tendency even where legitimately employed to beconie 
 narrowed to psychology and ethic, or, as these departments 
 were usually designated, " mental and moral philosophy. 
 
 A not unnatural reaction against this view of the scope 
 of philosophy has been recently exhibited m a desire to 
 exclude psychology altogether from the ^^^^.^^ .«^ Pj^^^^^^^ 
 Bophical studies. It has been argued that mental 
 phenomena being amenable in all essential repects to the 
 inductive method employed in the study of material 
 phenomena, and only differing in being the object ot 
 internal rather than external observation (to use ttie 
 current phrase), there is no reason for regarding their 
 treatment in any other light than as constituting one 
 of the special sciences. To this it is replied, that 
 psychological investigation has a special, although in- 
 direct bearing on " theory of knowledge,' and a fiyrti(yn 
 on the whole subject-matter of philosophy ; a Ijearmg 
 which cannot be alleged of any objective science ; that 
 only within certain limits do the methods of the ob- 
 iective sciences apply to psychology ; that "there is 
 somethinff in Mind, as the subject-matter of i sych- 
 ology, unlike anything else," and that "the events 
 or states (however they are called) which psychologr 
 investigates " being " appreliended only in the peculiar 
 attitude of introspection, makes a profound difterence, &c. 
 ♦ Professor Croom Robertson in •Mind,' vol. viii. p. 9. 
 
 Introd.] 
 
 I. WHAT IS PHILOSOPHY? 
 
 It must be admitted, I think, that a good case is made out 
 in these, and similar arguments— in addition to anything 
 that might be urged from the universal practice of history— 
 for retaining Psychology as a department of Philosophy. 
 But conceding this, it must be none the less recognised as 
 holding a position quite subordinate to the higher depart- 
 ments, and the greater care must be taken to avoid 
 introducing psychological material into them, and thus 
 obscuring the main issue, one of the most fruitful sources 
 of fallacy and confusion. The leading problem of philosophy 
 is undoubtedly "Theory of Knowledge," to discover 
 the conditions under which knowledge, or experience, is 
 possible, in order to re-construct in the forms of abstract 
 thought according to its elements, the worid given as 
 constructed in concrete intuition. ^ 
 
 The advances made by science during the latter halt 
 of the present century have resulted in a striking 
 rehabilitation of cosmology, i.e. the systematic doctrine of 
 nature, or the object-world, as a leading philosophical 
 discipline. The doctrines of the Conservation of Energy 
 and of Evolution have given to cosmology definite guiding 
 principles for the abstract explanation of the world 
 according to its causal conditions, which can never be 
 taken from it, however their application may be modified 
 by subsequent research. ^ ^ , 
 
 The main departments of philosophic investigation are 
 these:— (1.) ''Theory of knmcledge ;" (2.) Ontology (if 
 such be admitted ; and (3.) Cosmology, To these must be 
 added as a pendent to cosmology, or the systematic 
 doctrine of objective or material nature, Psychology, or the 
 systematic doctrine of subjective or mental nature; the 
 phenomenology of the moral consciousness falling to be 
 dealt with by cosmology and psychology at their point of 
 contact in sociology. But inasmuch as all these depart- 
 ments are simply aspects of one reality to be explained— 
 to wit, the totality of knowledge— the great and ultimate 
 task of philosophy is to bridge over the chasms which 
 apparently divide them, to show their interconnection as 
 an organic whole, and their ultimate root in the conditions 
 of knowledge itself. 
 

 mSTOKY OP PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 II. The History of Philosophy. 
 
 [Introd. 
 
 Ae we remarked at tlie commencement of the last 
 Bection, tlie History of Philosophy is the history of the 
 unfolding to the Human Mind of the various problems 
 involved in experience, and the struggles of the reason 
 to resolve them. This has been sometimes attempted 
 in their entirety, but more frequently tlie necessity 
 has l>een felt of dealing with them separately, and it 
 has indeed not seldom happened that in the course 
 of their isolated treatment the view of the whole as the 
 end of philosoi)hy has been loft out of sight. 
 
 An objection has Ijeen raised to the history of philosophy 
 as an introduction to philosophic study, that in the neces- 
 sarily condensed expositions of systems which are given, the 
 tnie spirit of the founders is lost ; that the love of research 
 and devotion to truth which actuated them, and the steps 
 by wliich the systems reached their ultimate form, as well 
 as the conflict of tendencies of which they may be the 
 issue, can l>e at best but indicated in a dry and cursory 
 manner. It must be admitted that an amount of truth 
 underlies this criticism, especially as regards the greater 
 iiuml)er of actually extant hintories, and even the ideal 
 history, whenever it shall ai)pear, we can scarcely expect 
 will deprive it altogether of its point ; but it must we 
 think also be admitted that though no mere reading of 
 compilations will suffice for a serious philosophic culture, 
 yet that such compilations are a necessary aid to the 
 student, and further, that it is possible tor a history of 
 philosophy to be presented in a way in which the inherent 
 drawback complained of may be reduced to the minimum. 
 **The events which it is most important to comprehend," 
 savs Diihring truly, " do not stare one in the face." *' He who 
 will give account of the spiritual working of the greatest 
 minds must himself be capable of descending into the 
 depths." * A history of philosophy, to be of real use, 
 must not merely be an abstract of doctrines, but afford an 
 insight into the historical and psychological genesis of 
 those doctrines ,- and although no history of philosophy 
 
 * DUhring, ' Kritische Geschichte der Pbilosophie,' p. i. 
 
 iif 
 
 I 
 
 Introd.] II. THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 y 
 
 can approach the first-hand study of the works of philo- 
 sophers,* yet inasmuch as it is impossible for any but 
 a very small number of students to construct for them- 
 selves even the history of a single period from original 
 sources, a surrogate is requisite, and need not of necessity 
 be an altogether inadequate one. 
 
 The history of philosophy has been written mainly 
 on three different plans. There is the compilation-history, 
 which consists in a collection of undigested anecdotes, 
 facts, and bald, and for the most part loose, statements of 
 opinion. Then there is the tendency-history, which reads 
 into the ideas of the past, the doctrines of a modern system 
 or code of ideas ; and, in addition, seeks for conformity 
 with the method of this system in the course of historical 
 development. Lastly, there is the critical-history, ^ in 
 which a spirit of scientific acumen and a comparative 
 criticism is brought to bear at once upon the authorities 
 used, the doctrines treated, and the filiation of those 
 doctrines. 
 
 Of these several plans, the first is the most utterly 
 execrable, and the last, it need scarcely be said, the only 
 one capable of furnishing a uniformly reliable history. 
 It must not be supposed, however, that in denying this 
 character of any tendeiucy-history as such, we imply that 
 the history has no tendency ; for just as general history 
 exhibits a certain determinate course of development, so 
 does the history of pliilosophy. But the duty of the 
 historian, as historian, is to maintain strictly an objective 
 attitude, merely pointing out that element in systems 
 which perpetually recurs — which in various guises is unmis- 
 takably present— in all the more important thinkers, from 
 those elements which are traceable to the personality and 
 the age or the country, while being cautious with appa- 
 rently striking anticipations of modern thought. It is 
 perhaps a failing in most existing histories, that the 
 evolution of philosophy is too much isolated. It is not 
 sufficiently brought into connection with the history of 
 civilisation or with historic evolution generally. It surely 
 cannot but lie within the province of the historian of 
 
 ♦ This does not, of course, apply to the fragmentary works of ancient 
 authors, which require special research and critical treatment. 
 
10 
 
 HISTOBY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Introd. 
 
 philosophy to trace the action and reaction of speculative 
 thought upon its surroundings, intellectual and material. 
 Although we cannot expect to cany out this principle 
 to its full extent in a volume like the present, an effort will 
 be made to indicate the leading points of coniact between 
 the philosophy and the general intellectual conditions of 
 the several epochs. 
 
 The earliest, and the only ancient history of philosophy, 
 in the proper sense of the word, which has come down to us, 
 is that of Diogenes Laertius, who wrote probably about the 
 third century. It is a bad specimen of a bad class, the 
 compilation-history, but being one of the most copious 
 sources of information respecting the lives and characters 
 of the ancient philosophers, has been extensively utilised 
 by all subsequent writers. The work of Diogenes is, 
 however, so utterly uncritical, and in many respects 
 childish, that it requires to bo used with the utmost 
 caution. 
 
 The first modern history is that of the Englishman, 
 Thomas Stanley, which wab originally published in 1655, 
 and passed through three editions, being re-issued in 1687 
 and 1701. The work is confined to ancient philosophy, 
 and is a mere compilation from Laertius and other classical 
 writers. Contemporaneously with Stanley, a certain 
 Jacobus Thomasius published an ecclesiastical and philo- 
 sophical history combined, in Latin, at Leipsic. This was 
 succeeded in 1697 by the great Diciionnaire hisiorique et 
 critique of Bayle, which, although not strictly-si^eaking a 
 history, nor 'concerning itself exclusively with philo- 
 Bophical matters, is entitled to mention, on account of the 
 dimensions and importance of its articles on the Greek 
 philosophers. 
 
 The first history in which modern philosophy was 
 treated of appears to have been the Histoire Critique de 
 la Philosophie, in 3 vols., by Deslandes. (Taris, 1730-6.) 
 More important than the last-mentioned was the Historia 
 Critica Philosophise a mundo incunahulia ad noatram usque 
 setatem deducta Johann Jakob Brucker (5 vols.; Leipsic, 
 1742). Brucker's work, although by no means critical in 
 the modem sense of the word, is an undoubted advance 
 upon its predecessors, at once in scope, in method and in 
 
 Introd.] II. THE HISTORY OP PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 11 
 
 style. The historical point of view is certainly absent, 
 but where not clouded by prejudice (for Brucker was a 
 tendeijcy-writer of the most pronounced type), Brucker 
 exhibits an amount of discernment, to be looked for m 
 vain in previous writers. The standpoint is Leibnitzian. 
 Brucker's work was condensed into English, by Enfield, 
 and published in a single volume in 1791. 
 
 It was succeeded after the lapse of a few years by an 
 Italian History of Philosophy, by one Cromaziano, subse- 
 quently translated into German. Next came Tiedemann's 
 Geist der Speculativen Phihsophie (Strasburg, 1791-7). 
 This work extends iTom Thales to Berkeley— the stand- 
 point is Leibnitz-Wolfian. Tiedemann was the first to 
 attempt an objective handling of the history of philosophy. 
 I'he method and style of the work is a marked advance 
 on Brucker's, in fact Tiedemann maybe looked upon as m 
 many respects the founder of the modern critical history 
 of philosophy. From this time forward, histories of 
 philosophy, and works on the history of philosophy, form 
 a leading feature in the literature of Germany. It will 
 be only necessary to mention and characterise the most im- 
 portant of these treatises. The great Kantian movement 
 produced several works of the kind, partly of a tendency, 
 and partly of a critical nature. First in order comes 
 Johann Gottlieb Buhle's Lehrhuch der Geschichte der Phloso- 
 phie (8 vols. ; Gottingen, 1796-1 804> The work is Kantian, 
 leaning to the mystical tendencies of Jacobi and his school. 
 The most meritorious of the pure Kantian histories is 
 that of Tennemann, an unfinished work in eleven volumes, 
 an abridgment of wliich in English has formed one of 
 the volumes in Bohn's library. From the standpoint 
 of Schelling, we have Eixner's Handhuch der Geschichte 
 der Philosophie (3 vols.; Salzbach, 1822-23). Ernst Rein- 
 hold's Handhuch der Allgemeinen Geschichte der Philo- 
 Sophie (3 vols. ; Gotha, 1828-30,} which passed through 
 two or three editions, is spoken of as ineritonous. But 
 the history which until recently has been unanimously 
 regarded as the standard authority, not only in Gerniany, 
 but throughout Europe, is Bitter's Geschchte der Philo- 
 mphie (12 vols; Hamburg, 1829-30: 2nd ed. 1836-38). 
 fitter's accurate scholarship combined with his impar- 
 
12 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [iNxeoD. 
 
 k 
 
 V 
 
 / 
 
 < 
 
 tiality to give his work a value likely to endure, m spite 
 of recent advances in research. • i t- i 
 
 In 1B33, two years after Hegel's death, his disciple Karl 
 Lndwig Michelet* published his masters Lectures on the 
 History of Philosopliy, in the collected edition of Hf gel's 
 works. Hegel's history is the most perfect representative 
 of the tendency-history we possess. It is based on the 
 positinns that, though every form of historical reality has 
 its relative justification, there exists beside these justifi- 
 able systems their negations, which are n(»t even relatively 
 justifiable; that the Hegelian system forms, so far as 
 'essentials reach, an absolute conclusion to the course of 
 historical development ; and that the historical sequence 
 of philosophical standpoints must coincide witli the logical 
 sequence of categories. These principles arr carrifd out 
 in the course of the exiwsition witli the rigour of logic, 
 and the clever maniitulation of data cliaracteristic of 
 
 He*'''el. 
 
 By for the most popular history of philosophy is that 
 of Al bert tSeh \vegler, in one volume. Since its first 
 publication in 1848 it has passed through nearly a dozen 
 editions in Germany. It has also Ikjcu twice translated 
 into English bv J. 'll. Seelye, in America, and with an- 
 notations by Mr. Hutchison Stirling, the last-mentioned 
 rendering being now in its eighth edition. Schwegler's 
 work is rigorously impartial, and contains a mass of 
 closely-packed information ; but his presentation is some- 
 what arid and unappreciative. Of more recent treatises, 
 for the combination of exhaustive research and fulness of 
 detail, with critical appreciation, Uijberweg^ Histo] Q% the 
 English translation of which is w.H kn..\vn, occupies the 
 foremost rank. The work of .lohann Eduard Erdmann, 
 though not so well known in England, is almost as much 
 read in Germany at the present time. Erdmanii's literary 
 faculty is much greater than UeljerAveg's. Among those 
 treatises whose renown is as much literary as philosoi)hical, 
 may be mentioned Lange's * History of Materialisni,' trans- 
 lated into all the more" important Europeairlanguages, 
 
 and in Germany become almost a classic, and the small 
 
 • K. L. Michelet must not be confounded with Jalcs Michelet, tl.e 
 eminent French Ijietorian and essayist. 
 
 IxTRon] II. THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 13 
 
 Geschichfe der PJiilosophie Tcritiscl dargestelU of Diihring. 
 The latter, although so far as we are aware untranslated at 
 present, is as remarlxable for the brilliancy and clearness 
 of its style as for its strongly marked tendency-character. 
 The Latin nations, not excepting France, have failed m 
 acliieving great original research in the history of philo- 
 sophy. Among the principal modern French treatises on 
 the subject may be mentioned Degerando's Histolre comparee 
 des Syfitemes de la Phlhsophie (4 vols.; Paris,^ 1822-3). 
 J F. Nourrissou's Tahleau des progrk de la pensee humaine 
 de Thalesjmqua Hegel (Paris, 1858). Laforet's Histoire de 
 h Philosophie (Brussels and Paris, 1867). Alfred Weber's 
 Hif^toire de la Philosophie Europeenne ; Alfred Fouillee's 
 Histoire de la Philosophie (Paris, 1874). The Vest-known 
 French history is Victor Cousin's Histoire Gewrale de la 
 Philosophie depuis les temps les plus reeules jmqira la Jin du 
 xviir siecle (5th ed. ; Paris, 18C3). The few Italian and 
 Spanish treatises do not call for any special notice. 
 
 The first English history of philosophy, alter Stanley s, 
 was the execrable compilation from Brncker by W illiam 
 Eniield, first published towards the close of the last 
 century. This was followed by Johnson's translation of v 
 Tennemann's small manual (subsequently reprinted, J 
 \v"^^afIiIHions and annotations, in Bohn's Philosophical / 
 Library). Pobert Blakey's 'History of the Philosophy | 
 of 1^1 ind' appeare.l in 1848; and shortly after the late 
 F. I). IMauriee's, so far as style is concerned, cleverly 
 written 'History of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy. 
 But more widely read than any of these was the 
 * Biooraidiical History of Thilosophy' of the late George 
 HeniT Lewes, first \mblished in 1845, in four pocket 
 volumes, and expanded in 1867 (2nd ed., revised ^1871) 
 into''lhe History of Philosoi.hy from Thales to Comte,' 
 in two thick volumes (crown 8vo.). Lewes, who writes 
 more i.articnlarlv fnaii the standpoint of the Philosophie 
 positive, but generally from that of English empiricism, 
 furnishes an example of a probably unique dcyelopnient 
 of the tendencv-history. to wit, the didactic-history. 
 There is no positive reading of the author's own position 
 into the systems of older thinkers, or distortion of those 
 8^ stems in the course of their development, as in the ten- 
 

 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Intkod. 
 
 dency-historj^ proper, but they one and all serve as foils to 
 the superior wisdoni of the empirical philosophy m general, 
 and the positive philosophy in particular. This is their only 
 purpose save in so far as they, here and there, show weak 
 and falterinir adumbrations of the " one true method. 
 
 To Mr. Hutchison Stirling's highly successful trans- 
 lation of Schwcgler reference has already been made. 
 The latest, and perhaps most important contribution to 
 works in English on the general history of philosophy 
 is the translation of Ueberweg's work, published a few 
 years since by Messrs. Hodder & Stoughton. The present 
 work, although limited in point of size, it is our aim to 
 render as complete as possible in all points essential to 
 the student, while omitting unimportant details. 
 
 ( 15 ) 
 
 THE ORIENTxlLS. 
 
 At the outset of the history of philosophy, as of other 
 departments of culture, we are confrvmted with the pre- 
 historic region occupied by the primitive theocratic civili- 
 sations of the Oriental world, of Egypt and Asia. The 
 view largely prevalent, at the end of the last and begin- 
 ning of the present century, was that these social 
 orc-anisations were the surviving monuments of a high 
 primitive culture. In the light of the scientific con- 
 ception of history, to which modern research and criticism 
 has accustomed us, they are seen to be cases of arrested 
 development, or of premature decay. The evolutionary 
 principle in them, S) to speak, their capacity for spon- 
 taneous development and progress, exhausted itselt betore 
 the birth of that great world-evolution constituting the 
 history of Humanity proper, and of which ancient 
 Greece and modern Europe, with its colonies, are the 
 extreme terms. The sixth century before Christ, or 
 thereabouts, the age of Gautama, Confucius, Zoroaster 
 and Thales, is the dawn of history in the latter sense. 
 The history of the modern world is closely and de- 
 finitely knitted to that of the Middle Ages, and this again 
 to the history of ancient Greece and Rome, the whole 
 forming an organise i system. But the di^rect mflaence 
 upon the classical civilisations of those of Assyria, Baby- 
 lonia, Palestine, China, India, or even Egypt is at best 
 obscure. For this reason we do not purpose dwelling at 
 any length on the quasi-philosophies, or more properly 
 theosophies, of the East. 
 
 It is i)robable that a considerable body of theosophic lore 
 was enshrined in the Egyptian temples ; but encased as it 
 
16 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 was in mythological language, and coming to ns as most 
 of it does tlirungli Greek sources, it is impossible to give 
 anything approaching a coherent and correct view ot its 
 general features. The Semitic race, on the other hand, 
 has never in any of its branches produced an original 
 philosoi)hic or even theosophic system of itn own. Ihe 
 Semitic mii>d is, in its pure state, anti-philosophical. 
 Though it has given to the world no less than three 
 important ethical religions, we searcli in vain through the 
 whole body of pure Semitic literature, that is, such as 
 reflects the Semitic intellect unaffected by non-Semitio 
 culture {e.g. the Hebrew Scriptures and the Koran), for a 
 single trace even of a philosophic thought, much less a 
 system, unless indeed we choose, as some have done, to read 
 a metaphysical meaning into the old Hebrew formula, "I 
 am that I am "—the general character and isolated position 
 of which, however, would give colour to the hypothesis 
 of an Egyptian origin. The fragments of reputed Assyrian 
 and Akkadian literature are likewise .entirely destitute 
 of a philosophical side. In the Medo-Persian literature, 
 as that of an Aryan race, we miglit naturally ex[>ect to 
 find scmethiiig like a philosophy, and, in fact, the latter 
 portions of tlie Zend-Avesta sliow attempts to render the 
 theological doctrine of the dual principle philosophic. 
 But tlicre is even hi'ie no sign of an independent 
 and originfil philosophical movement. In China the only 
 ancient^vriting possessing any speculative interest is that 
 of Lao-tse, born B.C. 604, and the main i)osition of which 
 is practically identical with tliat of Indian Metaphysic, 
 thou<»-h alleged to liave teen uninfluenced by it; but 
 there' is much in the treatise of a purely theological 
 character, and devoid of all jdiilosophic interest. 
 
 It is in India, that we first find a «listinct and unmis- 
 takable i.hilosophic development. In the sixth century 
 I)efore Christ, when the non-Aryan monarchies of Egypt, 
 Phoenicia, Babylonia, and A^8vria, were sinking into 
 decay, and their empires fast becoming disintegrated by 
 forei'*ni influences, the Hinde.o8 felt the thrill ot that 
 mighty wav(^ of energy heralding the liirth of the new 
 human consciousnesH-^moral, intellectual, and religious 
 —which was consequent on the decline of the earliest 
 
 THE ORIENTALS. 
 
 17 
 
 forms of civilisation. But the philosophic development 
 of India is deprived of the interest which would other- 
 wise attach to it, owing to its separation from that of 
 the main trunk of the historic races, and its consequent 
 crudity and limitation in scope. 
 
 The sacred philosophy (so-called) of India is contained 
 in the Upanischads, or third section of the Vedic scrip- 
 tures. Their main thesis consists of the monistic idea of 
 the one true existent Absolute, spoken of variously under 
 the names of Paramatlman, Brahman, as opposed to the 
 world of falsity and appearance, or the Maya. The Maya 
 is the negation of Brahman. In itself, Brahman is unthink- 
 able and undifferentiated in-ness of Being ; only through 
 the illusion, or the Maya, dues it become conscious, mutable, 
 undividualised. " As tlie colours in the flame or the 
 red-hot iron proceed therefrom a thousandfold, so do all 
 beings proceed from the Unchangeable, and return again 
 to it." "As the web issues from the spider, as little 
 sparks proceed from fire, so from the one sonl proceed all 
 living animals, all worlds, all the gods and all beings." 
 *' Two birds (the Paramathman, the universal soul, and 
 Jkathman, the individual soul) inhabit the same tree 
 (abide in the same body), tfec." 
 
 " As from a blazing fire substantial sparks proceed in a 
 thousand ways, so from the imperishable various souls are 
 produced, and they return to him." These, and numberless 
 other passages of similar purport, are to be found scattered 
 throughout the Upanischads. The one theme is varied in 
 a hundred different ways, but its substance is the same. 
 This Metaphysic of the Upanischads, as will be readily 
 seen, is, to the last degree, abstract. No modus vivendi 
 exists between the Absolute One and 'the world of " many- 
 hued reality "—between the real and the non-real. The 
 practical consequence of this is an Ethic of Asceticism, 
 which has absolute indiflxTcnce and passivity for its ideal 
 
 of life. 
 
 A little later than the Upanischads, which are for the 
 most part poetic in character— and rather semi-conscious 
 attempts to picture the mystery vaguely felt, than con- 
 scious eftbrts to explain it— come the six philosophical 
 systems— properly so-called. Their dates are supposed 
 
 c 
 
Xo 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 to lie between tlie foiirth and fiftli centuries before Clirist. 
 The first in order is the Nyaya, founded by Gotama ; the 
 second, the Vaisehika of Kanada ; the third, the Sdnhhja 
 of Kapila; the fourth, the Yoga of Patanjali; the fifth, 
 the Mimdnsik of Jaimini ; and the sixth, the Veddnta of 
 Badarayana or Vyasa. These systems are given in the 
 form of Sutras or Aphorisms. The Nyaifa is essentially a 
 system of Logic. It deals at length with the proposition, 
 the syllogism, the category, the predicable, &c. The 
 Vaiseshika is a supplementary development of the Nyaya, 
 but in addition to its elaboration of the categories fur- 
 nished in the former, it contains a definite cosmology of 
 an atomistic character. The resemblance of this to the 
 Greek atomism, and even in some respects to that of 
 modern science, is htriking. The foundation of the 
 Sankhya philosophy is a Monism, which in the course of 
 the system issues in a species of Dualism. The distinction 
 between matter and spirit is insisted upon ; it being 
 laid down as an axiom that the production of mind from 
 matter, as of something from nothing, is an absurdity. 
 The Sankhya also contains a systematic theory of Emana- 
 tion. The Yoga is a kind of pendant to the Sankhya, 
 Its bearing is mainly practical. It treats of the means by 
 which the individual soul may attain union with the 
 universal soul, these means being asceticism of the most 
 drastic description. In the Mimama we have no properly 
 philosophical doctrine taught, and indeed its claim to 
 rank among the philosophical systems rests solely on its 
 logical method. Its central idea is the deification of the 
 Veda and Vedic ritual. It is opposed to both rationalism 
 and theism, the Veda being the supreme authority. The 
 Vedanta is really little more than an expansion of the 
 doctrines of the Upanischads of the one Substance 
 Brahma realised in the world, or more accurately the one 
 really existent Brahma manifested in the world of illusion 
 and plurality, to which, at most, a practical existence can 
 be ascribed. The iMjrsonal soul— the Jivathman—thTOMgh. 
 ignorance mistakes itself and the world for real things. 
 Once it is set free from this ignorance, and arrives at a 
 proper understanding of the truth, the illusion vanishes, 
 and it sees the identity of itself and the world with the 
 
 THE ORIENTALS. 
 
 19 
 
 universal soul, the one Paramathman. As will be appa- 
 rent, wellnigh the whole theosophy and philosophy of 
 India turns upon a more or less poetically expressed 
 Monism. Its drawback consists in the fact that it is 
 abstract, and incapable of liiruishing a coherent and 
 logically determined view of conscious reality as a whole, 
 and also from its vague and mystical character, which 
 precludes scientific deduction of the data of consciousness 
 from the outset. Besides the six dogmatic systems^ we 
 have noticed, the Hindoos possess an empirical, sceptical, 
 and materialist school in that of Can- ak a and his followers, 
 whose doctrines and even their mode of statement bear a 
 close resemblance to those of La Mettrie, and the French 
 rationalism of the last century. Some also reckon the 
 eclectic Pantheistic doctrine contained in the Bhagavad- 
 gita, as forming a distinct system. 
 
 In reviewing the prehistoric civilisations, that is, such 
 as are found complete in all essentials at the dawn of 
 history, and even then laying claim to a remote antiquity, 
 we find that the great awakening of the sixth century 
 (circa) passed over some of them without response. Of 
 this class are the Egyptian, Assyrian, Chaldean, and 
 Phoenician, with probably the Lydian and other civilisa- 
 tions of Asia Minor. Others again, such as the Aryan 
 civilisations of Hiudoostan and Persia, and to a lesser 
 extent that of China, responded to the impulse of the new 
 movement ; but the results of the awakening sooner or 
 later became crystallised, thus resolving themselves into 
 mere accretions on the previously existing culture, which 
 hence speedily relapsed into its former state of stagnation. 
 The first had lost their independent vitality ere history 
 diiwned. The second had enough vitality to respond to 
 the impulse agitating the world around them, but were 
 too old and set for its influence to be more than very 
 
 partial. i. • 
 
 In contrast to these ancient Oriental civilisations already 
 " in the sere and yellow leaf," we find the Greek civilisa- 
 tion bursting intolife, and forming the focus of the newly 
 awakened individual consciousness. Here there was a 
 culture forming, and not fixed into a more or less rigid 
 groove. Hence with the Greece of the sixth century and 
 
20 
 
 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 its colonies, we enter on the history of the main stream of 
 human development. There is no longer the tendency to 
 universal crj^stallisation, discoverable in all the prehistoric 
 civilisations of the East. Henceforth the ever-widening 
 stream never l)ecome8 completely frozen over. There is 
 always a channel left for the currents of progress. For 
 this reason, it is only in so far as the ancient civilisations 
 acted or were reacted upon by the European civilisation of 
 the classical nations, or that of their successors, that they 
 have any real historical as distinguished from anthropological 
 significance. In concluding the present section, we may 
 observe that 'pliilosophy, as the jjroduct of a conscious 
 effort to explain the world, cannot be said to have existed 
 prior to the awakening of the human mind to definite 
 consciousness of itself. Not until man deUherately formulated 
 to himself for their own salce, and not to subserve religious 
 or other ends, the pr(tblem8. What am I ? What is my 
 relation to the world ? What is the principle of the world ? 
 can he be said to have begun to philosophise. Hence we 
 may fairly deny the title philosophy to any such theories 
 of the world, as the theogonies, cosmogonies, and theo- 
 sophies which obtained previously to this epoch. In no 
 ancient country do we find an original movement of a 
 philosopliic character outside Greece with, as we have seen, 
 the solitary excei)tion of India. But in India the move- 
 ment was but of short duration, and lias exercised compara- 
 tively little influence on history. We pass on, therefore, 
 to a consideration of the first period of Greek philosophy. 
 
 As among the best authorities for Oriental thought, apart from the 
 ancient books themselves in their vjirioius translations, may be men- 
 tioned, for the Egyptians, Gardner Wilkinson's 'Ancient Egyptians,' 
 and Bunsen's ' Egypt's Place in Universal Hi^tory.' For the Chinese, 
 Pautliier's E»qui88e (Vune hi$toire de la Philogopfiie chinoise, and 
 Plath's Religion und Ctdtus der alten CfiiHtxen. Among the numerous 
 works on the Indians, Monier Williams's * Indian Wisdom,' contains a 
 good account of Indian thought ; also Colebrooke's ' Essays on the 
 Fhilosojthy of the Hindoos,' in his 'Miscellaneous Essays'; various 
 translations of the Koyal Asiatic Society ; and Earth's ' Keligions of 
 India,' which gives an excellent general view of the subject ; for 
 Buddliism, may be cit«'d the various Review and other articles of 
 Mr. Khys Davids; Burnoufs Iidrodudkm a rhixfoire du Bonddhisi<me. 
 tiidicj* ; and Spencer Hardy'i*Legendi and Theories of the Buddhists.' 
 
 ( 21 ) 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In Greek philosophy there are six well-marked periods. (I. ) 
 that of the Pre-Socratic Schools ; (II.) the period of Socrates 
 and what are commonly termed the imperfect Socratists ; 
 (HI.) the culminating epoch of Greek thought in Plato and 
 Aristotle ; (lY.) the commencement of its specialisation, 
 and decline with the Stoics, Epicureans and the various 
 Sceptical schools ; (V.) the period subsequent to the Roman 
 conquest characterised by the recrudescence of the earlier 
 pre-Socratic doctrines, or what may be termed the anti- 
 quarian period; and (VI.) the period of Neo-Platonism. 
 with which ancient philosophy closes. Respecting this 
 arrangement, it may be desirable to remark that I have 
 filiated the imperfect Socratic schools directly on to 
 Socrates, in preference to placing them after Plato and 
 Aristotle, for the reason that they seem more immediately 
 tlie outcome of the actual Socratic teaching, so far as 
 it has come down to us. With the Cyrenaics, the 
 Cynics, the Megarics, the chief, where not the sole 
 subject-matter of philosophy, remains, as with Socrates, 
 ethical ; the teaching was mainly oral, while, generally 
 speaking, the doctrines themselves are directly traceable to 
 utterances or actions of the historical Socrates. Plato and 
 Aristotle, on the other hand, cannot be said to have received 
 more than an impulse from Socrates. It is next to certain 
 that they could not have obtained a single specidative 
 doctrine from their master, while the extent to which the 
 dialectical methotl of l*lato's dialogues is attributable to 
 Socrates or Plato himself, is, and will probably remain, a 
 matter of dispute. In both I'lato and Aristotle, philosophy, 
 which Socrates had expressly subordinated to practical 
 
22 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [ErocH I. 
 
 Epoch I.] 
 
 THE PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 23 
 
 issues, is extended to the widest speculative questions- 
 questions which, so far as we know, never even occurred 
 to Socrates, as they had certainly not occurred to his 
 
 predecessors. 
 
 After the great original achievements of these two 
 giant thinkers, Greek thought ceased to be productive, 
 and confined itself to the reproduction and development of 
 pre-Socratic, Socratic, Platonic, or Aristotelian doctrines ; in 
 the end absorbing Oriental theosophy. The pre-Socratic 
 philosophy falls under two sections ; the first comprising 
 what are usually known as the Ionian, the Italian, and 
 the Eleatic schools ; and the second taking in Herakleitos, 
 Empedoklcs, the Atomists (Demokritos and Leukippus), 
 and Anaxagoras. 
 
 In considering these early stages in the history of 
 philosophy, we nnist guard ourselves from reading into 
 systems ideas pertaining to later phases in the evolution 
 of thought. There is a difficulty for many of us, ac- 
 customed as we are to modern rules of philosophising, 
 in realising the naive and crude fashion in which great 
 ju'obleiiis presented themselves to the early thinkers, 
 and the still more crude attempts at solution which 
 satisfied them. It is essential to bear in mind, especially 
 in the scliu< )l8 of our first section, that distinctions and 
 modes of statement, familiar to us now as household 
 words, were with them non-existent — such, for instance, 
 as iVlaterialism and Idealism, Theism and Atheism, Subjec- 
 tive and Objective, Knowing and Being, Mind and 
 IVIatter. Hence, for example, it is impossible to label 
 Thales as materialist or immaterialist, theist or atheist, and 
 the attempt to do so only shows an utter lack of historical 
 insight. The problems, or the aspects of problems, of 
 which these expressions connote the supposed solution, 
 had not as yet appeared above the liorizon of speculation, 
 and hence this teriiiinology is altogether devoid of meaning. 
 The lonians were merely naive Ilylozoists, that is, they 
 simply took the world as they found it ; to them the object 
 of external perception (as existent), being the all, the 
 onlj^hing staiiding in need of explanation. Accordingly, 
 tlie problem was to find the ultimate form of that object, 
 a particular form from which all other forms were deriva- 
 
 4 
 
 \ 
 
 tive. Thales pronounced this to be Wato ; Anaximenes 
 Air ; and Anaximander, aforinless chaoiTThey might, and 
 iTis likely enough did, rai^vem the gods of their age and 
 country ; but these gods, like the souls of men and demons, 
 were conceived, no less than the other objects of the wodd, 
 as entities constituted of this same primitive matter. I he 
 attitude of mind represented by the early Ionian specu- 
 lators was that of a simple childlike questioning, which 
 readily accepts the first answer that offers itself, and with 
 this rests satisfied, without waiting to test its consistency 
 even with itself, much less with fact. 
 
 For Greek philosophy in general, the best work is Professor Eduard 
 Zellcr's Philomphie der Griechen. some of the vohimes of whicli have 
 beeu published separately in English ; that on the pre-Socratie philosophy 
 is translat.'d by S. F. Alleyne : also Dyk's VermkraiiBche Fhdosophie. 
 Of the ordinar/ histories of Philosophy, Ritter's may be mentioned as 
 rmrticularlv full on the pre-Socratic scliools as on ancient philosophy 
 SSr An English translation of this portion orRitter (in 4 vols.) 
 
 Kbui is now out of print and scarce. Ritter and l^^^^f^^^lfFe 
 of Fragments ' is also a standard work. Brandis Handbuchder ire- 
 VchiscUe der ariecfdsch-IWmisehe Plulomphie has considerable vahie. 
 No g(K>d English work specially devoted to ancient philosophy exists / 
 with tlie exception of Ferriers ' Pre-Socratic Philosophy. Of the / 
 nnmerrl critical and ^^v^^n essays in Latin and German on 
 in.iividual philosopliers and special questions of scholarship, only tho.-e 
 of interest to the general student will be mentioned. 
 
 EPOCH L-THE PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 I. THE IONIAN SCHOOLS. 
 
 ThALES. 
 
 Thalrs, one of the seven sages, is the reputed founder of 
 Greek philosophy. He was born about B.C. 624, but the 
 exact date is uncertain, at Miletus, whence his ancestors 
 are said to have migrated from Ba30tia Of the numerous 
 saws attributed to him, and his kno^vledge of Mathematics 
 and Astronomy, it is not necessary to speak at length. It 
 is sufficient to observe tliat Thales was one oi the most 
 famous mathematicians and astronomers of ancienUimes, 
 is alleged to have introduced geometry to the Cjreeks, 
 
Ml Jl 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [El'OCH I. 
 
 Epoch I.] 
 
 THE PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 25 
 
 ^ 
 
 and to have been the first to foretell eclipses. Some doubt 
 exists as to the authenticity of tlie htuij of his Egyptian 
 journey, and still more as to his having acquired li is learn- 
 ing from Egyptian sources. Little or nothing is known 
 with certainty as to his life, thuii-h tliere are numerous 
 legends respecting it. 
 
 The claim of Thales to be the founder of philosophy 
 rests on his having been the first to attempt to explain 
 the world on a non-mythological and iion-theological 
 principle. He propounded the question. What is the ulti- 
 mate substance to which all things arc reducible ? and 
 answered it by asserting tlie i>riinitive sii]»stance to be icater. 
 How he arrived at this conclusion is not known, nor indeed 
 the manner in which he conceived the world to be evolved, 
 though, judging from the analogy of kindred systems,^ this 
 was by a process of condensation and ranjartion. There 
 have been plenty of theories as to how Thales was led to 
 his central doctrine (ejj. Aristotle's, that it was by obser- 
 ving that the seeds of all tilings are moist), but they are 
 one and all purely conjectural. Various cosmological specu- 
 lations were attributed to Thales in ancient times, among 
 others, that tin; cfirtli was a flaUlisc flitatin;; upon waifil ; 
 that the heavenly lx)di(3S were glowing masses; also 
 theories resi>ecting the nature of demons, lieroes, &c. 
 
 All the reports concerning the doctrines of Thales are, 
 however, of so doubtful and contradictory a nature, that it 
 is impossible to assert any tiling with certainty respecting 
 them, except as C( tncerus the cardinal th esis of water being 
 the prineii)le of all tilings. If we are to believe some ot 
 these reports, lie seems to have Ijeon liardly, if at all, eman- 
 cipated from the animistic or fetischistie attitude of mind 
 peculiar to the early stages of human culture ; but this 
 would api>ear scarcely compatible with those which 
 credit him with a comparatively high degree of scientific 
 attainment. 
 
 Anaximandros. 
 
 A, 
 
 4» .•T\' 
 
 Aj$. 'V!^-^% v-^'""* 
 
 eLt^v 
 
 Anaximandros, or, as it is usually Anglicised, Anaxi- 
 mander, was also a native of Miletus, and a younger con- 
 temporary, and some say pupil of Thales. The date of his 
 
 birth is given as b.c. 611. Nothing is known of his life. 
 Report states that he wms also proficient in geography and 
 astronomy ; that he designed the first map and celestial 
 globe ; and, according to some, invented the sun-dial, though 
 I others attribute this to Thales or Pherekydes. He un- 
 doulitedly wrote the first philosophical treatise, its main 
 thesis being that into that whence things arise, they must 
 return ; that this primal substance, which he is the first 
 to designate by the word principle (apx^/)' j^ ^ formless 
 and infinite matter, incorruptible and eternal, and that ot 
 its own inherent force things arise from it and pass into 
 it again, or perhaps we might say it determines itself in 
 fornis which either give way to other forms or lose all 
 form whatever,/.*?, return again to the primal indetiniteiiess. 
 The first determination of primitive substance was heat 
 and cold, a fiery sphere arising surrounded l)y cold air. 
 From fire and air were formed the stars (Anaximandros 
 regarded the stars as animated beings or divinities, 
 according to tlie view prevalent in ancient times, and 
 subscribed to by no less a thinker than Plato), in the midst 
 of which floats the cylindrically-shaped earth, immovable, 
 owing to its equidistance from all points of the sur- 
 rounding heavens, which were apparently conceived as a 
 circumscribed space like the interior of a hollow globe. 
 The earth was originally fluid. Through the co-operation 
 of heat and moisture organic life originated, passing suc- 
 cessively into higher and higher forms. All land anmials 
 were ])riraarily marine organizations, l>ecoming modiiied, 
 and gradually assuming their i)resent characters as tlie con- 
 ditions of their environment changed. As the earth began 
 to dry, the fins gave place, among those inhalnting the 
 dry i)ortion of its surface, to members more adapted to lito 
 under the new conditions. This development from pre- 
 existent forms applied no less to man than to other 
 
 animals. i i t„ xi, 
 
 A moot-point as regards Anaximandros has been the 
 nature of his primitive essence. That it was conceived 
 as material substance, few scliolars of any eminence have 
 doubted, but some, like Kitter, have been found to main- 
 tain that its differentiation existed in it from the begin- 
 ning, in other words, that it was an infinite aggregate ot 
 
i 
 
 m 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 determinate elements like the homccomamce of Anaxagoraa. 
 That such an assumption is not only unsupported by 
 evidence, but is foreign to the whole nature of the specu- 
 lation, has been conclusivelj^ shown l»y Zeller. All the 
 accounts resi)ecting the primitive substance of Anaxi- 
 mandros emphasise tlie fact of its absolute formlessness. 
 
 The advance made by Aiiaxiniandros upon Thales will 
 be apparent to the most superficial student. There is little 
 doubt that Anaximandros ^\ as a speculative genius of the 
 first order. Prompted, in all i>robability, merely by 
 the cnide and disconnected dicta of Thales, he constructed a 
 coherent system on the hylozoistic basis, a system, coiiHider- 
 ing the then state of knowledge, possessing consideraldo 
 plausibility, and containing one of tlie most reniiirkal)lo 
 anticipations of tlie tireat eosmological truth of modern 
 times wdiicli history can olYer. The wonderful guess of 
 Anaximandros on the subject of Evolution must ever 
 maintain his name as memorable in tlie annals of liuman 
 thought. It is noteworthy that this idea, if not consciously 
 deduced from his cardinal doctrine of a universal substance, 
 infinite in quantity and indefinite in quality per se, yet 
 possessing the inherent capacity for infinite modification, 
 nevertheless, logically follows from it. The forecast 
 of Anaximandros has slept f(»r two thousand years. 
 It fiist began to awaken at the end of the last century, and 
 when in tlie fulness of time it Imrst into that richness of 
 life wliicli has so jirofoundly influenced tlie thought of our 
 age, it was no longer on the shores of the /Egean, 
 deserted by the genius of siieculation for many a long 
 century, Ijut in the little village of Down in Kent. It is 
 a remarkalde circumstance, as the late Dr. Thirlwall 
 observed (' History of Greece,' vol. ii. pp. 134-5), that the 
 speculations of Anaximandros were so little followed up 
 by later thinkers of antirpiity, though it may be accounted 
 for in more ways than one. 
 
 Anaximenes. 
 
 The date of Anaximenes' birth is uncertain ; but he was 
 probably a younger contemjiorary of Thales and Anaxi- 
 
 Epoch I.] 
 
 THE PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 27 
 
 mander, being by some asserted to have been a pupil of 
 the latter. He was, also, a native of Miletus. 
 
 Anaximenes re-affirmed the qualitative character ot the 
 primal substance, but instead of identifying it, as Thales 
 had done, with water, asserted it to be air. The working 
 out of the system accorded with this alteration. As 
 Thales had conceived the earth to be a flat disc, floating 
 up<m water, so Anaximenes described it as a flat disc, 
 floating upon air. "^he latter, however, definitely worked 
 out the notion of the production of the real world through 
 the condensation and rarefaction of the primitive element. 
 Heat and cold appear to have corresponded to this process 
 ^heat representing rarefaction, and cold condensation. 
 Anaximenes is reported as maintaining the produc^tion ot 
 clouds from air, of water from clouds, and of earth trcmi 
 water. The earth was the centre of the universe, the 
 heavenly bodies, whicli consi^sted of a mixture of earth and 
 fire, circulating round it. All things were destined to be 
 ultimately resolved into air. 
 
 The work of Anaximenes in which these doctrines were 
 propounded, was known to Aristotle and his pupd Theo- 
 phrastus, but appears to have Been lost soon after their time. 
 
 Diogenes of Apolloxia. 
 
 A hiatus exists in the line of the Ionic physicists 
 heUvvvn Anaximenes and the present philosoplier, the 
 last of the school, only broken by one or two obscure per- 
 sonages, who are little more than names, such as Hippo, 
 a follower of Thales and Idaeus, who seems to have been 
 
 influenced by Anaximenes. • -. i v ^- 
 
 Diogenes is generally supposed to have flourished about 
 the time of Anaxagoras. Very little is known of his lite, 
 and even the identity of his birthplace, Apollonia, is not 
 settled, but it is generally referred to the place ot that 
 name in Crete, though the fact that he wrote in the 
 Ionic dialect, and belonged to the Ionic school, tends 
 to militate against this supposition. With Diogenes we 
 undoubtedly reach the high water-mark of Ionic specu- 
 lation. To Diogenes, as to Anaximenes, the circumambient 
 air, which seems to interpenetrate all things, w^as the 
 
 < 
 
 I 
 
28 
 
 GKEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 ( 29 ) 
 
 essence of which all things consist, the primitive form of 
 matter of which all other forms are modifications, and into 
 which they must ultimately l>e resolved. The great 
 philosophic merit of Diogenes (unsists in his heing the 
 first to explicitly emmciate the princijde of Monism. His 
 predecessors had, one and all, assumed this princijde 
 implicitly at the outset, hut Diogenes seeks to demonstrate 
 it. He urges the inex}jlicability of mutual action and 
 reaction, otherwise tlian on a monistic liasis. He sliows 
 that the facts of nature and the real world all })oint to one 
 primitive substance as their suhstratiiiu. I'his explicit 
 Monism denotes a consideralile advance in specidatiou. 
 Another distinctive feature of the }>hiloso}>liv of Diogenes, 
 which some would maintain, though ]>erhaps without 
 sufficient reason, to bo not so much a development on 
 older lines as a change of front, A\'as the attribrntion of 
 intelligence to his ' air.' Tlie soul, tlie intelligent element 
 in man, was of course notliing Itut breatli or air. Hence 
 the question may have arisen, Wliy should not tlie air- 
 matter manifested as intelligent in us, be no in its 
 essential nature ? Diogenes, in his attem|>ts to ju'ove 
 this, gives us the earliest sample we ])ossess of the 
 design argument. At the same time, we have in the 
 doctrine itself" tlie first distinct expression of tlie theory of 
 an anima htiuidi, wliicli lias |)layed such an important i)art 
 in subsequent speculation. 
 
 In Diogenes the Ionian Physicism finds its culmination 
 and conclusion. The school liad doul)tless, in his time, 
 fallen into disrepute, and the [dausibility and more recent 
 form its fundamental princii)les assumed under his aus]>ice8 
 failed to rehabilitate it. Such was the condition of jdiilo- 
 sophy at the time of Anaxagoras. But as most of these 
 early schools overlap each other, so to speak, it is imi)OS- 
 sible to deal with them chronologically, and hence we are 
 compelled to retrace our steps, in order to follow another 
 line of speculation, viz. the Pythagorean or Italian. 
 
 i 
 
 II. THE ITALIAN SCHOOL. 
 Pythagoras. 
 
 " Among all the schools of philosophy known to us," 
 says Zeller, " there is none of wliich the history is so over- 
 grown, we may almost say so concealed by myths and 
 fictions, and the doctrines of which have been so replaced 
 in the course of tradition by such a mass of later con- 
 stituents, as the Pythagorean." It is indeed impossible 
 now to disentangle the doctrines of Pythagoras himself 
 with anv certaintv from those of members of his school. 
 A still greater mystery overhangs the life of Pythagoras, 
 the three biograi»liies that liave survived from antiquity 
 being altogether unreliable. That Pythagoras was the son 
 of a stone-cutter, named Innesarchus, and was l)orn at 
 Samos, as well as that he was of Phoenician descent, all are 
 agreed; while his Idrtli is generally fixed at between B.C. 
 580 and 59(). In his fortieth year he is said to have left 
 his home and started on his travels, extending over twelve 
 years, in the course of which he visited Ionia, Phoenicia, 
 and Egypt, finally settling down in the Greek city of 
 Crotona in Southern Italy. Tliere are, however, vari«jus con- 
 flicting re})orts on the age at which he left Samos, and also 
 on the duration of his stjiy in the East, the only unanimity 
 l)eing as to his ultimate place of residence. In ancient 
 times Pythagoras Avas commonly regarded as the main 
 original channel for the introduction of Oriental, and, 
 especially Egyjjtian, ideas into Europe. 
 
 Pytliagoras, so(»n after his arrival in Crotona, became a 
 political and religious as well as a pliiloso])hical power 
 throughout the Greek eoloiiies of Italy. There is every 
 indication uf a desire on liis part to estalilish a cult and 
 polity on the model of the Eastern theocracies. Thus, we 
 have the division of doetrine into esoteric and exoteric, 
 with a corresiKUiding distinction among its hearers, of the 
 introduction of mysteries, the [>rohil)ition of sundry articles 
 of diet, the institution of a special regime of life for the 
 elect and such as as})ired to be so, and above all, the 
 attempt, for a time more than partially successful, to 
 
 / 
 
ao 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 Epoch I.] 
 
 THE PRE-SOCRATIO SCHOOLS. 
 
 31 
 
 acquire a political authority for liimself and his followers, 
 amounting to the (r.iiiph;te (-..ntr..! of tlie state. 
 
 The circumstances of the deatli ot Pythagoras are 
 variously related. According to some ace. mnts lu) ^^as 
 killed ill one of the ciAil tumults which ended m tlie 
 destruction of the whole laction, and the massacre or dis- 
 persion of its members; according t(. others, lie ded ol 
 starvation at Metapontiim (about B.C. ;.(»()), whitlKjr he 
 was comi>elled to fly to escape the vengeance ot the 
 popular party. As it is practically imi)ossible to lurnish a 
 reliable account of the philosophy of IVthag* .ras himselt, 
 we shall confine ourselvs to giving a sketch ot the 
 Pythagorean system as it has come down to us witliout 
 attempting to enter int.. nuu .t i)oints of scholarship as to 
 the relative antiquity of its reputed doctrines. 
 
 The PYTiiA<ioi;i:AN System. 
 
 With tlie Pythagorean pliilost .i»hy we enter upon a new- 
 and more advanced phase of Greek thought than that of 
 the Hvlo/oists of Miletus. Tlie Pythagoreans wuie 
 evidently capable of a high degree of abstraction. Ihe 
 principle and essence of all things was now no longer 
 conceived as concrete, but as abstract. 
 
 The lundamental doctrine attril)uted to Pythagoras, 
 that "All is number," must be taken as meaning not 
 merely that everj^tliing can be treated numerically, but that 
 numlir is that by wliich the constitution of tilings is 
 determined. In other words, tlie mattrr as wrll as the 
 form of the real Avas deemed to cimsist in number, 
 although the antithesis of matter and form liad not as yet 
 become explicit in th( aiglit. Hie Pythagoreans were 
 probably U'd to this theoiy by perceiving that all mathe- 
 matical conceptions are reducible to terms of number. It 
 was most likely to an attentive study of the matheniatical 
 aspects of astronomy and music, scienct^s which the Pytlia- 
 goreans especially cultivated, that the doctrine of numbers 
 18 more immediately traceable. There is no doubt that the 
 ideas of proportion and harmony pervaded the whole 
 Pythagorean system. TIr* world was conceived as a 
 harmoniously articulated whole ; the doctrine of numbers 
 was merely the ultimate expression of this conception, an 
 
 I' 
 
 
 expression which will appear natural enough wlien one 
 considers that the, to us, familiar distinction of abstract 
 and concrete had not been made. This hypostasis, then, 
 of numbers naturally gave rise to an emanation-theory, 
 'i'hat whence all numbers are derivable, tlieir source^ or 
 generative parent, as it is termed, is the One or Unity. 
 From the One, as tlieir common root, all numbers proceed, 
 and inasmuch as all numbers are contained therein, it is 
 often designated as " the number." From the One, there 
 issues the antithesis wliich i)lays so great a part in the 
 system, of the Indefinite and Definite,* or the unlimited 
 and the limiting, in which ]»erhaps, we may see a faint 
 adumbration of the later antithesis of matter and form. 
 Thence proceeds the odd and the even ; the even being 
 identified with the indefinite, and the odd with the definite, 
 because the odd sets a limit to bi-partition which the 
 even does not. The definite or limiting is throughout 
 regarded as the higher principle, l)nt is equally with its 
 correlate subordinated to Unity or the One. 
 
 From these main pairs (viz. the Indefinite and the 
 Definite, the Even and the Odd) proceed eight sul)ordinate 
 couples, which, with the two primary, make up the sacred 
 number ten ; tlie complete Pythagorean categories being 
 as follows: (1) Definite and Indefinite; (2) O.ld and 
 Even ; (3) Onej and :\Iany ; (4) Eight and Left ; (5) Male 
 and Female; (6) liesting and Moving ; (7) Straight and 
 Curved; (8) Light and Darkness; (9) Good and Evil; 
 (10) S*iuare and Oblong. In so far as these contradic- 
 tions, immanent in the original unity, appear in opposition 
 to eacli other outside this unity, arises the system of 
 numbers or things. 
 
 The apidication of this theory to the detailed expla- 
 nation of the concrete world could not l)e eftected otherwise 
 than by a series of arl)itrary combinations, as that one is 
 the point, two tlie line, three tlie plane, that virtue is a 
 harmony of certain numbers, &c. 
 
 * Erdmann remarks as characteristic that in place of the physical 
 opposition of heat and coM as with the hylozoists, we have here a 
 Wical opr>osition. (Erdmann, vol. i. p. 26.) 
 
 t This antithetical unity was distinguished from the unconditioned 
 unity at the basis of the system. 
 
 4 
 
32 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Erocii I. 
 
 In the Pythagorean cosmology-, the nniverse was divided 
 into ten spheres, which were regarded as rev(»lving round 
 the central fire. The soul was of course conceived as in 
 essence number ; and cognition as arising in and through 
 number. That which couhl not be exjiressed mathemati- 
 cally was therefore iiicognisable and nothing. 
 
 The above is of course only a brief sketch of the 
 leading jiositions of a systcni whicli exercised a vast 
 influence upon ancient speculation, Imt wliich nev€»rtheless 
 suftered more variations in the hands of its individual 
 adherents than any other, for the reason that its founder 
 committed notliing to writing. Add to this, tliat the 
 earliest Pytliagoican fragments probably date froni a 
 century after Fythagoras's time, and the difficulty of ar- 
 riviiig'at true rythagoreanism with certainty, at present, 
 will be sufficiently api>arent. 
 
 It will be seen', however, from what we have said that 
 the Pythagorean system (so-called) contains all the later 
 philosoi»hical disciplines in germ. Thus in addition to 
 an ontology proper, we have the first attempt on the 
 basis of tins to solve tlie prol)lems of Tlieory of Knowledge, 
 Psycholonv, ( 'osniology and Ethics. These attempts, it is 
 true, are c( mfined to a few merely arbitrary and ciuldisn 
 dicta, liut still they are significant as showing a recognition 
 of the existence of these |)roblems, and of the duty of 
 philosopliy to explain tliem on its fundamental principles. 
 But it is of the utmost importance to bear in mind that 
 I^'tliagorcanism was primarily a religion and a polity, 
 and that to this its ]»liilosophy was supposed to lead up as 
 its end and goal. It is in the character of hierophant, 
 rather than tl»at of philo>opher, that the majestic and 
 serai-mythical figure of Pythagoras stands forth so con- 
 spicuousiy in classical history. The remembrance of the 
 personality of the great Samian as a religious leader 
 lingered with the world till the last ray of the afterglow 
 of ancient culture had died away. 
 
 The most interesting ancient sources for Pythagoreanism 
 are the"Golden verses," with the commentaiy by Hierokles. 
 
 (33 ) 
 
 THE ELEATIC SCHOOL. 
 
 Xenophanes. 
 
 The reputed founder of the Eleatic school was bom at 
 Kolophon, in Ionia. The date of his birth is uncertain, 
 but he is said to have flourished about B.C. 530. He spent 
 the greater part of his life in travelling, in the manner of 
 an ancient bard, through the chief cities of Sicily and 
 Magna Graicia, finally settling in Elea, a town of Southern 
 
 The burden of the poems which Xenophanes, sung, 
 was that the All or the One, as it was variously termed, 
 was God. As a pendant to this we have a polemic 
 against the current polytheism, and the immorality ot the 
 narratives of the poets. Some of the fragments preserved 
 would seem to imply a theistic tendency,* but others dis- 
 tinctly identify "God" with the spacial universe. Thus 
 the statement that the shape of the deity was spherical is 
 plainly an inference from the apparent figure formed 
 by the sky and horizon. Passionless, without motion 
 neither limited nor unlimited, "all eye, all ear, all 
 thoue-ht," such was the God, Being, or All, ot Aeno- 
 phanes It is the enunciation of unity and change- 
 lessness as the attributes of tnie Being against the multi- 
 plicity and change of the world of appearance, which 
 gives Xenophanes his place in the history of philoso- 
 phy. Otherwise he would have been no more than a 
 religious reformer. As it was, the religious element m the 
 teachings of Xenophanes remained almost still-born. 1 he 
 )hilosophical alone has left a mark on history. 
 
 Parmenides. 
 
 p..>ai^menides, of Elea, probably a pupil of Xenophanes 
 h his yAd age, and much esteemed m his native city tor 
 
 * • THicre 18 one God alone, the greatest among gods and men, resm- 
 Iplhg mortals neither in body nor in thought." Apud Clem. Alex i. l. 
 
34 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 his virtue and statesmanship, emlxwiied his philosophy in 
 an epic poem of which considerable fragments remain. 
 It consists, besides au introduction, of two main divisions, 
 the first treating of the doctrine of the true, and the 
 second containing a cosmical theory of illusory appearance. 
 In Farmenides, tlie theological terminology of Xeno- 
 phanes is abandoned. Being, as distinguished from 
 Non-being, is the sul)jcct-matter of philosophy. True 
 knowledge, the knowledge of Being, is only to be 
 obtained thn.iigh intellect; the senses serve only to delude 
 us with an a}»i»arint reality, whicli is in truth non-existent. 
 Being is one, unchangeable, unbecome, infinite, and eternal. 
 The api>earance of cliange, multiplicity, limitation, etc., 
 in the sense world, is illusory. Farmenides enunciated 
 for the first time, in history, the doctrine of abstract 
 IVIonism, and an alistract Monism it is, of the crudest 
 and most uncompromising description. 
 
 Melissos and Zend. 
 
 The distinguished Samian General Melissos, also be- 
 longs to the Eleatic school. His subject-matter is the 
 Ens, or being, which, like Farmenides, he regarded as 
 an immovable, indivisible unity. Like Farmenides, 
 Melissos has a polemic against the conception of a void, 
 wliich is declared impossible. His work is mainly 
 directed against the Ionian Fliysicists. 
 
 The Eleatic Zeno is stated to have been au adopted 
 son of Farmenides, wdiosc doctrines he embraced in their 
 entirety. He was regarded as a man of heruie cliaracter, 
 and ninnerous stories of his fortitude are rehited. There 
 is no new doctrine taught by Zeno. His pliilosophical 
 work consisted of an attemjit to lortify the positions of 
 I'armenides, and to clinch liis arguments and demonstra- 
 tions. This he effected or sought to effect by means 
 Dialectic, or the reductio ad abmirdum, a method of p^ 
 wliich he was the first to emjiloy. Numerous instjii 
 illustrative of his skill in this kind of argumentation s^ 
 transmitted, of which the most noted is the soy*-calle( 
 Achilles-puzzle. Tlie olvject was to prove the imposyr^^nlitl 
 of motion. If Achilles and the tortoise run a n^^^i ^nl 
 
 Epoch L] 
 
 THE PRE-SOKRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 35 
 
 Achilles do but give the tortoise a start, however slight 
 he will never overtake the tortoise.— Froof as follows : If 
 Achilles is to overtake the tortoise, he must first reach 
 the point where the tortoise was when he started ; next 
 the point it hns attained in the interval ; next the point 
 arrived at, while he is making this second advance ; and so 
 on ad injinitum, which is obviously impossible m a finite 
 
 time. 
 
 This is one of four arguments employed by Zeno to 
 prove the impossibility of motion. Arguments of an 
 analogous kind are brought forward to demonstrate the 
 impossibility of plurality. In Zeno the opposition of the 
 Eleatic philosophy to common sense is brought out into 
 the most prominent relief. Multiplicity and motion are 
 not encountered with general arguments, as with Far- 
 menides, but their impossibility is sought to be drawn 
 from their very conception. In this way Zeno's dialectic 
 started problems which philosophy has never since been 
 
 able to evade. 
 
 Soon after Melissos and Zeno, the Eleatic school seems 
 to have died out, its dialectic being absorbed by the 
 Sophists. It should be observed that several of the 
 Eloatics included a cosmology (not very consistently 
 perhaps) in their philosophy, of wliich, since it is destitute 
 of value or importance, either intrinsically or as bearing 
 on the system proper, no account has been given. One 
 point only is worthy of notice, namely, that the Eleatics 
 invariably assumed two elements as primal instead of the 
 one element of the Ionian Ilylozoists. In this we may 
 perhaps see a transition to the four elements of Empedokles. 
 The way in which the Eleatic system, starting from a 
 polemic in the person of the founder against the current 
 theology, became purely philosophic, has already been 
 noticed. 
 
 ♦ « The infinity of space in this race of subdivision is artfully niu 
 against a finite time ; whereas if the one infinite were pitted, as in 
 reason it ouj^^ht to be, a<,^aiust the other infinite, the endless divisibi- 
 lity of time aj^uinat the endless divisibility of space, there would arise a 
 reciprocal exhaustion and neutrulisatif)n that would swallow up the 
 astounding consequences, very naicl' "s the two Kilkenny cats ate up 
 each other." De Quincey s worl-- l. X\^I., p. 154. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 THE METAPHYSICAL-PHYSICISTS. 
 
 -•o»- 
 
 Herakleitos. 
 
 We have now reached a f]jroiip of thinkers who com- 
 bined the Hylozoism of the lonians with the metaphysical 
 methods of the Pythagoreans and Xenophanes.* The 
 metaphysic of the Eleatics was purely abstract. It 
 admitted of no mo^Ius vivendi with the material world. 
 One unchangeable, immovable and eternal being alone 
 existed as the essence of the real, all else was absolute 
 illusion. The negation of the possibility of motion and 
 change was now met by their affirmation as the inseparable 
 attribute of real being. Physics, or cosmology, ceasing to 
 be separated by an impassable gulf from philosophy 
 proper, as with the Eleatics, was absorbed into its central 
 doctrine. The leading names in this group are Herakleitos, 
 Anaxagoras, Empedocles, and Leukippus and Demokritos. 
 Herakleitos sprang from an ancient family of Ephesus, 
 claiming descent from the Homeric Nestor. He was an 
 arch-aristocrat, and a bitter hater of the democracy of his 
 native town. The date of his birth was proljably about 
 B.C. 532. On account of the mystical language in which 
 his doctrines were couched, he obtained the cognomen of 
 the '* Obscure." 
 
 The cardinal doctrine of Herakleitos: "All things 
 flow," was an aphorism for the great principle of 
 " becoming ; " of the identity in contradiction of all things, 
 which it^is the undoubted glory of the Ephesian 
 thinker to have for the first time definitely enunciated. 
 Everything is and is not at the same moment ; it exists 
 only in transition. The inherent opposition of all 
 things, the strain of contradiction running through them, 
 he describes as " the harmony of the world like that of 
 the lyre and the bow." 
 Physically expressed, the ultimate essence of the real 
 
 ♦ The work of Pamienides was subsequent to that of Herakleitoi. 
 
 Epoch I.] 
 
 THE METAPHYSICAL-PHYSICISTS. 
 
 37 
 
 was *' fire," that element being symbolical of non- 
 stability, of ceaseless change. "The one world of all 
 things, has not been made either by a god or a man; 
 but it was, and is, and will be, an everliving fire, kindling 
 itself according to measure and extinguishing itself 
 according to measure." From the upper regions where 
 the fire was purest it descended to the middle regions 
 where it became water, less pure, less living ; till finally 
 it reached the lowest region of all, the region of least 
 life, least change, and least motion, viz. the earth. At 
 this point the reverse process commenced, the fire 
 gradually ascending to the sphere of its original purity. 
 From fire all things come, and into fire they must 
 return. The " fire " of Herakleitos must be understood 
 rather as an incandescent vapour than as actual flame. 
 The processes of the evolution and dissolution of the 
 world out of and into this fiery vapour are eternally 
 alternating. 
 
 Herakleitos employed various illustrations to bring 
 home to the mind the eternal flux of things ; as that one 
 could not step twice into the same river, etc. To 
 illustrate that everything existed in combination with its 
 opposite, he instanced sleep and waking, life and death, 
 youth and age. 
 
 It is a manifest historical misapprehension to describe 
 Herakleitos, as is done byUeberweg, as a " Hylozoist to the 
 backbone,"* since the slightest acquaintance with his 
 doctrines suffices to show us that their salient point is 
 not so much the theory of a primitive fire, which is rather 
 inferential and illustrative, as the doctrine of the eternal 
 flux and reflux of things, and of contradiction and strife 
 as essential to existence. 
 
 The Herakleitan school continued to possess numerous 
 adherents, especially in Ephesus and the Greek cities of 
 Asia Minor, till the time of Sokrates. One of Plato's 
 teachers, Kratylos, was an Herakleitan. 
 
 The work of Herakleitos which lx)re the title, common 
 to most of the pre-Sokratic treatises, Trcpi <f)V(T€u)s, was 
 extant and much read by the Christians of the second and 
 
 * " Vom hause aus Hylozoist," Ueberweg, Vol. I., p. 46. 
 
do 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 third centuries,— but fragments only have reached modem 
 
 There are several monographs on Herakleitos, by 
 different German scholars, the most celebrated being 
 Ferdinand Lassalle's great work, Die Philosophie Hera- 
 kleiioi des DiinMn von Ephesos, 2 Bde., Berlirh l8o8, the 
 critical value of which, however, is impaired by its strong 
 Hegelian tendency. 
 
 EmI'EDOKLES. 
 
 Empedoklcs was bom at Akragas, in Sicily, B.C. 490. 
 His history is overlaid with legends, of which the well- 
 known story of his suicide on Mount Etna is a specimen. 
 Empedokles, like Parmenides, embodied his philosophical 
 views in an epic poem. 
 
 The four elements (so-callfMl), fire, water, earth and air,* 
 were to Empedokles the ultimate forms of the real, but 
 they were ii<»t like the Ionic primitive sul)stance capable 
 of qualitative change. All things were composed of these 
 f(»ur clciiieiits, l)iit by a mixture in various proportions. 
 In tliemselves they were absolutely statical, possessing no 
 inherent i)rinciple of determination, such as condensation 
 and rarefaction, as with the llylozoists and Herakleitos. 
 The change and multiplicity of things is broiiglit about 
 by mechanical principles foreign to tlicir essential nature. 
 Those i)rinciples were love and hate, a uniting and a 
 separating principle. By tliis diialistic conception Em- 
 pedokles found the modus viimuii between the iVbsolute 
 Being of rarmeiiides, which excluded all becoming, and 
 therefore all reality, and the absolute flux of Herakleitos, 
 which seemed to exclude all self-existent Being. 
 
 Empedokles conceived of absolute existence, like Xeno- 
 phanes, as originally one unchanging all-encompassing 
 sphere, which the ojiposing inliuences of love and hate 
 firtst reduced to the world of change, motion, and plurality 
 by tlie conil)inatioii and separation of the four " roots," 
 as Emiiedokles terms them, which it implicitly contained. 
 Each of the two forces prevails alternately in the process 
 
 » We perhaps oiidit rathar to say, tlie solid, the liquid, the gaseous, 
 and the ethereal, i.e. the four forms of matter. 
 
 Epoch I.] THE METAPHYSICAL-PHYSICISTS. 
 
 39 
 
 of the world-formation. Originally, absolute love (i.e. 
 union) obtained. Hate gained an entrance and severed 
 the elements from one another, in which way individual 
 beings arose. But the power of hate reaching its ex- 
 tremest point, individual tilings cease to exist. Every 
 particle of matter is separated from every other particle. 
 The combining influence of love then enters again, and new 
 individual beings arise, till with the complete re-establish- 
 ment of the power of love all reverts to the primal state 
 of absolute quiescence and unity. 
 
 Empedokles' philosophy also contained a theory ot ttie 
 order in time and the manner of the origin of plants and 
 animals. Sense-perception it explained by the out-tiow- 
 ing of particles from external bodies, and their impinge- 
 ment upon the organs of sense, every element in bodies 
 being perceived by us through a corresponding element 
 in ourselves. 
 
 Anaxagoras. 
 
 Anaxagoras, who was born at Klazomenoe about B.C. 500, 
 of a noble family, subsequently migrated to Athens, and 
 became the friend of Perikles. Owing to an accusation ot 
 atheism, he was compelled to leave the city, and lly to 
 Lampsakos, where he died at the age of seventy-two. 
 
 Like Empedokles and the Atomists, Anaxagoras postula- 
 ted (lualitatively unchangeable substance, by the combina- 
 tion and separation of which, individual things arose. 1 his 
 substance consisted of an infinite interpenetration ot ele- 
 ments, an infinite chaos. It was neither increased nor 
 diminished, but suffered only combination and resolution 
 into infinitely varying forms. The primitive aggregate 
 was termed by sul)sequent exponents ot the system Momoi- 
 OTMroi. The union of these ultimate elements with each 
 other was so complete, that they were divisible to inhnity, 
 there being no ultimate and irresolvable atoms at their 
 basis. This formless mass was subjected not to a necessary 
 law, but to voes, or mind, an omnipotent and omniscient 
 power that produced order and harmony out ot the chaos. 
 The separation is conceived as going out successively trom 
 a middle point in ever-widening circles. As with most ot 
 the ancients, Anaxagoras regarded the earth as the centre 
 
40 
 
 GBEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I. 
 
 Epoch I.] THE METAPHYSICAL-PHYSICISTS. 
 
 41 
 
 of the universe. His theory of the origin of organic beings 
 strongly resembled that of Anaximandros. 
 
 The two most noteworthy points in the philosophy of 
 Anaxagoras are the introduction of the notion of mind into 
 philosophic speculation, and the assertion of the infinite 
 divisibility of matter, or, as it is termed, Dynamism. A 
 great deal has l)een made of the first of these points, as 
 might naturally Ite expected, but so far from its supposing 
 any advance in conception, we may rather consider it as 
 philosophically a reaction to anthropomorphism. The 
 appearance of the problem of the ultimate constitution 
 of matter upon the arena of speculation, on the other 
 hand, undoubtedly marks an epoch in the history of 
 thought, and had immediate results. 
 
 The Atomists. 
 
 The reputed founder of Atomism in Greece was Leu- 
 kippus, respecting whom scarcely anything is known, not 
 even whether he committed his doctrines to writing or 
 not. According to Aristotle, he originally belonged to the 
 Eleatic school. The real literary founder of the school, 
 Demokritos, who is described as a pupil of Leukippus, 
 flourished about half a century later than Anaxagoras. 
 He was bom at Alnlera, and is stated to have employed 
 the large fortune he possessed in travelling throughout 
 Egypt and the East. He died at an advanced age, much 
 respected, in his native town. Demokritos composed a 
 large number of works, all of which, with the exception of 
 fragments preserved by later writers, have perished. 
 
 The Atomistic system connects itself by opposition, in 
 an unmistakable manner, with that of Anaxagoras. The 
 latter philosopher liad assumed a chaotic aggregate divis- 
 ible to infinity as the primal substance of all things. 
 Demokritos postulates a plenum and a void, the former 
 of which he also terms existent, and the latter non- 
 existent. The existent consists of an infinite plurality 
 of atoms, each of which is indivisible. Between the 
 atoms is the void or non-existent. The connection and 
 distinction between this system and that of Anaxagoras is 
 obvious. With Anaxagoras the plenum was practically a 
 
 u ^ 
 
 continuous substance, for the plural designation oan only 
 have a qualitative application, the notion of the " void or 
 empty space Ijeing excluded. The atoms of Demokritos, on 
 the contrary, were conditioned in their existence by the 
 void, in other words they were discrete substances. ^ The 
 iJojwm'ommoi of Anaxagoras, again, were infinitely divisible, 
 the atoms of Demokritos absolutely indivisible. _ 
 
 The action of the atoms was conditioned m a triple way, 
 by their order, their position and their form. Their size was 
 various, but upon it depended their weight, that is, their 
 tendency to move downwards. The atoms, like the void, 
 were eternal. Their motion was also original and eternal. 
 The w^eight of the atoms being unequal, some falling with 
 a greater velocity than others, gave rise, according to 
 Demokritos, to lateral motions, which again with the 
 oritnnal motion, constituted a circular or vortex motion, 
 which was ever extending itself, and which was the 
 proximate cause of the world-formation. In this theory, 
 we have a distinct reminiscence of Anaxagoras. Ihese 
 positions, the Atomists thought, sufficed to explain the 
 
 variety of phenomena. . ^ i • 
 
 The super-sensible atoms and the void alone existed in 
 themselves, the real world existed /or us only. Perception 
 was explained by the efflux of atoms from bodies producing 
 imao-es on our mind through the medium of the organs 
 of sense. Demokritos was the last of tlie Metaphysical- 
 Physicists, and of the older Greek speculators. The 
 crisis produced by the Sophists had already begun ; the 
 attention of philosophy was already being drawn away 
 from the contemplation of Ijeing to Knowing, from the 
 object to the subject, and Greek thought was fast becoming 
 ripe for the magical and renovating touch of Demokritos 
 younger contemporary Sokrates. 
 
42 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [ErocH I. 
 
 Epoch I.] 
 
 THE SOKRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 43 
 
 TEANSITION TO SOKRATES. 
 
 The Sophists. 
 
 The founder of the negative and sceptical school of the 
 Sophists or "wise men" is usiuilly designated as rrotagoras. 
 y his brilliant philosophical free-lance was born at Ahdera, the 
 city of Demokritos, in a humble s} there of life, out of which 
 his abilities soon carried him. After travelling in Sicily, 
 he settled at Athens, where he made much money and 
 fame by his teaching, for which ho was the first to demand 
 payment. Led, it is stated, by the Ilerakleitan doctrines 
 to a sceptical attitude, his fundamental tliesis gradually 
 acquired shape. It consisted, to put it in modern 
 language, in the denial of all objectivity and the 
 restriction of all knowledge to mere impressions of the 
 individual subject. Protagoras maintained tliiit to every 
 assertion a contrary assertion could be opposed with equal 
 right. His fiivourite aphorism was : *' 3Ian is the measure 
 of all things." As a result, proliability took the place of 
 truth, and imuicdiate utility, of goodness. 
 
 Frodikos, born in the island of Chios, also came to 
 Athens wliile a young man, and adoi)ted the calling of 
 Sophist. His chief merit lies in his liaving contributed to 
 fix the definitions of words, tlius preparing tlie way for 
 the Sokratic dialectic. His lectures were so mucli in 
 request as to enable him to make a charge of fifty 
 drachmas a person. 
 
 Another eminent name in the Sophist school was 
 Gorgias, who, evidently influenced l»y the Eleatics, 
 maintained that neither being or non-being, one or many, 
 become or unbecome, had any reality or meaning. His 
 orations, in which a similar dialectical mode of argument 
 to that of Zeno was employed, were delivered publicly 
 on any given sulject. Extemporaneous oratory and 
 oral disputation he attaclied much importance to, and 
 became eminent throughout Greece and the colonies 
 for his skill in these arts. Two orations, of doubtful 
 genuineness, have come down to us under his name. 
 
 \ 
 
 Among other eminent Sophists may be mentioned 
 Hippias, Polos, Thrasymachos, etc. 
 
 The Sophists practically dealt a death-blow at the 
 earlier philosophies considered as independent systems, by 
 opr)osing them to each other and showing the one-sided- 
 ness of each, while the plausibility of the several doctrines 
 taken by themselves, comT)ined with their mutually 
 exclusive character to produce a spirit of universal 
 scepticism throughout the philosoi)hic world, even apart 
 from the arguments more especially directed to this end. 
 The individualist and utilitarian nature of the Sophistic 
 ethics naturally procured for the doctrine wide accepta- 
 tion at a time when the M civic feeling was beginning to 
 wane. The " gilded youth " of the Greek cities flocked to 
 the lectures of its professors, more to learn the art of 
 skilful disputation, for the profitable exercise of which 
 the public life of the Hellenic race afforded such a wide 
 field at this period, than from any intrinsic interest m 
 philosophical questions. As a natural consequence, the 
 wliole Sophistic teaching ultimately came to have mere 
 rhetorical display fi>r its end, by wliich those proficient 
 therein might make the worse appear the better reason, as 
 
 occasion required. . i i x 
 
 It was this empty dialectical art that reigned almost 
 supreme in Greece under tlie name of philosophy, when the 
 *' Silenus fi«mre" appeared in the Agora at Athens, with 
 a dialectic'" similar indeed in khid, but employed for 
 another purpose ; a dialectic which was destined to make 
 an end of Sophism, as Sopliism had nuule an end ot pre- 
 vious dogmatism. It has been often remarked, and with 
 iustice, that the Sophistic movement was never strictly 
 i)hilosoi)hical, but AN a« rather a popular rationalistic out- 
 burst, having its springs in the entire religious, political 
 and social life of Greece sliortly l)efore the Peloponnesian 
 war. As such it is diflicult to fix upon any individual as 
 the actual founder of the movement, which, so far as names 
 are concerned, was rather consentaneous than successive. 
 The sudden appoaranceof the Sophistic orators throughout 
 the Greek world is one of those phenomena in the history 
 of culture, for which not more than general causes can be 
 assigned in the absence of exhaustive historical data. 
 
44 
 
 GKEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SOKRATES. 
 
 45 
 
 SECOND EPOCH. 
 SOKKATES. 
 
 We have now anived at the first great land-mark 
 in Greek speculation. The personality of the son of 
 Sophroniskos is one of the few world-personalities whose 
 name and feme have found an echo amid all races, where- 
 ever hnman culture has existed. 
 
 The date of iSokrates' birth is approximately fixed at 
 from B. c. 471 to 469. He was the first philosopher bom 
 in Athens, where his fiither was a sculptor, a calling he 
 himself followed during the early portion of his career. 
 After receiving the education prescribed by law, Sokrates 
 appears to have taken up the studies of astronomy and 
 geometry. The story of his having been a pupil of 
 Anaxagoras or Archelaus, is generally regarded as a 
 fabrication, though tliere is no doubt that he attended 
 the lectures of the Sophists, notably I*rodikos. It is also 
 probable tliat he read most of the extant philosopliical 
 literature ; he was certainly familiar with the treatise of 
 Anaxagoras. Plato relates that he came personally into 
 contact with rarmenides while a boy — a statement whicli 
 Ueberweg credits, though generally considered doubtful. 
 
 Sokrates took part in three campaigns during the 
 Peloponnesian war, in which he signalised himself by his 
 courage and endurance. Otherwise he held aloof from 
 public affairs, only once in his life occupying an official 
 position. Seldom' leaving his beloved Athens, he daily 
 mixed with the crowds that thronged the Agora, willing 
 to converse with all who wished to do so. Young men 
 were especially attracted by him, and presently the world- 
 famous grouj), comprising among others, Plato, Xenophon, 
 Eschines, Eurii)ides, Krito, etc., came to be formed. 
 Meanwhile, Sokrates had acquired a celebrity which 
 eclipsed that of his Sophist teachers, and which led the 
 comic poet Aristophanes, wlio hated philosophy, to satirise 
 it in his person in the * Clouds.' It is a noticeable fact that 
 Aristophanes appears to have been about as ignorant of 
 
 
 the thing he was satirising as many popular writers in 
 our own day, who, without his genius, attempt to make 
 fun of new truths and their advocates, for, like them, he 
 seemed to consider it immaterial, so long as he was 
 attacking philosophy, what distinctions of stand-point he 
 confounded. Thus Sokrates is represented in the character 
 of a Sophist, Aristophanes being apparently oblivious of 
 the fact that Sokrates led a polemic against the Sophists. 
 The main, and we may perhaps say, only, thesis in 
 Sokrates' philosophy was the assertion of the identity of 
 knowledge and virtue. No man was willingly bad, but 
 only from ignorance and confusion. As a corollary from 
 this we have the assumption that virtue is teachable, and 
 that as all knowledge is essentially one, so is virtue. The 
 revolution effected by Sokrates has been well described by 
 Cicero as consisting in the bringing down of philosophy 
 from heaven to earth. Had Sokrates written a treatise, it 
 would not have borne the traditional title of those of his 
 predecessors, " On Nature," but rather " On Man." The 
 immediate object of his teaching was the attainment of clear 
 ideas or concepts, the highest of all being that of the good, 
 or the Summum Bonum ; in order through this knowledge 
 to attain the perfect life. Keferring to his mother, the 
 midwife Phanarete, he used to say that as her calling in life 
 was to deliver children into the world from the woml), so it 
 was his calling to watch over mental parturition, and deliver 
 ideas from the mind. The method he used to effect this, 
 was that of irony, or pretended ignorance. He would ask 
 questions on any subject, as though for information. The 
 oftentimes confident answers received would lead to 
 further questions, till in the end the luckless victim of 
 confused ideas and loose tliought, would be brought to 
 silence, if not to an admission of the victory of the Sokratic 
 dialectic. Aristotle declares Sokrates to have been the 
 founder of the inductive method, though this could only 
 have been as applied to ethical subjects and the defini- 
 tion of words ; l)ut here again it would seem only fair to 
 credit his master Prodikos with the foundation of this 
 
 logical art. 
 
 The Sophists had identified tmth with individual 
 opinion or conception. Sokrates distinguished between 
 
46 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 mdividiial conceptions as such, and those that, purified by 
 Dialectic, were of universal ai)i>lication, i.e., true. All 
 
 contusecuy, in mtj nun'i "^ i^^ ic*^^.... ---" - 
 
 Sokrates' Dialectic was ( .fteii simply to deniunstrate tlie 
 reciprocal nntenabilitv of rival theories, witliout reaching 
 any r.ositive conclusion. Much has been written respect- 
 iiicr the ^utfAovLuv of Sokrates. There seems every reason 
 f(j?thinkiiio; tliat in accordance with tlie prevalent beli^ls 
 he really regarded himself as under the supervision of a 
 tutelary supernatural agent, which warned him of the 
 dan <»-er attending certain courses of action. 
 
 Thv story of Sokrates' condemnation and death is too well 
 known to iieedrei»eating at length in a work of the ])resent 
 8coi>e. Having excited the enmity of the pietists, by his 
 refusal t^ 1" initiated into the Eleusinian mysteries, and 
 the hostility of the democratic party by his former friend- 
 ship with Kritias, one of tlio worst of tlie tliirty tyrants, 
 fur which the subsequent breach between tliem had not 
 atoned ; also prol)al)ly by the fact of his having remained 
 unmolested in Athens throughout the worst period of the 
 tyranny ; lie was im|>caclied by Meletos, an inferior poet, 
 iykon^ a Rlietorician, and Anytos, a leather-dealer, on 
 three counts, cliarging him respectively, witli "introducing 
 strange Gods," with eorrui.ting youth, and with having 
 moulded the cliaracter of tyrants. He was convicted and 
 condemned to death, at first by a majority of six, but subse- 
 quently on a 1 .1 -eal, of eighty votes. The circumstance that 
 the sacred vessel bearing tlie Athenian oflferings had just 
 .sailed for Delos, allowed him nearly a month's respite— 
 during which he refused the means of escape offered liim — 
 before, in April B.C. 391), he drank the hemlock in the 
 presence of his sorrowing disciples. 
 
 Much exaggerated blame has been bestowed on the 
 Athenians for'^tbe condemnation of Sokrates. There is 
 strong evidence that in its early stages at least he favoured 
 the Lacedemonian policy, while liis known intimacy with 
 Kritias naturally threw grave suspicion on Lis teaching. 
 As Tliirlwall remarks, the strangeness consists not in the 
 fact of the conviction, but in the smallness of the majority 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 THE SOKRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 47 
 
 by which the philosopher was at first convicted. But, 
 tlioiigh even the external circumstances of the case are 
 Bufheient to account for the action of the Athenians, there 
 is, we believe, a deeper significance in the attitude of all 
 that was conservative in the Athenian state towards 
 Sokrates. It was not zeal for the gods, qua gods, as we 
 take it, tliat formed the underlying ground of suspicion, 
 but zeal for the old civic spirit. The citizens of Athens 
 f felt vaguely that the " Know thyself" of Sokrates was the 
 expression of a religion and an ethic, radically incom- 
 patible with the old spirit of solidarity — an ethic of 
 individualism and introst)ection, which, if pushed to its 
 logical conclusions, must sap the ancient traditional ethic 
 of duty to tlie state as an organised whole at its very root. 
 This introspection Avas the " strange god " of which the 
 Athenians felt an uneasy dread, as destructive of the old 
 state religion and morality. It is somewhat of an irony on 
 the almost servile respect with which Sokrates generally 
 treated the estalilished cultus, and his excessive care to 
 avoid any imi>utation of impiety, that this should have 
 c( )nstituted one of the main charges against him in the 
 ca]iital indictment. 
 
 The revolution in thought inaugurated by Sokrates con- 
 sisted, (I.), in tlic retrosj»ective method he employed, the 
 change in tlie subject-matter of philosophy, from things to 
 i»l«'as, iVoia lieing to knowing, ami (II.), in the ethical and 
 individualist tendency of all his work. Henceforward 
 ethics, and the etliical sciences, occu|)y, if not as with 
 Sokrates, an exclusive, at least a foremost, place in every 
 system. 
 
 The SoKUATic Schools. 
 
 In the nature of the case, it was impossible for Sokrates 
 to leave l)ehind him a scliool of pure Sokratists. His 
 philosophy was ratlier a method than a doctrine. Sokrates 
 had said tliat tlic only sense in which he could interpret 
 the Delphic oracle's words, tliat he was the wisest man in 
 (ireece, was, that while others tliought they knew some- 
 tliiiig, he knew that he knew nothing, and thus in his 
 jjerson fulfilled the Delphic maxim "Know thyself." 
 Thusthe Sokratic method of philosophy, of the search after 
 
48 
 
 GKEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [EpO€H II. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 THE SOKRATIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 49 
 
 clear ideas and virtue, or the " perfect life," was pursued m 
 various directions, and led with different temperaments 
 to different results ; for all of which, however, it was 
 possible to find some justification m the many-sided 
 utterances of the master. There were naturally, among 
 the disciples of Sokrates, personalities, like Xenophon, 
 mere men of the world, who had been generally mHutnced 
 and attracted by the conversation of Sokrates, but had no 
 independent interest in iihilosophy. , , , , 
 
 On the other hand, there were those who had a real 
 interest in the philosophical side of Sokrates, who sought 
 to derive some definite result from the life and teaching 
 of their master, to formuhite for themselves and their 
 followers what his aims were, and what his teaching 
 really led to, wlien logically carried out. ^^ 
 
 These were the founders of the minor or " imperfect 
 (because one-sided) Sokratic schools, as they are termed, 
 of which there are three, the Meijaric, the Cyrenmc and 
 the Cynic. The originator of the first of these was 
 Euklid, of Megara. BefV.re he became a disciple of 
 Sokrates, Euklid had eml>raced the Eleatic philosophy, 
 which he never subsequently abandoned, interweaving 
 the Sokratic Ethics in an ingenious manner with the 
 One-Being doctrine of Parmenides. As with Sokrates, the 
 proper subject-matter of pliilosojjhy was the Good ; but 
 Euklid identified this ideal Good of Sokrates with the 
 ontological One of the Eleatics. To him virtue, know- 
 ledge, l^od, &c., were only diverse nanies for this absobite 
 fact. ' There was certainly little more tlian a formal 
 carrying out of the Sokratic doctrine in Euklid's system, 
 since Ethics, per «c, appear to have lieen neglected by 
 him and his school, whose main intrrest centred in dia- 
 lectical polemic, after the manner of Zeno. 
 
 Ari8tii»pus, the founder of the Ci/renaic school, was the 
 son of a wealthy merchant of the gay and voluptuous city of 
 Cyrene. Attracted by the fame of Sokrates, he caiiie to 
 Athens, and remained in close intimacy with him till bis 
 death. Aristippus was much more of a Sokratist than 
 Euklid. He des|)ised all speculation not having an 
 immediate bearing on practice. Tlie life of man alone 
 had an interest for him. He diverged, however, from 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 ',♦•- 
 
 Sokrates on the opposite side to Euklid, in the value he 
 placed on Dialectics and reasoning generally ; maintaining 
 that all knowledge was in essence merely that of our own 
 individual states of feeling. Hence the consideration of 
 these and their causes make up the whole subject-matter 
 of the theoretical side of his philosophy. All states 
 of consciousness are reducible to violent motion, moderate 
 motion, and the lack of all motion. The first is pam, the 
 second is pleasure, and the third is apathy, rieasure. 
 Aristippus boldly proclaimed as the only good. The 
 practical side of philosophy was the attainment of" pleasure, 
 the great art of life that of avoiding pain and apathy. With 
 Aristippus, it was the immediate pleasure of the moment 
 that was to be sought, and which the - wise man was to 
 seize. He was not, however, to be governed or controlle<l 
 bv it, but, as it were, to ride it, as a horseman rides his 
 steed. On the other hand, the Cyrenaic '' wise man 
 would not embrace a present pain even with a view to 
 
 future pleasure. • i i +v,^ 
 
 It was this point which mainly distinguished the 
 hedonism of Aristippus from that of Epicurus, of whose 
 ethical system he was otherwise the forerunner, and in 
 whose school the Cyrenaics became subsequently merged. 
 Numerous writings are attributed to Aristippus, as to 
 Euklid, but they have completely perished m botli cases. 
 
 The creator of the Cynic school, or rather sect, was tie 
 Athenian Antisthenes, who, after an educat-ion at th.- 
 hands of Gorgias the Sophist, came to Sokrates. \\ hat 
 specially charmed him in the hitter, was his indei>eiideiice 
 of extei-nal -goods" and what to others were the m'- 
 cessities of life ; his superhuman hardihood m adversity 
 He subsequently set up as a teacher in the gymmtsium ot 
 the Kynosarges, whence the name of the sect. Antis- 
 thenes became enamoured of the notion of the pride ot 
 virtue, upon which he heard Sokrates dilate, and it was 
 this that he and his followers caricatured m tlieir own 
 persons. AVith Antisthenes, as with Sokrates virtue 
 was the one thing worth living for, but his ideal virtue 
 Antisthenes placed in deprivation and asceticism. Ab- 
 solute indifference to circumstances was the hrst and the 
 last demand of wisdom, which stood in no need ot elabo- 
 
 £ 
 
50 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLATO TVND ARISTOTLE. 
 
 51 
 
 rate ar^mentation, but only of strength of character. 
 Its sole end consisted in the avoidance of the pleasures 
 and desires that so readily gain the mastery over us, and 
 a fortiori of all that bears the impress of luxurj^ or even 
 refinement. Accordingly the Cynics (of whom the best 
 known is not so much the founder of the system, as his 
 successor, the famous Diogenes of Sinope, but whose 
 lives were all cast in one mould) were content with at 
 inost a wallet and a staff, ate anything they con Id obtain, 
 slept in the first place that presented itself, and performed 
 all the offices of life in public. The Cynics committed 
 nothing to writing, and all that has been handed down 
 from them consists of personal anecdotes, miscellaneous 
 maxims and, to modern ears, somewhat feeble witticisms. 
 
 THIRD EPOCH. 
 
 PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. 
 
 This third epoch in Greek philosophy is a landmark 
 not merely in the history of philosophy but in the history 
 of human thought and culture generally. In these 
 two great typical thinkers the thought of all preceding 
 ages converged as in a focus, while from them have 
 diverged rays, which have more or less guided all later 
 inquirers directly or indirectly, and influenced all the 
 more important currents of thought in the world's subse- 
 quent history. Plato and Aristotle are frequently regarded 
 as antithetic and mutually exclusive; they are really 
 complementary. Plato is occupied mainly with an inqnir,^^ 
 as to the necessary and universal element in experience. 
 Aristotle supplements this inquiry, by one respecting the 
 contingent and particular element in the real, the em- 
 pirical laws to which special departments of phenomena 
 are sul)ordinated. In this way, he became the founder of 
 the inductive method of physical science. Before com- 
 mencing our analysis of the systems of Plato and Aristotle 
 it will be desirable to take a rapid survey of the ground 
 we have been traversing, and which has led up to them. 
 In this way we shall better be able to judge wliat is 
 their special individual contribution to human thought, 
 and what is merely the welding together into an organic 
 whole of the more or less fragmentary doctrines of their 
 predecessors. 
 
 The Ionian Physicists contented themselves with a 
 search after some primitive corporeal substance. In this 
 they implicitly assumed unity as the basis of the real 
 world. The last important member of the school, 
 Diogenes of Apollonia, explicitly formulated the monistic 
 doctrine, and endeavoured to show that the world must 
 be so to speak *' cut out of one block," that there must he 
 one principle immanent in its multiplicity. This, the 
 Pythagoreans had already accentuated in their doctrine 
 of the Noetic one, or unity, in which all numbers, and, a 
 
 E 2 
 
 / 
 
52 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 fortiori, all things were immanent. But the Pythagoreans, 
 besides this, removed the inquiry from the ground ot 
 concrete substance to that of abstract mathematical 
 relatione. These were of course hypostasized, and made 
 the essences of which the real world was the manitesta- 
 tion, and which were in their turn the manifestation ot the 
 original unity. Thus at the same time that an addition 
 to "the range of philosophic inquiry was made by this 
 introduction of abstract notions, the monistic principle 
 was raised to an integral place in philosophy. 1 he 
 Eleatics, by pushing tliis principle to its extreme limits, 
 forced into relief the opposition of the abstract and the 
 concrete, the one and the many, an opposition which 
 
 they made absolute. -, . i. j x i 
 
 They were thus compelled by their fundamental 
 principle to deny the sense-world, an issue which led to 
 the introduction of a Dialectic, based on an examination 
 Ol its fundamental notions. But the one-sided Monism 
 of the Southern Italians was encountered in Asia Minor 
 by a Monism embodied in perhaps the most brilliant 
 of all the pre-Sokratic systems, that of Herakleitos. This 
 Uonhm took its stand on the fusion of the veiy contraries 
 whose opposition the Eleatics would have made absolute. 
 The other philosoiihers of the Metaphysical-Physicist 
 grouT) attempted the solution of the same problem— 
 namely, to find a modus viDeiidi between abstract absolute 
 Being and the multiplicity of the sense-world— but they 
 failed to formulate anything satisfactory. They all 
 sacrificed the one to the many at starting;^ their systems 
 are iduralistic ; in other words, the knot is cut but not 
 untied. Then came the Sophists, who placed all these 
 vaiious systems on a level, by declaring man to be the 
 measure of all things, thereby practically denying the 
 possibility of trutli in a higher sense. Following the 
 hint given by them, thougli despising their pedantry, 
 Sokrates abandoned the search for physical or meta- 
 physical truth, and applied himself to the search for 
 locrical truth, to the definition and formulation of concepts, 
 aifd the uttainineiit of " virtue " which necessarily followed 
 from a knowledge of the ideal " good." Sokrates was em- 
 phatically the philosopher and the apostle of inwardness. 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLA-TO AND ARISTOTLE. 
 
 53 
 
 "Know thyself," was the beginning and end of his 
 teaching. But this self-knowledge involved the trans- 
 formation of the confused and haphazard thought ot the 
 multitude, which the least criticism could involve in 
 hopeless contradiction, into clear, well-defined notions, 
 capable of universal application. , . . ;i 
 
 A development of three hundred years thus culminated 
 in Plato. Plato represents the synthesis of Sokratism and 
 Pre-Sokratism. In Plato the essence of the whole pre- 
 Sokratic philosophy is to }ye found transfused and trans- 
 formed by the Dialectic of Sokrates. The element which 
 is most prominent in the constructive portion of his 
 work is Pythagoreanism, but he owes scarcely less a debt 
 10 the Eleatics, to Herakleitos, and even to the sceptical 
 
 theories of the Sophists. ., • r -nw 
 
 Aristotle, while starting from the synthesis of llato, 
 brought the power of his mighty intellect to bear upon 
 it with the result that he effected a more complete fusion 
 of the pre-Sokratic thought than even Plato had done ; 
 that is, he seized more completely the meaning and the 
 essential in those systems. He more thoroughly separated 
 the ore, which they severally contained, from the accidental 
 dross with which it was combined. For instance, how 
 many a clumsily expressed doctrine and distinction ot 
 Pythagorean and Eleatic lay hidden under the cardinal 
 antithesis of form and matter. What a light was cast on 
 the problems of philosophy by the at once definite and com- 
 prehensive expression (an expression covering neitlier too 
 much nor too little), of a principle which preceding thinkers 
 had been vainly groping after in the dark, now grasping it 
 for an instant, now blindly clutching at some other, quite 
 unessential fact in mistake for it. But Aristotle s more 
 iiopular, though not greater title to fame, lay m liis 
 foundation of the inductive method, and of natunil science 
 itself in the modern sense of the word. Observation 
 and experiment, the collection, sifting and comparison ot 
 facts, with a view of through them arriving at general 
 principles, has its origin in the thinker of Stagira. 
 
54 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 Plato, or to give him his correct appellation, Aristokles, 
 was bom at Athens about B.C. 429, his father's name being 
 Ariston, and his mother's Feriktione. His youth was 
 passed amid the artistic splendours which the age of 
 Perikles had left behind it. Born of an aristociatic 
 family, he hated the democracy of Athens no less than his 
 master, Sokrates. As a youth, he apjiears to have occu- 
 pied himself with poetic attempts, which he committed to 
 the flames, when in his twentieth year, he decided^ to 
 devote himself to philo80i)hy. Previously to his acquaint- 
 ance with Sokrates, whith occurred at this time, he 
 received instruction in philosophy from Kratylos the 
 Herakleitan, and probably from Epicharmos the Pytha- 
 gorean. He also seems to have been conversant with the 
 philosophy of the Ionian school, as well as with that of 
 Anaxagoras. Of his long and close intimacy with Sokrates, 
 in the course of which his own system gradually took 
 shape, it is only necessary to make mention. 
 
 After the execution of his master, he repaired to Megara, 
 remaining some time in companionship with Euklid, doubt- 
 less devoting himself with ardour to the Eleatic philo- 
 sophy, of which Euklid was the great post-Sokratic ex- 
 ponent. He subsequently entered upon a prolonged 
 period of travel, visiting first Ionia, and then Cyrene 
 and Egypt, and occupying himself with mathematical and 
 other studies. Of more influence on his subsequent in- 
 tellectual development was his journey to Italy, where 
 he became more intimately acquainted with the Pytha- 
 gorean system, and more thoroughly assimilated its doc- 
 trines, than previously. Po8sil)ly this influence^ induced 
 him to intermeddle with the political affairs of Syrakuse. 
 It was on his way home thence to Atliens, that he was 
 (under circumstances variously related) captured and 
 sold into slavery ; a state in which he might have 
 remained but for the interposition of his friend, Annikeris, 
 the Cyrenaie, who ransomed him. On his arrival at Athens, 
 about forty years of age, he founded his school in the 
 groves of Akademos, subsequently purchasing the garden 
 
 \v 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 55 
 
 on the hill Kolonos, as its perpetual possession. With 
 the exception of two further fruitless expeditions to Sicily, 
 he remained in Athens, devoting himself to teaching and 
 writing for the remainder of his life, which terminated 
 
 B.C* o^it 
 
 Plato's Philosophy. 
 
 Plato is the first ancient thinker of whom we possess 
 anything more than fragments. All Plato's works are 
 exoteric, that is, suited not only for the school, but for 
 cultured readers generally. Critics, ancient and modern, 
 have exercised their wits in determining which of the 
 writings that have come down as Plato's are genuine, and 
 which are the works of disciples. Even in Antiquity 
 attempts were made to fix the order of the Platonic 
 Dialogues in a systematic manner. In connexion with 
 modem Platonic exegesis, it is sufficient to cite the names 
 of Schleiermacher (Plato 8 Lehen und Schriften), Socher 
 (Ueber Plato's Schriften), Stallbaum (in his critical edition 
 of Plato's works), Hermann (Geschichte der Platonischen 
 Phihsophie, ZeWer (Philosophie der Griechen), Grote (Plato 
 and the other companions of Sokrates), and Jowett (Plato s 
 works translated into English). 
 
 The content of Plato's philosophy naturally falls into 
 the well-known division of Dialectics, Physics, and Ethics, 
 although it is doubtful if he himself so formulated it. The 
 positive doctrines have to be sought out in the various 
 dialogues, each of which is, generally speaking, devoted 
 to the elucidation of some one point, but all of which 
 possess a merely negative and preparatory in addition to 
 their positive side. Plato, like any modern philosophic 
 writer, always pre-supposes in his readers a knowledge ol 
 the chief philosophical literature of his time. His polemic, 
 in common with that of his master Sokrates, is mainly 
 directed against prevalent conceptions, and the doctrines 
 of the Sophists ; though there were not wanting sly shafts 
 aimed at the Sokratic teaching itself. 
 
 In the Theatsetus and the Parmenides, "common 
 sense" is attacked; its object is shown to possess no 
 stability, and its existence to be at the best, probaliility 
 or opinion merely. The goal of all these discussions is to 
 
tm Jill 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 produce scepticism of ordinary notions and the dictates 
 of im reflective perception ; and is thus identical with the 
 conviction of ignoiance, which it was the aim of the 
 Sokratic Dialectic to hring about. But this is with Plato 
 only the recoil previous to the philosophic spring about to 
 be made. All philosophy begins with the reductio ad 
 abstirdiim of common notions. There is no true knowledge ; 
 wisdom, or even morality, but that attained through philo- 
 sophic reflection. The virtue of the common man is the 
 eftcct of chance and custom. The success even of a 
 Ferikles, is merely due to a happy concurrence of character 
 and circumstances. In the ordinary sense the man is 
 termed brave, even though he fights from fear ; but no 
 action is really virtuous which does not spring from a full 
 consciousness of its grounds. It is not, as with tlie 
 Sophists, the mdmdual perception or opinion that sums 
 ui> the truth for man, but that which is divine and umver- 
 sal in him, namely, the reflective, self-comprehending 
 Reason. Plato draws the distinction between impulse and 
 rational will, and shows that where pleasure is made of 
 set purpose the sole principle of action, the reverse of 
 pleasure is attained. (Gorgids.) 
 
 The subjective condition of true knowledge is philo- 
 sophical yearning or desire. Neither the all-knowing 
 (ao<f>6<s) nor the wholly ignorant (dfiaOr}^) is concerned 
 therewith, but only the lover of wisdom (<^tAo(ro<^o?), 
 lie, namely, who represents the mean between perfect know- 
 ledge and absolute ignorance. The philosophical impulse 
 is the germ from which art, morality and science proceed, 
 but it needs training and nourishment. The learning 
 which is the nourishment of the impulse, is the study of 
 the beautiful. Hence music* is named as the introduction 
 to philosophy. Mathematics is another stage midway 
 between sense-perception and intellectual intuition. But 
 the highest of all is tlie dialectical art. (Phsedo, Eepuhlic.) 
 Dialectics stands in opposition to the Ehetoric of the 
 Sophists, which only teaches the art of expression. It is 
 in dialogue, that by the sifting and opposition of common 
 
 * " ^Vlusic," it muHt be Iwrne in mind, with the ancients meant 
 general culture, excluding mathematics and philosophy. 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 57 
 
 opinions, the true, the universal is evolved. Antithetic 
 procedure is best for clear conceiving, as the consequences 
 of a conception and its opposite are then drawn from its 
 definition. But while the ironic method of Sokrates, the 
 Sophists, and of Zeno, is commended as a means, yet viewed 
 as an end in itself it is no less condemned. The ascent to 
 a correctly defined conception does not exhaust the process. 
 When it is reached, its grounds and its relations to other 
 concepts have further to be determined. Plato, in his 
 most subtle analyses, never loses sight of the fact that 
 philosophy is and must he a unity or nothing. Thus the 
 desire or love of knowledge (eros) is not sufficient to make 
 the philosopher. He must understand and practise the 
 dialectical art. In the Symposium Sokrates is treated 
 as the incarnation of the Eros or love of wisdom. Plato, 
 it should be observed, speaks somewhat differently in 
 different places of Dialectics. Sometimes he identifies 
 it with truth or philosophy itself, while at others, he more 
 consistently speaks of it as the ante-chamber to knowledge, 
 philosophy or truth. 
 
 Most of the more specifically dialectical among Plato's 
 dialogues (e.g., the Thea?tetus, the Sophists, the Par- 
 menides, the Kratylos) are occupied with the attempt to 
 discover a via media between Eleaticism and Herakleitism, 
 between the conception of Being as one, self-existent, im- 
 movable, unchangeable, and the manifold, independent, 
 moving, changeful world of sense-perception. Plato saw a 
 lialf-truth in l)oth of these doctrines ; he also saw their seem- 
 ingly contradictory nature. Hence his aim was to resolve 
 this contradiction in a higher unity. This could only be 
 effected on l*latonic principles by their mutual trituration, 
 so to speak. In the Parmenides,* l^lato seeks to show that 
 Eleaticism is destroyed by its own arguments, since its 
 negation of the manifold, &c., leads to fully as great contra- 
 dictions as the opposite doctrine. The One in and above 
 the Mamj, Being in Becoming, Identity in Difference, and that 
 which, existent, cannot be thought of, except as limited 
 by non-existence is variously designated by Plato as oftws 
 koj/, as Xoyos (a word first employed in a philosophical sense 
 
 • The penuinenees of the Parmenides has been more than once 
 disputed, but to all appearance on ground scarcely adequate. 
 
58 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch TIL 
 
 by Herakleitos, whose subsequent history is both curious and 
 important as regards speculative thought), as ovaia, as 
 ycVos, as €t8o5 vurjTovy or finally as iSea. The last term 
 is the one with which Plato's system is most character- 
 istically associated. What Plato understood by Ideas is at 
 once seen when we rememljer that he says there are as 
 many Ideas as general names. The synthesis of qualities 
 connoted in a universal term constitute the archetypal 
 form or Idea of the concrete individuals which are flenoted 
 by it. Thus the general names " house," " bed," " animal," 
 stand for the self-existent archetypal ideas of all the par- 
 ticulars and singulars falling severally under them, that is 
 at once for all particular kinds of houses, beds or animals, 
 and for every individual house, bed or animal. Plato's via 
 media between the Eleatic changeless one and the Herak- 
 leitan flux of the many consisted in the system of Ideas, 
 which showed a hierarchical order of gradation from the 
 highest and most abstract concept to the concrete real of 
 experience. Thus with Plato the inchoate " non-existent " 
 world of pure sense was no less an element in the reality 
 of consciousness than the self-existent world of pure in- 
 telligibility. The properly non-existent world of sense 
 acquired a pseudo-existence through its participation in 
 the world of ideas, the synthesis being our real world. But 
 the essence of the Platonic ideas is not exhausted in their 
 being the self-existent basis of the class they cover ; they 
 must also l>e regarded as potences positing their own ends. 
 With this notion of end we get into the region of ethics 
 and ontology or teleology. In the Phmdo, we are expressly 
 warned against conceiving the causal conditions of things 
 as their true basis (atna), for this latter can only lie in 
 their end or purpose. The teleological aspect of individual 
 things or of classes of things is indicated by the comparatives 
 better, best, which presuppose their relation to an absolute 
 universal ideal good, as the ultimate end, that in which all 
 other ends, and, afwtiori, all ideas, are, so to speak, gathered 
 up and concentrated. When we consider the ontological 
 system of ideas as also a teleological system of ends, it is 
 evident that this system must culminate in an Idea which 
 presents itself as the liighest end, that to which all othe 
 Ideas as ends tend to approach in varying degrees. 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 59 
 
 Thus with Plato the highest Idea or ultimate end-in- 
 itself was manifested in a multitude of subordinate ideas or 
 *'ends ;" and thus the problem of Pythagorean and Eleatic, 
 the problem of the One and the Many was solved, the vovs 
 of Anaxagoras, and the " good " of Sokrates being embraced 
 in the solution. Hence, too, Plato achieved what his friend 
 Euklid the Megaric had attempted, namely, an ethical 
 Monism on the Sokratic Hues. By Plato's highest and 
 comprehensive principle of the Good is to be understood 
 the universal icorld-order, natural no less than moral. 
 The absolute end or purpose as the "ov ovtws" is the 
 object of Dialectics, inasmuch as this science leads from 
 the lower ideas, which are the determinations of things, to 
 that which is the determination of all determinations them- 
 selves. But the dialectician must not be satisfied merely 
 with ascending from the lowest to the highest, he must 
 also be able to deduce all lower ideas and all particular things 
 from this highest principle. In his later life Plato seems 
 to have more and more tended to Pythagoreanism, or at 
 least to a Pythagorean mode of statement. This appears 
 most prominently in tlie Philehos. The mathematical 
 treatment of the doctrine of ideas which is there attempted 
 leads to results almost identical with the Pythagorean 
 theories. The idea of the good is identified with the Deity 
 or divine Eeason as well as with the Pythagorean Noetic 
 One. The high estimation of the mathematical sciences, 
 which is noticeable in the later writings, is not discoverable 
 in the Republic and other of the more important dialogues, 
 where they are spoken of merely as one of the preparatory 
 stages from mere " opinion " to the higher philosophical 
 insights obtained through the dialectical faculty, superior 
 indeed to the first but inferior to the second, inasmuch 
 as their subject-matter is still within the region of sense. 
 
 Plato's doctrine of reminiscence, as presented in the Mem, 
 the Phsedrus and elsewhere, is founded on the notion of 
 the ultimate identity of the divine and human minds. The 
 soul in its union with a material body enters on a i)eriod of 
 degradation in which it has fallen from its high estate as 
 a pure existent intelligible or formal essence, and become 
 contaminated with the non-existent world of sense. But, 
 however low it has sunk, it never entirely loses traces of 
 
60 
 
 liitliiJcjll rtilijijoxjrtix. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 its origin. The possibility of its regaining its lost birth- 
 right, nay, even the possibility of |>hilosophy itself lies in 
 this fact, in that it has a remembrance of the higher 
 realities it was wont to contemplate, and which it is the 
 object of the philosopher to disentangle from the confusion 
 of sense, and rehabilitate as far as may be in tht'ir purity. 
 This, which is the end of the jihiloscipher's life, can only be 
 proximately attained in this sphere of existence ; yet the 
 soul illumined by the philosophic contemj)lation may rise 
 in proportion to its light the more speedily to be re- 
 absorbed into that divine essence, in which the material, 
 the sensible, has vanished, and the formal, and the intel- 
 ligible, alone remains. How much of this as of other 
 portions of l*lato's doctrine was merely pcjetry or allegory, 
 it is impossible to decide with certainty, but there is 
 no serious reason for doubting that it was really held by 
 Plato. 
 
 l*lato'8 physical speculations are contained almost in 
 their entirety in the Timseus. Inasmuch as the material 
 universe is only the object of perception and not of pure 
 intellection, no such strict deduction of principles can be 
 expected in dealing with it, as in subjects capable of the 
 application of pure Dialectic. The most that can he 
 furnished is a body of probable opinion. The question 
 immediately arises, what is that which must be added to 
 the system or complex of Ideas in order that it may 
 appear as Nature, or in other words, as the Good in the 
 harmonious order of the sensible universe. The answer is, 
 that, in the first place, the superadded principle must be 
 foreign to the system of ideas itself; the one being per se 
 the totality of absolute Being, the other must be that of 
 absolute non-Being ; since the one is the principle of all- 
 embracing and eternal unity, the other must be that of 
 self-contradictory, evanescent multiplicity.* This princijile 
 must in short be none other than that unqualified, form- 
 less, inconceivable matter which is the object of pure sense. 
 Pure seme must not be confounded with conscious percep- 
 tion which involves a participation in the ideal or logical ; 
 
 * It may be observed in passinj^, that this is simply a roundabout 
 mode of stating the Aristotelian distinction of form and matter, which 
 all the dialogues of Plato are struggling to express. 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 61 
 
 it is rather mere inchoate sub-conscious /eeZ/w*/ (the hlinde 
 Anschauumj of Kant). This is the properly non-existent 
 element in the real world, and this it is which added to, 
 or rather limiting, and, so to speak, blurring the ideal 
 world transforms it into Nature or the world of actual 
 experience. The purely sensible or non-existent as 
 opposed to the purely intelligble or existent object seems 
 to be identified by Plato as by Aristotle, with pure 
 extension or space. Plato may have well seen in space 
 the medium by which the self-contained ideas were 
 confounded with one another and with their negation, 
 in the form of concrete objects. 
 
 The foregoing doctrine, though not expressed in so 
 many words by Plato, is implied more or less throughout 
 his writings, and is the only consistent mode of stating 
 in a few words his position. It is introduced here as 
 assisting the student to understand the transition from 
 the dialectical to the physical side of his philosophy. In 
 the Timseus the universe is conceived as an animated being, 
 *' a blessed God," created by a Demiurge or divine artificer, 
 a conception, however, difficult to reconcile with the 
 other side of the system, and illustrating the looseness 
 and essentially unsystematic character of Plato's ex- 
 position where it is so often hard to distinguish between 
 philosophy and poetry. But it seems that Plato identified 
 his creator with the supreme *' Idea " or the *' Good." 
 The soul of the world which pervades its every part, 
 manifesting itself in the numbers and harmony of the 
 spheres no less than in the laws regulating mundane 
 phenomena — was created prior to the body or material of 
 the universe. Time is coincident with its formation. 
 The universe represents the best p(»ssible of worlds. 
 As the chaotic matter took form and shape it assumed 
 determinate mathematical figures and relations. Thus 
 the elementary constituents of fire are of pyramidal 
 figure, those of water, icosahedral, those of air octahedral, 
 and those of earth cubical. The spheres once constituted 
 the deity proceeds to the creation of living beings. First 
 in order come the heavenly gods (which are identified in 
 part at best with the stars and other celestial bodies) ; 
 secondly, the creatures inhabiting the air ; thirdly, those 
 
62 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 living in water ; and finally, those whose dwelling-place 
 is the earth. Plato then gives a mythical description of 
 the origin of those inferior Kpecies of animals which the 
 supreme deity himself has not formed, but whose creation 
 is delegated to the lower gods, with the exception of 
 whatsoever is immortal in their constitution. Man is the 
 analogue of the universe, in so far as, like the world, he 
 consists of body and soul in mysterious unity. His soul 
 is of a dual or indeed triple nature. In the head is lodged 
 the divine and immortal part ; in the breast the mortal and 
 human part, consisting of the passions; while the liver 
 and spleen were constructed and placed where they are 
 for the purpose of divination and prediction of the future. 
 The later chapters of the Timmus show that Plato, like 
 most of his contemporaries, was a believer in metem- 
 psychosis, and contain some curious and fanciful applica- 
 tions of that widespread and time-honoured doctrine. 
 Such is a brief outline of Plato's cosmical theory. 
 
 The essence of the Platonic metaiihysic we have seen to 
 consist in the doctrine, that to every concept or general 
 name, there corresponds an eternal, self-existent essence or 
 idea ; that the system of idem thence 'arising has at once 
 as its basis and completion, the idea of the Good which is 
 the common principle alike of beiog and knowing, and 
 from which therefore all subordinate concepts and ideas 
 are deducible (according to the Philebos on mathematical 
 princiijles). This " good," it will liave been apparent, is 
 a3sthetic and teleological as well as specially ethical. 
 But inasmuch as it is the object of all philosophy, it is of 
 course none the less so of Ethics. In this connection we 
 have to regard it as constituting the content of the human 
 will. Plato in the Thewtetm expresses himself ve- 
 hemently against the Cyrenaic Hedonists who would 
 make pleasure the chief good. In the Philehos (as in the 
 Mejmhlic and elsewhere, though at less length) he de- 
 velops the thesis that only in the Beautiful and, a fortiori, 
 in the Proportionate (since to l*lato beauty consisted in 
 nothing but symmetry, proportion, and harmony) does 
 the good lie, and hence that all excess eitlier on the side 
 of asceticism or indulgence is evil, a jiosition in consonance 
 with his general attitude. Intemperate and exaggerated 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 63 
 
 tendencies and conduct he regards as diseases of the soul, 
 since they imply the ascendency of the merely human and 
 animal over the divine portions, in other words a lack of 
 the regulating power of insight and reason, and a conse- 
 quent blind irrational play of impulses, indicating a dis- 
 turbance of normal functions, corresponding to that 
 observable in bodily disease. We have seen how Plato 
 identifies the ethical with the aesthetic chief good which 
 was at the same time the highest end. We shall, therefore, 
 not be suri)rised at his teleological definition of Virtue as 
 the adaptability of the life to its end— a definition which 
 embraces all particular virtues and is coincident with 
 Justice. Virtue is to be pursued as an end in itself, and 
 on^ no account for subsidiary ends, such as pleasure and 
 pain, reward and punishment. To do evil is always 
 worse than to sufier evil. 
 
 In the JRejmhlic we have a presentation of the "good " 
 in the form of perfect virtue or justice as embodied in the 
 social order of a commonwealth, in the same way that in 
 the Tinmus we had a presentation of the manner in which 
 this same idea embodied itself as harmony in the natural 
 order of the cosmos. The state is nothing but a magnified 
 individual. The highest function of the state is the 
 training of its citizens to be virtuous. The orders in the 
 state must correspond to the virtues of the human soul, 
 consisting of the rulers, whose specific virtue is wisdom, 
 corresponding to the divine part ; the guardians or wan-iors 
 whose virtue is courage, corresponding to the emotional, 
 active, or human part; and the traders and labourers 
 whose virtue is self-control and obedience, corresponding 
 to the part of the soul concerned with nutrition and the 
 organic functions.* There are to be no private interests 
 or wealtli, but all things are to be in common. Neither 
 is marriage, or the fiimily relation to be recognised. The 
 condition of the realization of this ideal state lies in the 
 assumption of tlie helm of affairs by statesmen who are at 
 the same time philosophers. This jdatonic Utopia, though 
 based ou the then actually existing Lacedemonian polity, 
 
 The ancients knew nothing of any hard and fast distinction 
 between the " soul " and the Ufe of the organism ; the one was a part 
 of the otlier. 
 
64 
 
 GBEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 Plato supplemented in his later years by a modified 
 version elaborated in the Laws which was put forward as 
 more easy of attainment. 
 
 Plato can hardly be said to have formulated a system 
 proper. He retained too much of the Sokratic Bpint and 
 method of pretended ignorance ever to peimit himselt tlie 
 expreesion of a decided judgment. The fonii moreover, 
 which he adopted for his writings rendered this impossi- 
 ble. His views on the various departmentn ot i)hil«Jsoptiy 
 are' not grouped in any way, and even those on any one 
 Bubiect, often conflicting, have generally to l)e gathered 
 together from several diiferent dialogues. Under these 
 circumstances the difficulty of furnishing a condensed 
 account of true Platonism is sufficiently obvious, llato 
 may be considered as the founder of what is now known as 
 " Theory of Knowledge." The pre-Sokratic thinkers had 
 inquired for the principles of Being ; Sokrates opposed to 
 their inquiry that as to the principle of Knowimj ; I lato, 
 while starting from the standpoint of Sokrates, sought to 
 show that the two inquiries were identical, that Being in- 
 volved Knowing, as Knowing involved Being. Plato was 
 thus the first consistent Idealist. The only existence to 
 him was the logical, the Ideal ; which was limited and 
 confounded by the non-existent Sensible. , ■ ^ i 
 
 Surprise has suiuetimes l>e«-n expressed at Plato s mclud- 
 in*^ besides abstract concepts proper, Le., such as express 
 qualities, " natural kinds" or "class names" among his 
 eternal self-existent ideas. To us it seems that it was m 
 these latter tliat he l>elieved himself to have found the 
 bridge between the sen se-maiii fold of experience and the 
 inteliigibles of Dialectics. '* Natural Kinds," in other 
 words, universals connoting a ready-made synthesis and 
 only awaiting the " here" and '* now " of sense for their 
 concrete realisation, were plainly the link between the 
 empirical and the intelligible worids, between tlie worid 
 of change and multiplicity given in ordinary conscious- 
 ness, and that worid of abstract ideas, to the contempla- 
 tion of whicli the philo80|>lier aspired. The ol»jects of 
 the real world bore, doiil»tleHH, to Plato, much the same 
 relation to the natural kinds which denoted tlicm, as the 
 system of ideas itself bore to the Supreme Idea. 
 
 Epoch in.] 
 
 AEISTOTLE. 
 
 65 
 
 There are some students who may be inclined to 
 wonder at Plato's deification of the concept-form or 
 universal ; at what seems to be mere logical subtlety 
 being constituted " our being's aim and end." Such 
 persons forget the fact that education and culture 
 itself is nothing other than self-universalisation. Every 
 advance the individual makes in the higher life of 
 tlioiight means a breaking down of the limits which con- 
 fine him to the "here," the "this," and the ''now;" in 
 sliort, in a sense a suspension, or at least, an ignoring of 
 those space-and-time relations which rule supreme in 
 the every-day world of his and his neighbours' " con- 
 cerns." Listen to the conversation of a company of 
 tradesmen, or women; of what does it consist, but of 
 gossip immediately bearing on concrete personalities and 
 their surroundings; every thing turns on this. Listen, on 
 the other hand, to the conversation of a company of 
 thinkers, and it will in all probability be found to consist 
 of discussion concerning, not the interests of any concrete 
 person or persons, leastways qua concrete, but of things 
 and places or events probably far distant in time or space, 
 but at all events in their abstract and general relations 
 and altogether ajiart from personalities as such and their 
 interests. It may be ])ermitted us to regard this at least 
 as one of tlie side-truths sliadowed forth in the work of 
 Plato. With this concluding observation, we pass on to 
 Plato's great pupil and successor, Aristotle. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 The birth of Aristotle was east in one of the most 
 critical i)eriods of Greciiin history. The old independent 
 political life of the Greek cities was l»e*mg extinguished 
 by the monarch of a state that had hitherto taken little 
 or no part in the affairs of (J recce. It was at Stageiros, or 
 Stagira~a city of this rising state, destined witliin the 
 next half-century to licet aiie the master of the greater 
 part of the tlien known wdrLl^that Aristotle was born 
 (B.C. oSo). His father, Kikoniachos, and grandfather, 
 
66 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 Epoch III] 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 67 
 
 Macliaon, were both physiciriTis, an interesting circiim- 
 stance to the student of heredity. Losing his father when 
 a looy, Aristotle was early thrown on his own resources, 
 and at seventeen years of "age, came to seek his fortune m 
 Athens, where Plato, then in the prime of life, was 
 attracting to his lectures the philosophically-disposed 
 among his fellow citizens. Aristotle seems to have found 
 the leisure, in spite of his own professional avocations as 
 apothecary, to become a regular attendant at the Academy. 
 Some years later he set up as a professor of Ehetoric, 
 but after Plato's death, left Athens, and repaired with his 
 fellow-pupil, Xenokrates, to Hermeias, the tyrant of 
 Atarneus, whoso brother's daughter ho subsequently 
 married. On the death of Henneias, he went to reside m 
 the island of Mytilene, till called away by the offer of 
 Philip of Macedon, to entnist him with the education of 
 his son Alexander, then thirteen years old. Aristotle 
 remained at the court of Macedon four years, and did not 
 quit the country- for a further period of four years, when 
 he returned to Athens and established himself as teacher 
 of philosophy in tlie Lyceum, a building deriving its 
 name from the circumstance of its standing opposite the 
 temple of Apollo Lykeios. The name " peripatetic," w4iich 
 clung to Aristotle's school, arose from his habit of pacing 
 its halls while lecturing. His activity as lecturer only 
 lasted thirteen years, after which, in consequence of a 
 political accusation, he left Athens for Chalkis, where he 
 died, B.C. 322, just one year after Ids pupil, Alexander the 
 Great. 
 
 Aristotle's Philosophy. 
 
 The features mainly distinguishing the writings of 
 Aristotle from those of Plato, are their strictly philosophical 
 character, there being no trace in them of any artistic 
 purpose. A legend relatrs tliat though Aristotle began his 
 literary career l)y tlie composition of dialogues after the 
 manner of Plato, he soon abandoned that form in despair 
 of ever ajiproaehing the master. In addition to these 
 dialogues, he wiotc other popular pieces, to which allusions 
 are made by many ancient writers, Iwisides Aristotle him- 
 self, but these have all perished with the exception of one 
 
 'M ' 
 
 or two fragments. Aristotle's writings have reached us 
 in a state of great confusion, and in some cases corruption, 
 while several treatises (e.g., the Eudemean and the " great " 
 Ethics) handed down as the Stagirite's, are now univer- 
 sally recognised as the compilations of disciples. Several 
 complete editions of Aristotle have appeared since the 
 Aldiue, published at Florence, in five folio volumes, in the 
 loth century. The best is generally considered to be that 
 of Bekker and Biandis, issued under the auspices of the 
 Berlin Academy of Sciences (4 vols., 1831-35). 
 
 In the Aristotelian philosophy, the departments of 
 Logic, Physics, and Ethics become even more definitely 
 pronounced than in the Platonic. Eecognising, with 
 Plato, the indwelling yearning for knowledge • as the 
 basis of philosophy, Aristotle maintains that philosophy 
 is nothing but the extension and methodisation of common 
 experience ; that it does not, as Plato contended, involve a 
 complete break with the sense-manifold, but that on the 
 contrary it has its origin in common perception, or in 
 other words, in particular objects. Experience is merely 
 constituted out of the successive recognition of likeness 
 in perceptions. Common sense thus involves a universal 
 element no less than philosophy itself, although its relation 
 to philosophy is that of a particular. The whole of know- 
 ledge is a scale or ladder in which there is no break, but 
 a continuous progressive ascent from the singular sense- 
 perception to the highest generalisation of speculative 
 thought. 
 
 The occupation with mere logical fuiTus, the uni- 
 versal of Plato, abstracts from an essential element in 
 all existence, the higher no less than the lower — namely, 
 the material element. The grounds of the reason can 
 never, according to Aristotle, attain to the accuracy of 
 sense-perception. Nevertheless, Aristotle assumes the 
 fundamental position of speculative thought. Ontology, 
 or the " first philosophy " of Aristotle, inasmuch as it 
 professes to deduce the existent from principles, presup- 
 poses the question, what is a principle ? The answer to 
 this question is to be found in the four different senses 
 of the words aiVta and dpxv- The first book of the Meta- 
 physics, which is the earliest attempt at a systematic 
 
 F 2 
 
68 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 history of philosophy, is an endcavonr to illustrate tlieso 
 four different senses hy the various systems of philosophy. 
 With the lonians the principle or cause was matter ; with 
 the Pythagoreans, /orw ; with Empedokles, efficient came; 
 with Anaxagoras, end or final came. By 7natt<'r (.'At/) 
 Aristotle understands the war|) or basis, so to si)eak, to ho 
 operated on, or which becomes. Thus la-onze is the matt or 
 of the statue, the acorn of the oak, the premisses of the 
 conclusion, the instnitnent of the music it produces, the 
 component sounds of the octave, the letters of which it 
 consists of the word, etc., etc. 3[af(er is in short the tin- 
 determined real. In the instances given it is of course 
 only relatively undetermined, hut, emidoyed in an on to- 
 logical sense, the term means the aUolutehj undetermined, 
 corresponding to the unqualified Infinite of Anaximandros, 
 or the non-existent sense-ohject of Plato. Matter con- 
 Bidered per se, that is, ahstracted from all determination, 
 coincides with the potential It is the mere pcmihiUti/ of 
 the Real ; the incomplete, the nnhecome factor therein. 
 
 The second and opposite principle, that of form (fiop(firi, 
 Xoyo?), denotes pure determination, the Platonic Idea, 
 This second principle is related to the first, as activity to 
 passivity, as actuality to potentiality. It is the figure 
 into which the bronze is fashioned, to constitute it a 
 statue ; the melody which is produced by the notes of the 
 flute ; the relation of the sounds which give the octave ; the 
 particular conjunction of letters which make the Avord ; the 
 articulate whole into which the parts are gatliere.l up, 
 or the mass is moulded, etc. In au oiitological sense it is 
 of course pure, absolute determination as distinguished 
 from the merely relative determination of the instances 
 given. In short, the form of Aristotle corresponds as 
 nearly as possible to the self-existent intelligilde world of 
 Plato, just as the rnatter of Aristotle corresponds to tlie 
 non-existent sense-world of Plato. But with Aristotle 
 there was no such thing as pure form (ideas) existing per 
 se and apart from mattrr. Form onlyjexistcd in and for 
 matter, as a si)ecific modification of matter. Aristotle is 
 vehement in his polemic against tlie Platonic ideas, the 
 unirersalia ante res. But, while to assume as Plato did, tlie 
 existence of pure forms apart from the matter of which 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 69 
 
 they are the form, is inadmissilde ; it is equally plain 
 that pure uufpuilitied matter can never be an object of 
 experience. Hence, to Aristotle, tlie two elements in 
 question were equally essential to exi)erience, and to all 
 reality whatever, as much to *'true" as to empirical 
 being. This Aristotelian distinction of itself marks an 
 ei>oeli, most momentijus in tlie history of thought, and at 
 once clears the ground of a mass of extraneous material. 
 
 As regards the third sense of the Word principle (to 
 indicate which Aristotle makes use of a variety of ex- 
 pressions, but all of whicli are summed up with tolerable 
 accuracy in the well-known scholastic phrase causa 
 efiirieiis) it is enough to remark that it refers to the 
 immediate empirical cause, or antecedent condition, 
 (efiicient causejof anything, and is antithetical to tcAos, or 
 the fourth sense of the word, which is that <ji' final cause or 
 purpose. The re^.o's, it is imj)ortant to remt^anber, is the 
 ultimate and highest form of the reality of a thing, to 
 the attainment of which all the other forms are sub- 
 servient, and with reference to which they may be regarded 
 as means merely. 
 
 The four factors above enumerated furnish the data of 
 ontology. Foremost comes the negative result before 
 mentioned, that neither mere matter, nor mere form con- 
 stitute the existent Eeal, Init the union or synthesis of 
 matter and form. This is insisted upon as regards matter 
 against the Hylozoists, as regards form against the Eleatics 
 and Plato. Matter is the becoming — neither being nor 
 non -being, but, as Ferrier would have put it, more than 
 O and less than I. There is no passage from non-Being to 
 Being, but only from the not-yet-existent to the at-present 
 existent. The oi'fjm (essence), though sometimes employed 
 as coincident with form, is generally used for the 
 synthesis itself. The whole essence or synthesis, the real 
 existent, is also said to be constituted out of the two 
 momenta, the genaa and the differentia — the first cor- 
 responding to matter, and the second to form. Thus 
 Sokrates may l>e described as made up of the matter (genus) 
 of man and the form {dijj'erentla) of Sokratity. But the 
 synthesis is not to ]>e regarded as a fixed or static entity. 
 For Aristotle, all reality is expressed in the logical passage 
 
70 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IIL 
 
 from matter to form ; that is, from a lower, to a higher, 
 from the less complex to the more complex — the lower 
 stage l)eing related as matter to the incoming element, the 
 form, which denotes the higher stage. I'o take the above 
 instance. Sokrates i)liis the differentia of Sokratity, that 
 is. Sokrates qua Sokrates, involves a formal element, over 
 and above his material basis, Athenian. The Athenian 
 again qua Athenian is a formal modification of ///a- material 
 basis, Greek, which as Athenian he presui)po8es. Once 
 more, the Greek qua Greek is a formal modification of 
 the material basis, Man ; as Greek he involves an element 
 of form additional to the human material (the common 
 humanity) of which he consists, &c., &c. The final terminus 
 a quo of the scale is thus pure undifferentiated matter. 
 
 We now turn to the third and fourth data in the Aris- 
 totelian ontology, the efficient and the tinal cause. Here 
 the element of determinate agency comes into play. The 
 first of these, the conditio sine qua non of the existence of a 
 thing, may be regarded as its indfrrinl cause; the second, 
 the end or purpose of its existence, its formal cause. In the 
 force or self-activity or actualisation (cvTcXcxaa) which is 
 part of the essence of realitij, tlic two elements of mover 
 and moved, the passive and the active are to be distin- 
 guished. The first is the formal, the second the material. 
 The one is the agent, the other tlie patient. But this 
 formative activity, or subordinate motive, itself i»resupposc8 
 an end or purpose which it is to accomi)lish, and this leads 
 us to the final cause or the ultimate principle of motion, 
 that which moves but is not moved —pure energy, l^ut 
 Aristotle does not deny substantiality to this pure energy. 
 On the contrary, just as matter per se is potentiality, 
 always becoming but never become, so this ultimate foinial 
 principle is its counterpart, actuality, eternal self-sub- 
 existence. Thus Aristotle finds in this teleological con- 
 ception of intelligent purpose the terminus ad quern of 
 the scale of 1)eing, whicli the notion of mere form, per se^ 
 could not give him. It is needless to remind tlie reader 
 that this vLKLvrjTov of Aristotle is the representative, in liis 
 system of the suprenni idea of Plato. It is not difficult to 
 see how the Neo-Platonie harmonists of a later time might, 
 with some show of reason, maintain the essential identity 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 71 
 
 of the systems of Aristotle and Plato when they found so 
 many cardinal features in common. 
 
 Aristotle is the first to distinctly apply the so-called 
 cosmological argument. As every individual object pre- 
 supposes a moving cause for all its changes, so the universe 
 itself presupposes an absolute first mover, a primal deter- 
 miner of its as } et undetermined matter. But Aristotle 
 soon leaves this mechanical theistic conception. This 
 principle {trp^Tov klvovv) must be essentially pure energy 
 and form, untrammelled by matter, pure actuality, in 
 which the shadow of i)otcntiality is not ; a conception 
 which, it need scarcely be said, is hard to reconcile with 
 Aristotle's assertions of the inseparability of matter and 
 form, or with liis bitter polemic against the Platonic 
 system of ideal ends, which is its prototype. The 
 ultimate self-thinking and active principle, or God of 
 Aristotle, is not to be conceived as the creator of the world 
 in time (like the demiurge of Plato), but rather as the 
 immanent actuality of the world, the eternally complete 
 ideal purpose to which the real is ever approximating, and 
 which is at the same time its ultimate motive principle.* 
 
 Nature, according to Aristotle, is the totality of material 
 and moving objects. Change, or motion, may be divided 
 into origination (change or motion from the relatively non- 
 existent to the relatively e.xistent) and destruction (change 
 or motion from the relatively existent to the relatively 
 non-existent), which is again divided into the species 
 quantitative, qualitative and spacial motion ; or increase 
 and decrease, change of quality and change of place. 
 The conditions of motion are place or space and time. 
 Place (tottos) is the bounding of the encompassing body. 
 Time is the measure or numerical aspect of motion or 
 change. Time is endless, but space bounded. The world 
 is eternal. The spheres in Avhieli the fixed stars inhere, 
 possess the most i)erfect of all motions— the circular. 
 The motions of the |)lanets are explained by the hypothesis 
 of immaterial essences or subordinate deities inhering in 
 them. The spherical earth is fixed in the centre of the 
 universe. The five elementary natural substances, ether, 
 fire, water, air and earth have respectively their determi- 
 
 • I miiy point out here how nearly identical is Aristotle's conception 
 with the Idea of liegel. 
 
72 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 nate places in tlie cosmic whole. Tlie place of the ether 
 is the celestial regions. Out of ether are formed the 
 spheres and celestial bodies. The otlier (traditional) four 
 element8 belong to the terrestrial regions, but are distin- 
 guished by their heaviness and lightness, heat and cold, 
 dryness and moisture, and are all found in various propor- 
 tions in all bodies. The matter of earth is continually 
 jjassing into higher and higher forms in the shape of a 
 ] >rogrt'Ssive scale (as it werej of living beings. Every 
 stage in this formal determination of course embraces the 
 whole of those below it, in addition to its own special and 
 distinctive character. The force or formative energy of 
 living beings in the widest sense, is, with Aristotle, 
 identical with their souls, or if/vxy- Thus the capacity or 
 soul of the plant is limited to nutrition and growth accord- 
 ing to a certain figure ; the animal possesses in addition to 
 this the capacities of feeling, desire, and locomotion ; the 
 man again unites with all these capacities that of reason 
 (i'ov<s)j the manifestation of which is partly theoretical 
 (scientific) and partly practical (moral;. The Keason is sepa- 
 rable into two elements or sides, the receptive, determined 
 and temporal, and tlie creative, determining and eternal. 
 Tlie first of these elements is the material, the second the 
 formal side of the Reason. The synthesis of these two ele- 
 ments, the natural and the divine, constitutes the human soul 
 or life of the man as man. The discussion of these subjects 
 will be found in Aristotle's Physics and in the De anima. 
 The goal of all human activity, the highest human 
 good, is happiness, wliich consists in the rational and 
 virtuous activity of the soul, while tliis activity has, as 
 Its natural completion, pleasure. It will be seen by this 
 that Aristotle does not posit, like Plato, an abstract ideal 
 Go( »d. Harmony or Pro|)ortion, as the olvject of Etliics. 
 but is satisfied with the highest attainal)le good to ^Man ; 
 that which all men implicitly or explicitly recognise as 
 such, liowever much they may differ as to tlio nature of 
 its content. But in so far as this goal ( liapi)iness) is human, 
 it must consist not merely in vegetating or living, l)ut in 
 rational activity, as suoli. In accordance with the animal 
 and rational nature of man, tlierc arise two classes of virtues ; 
 on the one side, the jiractieal virtues proper, i.e. such as 
 consist in the mastery of the Keason over the sensuous 
 
 ErocH III.] 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 73 
 
 impulses ; on the other side the dianoetic or logical virtues. 
 Aristotle shows that tlie true mean — that rational happi- 
 ness — consists in the art of bringing the /ormaZ or determin- 
 ing \6yo<s to bear on the material of impulses, passions and 
 desires, of which the merely natural man consists. The 
 capacity of doing this is not natural but human, inasmuch 
 as it inv(dves aotioii following upon reflection. 
 
 Aristotle is a pronounced upholder of the doctrine of free- 
 will, and polemicists in this character against bothSokrates 
 and Plato. In addition to the Platonic virtues of courage 
 and moderation, Aristotle enumerates liberality, magna- 
 nimity, love of honour, mildness, openness, &c., &c., and 
 these are not as witli Plato opposed to one only, but to 
 two extremes. Justice is treated separately in the fifth 
 book of tlie Ethics, as the foundation not only of all virtues, 
 but of all social life whatever, it is indeed regarded by 
 Aristotle as as much pertaining to the sphere of Politics 
 as of Etliics. In the sixth book Wisdom is proclaimed 
 identical with the highest happiness of man, being the 
 satisfaction of tlie highest within him, namely, the 
 vor?, or Keascm, though in practical life, prudence and 
 reflection are the more important, since they are concerned 
 with the singular. 
 
 The Nikomachdenn Ethics close with a chapter which 
 serves as a transition to the Politics, a science which 
 Aristotle regards merely as the continuation of Ethics. 
 The first book of the Politics deals with domestic 
 government, and aff<jrds some interesting glimpses into 
 the social life of ancient Greece. As the tribe is con- 
 stituted out of an aggregation of families, so the state 
 is constituted out of an aggregation of tribes. The 
 second Itook consists in a criticism of political theories 
 (Plato's among others), as well as of existing constitutions. 
 The seventh and eighth l>ooks are the most important, as 
 treating of the conditions of the greatest possible happiness 
 in a state, where personal and civic virtue have become 
 identical.* First, Aristotle places the natural conformation 
 
 * The iilon of " personal " virtue belonged to the new ethics of 
 inwarilncsa, of wliiclj Sokrutes wuh the most promintnt exponent, and 
 was foreign to the older ethics of the ancient world. In the Politics 
 Ariatotle endeavours to find common ground for them. 
 
74 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch III. 
 
 of the country, proximity to tlie sea ; neither too dense, nor 
 too sparse a population.* For the further conditions the 
 constitution of the state is responsible. Aristotle, while 
 diverging widely from the Flatonic-aristocratic state, is 
 nevertheless not favourable to the Greek democracies. 
 VV hile he would concede a large share of power to the middle 
 class, in other words the poorer freemen, which was as 
 far as the Greek conception of democracy extended, he 
 would at the same time have this power checked by the 
 existence of a sovereign. 
 
 The Art-philosophy or ^Esthetic of Aristotle is chiefly 
 contained in the Poetics, a work of which only frag- 
 ments remain; but expressions on the subject are to be 
 found in the Metaphysics, the Ehetoric, and elsewhere. 
 Art is distinguished from virtue as creation from action. 
 It is further distinguished from the creative activity of 
 nature, which it most nearly resembles, by the fact that the 
 artist realises his end in another body ; thus the sculptor 
 fashions brass into a statue, while the plant forms itself, 
 and even the man creates himself, viz., his own character. 
 In spite of this, the analogy is great between natural and 
 artistic action. Art is of two kinds ; it may either be 
 designed to complete what nature has begun, as to make 
 man healthy, to protect liim from Aveather, to prepare 
 food for his sustenance, to enable him to live in com- 
 munity, &c., such as, the arts of medicine, of architec- 
 ture, of cookery, of government, or, in other words, liave 
 utility for its end. Or art may have for its end, like 
 nature, to create a world of its own, wlii( li since it cannot 
 be a real world must be a world of ai4)earaiicr. Art in 
 this sense, i.e. art whose cnil is its own creation, is termtid 
 by Aristotle imitative art, which clearly jiroves tliat the 
 distinction l)etween imitation and originality in the fine 
 arts so familiar to us, was not present to the mind of the 
 Stagirite. The sense in which the word iiuitatinii 
 (^ifxrp-iKyj) is ujjed, is not quite clear, since Aristotle ix- 
 presslv cites music, the one we should regard as the least 
 so, as the most imitative of the arts. Iho content of art 
 (imitative) is the beautiful. Art cxliibitinii: the higliest 
 
 * It must Im) remembered tliiit Aristt file's ref» reiict h tu pnjmhition 
 only iacludu the minority of actual iiilud »itanls, i.e. the free popukition. 
 
 Epoch III.] 
 
 AEISTOTLE. 
 
 75 
 
 end as accomplished before us, occupies a midway position 
 between theory and i)iactice, between science and life; 
 inasmuch as the object of art is the particular in the 
 universal. In art individual things are idealised, not pre- 
 sented either in concreto merely, as in ordinary reality, nor 
 in ahstrado merely, as in science. 
 
 It remains for us, before leaving Aristotle, to give a brief 
 sketch of his Organon, or theory of formal logic, which we 
 need scarcely remind the reader contains in all essentials 
 the completed science of the laws of formal thinking. 
 Logic, or Analytics and Dialectics, was to Aristotle merely 
 the propoedeutic to philosophy, and not, as with Plato, the 
 essence of philosophy itself. The classes of concepts, and 
 of propositions, answer to the formal side of reality. The 
 most universal of existence-forms are substance, quantity, 
 quality, relation, place, time, situation, possession, activity, 
 passivity.* The various general propositions respectir.g 
 the real which are furnished by these concept-forms, 
 Aristotle terms categories. The concept is part of 
 the essence of the real object. The conclusion, i.e. the 
 deduction of one judgment from another, is divided into 
 the syllogism which deduces the particular and singular 
 from the universal, and induction, which consists in the 
 assimilation of singulars and particulars, and the con- 
 struction out of them of universals. In the latter of 
 course we leave the region of the purely formal; the 
 factors of observation and experiment coming into play. 
 The foremost logical principles to Aristotle are " the laws 
 of thought," viz., identity, contradiction and excluded 
 middle; which are immediately cognised through Reason. 
 But more easily (and hence earlier) attainable by the 
 human mind are the simple notions and facts directly 
 conveyed through percejjtions— the co-ordination and 
 assimilation of Avhich constitute induction— although in 
 themselves the principles of thought winch this process 
 presupposes are prior. 
 
 The above brief and necessarily imperfect sketch will 
 sui!ice to show the enormous range as well as depth of 
 
 * We need scarcely observe that, as haa been often pointed out, this 
 list ia at once defective and redundant. 
 
76 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IIL 
 
 Aristotle's writings. We can scarcely wonder at the 
 medieval schoolmen c< )iiferring upon liim the title of the 
 philosopher, so far does his work at once in character and 
 amount surpass that of his |)redecessors. For even Plato, 
 owing partly to the strong influence of the Socratic njethod, 
 and partly to his natural temperament, left no works which 
 could have served for ages as staiidjird treatises on the 
 various departments of jdiilosophy, fis did Aristotle's Logical 
 treatises, his Ethics and his Psychology. 
 
 The biblio{,'raphy of Plato and Aristotle would fill volumes. The 
 names of some of tlie best work a on Plato have already been given 
 (see aljove, p. 55). For Aristotle's Metaphyaie, Schwegler's Comment 
 tary is the best book. For tlitt Lo2^icaI Treatises, Praotl's Gcsrhiehfe 
 der Logik is useful. On the sy^tem j;enerally, may bo consulted Franz 
 Bitise's Die Fhilosophie des Ari4otdes (Vol. II. Berlin, I835-I842); also 
 Zeller's Arisfoteles und die alte I'eripafetifcer. 
 
 The De Animn has been excellently translated, with scholarly 
 ;r*'<.duction and notes, by Professor Edwin Wallace (Clarendon 
 Press.) 
 
 Epoch IV.] THE ACADEMICS AND PEEIPATETICS. 77 
 
 FOUETH EPOCH. 
 
 ACADEMICS AND PERIPATETICS, STOICS, EPICUREANS 
 
 AND SCEPTICS. 
 
 The Academics and Peripatetics. 
 
 This fourth epoch of Greek thought is characterised by 
 the elaboration and combination in various directions of 
 tlie ideas contained in previous systems. Among the 
 Academics, or Platonists, three periods or "academies" 
 are commonly distinguished, the Old Academy, the 
 Middle Academy, and the New Academy. To the first or 
 ortliodox academy belongs Speusippus, the nephew and 
 immediate successor of Plato (347-339), who accen- 
 tuated the pantheistic tendencies of his uncle ; Xenocrates 
 of dialcedon, who next filled the chair, and who 
 developed tlie Pythagorean side of the Platonic philo- 
 B()i)hy ; lleraklides of Pontus, the astronomer Philippus, 
 Ilermodorus, &c., &c. The middle academy was founded 
 by Arkesilaus (341-315), who took his stand on the 
 sceptical side of Plato, as exhibited in the Parmenides. 
 This soon drifted into the third school or New Academy, 
 the nominal founder of wliich is Karneades, and where the 
 sceptical direction was still further followed out with the 
 assistance of the theories of Pyrrho. In Philo of Larissa, 
 and his pupil Antiochus of Askalon, and their successors, 
 who, returning to a dogmatic standpoint, endeavoured to 
 read a Stoical tendency into the writings of Plato, some 
 historians have distinguished a fourth and even a fifth 
 
 Academy. , ,. • i n 
 
 The Peripatetics, as the successors and disciples of 
 Aristotle were called (Theophrastus, Gadanus, Aristoxe- 
 nus, Dikearchus, &c., &c.,) directed their attention chiefly 
 to ])liysical research, and to popularising the etliicjd 
 doctrines of their master, though attempts to modify the 
 main Aristotelian positions in a naturalistic sense were not 
 wanting. V\ ith tlie later leaders of the school, however, 
 all Bucii modifications were abandoned, the text of 
 
78 
 
 GREEK rillLOSOPHT. 
 
 [Epoch IY. 
 
 Aristotle being regarded as the final arbiter, and the 
 elucidation of its meaning the most important, if not the 
 fiole end of the teacher's fnnction. Hence the later Peri- 
 patetics are chiefly noteworthy as textual critics and 
 grammarians. Probably the most remarkable of the suc- 
 cessors of Aristotle was Strato of Lampsacus (circa B.C. 
 288), whose teaching seems to have made for a material- 
 istic monism, in opposition alike to the spiritualistic 
 elements in Aristotle's si>eciilation, and to the mechanical 
 and pluralistic materialism of the Atomist schools. 
 
 The Stoics. 
 
 The Stoics, notwithstanding the widely spread influence 
 their school exercised in later times, cannot be regarded as 
 having contril»uted any essentially new factor to the 
 history of philosophy. Their ethical doctrine has its 
 prototype in Cynicism, their physics in Herakleitanism, 
 and their logic in Aristotelian ism. The founder of the 
 Stoic school was the Cypriot Zeno, who was born at Kitium, 
 B.C. 340. After a lengthened study of the post-Sokratic 
 literature he came to Athens, where he was instructed 
 Biiccessively by the Cynic Krates, the Megaric Stilpo, and 
 the Academic Polemon. 
 
 In opposition to Plato, Aristotle, and even to Sokrates, but 
 in full accordance with the spirit of the Cynical teaching, 
 Zenoso far subordinated the tlieoretical to the practical, that, 
 not content with defining philosophy as the art of virtue, 
 he sought the ground of its division into Logic, Physics, and 
 Ethics (which he was the first to definitely formulate), in 
 the fact of there Ixjing logical, physical, and ethical virtues ! 
 The Logic of the Stoics falls into Rhetor ic or the art of 
 oratory, and Dialectic or the art of disputation. It is the 
 auxiliaiy of Ethics, inasmuch as it serves to enable us to 
 guard against errors. The soul, which is primarily a tabula 
 rasa, receives impressions either from external objects or 
 from changes in its own state, through the repetition and 
 remembrance of which an experience is produced. Hence 
 the Stoics maintained, in opposition to Plato, that univer- 
 eals existed merely in the mind, and that only singulars 
 were real. The test of truth was the conviction accom- 
 
 I 
 
 Epoch IV.] 
 
 THE STOICS, 
 
 79 
 
 panying an experience, whose declaration, when unshak- 
 able, must be regarded as final. A conviction or belief 
 of which it is absolutily impossible for us to free our- 
 selves, is true. This criterion was called by the Stoics, 
 the op^o9 Xoyos, and is identical with the' modem " ne- 
 cessity of thought." As a natural consequence of this 
 doctrine, follow the appeals to the universal consent of 
 mankind, which pervade the Stoic writers. Science is 
 merely the reduction to form and precision of the truths 
 guaranteed by unshakable conviction. Into the logic 
 proper of the Stoics it is unnecessary to enter, since 
 it differs only in a few points of detail from that of 
 Aristotle. 
 
 The Stoic Physics, based as they are on the Herakleitan 
 theorj^ have as their cardinal princii>le the doctrine of a 
 universal animating fiery ether, called variously Zeus, 
 Soul (TTvct'/xa), Reason (Xoyos), and Intelligence (vovq). 
 The contention that the ultimate form of all reality was 
 spacial and material, was extended to the mind and its 
 states. The distinction was made, however, between the 
 finer and more subtle, the active and formative, matter, 
 which was identified with the divine ether or the world- 
 soul, and with the souls of men and gods, and the coarser 
 merely i>assive matter of which bodies consist. As with 
 Herakleitos, from the central creative fire arose all things, 
 and into it they must return. The process seems to have 
 been conceived as one of condensation and rarefaction. 
 The opposition of heat and cold also plays a part in the 
 Stoic Physics, the former as active, the latter as passive. 
 The human soul as a fragment of the universal world- 
 soul is of course of the nature of fire. The Aristotelian 
 doctrine of the evolution of form and matter, seems to have 
 been interwoven with the physical theory of the Stoics. 
 Their Pantheism led up to their characteristic fatalism, 
 and to a theory of magical practices, deduced from the 
 kinship, through the all-pervasive world-soul of every 
 portion of the universe. 
 
 The celebrated ethical formula of the Stoics, that man 
 is to live in conformity with nature, is attributed to Zeno. 
 By Chrysippus it was "limited to living in conformity with 
 one's own nature, and finally assumed the form of living 
 
80 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch rv 
 
 in conformity with the divine Reason. In their interpre- 
 tation of this doctrine at times they aiiproached the 
 asceticism of the Cynics, though its crudity was mitigated 
 by the high place they gave to culture and meditation. 
 He is the " wise man," for whom all outward things are 
 superfluous, " who has that within " which renders him 
 independent of all that in its nature lies outside his 
 control; who has no desires, and kinnvs no envy. 
 
 Kleanthes followed Zeno as leader of the school, but 
 does not appear to have contributed anything new to its 
 doctrines. Chrj'sippns, his successor, on the contrary, 
 was a voluminous writer, and welded the system into a 
 coherent whole, besides introducing sundry important 
 modifications. Diogenes, a disciple of the last-named, 
 carried Stoicism to Kome, where it spread rapidly. Tlie 
 names of Posidonius, the preceptor of Cicero, of the 
 emperor Marcus Aurelius, and of the slave Epictetus, will 
 at once occur to the reader as instances of Stoics cf the 
 Eoman i)eriod. 
 
 That such a thing of " shreds and patches " iis Stoicism 
 should ever have attained tlie importance it subsequently 
 did, would be inexplicable were we to regard it as a pliilu- 
 sojdiical system alone, and forget that it was primarily 
 an ethical movement, and that its etldcs partook of that 
 individualist and introspective character, which was yearly 
 growing upon the world, and which culminated in Chris- 
 tianity. Stoicism was no mere system of physics, or logic, 
 or ontology, like Platonism or Aristotelianism, with no 
 very specicil, or at least, a remote practical l)earing, but 
 a doctrine which held out to men a siMJCulativo yet 
 practical resting-place from the turmoil of a public life in 
 which the true .public spirit was dying out. 
 
 The Epicureans. 
 
 The founder of the rival system to Stoicism — Epicure- 
 anism — wMs born in Samoa B.C. 342, and was thus the 
 contemporary of Zeno. He came to Athens in his 
 eighteentli year, but not till he was thirty-one years of 
 age did he comiiieneo lecturing at Athens. Notwith- 
 standing his protestations of originality, there can be 
 
 Epoch IV.] 
 
 THE EPICUKEANS. 
 
 81 
 
 no doubt that for the entire framework of his system, 
 Epicurus was indebted to the Atomists and the Cyrenaics. 
 As with the Stoics, philosophy was to Epicurus simply 
 the introduction to the art of living. In the attainment 
 of a happy life, the first requisite was the absence of 
 superstitious fears, and to this end philosophy led up. 
 The Kanonik of the Epicureans, as they preferred to 
 term their logic, included, as with the Stoics, a theory of 
 perception. From the senses all knowledge originally 
 proceeds. Knowledge derived from the senses, without 
 the admixture of any judgment, is free from error. It is 
 in the employment of the understanding that error arises. 
 Repeated sense impressions leave in us the expectancy of 
 their future recurrence. (It is noteworthy how Epicurus 
 anticipated some of the conclusions of modern Empiricism.) 
 That which coincides with "feelings," and with these 
 anticipations, is certain and true. On questions of logic 
 proper, Epicurus seems to have had little to say. 
 
 In Physics, he accepted the Atomism of Domokritos 
 with some slight modifications. The supernatural, as 
 embodied in the popular religion, he relegated to the 
 realm of superstition. His well-known assertion to the 
 efiect that the gods, in their state of perfect happiness, 
 abstained from all interference with the afiairs of this 
 world, was only a veiled way of putting the agnostic 
 position. The Epicureans naturally ridiculed the " Provi- 
 dence " and fatalistic Pantheism of the Stoics. The popular 
 myths they seem to have explained in an Euhemeristic 
 fashion. Man, like every other being, is an aggregate of 
 ^toms, the soul consisting of finer, the body of coarser 
 atoms. In either case dissolution is equivalent to 
 destruction. " When death is, we are not," said Epicurus ; 
 " when death is not, we are ; " whence the conclusion that 
 death in no way concerns us. 
 
 Epicurus reduces all anections to those of pleasure and 
 pain. The thesis that pleasure is the sole " good," is the 
 basis of the Epicurean Ethics. Virtue only possesses value 
 in so far as it leads to pleasure, but by this is not to be 
 understood (as with the Cyrenaics) immediate pleasure, 
 but the greatest sum of pleasure in the long run, or 
 which is the same thing negatively stated, the least sum 
 
 o 
 
82 
 
 GREE!^ rillLOSOPnY. 
 
 [Epoch IV. 
 
 of pain in tlie long run. Tliis conBideration may some- 
 times lead us to a course of conduct entailing an amoimt 
 of immediate pain, when this is the alternative to a greater 
 amount of future pain ; and in the same way a present 
 pleasure may be foregone, for the sake of greater i.leasure 
 m the luture. It is in the determination of the question 
 as to what is the greater and what the lesser pleasure or 
 pain, that the idiilosopher shows his superiority to the 
 common man. Epicurus himself seems to have regarded 
 "moderation,"(coupled with as much as possibleot "apathy 
 (clTra^cia), as the key to the solution of this question. 
 
 Among the immediate followers of Epicurus may he 
 cited Metrodorus, his favourite pupil, wliom he outlived, 
 Hermarchus of Mitylene, who succeeded liim as teacher, 
 Polystratus, Apollodorus (the reputed author of four 
 hundred works), &c., &c. Like the Stoic, the Epicurean 
 sect attained considerable proportions m Rome, where it 
 was introduced by Zeno of Sidon, a inipil ot Ai)ollodorus. 
 The celel)rated poem of Titus Lucretius Cams, " De 
 Natura Eerum," contains the most complete summary 
 that has come do\^Ti to us of the Epicurean doctrine, at 
 least, in its Romanised form. As regards this last point 
 it must be remembered, firstly, that the great successes of 
 both Stoicism and Epicureanism were attained after the 
 power and influence of Rome and Roman thought were 
 already established to all intents and purposes throughout 
 the civilised worl.l ; and, secondly, that all our informa- 
 tion resi>ecting them, with tlie exception of a few frag- 
 ments, comes directly or indirectly through a Roman 
 
 medium. i i/ 
 
 In Epicureanism we liave a more coherent and selt- 
 contained doctrine than in Stoicism. It is a doctrine, 
 moreover, enilaacing some imi)ortant truths. But it is in 
 no sense original. It established no new truth in philo- 
 sopliy, nor even gave rise to suggestions, by puttmg old 
 pro! dems in new lights. Wliile Zeno "adapted "in a 
 Blii.Bliod fashion the physical side of the philosophy ot 
 Herakleitos ; Epicurus " adapted," in a manner perliaps 
 not quite so slipshod, but still rather lor the worse tlian 
 the better, the physical doctrine of Demokritos. For 
 their Ethics the one went back to the Cynics, the other to 
 
 Epoch IV.] 
 
 THE SCEPTICS. 
 
 83 
 
 the Cyrenaics. The only original point Epicurus seems 
 to have made was tlie modification of the Hedonistic 
 doctrine of Aristippus, from the advocacy of the mere 
 immediate sense gratification to that of a calculation of the 
 greatest possiltle sum of happiness attainalde on the whole. 
 It has been justly remarked that botli Stoicism and 
 Epicureanism are rather ethical sects than philosophical 
 schools proper. The doctrines taught were put forward 
 as dogmas to be received and inculcated, rather than 
 souglit to be demonstrated as propositions to be heard at 
 the bar of reason. In this respect they show a distinct 
 tendency to revert to a pre-Sokratic standpoint, and as 
 such may be regarded as the first symptoms of the decline 
 of Greek thought in the direction of a reactionary dogma- 
 tism. This tendency was encountered by another con- 
 temporary school or sect, that of the Pyrrhonists, or 
 Sceptics. 
 
 The Sceitics. 
 
 The Sceptical school proper has as its founder Pyrrho, of 
 Elis (born fibout B.C. oGU). lie was originally a painter, 
 and is said to have followed the expedition of Alexander 
 the Great to India, wdiere he conversed with tlie Gymnoso- 
 phists. It is also stated that he studied under a disciple 
 of Stilpo the ^lagaric, and also of a follower of Demo- 
 kritos. Pynlid lift nothing in writing, confining him- 
 self to oral exposition. As a natural consequence, our 
 knowledge of his teaching is at once scanty and uncertain, 
 all that is really reliable being confined to two or three 
 propositions. 
 
 "He who would attain happiness, wdiich is the object 
 of human life," said Pyrrho, " must cunsider the three 
 following points : AMiat is the nature of things? AVhat 
 should be our attitude towards tlieni ? and What will 
 be the consequence of this attitude?" On the first 
 point there is nothing cT'rtain, inasniiicli as to every jiro- 
 position its negative can be opjtused with equal justice, 
 since neither feeling nor reason can either separately 
 or in combination furnish any safe criterion of truth. 
 From this it follows, as regards the second point, that the 
 course of wisdom is to maintidn an attitude of suspense, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 GREEK rillLOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IV. 
 
 and to make no assertion b concerning tilings. The answer 
 to every (|iiesti(»n should accordingly be "I assert no- 
 thing;" and instead of saying " it is so," one should rather 
 say " it seems so to me." This applies as much to morals 
 as to knowledge ; for just as there is no such tiling as an 
 absolute standard of truth valid for all, so there is no 
 such thing as an absolute standard of goodness, to which 
 universal ai»i)eal can be made. As to the third point, 
 namely, the consequence of the following of this advice, 
 Pyrrho maintained that through it, and through it alone, 
 that perfect calm and equanimity (dtra^cwi) could be 
 acquired which was tlie ideal of the life of wisdom. In- 
 asmuch as the ordinary man is led by his feelings and the 
 a})i)earances furnished by his senses, it is the business of 
 the philosopher, so to speak, to strip oft' the " man." In 
 practical life, however, Pyrrho advised an adhesion to 
 prevalent usage. The doctrines of Pyrrho rapidly acquired 
 numerous followers, especially among the votaries of the 
 Asklepian art, but the school became subsequently obscured 
 by the success of Karneades and the " new academy," 
 which latter was, nevertheless, considerably influenced by 
 it. In ancient Greece, as in modem Europe, the advantages 
 of a subsidised cliair, and an " established position " could 
 not but make themselves felt. But the fame of Pyrrho 
 was vindicated at a later period after the " academy " had 
 lapsed into a reactionary dogmatism, when his system 
 was revived with considerable success. 
 
 In Scepticism philosophy is directed to the same aim as 
 in Stoicism and Epicureanism, and we may add there is 
 the same want of originality. The positions of Pyrrho, 
 as of Arkeeilaus and Karneades, had all of them been 
 forestalled by the Sophists. *' Scepticism " was but a Neo- 
 Sophism. The ajyparcntly unconscious resuscitation of 
 pre-Sokratic doctrines is as chanicteristie of this period 
 as their conscious and acknowledged rehabilitation is of 
 the succeeding period, in which* notwithstanding, new 
 elements are introduced, in the shape of Eoman and 
 oriental influences. 
 
 On tliis jieriod generally, Zeller's Stoics, Epicureans, and 
 Sceptics, may be consulted. For Epicureanism especially, 
 see Lange's History of Materialism. 
 
 Epoch V.] THE ROMAN AND ANTIQUARIAN PERIOD. 85 
 
 FIFTH EPOCH. 
 
 THE ROMAN AND ANTIQUARIAN PERIOD. 
 
 The stagnation of thought visible in the previous period, 
 that of the partitioning of the empire of Alexander and 
 the formation of dynasties by his generals, gave way to a 
 steady retrograde current when the victorious Roman 
 legions had finally disposed of the last vestiges of Greek 
 independence. The Greek grammarians and lecturers 
 now occupied themselves with translating Greek thought 
 into the Latin tongue, and attracted large audiences by 
 their exposition of its doctrines. But philosophy was 
 becoming emphatically a trade— a profitable profession — 
 owing to the now markets opened for it. At the same 
 time all that was required of the philosopher was the 
 statement of already existing systems. Wlien the craving 
 for novelty was felt, there were the old pre-Sokratic 
 systems to go back to ; and finally there was the ingenious 
 patchwork of Syncretism, the attempted assimilation of 
 doctrines derived from various systems, to be elal)orated. 
 New developments of thought seemed out of the question. 
 It was enough to show the authority of Plato, Aristotle, 
 Zeno, Epicurus, and to interpret, annotate and comment 
 on their written utterances. The three characteristics 
 of this emphatically doctrinaire period, were (1) the 
 establishment of the four cliief schools as the recognised 
 philosophicial systems; (2) the resuscitation in their 
 original form and as systems, of older doctrines supposed 
 to have been long sii]-* rscded; and (3) the harmonisation 
 of various schools aftected by the Syncretists. liitter 
 observes ('Geschichto der Philosophie,' vol. iv. p. 35;, 
 " Although the leading role was still played by the four 
 sects, which had, prior to this, attained the greatest 
 importance, namely, the Academics, Peripatetics, Stoics, 
 and Ei»icureans, the philosophy of Herakleitos, of the 
 Pythagoreans, of the Cynics and of the Sceptics came once 
 more into prominence. Of these the two last are the most 
 noteworthy, inasmuch as the renewal of the Herakleitan 
 
8Q 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch V. 
 
 doctrine was very isolated, and the Neo-Pythagorean 
 owed its significance to the mystical tendencies of the 
 Greek-Oriental })hilosophy." In the present period the 
 theatre of the history of philosophy is removed from 
 Athens and Greece generally to Alexandria and Rome. 
 The liistory of Greek thought proper, closes with the 
 schools of the generation succeeding Alexander. 
 
 The interest tlie Romans took in philosojfliy was almost 
 exclusively ethical, and hence it was the etiiical side of 
 the Greek philosophies to wliich they mainly turned. 
 Epicureanism, Stoicism, Scepticism, and Cynicism proved 
 severally attractive to the various orders of Koman 
 temi)erament. llie Academics having somewhat reached 
 from tlie Sce|>tical tendencies of the New Academy, it was 
 left for jl']nesiilcinus of Gnossus, who, it ai>pearM, taught in 
 Alexandria in the first century after Christ, tu revive the 
 Scepticism of Pyrrlio, though its arguments he used rather 
 to establish the Herakleitan jiosition than in the sense of 
 their author, ^fjiiesidemus seems to have left a school of 
 Bonie vitality behind him, whicli tended to revert more 
 and mt>re to tlie Fyrrlionistic position. 
 
 The pliysieian Sextns Empiricus (about A.c. 200), who 
 was its must prominent member, is justly celebrated for 
 his remarkal)le work entitled ' Pyrrhonistic Hy])otypo8e8,' 
 also that directed " against the mathematicians," in wliich 
 the Emi>iri(al-sceptical position is put witli remarkable 
 clearness and force. The style of Sextus Empiricus has a 
 terseness not usual with ancient writers. Among the 
 other members of the Emjiii-ical or Sceptical school may be 
 mentioned Agrii>pa Saturninus (wlio must not be con- 
 founded witli tlie Gnostic uf that name), the pupil of 
 Sextus, and Fjivorinus, the preceptor of Aulus Gellius. 
 These later Scei.tics put forward the following five argu- 
 ments in favour of suspense: (1) The discrepancy of 
 opinions concerning the same "Ijects ; (2) The ].r( )gression 
 or regression ad iujiniium of the series of pr.H.fs re(iuired 
 to establish any given proposition ; (3) The rehttivity of all 
 things, since everytliing appears differently in diflereiit 
 connections and to diflerent persons; (4) T'he arbitrary 
 nature of fundamental propositions, the dogmatist in 
 order to escape the regressus to infinity of demonstrations, 
 
 Epoch V.] THE ROMAN AND ANTIQUARIAN PERIOD. 87 
 
 seeking refuge in certain ultimate propositions which he 
 assumes without demonstration ; and (6) The dialleley 
 namely, that tliat upon which the proof rests, itself requires 
 proof. This is obviously only a restatement in another 
 form of the second of the five arguments. Sextus brings 
 forward a number of propositions to prove that all 
 demonstration is in its nature tainted with fallacy, inas- 
 much as it must necessarily move in a circle ; he also 
 anticipates Hume in his attacks on causality. Tlie then 
 current theological conceptions, as well as the theories of 
 the Stoics on Providence, are also severely handled by him. 
 Of the earlier Syncretist schools, that of the Sextians, 
 which flourished in the early part of the first century in 
 Eome, and liad eonsiderable influence, seems to have been 
 a, compound of l*ythagoreanism. Cynicism, and Stoicism. 
 But little is known of the tenets of this school, and next 
 to nothing of its founder, Sextius. Seneca asserts it to 
 have collapsed very soon, in spite of its brilliant opening. 
 Tlie most celel^rated, as the most voluminous Latin 
 writer on philosophical subjects (who belongs, however, 
 to a somewhat earlier date) was Marcus Tullius Cicero 
 (B.C. 106 to 43), who may be described as a disciple of the 
 New Academy tinged with eclecticism. His works con- 
 tain a mine of information concerning the philosophical 
 views current in his time as well as the manners and 
 customs of the last age of the Republic. In tlie ' De 
 Divinatione,' Cicero, in characterising the various objects 
 of his owni works, states that the ' Hortensius ' was 
 designed to exliort to the study of philosophy ; the 
 'Academics " to slK.w'the most logical and elegant manner 
 of philosophising, namely, that of the New Acadeniy ; the 
 ' De Finil>us ' to investigate the foundation of ethics ; and 
 the ' Quastiones Tusculame,' which may be considered a 
 sequel thereto, to treat of the conditions of happiness ; the 
 *De datura Deorum,' ' De Divinatione,' and ' De Fato,' 
 which deal witli the attitude of philus( .jihy towards the 
 popular beliefs, being designed to conclude the series. 
 Am<»ng the Koman E[)icureans Lucretius towers supreme, 
 both as regards literary merit and pliilosophical insight. 
 Stoieism, oil the other "hand, can boast several exponents 
 of the first rank. Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius 
 
88 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch V. 
 
 Epoch VL] 
 
 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 aU professed the Stoic creed, and all left important literary 
 monuments behind them. 
 
 It would be useless to enumerate the obscure gram- 
 marians who attempted to resuscitate the various older 
 systems. As a transition to our next epoch, in which the 
 intellect of the classical world makes one gigantic effort 
 to acquire new life and vigour Ijy the absorption of Ori- 
 ental thought, we may briefly allude to the Neo-Pythago* 
 rean school, which arose in the first century before Christ, 
 its founder being, according to Cicero, one Nigidius 
 Figulus. Sextus Clodius, the preceptor of Mark Anthony, 
 apparently belonged to this school. Its most celebrated 
 representative was, however, the celebrated Apollonius of 
 Tyana, who imitated the life of Pythagoras, and achieved 
 enormous reputation for miracle-working. 
 
 Men's faces were now definitely set towards the past. 
 It was becoming an undi8|)uted axiom with all thinkers 
 that the whole of wisdom, the key to the great secret, was 
 to be found in the literature and oracles of past ages ; the 
 task of the philosopher was henceforward to seek it out, 
 to pierce through the language in which it was hidden 
 and the ceremonies which were supposed to shadow it 
 forth. In a word, it was a kind of philosophical alchemy 
 which was practised, the aim of the philosopher being to 
 transmute the baser elements in all systems, creeds, and 
 formulas into the pur© ore of esoteric truth. 
 
 1^ 
 ft, 
 
 ■1|ti 
 
 
 
 ) 
 
 89 
 
 SIXTH EPOCH. 
 
 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 This last epoch of ancient philosophy is characterised by 
 the fusion of Greek and Oriental thought. Its seat was 
 Alexandria, the meeting- place of Europe and Asia. 
 Founded by the great conqueror who had broken down 
 the barriers l)etween the European and Oriental worlds, 
 had thrown open the mysteries of Egypt, Syria, Persia, 
 and India, it had by the Christian era become the second 
 city of the world. Traders of all nations met in its busy 
 streets and markets ; scholars of all nations in its library 
 and lecture lialls. Alexandria was the emporium for the 
 exchange of goods between East and West, and not less 
 for tlie interchange of ideas between East and West. A 
 crowd of grammarians, philosophers, and men of learned 
 leisure thronged the city of the Delta about the Christian 
 era, all of tliem affected more or less in their hal)its of 
 thought Ity the cosmopolitan atmosphere around them ; 
 some finding in the older literatures, newly opened up to 
 them, anticipations of Pythagorean tenets, others dis- 
 covering that the wisdom of the East had been revealed 
 to the Greeks in the person of Plato, others again in 
 Her^kleitos 
 
 Amid these thinkers and writers was a Jew named Philo, 
 one of the considerable colony which the tolerance of the 
 Ptolemies had induced to leave their own land and take 
 up their residence in lower Egypt. Philo, of Avhose life 
 we know little, was the leading representative of a school 
 of thought ]i)revalent among the learned Jews of this 
 col(.ii\-, wliich sought to combine Judaistic theology with 
 Platonic philosophy. The writings of Philo have been 
 transmitted intact, and are of considerable interest in 
 throwing light on the thought of the period. The ten- 
 dency of Oriential speculation is seen to l)e just as much to 
 absorl) tlie Greek as the tendency of Greek tliought was to 
 absorb tlie Oriental. Thus in the non-canonical, or so-called 
 apocryphal books of the Old Testament, there are unmis- 
 
I 
 
 90 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch VI. 
 
 ErocH VI.] 
 
 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 91 
 
 takable indications of this tendency ; indeed a similar 
 leaning is discoverable even in the later canonical books 
 themselves. There was a growing anxiety, t(X), among 
 the Jews to show that all Greek wisdom was implicitly 
 contained in their own Hebrew writings. The llierapeutae 
 absorbed much of the Pythagorean doctrine. The Essenes 
 were also, in all probability, strongly leavened with 
 Hellenism. Perhaps one of the . most remarkable phe- 
 nomena of this time is the appearance of pseudo-works 
 by semi-mythical personages purporting to be of pn^digioua 
 antiquity. Of this nature are the writings attributed to 
 the ancient prophet, priest, and king, Hermes Trismegistos. 
 
 In l*hilo himself we find the tendency of the epoch con- 
 centrated, and in him we have the germ of tlie system 
 known as Neo-Platonism, winch i)layed so momentous a 
 part in the final struggle of the old I*agan civilisation with 
 Christianity. According to Philo the senses and reason 
 are alike untrustworthy ; the higliest truth ultimately rests 
 on an internal illumination or rovelation, in respect of which 
 the human reiison is jtassive. " God " is absolute being, 
 in whom there is neither quality, quantity, nor relatio^. 
 " God " is not the creator of matter, but is removed from it 
 by the Xoyos yci/iKwrttro? which is equivalent to the 
 supreme idea of Plato and the prime mover of Aristotle, 
 and which may l>c regarded as containing imidicitly the 
 sum total of all the forms or ideas of the real world. Tlio 
 relation of the Logos, or supreme idea, to the inconceivable 
 " God," or " One," is that < »f emanation, just as tlie material 
 world is in its turn an emanation from the Logos. The 
 world is often sin^ken of by Philo in similar language to 
 that of Plato as the "only begotten son of God." But in 
 Philo everything is persoiiified and l)rought into connection 
 with the J udaic tlieology and angeloltjgy of his time. The 
 world he conceived as actually created liy inferior beings 
 — angels and demons— whieli maj' bo taken as answering 
 to personified ideas or elass-names. IMiilo illustrates 
 his doctrine l)y tlie metaphor of rays of light s|»reading 
 from an effufgent centre, and decreasing in brilliancy 
 as they reach the circumference. 
 
 The characteristic of tlie scht^l of wliieli Pliilo may 1)6 
 considered as the forerunner, and which was the last effort 
 
 of ancient thought, lay in the fact that in it human 
 reason fell into the background as insufficient to the 
 attainment of the highest truth. The " dialectic," which 
 for Plato was the great and only highway to supreme 
 wisdom, l)ecame sulx.rdinate with the Neo-Plat( mists to the 
 passive " contemplation " which to them was alone adapted 
 lor the contemplation of the divine. The seience of the 
 Greek world had to yield to the mysticism of Asia. This 
 transformation of philosophy into theosophy, is the key- 
 note of the Avhole Neo-Platonic movement ; in some of its 
 rei)resentatives it may l)e more pronounced, in others more 
 veiled, but it is ahvays present. Neo-I^latonism claimed 
 to be not oidy tlie reconciler of philosophical systems, but 
 of tlie divers*' religious cults of the ancient world. It took 
 all pliiloso]>liies and all religions under its wing. It 
 remains to trace V»riefly the career of this remarkable and 
 unique religio-philosophic movement, which not only 
 furnishes the material for the concluding chapter in the 
 history of the ancient world, butl>y leaving its impress on 
 its great rival and antagonist, Christianity, has indirectly 
 influenced the speculative thought of the ages wliicli have 
 succeeded. As we have already seen, ever since Greek 
 philoso]diy ceased to be si)eculatively productive in the 
 generati<»n succeeding Alexander the Great, and began to 
 confine itself to reproducing and piecing together older 
 doctrines, a change came alike over the object of philosophy 
 and the object of life. Knowledge of tliu great world- 
 secret was iio longer sought after for its own sake, but as 
 a guide to life. It was no longer the welfare of the city, 
 or commonwealth, that concerned the jdiilosopher, but his 
 own indivitlual welf ire. 
 
 It is true Sokrates was, so far as philosophy was con- 
 cerned, tlie father of iiitrospecti<m and individualism, but 
 the tiino of its triumph had not yet como. His great 
 successors, Plato and Aristotle, found no perfect virtue 
 and no perfect life save in the community. The end of 
 all virtue was still with them, tlie welfare of the "city." 
 The individual Ity himself was nothing Ijut an element in 
 the whole. Such was the original view of all ancient 
 peoples, and not least of the (Greeks. The beliefs and cere- 
 monials of the ancient religions all tended to this concep- 
 

 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [ErocH VL 
 
 tion of life. But as it declined, the antithetic conception 
 of the import of the individual qua individual, grew. The 
 conflict of Sokrates with the Athenians which resulted in 
 his condemnation and death, may be viewed as the first 
 episode in the stru»i:gle of the new individualist ethics with 
 the ancient social etliics. In philosophy proper, the success 
 of the Stoic and Epicurean schools may be ' taken as 
 indicating the beginning of its supremacy. The con- 
 solidation of the Koman empire, and the extinction of the 
 free states of Antiquity, deprived men of even the interest 
 they had left in public life, and threw them more than 
 ever back upon themselves. Soon after this, a movement 
 originating in Palestine, where these ethics of " inward- 
 ness " had attained their highest development, spread over 
 the empire, attracting men and women of all conditions in 
 life, in a manner ainl to an extent, none of the philoso- 
 phical sects could blue ever done. The whole history 
 of the struggle of Neo-I^latonism with Christianity, is the 
 history of an effort to reconcile tlio introspective move- 
 ment with the existent speculative basis; to satisfy the 
 new individualist cravings without the detinite break with 
 tradition which Christianity involved. As such, Neo- 
 Flatonism naturally liorrowed nmcli from the ethical side 
 of Christianity, Ijut not without furnishing Christianity 
 in return with a groundwork for its tlit'ology. 
 
 Keo-Platonism* practically dates from Philo, but during 
 the first and second centuries its development is obscure. 
 It is not till the beginning of the tliird century that we 
 are confronted with a definite jiersonality (if we except 
 the Syrian Numenius, who flourished at the time of tlie 
 Antonines) in Ammonius Saccas, who died in tlie year 243, 
 Ammonius, though the nominal founder of tlie system, 
 himself wrote nothing, and it is said, exacted a pledge of 
 secrecy from his disciples, which it is doubtful if any of 
 them kept. 
 
 Plotinus (born 205), his most famous pujiil and the 
 typical representative of Neo-Platonism, was, on the other 
 
 ♦ The term Neo-PIatouism, thouj:;:h its comiotutioii inay be iiniler- 
 itood by all etudenta, la too narrow to iii'licate the great syntlietio 
 movement of FhilosDitliiciil Paganism wbich occupied the tirat four 
 centuries of the Christian era. 
 
 Epoch VI.j 
 
 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 93 
 
 hand, a voluminous writer. The doctrine of Plotinus may 
 be briefly epitomised thus:— The highest truth, knowledge, 
 f or wisdom, is only to be apprehended by intuition, the 
 I higliest grade of which is identity with the known-— 
 wherein the distinction between being and knowing is 
 al)olished. The highest principle is absolute and uncon- 
 ditioned. The " One," the " Existent," the " first God," 
 are the various names which Plotinus employs to express 
 this primal fact, in which all things " live and move and 
 have their being," but which is nevertheless, itself out 
 of all direct relation to the real world. But how can 
 the real world be deduced from such a principle as this ? 
 Plotinus replies, by a process of emanation. From 
 the first principle, namely, is eternally and_ necessarily 
 generated a second, the content of which is less than 
 the first ; in other words, which is a weakening, a de- 
 terioration (so to speak), of its essence. This stage in 
 the degradation of the primal entity, is the vov<s or 
 intelligent principle, which has as its final aim and goal 
 the Absolute, whence it emanates. Whereas, of the first 
 principle none of the categories of reality could be pre- 
 dicated, the vol)?, or second principle, may be said to unite 
 within itself all contradictions, as the one and the many, 
 rest and motion, the act of thinking and the object 
 thought. The vo9s thus becomes the sum-total of all ideas 
 and general terms, from the highest to the lowest. The 
 third principle, or hypostasis (the term by which these 
 successive momenta of the emanation are commonly 
 described), is the «/^rx^, the universal principle of life and 
 motion, or the world-soul, which is in its turn a weaken- 
 ing, aninferiorcopy of the vov?, from which it immediately 
 * derives the degree of existence it possesses. As the mere 
 reflex and shadow of the rational principle, though it 
 acts and orders the world in accordance with reason, it 
 does so not by virtue of its own inherent intelligence, but 
 by that of the source whence it emanates. Hence it is, 
 that thought is embodied in all the processes of nature, 
 these processes simply indicating the presence of the ideas 
 which are planted by the voCs, and which the xpvxn 
 mechanically translates into sensible reality. Plotinus in 
 some places speaks of the world-soul as dual— i.e., of a 
 
94 
 
 GREEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch VI. 
 
 Epoch VI.] 
 
 NEO-PLATOXISM. 
 
 95 
 
 soul tending to matter, which he designates 4>v(n<s, and of 
 a soul teTiding to Reason, for which the term il/vxv is spe- 
 ciaHy res- rved. These three hypostases ; the 7rpa'rro9 0t6^ or 
 primal priiicii>le, the vovs (Reason) or secondary principle, 
 and the i//vx»i (W'orld-soul) or tertiary principle, consti- 
 tute the so-called Alexandrian trinity. It may bo viewed 
 as ((.nipoiinded of the "Good" of Plato, the "Reason" of 
 Aristotle, and the Zeus or universal life of Ilerakleitos 
 and the Stoics. This Neo- Platonic, ontohffical, trinity is 
 distinguished from the Christian, //<«>%/«//, triiiit\', l)yits 
 being essentially an immanent as opposed to a transcend- 
 ent concejjtion of the universe, its momenta being, not 
 persons but aspects, and more definitely by the notion 
 of necessary emanatmi as opposed to that of arbitrary 
 creation. The " ]\Iattcr" of Plotinus, which ho opposes to 
 *• God," was not c. ►rpoieal substance, for this, in so far as 
 it is real })ohscssi\s form, and in so far as it is iwformed, par- 
 takes of tlie nature of the voO?, but like the non-existent 
 sense-world of Plato, or the Trpwny vKy (first matter) of 
 Aristotle, it was a mere formless negation— the negation 
 of the rational— :is darkness is tlie negation of light. We 
 shall understand the root-idea of the whole Neo-Platonic 
 ethic, wlion we remember that it is essentially based on the 
 notion of <lisengaging the world-soul fi-om the non-exis- 
 tent element, tlie matter, on which it acts, and of which 
 activity the sense-world is the result. The stage of the 
 Reason is then reached, and lastly that of the Prima] One 
 itself. This ecstasy, or absorption in absolute unity 
 without dillercnee, motion, or change, was the aim of the 
 philosopher's life. 
 
 Plotinus was followed by his pupil Porphyry, who 
 represents the Roman Xeo-l*latonism, in wliich the 
 tendency to theosopliy and mysticism was less marked 
 than in tlie Syrian Neo-Platonism rej.rcsented by Jam- 
 blichos. l*oi-phyry wrote several works against Christi- 
 anity, which were subsequently burnt. The allegorisa- 
 tion of the rai;aii myths a n<l ceremonies occupied an ever 
 larger place in the teacliing of Keo-Platonism in 2)ro- 
 portion as the power of Christianity grew. From the end 
 of the third century all trace of the division of sects is 
 lost, every Pagan thinker succumbing to the prevailing 
 
 'I 
 
 '''rf 
 
 |JH| 
 
 eclecticism, and being classed as a Neo-Platonist. Com- 
 mentating on the works of Plato and Aristotle became 
 now the main occupation of the philosopher. 
 
 After the death of Ilypatia, which took place in the fifth 
 century, philosophy was driven from Alexandria, and 
 strangely enough its last place of refuge was Athens. It 
 was here that Proklos, the last eminent representative of 
 ancient philosophy, tauglit. Proklos was lx)rn a.c. 412, 
 at Byzantium. He studied under various teachers, and 
 early devoted himself to Plato. In I*roklos the religious 
 side of Neo-Platonism culminated. He had himself been 
 initiated into every Pagan mystery within his reach, and 
 was proud of the title of hierophant of all religions. 
 Christianity alone he held in abhorrence. In philosophy, 
 Proklos approached the Syrian Keo-Platonism of Jambli- 
 chos rather than that of Plotinus. The primal principle 
 was with Proklos, itself threefold. From this triadic 
 principle the others emanated. The relation is invariably 
 that what the first is the second has as predicate. Being, 
 as the predicate of all things^ stands above and before all ; 
 but inasmuch as reason (vovs:) implies life as well as 
 being, the second hypostasis is not reason (voC?) but 
 life (Cw>i). From this latter emanates the reason, which 
 thus forms the third hypostasis. Each liypostasis like 
 the first is triply articulated. These three triads con- 
 tain the complex of all reality. The first is identified 
 with the divine world, the second with the demonic world, 
 the tliird Avith tlie world of liuman spirits. The jdiysical 
 doctrine of Proklos differs in little from that of Plotinus. 
 The Platonic division of temporal, sempiternal and eternal, 
 is retained and made to correspond with the division of 
 somatic, psycliical, and pneumatic. The first is under 
 the dominion of Fate, the last under that of Providence. 
 Of the Ethic of Proklos there is mA much that is new to 
 be said. The end of life was to him as to other Neo- 
 Platonists, the comprehension of, or union with, the 
 divine principle. Immediate inspiration or ecstasy was 
 the highest source of knowledge. For this trutli, the soul 
 may be prepared, however, by ceremonies and magical 
 practices. But Proklos, although in a sense a follower of 
 Jamblichos, was distinguished from him by his devotion to 
 
96 
 
 / 
 
 GEEEK PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch VI. 
 
 all the great Greek thinkers, who, he contended, differed 
 only in form from each other, but whose teaching was 
 substantially identical— though Plato was the culminating 
 point. Proklos died towards the end of the fifth century 
 (485) at an advanced age. ,,•-.• 
 
 He was succeeded in the chair at Athens by his bio- 
 grapher, Marinos of Sichem ; he in his turn appears to have 
 been followed by Isidore of Alexandria, both mere gram- 
 marians of no original ability. Damascius of Damascus 
 was the last professional philosopher of Greece. In 529 
 the schools were closed by edict of Justinian, and Damas- 
 cius with six friends banished the empire. They repaired 
 to the court of Chosroes, the King of Persia, where they 
 hoped to find the opportunity of establishing a Platonic 
 republic, but returned disappointed; Chosroes, in his 
 treaty with Justinian, stipulating that they should live 
 
 and die in peace. . , i . 
 
 About this time lived the senator Boethms, the last 
 surviving representative of philosophy in Rome, who 
 was executed on a false charge by the Gothic king 
 Theodoric. He is notable as occupying a position apart 
 from the dying Keo-Platonism of the age, having helped 
 to lay the foundation of the Aristotelian supremacy of 
 centuries later. For although, they produced no effect 
 whatever on the age in which he lived, his works were 
 counted among the chief text books of the mediaeval 
 schools, and contributed largely in the formation of the 
 Scholastic philosophy. It is doubtful whether he was 
 Pagan or Christian, though more probably the former, 
 as even in his last work, De Consolatione PMloscypMde, there 
 is no allusion to Christianity. 
 
 Night was now fast closing around the ancient world. 
 The old classical civilisation, from which the life had long 
 since fled, was falling to pieces limb by limb and shred 
 by shred. In the sixth century its final dissolution may 
 be said to have taken place. Within a space of little more 
 than fifty yeare occurred the fall of the Western empire, 
 the closing of the schools of philosoj-hy, and the formal 
 abolition of the consuls. The barbarian was established 
 as master throughout the Western world, including Italy 
 itself, and was pressing hard on the confines of Justinian's 
 
 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 97 
 
 empire. The last remains of Paganism had almost dis- 
 appeared. In the cities the temples sacred to the gods 
 of yore were re-echoing to the litanies of priests and 
 acolytes, while in the country they were silent and 
 neglected. The ancient world was dead, the media3val 
 world as yet unborn. Such was the sixth century. 
 
 It is not without a certain sense of sadness that one can 
 look back at this corpse-like world. Neo-PJatonism had 
 succumbed before its great rival — the rival whose mental 
 attitude and spirit it had practically adopted. It would 
 be curious could we but transport ourselves to that age, 
 and inhale for a moment its intellectual and moral at- 
 mosphere, and understand the yearning looks cast back 
 toward the ancient traditional rites and faith by many even 
 professing Christians ; to talk with the grammarian in his 
 library ; feeling that the philosophy it was his delight to 
 study, Plato, Aristotle, Pythagoras, Herakleitos, had been 
 but ill exchanged for the martyrologies, legends of saints, 
 and disputes monophysite or monothelite of the church ; to 
 witness the midnight rendez-vous of the peasant, as the 
 rites of some local cult were celebrated in secrecy and in 
 silence at the sacred fountain, the traditional grove, or the 
 cnimbling wayside altar. One thing that may be regarded 
 as certain, is that the Christianity of that age, formulated 
 and organised indeed, but as yet unembodied in any 
 distinct civilisation of its own, and Avith the fragments of 
 Paganism, imperfectly assimilated, still clinging to it in 
 their cruder form, was something radically distinct from 
 anything that the word recalls to our minds to-day. 
 
( 98 ) 
 
 TEANSITIONAL THOUGHT. 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHEBS. 
 
 •O^ 
 
 AVk must now, before taking a final leave of antiquity, 
 retrace our steps in order to glance briefly at the course 
 of that speculation which was either Christian, or at least 
 dominated directly by the Christian idea, and which thus 
 forms the connecting link between the ancient world and 
 the mediajval. 
 
 The attitude of Christianity, and that of all con- 
 temporaiy systems having their source in the Christian 
 idea, was one of hostility to " the world." Every world- 
 historic idea necessarily enters the arena of history as the 
 negation of the actual status quo. But the anti-worldli- 
 ness of the Christian idea, though it included this, went 
 far beyond it. In theology it meant the appearance of 
 the conception of the supernatural in direct contradiction 
 of the natural ; while in ethics it meant the erection of 
 individualism in opposition to the ancient communism, the 
 old, " worldly " conception of citizenship. In short, the 
 awh'-worldliness of Christianity meant oMer- worldlin ess 
 This change is traceable in germ as far back as the sixth 
 century B.C. or even earlier. The Hebrew prophets, the 
 first Isaiah, Amos, etc., proclaimed the " gospel of inward- 
 ness," with the doctrine of a transcendent god, a " searcher 
 of hearts ; " the Buddha again, later, preached the doctrine 
 of individual salvation in Nirvana, from the curse of life, 
 the world, and consciousness; Pythagoras, in Europe, 
 seems to have had a glimpse of the same idea ; while, as 
 we have already pointed out, the decline of the old civic 
 or communal feeling threw men more and more back upon 
 themselves as individuals. Sokrates' "Know thyself" 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 
 
 99 
 
 was the first definite expression in the Greek world of 
 this ethic of individualism. Coincidently with this, and 
 intimately connected with it, arose the tendency to a 
 purification of the divine and supernatural, by its separa- 
 tion from the human and natural. To the cultured Stoic 
 of the later classical ages, the gods were exalted farther 
 above humanity than they were to the cultured Greek 
 of the earlier age, for even to contemporary popular concep- 
 tion they were hardly any longer mere nature-gods. But 
 in Europe the movement of " inwardness " and super- 
 naturalism obtained, at least in any formulated shape, 
 only among the educated classes. In fartlier Asia, India, 
 China, and Persia, and also in Palestine, it indeed assumed 
 popular and organised forms, but in Buddhism, Confucian- 
 ism, Zoroastrianism, and the later Judaism, the future 
 existence of the soul, when taught at all, was taught in a 
 half-hearted, and faltering way; only in the two latter 
 creeds, if even in them, assuming at all a prominent 
 position. It is clear that the spiritualist-individualist 
 movement did not reach its highest phase of formulation 
 or of organisation in any of the faiths mentioned. It first 
 appeared in Europe in an organised and popular form as 
 Christianity. In Christianity, for the first time, more- 
 over, the ethics of individualism became definitely fused 
 with a spritual or supernatural theology ; the individual 
 became immortal, not in the vague, metaphysical sense of 
 Platonism or of Neo-Platonism, in which the individual 
 was merged in the Jdea or the noetic One, still less in the 
 colourless sense of the primitive ghost, to which the goal 
 of existence was the quiescence of respectable interment, — 
 but immortal as an individual, pure and simple, the heir 
 to the life of the blest. 
 
 Some maintain the primordial idea of Christianity was 
 that of the messianic kingdom on earth. If it had been 
 80, or at least if it had remained so, it would have con- 
 tinued what it was at first, a mere Jewish sect. Its 
 world-suprenicK-y was due to its being the complete ex- 
 pression in an organised form of the rising introspective 
 ethics, in combination with a spiritualist theology. These 
 ideas, previously jiut forward in an abstract form, and 
 isolated from one another, now became the living and real 
 
 u 2 
 
100 
 
 TRANSITIONAL THOUGHT. 
 
 parts of a complete system. The movement of inward- 
 ness and myBticism ever progressing m an imorganised 
 form, and among the cultured classes, now took organised 
 expression among the masses. 
 
 The Gnostic systems were the grotesque results of an 
 imperfect assimilation of the new principle at a time when 
 its formulation was incomplete. The relation of the 
 natural and Bui)ernatural, and their im ion m a divino- 
 ' human heing was not as yet crystallised into the same 
 rieiditv of dogma that it was subsequently. ^ 1 his espe- 
 cially applies to the earlier period of Gnosticism when 
 though it was, so to speak, " in the air," it had not attained 
 any definite expression. ^ .. ,. -ui^ :„ 
 
 The earliest traces of Gnosticism are discoverable in 
 the first generation of the Church. To tins period be- 
 long the Simonians, whoso origin was attributed to the 
 mythical Simon Magus; also the heresies of Cormth, 
 Thessalonica. etc., referred to by St. Paul ; but the most 
 noteworthy api.ears to have been the sect lounded by one 
 Kerinthus. Tliey are all eonnected with Christianity by 
 some form of the doctrine of incarnation. . 
 
 It was towards the end of the first, or the beginning of 
 the second ceotury, that Gnosticism first attained any real 
 importance as an element in ecclesiastical history. Tho 
 Gnostic sects may be divided into two categories, repre- 
 sented resi)ectively by tho Hellenic Gnosis, whoso home 
 was Alexandria, and the Syrian Gnosis, whose home was 
 Antioch. At least, this division seems to have tho most 
 to be said in its favour, although others have been made. 
 The Alexandrian Gnostics were dominated largely by 
 Platonic, and Neo-Platonic ideas, and the Syrian Gnostics 
 bv the Persian dualism. The chief representatives ot the 
 Alexandrian or Ilelleniq Gnosis are BaHilides, who tjiught 
 about 125, Karpokrates, and X'akntinus (arm loO), who 
 in all probability originally belonged to the l>asili(h3an 
 school, but came to Kome, where he instituted a sect of 
 his own which attained considerable notoriety and 
 numerical proportions. He died in Cyprus. 1 he \ alen- 
 tinlan sect boasted many well-known names, and lingered 
 on till iar into the sixth century. The only original 
 
 V 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 101 
 
 GnoRtic work that has survived is the Trto-rts (ro4>ta of 
 
 Yah-'iitinns. 
 
 Ani< .im- tht' Syrian Gnostics, the most eminent names are 
 its reputed founder, Menander (said to have been a disciple 
 of Simon .Alagus), who taught at Antioch ; Saturninus, 
 Tatiiin and liardesanes. As in a sense belonging to this 
 section of Gnostic teachers, though by many historians 
 placed in a division by himself, may be mentioned 
 Marcion, the distinctive feature in whose teaching was 
 the opposition to Judaism, and the Petrine Christianity, 
 and its insistanco on a gnosticised form of Paulinism. 
 The notion of the utter corruption of matter may bo 
 descriV>ud as the ground principle of all the Gnostic 
 Bv^tcnis. From tho Ploroma or inconceivable and un- 
 aV»pr<Kuliable Prius of all things, "tho immeasurable,' 
 the ''unfathomable abyss," proceed seons or emanations, 
 wliich in an order variously described in different systems 
 terminate in the sense-world. All the Gnostic principles 
 from the highest to the lowest are personified. It is in 
 the passage from the Pleroma to the world that the main 
 distinction of the various systems lies. The Alexandrian 
 Gnosis gives it, in Neo-Platonic fashion, as a continuous 
 progression, inatter only becoming real in proportion as it is 
 infiUrated by some higher eeon. Both the Syrian 
 Gnostics, on the other hand, conceived the process m 
 Zoroastrian fashion, as the inAasion of the Kingdom 
 of darkness, matter, by the King<lom of light, the system 
 of ideal emanations or a^ons. The dual principle is thus 
 present from the first in this latter case. It shouhl l>e 
 ol)served that the process of world-emanation or creati<jn 
 was apparently eoncived as actually historical, that is, 
 as taking tdace in time and space. In Gnosticism, Christ 
 bec(»mes one of the liigher ;e.ms, proceeding from tho 
 personified ideal Kingdom of light, to redeem the world. 
 But the rank assigned to hini differs in ditlbrent systems 
 In some the Christ is merely one of tho lower angels allieMi 
 ■ to the Deniiurgos, or imnio<liate creatnr of the world, 
 while in others it ai^pears as interine.liate l>etweeii the 
 Demiurgos and the Pleroma. P.ut in all cases, the ( 'hrist 
 is distinguished from Jesns the scm of Mary, into wh.an 
 it entered. The Demiurgos is commonly identihe-.l l>y 
 
102 
 
 TBANSITIONAL THOUGHT. 
 
 the Gnostics with the god of the Jews— the Jahveh of 
 the Old Testament. But here again there is a difference 
 of view. Thus to Basilides, Valentinns, Karfjokrates, etc., 
 he was a fallen angel, whose Kingdom it \n as the mission 
 of the a3on Christ to destroy (a view apparently main- 
 tained by Marcion), while witli Saturninus Bardesanes 
 and others, he was merely not " good " in the highest 
 sense, the Christ having appeared in order to supersede his 
 lower kingdom of mere righteousness by " goodness." * 
 
 Gnosticism forms a .strange and fantastic episode in the 
 history of thought. Neither theology nor })liilosophy, yet 
 something of both, neither Christian nor ragan. yet some- 
 thing of both — bizarre in an age of prophets, southsayers, 
 founders of new cults, and revisers of old cults — these 
 curious the* )Sophic systems, originated in the first century, 
 rose to imj)ortance in the second, and died away j)ractically 
 in the third, though some of the sects dragged on an 
 existence till the age of Justinian. Mauiuhii3anism, 
 which arose on their ruins, achieving a success at one time 
 threatening even to Christianity itself, was little but 
 a modified Zoroastrianism. Its reai)pearance in the 
 thirteenth century in a Christianised form, as Pauli- 
 cianism or Albigensianism, its rapid spread and as rapid 
 extinction, though one of the niost stirring and re- 
 markable stories furnished by the history of the Middle 
 Ages, does not fall within the scope of the historian of 
 philosophy. 
 
 The common doctrine of the aljsolute and inherent 
 evil of matter, and of its separation from the divine, led 
 with the Gnostics to strangely oi>po.site etliical views. 
 AVith some, jirobalily the majority, it was the basis of 
 an ethic of rigorous asceticism, l»ut witli others, notably 
 the Kar|)okratians, the Ophites, and the Keuites, it as- 
 sumed tlie form of an antinomiauisin, whicli regarded all 
 actions as indifferent, inasmuch as they all affected uiatter 
 only, and with this the divine in man was in no way con- 
 
 • In some eecta (c.;/. the Ophites, the Kenites) the antipathy to 
 Judaism was carried t<> the extent of deifying' the thiii«,'a and per'sou- 
 affC'S supiM'std to be moat obaoxioua to the god of the Jews, as th© 
 Berpeot, Caiu, &c. 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 103 
 
 cerned. Epiphanes, the son of Karpokrates, even enjoined 
 excesses on his followers. 
 
 The subject next to occupy our attention is the move- 
 ment contemporaneous with Gnosticism, going on within 
 the Church, in the persons of the ancient Fathers. This 
 movement had for its end, at once to justify Christianity 
 to the cultivated mind of the age, and to refute the 
 Gnostic heresies (so-called), the form of which was semi- 
 philosophical. The link which the early Fathers thought 
 they discovered between Pagan philosophy and Christian 
 theology was— Plato. Philo and the Neo-Platonists had 
 evolved trinitarianism out of Plato. The task of the 
 " Platonising " Fathers, as those were termed who sought 
 to mediate between the speculative opposition of the old 
 world and the new, was to endeavour to show that what 
 Plato had dimly foreshadowed by the light of reason was 
 supernaturally revealed in the new religion. The great 
 historical importance, however, of the early fathers, con- 
 sists in their having laid the foundation of the cardinal 
 Christian dogmas. 
 
 The first of the philosophic Fathers was Justin, sur- 
 named the Martyr (103-167). He had received an 
 education at the hands of Platonic and Stoic teachers, 
 and we may imagine was of " good " family. It was 
 apparently in his later years that he Ixjcame Christian. 
 The authorship of two apologies for the Christians, ad- 
 dressed to the Emperors Antoninus Pius and Marcus 
 Aurelius, are ascriljed to him, as well as a dialogue l)etweeu 
 himself and a Jew named Gryphon, and other pieces of 
 more doul)tful genuineness. In opposition to the pre- 
 vailing Polytheism, he urged the impossibility of the 
 ingenerate, changeless essence from whom all things 
 proceed, being other than One. At the same time he 
 admits a measure of truth in the writings, and of goodness 
 in tlie lives of the ancients. In bokrates especially, he 
 sees the manifestation of the logos, a term he was 
 probably the first to emi)loy in a Christian connection. 
 Plato and Ilerakleitos, no less than Moses and Elijah, 
 he was disposed to regard as forerunners of Christ, and 
 indeed actually applies to them the epithet Christian. 
 
104 
 
 TRANSITIONAL THOUGHT. 
 
 The doctrines of the fall of man, freedom of the T\ill, 
 hereditary sin, regeneration, are severally expounded on 
 Platonic and Stoic principles. 
 
 Next in order to Justin Martyr comes Athenagoras, 
 who also addressed an apology for the Christians to 
 31arcu8 Aurelius, in which he seeks to furnish a philo- 
 sophical basis for Monotheism, maintaining the Pt.lj'theist 
 to be deceived by demons, and led by them into a con- 
 fusion between the divine and natural. In this Athen- 
 agoras undoubtedly touches the key-note of the essential 
 distinction between Pagan naturalism and Christian super- 
 naturalism. With one the divine is immanent in nature, 
 the gods are simply the personified forces of nature, they 
 are the familiar friends or enemies of man, like himself 
 only more powerful ; to the other, nature, in itself dead, 
 is created, animated and governed by the will of a trans- 
 cendent deity, differing in kind and not in degree merely 
 from man as a natural being. 
 
 Theophilus, bishop of Antioch, about the middle of the 
 second century, wrote a treatise addressed to a Pagan 
 friend which contains the first distinct enunciation of the 
 Christian doctrine of the trinity, though the conception 
 of the Holy Ghost labours under some ambiguity, being 
 Btill partially identified with tlie logos. Iren^^^us, the 
 pupil of Polycarj) (executed 202, at Lyons, of which city 
 he was binhop), was specially concerned with refuting the 
 Gnostics, respecting whom he is one of our cliief sources 
 of information. Hippolytus also dealt with the same 
 subject in a lengthy treatise. Minucius Felix defends 
 Christianity on the ground of its ethics. Polytheism he 
 seeks to explain away in Euhemeristic fashion. 
 
 More imiKirtant than any of these from the standpoint 
 of the historian of philosophy is Clement of Alexandria, 
 who flourished in the third century. His Stromata are 
 uot only a mine of interesting gossip respecting the 
 earlier Greek thinkers, but one of the cleverest of the 
 patristic attempts to found Chrintianity on a I*latonic 
 basis. Clement distinguishes between tlie ttiWis, or faith, 
 •which is the root, and the yrwo-t?, or kii(jwlt(lt;c, wliich is 
 the crown ; the niejins to tlie attainment of tlie latter 
 being the understanding (c7no-T7//x>?) of what had been 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 105 
 
 previously received by faith. The true Gnosis is dis- 
 tinguished from the false, by tlie morality and true 
 brotherly love it engenders. The theology of Clement 
 issues in a kind of Pantlieism in which all life and activity 
 is identified with God. The Clementine theosophy, as 
 may be imagined, shows many points of contact both with 
 Gnosticism and Neo-Platonism. 
 
 Clement's disciple, Origenes (said to have been also a 
 pupil of Anmionius Saccas;, is V)y far the most important 
 figure among the early Fathers. He it was who first 
 made any serious attempt to reduce Christianity to the 
 form of a coherent body of doctrine. Carrying out the 
 idea of Clement respecting faith (ttuttl*;) and knowledge 
 (yv(2>o-i5), he made it his task to formulate the latter, at 
 the same time combating the principles of the heretical 
 Gnosis, and acting as Chrfstian apol >gist against Paganism. 
 According to Origen, in addition to vlieir literal or j)sijchical 
 meaning, tlie Hebrew Scriptures have a pieumatic one. 
 The initiated may discover in then an esoteric significa- 
 tion to wdiieh the literal is merel3^ the cloak. Origen, 
 with the Pythagoreans, regards the limited as superior to 
 the unlimited, and hence assigns a limit to the divine 
 power. In the doctrine of the trinity, we notice a 
 development on Justin and Theopnilus, inasmuch as 
 Origen fixes the position of the second Person, and 
 pronounces his generation eternal. The Holy Ghost, 
 although spoken of as above all created things, occupies a 
 subordinate and intermediate position. With Origen all 
 creation is eternal, that is, creative activity has neither 
 beginning nor end. Though the present world is not 
 eternal, yet an infinity of w^orlds has preceded this one. 
 This is not intended to imply the eteniity of matter, 
 since the doctrine of creation out of nothing is strongly 
 insisted upon. The spirits which were created first 
 in order, having fallen, were assigned, according to the 
 degree of their transgression, various positions in the 
 hierarchy of existence, including human bodies. The 
 species Kulisequently took the place of the individual in 
 Origen's doctrine of the fall, individual pre-existence being 
 apparently surrendered. Besides tlie exoteric or personal 
 relation to the divinity, Origen postulated an esoteric or 
 
106 
 
 transitio:nal thought. 
 
 general one, viz., that of the Church or community of 
 Baints. Inasmuch as all creation is destined to absorption 
 in this whole, it would imply a failure of the divine 
 purpose if even the greatest of the fiends ultimately 
 
 perished. 
 
 In proportion as the Church grew as an organisation, 
 grew the desire for the formulation of its doctrines. The 
 Christianity of reminiscence and expectation, of sentiment 
 and vague belief, which liad sufficed for the first century, 
 failed to satisfy the second ; as a natural result aspirations 
 began to cr^'stallise into a definite system, assimilating 
 the while the various Alexandrian and Zoroastrian doc- 
 trines which formed a portion of the general intellectual 
 life of the age. By tha second half of the third century 
 this process of crystallisation had approached completion. 
 But even yet the line Iietween heresy and orthodoxy was 
 drawn in a com|mrativ 3ly loose manner, as is evident from 
 the doubtful |Kjsition Origen occupies in Church history. 
 From this time forward, however, wlion the position of 
 the Church was ass ired by its numbers, wealth, and 
 importance, against l-eing crushed out by any persecution 
 that might arise, and when the purely defensive attitude 
 became less and lefts necessary, increased attention was 
 given to the codificJition of tlie mass of dogmas which had 
 now grown up, and to giving them severally increased 
 precision. The apologetic Fathers now give place to the 
 dogmatic, the link tetween them Ijeing supplied by 
 Ongen. 
 
 The foundation of dogmatic Christianity was obviously 
 to be sought for in the doctrine of the trinity. Hence it 
 was this which formed the main battleground of the 
 various sects and parties in the Cliurch from the l)egin- 
 ning of the fuurtli century onwards. What relation did 
 the historical Jesus Itear to the second Person in the 
 Trinity ? What was the relation of the second l^erson to 
 the first? W^'re the three Tersons co-ordinate? Was it 
 unity or triplicity which constituted the essence of the 
 Godhead? All these, and many subordinate questions 
 began now to occupy the doctors of the Church. 
 
 That the Christian trinitarian doctrine first took shape 
 in Alexandria— that seething cauldron of speculation — 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 107 
 
 during the second century there is no reason to doubt. 
 But its earlier history is wrapped in obscurity. Of the 
 nature and extent of the intercourse between the schools 
 of philosophy and the leaders of the Christian Church 
 in the Delta city, we know nothing; yet that there 
 was an intercourse is evident.* Ammonius Saccas, the 
 reputed founder of Neo-Platonism (which was really 
 founded in all essentials by the Platonic Jew, Philo, m 
 the first century B.C.), is by some writers alleged to have 
 been a Christian, at least originally, though it is evident 
 that during the period of his activity as a teacher, he was 
 altogether outside the pale of the Church. The^ truth 
 was probably that he took considerable interest in the 
 new system, and probably visited the assemblies of the 
 Christians. He might even have had himself initiated, 
 as a means of ascertaining the mature of the Church's 
 esoteric doctrine. In any case, it is interesting and signifi- 
 cant that the Christian Origen is said to have been one of 
 his pupils, in company with the Neo-Platonists Plotinus 
 and Herrennius. But whatever may have been the 
 genesis of the doctrine, the beginning of the fourth cen- 
 tury found its definition the subject mainly occupying 
 the attention of the Christian communities. The Judaic 
 monotheism of the Sal^ellians, in which trinitarianism is 
 reduced to a shadow, was opposed by the paganising 
 tendency of Arius, with whom the logos or second Person, 
 was a created being, subordinate in nature to the first. 
 As yet the dogma had not attained the consistency 
 requisite for it as a fundamental thesis of Christian 
 theology. The figure with whom its final formulation 
 as the canon of orthodoxy is indissolul>ly associated, is 
 that of Athauasius, ("2118-373), bishop of Alexandria. ^ On 
 the thesis of Athanasius it is unnecessary to dwell, since, 
 after a desperate struggle with Arianism, it obtained 
 what proved a decisive victory at Nicaja, in 325, where 
 it was erected l)y a large majority into the orthodox 
 Christian doctrine, a position it has maintained through- 
 out Christendom ever since. The attempts subsequently 
 
 • Aceordinn: to the critics the fourth Gospel was the immediiite 
 outcome of this intercourse. 
 

 TRANSITIONAL THOUGHT. 
 
 made to mediate between the two parties, the disputes 
 about a word, and the political, social and religious dis- 
 turbances caused l)y the question during the whole of 
 the fourth centur>% lie entirely outside the history of 
 philosophy. 
 
 The last of the Church Fathers that need detain us is 
 St. Augustine (353-412), bishop of Hippo, whose specula- 
 tive career offers many points of interest, as connecting 
 the ancient and the mediasval world. Of Christian 
 parentage, Augustine subsequently became Maidchiean, 
 but after a time reverted to the creed of his youth. 
 Augustine found a refuge from scepticism, like Descartes 
 at a later time, in the certainty of self-consciousness. 
 From this he argues the certainty of being, life, and 
 knowledge, which he maintains are involved in the 
 primary fact of self-consciousness. Reflection on the 
 highest stage of Being shows, he maintains, that the 
 reason in its acts of cognition and judgment, pre-supposes 
 certain fundamental principles, culminating in the eternal 
 truth which unites them in that synthesis which is tanta- 
 mount to the supreme all-embracing idea of Plato or the 
 creative intellect of Aristotle, but which Augustine identi- 
 fies with the Christian Logo». That this identification of 
 knowledge or consciousness itself with the divinity, is in- 
 distinguishable from the Pantheism of the Neo-l*latoni8ts is 
 obvious. Indeed Augustine himself admits liis Platonism, 
 often designating Plato "the true philosopher." For him 
 the distinction between Faith and Knowledge, Revelation 
 and Reason, does not exist. The one is merely a prepara- 
 tory stage to the other. Everywhere faith is the begin- 
 ning, and precedes Reason, alth( mgh intrinsically Reason 
 is higher than faith. Inasmuch as God is wisdom 
 itself, the philosopher, that is, the friend of wisdom, is 
 the friend of God. God, as the essential object of all 
 knowledge, cannot be conceived under the categories 
 which serve to determine mere ol)jects of sense. He is 
 great without (juantity, good without quality, every- 
 where present irrespective of space, eternal apart from 
 time. He cannot ev*'ii be spoken of as substance, since 
 no accidents can be i>redictitod of lam. Tlie l)est definition 
 that can be given is that of the essence of all things, for 
 
 THE GNOSTICS AND CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 
 
 109 
 
 outside of, and apart from, him, nothmg exists. Smce 
 his beino- knows no limitation, he is better defined m 
 a nco-ative than a positive manner. Being, knowledge, 
 will, action, are in him one. In short, God is the unknow- 
 able, absolute, and unconditioned fact which the known, 
 the relative, and the conditioned pre-supposes. But the 
 character of Augustine as Christian dogmatist required 
 that he should not stop at an unknowable God. Hence 
 he proceeds to a consideration of the manifestation ot God 
 as revealed to us. This is nothing other than the doctrine 
 of the trinity. Here again the agreement with the Neo- 
 Platonists is strong, though the personal terminology 
 of the Christian doctrine is formally maintained. Indeed 
 Au^nistine, so far as the letter went, actually put the 
 cormig-stone on the work of Athanasius, by not only 
 distinguishing the Holy Ghost from the other Persons, 
 but by co-ordinatincr it with the logos; his doctrine being 
 that in each of the three Persons, the divine substance is 
 
 equally present , . . » ^- • vx 
 
 Thus to non-metaphysical ecclesiastics, Augustine might 
 well appear tTie champion of orthodoxy : though looked 
 at a little more closely, it would be difficult to find a 
 sinc-le heresy with which he might not be chargeable.* 
 With all his verbal adhesion to the Christian dogma, it is 
 plain that philosophically he is, in spite of himself, a 
 Platonist and a Pantheist. The ^yoM is for him " der 
 Gottheit den ewigen Ivleid." The creative power with- 
 drawn, and the world would disappear. Into Augustine s 
 theory of the freedom of the human will, which lie identi- 
 fied with the divine will, thereby opening a path to his 
 predestinarian theology, and his controversy with Pelagius 
 on this head, space |)reclude8 our entering. It is enough 
 to state that Augustine was, in the exoteric and practical 
 side of his theology, as much the type and embodiment of 
 the Christian theologian, as he was m the esoteric and 
 theoretical side of the Keo-Platonic philosopher. \V ith 
 Au<nistine the constructive period of Christian dogmatics 
 finally closes. The whole Christian scheme was now 
 
 * The passaj^es in which An^'ustine repeut-dly insists on the equal 
 participation of the three Peraous in every creative act, might have 
 been writicii by Sabeliius. 
 
110 
 
 TKAN8ITI0NAL THOUGHT. 
 
 THE EARLIER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 mapped out in all its essentials, and many of its particTi* 
 krs. All that remained was to apply this system to the 
 details of life. Augustine practically concludes the line 
 of the ancient Christian Fathers, as his contemporary, 
 Proklos, that of the ancient pagan philosophers. In 
 Augustine we take, as it were, a second, and this time a 
 final farewell of thu ancient world. The curtain falls 
 once more. It will rise again on a Catholic and feudal 
 Europe, where the races of modem times furnish the 
 chief actors. 
 
 Among the best works on the Christian and semi-Christian specula- 
 tion of the first three centuries, may be mentioned : in English, Smith's 
 
 * Dictionary of Christian Sects and Heresies,' Mansel's ' Gnostics of 
 the Second Century,' Article, "Gnosticism," ' EncyclopHsdia Britan- 
 nica,* 9th ed., also separate articles, Busilides, Carpocrates, Cerinthus, 
 &c. ; in French, Matter's * Histoire du Gnosticisme ' ; in German, 
 Baur's *Drei erste Jahrhunderte des Christenthums,' Neaiider's 
 
 * Kirchengeschichte * (also translated in Bohn's library), and among 
 recent works Hilgenfeld's ' Ketzergeschiehte,' &c., &c. The original 
 works of the early Fathers are trausluted in the Ante-Nicene library. 
 
 \ 
 
 MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 -90^ 
 
 THE EARLIER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 The first representative of mediaeval philosophy occupies 
 so far as speculation is concerned, a somewhat anomalous 
 position. He stands like a solitary obelisk between the 
 ancient world and the middle ages. 
 
 The rise and rapid decline of the pure Keltic civili- 
 sation is an interesting phenomenon in the history of 
 mediaeval Europe. Its greatest architectural monument 
 remaining is the cathedral of lona ; its greatest literary 
 monument, the works of 'Johannes Scotus Erigena. 
 Erigena, the first mediaeval philosopher, is the solitary 
 representative of Flatonism among the schoolmen, if, 
 indeed, he can be properly classed as a schoolman. 
 
 The spirit of scholasticism, or at least of the earlier 
 scholasticism, was one of subordination. The function of 
 the reason was to act && che handmaid of dogma, in 
 defining, applying, justifying it ; in Erigena, however, we 
 see a much freer tendency. In him, Reason takes prece- 
 dence of dogma, since even the doirmas laid down and 
 formulated by the fathers, were arrived at by the help of 
 Reason. Erigena is fond of saying that philosophy and 
 religion are one, that true philosophy is true religion, and 
 vice versa. At the same time, he proceeds to explain the 
 world on Platonic principles, into which the Christian 
 scheme enters only incidentally. 
 
 Scotus Erigena was born in Scotland, or Ireland (it is 
 uncertain which, though most probably the latter), about 
 the year 800. He doubtless received his education in one 
 of the monastic schools which then covered Ireland and 
 Keltic Britain, and where Greek was still taught in 
 conjunction with Latin. In 843 he was called to the 
 court of Charles the Bald of France, and entrusted with 
 
112 
 
 medij:val philosophy. 
 
 the Chair of the Schola Platina, a position he retained foi 
 many years. The tradition which ansigns to him an 
 academical post in the University of Oxford, under Alfi ed 
 the Great, is generally considered unauthentic. Scotus 
 Erigena, in all probability, died in Paris about the 
 year 877. 
 
 The totality of all Being or Nature* falls, according to 
 Erigena, under four classes ; the Uncreated-Creating, th« 
 Created- Creating, the Created-Uncreating, and the Uncrea.- 
 ting-Uncreated. By the first and the last of these classes, 
 God in His })ure essence is indicated ; the former denoting 
 God as the ground of all Being, the latter as the final end 
 and goal of all things. The second, which stands in direct 
 opposition to the fourth, as does the third to the first, 
 comprise between them the totality of real or related 
 existence. It may be remarked that the first three 
 classes are discoverable in both Plato and Aristotle, not 
 to speak of later thinkers, while the fourth is plainly 
 indicated by the Neo- Platonic writers. Of the five books 
 into which the philosophical treatise of Erigena is divided, 
 the first treats of God as the Uncreated-Creating ; as that 
 in and through which everything exists. He is the begin- 
 ning, the middle, and the end, and hence, says Erigena, 
 justly regarded as the unity of three Persons. This trini- 
 tarian conception may also be viewed in another light, as 
 theunity of being, willing, and knowing, or again of essence, 
 potentiality, and actuality. The same trinity is discover- 
 able in the soul of man, the "image of God," it matters not 
 whether we adojit the first of the classifications just given, 
 which was that of Augustine, or tlie second, wliidi is that of 
 the other Fatliers. In agreement with Augustine, Erigena 
 denies any of the categories of thought to the essence of 
 God, who he insists can best be defined as pure notJdng. 
 
 The first passage or progression is to the suliject-matter 
 of the second book, which dciils with the created, which 
 is also creating. This is uotliing other than the system 
 of the Platonic ideas, or ideal prototypes, in other words, 
 the logos which embraces all things as the beginning, in 
 
 * As will be seen, Erit^enn employs the word Nature as synony- 
 inoiis with Being, and not in the u^uul limited sense, of the world aa 
 peiceivablc. 
 
 THE EARLIER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 113 
 
 which all things were created, as the wisdom in which 
 they were intuited. Although created, they are neverthe- 
 less eternal, inasmuch as the process of creation is not in 
 time, but co-eval with time. As with the Neo-Platonists 
 these principles stand to each other in a graduated order 
 of participation. They comprise within them the principles 
 and forms of all real things, which are only real in so far 
 as they participate in the essence of these forms. It is 
 thus that they may he regarded as the direct causes and 
 principles of the real world, or of that nature which is 
 created, but does not itself create. Tliis complex of 
 individual objects forms the theme of the third book. The 
 latter comi)rise8 a cosmology with which, by a process of 
 allegorisation, the Biblical is forced into accordance. Man 
 is the officina creaturaram, in whom the consciousness 
 of the whole lower creation is gathered up. He is 
 now out of paradise, inasmuch as he is divided from 
 God by the sense- world. But this is not the end of his 
 being. He is destined to a reconciliation with God, a 
 reab8ori)tion in the divine essence. Kespecting this, the 
 fourth and fifth books treat. In these the Pantheism of 
 Erigena is must pronounced. 
 
 Evil has no substantial existence, since the ground 
 and essence of all reality is God. Similarly evil has no 
 positive cause. It is inmumle. Free will, to which many 
 have referred the existence of evil, only determines it- 
 self to evil, through want of knowledge, that is, through 
 our mistaking evil for good. (We call the attention of 
 the reader to tlie fact tliat this is an echo of th'j Sokratic 
 doctrine.) Since its object is a mistaken one, since it is 
 evil, and therefore negation, the will remains unsatisfied, 
 its end l)eing unaccomplished. This we term punishment, 
 and therefore tliat only can })e punished Avhich does not 
 exist. The purpose of punishment is hence, not the 
 (lestruction of the sul)stauce of the sinner, but merely 
 tlie accident of this substance, the misdirected, and t\here- 
 fore essentially negative, will. On this ground Erju. na 
 insists witli < 'rigen on the ultimate union of all tilings 
 in God, on the real)Sor]>tion of the whole creatiy'jn into 
 the sultstance from which it sprang, after ally that is 
 evil, ie.y ne^itive in it, has been finally pur^d away. 
 
114 
 
 MEDIiEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 This re-abBorption ehoiild logically exclude individuality ; 
 but Erigena does not appear to contemplate this, at least 
 more than to a limited extent. The antitheses of creator 
 and created, heaven and earth, male and female, indeed 
 disappear, but the individuality remains, though in what 
 sense it is difficult to determine. As in the order of crea- 
 tion, so in the order of absorption or deification, there 
 are degrees according to purity, or the reverse. 
 
 The great work of Erigena, De Divisime Naiurse, is 
 written in the form of a dialogue between a master, and 
 disciple. 
 
 Anselm. 
 
 We pass over a period of two hundred years, during 
 which no names of special note occur in the schools. This 
 brings us to the eleventh century, a most important one 
 in the history of scholasticism, since it gave birth to two 
 of its most prominent figures, Anselm and Abelard. The 
 former was born in 1035 at Aosta. He was educated first 
 at Avranches and subsequently at the Abbaie de Bee in 
 Normandy, where he followed Lanfranc as prior, and 
 afterwards as abbot. In the archbishopric of Canterbury, 
 which he occupied from 1089 till his death in 1099, he 
 was also a successor of Lanfranc. 
 
 With Anselm philosophy becomes avowedly the hand- 
 maid of theology. Its object is the justification of dog- 
 matics, although its procedure, Anselm declares, must 
 lie independent of dogma. In Erigena we saw that the 
 idea of personality and conscious volition in the Godhead 
 and the world-order (the fundamental feature in all 
 theologj^— as such. Christian or otherwise — the feature 
 which distinguishes it from metaphysic pro[)er), was 
 left very much in abeyance. In Anselm, on the con- 
 trary, as might be expected, it assumes a much more 
 promiiient place, since Anselm was no searcher after 
 trntri, Itut a j)hilo8ophical advocate on behalf of the doc- 
 triiiek of the Churcli. His cliief work is the Proslogium, 
 whicli contains the first serious attempt to base theology 
 on theVso-called ontological argument. Anselm argues 
 the exiVtence of God from the mere conception of a 
 supreme \being which obtains in the mind. * All things, 
 
 
 /■ 
 
 THE EARLIER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 115 
 
 inasmuch as they can be expressed by predicates, point to 
 this ultimate concept, just as the predicate great points 
 to the concept greatness, the predicate good to good- 
 ness, &c. Anselm agrees with Augustine in defining God 
 as the Essence of all things. In three dialogues de veri- 
 tate^ de libero arbitrio, and de causa diaholi, Anselm de- 
 velopes the thesis that the being of the real world is es- 
 sentially negative, and in this way explains creation out 
 of nothing ; the meaning of which is that tlie being of the 
 world is the negation of the being of the Deity. Its 
 purpose is the glory of the Deity, to which even the fall of 
 man has contributed, by enablinji: man to become conscious 
 of that glory. The freedom of the will is also dealt with, 
 in a libertarian sense. 
 
 Anselm occupies the position of a link between the 
 Platonism of Erigena and his successors, and the pure 
 Aristotelianism of the schoolmen proper. The great 
 scholastic controversy — Nominalism versus Eealism— was 
 yet to come, although near at hand. Its immediate 
 starting-point may be considered the, in the first instance, 
 purely theological polemic of Anselm against Eoscellinus, 
 canon of Champiegne, whose doctrine on the subject of the 
 trinity tended in the direction of Tritheism. Anselm in 
 this dispute takes the realist position against Eoscellinus, 
 who is the representative of the most extreme nominalism. 
 The former, like all his predecessors, and in spite of the 
 Aristotelian tendency of much of his own thought, had 
 never doubted that universals were to be regarded with 
 Plato as having a substantive existence apart from the 
 particulars and singulars in which they were realised. 
 The latter maintained the then paradoxical (and in truth 
 equally one-sided) position that universals had no signifi- 
 cance except as words, that tliey were flatus vocis. It is 
 noticeable how the great metaphysical prul^lem which had 
 occupied the ancients — the relation of matter and form — 
 was now becoming whittled down to a mere logical or 
 even psycliological issue, in which its kernel was entirely 
 lost and its bearings totally changed. It is remarkable 
 also how this mere (juestion of the schools was made the 
 arena for the strife of Church partiesand the battleground 
 of twelfth-century orthodoxy and heresy. At first the 
 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 MEDIiEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 weight of the Church's authority was thrown into the 
 realist scale. This was to be expected, not only owing to 
 the heterodox theological attitude of the first rei)re8enta- 
 tive of nominalism, but also because it gave to sense-per- 
 ceiition the foremost place, besides cutting at the root ot 
 tlii- caitological and all similar arguments. Ihe pantlie- 
 istic tendencies of Kealism, when logically carried out, 
 were apparently not discerned at this time. 
 
 Abelard. 
 
 The leading representative of the great schr.lastio 
 controversy was Abelard (bom 1079), a native of Pallet, 
 or Palais, near Nantes. He studied first under 
 Koscellinus, and afterwards in Paris under the liealist 
 William of Champeaux. The result was a dissatislaction 
 with the teaching of either, but especially with that of the 
 latter, which led Abelard to (challenge his master to a 
 public disputation. This ended triumphantly for Abelard, 
 Lasmueh as William was compelled to a formal recanta- 
 tion of his extreme Eealism. Abelard's reputation as the 
 greatest dialectician of the age now grew rajvidly, and 
 scholars flocked from all sides to hear the P/i^/owi^/m* 
 Feripatetkus, as he somewhat arrogantly styled himself. 
 Eisirig liigher and higher in public estimation, in spite of 
 8b lengthened remission of labour owing to ill-health, as 
 well as of the not unnatural animosity of his former master 
 and now hiimiliated rival, William of Champeaux, whom 
 he had literally driven from Paris, Abelard attaine*! tlie 
 chair of the great Cathedral school of Notre-Dame, being 
 at the same time nominated canon. 
 
 It was now that the romantic episode occurred which 
 was destined to overshadow the whole of AWard's sub- 
 sequent career, and wliich has given to the dialectician and 
 Bchoolman the undying place he occupies in poj.iilar im- 
 agination. It would be out of place in a manual like the 
 p^sent, to enter into a detailed account of the well-known 
 Btory of the seduction of the canon Fulbert's niece by 
 Abelard, of Abelard's passion, and Ileloise's life-long 
 devotion. A subsequent secret marriage, tliough for a 
 time it appeased the indignation of Fulbert, did not 
 
 THE EARLIER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 117 
 
 prevent the perpetration of the crime which, to a large 
 extent, shattered Abelard's subsequent life. He was not 
 born for tlie cloisters, and his attempt to retire from 
 active work to the abbey of St. Denis was a failure. He 
 reappeared as teacher, seemed to be regaining his old 
 popularity, was condemned on a charge of heresy, again 
 fled from the world, this time into the wilderness, was 
 sought out by the students, again induced to teach, was 
 once more driven by new dangers to the desolate abbey, 
 Gildas de Khuys, in Brittany, whence was penned his 
 share of the well-known correspondence with Hehjfse. 
 The final Idow to Abelard's reputation was the fiasco of 
 his attempt to answer St. Bernard, to whom his dialectics 
 were an abomination. Condemned once more for heresy, 
 AMaid was on his way to plead his cause in person 
 at Kome when his health broke down, and he died shortly 
 after, on the 21st of April, 1142, at the priory of St. Marcel. 
 He was buried at the convent of the Paraclete (erected by 
 his own scholars), of which Heloise, who subsequently 
 shared his tomb, was Superior. Their bones, after many 
 vicissitudes, now lie in Pere la Chaise. 
 
 Abelard was in a sense the founder of Scholasticism, 
 that is, the method of philosophising (for a system 
 Scholasticism was not), which has for its end the rational 
 formulation of the Church's doctrines. In Abelard we 
 first iind that exclusive ascendency of Aristotle, which 
 is its main characteristic. Plato, before the chief store- 
 house for the philosopher and theologian, hencef(jrth 
 remained a sealed book until the Renaissance. It was 
 Abelard, too, who fixed the question of universals as the 
 central one. In antagonism alike to the extreme Realism 
 of William of Cliampeaux, and the extreme Nominalism <.f 
 Koscellinus, he maintained, formally at least, the Aristo- 
 telian position, unlversalia in rehm. We say formally, as it 
 is doubtful how far Abelard saw the metaphysical 
 bearings of the (juestion. But at least he joined with the 
 Nominalists in ascribing full reality only to sensible 
 concretes, while he repudiated the flatus vocis doctrine, 
 proclaiming the existence of the universal in the concrete, 
 and declaring it to emerge in the act of predication. 
 
 The doctrine of Abelard has been termed conceptualism ; 
 
118 
 
 MEDI.'EVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 but the applicability of this designation rests upon the 
 assumption that Abelard concerned himself with the mere 
 psychological question of the mental subsistence of the 
 universal. It is most probable that he never clearly 
 grasped the distinction between the metaphysical and the 
 psychological problems. He was pre-eminently a logician 
 who took delight in dialectical combats for their own 
 sake, as his contemporaries of the sword took delight in 
 combats with the lance for their own sake. With ethics, 
 however, Abelard occupied himself to some extent, and 
 some of his observations in this department are acute, and 
 in certain points even anticipate the remarks of modern 
 thinkers, although awe of the Church's authority pre- 
 vented hinl from treating the subject in any thorough 
 manner. 
 
 THE AKABIANS AND JEWS. 
 
 119 
 
 THE AEABIANS AND JEWS. 
 
 We must turn aside now from the Schools of Catholic 
 Europe, with the controversy raging between Nominalism 
 and Realism, where Aristotle was being exploited in the 
 interest of the Church, to a series also of Ariytotelian 
 thinkers, trained, not in the fathers, but . in the Koran, 
 and who appear first of all in the East, and afterwards m 
 Spain. For their acquaintance with the writings of the 
 Stagirite, the Arabians were largely indebted to the 
 Nentorian Christians of Syria. The physician of the 
 Prophet himself was a Nestorian. But it was not until 
 the reign of the Abbassides, in the eighth century, that 
 the medical and philosophical Greek literature caiue 
 generally into vogue with the learned Saracen. The first 
 Arabian translation of Aristotle dates from the beginning 
 of the ninth century. 
 
 About the same time, or rather later, flourished Alkendi, 
 to whom the English Roger Bacon was much indebted. 
 He was tlio first to attempt to place the Islamite theology 
 on a rational basis. As Professor AVallace observes 
 (Encydopwdla Britannica, 9th ed., art. " Arabian Phi- 
 losophy"), "there were schoolmen amongst the believers 
 in the Koran, no less than amongst the Latin Chris- 
 tians. At the very moment when Mohammedanism came 
 into contact with the older civilisations of Persia, Baby- 
 lonia, and Syria, the intellectual habits of the new converts 
 created difficnlties with regard to its very basis, and proved 
 themselves a prolific source of diversity in the details 
 of interpretation." 
 
 Looking at the philosopliical problem from the point of 
 view of Mohamniedan monotheism, the difficulty was to 
 reconcile the ascription of manifold attributes to a being 
 whose essence was unity. The next in interest was the 
 relation of the Divine omnipotence to the freedom of the 
 human will. But the |)hilosophical genius of the Semitic 
 mind was not sufficiently great to deal with these questions 
 
120 
 
 MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 satisfactorily to itself without the assistance of European 
 thought. It is a noteworthy circumstance that the phi- 
 losophy of Aristotle appears in its purest form in the 
 Middle Ages, in the works of the Arabian writers. 
 Next to Alkendi comes the so-called Alfarabi, who died 
 A.I). P50. His philosophy was buried in the darkness 
 of a secret order, such was the suspicion with which his 
 rationalising tendencies were regarded. 
 
 One of the most important of the philosophers of the 
 East, was Avicenna (born 980). In him the question of 
 Nominalism and Realism resolved itself, not after the 
 manner of Abelard in the West, by a destructive criticism 
 of the rival theories, but by a recognition of their equal 
 justification. According to Avicenna, all universals exist 
 ante res in the Divine understanding, in rehm, as the real 
 predicates of things, and post res, as the abstract concepts 
 formed by the human mind. At the head of Avicenna's 
 metaphysic stands the absolutely siiiiplo, necessary, and 
 perfect essence. This is the Good towards which every- 
 thing tends, and from its participation in which its relative 
 l)erfection is derived. Notwitlistanding its unity, this 
 principle embraces as determinations (tf its thought, the 
 necessary (as distinguished fro.n the merely contingent) in 
 all real objects. Opposed to tliis abstract principle of form, 
 is the %/e or matter. The matter of Avicenna is, like that of 
 Aristotle, Plato, and their successors, merely the principle 
 of limitation, of non-being, of contingency, in which the 
 whole sense- world partakes ; in other words, the principle 
 of plurality and potentiality, as against that of unity and 
 actuality. Nature is the synthesis of these fundamental 
 principles. The passage from the higher to tlie lower is to 
 be conceived as eternal. Tlie cause which gives reality to 
 things is ecjually necessary to preserve their reality, it is 
 an error to suppose that once brought into I'ting, ol)ject8 
 would remain so of themselves. Avicenna, as a natural 
 consequence of this doctrine, teaches tlie eternity of the 
 world. 
 
 It is unnecessary to enter upon the manner in which 
 Avicenna brings this dualistic system into conformity 
 with his theological creed. Sutlice it to say, that any 
 contradiction between the doctrine of reason and the 
 
 THE ARABIANS AND JEWS. 
 
 121 
 
 revelation of the Prophet, is to him an impossibility. In 
 practice he advocates asceticism as a means of freeing 
 the soul from the bondage of matter, and raising it to 
 the intelligible world, which is its proper destination. 
 
 Al Ghazzali (born 1059) represents the sceptical side of 
 Arabian philosophy, as Avicenna does the mystical. 
 His work may be described, like that of the late Dean 
 Iklansel's ' Limits of Religious Thought,' and Mr. Balfour's 
 * Defence of Philosophic Doubt,' as an effort to resuscitate 
 a popular theology by a demonstration that philosophic 
 conceptions are as unreliable, and as susceptible to 
 negative criticism, as those of common experience, which 
 philosophy pretends to undermine. The consequence of 
 the scepticism of Al Ghazzali was the triumph throughout 
 the East of unphilosophical Mohamme Ian orthodoxy. 
 Spain became henceforth the chief theatre of Saracen 
 learning. 
 
 The first figure that strikes us in the Moorish Empire is 
 Abu Beker, who was born at Saragossa, towards the end 
 of the eleventh century. He wrote only small treatises, 
 most of which are lost. The most famous of these, * The 
 Guide of the Lonely,' treats of the stages through which 
 the soul rises from the instinct that it possesses in common 
 with the lower animals, to the active intellect, which is an 
 emanation of the Deity Himself. This is, as with Avicenna, 
 by a progressive freeing of itself from the potentiality and 
 multiplicity of sense. Abu Beker is chiefly interesting as 
 leading up to the greatest of all the Mohammedan thinkers, 
 Averroes. 
 
 Averroes was bom at Cordova in the year 1120, and died 
 in Morocco, as physician, in the last year of the century. 
 His veneration for Aristotle amounted almost to adoration, 
 his works cliiefly consisting of commentaries on the master, 
 
 Averroes is strong in his polemic against the doctrine 
 of creation out of nothing, and in his rehabilitation of the 
 Aristotelian principle of evolution. What is called crea- 
 tion is nothing but the transition from potentiality to 
 actuality. Matter « on tains within it all forms, according 
 to their possibility; they do not require to be super- 
 induced upon it from without, as in the Platonic doctrine 
 
122 
 
 medij:val philosophy. 
 
 of Avicenna, but to be merely evolved, the distinction 
 betweeen jHjteniiality or posmhiliiij, i.e., matter, and actuality, 
 i.e., form, existing only in our limited thought. The 
 philosopher should recognise this. He should see that the 
 oft-repeated question as to whether chaos or matter has 
 preceded or followed order or form, from bis point of view, 
 has no meaning, since the merely temporal distinction of 
 possibility and actuality is for him merged in the higher 
 category of necessity. Averroes found in his religion what 
 he was expounding in a rational form, shadowed forth in 
 images and symbols. Only a few could attain the highest 
 goal, viz. philososophical truth ; for the rest, the popular 
 creed was necessary. With Averroes the series of the 
 Saracen thinkers closes. Their influence is readily discover- 
 able in the writings of Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, 
 and indeed, all the later schoolmen. 
 
 * 
 
 Before proceeding to again take up the thread of Western 
 speculation proper, we must cast a glance at the con- 
 temporary Jewish philosophy, a type of which we may 
 find in Maimonides. This, although possessing no espe- 
 cial bearing on what immediately follows, will have its 
 importance when we come to treat of Spinoza. 
 
 The Jewish philosophy of the middle ages consists 
 partly in the Kabbala, which was a secret doctrine, 
 claiming great antiquity, but in all probability not dating 
 from earlier than the middle of the ninth century ; and 
 partly in a Judaistic Aristotelianism, traceable immediately 
 to the Arabian thinkers, especially Averrues. The doctrine 
 of the Kabbala is comprised in two books, called respectively 
 Jezirah, or Creation, and Sohar, or Illumination. It is the 
 former l>ook which contains the original Kabbalisstic 
 doctrine, the latter being avowedly the production of a 
 Spanish Jew of the thirteenth century. It will suffice to 
 state that the doctrines contained in these books are simply 
 a mixture of Neo-Platonic, Neo-Pythagorean, Parsic, and 
 other theosophies. 
 
 The Moorish Empire was the happy hunting-ground of 
 all searchers after knowledge and sjieculative freedom in 
 the middle ages. In spite of not unfrequent bursts of 
 intolerance, thought was probably freer in Spain than in 
 
 THE AEABIANS AND JEWS. 
 
 123 
 
 any other European country. It was not alone Mussulman 
 thinkers and scholars that found a home there ; S^i'isti^^s 
 and Jews taught and studied side ^y sid^^^^^ ^T' 
 The civilisation which produced the Alhambra and the 
 Escorial can boast not only Averroes, but Avicebron and 
 
 TheTrst Jewish philosopher of any note is Avicebron, 
 author of the work Fans Vitee mu..h .juoted by the 
 schoolmen. He was born at the beginning of the eleventh 
 century, at Malaga, and died ahout 1070 His main thesis 
 is the universality of the opposition of Matter and Form 
 (or, which is the same thing, of Genus and Differentia) 
 throughout the sensible, no less than the intelligible and 
 moral worlds ; and at the same time their indissoluble 
 coniunction. Will alone transcends this opposition, and 
 hence cannot be defined, but only seized by intuition. 
 Avicebron was a pronounced Pantheist and his work was 
 in consequence shunned by the orthodox, no less among 
 the Jews than the Christians. . , , *• „<■ 
 
 Moses Ben Maimon, or Maimonides, who was a native ot 
 Cordova, was tern 1135, and died, 1204 at Cairo. He was 
 alike among his co-religionists and the outer world the 
 most hi-hK^esteemed of all the mediaeval Hebrew thinkers. 
 Although much influenced by his Mohammedan con- 
 temporaries and predecessors in the field of philosophical 
 research, having studied under the famous Averroes, he 
 Tone th; less m.ltivatod with assiduity the writings of 
 Aristotle himself. Ho was a voluminous writer, not only 
 on philosophy but also on law and medicine. His mam 
 doctrines were the impossibility of predicating any 
 positive attributes of the Deity ; with this was con- 
 nected his division of all existence mto the Makrokosmos 
 and Mikrokosmos, terms which play such a large part 
 amon.' the alchemists and the pseudo-physicists of a later 
 8<re. Maimonides, in spite of his devotion to Aristotle, 
 rSfused to admit the eternity of the yfOvU a parte ante. 
 The divine intelligence is, according to his doctrine, 
 connected with the singular or individual through the 
 human intelligence. In itself it only contains the 
 universal forms of things. . i , • 
 
 The writings of Maimonides soon became widely circu- 
 
124 
 
 MEDIAEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 THE LATER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 125 
 
 lated, and were much commented upon. It was chiefly 
 through his contemporary, Gersonides, that they were 
 mad© known to the Gentile world. 
 
 THE liATER SCHOOXj^MEN. 
 
 Albertus Magnus. 
 
 This eminent schoolman and reputed magician was 
 born in Swabia, about the year 1193, receiving his 
 education at the university of Fadua. In his thirty-sixth 
 year Albertus repaired to Cologne, as |)rofessor in the 
 Dominican College there. He is also said to have taught 
 in several other places, amongst them Strasbourg and 
 Paris, but subsequently returned to Cologne at a time 
 when Thomas Aquinas was beginning to achieve distinc- 
 tion. After much wandering in France and Germany, he 
 died in the year 1280, having outlived his famous pupil 
 •' the angelic doctor." 
 
 Albertus Magnus was the first of the schoolmen to 
 expound the Aristotelian philosophy iu systematic order, 
 at the same time taking account of its various Araliian 
 commentators, and to seek to bring the wliole mass — 
 original form and later developmouts — into possible 
 harmony with ecclesiastical dogma. He expounds his 
 modified version of " the philosopher " in a series of 
 writings which form a running commentary on the 
 Aristoteliiin text. His theory of the Universal is nearly 
 identical with that of Avicenna. It is universale ante rem 
 in the divine mind ; universale in re in the synthesis of 
 reality ; and universale post rem as the mental concept. 
 Albertus is careful to separate the Trinitarian doctrine of 
 the Church and the dogmas connected therewith from his 
 rational or phiL tsophic theology. He none the less rejects 
 the Aristotelian doctrine of the eternity of the world, 
 holding fast in this case to the Church dogma of a creation 
 in time. Albertus, with Aristotle and Plato, contends for 
 the materiality of the soul and its independence of the 
 body so far as its existence is concerned, although not in 
 
 
 respect of it as an active agent in the real world. The 
 ethics of Albertus rest entirely on the principle of the 
 freedom of the will. His attempt to combine the 
 Aristotelian morality with the Christian is more ingenious 
 than successful. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas. 
 
 Thomas of Aquino, bom 1225, at-the castle of his father, 
 a Neapolitan count, is the central figure among the later 
 schoolmen. H'h abilities being early recognised, he was 
 sent to the Doniinican School in Cologne, where Albertus 
 Magnus was then lecturing. He followed Albertus to 
 Paris, and back again to Cologne, there assuming the 
 position of M agister Studentium. He subsequently gave 
 courses of lectures in most of the chief universities of 
 Europe, wliile at the same time engaged in affairs of State, 
 Ixjth in Fiance and Italy, and active in all the public 
 business of the Church. He died in 1274. 
 
 Thomas Aquinas may be described as the spirit of 
 Scholasticism incarnate. His Summa Theologia is an 
 attempt to realise the scholastic ideal of an all-eiiil)racing 
 system of knowledge comprehending philosopliy proper, 
 tlieology, and such physical speculations of an alchemistic 
 character, wliicli then did duty for science. 
 
 The grand principle on which Aquinas based his 
 system was tliat there were two sources of knowledge,— 
 revelation and reas(jn. Tlie chief characteristic of revela- 
 tion is tlie n\ybterious and incomprehensible guise in 
 wliicli its truths are conveyed, but which are to be 
 believed in spite of this. The channels of revelation are 
 the Ilcl)rew Scriptures and Church tradition. 
 
 The lieason of Aquinas is not to be confounded witli 
 the individual reason. It is the other main source of 
 knowle>l.t;e, its artery being the writings of the Greeks, 
 C8i>ecially of Plaro and Aristotle. In both these two 
 fliinnels of knowledge there is a higher and a lower 
 H]-tiere, the latter of which, alone, man can hope to attain. 
 Thougli distinct for us, in the last resort, lieason and 
 revelalinii alike draw from the same ultimate source, 
 namely, God, or the Absolute One. Thomas Aquinas did 
 i'ui the Christian theology what Averroes did for the 
 
126 
 
 MEDIiEVAL PHILOSOPHT. 
 
 THE LATER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 127 
 
 Moslem, and MaimonicleB for the Jewish. He supplied it 
 with a fairly coherent, philosophical dress. In his theory 
 of the universal, Aquinas follows his master, Albertus 
 Magnus, who, as we have seen, in his turn follows 
 Avicenna. Realism (whether Phitonic or Aristotelian), 
 and Nominalism, alike have their relative justification. 
 In the agreement of things with the eternal ideas consists 
 their truth ; in the agreement of our thoughts with the 
 things, consists the truth /or us. The connection l}etween 
 the metaphysic and theology of Aquinas is seen when he 
 comes to treat of Form as independent Substiince, in which 
 way the existence of spiritual being is explained. The 
 angels of Aquinas, like those of Philo, are simply 
 personified universals. 
 
 In treating the Scholastic period generally, but more 
 especially a writer like Aquinas, it is hard to say where 
 philosophy ends and theology begins, for in spite of 
 St. Thomas's primary distinction, we find the theological 
 method named pervading the whole current of his thought, 
 as of that of the Schoolmen generally. 
 
 The influence of the "Angelic Doctor," as he was 
 termed, on the thought, and more than all, on the 
 terminology of su])8eqiient ages, must not be measured 
 by the comparatively limited spate we can afford, or, 
 indeed, that it is necessary, t(j devote to him, in a work 
 like the present. ** Were the importance of a school 
 determined by the number of its adherents and its long- 
 continuance," says Erdmann, "none could compare with 
 that of the Albertists, as they were originally, or the 
 Thomists, as they were afterwards called. There are 
 even many who see in I'homas at the present day the 
 incarnation of the philosophical reason." The present 
 pope Leo XIIL, in 1879, constituted Tliomas Aquinas the, 
 80 to speak, official exponent of the pliilosopliical side of 
 Catholicism. Not long after his death, liowtver, he had 
 already obtained the same position among ttie Dominican 
 order to which he had belonged. There can be no doubt 
 or question, whatever may be our opinion of the value of 
 the scholastic philosophy in general, or of that of St. 
 Thomas in particular, that he was one of the subtlest and 
 acutest intellects that have ever lived. The services he 
 
 -^fti J 
 
 has rendered in giving precision to philosophical termin- 
 ology must alone, apart from all question of the particular 
 tenets associated with his name, render him deserving of 
 the gratitude of all subsequent thinkers. 
 
 Duns Scotus. 
 
 John Duns Scotus, the precise year and place of whose 
 "birth are somewhat uncertain, though the probabilities 
 seem in favour of a Scottish origin, flourished during the 
 latter half of the thirteenth century. He is reported to 
 have studied at Merton College, Oxford, where he became 
 remarkably proficient in all branches of learning, especially 
 matLcinatics. In 1301 he was appointed Professor of 
 Philosophy at Oxford, and attracted great attention, a 
 fact expressed in the legend that no less than thirty 
 thousand students attended his classes. He acquired his 
 title of " Doctor Subtilis," on account of the dialectical 
 ingenuity he displayed in his defence of the doctrine of 
 the immaculate conception, a dogma which was main- 
 tained by the Franciscans, to whom Scotus belonged, 
 against the Dominicans. He died, it is said, in the thirty- 
 fifth year of his age at Cologne, in November, 1308. 
 
 Though the Scotists, or followers of Scotus, continued, 
 till the close of the Scholastic period, the rivals of the 
 Thomists in the learned world, it must not be supposed 
 that he was any the less a realist in philosophy than 
 Aquinas himself; indeed, Scotus may be regarded as 
 re^presenting the harder and more uncompromising form 
 of the realist doctrine. He also indicates a reaction 
 against the eclecticism of Aquinas in another respect. 
 Aquinas, as we know, gave to reason an amount of 
 authority independent of dogma; Scotus, on the other 
 hand, will not admit of any other channel of knowledge 
 than the ecclesiastical one. In accordance with this 
 position, he rejects the ontological arguments offered by 
 Aquinas in favour of the existence of the Deity, whose 
 being and attrilmtes he proclaims altogether outside the 
 sphere of reason. The most important of the writings of 
 Scotus consisted of commentaries on Aristotle and Lom- 
 bardus. His strength consists rather in negative criticism 
 
 __ \ 
 
128 
 
 MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 than in constructive thought. Thia is connected, according 
 as we view it, either as cause or consequence of his 
 fundamental position, which amounted to denying for the 
 reason any sphere of use other than that of undermining 
 its own pretensions. To him who proclaimed the un- 
 conditional acceptance of the Church's doctrines in their 
 very letter as the primary duty, it was not likely that 
 any attempt at constructing a rational theology would 
 find much favour. Scotus is what Occam was still more, 
 a Christian Al Ghazzali. 
 
 AH things, according to Scotus, are constituted of Form 
 and Matter combined. The principle of individuation he 
 finds in Form. The special individual determination or 
 the Thisness (hsecceitas) imposes itself as Form on the 
 Matter which is constituted of generic and specific 
 character. The essence of individuation is distinguish- 
 able in the things as well as in the intellect, although it 
 has no existence separable from them, i.e. the Universal 
 is not merely potentially present in the object, but 
 actually so. Scotus is particularly strong in his assertion 
 of the freedom of the will, which he declares capable of 
 self-determination without motive. It will be sufficiently 
 clear from this l)rief sketch that by his doctrine of the 
 Thisness (haecceitas), or principle of individuation, not 
 implying any limitation or deterioration of the What- 
 ness, or quiddity, but rather the completion and perfecting 
 of it, Scotus has discarded the last remnant of the older 
 Platonic realism, according to which the sense element, or 
 in other words, tliis same principle of individuation was 
 the "j)urely negative matter, limiting the perfection of the 
 universal /orw, which inhered in it. 
 
 WiLLiAii OF Occam. 
 
 William, born at Occam (now Ockham), in Surrey, a 
 Franciscan and pupil of Dnns Scotus, was for some time 
 professor in Paris. Opposed to the temporal power of the 
 Hierarchy, in accordance with the principles of his order, 
 he threw liimself with ard( tur into the conflict Ixitween 
 the French Monarcliy and the Papiicy on the side of the 
 
 THE LATER SCHOOLMEN. 
 
 129 
 
 former. Persecuted by the papal party, he fled to Padua, 
 and subsequently to Munich, where he placed himself 
 under the protection of Ludwig of Bavaria. He died in 
 Munich about the year 1347. 
 
 In William of Occam, the swan of scholasticism sang its 
 death-song. For from Occam's new arguments and re- 
 statement of the position of Nominalism, which he 
 championed, resulted the bankruptcy of the school- 
 ardently philosophy. Occam was as much opposed to 
 Scotism, the dominant philosophy of his order, as he 
 was to the Thomism of the Dominicans. His definition 
 of a Universal is interesting. " A Universal is," he 
 says, " a particular intention of the mind, itself capable 
 of being predicated of many things, not for what it pro- 
 perly is itself, but for what those things are ; so that 
 in so far as it has this capacity it is called Universal, but 
 in so far as it is one form really existing in the mind, it 
 is called singular." 
 
 With Occam the great controversy respecting Univer- 
 sals became consciously narrowed to a purely psycho- 
 logical issue. The coincidence between much in his 
 writings with the doctrines of the later English Em- 
 piricist school is, allowing for scholastic terminology 
 striking. According to Occam, the Species {mteUigihiles) 
 of the Scotists are superfluous entities. It is rather 
 the actus intelligendi itself which is the sign of the thing. 
 By sign, William understands that by which one thing 
 is distinguished from another thing. He draws a line 
 l3etween natural signs, or signs of objects over which 
 our will has no control, and those general terms forme p 
 in the mind which can be called up and dismissed 
 at pleasure. The former constitute our perceptions or 
 thouglits of thmtjSy the latter are merely states or modi- 
 fications of the soul caused by these perceptions. But it 
 would be just as irrational to snp[)Ose that even the first 
 of tljeso, i.e. our necessary thoughts, or our perceptions 
 throngh sense, resemble the things perceived, as to 
 sup|H)he that the sigh resembles the pain which causes it, 
 or the smoke the fire. Here we have a plain statement, 
 allK'it couclied in scholastic phraseology, of the ordinary 
 empirical doctrine of a world of " thiugs-in-themselves,'* 
 
130 
 
 MEDIiEVAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 which are the cause of our perceptions but concernmg 
 which we know nothing more. The second order oUtgm, 
 OTir ideas or general concepts, have, according to Uccam, 
 no connection whatever with things, but are merely built 
 up of our perceptions of things and serve to indicate 
 these. They are mere words or names, having no more 
 resemblance to the perceptions which gave rise to them 
 than the Jatter in their turn have to the things Dy 
 which f% are caused. *i, ^ :„ ^oll 
 
 The principle of Occam's philosophical method is well 
 expressed in his favourite maxim : entia non sunt multiph- 
 canda prseter necemitatem. Suffidunt mngulana, et tta tales 
 res universales omnino frmtra ponuntur. He makes short 
 work of distinctions which, until then, had passed as the 
 common property of the learned. The same tendency to 
 Bimplification is observable in his theology. Like his 
 master Duns, he denies the possibility of basing theology 
 
 on reason. .. xi. i-iu i. 
 
 With William of Occam, the philosophy of the Church 
 virtually closes. After him there is no original figure. 
 The various schools continued to furnish writings and 
 disputations up to the period of the Eenaissance, and even 
 later, but there is little to record concerning them. 
 
 Among the best works giving a general view of the philosophy 
 of the Middle Ages may be mentioned Haureau, de to philosophte 
 ieolmtique (2 Voll. Par. 1850); Kaulich, GeBchichte detsdwlashschen 
 Philosophie (Pmfrne, 1863); StikJih Geschichte der Phtlosophte dea 
 Mittdalterg (Mainz, 1862-66); Franth Ge»eh d^ ^T"" T i i 
 lande. Maurice, Mediaeval tPhilosophy. in \ol. I- of his Moral and 
 Metapbysical Philosophy, which contains perhaps the best and fullest 
 English monograph on the subject. For the Arabians and Jews 
 may be consulted Munh Melanges de phtlomphtejmye fjrahe (Paris. 
 1859) ; Errmt Eenan, Averroex it raverroimie (Pans, 1852 ; ^D'J J^f • 
 1865); Geiger, Monm heri J/f«/moft (Breslau, 1850); also £eer, i^/iito- 
 iophieund philomphische Schriftdelkr dtr Juden (Leipsic, 1852). 
 
 About the time that Scholasticism was declining, a curious 
 movement nprang up in Germany. This was the so-called 
 "German Mysticism" of the fourteenth and fifteenth 
 centuries. It is in the main concomitant with the rise of 
 that Gennan national literature whicli was brought to an 
 untimely end by the Thirty Years' War. This mystical 
 movement may be said to have originated with the Master 
 
 THE LATEB SCHOOLMElf. 
 
 131 
 
 Eclihart, who, tired of the teachings of the schools, broke 
 away from them in a direction which led directly to Jacob 
 Bohme, and indirectly to the Lutheran Reformation. 
 Johannes Tauler, of Strasbourg, may be also mentioned as 
 one of the leaders of this movement. Though he did not 
 add much in substance to the speculations of Eckhart, he 
 was possessed of a literary style which his predecessors 
 lacked, and thus contributed to popularise them. 
 
 The most important work of this school in its influence 
 on German thought was one by an unknown author, sub- 
 sequently published by Luther as " A German Theology " 
 {Eyn deutsch Theologia). The burden of the whole school 
 is the evil and unreality of the phenomenal world ; true 
 reality only being recognised in a world outside the limits 
 of time and space to which man must attain ere he rises to 
 his higher life. We have in them an apt illustration of 
 history repeating itself. To Eckhart and his followers, as 
 to Plotinus, the goal of the reason is found in the absolute 
 all-embracing Unity wherein all difference is abolished. 
 Indeed this German Mysticism of the later Middle Ages 
 is little but a reproduction of Neo-Platonic theories, con- 
 siderable as was its practical influence and results. 
 
 On the German Mystics the best work is Fraeger*8 Gesehichte der 
 deutschen Mystik im Mittelalter (Ist Part, Leipsic, 1875) ; BogenkrantZy 
 Der Deutsche Mystikj Kiinigsbtrg, 1836). In French, Albert Barran, 
 Etudes 8ur quelques tendences du mysticUme avant la reformation 
 (Strasbourg, 1868). 
 
 k2 
 
( 132 ) 
 
 TRANSITION TO MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE BENAI8SANCE. 
 
 Feudalism was in ruins. Industry and Commerce were 
 risino: into power. Catholicism was rapidly disintegrating 
 as a system even in spiritual matters, while as a con- 
 trolling factor in the affairs of the world it was merely 
 one, by no means the greatest, among several contending 
 forces. The philosophy of the schools was every where m 
 disrepute among earnest and independent thinkers. Ihe 
 art of printing had just been invented, and was of itself 
 revolutionising older habits of thought. The New World 
 was l)eing opened up by enterprising Spanish and 1 ortu- 
 guese mariners. And last, but not least, Constantinople 
 had but recently fallen before the crescents and horsetails 
 of Mahomet II., and its treasures, literary and artistic, 
 been, in consequence, dispersed throughout the Western 
 AVorld Such was Europe as the fifteenth century closed, 
 and the sixteenth opened. Among a crowd of diverse, yet 
 connected factors, each contributing its quota to the for- 
 mation of the mental character of an epoch, it is difficult 
 to assign the relative importance of any one in particular. 
 Yet it is sufficiently obvious that it was the last event 
 mentioned which gave its immediate colouring to the 
 philosophy of the period. 
 
 Little as the so-called Renaissance has in common with 
 the Middle Ages pure and simple, it yet possesses a 
 distinct medieval character of its own, just as the period 
 of the Christian Roman Empire has the stamp of the 
 civilization of antiquity upon it, notwithstanding the 
 gulf whicli divides it from the ancient world i)roperly so 
 called. The industrial middle class of the fifteenth 
 century were so far nearer allied to the yeomen and free 
 tenants of feudalism than to the commercial classes of 
 modern times. In the same way the hatred of scholasticism 
 
 FICINUS AND PICUS. 
 
 133 
 
 and the desire to start afresh on the lines of ancient 
 thought in its purity did not prevent the philosophical 
 literature of the period from having a distinct mediaeval 
 and scholastic flavour. . . x 
 
 Early in the fifteenth century, there was a society esta- 
 blished in Florence by a Greek named Plethon, the com- 
 mentator of Plato, under the special protection of Cosmo de 
 Medici for the study of the works of Plato untrammelled 
 by theological scruples. Marsilius Ficinus (1433-1499), 
 who taught in the school, was the author, in addition to a 
 work entitled Theologica Platonica, of a well-known 
 Latin translation of Plato. Another prominent reviver of 
 Platonism was John Picus of Mirandola. Turning from 
 Platonism to Cabbalistic mysticism and charlatanry, Picus 
 of Mirandola repaired to Rome to propound nine hundred 
 theses on eveiy conceivable subject, logical, ethical, 
 mathematical, metaphysical, theological, magical which 
 he offered to defend against all comers. By these he suc- 
 ceeded in achieving great notoriety at the time, though 
 not without falling under the suspicion of heresy. Picus 
 died at the early age of thirty-one, in the year 1494. 
 
 Ficinus and Picus may be taken more or less as types 
 of the average philosophical product of the Renaissance m 
 Italy. Scholars like them crowded the court of the Medicis. 
 The great speculative result of the classical revival of the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries may be seen m the Pagan- 
 ism which became fashionable among the upper classes, 
 extending even to the Papal chair itself. A state of 
 things prevailed similar in many respects to that presented 
 by the French pre-revolutionary salons of the eighteenth 
 century, of which it was indeed the precursor. The 
 dominant classes, while amid their own circle avowedly 
 anti- Christian, were publicly, and before the common 
 people, devout members of the Church. ^ ^ 
 
 The cultured indifferentism of Italy was m striking 
 contrast with the earnestness felt and displayed m religious 
 matters the other side of the Alps. To Leo X. the sale ot 
 indulgences seemed a short and easy method of raising 
 money, as little objectionable as any. This opinion 
 was doubtless shared by the higher clergy, and all 
 those who, whether Italian or not, had come directly under 
 
134 THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE RENAISSANCE. 
 
 the influence of tlie Benaissance. Populus mUt decipi et 
 decijnatur was their motto; and it was surely only fair 
 that the populm should pay for its deception. To Luther 
 and his confreres of the German Eeformation, whose contact 
 with the Kenaissance was only indirect and second-hand, 
 and who possessed in addition, the fierce earnestness of the 
 northern temperament, the whole body of Christian dogma 
 was of serious and vital moment. To the man who 
 believed himself to be continually wrestling with the 
 devil, it is obvious the sale of free leave of sinning was 
 horrible in the extreme. The great religious confliot of 
 the period known as the Reformation, was not so much 
 the struggle of a new religious idea with the old Catholic 
 one, as with the class-culture of the Renaissance. It may 
 be roughly characterised as a conflict between the two great 
 natural groups of western Europe — the Latin and the 
 Teutonic. The former would have had two creeds, that of 
 a Paganised culture for the upper classes existing con- 
 currently with abject superstition in those below them in 
 the social scale ; the latter contended for the right of the 
 growing middle classes to independent judgment within 
 certain limits ; i.e. what they deemed the fundamental arti- 
 cles of Christian belief. To them the free-thought and eccle- 
 siastical superstition of the Latins were alike abominable. 
 But it was an indispensable condition, even in Italy 
 itself, great as was the latitude allowed in speculation, 
 that none should endanger the authority of the Church. 
 Giordano Bruno, born 1548, near Naples, originally a 
 Dominican, found this to his cost. In consequence of his 
 having come to disbelieve the ecclesiastical dogma, he left 
 his order, a fact which in itself must have constituted him 
 a fool, and a somewhat dangerous one to boot, in the eyes 
 of his brother Italian churchmen of the period. To this 
 noble-minded man the lip-service and speculative chicanery 
 of other clerical scholars was abhorrent. He, at least, 
 could not continue professing a creed, or serving a church, 
 in whose pretensions he disbelieved. He was hence com- 
 pelled to leave Italy. At first he repaired to Geneva, then 
 the capital of the Reformation ; but the " reformed " 
 doctrines, so-called, were to his logical mind even less 
 Batisfactoiy than the Catholic orthodoxy he had forsaken. 
 
 GIORDANO BRUNO. 
 
 135 
 
 From thence he went to Lyons, Toulouse, Paris, and 
 ultimately to Oxford and London. He found a temporary 
 resting-place at the Court of Queen Elizabeth, and held 
 disputations at Oxford. It has even been conjectured, 
 though on perhaps insufficient grounds, that while in 
 London, Bruno made the acquaintance of Shakespeare, 
 and that certain philosophical allusions occurring in 
 " Hamlet " may be traced to the influence of liis conversa- 
 tion on the poet. But the spirit of wandering again seized 
 Bruno; he travelled to Wittenberg, thence to Prague, 
 subsequently visiting Frankfort-on-the-Maine, where he 
 remained some little time, and from which place an evil 
 fate seems to have drawn him once more across the Alps 
 into his native country. He fell into the hands of the 
 Inquisition soon after his arrival, and was conveyed to 
 Rome in 1593. There he suffered an imprisonment of 
 some years* duration, during which time every attempt, 
 wliether by force or cajolery, to induce him to recant his 
 views was nobly and successfully resisted. When, at the 
 beginning of 1600, he was sentenced to death, Bruno is 
 reported to have said in the presence of the Court, " It 
 behoves you to have greater fear in pronouncing this 
 sentence than I have in receiving it." He was burnt at 
 Rome on the 17th of February, 1600. A statue has been 
 erected to his memory at Naples, before which the students, 
 on one occasion, burnt an encyclical letter of Pope Pius IX. 
 
 Bruno is certainly by far the most important and original 
 philosophic figure to which the Renaissance gave birth. 
 An ardent disciple of the new physical d )ctrines of 
 Copernicus, he was not satisfied with philosophising tn 
 the old Platonic or Aristotelian lines, but sought a theory 
 of the universe which should embrace the new science. 
 Bruno*s admiration for the older Greek philosophers 
 was great; he placed them before either Plato or 
 Aristotle, for the latter of whom he seems to have had a 
 genuine hatred. An^xagoras, Herakleitos, Pythac:oras, he 
 held in high esteem; but the thinker who most immedately 
 influenced him was perhaps Nicolas of Chusa, the celebrated 
 German ecclesiastic and mystic of the fifteentli century. 
 
 To Bruno God was simply the immanent principle of 
 the universe, or world-soul. Bmno attacks what he con- 
 
136 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHY OP THE KENAISSANCE. 
 
 ceives the dualism of Matter and Form; the Form is 
 immanent in all Matter of which it is only an aspect. Like 
 his enemies, the Scholastics and the Arabian Aristotelians, 
 ho held to the three-fold existence of ideas, or universals, 
 ante re», in rebus, and post res — metapliysically in the 
 ultimate unity or world-soul, physically in the real 
 world, and logically in the sign, symbol or notion. God, 
 or the universal substance of all things, is related to the 
 real world as the universal to the particular. In tho 
 laws of nature, which are the expression of his being, 
 Bruno discovers true freedom. But the determining 
 and infinitely cLctual principle presupposes a possible 
 principle, which becomes determined. The other pole 
 of the philosophic equation is therefore the old prin- 
 ciple of Matter, or the infinitely possible. Thus, as 
 might be expected from the nature of things, Bruno was 
 bound, when once he attacked the ultimate philosophical 
 problem, to express himself in that same Aristotelian fashion 
 which he elsewhere condemns as dualistic. The position 
 held by Bruno in reference to the problem of Monism or 
 Pluralism is not quite clear. His work Be Monade Nmnero 
 et Fitjura, seems to incline to the latter ; the De Immenso 
 et Innumerabilibus to the former ; but possibly he had never 
 clearly propounded the question to himself. God, or the 
 universal principle, inasmuch as it embraces the sum of 
 things, is the maximum possibile ; inasmuch as it is equally 
 
 E resent in every atom, the minimum possibile. It compre- 
 ends in itself every other contradiction ; thus, that which 
 is everywhere centre, is at once everywhere and nowhere 
 periphery, &c. The one principle is the same, not only in 
 kind, but in degree, whether in the plant, the animal, or 
 the stone. The infinite possibilities of the one substance are 
 realised successively in the order of time, which is also in- 
 finite. As Erdmann remarks, if on the one side Bruno may 
 be regarded as a forerunner of Spinoza, on the other he is 
 none the loss a forerunner of Leibnitz. Tlie monad is 
 the principle of the working of the soul. Every order of 
 beings is perfect according to its kind ; there is no absolute, 
 but only a relative evil. These principles are developed 
 on Pythagorean lines. 
 Bruno is remarkable for having been the first to attempt 
 
 BEUCHLIN, ETC. 
 
 137 
 
 the incorporation of the new scientific conceptions into 
 a philosophical system. He is moreover interesting 
 from his having been the first thinker in the modem 
 world who openly and definitely broke with Christi- 
 anity. A true son of the Renaissance, in spite of 
 his originality, his philosophy, like his character, was 
 essentially formed on a Pagan mould, and he knew it. 
 But unlike the rank and file of the scholars and gram- 
 marians of the age, he boldly attacked the dogmas which 
 he disbelieved, and which were abhorrent to him, and 
 attacked them too in no compromising or half-hearted 
 manner. 
 
 In this he was not followed by his countryman and 
 contemporary Thomas Campanella, also a man of con- 
 siderable original power, though inferior to Bruno. Cam- 
 panella is chiefly noteworthy as the immediate prede- 
 cessor of Descai*te8, in making the certainty of the actual 
 moment of consciousness the starting-point of his phi- 
 losophy ; and also in having employed tho ontological 
 argument to prove the existence of the Deity. In many 
 respects he approached Bruno, even in the latter's Pan- 
 theism, but he nevertheless always contrived to keep on 
 good terms with the Church, beiner in his later years 
 Ltrong advocate of Papal dominatiol 
 
 THE SIXTEENTH-CENTURY ALCHEMISTS AND 
 COSMIC SPECULATORS. 
 
 The sixteenth century was eminently an age of travelling 
 scholars. The whole of civilized Europe was at this period 
 of universally awakening intellectual activity, literally 
 overrun with students who contrived to support themselves 
 chiefly by obtaining hospitality in return for some slight 
 service, educational, medical, or divinatory; among tliese 
 were brilliant disputationists and scholars like Gionlano 
 Bruno and Johannes Keuchlin, &c., but the vast nunib(fr 
 obtained a meagre subsistence by soothsaying, fortune- 
 casting and healing (or the reverse). It was an age of rest- 
 less intellectual cravings and of ceaseless wandering. I'he 
 
138 ALCHEMISTS AND COSMIC SPECULATORS. 
 
 Faust legend— tlie last instance in history of the complete 
 envelopment of a personality in myth— is a perfect embodi- 
 ment of the spirit of the sixteenth century. It was em- 
 phatically the epoch of the occult sciences, so-called. The 
 strange lore which had lain buried in monasteries, shunned 
 by all but a few doctors during the Middle Ages, was now 
 the common property of every man possessed of a little 
 learning. Add to this, that the new culture of Greek and 
 Hebrew had opened up sources hitherto sealed. As Italy 
 may be taken as the typical country for the more purely 
 literary and artistic side of the Renaissance, so Germany 
 (understanding by the term the German-speaking countries 
 of Central Europe) may be regarded as the typical country 
 of this magical-theosophic aspect of it, though, of course, 
 in neither case is any exclusiveness implied. The inter- 
 mingling of theosophic lore with the rising physical 
 science was most systematically carried out in Germany. 
 Most of the theosophic and alchemistio notions which now 
 became popular, the elixir vitaa, the philosopher's stone, 
 the elemental spirits, are immediately traceable to the 
 Kabbala (see above, p. 121), the authors of which probably 
 drew from Coptic, Persian and other Oriental sources, in 
 addition to the Talmud and other Rabbinical writings.* 
 
 The first to introduce the study of Hebrew, and especially 
 of the Kabbala, into Germany was Johannes Reuchlin, who 
 studied under Picus of Mirandola and Ficinus in Italy, 
 and subsequently settled at Tubingen. The story of his 
 successful conflict on behalf of Hebrew literature with the 
 monks of Cologne, in which he was supported by the re- 
 formers Melancthon and Ulrich von Hutten, is well known. 
 He wrote a treatise De arte cabhalistica. After Reuchlin 
 maybe mentioned Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim (1486- 
 1530), who wrote a treatise De occulta philosophia. Agrippa 
 was a true son of his century, spending his life in courts, 
 universities, on the battle-field, and anon in studious re- 
 tirement, seldom remaining more than two or three years 
 
 , * The Roeicnicians, the Freemasons, the Illuminati of the eighteenth 
 century, all date indirectly from thi8 Alcliemistic or rather physico- 
 theosophic movement of the sixteenth century. The attempt to con- 
 nect Freemasonry with the raediffival craft-prnild of masons can only 
 pass muster with those who have not studied the period in question. 
 
 PARACELSUS. 
 
 139 
 
 at the utmost in the same place. Like Giordano Bruno, 
 these writers, especially Agrippa, drew much from the 
 writings of the mystic Nicolas of Chusa, whose mathe- 
 matical speculations furnished material for many of the 
 magical formulse of the time. 
 
 But the man in whom the whole intellectual and moral 
 temper of the century was most perfectly embodied is 
 in the erratic person who rejoiced in the name of 
 Fhilippm Aureolus Theophrastus Bomhastes von Hohenheim, 
 though better known by his surname of Paracelsus (1493- 
 1541). He is a true prototype of the Goethean Faust. 
 The contempt for traditional and academic teaching and 
 teachers, the universal scepticism culminating in the 
 attempt to wring from nature her secrets by magic ; 
 
 " Ob mich durch Geistes Kraft und Mund 
 Nicht manch Geheimniss wiirde kund ; " 
 
 the ceaseless wandering, the alternations of drunkenness 
 and debauchery with real attempts to pluck out the heart 
 of the mystery of nature, make the parallel complete. 
 Some apology may be deemed necessary for introducing 
 the physical speculators, of whom we take Paracelsus as 
 the type, into a manual of the history of philosophy. 
 From a narrow interpretation of the word philosophy it 
 might perhaps be out of place, but the interest attaching 
 to the first dawnings of physical science, and the quaint 
 blending of theosophy and physics, which coloured more or 
 less the whole thought of this epoch will, we fancy, render 
 any formal apology unnecessary to those who take a broad 
 view of the evolution of speculative thought. 
 
 Paracelsus spent most of his youth in the manner we 
 have described as common at the time, that is, wandering 
 from city to city and country to country, practising 
 astrology, palmistry and magic and alchemy generally. 
 He is said to have been initiated in these pseudo-sciences 
 by sundry ecclesiastics. In the course of his travels 
 he visited nearly all the most prominent universities 
 of Europe. Owing to the reputation gained by some 
 cures efiected on important personages, he obtained, 
 in 152G, the professorship of medicine in the Univer- 
 sity of Basel. His first act on assuming the chair was 
 
140 ALCHEMISTS AND COSMIC SPECULATORS. 
 
 to publicly bum tbe treatises of Aristotle and dalen, 
 for whom he had a special antipathy. His discourses 
 appear to have been delivered in a manner which, whether 
 Paracelsus originated it or not, has ever since been asso- 
 ciated with his name, the word bombastic dating from the 
 medical lectures of Bombastus Paracelsus at BaseL 
 Drunkenness compelled him to resign his chair, and again 
 take to the life of wandering medicus, divinator and 
 astrologer. He died, like his friend Cornelius Agrippa, 
 in great poverty, at Salzburg, in 1541. 
 
 Paracelsus was believed by his contemporaries to have 
 unveiled the secret arcana of nature, to have become 
 psaessed not only of the power of transmuting metals, 
 but of the philosopher's stone, the elixir of life, and 
 many other things. He is usually decried as a mere 
 charlatan by historians, but probably with insufficient 
 cause. There is little reason for doubting that Paracelsus 
 believed in the main in the principles he was propounding, 
 and at least in the general possibility of obtaining the 
 powers he claimed for himself. Living in a magical age, 
 the whole of Nature presented itself naturally enough to 
 his mind as a system of " occult " properties, affinities 
 and agents. Those who stigmatise Paracelsus as a con- 
 scious impostor must surely forget the state of science at 
 the time, and the universality among the learned of the 
 belief in astrology and alchemy. These beliefs were re- 
 duced to systematic form bv Paracelsus. The idea traceable 
 throughout the period is that theosophy supplies a key not 
 only to the theoretical interpretation of Nature, but to the 
 practical application of its laws in medicine, <fec. Still, on 
 the confines of the Middle Ages, when eveiy thing, from the 
 highest relations of Church and State to those of the trade 
 or handicraft, had a mystic religious significance, it was 
 but natural the new physical science should he conceived 
 in this spirit. A scientific method did not exist, and men 
 had not as yet become accustomed to the habit of special- 
 isation, which characterises our thought in this transitional 
 age of mental and material anarchy. 
 
 The cosmological system of Paracelsus, for with meta- 
 physic he did not occupy himself, was based on the con- 
 ception of the tripartite division of nature and man. Nature 
 
 PARACELSUS. 
 
 141 
 
 was the macrocosm, man the microcosm. Man, as the 
 pinnacle of nature, embraced in his body the elements of 
 all other things. Without astronomical, physical and 
 theological knowledge, it is impossible for the physician 
 to understand the true nature of the human body or its 
 diseases. The trinitarian principle was all-pervading, the 
 prima materia^ understanding by this a physical substance, 
 contains within it the potencies of all things ; but even in 
 this may be traced a triple nature, generally designated by 
 Paracelsus as salt, sulphur, and mercury, though sometimes 
 as Bahamum, BesinUy and Liquor, Paracelsus is careful to 
 insist he does not mean these substances in the gross bodily 
 form presented to us, but their spiritual essences. All 
 material things contain these principles ; thus in wood that 
 which forms smoke is the mercurial principle, that which 
 burns is the sulphurous, while what remains as ash is the 
 saline. In man, the body represents salt, the animal soul 
 sulphur, and the intellectual principle mercury. In the 
 combination and separation of these, the variety of things 
 appears. The so-called four elements as we know them 
 are the ofi'spring of the spirit or vulcanus inhering in 
 them. What in the elements is vulcanus, appears in com- 
 posite individual things as their archeus, or individual 
 force. Man, who is the quintessence of all things, is depen- 
 dent upon all : his intellect is divine, his animal soul astral, 
 his body terrestrial. Hence his state in sickness can only 
 be understood by referring it to the particular element 
 which is its cause. A knowledge of water and earth only 
 gives the clue to the body of man. The macrocosm 
 embraces heaven as well as earth, and to man's spiritual 
 nature, which corresponds to the former, a knowledge of the 
 heavenly Indies is requisite, for with these it has its affinity. 
 To investigate this is the function of astrology. The 
 visible stars are to Paracelsus only the body (corpus) of 
 the invisible essences which animate them. But it is need- 
 less to enter further into the details of Paracelsus' system 
 (if it can be termed such), with its sylphs, gnomes, kobbolds 
 and salamanders; its far-fetched and fanciful analogies; 
 its strange medley of Cabbalistic, Platonic and Christian 
 doctrines. Its key-note is the correspondence between 
 macrocosm and microcosm. As the macrocosm is divided 
 
142 ALCHEMISTS AND COSMIC SPECtJLATOIlS. 
 
 into its upper and lower parts (the heavens and theeartl^, 
 80 is the microcosm into Ixxly and animal soul. Outside 
 these spheres which constitute the subject-matter of human 
 science is the divine order, the subject-matter of theology, 
 the divine science. To this belongs the rational and moral 
 nature of man, and the creative activity by which the 
 universe is sustained and governed. On this ground human 
 reason is inadequate, and revelation ^esoterically inter- 
 preted) is the only guide. A point that strikes one m 
 reading Paracelsus is that with all his hatred of Aristotle 
 and Scholasticism, he is unable to dispense with the well- 
 known Scholastic distinctions and terminology. The 
 school-philosophy, even in its decay, asserted its influence 
 on friends and foes alike. 
 
 It is an apt illustration of the truth of what we before 
 said as to the tendency of the age, that much the same 
 views as those of Paracelsus were enunciated by an 
 Italian contemporary^, also a physician, who, so far as we are 
 aware, had no knowledge of him or his works. Hierony- 
 MUS Cardanus (or Cardano, as it is in Italian), well-known 
 for his interesting and curious autobiography entitled Be 
 mtd propria, was bom in 1500, at Milan. His fame as a 
 mathematician and scientific investigator, which in his 
 own day was great, has not proved enduring, owing to the 
 fact, as observed by a recent writer, that he was compelled 
 to lal)our, " partly in fields of research where no important 
 discovery was then attainable, partly in those where his 
 discoveries could only serve as the stepping-stones to othera 
 by which they were inevitably eclipsed." Like Paracelsus, 
 Cardanus was an ardent believer in astrology, which he 
 sought to establish on inductive principles, as well as in 
 the "occult sciences" generally. His two philosophical 
 treatises are entitled respectively Be mhtilitate rerum, and 
 Be varietate rerum. In these, as we have said, we find much 
 the same order of speculation as in the works of Paracelsus ; 
 the same fanciful analogies; the same subtle affinities; 
 the same haphazard guesses. The " elements " from which, 
 like his elder contemporary, Cardanus excludes that of fire, 
 though for different reasons, naturally play an important 
 part in his system. Even the elemental 8i)irit8 and other 
 extra human intelligenciea assumed by Paracelsus, are to 
 
 CARDANUS. 
 
 143 
 
 be found in Cardanus. At the same time there are re- 
 markable glimpses of later thought which open out now and 
 again in the works of the Italian. Even the doctnne of 
 evolution appears in a crude form, while the truth that 
 the end of man's being is social rather than pe^onal, is 
 clearly indicated in more than one place. Cardanus is 
 prol>ably the first writer who hinted at the idea of a philo- 
 sophy of history. In fact, the whole of his thought, even 
 where most fanciful, tends to the recognition of an orderly 
 sequence in events, in short, of the prevalence if not the 
 universality of law, in every sphere of existence. Cardanus, 
 who was also a great traveller, died at Kome m lo70. 
 
 Among works dealing with the physical speculations of the sixteenth 
 Gentry mlvte mentioned Rixner und Siber s Lehen und Metnungen 
 CMmlZiker im IGten und llten Jahrhundsrt, forming a part of 
 
 Thiel III. ; Eidmann deals fuUy with thia subject m VoL U. of hiB 
 Hiiioiy. 
 
( 144 ) 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 rmST EPOCH. A. 
 
 THE ABSTRACT-DOGMATIC SYSTEMS. 
 
 We have now traced briefly the development of specu- 
 lative thought from its rise in the sixth century B.C. 
 to the close of the ancient world ; we have seen the transi- 
 tion of philosophy in the hands of the Church from 
 its ancient forms into Scholasticism, in which it became 
 the slave of dogma ; we have witnessed the decline and 
 fall of Scholasticism at the Renaissance, and its replace- 
 ment by the resuscitation of classical systems, through the 
 scholars of Italy, and the crude physical speculations of 
 men such as Agrippa, Paracelsus, and Cardanus. Henc^ 
 forth we have done with the Middle Ages, and enter a 
 period with which current thought is directly affiliated ; 
 in short, the period of Modem Fhilosophy. 
 
 We noticed that, notwithstanding their declamations 
 against Aristotle and the schoolmen, the writers of the! 
 Sixteenth century still employed scholastic expressions and 
 followed a more or less scholastic order of thought. The 
 great negative characteristic of the earlier stages of the 
 modem period (wo say earlier stages, though it is a 
 characteristic which it has retained in some of its 
 most recent developments) is the entire absence of all 
 Aristotelean terminology and method. The reaction 
 against scholasticism had at last done its work. With 
 the (luibbling and word-jugglery of the schoolmen were 
 swept away the all-important distinctions of the Stagirite 
 tiimself. 15ut philosophy was now for the first time since 
 the efirlier Roman Empire more or less independent, not 
 only of positive dogma, but of any special and determinate 
 intellectual tendency. In the Seventeenth century the 
 foundations of modern civilization in all its aspects were 
 laid; the era of "free contract" (so called) had fairly 
 dawned ; the hierarchy of the Middle Ages was spasmodio- 
 
 Ei>OCH I.A.] THE ABSTRACT-DOGMATIC SYSTEMS. 145 
 
 ally gasping in its death-throes ; authority and status were 
 undermined in all directions ; the middle class was assert- 
 ing its power against all forms of feudal domination ; the 
 battle between Catholicism and Protestantism, which had 
 rfiged in the preceding century in the various countries of 
 Europe, was now practically decided one way or the other ; 
 in those lands where the mi<ldle class was powerful, 
 Protestantism having become the dominant creed. Philo- 
 sophy, although now free from the physical persecution of 
 ecclesiasticism, still indirectly felt the'^influence of dogma, 
 an influence, however, which affected it less and less as 
 time went on, while the oppression it exercised was more 
 of a moral and social than a legdl character. 
 
 Tliere are two main contemporary streams of philosophic 
 development constituting the speculative history of the 
 Seventeenth and Eighteenth centuries, which may be 
 termed respectively the Abstract-Dogmatic and the Em- 
 |)irical-Sceptical. 'i"he reputed founder of the first of these 
 lines was the French Descartes, that of the second the 
 Englisli Bacon. The Abstract-Dogmatic schools consist (I.) 
 of the Cartesians proper, (II.) of Spinoza and his followers, 
 and (III.) of Leibnitz and those who drew their inspiration 
 from him, such as the Germans, VVolft', Baumgarten, &c. 
 '.riie Em[)iricjil-Sceptical schools embrace the names of 
 Baccm, Hobbes, Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Reid, and the 
 Scotch psychologists. The French sensationists and ma- 
 terialists of the Eighteenth centuiy are also an offshoot 
 of this line of thought. 
 
 ^ The Abstract-Dogmatic schools postulate the reality out- 
 side of experience of the forms of think in/j wliich alone possess 
 meaning in the system of knowkMlge or experience. They 
 assume concreteness in what is really only a detached 
 ek inent of the concrete ; they assume, that is, the condi- 
 tions of the whole synthesis as present, while ex hypothesi 
 tliey are making abstraction from them. 
 
 The Empirical-Sceptical schools profoundly ignore 
 Metai)hy>ic, and confine themselves to ]>s}'chology ; yet 
 they in the L.ng run usually fall into the metai)iiysical 
 assumption of an indepen<lent external wot Id as tlie cause 
 of the individual mind's impressions. The next step is 
 Scepticisui, in which the mere individual im2)reBsion or 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.a. 
 
 idea per se is hypostasised ; that is, made the iiltiinate 
 reality. In Scepticism the bankruptcy oi Lmpincism 
 becomes manifest. Philo8oi)hy degenerates into a mere 
 negative criticism. Tlicre is, however, one way of escape 
 and that is :VIatcri;ili8ni, in wliicli tlie concrete corpo- eal 
 substance of the universe is. made absolute. In thih 
 doctrine a truth h presented, though inadequately, 
 because torn from its connection. It is nevertheless the 
 truth of Empiricism, its logical and, in a sense, valid 
 result. 
 
 BESCAETES. 
 
 Eene Descartes was born on March 31st, 1596, at La 
 Haye. in Touraiue, and educated in the Jesuit College of 
 La' Fleche. Tlie early training of Descartes in mathe- 
 matics and philosophy had the effect for many years to 
 disc'-Tist him of all such pursuits. For some time he 
 occupied liimself with play and the chase. Subsequently 
 he entered the army of the Netherlands as a volunteer. 
 Duiin'- this portion of his career he began again to 
 interest, himself in intellectual pursuits. He soon ex- 
 chanc;e(l his couimissi* )n in the army of the Netherlands 
 for tine at first in the liavarian, and afterwards in the 
 Imperial army then engaged in the '^ Thirty Years' War." 
 It was now that Descartes began to occupy hiiitself in 
 ©arnest with mathematical investigations chiefly con- 
 nected with algebra and geometry. He shortly after 
 resigned his c( mimission and devoted himself to travel, as 
 a private individual, visiting in succession Holland, 
 France, Switzerland, and Italy. He afterwards settled 
 in Holland, occupying himself with his studies, until an 
 invitation from (Jmen Cliristina of Sweden induced him 
 to remove to Stockholm. The severity of the climate 
 proviiio- t<K) nnicli for his hejiltli, never very robust, he 
 died on the 11 til of February, 16."><', in the last-named city. 
 The i»iincipjd ]>hilosophi(al works of Descartes are his 
 Prinr'j'i'i Phi-loHophi bis Medltationes de prima Fhihmophia, 
 bis earlier Emiia PhifoHfqihiqueSj and his short treatise, 
 the DiscouVii mr la MetJwde, 
 
 Epoch La.] 
 
 DESCARTES. 
 
 117 
 
 Descartes' Doctrines. 
 
 The system of Descartes starts from the celebrated 
 'Methodic Doubt,* as it is termed by his followers. 
 Descartes' earlier alienation from philosophy had been 
 largely due to the loose literary spirit of scepticism then 
 prevalent in France among the educated classes, and 
 which is embodied in the writings of Montaigne. It was 
 clear, therefore, that before Descartes could enter with 
 any zeal upon a new course of philosophic investigation, 
 he must make up his account with the. scepticism that, 
 with him no less than with others, had discredited the 
 traditional methods of the schools, methods which he had 
 satirically characterised as aifording the student the 
 means of " talking glibly on all subjects in a manner to 
 excite the wonder of the less instructed." With the 
 object, therefore, of forestalling the destructive effects of 
 sceptical arguments on the system he hopes to rear, he, 
 80 to speak, inoculates it with scepticism at birth. 
 
 The * Methodic Doubt,' above alluded to, forbade any- 
 thing to be taken for granted that could- possibly be 
 questioned. But could not everything be questioned? 
 *' No," answers Descartes, the evidences of the senses may ; 
 the most apparently indestructible declarations of the 
 intellect may ; but there is one thing which all doubt 
 itself presupposes, and that is the doubter. I exist 
 doubting, but doubting is only a form of thinking; there 
 fore this is as much as to say I exist thinking. Descartes' 
 formula for this fundamental position of his philosophy is 
 the celebrated Co(jit(> ergo sum. The logical forjn of this 
 proposition was obviously vulnerable, and Gassen<li\s 
 criticism of it, from his point of view, undoubtedly 
 justified. But the form of statement does not really affect 
 the point at issue. Descartes wislied to insist upon the 
 intuitive character of the proposition, "I am conscious." 
 In this he regards as indistiMguishable the fact of 
 existence and the fact of cons- iiusness, of the matter, 
 /, and the form, thought, a circumstance which, as we 
 shall see later on, has had a bearing on the Kantian 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.a. 
 
 and post-Kantian philosophy of Germany. Furnished 
 with this primal deliverance of consciousness, Descartes 
 thought he had discovered the one true foundation on 
 which philosophy can stand. The Cogito was the philo- 
 sophic bantling whose system had been purified ot 
 debatable matter, such as might subsequently prove soil 
 for scepticism, by the lymph of the - Methodic Doubt. 
 Here, therefore, was the criterion of truth, all that stood 
 or fell with this axiom partook of its certainty, and 
 partook of it in proportion to its inseparability from tho 
 act of consciousness. From the alx)ve criterion of truth 
 Descartes deduces the theorem that the clearness of a 
 conception is the test of its truth. This, however, is 
 limited by the possibility that a being superior to myself 
 might deceive me. Hence the necessity before proceeding 
 farther of determining tho question of the existence and 
 attributes of such a l)eing. . 
 
 Now, no idea which obtains in the mind can repre- 
 sent more than the object from which it is formed or 
 which causes it. Of some ideas, as for instance that of 
 a doubting or thinking being, it is quite clear that I 
 mifht have them, even if I alone existed ; for I myself 
 should be fheir prototype. "But there is one idea," 
 proceeds Descartes, " which it would be impossible could 
 arise within me in tlie latter case ; to wit, the idea of 
 an infinite Being. This I can neither draw from my- 
 self, since I am finite, nor can it come through an 
 abstraction from anything finite without me."^ 1 can 
 very well arrive by abstraction at the conception of a 
 nerjatwe infinite, in other words, of an indefinite, but not 
 at the positive conception of an infinite excluding all 
 limitation whatever. I can tliink, for instance, of an 
 endless si>ace by abstracting from the limits of the 
 known space. B\it this is infinite only in a particular 
 sense, it is not absolutely infinite. Every conception 
 of the merely negative infinite, the infinite of one kind 
 only (i.e. tliJ imiffinite) presupposes that of tlie positive 
 infinite. Hie latter idea it is not in my power to 
 diminish bv the abstraction or to increase by the ad- 
 dition of anything, and c.nseqnently, says Descartes, 
 "nothing remains but to admit this idea "as coeval with 
 
 El'OCH I.A.] 
 
 DESCARTES. 
 
 149 
 
 my creation, in other words, as co-extensive with the idea 
 
 of myself." 
 
 The presence of the idea of the infinite withm us demon- 
 strates, according to Descartes, the existence of an infinite 
 Being without us who is its original, and who has Himself 
 implanted it in us. Even viewing the matter a posteriori, I 
 should require a cause, though I existed from eternity, 
 for without it I could not continue in exif>tence. To be 
 maintained in existence is to be continuously re-created. 
 But the argument for the existence of God upon which 
 Descartes most plumes himself is his celebrated "onto- 
 logical " argument. The existence of God, according to this 
 ar<^ument, must be drawn from his very conception itself; 
 for inasmuch as the idea of a triangle contains that of 
 three sides, so does the idea of the Infinite contain that of 
 necessary existence, since contingent existence would 
 imply dependence or limitation and theiefore contradict 
 the notion of infimly. Descartes distinguislies his onto- 
 lot'ical argument from tho somewhat similar one of 
 Anselm by the remark that it does not rest simply 
 upon the mere significance of a word, upon the fact 
 that we conceive God as existent— since all we tliink of, 
 in so far as we think of it, is thought of as existing— 
 but upon the necessity which attaches to the thought of 
 existence in this particular case, and upon the fact that 
 this thought is not a mere figment of the mind, but a 
 necessary, because innate, idea. _ ^ 
 
 The existence of God is the second position in the 
 Cartesian construction. " Self" and " God " satisfactorily 
 accounted for, the next proceeding is to estaljlish the 
 existence of the *' World." Descartes having found as the 
 ultimate postulate of his philosophy the clear and de- 
 terminate conception of himself as a thinking being, and 
 having proclaimed clearness of perception the test of 
 truth, barring the possibility of deception from a superior 
 being, next proceeded to determine the existence and the 
 nature of this being. In .the course of the investigation, 
 the notion of an infinite being was shown to exclude all 
 limitation and all imperfection of any kind whatever, m 
 other words, to involve the notion of absolute perfec- 
 tion. But the deception is irreconcilable with moral 
 
150 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.i 
 
 EtoCH I.A.] 
 
 DESCARTES. 
 
 151 
 
 perfection, and hence must be excluded from our con- 
 ception of divinity. Yet were it the case that onr per- 
 ceptions which appear to represent an existent world did 
 not really do so, we should be compelled to assume de- 
 ception, i.e. moral im|ierfectioii, in our Infinite Author, 
 The canon is therefore now established without reserve, 
 that that of which we have -a clear perception exists. To 
 the objection that the above argument proves too much, 
 since it precludes the possibility of human error, Descartes 
 replies, that error does not consist merely in the imperfect 
 apprehension of things per se, but in the individual's "act 
 of will by which that imperfect apprehension is accepted 
 as true. In this connection he draws a distinction between 
 the unsophisticated thought which instinctively accepts 
 the dictates of common-sense without hesitation (e.g. the 
 belief in external objects), and the thought which comes 
 of reflection and which is voluntary. 
 
 Now that the validity of his cant)n of investigation 
 has l>een settled, Descartes naturally proceeds more quickly 
 in the construction of his system. He distinguishes 
 between those conceptions which pre-suppose, i.e. are 
 limitations of, other conceptions or ideas, and those which 
 are independent, or which are conceived per se. The only 
 ideas which are capable of being conceived jyer «e, Descartes 
 finds to be those of exttmsion and thought. Each of these 
 can be thought of without the assistance of the other or 
 of any foreign idea whatsoever except that of infinity. 
 These independent self-existent ideas, Descartes terms 
 atirihuta^ which he derives from the etymology a natura 
 trihuta sunt. The former class of ideas — those which are 
 derivative, that is, are merely limitations of other ideas 
 — he terms modi. Although extension and thmght are the 
 only attrihuta of things known to us, Descartes declares 
 that in God, in whom of course there an; necessarily no 
 modi, inasmuch as these would imply limitation, "the 
 attributes are many." This portion of Descartes' system 
 is especially important in its bearing on Spinoza. In 
 this respect also Descartes' definition of the independent 
 subjects of the attributes, which he terms substances, is 
 particularly note worthy. A substance, says Descartes, 
 is ** that which requires nothing else to its being or con- 
 
 ception;" in other words, it is an absolutely independent 
 existence ; for, as he expressly asserts, an incomplete sub- 
 stance is a contradiction. Still further remarkable is it 
 that (in his Principia) he actually touches Spinozism m 
 conceding that, according to the literal terms of his defini- 
 tion, there could only be one substance, namely, God. He 
 gets over this somewhat inconsequently by extending the 
 definition as rejrards the supposed created substances m 
 which the attributes of extension and thought are assumed 
 to inhere, namely mind and matter, by declaring that though 
 not'abs(tlutely independent, inasmuch ass they have tlieir 
 ground in the Supreme Being, yet they are relatively so, 
 that is, as regards all other created things. The existence 
 of hodif (matter) and mind, as sul)stances, Descartes finds 
 ffuaranteed l>y his conception of them as such, and a 
 fortiori, by the trustworthiness of the Deity. Inasmuch 
 as ihey are substances they mutually exclude each other. 
 Thought is i.ure inwardness, having no analogy whatever 
 with extension, which is pure outwardness. There can be 
 no question of any community between them. This 
 extreme dualism was the rock upon which Cartesianisiu 
 split. It is true Descartes thereby separates himself from 
 Spinoza, but he also logically separates himself from 
 Leibnitz, although there are not wanting indications m 
 his works of a tendency, at times, to Leibnitzianism. 
 
 The practical consequence of the dualistic character of 
 Descartes' metai)hvsics is, that the two departments of 
 . physics and psychology are entirely severed from one 
 another. Descartes always regarded his j.liysics as the 
 most imi^rtant i>art of his work. Its problem was to 
 formulate all that can be discovered in nature by reflec- 
 tion thereupon. In this, it is clear, abstraetion must be 
 made from the sensuous qualities of ol)jects, for these 
 sensuous qualities are no more than states or feelings of 
 the perceiving mind, which have as much resemblance to 
 that wliich causes tlie feeling as mere words liave with 
 the ideas of which they are the signs : " All the sensuous 
 qualities of things lie in us, i.e. in the soul," Descartes 
 repeatedly insists. Hence physical invesli-ation demands 
 that we alistract from all that d«»es not pertain to the 
 objects themselves, or to tlie modes by which they ar© 
 
152 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch La. 
 
 related to us, as for instance time, number, &c. The only 
 quality which, according to Descartes, inheres in iKxlies 
 themselves is extension in its tlireo dimensions of length, 
 hreadth, and thickness. Space and matter are coextensive, 
 an empty space involving a contradiction. Descartes 
 maintains extetmon as tlie sole qnality of matter per se, not 
 even excluding gravity. The result of this is that ho 
 was enabled to identify physics with mathematics, and to 
 claim for his physical doctrine the certitude of geometry. 
 In accordance with this view, he excludes all idea of 
 purpose in nature from his investigations. He, of course, 
 did not deny divine purpose in tlie world, but declared 
 speculation with regard to it impious. All which follows 
 from the conception of extension, and nothing but this, is 
 to be affirmed respecting this corporeal world. Hence 
 there are neither atoms nor limits in tlie world. The 
 capacity of division, of figure, and of motion, is comprised 
 in the conception of extension. To their realisation these 
 capacities re<iuiro a cause outside themselves, which cause 
 is God. The first principle of realisation is motion ; the 
 variety of bodies consists in nothing but the different 
 motions of themselves or their parts. A curious anticipa- 
 tion of modem thought is seen in Descartes' principle of 
 the constancy of th© sum of matter and motion in the 
 universe. 
 
 In his Monde, a work containing his theories on physical 
 science proper, he starts with the hypothesis of a new 
 world to be created on mechanical and mathematical princi- 
 ples alone. In this he furnishes many interesting anticipa- 
 tions of modem science, in addition, as might be expected, 
 to many untenable hypotheses, such, for instance, as the 
 celebrated " theory of vortices," and some of his theories 
 respecting physiology, though in this department he also 
 achieved some valuable results. Animal bodies, including 
 the human, he regarded, in accordance with his funda- 
 mental physical principles, as purely automatic. It is the 
 psychical piinciple, or soul, in man, which alone distin- 
 guishes him from the lower animals. 
 
 This leads us to the Cartesian Psychology, or doctrine of 
 the soul. As the attribute of body is extension, so the 
 attribute of soul is thought; just as the material substance, 
 
 DESCARTES. 
 
 153 
 
 .Kiuch as extension is its attribute, can neither exist 
 nor be conceived without extension; so the mental sub- 
 stance whose attribute is thought, can neither be con- 
 ceived nor exist apart from thought. The soul is always 
 conscious— always thinks— just as light always illumines, 
 as lieat always warms, &c. Even the babe in the womb 
 i.s conscious. There is no such thing as dreamless sleep ; 
 it is merely memory failing us, which leads us to think this 
 possible, and memory, Descartes is careful to remind the 
 reader, is a purely bodily state. 
 
 Descartes divides ideas as concerns their clearness into 
 adequate and inadequate, or complete and incomplete ; as 
 concerns their origin, into self-made ideas (fictse), into bor- 
 rowed ideas (adventitise), and inborn ideas (innatm). The 
 will is always dependent on consciousness, that is, on an 
 act of perception ; but there may be acts of perception 
 apart from any act of will. Error consists in the affirma- 
 tion by the will as true of an inadequate perception or 
 idea. Hence, in God, in whom is no inadequate idea, 
 error is impossible. In the latter case truth consists in 
 his affirmation of it, in the fact that he wills such and such 
 to be tme. In the same way goodness is purely determined 
 by the Divine will. Truth and goodness are, therefore, wdth 
 Descartes, dependent in the last resort solely on the arbi- 
 trary fiat of a supreme being. 1 )escartes, of course, maintains 
 the freedom of the human will, but at the same time regards 
 iudeterminatenessas the lowest stage of willing. He who 
 possessed clear and distinct ideas of the good and the true, 
 would never hesitate in choosing it, and hence would not 
 be inditferent. The highest freedom and the highest 
 perfection obtains, when error has become imposi^ible 
 through knowledge. The Sokratic doctrine thus once 
 more appears in tlie liistory of ethical speculation. 
 
 AVhen Descartes conies to si)eak of Anthropology, that is, 
 of man, as a personality in which thought and extension 
 appear in union, his dualism naturally gives him some 
 tr»)ul)le. The union he declares to constitute only a 
 conqmition, wliich is purely empirical, resting upon a super- 
 natural tact, that is a special act of the Divine will. Al- 
 thougli the soul is in union witli the whole body, this union 
 is ett'ected immediately by means of a specific organ, to 
 
154 
 
 MODERN PniLOSOPIIY. 
 
 wit, tlie pineal gland, which according to Descartes, i^^ 
 sourco of the * animal spirits,' and for this and sundry 
 other fanciful reasons the most suitable seat for it. On 
 the al)ove theory, Descartes proceeds to explain the effects 
 of the emotions and passions. The contest of the mind 
 with the appetites is not one Ixjtween a higher and a lower 
 soul, hut between the soul and the so-called ' nervous fluids 
 or ' animal spirits.' The practical side of Descartes' ethics 
 falls to be dealt with in this connection. The most im- 
 pr,rtaiit point, however, in his anthropological doctrine, 
 for the subsequent history of the Cartesian school, is the 
 virtual assumption of a perpetual miracle in the unioA 
 
 of body and soul. • , ^ • 
 
 In the foregoing pages we have endeavoured to give 
 a clear general view of the Cartesian system as it left 
 the hands of its founder. Its strength and its weakness 
 will appear in the course of the succeeding historic de- 
 velopment. Criticism is unnecessary of a doctrine which 
 the average educated reader will now-a-days readily see 
 is fatally vulnerable in many of its cardinal principles. 
 The sceptical attitude assumed at starting gives way, alter 
 the first stage in the construction has been reached, to so 
 much obvious sophistry even in essentials, that whether 
 they be right or wrong in fact, we can hardly wonder at 
 the attitude of those critics who have regarded it as a 
 •* blind," consciously put forward to guard certain vulner- 
 able points in the coining construction wliich had been in 
 reality assumed from the first. Facilis ascensus cmli, to the 
 aspiring philosopher. But be this as it may, Descartes' 
 position, as the founder of modem philosophy, is not to be 
 gainsaid. Of a rather feeble moral nature, ho lived in a 
 continual dread of unpleasant notice l>eing taken of him 
 by the Church ; his obsequiousness in this respect being 
 remarked even in an age of theological subservience. 
 This makes it ditfieult in estimating Descartes and his 
 work, to determine in some cases whether a i)articular 
 doctrine is to be attributed to mental servility or real 
 conviction. I*>ut the historian of i)liilosoi)hy must console 
 iimself with the maxim chaeun a les defauts de ses qualiies. 
 
 Caitesianism, though in the end successfui all along the 
 
 Epoch I.a.] 
 
 MALEBEANCHE. 
 
 155 
 
 line, did not pass without encountering a brisk fire of 
 adverse criticism. Descartes liimself formally replied to 
 the more im|>ortant objections raised against his system in 
 a separate work. Amongst the critics with whom he deals 
 were Ilobbes and Locke; for in addition to objections from 
 the side of Scholasticism, and the resuscitated Greek phi- 
 losophy of the Kenaissance, Descartes had to encounter 
 the contemjjorary British movement. The new system 
 made its way notwithstanding. The university of Utrecht, 
 in Holland, was the first official homo of Cartesianism. 
 But in Leyden we find the most l)rilliant series of teachers, 
 foremost among whom is Geulincx. The other Dutch 
 univcv.sities soon caught the infcctiim, and Holland, wliich 
 had long been the home of Descartes himself, became 
 the }>riucipal seed-ground of his philosophy. Clerical 
 opposition, more or less successful, there was, of course, but 
 this in the long run rather helped than hindered its ger- 
 mination. In theology, in medicine, in jliysical science, 
 Cartesianiam became tlie order of the day throughout 
 Western Europe, Great Britain exce|»ted. The philosophy 
 of Descartes was not with(»ut its influence on the decadence 
 in the belief in magic, witchcraft, and the " occult sciences," 
 which took i)lace so ra}>idly among the educated towards 
 the close of the century. Belthasar Bekker published 
 in. 1G91 his celebrated work * The Enchanted World,* 
 in which he attacked these sui)erstitions on Cartesian 
 grounds. This treatise, origiiudly ^vritten in Dutcli, had 
 not been published long before it was translated into all 
 the more important Euio]>ean languages. 
 
 The celebrated Port-Koyal Logic (Uart de penser) was 
 perhaps the ])rincipal product of Cartesianism in the land 
 of its founder's birth, upon the culture of which it made 
 a deep impression. 
 
 MALEBKANCHE. 
 
 The first successor of Descartes who can be regarded as 
 having at all developed the master's doctrines was the 
 French ecclesiastic, Nicholas Malebranchk, born at Paris 
 in 1G38. Ilia Becherche de la rt'r?7t% first published in 1674, 
 passing through six editions during the lifetime of its 
 
156 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.a. 
 
 Epoch. I.a.] 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 157 
 
 author. It was followed hj a large miniber of treatises, 
 metaphysical, theological, and ethical, ui) to the time of 
 the death of Malehraiiche, in 1715. 
 
 The main problem for Malebranche was to bridge over 
 the gnlf between the two op]>osed substances of Descartes* 
 Thought and Extenmon ; to define their relation alike to the 
 finite individual and their infinite ground. Malebranche 
 was not satisfied with the hesitating and superficial manner 
 in which Descartes had attempted to explain away the 
 diflftculties which arose on this head. The arbitrary act of 
 the Divine will by wliich perception was produced was too 
 clumsy an hypothesis for him. The celebrated saying of 
 Malebranche, that he saw " all things in God," of itself 
 indicates the link between the dualism of Descartes and 
 the Pantheism of Spinoza. To the fonner the relation of 
 the two subordinate substances alike to each other and to 
 the one infinite substance was indefinite and arbitrary. 
 Malebranche sought to give that relation a systematic basis. 
 Starting from the conception of the Infinite Being, which 
 Descartes had formulated, he brought Thought and Extenmon, 
 and through them Individuation, nearer this being, deduced 
 them more directly from this being than Descartes had 
 dared to do. Unlike Descartes, he does not separate the 
 idea or notion, from the existence, of the infinite. " We 
 conceive of the infinite being," says Malebranche, " by the 
 very fact of our conceiving of being without thinking 
 whether it be finite or not ; but that we may think of a 
 finite l)eing we are compelled to sever or deduct something 
 from the general idea of being, which we must therefore 
 possess beforehand ; thus, the mind apprehends nothing 
 whatever except in and through the idea it possesses of 
 the infinite ; so far is it from the tnith that this idea is 
 formed by the confused mass of our notions of particular 
 things, as the philosophers maintain, that on the other hand, 
 all these particular notions participate in the general idea of 
 the infinite, in the same way that all creatures imperfectly 
 participate in the Divine being, whose existence itself 
 cannot be derived from them." (Recherche III., Part IL, 
 Chap. 6). The external world is unintelligible in itself, 
 and only becomes intelligible by our perceiving it in and 
 through the being who contains it in an intelligible 
 
 III 
 w 
 
 I 
 
 manner. "Hence," says Malebranche, "unless in some 
 sense we saw God, we should see nothing else." In short, 
 our consciousness, whether of ourselves or of external 
 objects, is nothing more nor less than a limited portion of 
 the divine conseiuusness. From this doctrine of Male- 
 branche of all " things in God " to the unica mhstantm 
 of Spinoza was scarcely a step. The only modus vicendi 
 betAveen Thought and Extension, mind and body, was found 
 in the divine essence or substance ; but Malebranche not 
 merely shrank from the obvious conclusion to which all 
 his reasoning points, that of identifying them with the 
 8ur)stance, but, strange to say (that is, strange were it not 
 so common a phenomenon in history), denounces m scurri- 
 lous language the man wlio was at once honest and logical 
 enough to draw this conclusion. 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 Baruch de Spinoza, born Nov. 24, 1632, at Amsterdam, 
 belonged to a well-to-do Jewish ftimily of Portugueso 
 origin settled in Holland. Hu received a thorough educa- 
 tion in the liands of the Kabbis of his native town in all 
 that pertained to Jewish learning as then understood, 
 besides studying Latin and natural science, under other 
 teachers. I'revious reading of the semi-rationalising Jewish 
 iiliilosnphers of the Middle Ages, notably Maimonides, had 
 already given Spinoza a speculative groundwork when 
 h*.' took up the study of the works of Descartes. Spinoza 
 occn})ies a unique position at tliis time. His heterodoxy 
 had already caused his expulsion from the synagogue, and 
 he thus found liimself unpledged to any set of traditional 
 dogmas. To this fact we may attribute the perfeet freedom 
 and honesty displayed in his writings. Tlie fawning of 
 Desctirtes to Christian doctrines naturally disgusted the 
 man who had severed Iduiself from family connections, 
 social intercourse, and even risked life itself for his convic- 
 tions. But, nevertheless, the system of Sidnoza is the 
 direct and logical outcome of the princijiles enunciated by 
 Descartes. After a generally quiet and uneventful life, 
 occupied either in the pursuance of his livelihood as a 
 
158 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Erocu I.A. 
 
 Epoch I. a.] 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 159 
 
 rfass-lens polisher, or in study and writing, Spmoza died 
 at the comparatively early age of forty-hvo, m tliy > cai 
 1677 The respect witli which he was regarded by ail wlio 
 knew him is illustrated in the weU-known story ot his 
 landlady, who, aware that ho Kdonged to no rea)gnised 
 religious persuasion, asked his oi>inion as to whetliei; she 
 waJ^ justified in going to Church and otherwise lu-actismg 
 the ntes of the orthoilox Calvinistic faith. He had com- 
 imratively but few friends, but among these 8e^^ral corre- 
 spondents, notably Oldenburg, one of the founders of the 
 English Koyal Society. 
 
 Spinoza*s Doctrines. 
 
 With Spinoza the method of philosophy is identical 
 with that of mathematics. In his Ethics he places Defini- 
 tions. Axioms, and Postulates, at the head of every book. 
 The ( Jeometrical method appeared to him as the most 
 adiM.uatefor the expression of " clear and distinct ideas, 
 and as the one which most effectually excluded the 
 iMxssibility of the entrance into philosopliy of personal or 
 other bias— it was the only purely disinterested nietliod. 
 
 Hegel observes, that Spinoza, the Jew, first introduced 
 into EuroiMjan thought the conception of the absolute unity 
 in which finite and infinite are merged. It would 1)0 per- 
 haT)s more correct to say that ho was tho first to give dis- 
 tinct expression to this monistic point of view, which is 
 implicitly present in many previous thinkers. . . , ., 
 
 Spinoza distinguishes two kinds of errors to which the 
 mind is subject, those of ahsiradion %.m\ those oimmginahon, 
 Tliese two errors he finds invariably united m oinmm. An 
 abstraction means any imi)erfect conception m which 
 the elements of a wliolo are separately treated as wii(.»les. 
 rie^ir and distinct tliouglit must discern tlie necessary 
 relation of any finite thing or notion to the whole system 
 (•f things or notions. Tlds is exi>ressed m Sianozistic 
 language by wbat is termed tho distinction l)et ween mere 
 modes of sul)stanc(5 and substance itself. Tlie i)rogress of 
 knowledge necessarily limits tliis abstracting tendency. 
 Imagination einnes to the aid of al)straction m enabling 
 the mind to picture the thing without its surroundings, or 
 
 I 
 
 in other words, apart from the conditions necessary to its 
 real existence. Such conceptions as that of a talking 
 animal, a liorse with a man's head, an extended figure 
 without weight or resistance, are common and obvious 
 instances of this combined power of abstraction and imag- 
 ination. Teleological explanations of the world have their 
 root entirely in tlie foregoing tendency of the mind. " All 
 such opinions," says Spinoza, "spring from the notion, 
 commonly entertiiiiied, that all things in nature act for the 
 same reason as men themselves act, with an end in view." 
 Human will and action are abstracted from the only whole 
 of which they can form a part, namely the human being, 
 and transferred l)y the imagination to external nature, and 
 even the Aljsolute itself. The consequence of this is 
 exhiljited in religion, in the anthropomorphic conception 
 of God as having "made all things for man, and man 
 that he might worship Him." In the Appendix to the first 
 book of the Ethics, Sj^inoza demolishes this view with his 
 usual clearness and vigour. 
 
 In [)hilosophy Spinoza demands the elimination of all 
 time-relations, in other words, that the philosopher should 
 be understood as viewing the world sub specie seternitatis. 
 By this, of course, he meant that the prijvince of meta- 
 physic is to expound the world in its logical, rather than 
 its temporal sequence. Hence, the starting-point of his 
 system is not any first cause of all things in the ordinary 
 sense of the word, but that which all tilings logically pre- 
 8upi»ose ; that by means of wlii<li all other things are con- 
 ceive<l, but wliicli is in itself independent and ultimate. 
 
 In this great advance is made on Descartes, whose God 
 was little more than the first cause of the world. This un- 
 conditioned ground, the owe' suhstanre of S}>inoza. contains 
 within it the sum-total of all reality. Although he did 
 homage to current prejudices by emi.loying tho word God 
 for his conception, it is only fair to reiueml)cr that he dis- 
 tinctly disclaims using tlie word in any cnnent sense. 
 
 Er.iniann well ol)serves that those wlio connect tlio usual 
 religions significance witli the word (ii<h had better, in 
 reading Spinoza, snbstitute for it tlie word Nature. It is 
 constantly insisted upon that all things proceed lioni the 
 One Substance by the same necessity as that by which it 
 
160 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Erocii I.A. 
 
 exists, since they furm an essential part of its existence. 
 Of the infinite attributes of the infinite, eternal, and all- 
 comprehending substiwice, two only ioncern us, i.e. Thuuglit 
 and Extension. As with Descartes, they are mutually 
 opposed in every resjMJct, in aU sa\-e tlio one fact of their 
 common ground. At last the Cartesian prolilem is solved 
 in the only way possible on Cartesian principles. Tliought 
 and Extension, Mind and Body, assume for the first tmie a 
 pxsiti.in of mutual e(iuality ; while they at the same time 
 lose the last slired of ih^nr independence of the Infinite. 
 The real world is simply made up of modes of these two 
 attributes. Uy mode, 8i»inoza understands that which 
 exists through something else, or wdiich is the determi- 
 nation of something else. There are eternal modes, by 
 which is probably meant the necessary determinations of 
 things tenned by us laws of nature, and individual or 
 finite things. As, howtjver, the place, of individuals in 
 Spinoza's system is not unol»scure, we give some of his 
 utterances on this head in liis own words. In Proi>osition 
 Xxiii. of IVt I. of the Ethics, we read, " Every mode, which 
 exists both necessarily and as infinite 7nust necessarily follow 
 either from the absolute nature of some attribute of God or 
 from an attribute modified by a modification which exists 
 necessarily and as infinite. Proof. A mode exists in some- 
 thing else through whicli it must be conceived (I)ef. v.), 
 that is (Prop, x v.), it exists solely in God, and solely through 
 God can be conceived. If, therefore, a mode is conceiveil as 
 necessarily existing, and infinite, it must necessarily l)0 
 inferred or perceived through some attrilmte of (iod, in so 
 far as such attribute is conceived as exi)ressing the infiiiity 
 and necessity of existence, in other words (Def. viii.), 
 eternally ; that is, in so far as it is considered abs( .hitcly ." 
 " A mode therefore wliich necessarily exists as infinite must 
 follow from the al»solute nature of some attribute of God, 
 either immediately ( I'lop. xxi.), or through the means of 
 some m* nlification 'which follows from the absolute nature 
 of the said attribute; tliat is (by Vn >p. xxii.) whi.h exists 
 necessarily and as infinite (Pro}». xxiv.). The es^rnre^ of 
 things produced by God dms not tuvolte existence. Proof. Tliis 
 proi»osition is evident from I >ef. i. For that of wliicli the 
 nature considered in itself involves existence is self-caused. 
 
 Eroai I.A.] 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 161 
 
 and exists by the sole necessity of its own nature. 
 Corollary. Hence, it follows that God is not only the 
 cause of things coming into existence, but also of their 
 continuing in existence, that is, in scholastic phraseology, 
 Gcxl is cause of the being of things (Essendi rerum). For 
 whether things exist or do not exist, whenever we contem- 
 plate their essence, we see that it involves neither existence 
 nor duration ; consequently it cannot be the cause of either 
 the one or the other. God must be the sole cause, in as much 
 as to Him alone does existence appertain. (Prop. xiv. 
 Corollary 1.) Q.E.D. (Prop, xxv.) God is the efficient cause 
 not only of the existence of things but also of their essence. 
 Proof, if this be denied, then God is not the cause of the 
 essence of things ; and therefore, the essence of things can 
 (by Ax. IV.) l)e conceived without God. This by Prop. xv. 
 is absurd. Therefore God is the cause of the essence of 
 things. Q.E.D. Note. This proposition follows more 
 clearly from Prop. xvi. for it is evident thereby, that 
 given the Divine nature, the essence of things must be 
 inferred from it no less than their existence— in a word, 
 God must be called the cause of all things in the same 
 sense as he is called the cause of Himself. This will be 
 made still clearer by the following corollaiy. Corollary. 
 Individual things are nothing l)ut modifications of the 
 attributes of God, or modes by which the attributes of 
 God are expressed in a fixed and definite manner."* 
 
 It will be sufficiently evident to the reader that Spinoza 
 has only carried to its consistent issue the Cartesian prin- 
 ciple which Malebranche had indeed enunciated, but with- 
 out admitting its full bearing, namely, that unless we 
 knew the Infinite, or God, we could know nothing else, 
 inasmuch as the human mind is simply a modification of 
 the Divine Substance. The idea of this absolute unity 
 is involved in the idea of every particular thing, and the 
 only reason ordinary men are unable to discover it is 
 because their ideas are confused, in short, because, owing 
 to the illusions of sense and imagination, they are unable 
 to arrive at a clear and distinct idea of anything. 
 
 • Now and always 
 Spinoza's workd by Air 
 Library.* 
 
 I quote from the excellent translation of 
 . Elwes, published in * Bohn'a Philosophical 
 
 H 
 
1G2 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.a. 
 
 Spinoza insists on the parallellism between the world- 
 order in Thought and the world-order in Extension. *' 1 he 
 order and eonneetion of idem" he says (Ethics, Prop, vii.), 
 **t« the same as the order and connection of things. ^ ihi» 
 is as much as to siiy the One Substance may be viewed 
 either as thinkin- or as extended. " Whatsoever follows 
 from the infinite nature of God in the world of extension 
 (formaliter), follows without excej.tion in the same order 
 and connection from the idea of God in the world ot 
 thought {fA)jeetwey' And again: "Substance thinking 
 and subsranco extended are one and the same substance, 
 comprehended now through one attribute and now 
 through the other." " In ttie same way the mode of ex- 
 tension and the idea of that mode are one and^ the same 
 thing, though exjirossed in two ways. For instance, a 
 circle existing in nature and the idea of a circle existing, 
 wliich is also in God, are one and the same thing displayed 
 through ditferent attributes. Thus whether we consider 
 nature under the attribute of extension, or under the 
 attril)ute of thought, or under any other attribute,^ we 
 shaU find the same order, and one and the same chain of 
 caixees— that is, the same things following m either case. 
 " I said that God is the cause of an idea— for instance, 
 of the idea of circle— in so far as He is a thinking thing, 
 and of a circle in so far as He is an extended thing, 
 simply because the actual being of the idea of a circle 
 can only be perceived as a proximate cause througlt 
 another mode of thinking, and that again, through an<jther, 
 and so on to infinity ; so that so long as we consider 
 things as modes of thinking, we must explain the order 
 of the whole of nature, or the whole chain ut causes, 
 through the attribute of thought only. And in so far as 
 we consider things as modes of extension, we must explain 
 the order of the whole of nature through the attribute of 
 extension only ; and so on in the case of other attributes. 
 AVherefore of things as they are in themselves, God is 
 really the cause, inasmuch as He consists of infinite 
 attributes. I cannot for the present explain my meaning 
 
 more clearly." 
 
 The impressions of the senses and the mind, namely, 
 that which in the world of thought corresponds to the 
 
 Epoch I.a.] 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 1G3 
 
 particular or finite modifications of extension, are termed 
 affectionvs. There has been much discussion among 
 students of Spinoza as to the relation of the attributes 
 to the individual mind. In his definition of attributes, 
 Spinoza says (I. Def. iv.) : "By attribute I mean that 
 which the intellect perceives as constituting the essence 
 of substance." This has been by some interpreted in the 
 sense of Psychological Idealism, as implying that the 
 attributes are simply the marks by which the One Sub- 
 stance is individualised in the finite mind, or by which 
 it becomes aware of itself. According to this view, the 
 attiil)utes are not essential distinctions in tlie substance 
 itself, but only indicate its nature to the reflecting intellect, 
 that is, they are the form under which the latter appre- 
 hends it. On the other hand, there are Spinozists who 
 strenuously deny this phenomenal acceptation of the 
 doctrine, and maintain tliat the attributes represent a 
 noumenal fact. For the first of tliese views, it may be 
 alleged that Spinoza in his definition (Def. iv.) when he 
 refers to the perceiving intellect, seems to make an inten- 
 tional deviation from Descartes, who speaks of the attribute 
 simply as constituting the essence of the substance. The 
 second view, on the other hand, is supported by the asser- 
 tion of the infinity of attributes. We suspect that the 
 point was one upon which Spinoza was not very clear 
 himself; alt-o that here, as elsewhere in the ('artesian 
 Fchool, the effects of the reaction against scholasticism 
 which was manifested in the neglect of Aristotelian dis- 
 tinctions, is responsible for much ambiguity, and possibly 
 some confusion of thought. 
 
 Extension is spoken of by Spinoza as infinite, no less 
 than Thought; but the relation of the unconditioned 
 to the conditioned form of these attributes is imperfectly 
 indicated. All limitation must be abstracted from the 
 attributes conceived as natura naiurans, and this applies 
 as much to thought as to extension ; hence, God is no 
 more to be conceived as will, which is only a particular 
 limitati«>n of thought, than He is to be conceived as 
 body, which is only a particular limitation of extension. 
 Spinoza distinctly repudiates (Ethics, Part II. Prop. xLiii.) 
 any such thing as an unconscious idea; he carefully warns 
 
 M 2 
 
164 MODERN PHILOSOrHY. [ErocH I.A. 
 
 ns a.'aiMt understanding by idea a mere P'«*»tJP'',;;;; J"^^' 
 Irf^™ enter into consciousnesB, and demands that we 
 can never enwi im,Kj ^ ♦iwmo-ht Inasinucn 
 
 should regard it as a conscious act of thought Y„Vit is 
 as the One Substance is the foundation ot »" ^ "^j "^_ 
 ?he foundation of corporeal no less than of » ^''^^^r 
 cesses Every such process is conditioned by another 
 cessex. x. L y .„' ther and so on to infinity, (beo 
 
 6uch, and that by anoiner, auu » r^nr^^^T» onlv in 
 
 quotation, p If V-C-lo havTZSy rn that tLro 
 the same attribute, f;^ J^^^^J^/Hhe other ; no mo«. 
 from" tC^nt^r; rcorJorTX tlan from the corporeal 
 Thetr^ iy Spinoza'i rigid division it -eedkss to 
 say all idealist explanations in physics, >«> !«?» ♦'l*" '^' 
 Zerialist explanations in psychology, are exeluded 
 
 ofK^^rw^werrSpiZ:^^^^^^ 
 |ut)lifiLtionsofJ.dy^^^^^^ 
 
 XrdlXS -a^ th^the Bamething^s viewed 
 
 ^^^ «^« cf+rihntG HOW Under another, ine mina 
 
 rTotlt Zre "hanl^'e" - of the body, but inasmuch 
 
 18 nothing more ^ ^^^^^ ^^ thought-activity, the idea 
 
 l,.^ms IS a conscLsU of *)?« --^,-?*^.tte"i^e^" f 
 np the reflected knowledge of this act, that w. the idea ot 
 this idea which is nothing other than the %dea menm. 
 tZt ^ the modification of extension, or body, of which 
 fhe r'lor empirical world ---^; « .^-"f ^* j^^^^^a^^^ 
 differences of rest and motion-in short, ^ T '" „f Cv 
 wSv is a determinate system of the modifications of body 
 body 18 a deiermiimi, J . . ^ j determinate 
 
 or extension— so an individual minu w ° ., q,. 
 
 system of the modifications of thought, %.e. of ideas. 1 he 
 Irld of eternal modes, or na(«ra r^urata. rougUy 
 rmsBonds to the world of Ideas in Platonic systems 
 ThT Sra mturata is, of course, also to be conceived 
 under the dual attribute. It consists of mohon mdreit, 
 and what Slrinoza terms the intelUctn» infimius Just as 
 ZtiZand^^ contains the possibility of the aerial 
 r^rJl wU in its entirety, so thyntelUc^ ».>.- 
 l.« is the complex of aU ideas and minds, t.e. the possi- 
 1" ity of thfLtual ideal world in Hs entirety^ Just as 
 every individual body is conditioned by nwt„m and re»t. 
 
 Epoch La.] 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 165 
 
 so is every individual mind conditioned by tlie intellecius 
 iafinitus,* 
 
 Inasmuch as Spinoza regards man merely as a portion 
 of nature, his Anthropology and Ethics are one. Man's 
 bodily slate is conditioned by the bodies which surround 
 him, his milieu, as it might now be expressed. He is at 
 once active and passive. His activity is continually 
 obstructed and affected by his surroundings, and his 
 whole career is a continuous striving to realise himself, 
 or, which is the same thing, to assert his own being, 
 against this obstruction. The consciousness of 8tri\m«:; 
 is primarily appetite or desire, which leads, according 
 as the struggle fails or succeeds in any particular in- 
 stance, to joy and sorrow ; hope and fear being further 
 modifications of these fundamental emotions {passiones). 
 With the passions are directly connected the conceptions 
 of good and evil, which can have no meaning in any other 
 than a human relation. The propo.-ition, " this is good 
 for me,*' is perfectly justified, but not so the proposition, 
 "this is good" (absolutely). The presence, with the 
 emotion of joy or sorrow, of the ideaoi the object causing 
 it, produces love or hatred. 
 
 The result of Spinoza's Ethics proper (contained in 
 the third part of the treatise under that name, the first 
 two parts being purely metaphysical), which, as we 
 before said, is identical with his Anthropology, is in 
 many points similar to that of his contemporary, Helvetius. 
 He is a rigid necessarian, and pure disinterestedness he 
 regards as an illusion, since man acts according to the 
 dictates of his nature, the stimulus to action in men 
 being only possible to be mortified or destroyed by a 
 stronger stimulus. This of course forms the foundation 
 for Si»inoza'8 political theory. Spinoza was the first 
 consistent advocate of universal toleration, although 
 he does not recognise formally the "rights of man" 
 as such. Like most political theorists of the seven- 
 teenth century, all his hypotheses were based on the as- 
 
 • Between the individual mind, with its manifold of reality, and the 
 ptire und. terniined attribute <»f thought, stands the determinatiun of 
 this iittribute as Infinite Intellect, i.e. as compiehendiuj^ under ita 
 eternal modes the infinite complexity of the real world. 
 
164 MODERN PHILOSOPHT. [Epoch I.a. 
 
 „sagainrtnnae«ta„ding.^ideaa^ 
 
 asThe O^'e St.b«tance is the foundation ot »» ^"^Sj '^^^ 
 Ii T \rZt{nn of corporeal no less than of mental pro 
 the fo.mdat,on "f «°^P°^*^ j, conditioned by another 
 
 Sr-and^l^ft ?"y another -trth!: '^^^-J-^^fZ 
 
 ^noTssinT^- -nT^he one to tl^ other; nom^ 
 f^.^ fhe Te'ntal to the corporeal, than froxn he - J-^ 
 to the mental. By Spinoza's ngid division it s "eemess w 
 ^v all idealist explanations in physics, no less than all 
 
 SerillHrexplana'nons in l'«y«h»l"gy- -« ^^e tS'ciples 
 
 Tiimiuir now to natura naiurata, we find the pnncipies 
 
 „f the conwll world were, to Spinoza, rest and motion. 
 
 itSns of Wy^h; -rihu- t^h-loei^ -d^ 
 
 n^^nder one atfribute, now under «»°then . ^>"^,^;1 
 
 is nothing more than tl^« ^^ea of the Wy, bu^^ 
 
 as an idea is only a product of tno^K*^* ^^"r'; ^ :^v^„^i 
 
 l^rpori, is a conscious act of t^« """^,^£.1,^^ £ of 
 rrrfiht^ Tftflocted knowleclgc of this act, tliat is, xq© iut.» ui 
 Th'is" whfch is nothing "f- .^han the^^ea^^^- 
 Just as the moclification of extension or M) . ot^wh,cU 
 
 the real or empirical world ««""f ^^ .^^^,"|^\Xid„'S 
 differences of rest and motion— m short, as *» "'*"•'" 
 K.dv is a determinate system of the modifications of IwJy 
 ^ *Ltinn ^ an individual mind is a determinate 
 or extension — so an iuui««"u» „f;^ftas The 
 
 BVRtj^m of the modifications of thought, i.e. ot ideas, ine 
 wolTd of eternal modes, or nalura naturata, roughly 
 To^eswnds to the world of Ideas in Platonic systems. 
 tC Sr« mturata is, of course, also to be conceived 
 under ?ho dual attribute. It consists of mo ton andrest^ 
 
 :"d what Spinoza terms ^\f;"^^^^gTJTL^l 
 motion and rest contains the possiDimy oi •"^^ , 
 ^™l world in its entirety, so the ,ntellecU^ ^^fi^- 
 ««, uX complex of aU ideas and minds, x.e. the possi- 
 ;"M f ti;r Ltiial ideal world in its entirety. Just as 
 e'v^rj i«i:ltdy is rnditioned by mo«o„ and ru,. 
 
 Epoch I.a.] 
 
 SPINOZA. 
 
 165 
 
 so is every individual mind conditioned by tlie intellectus 
 itifinitus.* 
 
 Inasmuch as Spinoza regards man merely as a portion 
 of nature, his Anthropology and Ethics are one. Man's 
 bodily slate is conditioned by the bodies which surround 
 him, his milieu, as it might now be expressed. He is at 
 once active and passive. His activity is continually 
 obstructed and affected by his surroundings, and his 
 whole career is a continuous striving to realise himself, 
 or, which is the same thing, to assert his own being, 
 against this obstruction. The consciousness of stri\ in;? 
 is primarily appetite or desire, which leads, accor(iing 
 as the struggle fails or succeeds in any particular in- 
 stance, to joy and sorrow ; hope and fear being further 
 modifications of these fundamental emotions (passiones). 
 With the passions are directly connected the conceptions 
 (»f good and evil, which can have no meaning in any other 
 than a human relation. The propo>ition, " this is good 
 for me," is perfectly justified, but not so the proposition, 
 "this is good" (absolutely). The presence, with the 
 emotion of joy or sorrow, of the ideaoi the object causing 
 it, produces love or hatred. 
 
 The result of Spinoza's Ethics proper (contained in 
 the tliird part of the treatise under that name, the first 
 two parts being purely metaphysical), which, as we 
 before said, is identical with his Anthropology, is in 
 many points similar to that of his contemporary, Helvetius. 
 He is a rigid necessarian, and pure disinterestedneiss he 
 regards as an illusion, since man acts according to the 
 dictates of his nature, the stimulus to action in men 
 being only possible to be mortified or destroyed by a 
 stronger stimulus. This of course forms the foundation 
 for Spinoza's political theory. Spinoza was the fir.st 
 consistent advocate of universal toleration, although 
 he does not recognise formally the "rights of man" 
 as such. Like most political theorists of the seven- 
 teenth century, all his hypotheses were based on the as- 
 
 * Between the indivi(huil mind, with its manifold of reaUty, and the 
 pure und. terniined attribute of thought, stands the determination of 
 this attrilmte as Intiiiite hitellect, i.e. as comprehendiu^ under its 
 eternal modes the infinite complexity of tlie real world. 
 
166 
 
 MODERN nilLOSOPIIY. 
 
 [Epoch La, 
 
 sumption of the incurable stupidity of the many ; but he at 
 the same time regards that state as most secure in which 
 there is the greatest amount of personal liberty. The 
 great truth which the present century has brought to 
 light of the dependence of the political and other forms of 
 society upon its economical conditions had not then 
 dawned, any more than the truth that the social organism 
 obeys certain definite laws of development just as does 
 the animal organism. 
 
 Apart from tliis, however, perhaps what strikes one 
 moht in reading Spinoza is the modernness of his style and 
 standpoint as a»mpared with other seventeenth-century 
 thinkers. There are i)assages in the " Tractatus Theologico- 
 politiuus," as well as in the " Ethics," which might have oeen 
 written by a modern scientist. As an instance of Spinoza's 
 capacity for Hcioutitic exposition, wo quote a passage from 
 a remarkable letter of his to Oldenburg. He is endeavour- 
 ins; to explain to Oldenburg tlie principle that every part 
 of nature agrees with the whole, and is associated with 
 all other parts: **Let usinuigine, with your permission, a 
 little worm, living; in the bl >o<l, able to distinguish by sight 
 the particles of blood, l}'mph, &q., and to reflect on the 
 manner in which eacli particle, on meeting with another 
 particle, either is rei>ulsi!<l or communicates a portion of 
 its own motion. This little worm would live in the 
 blo(xl, in the same way as we live in a part of the universe, 
 and would consider each drop of bluod, not as a part, but 
 as a whole. He would be unable to determine how all 
 the parts are niodifiotl by the general nature of blood, and 
 are compelled by it to adajit themsfdves, so as to stand in 
 a fixed relation to one another. For, if we imagine that 
 there are no causes external to the blood, which could 
 communicate fresh movements to it, nor any space beyond 
 the blood, nor any Iwdies whereto the particles of blood 
 could communicate their motion, it is certain that the 
 blood would always remain in the same state, and its 
 |)articles would undergo no modifications, save those 
 which may be conceived as arising from the relations of 
 motion existing between the lymph, the chyle, &c. Tho 
 blood would then always have to Ije considered as a whole, 
 not a part. But, as there exist, as a matter of fact, very 
 
 Erocn I. a.] 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 167 
 
 many causes, which modify, in a given manner, the nature 
 of the blood, and are, in turn, modified thereby, it follows 
 that other motions and other relations arise in the 
 blood, springing not from the mutual relations of its 
 parts only, but from the mutual relations between tlie 
 blood as a whole and external causes. Tlius the blood 
 comes to be regarded as a part, not as a whole. So much 
 for the whole and the part.*' 
 
 In many points Spinoza anticipates Kant, but his funda- 
 mental conception is still abstract. The Unica Substantia 
 is, after all, at bottom, the Being-in-general of the Carte- 
 sians and of Malebranche. His system is an ontology, 
 and an ontology, too, in which all traces of " theory of 
 knowledge,'* as such, are absent. 
 
 Spinozism found an immediate success in Holland. 
 Numerous works appeared, some containing views ob- 
 viously drawn from the Ethics, others attacking those 
 views. About the close of the seventeenth century, it 
 appears to have gained some ground in France. 
 
 Spinoza's is the only pre-Kantian system which has 
 been revived in modem times. In fact, the interest in 
 Spinoza dates mostly from Goethe and Schleiermacher. 
 The works which have been published during the last 
 half-century, dealing with the Dutch thinker, would fill a 
 library. There are not wanting, at the present day, men 
 of eminence who declare that in him is contained the 
 fulness of modern science manifested. With Spinoza 
 closes tho main line of Cartesian development. ^ We now 
 proceed to consider a subsidiary branch springing from 
 the same stem. 
 
 Anions recent Englisli works treating: of Spinoza and his philo- 
 enphy may be raentit.ne<l, Willis's * Spinoza, his Life, Letters and 
 Ethics,' Frederick Follwk's ' Life and Work.s of Spinoza,' Murtme lu's 
 * Spinoza,' vtc, &c. The German works ou the subject are numerous 
 and well-known. 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 GoTTFiuED WiLHELM Leibnitz was bom, 1046, at Leipsic, 
 and was educated in the university of that town. An 
 omnivorous reader, he early attained considerable ac- 
 
168 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch Ijl. 
 
 qnaintance with the history of philosophy. In Jena, 
 where he subsequently studied, he read Hobbes and Locke, 
 in addition to Kepler, Galilei, and other scientific writers. 
 His journey to Paris, though it failed in its immediate 
 purpose of inducing Louis XIV. to undertake an Egyptian 
 expedition, had as its result the mathematical education 
 of Leibnitz. It was in Paris, in 1676, that he discovered 
 the dififerential calculus. Here, also, he first began 
 seriously to study Descartes and Spinoza. In 1684, 
 Leibnitz removed to Berlin, and shortly after undertook 
 a lenj^thened archaeological expedition to Italy. On his 
 return to Berlin, he became president of the newly con- 
 stituted Prussian Academy, as well as the occupant of a 
 diplomatic post. With the death of the Queen of Prussia 
 in 1711, his connection with Berlin ceased. He died in 
 Vienna, in 1716, loaded with honours. The latter part of 
 his life is said to have been embittered by his quarrels 
 with the Newtonians. 
 
 Leibnitz's Doctrines. 
 
 In philosophy Leibnitz stands in one sense at the 
 opposite pole to Spinoza. Ho is chief representative of 
 what is commonly known as Pluralism in metaphysic, i.e. 
 he regards individuation as an ultimate and irreducible 
 fact. The result of Leibnitz's scientific studies had led 
 him early to accept the atomistic theory of the ultimate 
 constitution of matter. This atomism he carried into 
 the sphere of metaphysic. To Leibnitz, substance was 
 infinitely many. The infinitely numerous eternal, and 
 simple substances, unities, or forces, as they may perhaps 
 with equal right be termed, Leibnitz designates monads, 
 a word originally employed by Bruno. The monads being 
 simple, could only come into being by creation, or cease 
 from being by annihilation, and besides them nothing 
 exists. Although destitute of parts, extension, figure, 
 or divisibility, they must, nevertheless, have qualities, 
 "otherwise," says Leibnitz, "they would not even be 
 entities ; and if simple substances did not differ in their 
 qualities, there would be no means by which we could 
 l>ecome aware of the changes of things, since all that is in 
 compound bodies is derived from simple ingredients ; and 
 
 Epoch I.a.I 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 169 
 
 mmads, being without qualities, would be indistinguishable 
 one from another, seeing also that they did not differ in 
 quantity." Every monad must difi"er from every other, 
 for Leibnitz postulates the axiom that "there are never 
 two beings in nature perfectly alike, and m which it is 
 impossible to find an internal difference, or one founded 
 on intrinsic determination." „ ^ ., .. ,.«. r 
 
 But the metaphysical monads of Leibnitz differ from 
 the physical atoms of Demokritos, in that they are de- 
 termined by an internal principle of change, and are 
 uninfluenced by anything external to themselves. But 
 besides the principle of change," proceeds Leibnitz, 
 " there must also be a detail of changes, embracing, so 
 to speak, the specification and the variety of simple 
 substances. This detail must involve multitude m 
 uuity or in simplicity, for as all natural changes 
 proceed by degrees, something changes and something 
 remains, and consequently, there must be in the simple sub- 
 stance a plurality of affections or relations, although there 
 are no parts." (Monadologie, 12, 13.) The section which 
 follows is interesting as characteristic of Leibnitz s mode 
 of thought, and as showing the first distinct enunciation 
 of a doctrine which has played a not unimportant part m 
 subsequent speculation— that of the nnconsciouj per- 
 ception or idea. " This shifting state, which involves and 
 represents multitude in unity, or in the simple substance, 
 is nothing else than what we call perception, which must 
 be carefully distinguished from ajyperceptwn, or conscious- 
 ness, as will appear in the sequel. Here it is that the 
 Cartesians have specially failed, making no account ot 
 those perceptions of which we are not conscious. It is 
 this that has led them to suppose that spirits are the only 
 monads, and that there are no souls of brutes or other 
 Entelechies. It is owing to this that they have vulgarly 
 confounded protracted torpor with actual death, and have 
 fallen in with the scholastic prejudice, which postulates 
 souls entirely separate. Hence, also, ill-affected minds 
 have been confirmed in the opinion that the soul is 
 
 Leibnitz, of course, strenuously opposes all mechanical 
 explanations of perception. "If we imagine a machine 
 
170 
 
 MODEEN PHILOSOI'HY. 
 
 [Epoch I.a. 
 
 80 constructed;' be says, "as to produce thought, 
 sensation, perception, we may conceive it magnitiecl 
 —the same proportions being preserved— to such an 
 extent that one liiigl't enter it like a null. This 
 being supposed, we should find in it, on each inspection, 
 only i»iece8 whicli im}iel each other, but nothing which 
 can explain perception. It is in the simple substance, 
 therefore— not in tlie compound, or in niacliinery— that 
 we must look for tliat i)henomenon ; and in the simple 
 substance we find nothing else— nothing, that is, but 
 perceptions and their changes. Therein also, and therein 
 only, consist all the internal acts of simple substances. 
 Leibnitz recognises a progression or hierarchy among the 
 monads, from the simple monad which is purely unconscious 
 or confused, to the monad which has attained to self- 
 consciousness or clearness. The term soul he would 
 reserve fur the latter. When we are in a profound and 
 dreamless sleep, or in a swoon, " the soul does not dilfer 
 sensibly from tlie simple monad ; but since this state is 
 not permanent, and since the soul delivers herself from it, 
 she 18 something more." In much of this we see Leibnitz 
 as a true successor of Descartes ; the Cartesian distinction 
 between confused and clear perception being made nou- 
 menal. The impossiljility of the entire absence of 
 perception in the thinking subject here receives a new 
 application, in so far as perception is formally distinguished 
 from consciousness. If there were no distinction in our 
 perceptions, we should continue for ever in a state of 
 stupor : " and this," adds Leibnitz, *' is the condition of 
 the naked mona.i." " Where there is a great number of 
 minute perceptions, but where nothing is distinct, one is 
 stunned, as when we turn round and round in continual 
 succe^^sion in the same direction, wlience arises a vertigo 
 which may cause us to faint, and which prevents us from 
 distinguishing anything." ^ 
 
 Memory, according to Leibnitz, gives to the soul a 
 consecutive action, but must be distinguished from leason. 
 Leibnitz is prepared to reci.gnise a largo measure of truth 
 in the English Empiricist school. Memory, or the 
 consecutiveness of percei)tions, is shared in common by 
 men and animals. It is the scientific reason which 
 
 Ei'ocn I. A.] 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 171 
 
 especially distinguishes man. The distinction between 
 empirical knowledge derived from the ibrmer source, and 
 that derived from the latter, is illustrated by the following 
 familiar instance : when we expect the sun to rise to- 
 morrow, we judge so empirically, because it has always 
 done so hitherto; but the astronomer makes the same 
 judgment by an act of reason. In the same way the 
 difference between a quack and a physician consists in the 
 fact that the one has only practice, or knowledge picked 
 up in a casual way to rely upon, while the other derives 
 his knowledge from scientific theory. The celebrated 
 proposition directed by Leibnitz against Locke, " nihil est 
 m intellectu quod non prius in sensu fuerit, nisi ipse in- 
 teUectus,'" expresses in a sentence this cardinal distinction 
 between empirical and necessary truth. 
 
 The God of Leibnitz is the supreme monad or primitive 
 unity, the simple original sub:stan(;e of which all the 
 created or derived monads are the products, and which 
 are generated, '*so to speak, by continual fulgurations of 
 the divinity from moment to moment, bounded by the 
 receptations of the creature of whose existence limitation 
 is an essential condition." Like the God of the schoolman, 
 he is actus purus, to which the created monads approach in 
 varying degrees, "accoiding to the measure of their 
 perfection." Tlio created monads can only act upon one 
 another through the medium of the divine monad. It is 
 only through it that one can be dependent upon the other. 
 Leibnitz bases his optimism on the principle of sufficient 
 reason. The principle of sufficient reason declares that 
 no fact can bo " real, or existent, no statement true, unless 
 there be a sufficient reason why it is thus, and not other- 
 wise, although these reasons very often cannot be known 
 to us." This principle leads us to infer that since out of 
 the infinite numljer of possible worlds, this one has been 
 created by the Divine mind, it must contain within it the 
 greatest possible measure of i)erfection. " And this con- 
 nection, or this accommodation of all created things to 
 each, and of each to all, implies in each simple substance 
 relations which express all tlie rest. Each, accordingly, 
 is a living and perpetual mirror of the universe. And as 
 the same city viewed t'rum different sides appears quite 
 
172 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.a. 
 
 different, and is perspectively multiplied, so, in the infinite 
 multitude of simple substances, there are given, as it 
 were, so many different worlds which yet are only per- 
 spectives of a single one, according to the different points 
 of view of each monad. And this is tl.e way to obtain 
 the greatest possible variety with the greatest possible 
 order: that is to say, the way to obtain the greatest 
 possible perfection." Every monad contains the infinity 
 of being in itself. It would lose nothing if all other 
 monads were destroyed, nor gain anything if they could 
 act upon it. The monad is a self-sufficient microcosm, 
 and an omniscient eye might see in its present state the 
 whole past and future of the universe. " But each soul 
 can read in itself only that which is distinctly represented 
 in it. It cannot unfold its laws at ouce, for they reach 
 into the infinite." Every organic body is a species of 
 « divine machine," surpassing all human mechanisms by the 
 infinite complexity of its relations. Each portion of matter 
 expresses the universe; that is, each portion of matter 
 has its special formation energy or soul. " Every particle of 
 matter," say Leibnitz, " may he conceived as a garden full 
 of plants, or as a pond full of fishes. But each branch of 
 each plant, each member of each animal, each drop of their 
 humours, is in its turn another such garden or pond. 
 Death, chaos, and barrenness, exist only in appearance, 
 owing to the imperfection of our point of view. It must 
 not be supposed, however, that each entelechy, force, or 
 soul, has a special portion of matter for ever united with 
 it ; for all bodies are in a perpetual flux, like rivers, their 
 particles for ever coming and going. " That which we 
 call generation is development and accretion, and that 
 which we call death is envelopment and diminution." 
 There is no destruction either of the soul or the body, 
 Btrictly speaking. They each follow their proper laws, 
 and coincide by virtue of the " pre-established harmony," 
 which exists between all substances as representations of 
 one and the same universe. Leibnitz maintains that had 
 Descartes known the laws of motion, he would have been 
 led to discover this principle of the "pre-established 
 harmony," by which, to (luote hin words, ** bodies act as 
 if there were no souk, and souls act as if there vero 
 
 Epoch I.a.] 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 173 
 
 no bodies ; and yet both act as if the one influenced the 
 
 ''^ThCforegoing exposition we have taken al°io«t yerbatim 
 
 from the summVv of his system, ^^^^'\X^'^^^^r^^^ 
 1714, for rrince Eugene of Savoy, and published after his 
 death as the " Monadology." The inconsistency and 
 mutual incompatibility of several of the mam positions 
 taken up are apparent at a glance. Leibnitz is emphat c 
 in declaring that the monads have "no windows while 
 Lt the same time postulating a direct relation be ween 
 them and the supreme monad, and an indirect relation 
 with one another. It is difficult to see, on Leibnitzian 
 principles, how psychological idealism is to be avoided^ 
 5^he self-centred microcosm ex hypothesi knows only ite 
 own universe. In this it is absolute y shut up. How 
 then has it any right to pronounce on the absolute nature 
 of things outside this universe? It may be quite true 
 that other self-centred monads may exist as tbe centres ot 
 different worlds, but of them it <^^«,^«^.f ««^f y,^^^^ 
 anything. Those who postulate a plurality of ultimate 
 world-principles can never logically answer the questions 
 ^sed by " theoiT of knowledge." Leibnitz is involved m 
 additional difficulties by his theism, and above all, by his 
 attempts to render his system compatible with theolopcal 
 orthodoxy. A hierarchy of self-centered and essentially 
 independent beings, extending from the lowest sentiency 
 to the highest consciousness, may be a pretty and s> m- 
 metrical conception, but will certainly not bear the test 
 of criticism, as an explanation of the universe. 
 
 But Leibnitz, who after aU was more of a litterateur 
 than a philosopher, gives ^b, nevertheless, many a^^^^^^ 
 Bucrgestions and able pieces of analysis m his writings. 
 Hif individualist Pluralism he was fond of placmg in 
 opposition to Spinoza's Monism, when charged with the 
 latter by thinkers too logical to conceive tbe possibih y of 
 a serious thinker treating individuation as an ultimate 
 
 "^Snitrof course, admits freedom of the will, but his 
 freedom is neither absolute indifference nor is it determi- 
 nation without motive. It is a free choice of one line of 
 conduct rather than another from among two or more 
 
174 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOniY 
 
 [Epoch La. 
 
 Epoch I.a.] 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 175 
 
 that are, physically speaking, equally possible. God alone 
 is absolutely free. Human freedom merely means that 
 the determination of the will is continsent upon the 
 character. In this sense, " the understanding may deter- 
 mine the will according to the prevalence of perceptions 
 and reasons of one kind whicli, since it is certain and 
 infallible, may incline without necessitating it {Nouveaux 
 Emais, XXI.). In a certain sense, a ball might be said to be 
 free after it has been struck by a racquet, in so far as its 
 movement is not hindered. In another sense, the motion 
 of the ball is contingent, in other words, not free. 
 
 Leibnitz warns the student against the misuse of the 
 Cartesian principle of "clearness and distinctness" in 
 idea, as a test of truth. Very often that appears to us 
 clear and distinct, which is really dark and confused. 
 The test of cleaniess and distinctness is only applicable 
 when it is tbe result of exact observation and faultless 
 deduction. As we have seen, in one sense notliing is clear 
 and distinct ; for example, our perception of matter is in 
 its nature confused : matter which is composed of au 
 infinity of unextended substances, to our perception 
 appears as a continuously extended whole. . , . - 
 
 Leibnitzianism is in every sense the logical antithesis of 
 Spinozism. To Spinoza there existed naught but the one 
 substance and its modes; to Leibnitz existence comprised 
 an infinity of monads and their perceptions. To Spinoza, 
 extension is an ultimate fact, co-relative with thought ; to 
 Leibnitz it is an illusion due to confused apprehension. 
 To Spinoza, all teleological explanations are to be rigidly 
 excluded in philosophy ; to Leibnitz, they form an integral 
 part of its method. To Spinoza, philosophy had no part 
 nor lot with theology ; to Leibnitz, the justification of 
 theology is its end and aim. Leibnitz was essentially an 
 eclectic ; an eclectic in religion (he had sought, as one of 
 the great objects of his life, to find a modus vivendi between 
 the Catholic and Protestant churches) ; an eclectic in philo- 
 sophy, an eclectic in science, and last of all, an eclectic iu 
 his attempts to reconcile philosophy and theology. 
 
 The somewhat flashy system of Leibnitz, as was natu- 
 ral, made an immediate and widely extended impres^ion 
 
 C 
 
 on the culture of Europe. It almost entirely superseded 
 Cartesianism in the university and m the salon and 
 indeed was the dominant academical philosophy ot the 
 Continent until the time of Kant, if not m its original 
 form, in one but slightly modified. 
 
 We pass over intermediate writers, and come to t hristian 
 Wolff, the first follower of Leiljnitz who erected an inde- 
 pendent system on the principles of the master. \\ oltt 
 was born in 1679 at Breslau, and became, m 1706, professor 
 of mathematics in Halle. He subsequently entered upon 
 a professorship at Marburg, but owing to alleged heretical 
 tendencies in his doctrines he was recalled, and retired 
 
 as being tlie nrst acaaemicai uuni^vi wii.^ »xv..v. -.^ -— - 
 He was the author of a large number of works dealing 
 with every department of philosui)hy. He attempted 
 to combine Leibnitzianism with tlie older Aristotelian 
 doctrines of the schools. The pre-established harmony he 
 regards simply as an admissible hypothesis. He also 
 denies the unconscious perception of Leibnitz, that is, ne 
 refuses to admit perception in any monads below the rank 
 of the Leibnitzian soul. On the other hand, he adheres to 
 the optimism of his master no less than to his doctrine ot 
 the will. His division of philosophy into Ontology, or the 
 doctrine of being in general ; Rational Psychology, or the 
 doctrine of the soul as unextended and simple substance ; 
 Cosmology, or the doctrine of the physical universe ; and 
 Eational Theology, or the doctrine of the existence and 
 attributes of God, is interesting and noteworthy in its 
 relation to the '* critique " of Kant, as we shall presently 
 see. Practical philosophy (an expression since much iised 
 in Germany, of which ai)parently he was the originator) he 
 divides into Ethics, Economics, and Politics (the old 
 Aristotelian division). Wolff bases his " practical philo- 
 sophy " on the idea of perception, which is the law ot our 
 
 rational nature. , , , , . , -, • xi * 
 
 Wolff left an extensive school behind him, the most 
 notewortliy name of which is that of Alexander Gottlieb 
 Baumgahtex (born, 1714, in Berlin, died, 1762, iu Frank- 
 fort). Baumgarten is chiefly remarkable for two things; 
 
176 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch La. 
 
 firstly for having attempted to construct a philosophy of 
 aesthetics, and secondly for having been the thinker who 
 probably had most share in the earlier philosophical 
 education of Immanuel Kant. Baumgarten was Kanfs 
 type of the dogmatic metaphysician, as often appears in 
 his works. The only other member of the school worthy 
 of notice, and for the same reason, is Christian August 
 Cbusius (bom, 1712, died, 1776, professor of philosophy at 
 Leipsic). He also had an influence on the philosophical 
 education of Kant, and is often referred to by him. 
 
 ( 177 ) 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 FIRST EPOCH, B. 
 THE EMPIRICAL SCEPTICAL SCHOOLS. 
 
 BACON. 
 
 We have now traced the course of the dogmatic schools 
 of the Continent from the rehabilitation of })liilosophy, 
 after the fall of scholasticism had been succeeded by the 
 brilliant literary revivals of ancient systems, followed 
 by the fantastic physical speculations of the sixteenth 
 century ; and after these in their turn had collapsed— in 
 other words, fr«»ni the period of Descartes. We have 
 followed this development to the middle of the eighteenth 
 century, that is, to the time of Immanuel Kant. Here wo 
 must retrace our steps to the period at which we started 
 in the survey just concluded, i.e. to the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century, for the purpose of following the 
 contemporaneous, though essentially distinct Empiricist 
 movement in the British Islands. 
 
 The first name we meet with in this Empiricist move- 
 ment is that of Francis Bacon, Lord Yenilam. "By 
 eliminating the theosophic character which Natural 
 Philosophy had acquired during the transitional period," 
 says Uel)erweg (vol. iii. p. 35), "by the limitation of its 
 method to experiences and induction, and by raising the 
 fundamental ( haracteristics of this method to a philo- 
 sophical dignity free from the narrowness attaching to 
 any special circle of physical research, Bacon of Verubun 
 (1561-1626) is the founder, not indeed of the empirical 
 method in natural science, but of the empiricist line of 
 development in modern philosophy." The notion of 
 reorganising Imman knowledge on a new basis was, it 
 is baM, a favourite dream of Bacon, even in his boyhood. 
 Like his younger contemporary, Descartes, he had been 
 early disgusted with the metaphysic of the schools. The 
 growing enthusiasm for physical science had seized him 
 
 N 
 

 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 also ; but, unlike the FreBchman, he did not dream of 
 bringing knowledge back to the primitive cogito by any 
 drastic scepticism. 
 
 In his ' Instauration of the Sciences/ Bacon makes 
 a survey of knowledge, as it then existed, as a pre- 
 liminary to the work of reform. It falls under three 
 heads, Memory, Imagination, and Reason. In this portion 
 of his great work, Bacon points out what he conceived as 
 the fundamental sources of error in the human mind, to 
 which he gives the name of Idols in the Greek sense of 
 the word (ctSwAov). This, perhaps the most interesting 
 and important part of the work in question, is succeeded 
 by a dissertation on the three branches of human s(dence 
 which fall respectively under the above heads, viz., 
 History, Poetry, and Philosophy. Philosophy, according 
 to Bacon, concerns itself with God, ^lan, and Nature. The 
 first department, that of natural theology, consists of the 
 attempt to show that the series of physical causes implies 
 a first cause and a Providence. On the positive nature and 
 attributes of God, natural or philosophical theology has 
 nothing to say. Similarly, in the second department, 
 that which has Man for its object, it is not the immaterial 
 soul of man which is immediately breathed into him by 
 the Deity that philosophy deals with, but the animal soul, 
 which is of a thinner, finer, corporeal nature than the 
 body, but not immaterial.* 
 
 Natural philosophy, the third department, is divided 
 into two sections, speculative and operative. Speculative 
 natural philosophy is again divided into physics and 
 metaphysics ; the first in so far as it is concerned with 
 proximate causes, the second in so far as it deals with 
 ends. Operative natural philosophy is divided into 
 two corresponding sections, as applied physic it is 
 termed mechanic,— as applied metaphysic, natural magic. 
 The fundamental conceptions and axioms which lie 
 at the root of all philosophy, such as those of being 
 and non-being, similarity and diversity, &c., or such 
 an axiom as that two things that are equal to the same 
 thing are equal to one another, form the subject-matter of 
 
 • The coincidence of this with the doctrine of FaracelsuB ia curioui. 
 
 Epoch Lb.} 
 
 BACON. 
 
 179 
 
 what Bacon terms philosophia prima or scientia universalis. 
 Mathematics is merely the auxiliary science of physics. 
 Anthropology, or the science of Man, refers partly to the 
 human body and partly to the soul, in the sense above 
 indicated. Bacon ascribes all the elements of bodies to 
 perception, which he explains mechanically as the result 
 of attraction and repulsion. Like Leibnitz at a later date, 
 he distinguishes between mere perceptions, and feelings 
 accompanied by consciousness, although perhaps not so 
 clearly. Logic and ethics, no less than politics, fall to be 
 dealt with in this department. It is in the portion of the 
 •' Novum Organum " dealing with method, in which the idols 
 of the mind are treated of, that the doctrines are to be 
 found to which the subsequent philosophic development 
 may be most directly traced. Bacon discovers in the 
 natural constitution of the human mind a tendency 
 towards a deceptive anthropomorphism, as for instance, to 
 the substitution of final causes for proximate or eflicient 
 causes in physic, fallacies occasioned by which are termed 
 by him Idola Tribus. He finds also many * fallacies 
 attributable to some special bias of the individual, which 
 he terms Idola Specus ; or again, others occasioned by the 
 mis-use of language ; yet others, which spring from tradi- 
 tional prejudice; the latter being styled respectively 
 Idola Fori and Idola Theatri. The mind has to free itself 
 as far as may be from these infii-mities before it is in a 
 position to arrive at truth. "We must," says Bacon, 
 "neither draw everything from ourselves, as the spider 
 its threads, nor merely gather together like the ants, 
 but gather together and work up as the bees their 
 honey." Induction, as taught by Aristotle and the 
 schoolmen, the so-called indudio per enumerationem sim- 
 plicem, he condemns, since it fails in this latter point, 
 namely, the subjective working-up, by which Bacon means 
 the methodical and systematic reduction of the individual 
 instance under the general rule. Negative instances are 
 to be tnken account of as much as positive, as well as 
 differences of degree. The reduction is to be undertaken 
 with the greatest care, not by springing at once from the 
 singular to the universal, but by proceeding step by step 
 through all the intermediate stages. 
 
 N 2 
 
ISO 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY 
 
 [ErocH I.B. 
 
 HOBBES. 
 
 The next English thinker we have to notice is Thomas 
 HOBBES, the contemporary and friend of Bacon, llobbes 
 was born at Mahnesbury in 1588, and as a young man 
 Ijecame tutor in the house of the Duke of Devi.nshire. 
 Subseqiientlv, after a journey through France and Italy, 
 he studied Mathematics and Natural bcience m I aris, and 
 became as enthusiastic as his nature allowed m the rising 
 physical science, as represented by Kepler, Copernicus, 
 Galilei, and Harvey. He produced a number of works, 
 the most famous being his treatise " On Human Nature, 
 and the celebrated -Leviathan; or the Matter, £orm, 
 and Authority, of (Government." Hobbes died m Ib^). 
 
 Hobbes defines philonophy as the cognition of eflects or 
 phenomena from their causes, and of the causes trumtne 
 observed efiect«, l)y means of correct deduction. Its object 
 is practical, namely, that ^vo may foresee eifects, and 
 thereby make use of them in life. Hobbes shares Bacon s 
 mechanical mode of regarding things which he m many 
 resiiects exaggerates. He may justly be regarded as the 
 father of British psychology. Without him there could 
 have been no Locke. A distinct stand is taken on 
 
 one as loine cuusiivuin'ii »-'* »-'"* i^.v^"*^-^^. ^~ _ „ 
 
 the thoughts of Man," says he (Leviathan, Chap, i.), *' 1 
 will consider them first singly, and afterwards m a train 
 of dependence upon one another. Singly, they are every- 
 one a represefdatum or (qqyeamnce of some quality or other 
 accident of a body without us, which is commonly called 
 an object, which object woiketh on the eyes, ears, and other 
 
 18 tnai WUIUU WW Uctii ei-i.oo. ^"v.. ^^ *- X - — 
 
 man's mind which hath not at firnt, totally or by part, 
 been >)egotten upon the organs of sense. The rest are 
 (k'ri\-od from that original." , 
 
 In llobbes we have the first distinct expression of the 
 English empiricibt doctrine-— the doctrine which has main- 
 
 Epoch I.e.] 
 
 HOBBES. 
 
 181 
 
 tained its ground in this country up to the present time. 
 Pliilosophy in the English school, of which Hobbes is the 
 earlicHt direct representative, is reduced in its main issue 
 to a mere question of psychology. Is the mind a tahula 
 rasa receiving its knowledge readj'-made from an exter- 
 nal source ? or does it possess innate ideas by which it 
 is enabled to form judgments of a higher validity than 
 those which can be referred to a succession of particular 
 experiences? In other words, is there any essential 
 distinction between contingent or emj/h-ical truth and 
 necessary truth, or is the distinction that exists between 
 them merely one of degree ? The problem as to what 
 constitutes renlity, which is of course involved in these 
 questions, is here altogether lost sight of. The completed 
 categories of consciousness which the real world implies, 
 the entire synthesis of experience, is assumed from the 
 
 outset. . 
 
 The confusion between metaphysic, psychology, and 
 physics, so characteristic of the English school, is present 
 from the first. Hobbes sees that sensible qualities can 
 exist only in the percipient, but ho nevertheless, as 
 api>ear8 in the above passage, assumes the existence of the 
 mysterious entity, a "body without us," which, in an 
 equally mysterious manner " worketh upon the eyes, ears, 
 and other parts of a man's body, and by diversity of 
 working, produces diversity of appearances." Hobbes, of 
 course, |)ostnlates an atomism which he bases upon the 
 asstimption that that which moves others must also in 
 itself be moved at least in its smaller parts, since motion 
 apart from matter or at a distance is an impossibility. 
 The senses of men and animals are aifected by motions 
 which propagate themselves from the senses to the lirain, 
 and from the brain to the heart, whence the reverse 
 process takes place, which reverse process constitutes 
 feeling. We see an anticipation of Leibnitz in the asser- 
 tion that all matter possesses potentiality of feeling. 
 From feeling all knowledge is ultimately derived. 
 General notions, so called, are nothing more thai* words 
 serving as signs for an aggregate of similar objects. 
 All thought is merely the addition and subtraction, 
 the combination and separation of perceptions. 
 
182 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 I 
 
 Epoch I.e.] 
 
 LOCKE. 
 
 183 
 
 The original state of man in society Hobbes declares 
 was that of war ; this was substituted a* a later stage for 
 
 a formal contract by which -''•^^di^r^ "^"^'rhc.Win^ 
 absolute ruler was pledged on condition that he. holding 
 S:7aLnce of powe^r. sSould protect /^dividual members 
 of the society to which this contract was to give birtn, 
 against one another. This theory of society -'^^^^ 
 iS substantially the same furm to tha la'd d"'^ ^-y 
 Hobbes as axiomatic, by almost all political thinkers till 
 the end of the eighteenth century, and forms the basis of 
 that great text book of the French Kevolution, the 
 "Social Contract" of Jean-Jacques Kousseau Morality 
 noV)be8 regards as the direct result of the Political btate. 
 That is stSa which is sanctioned by the absolute power 
 in the sUte ; the reverse, evil. Keligion and superstition 
 have this, in common, that they both imply the fear of 
 imaginary powers ; the difference between them consists 
 in that the fear or worship of those imaginary powei^ 
 which are recognised by the state is religion, while the 
 fear or worship of those not recognised is superstition. 
 
 XiOCK-iii. 
 
 JoH^ Locke was lx)m in 1632 at Wr in gtoii, near Bristol. 
 He studied at Westminster, and afterwards at Oxtord. 
 In 1664 he went on a diplomatic mission to Berlin, whicii 
 lasted some twelve montliB. A few years afterwards 
 havinp: in tlie meantime resided at Ox^>rd, he undertook 
 a journey through France and Italy. For a lo^g time he 
 regained as tutur in the house of the Earl of Sl-ftesbury 
 The * Essay on the Human Understanding, though 
 commenced in 1670, was not publiHhed until some years 
 later. Shaftcsbury'n resintance to the absolute tendencies 
 of James II. brought him to the Tower; but being 
 acquitted by the jury, he repaired to Holland, where he 
 wa^ followed by Locke in the year 16B3. In consequence 
 of the revolution of 1688, which placed the Innce of 
 Oranga on the English throne, Locke returned to his 
 native country ; he soon received an official appointment, 
 hrst as " Commissioner of Appeals," and atterwards as 
 " Commissioner of Trade and riantages." Locke died m 
 
 the seventy-third year of his age, in 1704. In addition 
 to the famous ' Essay,' Locke was the author of numerous 
 treatises on ethical, political, and economical subjects. 
 
 The great principle of Locke's philosophy is, that the 
 orio-in of all knowledge is in experience, and that the 
 derivation of all concepts is from experience. The first 
 book of his essay is occupied almost entirely^ with a 
 polemic against the doctrine of *' innate ideas," that is, 
 of ideas existing in the mind independently of experience. 
 Did the individual really possess such ideas, they would 
 be discoverable in children and savages. The fact that 
 the abstract notions supposed to be innate do not exist m 
 these cases, proves that they are not universal, while a 
 little consideration of their nature shows them to pre- 
 suppose a relatively high degree of culture. The case of 
 savages proves conclusively that there is no single 
 ethical proposition which is regarded as binding by all 
 men alike. The same reasoning applies to the elements 
 of our complex ideas as to the ideas themselves ; there 
 are none which are innate. The understanding is origin- 
 ally a tabula rasa. The second book deals with how this 
 blank tablet is engraved with the writing of experience. 
 There are two " receivers," so to speak, of different orders 
 of experience, the external senses, sensation proper, and the 
 internal sense, or the capacity of reflection. But whether 
 what we perceive be an outward or an inward fact, our 
 understanding is in either case nothing more than the 
 mirror in which it is reflected— the smooth surface of the 
 camera obscura which is the passive vehicle of the 
 influence of the light of experience. There are thus 
 ideas derived from sensation, and ideas derived from 
 reflection. The capacity of an object to produce an idea 
 in our understanding is called its quality. Where the 
 idea is similar to the state of the object producing it, it 
 is termed a primary quality. There are two primary 
 qualities in external ohiecta-exteimon and impenetrahihty. 
 Our idea of an extended thing implies a real externality 
 of the particles to one another ; our idea of resistance a 
 real configuration of the body producing it. But with 
 most qualities the case is otherwise. These secondary 
 qualities, as they are termed, such as colour, odour, taste, 
 
184 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [ErocH I.B. 
 
 roiigliness, smoothness, iMjauty, ugliness, pleasantness, and 
 nnpleasantuess, Ac, only indicate a certain relation be- 
 tween our organs and the oliject, but notliing existent 
 in the object itself. Indeed, tlic olgect has as little 
 analogy with those ideas it produces in our minds, as the 
 heat of the huii has with the softness of the wax which it 
 melts. It is the cause of these eifects in us, but no more. 
 This distinction of j/rimarf/ and secmidary qualities is with 
 Locke a cardinal one. The ideas of sensation, then, are 
 the effect of the qualities of outward things upon our 
 understanding ; those of reflection, the effects of our own 
 inward states upon our understanding. Out of these 
 two kinds of ideas is made up the whole sum of our 
 knowledge. 
 
 As the immense variety of words is constituted of the 
 twenty -six letters of the alphabet, so the number of 
 primitive ideas out of which all our concepts are con- 
 structed is relatively small, and may be readily enumerated. 
 In forming an inventory of them, it is advisable to begin 
 with thoBO derived from a single sense, such as colour, 
 sound, odour, <fec., and then to proceed to those which are 
 produced by a combination of several senses, such as that 
 of dimension, which involves the idea of a measured or 
 determined extension or space. We may then proceed to 
 ideas having their origin in reflertiun, such as thought, 
 will, duration, or measured time ; and finally to ideas 
 derived from both sources, namely, sensation and 
 reflection, such as those of unity, force, &c. The 
 complex ideas whicli are produced by the combination of 
 these simple ideas, Locke divides into three classes — ideas 
 of modes, of substances, and of relations. ^ 
 
 By " modes," Locke understands " such complex ideas 
 which, however compounded, contain not in them the 
 supposition of subsisting l)y themselves, but are considered 
 as dependencies or attections of substances ; such are the 
 ideas signified by tlie words * triangle, gratitude, murder,' 
 &c." — Book II., Chap, iii., 4. Modes are subdivided into 
 simple or mixed, the first kind being such as are produced 
 liy the coml)iiiation of the same simple idea, " as a dozen, 
 or a score ; w^hich are nothing but the ideas of so many 
 distinct units added together," and the second being 
 
 Epoch I.b.] 
 
 LOCKE. 
 
 185 
 
 compounded of various kinds of simple ideas, such as 
 "beauty," "theft," &c. Ideas of substances are "such 
 combinations of simple ideas as are taken to represent 
 distinct particular things subsisting by themselves, in 
 which the supposed or confused idea of substance, such as 
 it is, is always the first and chief." —(11. vi.) " Kelation " 
 consists in the "consideration and comparing one idea 
 with another."— («?>. vii. ) 
 
 The simple ideas whieh come to us directly through 
 exi»erience, are ektypal, i.e. they always have something 
 real corresponding to them. The complex ideas, an the 
 contrary, since they are the figments of our own minds, 
 are archetypal, and have no reality corresponding to 
 them. Alf words, except proper names, are concerned 
 with the latter order of ideas, i.e. general or al>stiact 
 concepts, and must therefore not l>e regarded as represent- 
 ing anything real, for there is nothing real but wliat is 
 individual. Here, we may remind the reader, we have 
 Locke taking up the imralde, though possibly un- 
 consciously, of Occam, and the later nominalistic scho(jl- 
 men. The third book of the ' Essay ' is devoted entirely 
 to a discussion on the question of language, to the mis- 
 api)relieiision of the true nature of whicli Locke attrilnites 
 most of the fallacies of the metaphysicians. 
 
 One only of the complex i«leas does Locke admit to 
 denote any reality; this exception is the idea of substance. 
 We are conipelled, says Locke, whatever be the reason, to 
 postulate a sul)stratum as that in which the qualitif.'s of 
 things inhere, and which, although we have no evidence 
 of it in experience, and can even form no definite i«lea of 
 it, we cannot help regarding as real. The idea of sub- 
 stance, althoiTgh a complex idea, corresponds therefore to 
 a reality, albeit an unknown reality.* Substances we 
 know only by their (jualities, and hence we can only 
 classify tlienr according to their qualities. In this way 
 we may divide substances into two classes — those capable 
 of thought or c<jgitative substances (mind), and those not 
 
 * Wo may observe tlmt Locke's use of tiie word " sulwtanco " is not that 
 of Ari^tntlv'8 ovrriay nf oF iii(';,t of tlio schoolineu, l>ut answers ntther 
 to tlf Aristotcliau Trpctirri vKri, and to the Kautiaii Ihing-iu-it^elj'., or 
 null Hi' nun. 
 
186 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch Lb. 
 
 BO capable (matter). We are by no means justified, how- 
 ever, in dogmatically asserting the former class to be 
 immaterial, like Descartes ; indeed, their susceptibility to 
 decay rather gives colour to the hypothesis that they are 
 material in nature. Thought may very well be conceived 
 as quality of matter. It is just as incorrect to regard 
 the thinking substance as necessarily always conscious 
 (another error of Descartes); for this is plainly con- 
 tradicted by experience. 
 
 The further combination of ideas gives us cognition 
 or knowledge, expressed in language in the form of 
 the proposition, which may be either instructive or 
 demonstrative, according as to whether it is immediately 
 perceived or arrived at through the interposition of 
 middle terms. To these two modes of cognition, may be 
 added a third, namely : the immediate sensuous percep- 
 tion of external ol >jects. Our conception of God is attained 
 by a process of reasoning, in other words, is demonstrative. 
 It is composed of ideas derived from our experience of 
 finite minds, with the idea of infinity, that is, the negation 
 of limits superadded. When the constituent elements 
 of a cognition are universal notions, it is a universal 
 
 axiom. 
 
 The utility of universal propositions should neither be 
 over nor under-estimated. We should always bear in 
 mind, while employing them, that they are ultimately 
 mere abstractions from our experience of individual 
 facts. It is also important to make a distinction between 
 those general propositions in which the predicate adds 
 something to our knowledge of the subject, and those 
 which are merely verbal and identical. The statement 
 that a triangle is a triangle, or that the triangle has three 
 sides, is a mere play of words, since the word triangle implies 
 a figure comprising three sides and three angles. On the 
 other hand, the assertion that the outer angle is greater 
 than eitlier of the internal and opposite angles is a state- 
 ment carrying with it a distinct increase to our knowledge 
 of the triangle ; the predicate, in short, contains something 
 more than what is already contained in the subject. 
 This distinction appears later in Kant as that between 
 analytic and synthetic judgments. 
 
 Epoch I.b.J 
 
 LOCKE. 
 
 1S7 
 
 Locke divides the whole of knowledge into natural 
 philosophy which deals with things, moral philosophy, 
 which deals with the means by which the good and 
 useful is attained, and logic which deals with symbols 
 and words. Locke's treatise entitled the ' Elements of 
 Natural Philosophy,' is concerned with the first of these 
 departments. The second is treated of in a fragmentary 
 way in his 'Thoughts on Education,' in his two 
 * Treatises on Government,* and in his * Letters on 
 Toleration,' &c. Nowhere, however, does he go into the 
 fundamental questions of ethics in any thorough manner. 
 The third or logical department, is discussed in the ' Essay 
 on the Human Understanding,' as well as in that ' On the 
 Conduct of the Understanding.' 
 
 Locke's views on Education had a very wide influence, 
 and form the basis of Einisseau's ' Emile.* His political 
 treatises breathe the spirit of the typical English Whig, 
 their idciis and reasoning having been since dressed up m 
 many a Whig speech and pamphlet. The resemblance of 
 certain of Locke's political doctrines to those of Hobbes as 
 expressed in the Leviathan would seem too strong to be 
 accounted for by mere coincidence or contemporaneity, 
 although Locke himself disclaimed all knowledge of the 
 
 Leviathan. 
 
 The influence of the writings of John Locke, especially 
 the ' Essay on the Human Understanding,' on the sub- 
 sequent course of philosophic thought has been immense. 
 That it has been so, is in many respects surprising, 
 considering how little there is in his works that is 
 not to be found in those of his elder contemporary 
 Hol)bes. His main position indeed is traceable much 
 further back, and amounts to little more than the nomi- 
 nalism of Occam and his followers as expressed in the 
 famous formula Nihil est in inteUeefu quod non prius in 
 semufuerit. The popularity of liis style, and the forcible 
 manner in whicli he returns again and again to the 
 charge in his efforts to ref«»te his ailversaries, real or 
 imagined (for it is extremely doubtful whether any thinker 
 ever seriously believed in the innate psychological con- 
 cepts whieli are Locke's ]>artieuhir hete noire), and to 
 establish his own position, will, however, account to a large 
 
188 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch Lb. 
 
 extent for the hold he Bot only obtained but kept on 
 men's minds. He gathered, so to speak, into one focus 
 the argnments against the older metaphysic, and gave to 
 the empirical doctrine of liacon and Hobbes a definite 
 psychological staiiding-gronnd. Locke was an Englinh- 
 man of Englishmen, alike in his character and writings. 
 There is in the latter all the common-sense force of the 
 English character, with all its lack of subtility, and we 
 may add, all its honest contempt for the qualities it does 
 not itself possess. 
 
 We have now to trace the development of the principles 
 laid down by Locke, first in the hands of Berkeley, Hume, 
 Reid, and the so-called Scotch Psychological School, and 
 afterwards in those of the French Sensationist and 
 Materialist School. 
 
 BERKELEY. 
 
 Locke's ideas were developed in various directions by 
 his pupil Shaftesbury, by Clarke, Ilutcheson, and others. 
 But the most iiii|>ortant among Ids immediate successoi-s 
 from the point of view of the historian of philosophy is 
 Ge(»rgc Berkeley, lx>rn at Thomastown in Ireland, in 
 l(>8.j[ (jf an old Royalist family. Berkeley studied with 
 avidity contemporary philosoi)hical literature, especially 
 Locke and Malebranche. He took advantage of a visit to 
 Paris to i)ay his respects to the latter, but the interview 
 proved fatal to the aged ecclesiastic, then suffering from 
 inflammation of the lungs, wlio died a few days afterwards. 
 After spending s -me years in travel, he returned to 
 Ireland, having been meanwhile presented to the deanery 
 of Deny. This post he subse(iiiently threw up, to engage 
 in an abortive missionary enterprise in the Bermudas. 
 It was on his return thence, that he was made Bishop 
 of Cloyne. He died at Oxford in 1753. 
 
 Berkeley's standing-ground is Lockeian ; Em]uricism 
 pushed to its logical conclusion in the shape of a tliorough 
 going nominalism, which denied abstraction altogether. 
 *' Knowledge and demonstration," it is true, are about 
 universal notions, but it dooK not follow they are formed 
 
 Epoch Lb.] 
 
 BERKELEY. 
 
 189 
 
 by abstraction. The universality consists rather in the 
 "relation it bears to the |)articulars siLaiified or repre- 
 sented by it, by virtue of which it is that things being in 
 their own nature particular are rendered universal " — 
 (* Principles of Human Knowledge' Introduction, xv.) 
 There is no such thing as a universal idea. When I 
 speak of a triangle, says Berkeley, I do not mean a 
 triangle that is neither '* equilateral nor scalenor, nor 
 eciuicrural, but only that the particular triangle I con- 
 sider, whether of this or of that sort, it matters not, doth 
 equally stand for and rel>re^ent all rectilinear triangles 
 whatsoever, and is in that sense universal." ^ That which is 
 inseparable in existence is also inseparable in thought. It 
 follows that general names so-called, must be the names, 
 not of general ideas (which can have no existence), but 
 must 1)0 expressions by which we represent classes of indi- 
 vidual objects, characterised by common features with 
 special reference not to the individual peculiarities of the 
 objects, but to their common characteristics. It is in the 
 doctrine of abstract ideas tliat this belief in an inde- 
 pendent external world ultimately rests : '' for can 
 there be a nicer strain of abstraction than to distinguish 
 the existence of sensible objects from their being per- 
 ceived, so as to conceive them existing unperceived ? " 
 
 (Principles v.) 
 
 " If we enquire into what the most accurate philosophers 
 declare themselves to mean by material suhstance, we shall 
 find them acknowledge they have no other meanhig at- 
 taclied to these sounds than the idea of being in genertil, to- 
 gether with the relative notion of its supporting accidents." 
 ( xvn.) Now all ideas, whether (in the language of Locke) 
 they be ideas of " sensation " or of " reflection," are nothing 
 but states of our mind or spirit. Even the upholders of 
 the current dt»ctrine admit with Locke, that the ideas of 
 colour, odour, &c., do not represent any in<lependent quality 
 in things outside us, but tliey notwithstanding, incon- 
 sequently, assume them to express a relation to such 
 things. The distinction between primary and secondary 
 qualities is a jmrely arbitrary one, of no validity what- 
 ever in [troof of tlie existence of an external W(jrld, since 
 the former can, by the same reasoning as is used with 
 
190 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 regard to the latter, be sbown to have no existence apart 
 from the mind perceiving them. 
 
 The material mhstance or substratum, which to Locke was 
 a necessary assumption, foils away therefore, together 
 with the inherence in it of the so-called primary qnalities. 
 It is surely simpler and more rational, instead of imagi- 
 ning an unknown something behind the qualities perceived 
 in the sense-world, to acknowledge that matter is nothing 
 but the constant sum of these perceived qualities — that 
 the thing is what is perceived and nothing else — or once 
 more, that the being of things consists in their perception, 
 that their esse is percipi. But the assumption of a world 
 independent of perception is not merely gratuitous, it 
 involves a self-contradiction. The notion of hardness, 
 extension, figure, that is, of certain affections of our minds, 
 existing apart from our minds, is plainly absurd. All 
 would recognise the absurdity if any one were to assert 
 the independent existence of the feeling of pain caused by 
 burning, apart from its being felt. Strange to say, they 
 do not recognise that the independent existence of the 
 fire itself, that is, of the assemblage of sense affections or 
 ideas (as Berkeley, following Locke's terminology, calls 
 them) connoted by that word, is equally absurd on the very 
 same grounds. The substratum of Lcxjke and the philoso- 
 phers is just as untenable. For did such independent exis- 
 tence obtain, it is evident that we, neither philosophers nor 
 anyone else, could know anything about it. In so far as 
 the philosophei-8 predicate its existence, they profess to 
 know something about it, in which case it is not inde- 
 pendent of perception, since they must have arrived at it 
 sooner or later through perception, and therefore the same 
 reasoning will apply. 
 
 Under no hypothesis can one escape the dilemma : if 
 the term matter expresses something known, it is only 
 an idea; if not, it is for us an altogether meaningless 
 phrase. To the objection that the idea may be the 
 copy of a reality, Berkeley replies that an idea can 
 only resemble another idea : *' If we look never so little 
 into our thoughts, we shall find it impossible for us to 
 conceive a likeness, except only between our ideas. 
 Again I ask whether these supposed originals or external 
 
 Epoch I.b.] 
 
 BERKELEY. 
 
 191 
 
 things of which our ideas are the pictures or representa- 
 tions be themselves perceivable or not. If they are, then 
 they are ideas, and we have gained our point ; but if you 
 say they are not, I appeal to anyone whether it be sense 
 to assert a colour is like something which is invisible ; 
 hard or soft, like something which is intangible, and so 
 of the rest." (vm.) . 
 
 The conclusion Berkeley draws from his analysis is that 
 "there is not any other substance than spirit or that 
 which perceives." For, that an idea should subsist in an 
 unthinking substance is a manifest contradiction, to have 
 an idea being the same as to think or to perceive, and 
 hence the only possible substratum for external objects is a 
 mind or minds in which they are perceived. The distinc- 
 tion between ideas of sense and their reproduction m reflec- 
 tion is that the former are implanted in us immediately Irona 
 their source, the divine mind, while the latter are derived 
 immediately from our perception of the former. " Some 
 truths there are," says Berkeley, " so near and obvious to 
 the mind, that a man need only open his eyes to see them. 
 Such I take this important one to be, to wit, that all the 
 choir of heaven and furniture of the earth, m a word, all 
 those bodies which compose the mighty irame of the 
 world, have not any subsistence without a mmd ; that 
 their being is to be perceived or known ; that consequently 
 so long as they are not actually perceived by me, or do 
 not exist in my mind or that of any other created spmt, 
 they must either have no existence at all, or else subsist 
 in the mind of some eternal spirit,— it being perfectly 
 unintelligible, and involving all the absurdity of abstrac- 
 tion, to attribute to any single part of them an existence 
 independent of spirit. To be convinced of which the 
 reader need only reflect, and try and separate m his own 
 thoughts the being of a sensible thing from its being 
 perceived." (vi.) The existence of external things 
 consists in their being eternally present in the mind of 
 God, by whom they are revealed to us. Hence, m a sense, 
 it is' true that they exist independently of our mind, but 
 only so far as they are present in the divine mmd. There 
 exists, in short, only active entities (spirits) whose nature 
 consists in thinking and willing, and ideas or modifications 
 
192 
 
 MODERN nilLOSOrHY. 
 
 [ErocH I.B. 
 
 of these entities. The resemblance of Berkeley b doctrine 
 to that of Malehranche in this point is not to be clenied, but 
 the two men ai>proached the (luestion from opposite points 
 of view. Malebranche never relinquished the Cartesian 
 Dualism, while Berkeley's whole system is a polemic 
 
 against Dualism. #. t x* * 
 
 Our knowledge of an object is made up of distinct 
 kinds of sensations, e.g. sensations of sight and sensa- 
 tions of touch. These are al>8olutely independent and 
 distinct ; yet their constant association, by means ot 
 xv'hich each becomes for us the " sign " which suggests the 
 possibility of expressing the other, in indei.endent ot any 
 control of the precipient mind. It follows tor Berkeley 
 that this arbitrary yet orderly and invariable connection 
 must have its souice in the work of a creative intelligence 
 
 outside our own. , , , t x- x • 
 
 Berkeley, it must be remembered, had a distinct aim m 
 view ill his philosophical writings other than the mere 
 searcli tor truth, to wit, to cut the ground, as he h^'lie^;^*> 
 from under "scepticism, atheism, and irreligion. Itiis 
 object he thought he attained through the refutation of 
 the doctrine of an inde[.endeut external world ot matter. 
 Berkeley's system may be described as a thorough-going 
 phenomenalism or empiricism. How this system, which 
 w^as to annihilate all scepticism and atheism, \s as itselt 
 the groundwork of a systematic philosophy ot doubt, we 
 
 shall see. , , . 
 
 The complete works of Bishop Berkeley have been more 
 than once republished, the best edition being that of 
 Professor Frazor, in four volumes, 8vo., London, 1873. In 
 addition to his main philo80i)hical essay, entitled * A 
 Treatise Concerning the rrinciples of Human Knovvledge, 
 in which his leading positions are expounded at length, 
 he wrote 'Three Dialogues between llylas and Fhilimous, 
 containing the main ariiuments for immaterialism in a 
 more popular fonn. His celebrated 'Essay Toward a 
 New Theory of Vision,' contains an ex]:.osition ot the 
 psycliological side of optics which has formed the founda- 
 tion for every subsequent scientitic exposition of the subject. 
 Berkeley there endeavoured to show that judgments ot 
 distance rest entirely on an empirical basis. ' Alciphron, 
 
 Epoch I.b.] 
 
 HUME. 
 
 193 
 
 or the Minute Philosopher,* at the time his most popular 
 work, is a dialogue designed to refute the fashionable 
 hm-vimnt "freethinker" of the day, a figure which belongs 
 to that era,— the era of chap-books, " wit, coffee-houses, 
 hiehwavmen-in short, which is peculiar to eighteenth- 
 century social life, and heard of no more after the French 
 Kevolution. In addition to some mathematical treatises, the 
 only other work of importance is the ' Siris,' written towards 
 the close of Berkeley's career, in which he starts from a dis- 
 sertation on the virtues of tar-water, and proceeds to descant 
 on the physical nature of things in general, winding up 
 with a learned disquisition on theosophy, Egyptian, 1 la- 
 tonic, and Christian. All Berkeley's writings are inter- 
 esting from their quaintness of style. . xu * 
 Berkeley's position may be summed up by saying that 
 he put a *' new question " as to the meaning of the general 
 name " matter." Hume, as we shall see, m effect took up 
 the application of his method at the point at which 
 Berkeley dropped it, and proceeded^ to inquire into the 
 meaning of the general name " mind." 
 
 HUME. 
 
 David Hume was bom on the 26th of April, 1711, in Edin- 
 burgh, at the university of which city he was educated. 
 He subsequently entered a merchant's othce in Bristol, but 
 finding the occupation little to his taste, availed himseli 
 of a small independence to migrate to France, where he 
 remained four years. Hume's first philosophical work, 
 the 'Treatise of Human Nature, was pubhshed m 1728, 
 but fell almost stillborn from the press. This was 
 followed in 1741 by a volume of general essays, entitled 
 'Essays and Treatises on Various Subjects, which 
 attracted considerable attention. Encouraged by this 
 success, Hume ventured upon a condensed restate- 
 ment of his philosophical position, which saw the light 
 between the years 1748 and 1752. It consisted of three 
 portions, the ' Enquiry concerning Human Understand- 
 me ' the * Dissertation on the Passions,' and the ' Enquiry 
 Concerning the Principles of Morals,' besides appendices. 
 
 
 
191 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I^b. 
 
 The 'History of England' wMcli subsequently made ^is 
 fame in another direction, does not interest us here. Hm 
 final work was his autoHo^aphy. He died on the 26tti 
 of August, 1776. The * Dialogues concerning Natural 
 Religion ' and the * Essays on Suicide.' were published 
 
 after his death. .. - 
 
 Hume closes for practical purposes the great line ol 
 British thinkers initiated by Bacon and Hobbes. We say 
 closes this line, inasmuch as there is little or nothing to 
 be found in the Scotch psychological school of Keid, 
 Beattie, &c., which is not a repetition, or at most ampli- 
 fication of what we find in the writings of these thinkers. 
 Hume's place in the history of philosophy is that of the 
 immediate successor of Berkeley. His mam advance on 
 Berkeley was this : the Anglican bishop, while rejecting 
 the Lockeian substance— that is, the substratum of quaU- 
 ties—in so far as the external or material world was 
 concerned, never once thought of rejecting the same con- 
 ception with regard to the internal or mental world, io 
 Berkeley "the only possible substratum for external 
 obiects was the mind or minds by which they are per- 
 ceived" To Hume, on the contrary, the immaterial 
 Bubstance "mind," "spirit," or " soul," had as little 
 justification in reason, as the material substance against 
 which Berkeley's polemic was directed. An achievement 
 in its consequences even more momentous for the subse- 
 quent evolution of thought, was the attention Hume called 
 to the problem of causation, for this it was which Kant 
 tells us first directed his thought towards the deeper 
 issues of which this was only one, involved in Theory of 
 
 Knowledge. , , ^i i 
 
 Locke and Berkeley had both of them employed the word 
 "idea" for the objects alike of sense and reflection. Hume 
 makes a distinction between impressions and ideas. " We 
 may divide." he says (Inquiry, Sect. 2), " all the perceptions 
 of the mind into two species, which are distinguished by 
 their different degrees of force and vivacity.* The less 
 forcible and lively are commonly denominated Thoughts 
 
 ♦ It is eingular how persistently the thinkers of the empirical echool 
 missed the point of the distinction between the real and the psychological 
 order in resting satisfied with this pitiable makeshift ol a dehmtion. 
 
 Epoch I.e.] 
 
 HUME. 
 
 195 
 
 or Ideas. The other species want a name in our language 
 and in most others ; I suppose because it was not requisite, 
 for any but philosophical purposes, to rank them under a 
 general term or appellation. Let us therefore use a little 
 freedom, and call them impression, employing that word 
 in a sense somewhat different from the usual. By the 
 term impression, then, I mean all our more lively percep- 
 tions when we hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or 
 desire, or will. And impressions are distinguished from 
 ideas, which are the less lively perceptions of which we 
 are conscious, when we reflect on any of these sensations 
 or movements above mentioned." Every idea has its 
 origin in an impression or combination of impressions. 
 The having of impressions is feeling, the having of 
 thoughts is thinking. Among ideas may be distinguished 
 those of memory, and those of imagination ; the former, 
 as being nearer their sense original, being the more, and 
 the latter the less, lively. The fundanyental principles 
 of connection or association among ideas, Hume finds 
 to be three, namely. Resemblance, Contiguity, and Catise 
 and Effect. "A picture naturally leads our thoughts 
 to the original (Resemblance) ; the mention of one apart- 
 ment in a building naturally introduces an inquiry or 
 discourse concerning the others (Contiguity) ; and if we 
 think of a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on 
 the pain which follows it (Cause and Effect). But that 
 this enumeration is complete, and that there are no other 
 principles of association except these, may be difiicult 
 to prove to the satisfaction of the reader, or even to a 
 man's own satisfaction. All we can do in such cases is to 
 run over several instances and examine carefully the 
 principle which binds the different thoughts to each 
 other, never stopping till we render the principle as 
 general as possible. The more instances we examine, and 
 the more care we employ, the more assurance shall we 
 acquire, that the enumeration which we form of the whole 
 is complete and entire." (Inquiry, Sect. 3.) We quote 
 the above passage, as it contains a concise statement of 
 the empirical method in psychology. 
 
 The objects of human reason or inquiry may be divided 
 into "relations of ideas," and "matters of fact." The 
 
 2 
 
196 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch Lb. 
 
 fonner alone are susceptible of demonstration. All reason- 
 ings concerning matters of fact are founded on the re a- 
 tion of cause and effect. And here comes m Hume s ce le- 
 brated doctrine that " causes and eff^ts are aiscoverable 
 not by reason, but by experience." With this is connected 
 the categorical denial of any causal nexus, of any principle, 
 that is, uniting the cause with the effect. The belief m this 
 nexus is attributable, according to Hume, to the fact that 
 custom or habit leads us unhesitatingly to expect a certain 
 effect to follow a given cause ; in other words, it is by 
 experience alone that the belief in the necessary connection 
 of cause and effect is obtained. " The nature of experience 
 is this : we remember to have had frequent instances ot the 
 existence of one species of objects, and also remember that 
 the individuals of another species of objects have always 
 attended them, and have existed in a regular contiguity 
 and succession with regard to them. Thus we remember 
 to have seen that species of object we call flame, and to 
 have felt that species of sensation we call heat. We 
 likewise call to mind their constant conjunction m all past 
 instances." (Treatise, Fart in., Sect. 6.) 1 he effect is 
 totally different from the cause, and can never be discovered 
 therein. There is nothing by which we could tell a priori 
 that the impact of one billiard ball with another should 
 resalt in the motion of the second. Constant conjunction 
 is all we can predicate of this or any other insUnce ot 
 causation. It is custom or habit alone which leads us to 
 believe that the future will resemble the past. Hume m 
 a similar manner disposes of the ideas of power, force 
 
 ""''nume's^treatment of the subject of the freedom of the 
 will is based on his theory of causation. Because, he says, 
 we are accustomed to believe in the necessary connection 
 lietween a cause and its effect in the external world, and 
 do not feel any such connection between our volitions and 
 the acts which foUow them, we regard our will as free, in 
 contradistinction to the necessity we imagine to exist in 
 other instances of causation. This distinction Hume, oi 
 course, regards as altogether spurious, and theretore 
 as having no place whatever in philo*=ophy. "All man- 
 kind," he says, " have ever been agreed in the doctrine of 
 
 Epoch Lb.] 
 
 HUME. 
 
 197 
 
 liberty as well as in that of necessity," the whole discussion 
 concerning which "has been hitherto merely verbal." 
 «* For what is meant by liberty when applied to voluntary 
 actions ? We cannot surely mean that actions have so 
 little connection with motives, inclinations and circum- 
 stances, that one does not follow with a certain degree of 
 uniformity from the other, and that one affords no 
 inference by which we can conclude the existence of the 
 other. For these are plain and acknowledged matters of 
 fact. By liberty, then, we can only mean d, power of acting 
 or not acting according to the determination of the will ; that 
 is, if we choose to remain at rest, we may ; if we choose to 
 move, we also may. Now this hypothetical liberty is 
 universally allowed to every one who is not a prisoner 
 and in chains. Here then is no subject of dispute." 
 (Inquiry, Part i. Sect. 8.) Being once convinced that we 
 know nothing of causation of any kind beyond " the 
 constant conjunction of objects and the consequent inference 
 of the mind from one to another, and finding that these 
 two circumstances are universally allowed to have place 
 in voluntary actions, we may be more easily led to own 
 the same necessity common to all causes." If man had 
 but begun by investigating the true nature of the belief 
 in the connectitjn of cause and effect in the external 
 world, the free-will controvei-sy would never have arisen. 
 The attack upon the doctrine of the Soul-Substance 
 occurs in the * Treatise on Human Nature.* Hume con- 
 tends that this is no less an absurdity than an indepen- 
 dent substance or substratum of matter. " This question," 
 says Hume (Treatise, Part iv. Sect. 5), we have found 
 impossible to be answered with regard to matter and 
 body. But besides that in the case of the mind it labours 
 under all the same difficulties, it is burthened with some 
 additional ones which are peculiar to that subject. As 
 every idea is derived from a precedent impression, had 
 we any idea of the substance of our minds, we must also 
 have an impression of it; which is very difficult, if 
 not impossible, to be conceived. For how can an impres- 
 sion represent a substance otherwise than by resembling 
 it? And how can an impression represent a substance, 
 since according to this i»hilosophy it is not a substance, 
 
198 
 
 MODEEN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch Lb. 
 
 and has none of tlie peculiar qnalitiee or characteristics 
 
 of a substance ? " , . . - 
 
 All we know respecting the mind is a succession of 
 certain states, seeing, hearing, feeling willing, &c. Ihe 
 assumption of a substratum in which they inhere has 
 no warrant in experience and is a purely gratuitous fiction 
 of the philosophers. Hence the question whether our 
 thought inheres in a material or immaterial substance 
 is altogether unmeaning. We have presented to us a 
 series of impressions and ideas. This is all we know 
 of matter or mind ; the assumption of anything further 
 is an illusion. Hume's speculative doctrine thus re- 
 solves itself into a systematic Scepticism or Phenome- 
 nalism. The transition of these impressions and ideas 
 is purely arbitrary. The Berkeleian conception of the 
 Divine "mind" having been shown to be as meaning- 
 less as the Lockeian conception of " matter,' it is clear we 
 have no ground for beUef— except what is entirely based 
 on association-in any uniformity of nature whatever. 
 The only utility of metaphysics is to exhibit the limits ol 
 
 human inquiry. . 
 
 The proper objects of abstract thought are quantity 
 and number ; in Mathematics alone can we have demon- 
 stration. " All other inquiries of men," observes Hume 
 (Inquiry, Kule xii. Part 3), " regard only matter and 
 existence ; and these are evidently incapable of demonstra- 
 tion. Whatever i« may not be ; no negation of a tact can 
 involve a contradiction ; the non-existence of any being is 
 as clear and distinct an idea as its existence. Ihe propo- 
 sition which affirms it not to be, however, false, is no less 
 conceivable and intelligible than that which affirms it to 
 be The case is diiferent with the sciences, properly so- 
 called. Every prop«»sition which is not true is tliere^ ccn- 
 fused and unintelligible. That the cube root of 64 is 
 equal to the half of 10 is a false proposition, and can never 
 be distinctly conceived; but that C*sar or the angel 
 Gabriel, or any being never existed, may be a false pro- 
 position, but still is perfectly conceivable and implies 
 no contradiction." Questions of existence can only be 
 proved by arguments from cause and eifect, and hence are 
 merely contingent. Hume characteristically closes his 
 
 Epoch Lb.] 
 
 HUME. 
 
 199 
 
 * Inquiry concerning Human Understanding ' with the 
 following words : " When we run over libraries, persuaded 
 of these principles, what havoc must we make ? If we take 
 in our hand any volume— of divinity or school metaphysics 
 for instance— let us ask : Does it contain any abstract reason- 
 ing concerning quantity or number f ^o. Does it contain any 
 experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and exis- 
 tence f No. Commit it then to the flames; for it can 
 contain nothing but sophistry 'and illusion." 
 
 Hume regards as much more important than any mere 
 theoretical research that into the basis of morals. Will 
 and action exhibit a perfectly regular mechanism, the laws 
 of which can be as clearly presented as those of motion 
 and of light. He is thus a thorough-going determinist, 
 as this doctrine is generally understood. The very 
 admission of motives involves this principle, according to 
 Hume, while the punishment of the criminal is a practical 
 application of it ; for if his action were not the necessary 
 consequence of his character, no end would be served by 
 his punishment. This, however, does not exclude moral 
 judgment, any more than the fact of the beauty or ugli- 
 ness of an object, not being under its control, hinders 
 an artistic judgment on that object. 
 
 Hume's main division of the emotions and passions, 
 is into "calm," and "violent." "Of the first kind is 
 the sense of beauty and dt^formity in action, composition, 
 and external objects. Of the second are the passions 
 of love and hatred, grief and joy, pride and humility." 
 (Treatise, Book II. Part L, sect. 1). A further division of 
 the " violent " passions is into "direct" and " indirect." 
 *' By direct passions," says Hume, " I understand such as 
 arise immediately from good or evil, from pain or pleasure. 
 By indirect, such as proceed from the same principles, but 
 by i}iQ> conjunction of other qualities." Under the indirect 
 passions are included pride, humility, ambition, vanity, 
 love, hatred, envy, pity, malice, generosity, with their 
 dependents ; and under the direct passions, desire, aversion, 
 grief, joy, hope, fear, despair, and security. From the 
 primitive impressions of " pleasure and pain " proceed the 
 " prepense and averse motions of the mind." The reference 
 of these to the cause of the impressions, according as it is 
 
200 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b, 
 
 present or absent, produces joy or sorrow, hope or fear, 
 &c. These direct pashions lie at tlie foundation of the 
 more complex, indirect ones. Hume endeavours to show 
 the results of aseociation of ideas and impressions, in the 
 modification of the primitive passions. 
 
 The philosopher cannot properly accord praise or blame 
 to moral action; ethical judgments being on the same 
 footing as critical (aesthetic). Hume is thus in agree- 
 ment with Shaftesbury and Hutchison in placing virtue 
 in the same category with beauty, and in the hypothesis 
 of a moral sense, as the foundation of ethical judgments, 
 which he asserts express nothing more ^ than the 
 pleasure or the reverse which an action occasions in the 
 spectator. The possibility of this is deducible from the 
 feeling of aympathy or reciprocal communicability and 
 receptivity, which unites us with all sentient creatures, 
 but especially our fellow men. The condition of a moral 
 judgment is, that the action should not be regarded as an 
 independent event, but as the sign of a disposition of 
 character. Hume divides all virtues into natural and 
 artificial, the first including such as spring directly from 
 sympathy, and which in themselves are good and useful. 
 The second arise through the exigencies of society, and are 
 hence conventional, although not arbitrary: such^ as 
 probity, truthfulness, &c. Hence the idea of an original 
 social contract is groundless, or rather, the reverse of the 
 facts. The societas becouies a civitas, when a definite 
 government arises. A dictatorship becomes necessary 
 when the society is threatened from without, from which 
 it follows that the first form of government is absolute 
 monarchy. Since the state mainly exists for the sake of 
 protection, there are circumstances under which its 
 justification miglit cease. 
 
 Such is the course of the evolution of thought that, as 
 we have seen, what Berkeley had intended to put an end 
 to " Scepticism " and " Atheism," became the most power- 
 ful solvent of the foundation of traditional belief that the 
 eighteenth century produced in this country. 
 
 Epoch I,b.] 
 
 ( 201 ) 
 
 KEIB. 
 
 In Thomas Keid we have the progenitor of the large and 
 long-lived school of the Scotch psychologists. His phi- 
 losophy, which started with a polemic against Hume, has 
 been the fountain at which psychological Scotsmen 
 have drunk from, that time to this. His writings have 
 been read, re-read, annotated and amended by four gene- 
 rations of Scottish thinkers. Born in 1710 at Strachan. 
 in Kincardineshire, Reid lived an uneventful lite. Me 
 graduated in due course at Aberdeen, where he afterwards 
 was appointed Professor of Moral Philosophy. On the 
 resignation of Adam Smith, he succeeded to the same post 
 in the more important University of Cxlasgow In 1780 
 Reid resigned, passing the remainder of his lite m study 
 and retirement. He died in 1796. Reid's complete works 
 first appeared in 1785, but have been several times re- 
 printed, the best edition being that issued with annotations 
 by Sir William Hamilton. 
 
 The secret of the success of Reid among his countrymen 
 may be supposed to lie in his professed appeal to common- 
 sense, alike against the scepticism of H^me, and the 
 psychological idealism of Berkeley. To Reid the well- 
 known aphorism will aptly apply, that he said many 
 things that were true, and some things that were new ; but 
 unfortunately, that the things which were true were not 
 new, and the things which were new were not true.^ Mis 
 appeal to common-sense, in-so-far as it meant anything, is 
 certainly not new ; his assumption that his contemporarit-s, 
 Berkeley and Hume, denied the fact of common-sense, or 
 that its dictates were practicaUy irresistible, is as certainly 
 not true, notwithstanding some rhetorical passages in 
 Hume which might give colour to such a conclusion. 
 
 Reid starts by taking for granted as axioms an 
 astounding number of propositions, the first and foremost 
 being the immediate dicta of consciousness. "It a man 
 should take it into his head to think or to say that his 
 consciousness may deceive him, and to require proof that 
 it cannot, I know of no proof that can be given him ; ho 
 must be left to himself, as a man that denies first principles, 
 
202 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 without which there can be no reasoning. Every man 
 finds himself under a necessity of believing what conscious- 
 ness testifies, and everything that has this necessity is to 
 be taken as a first principle." (* Essays on the Intellectual 
 Powers/ I. 2). In this solemnly-expressed platitude is 
 summed up the whole of the Common Sense Philosophy. 
 This thesis, expanded into three volumes, may be apt to 
 suggest to the irreverent mind the hackneyed saying, by 
 BO means always true, so far as our experience goes, about 
 the Scotchman and the joke. Eeid proceeds to *' take for 
 granted," as he expresses it, personal identity based on 
 a "thinking principle" or mind. He sagely remarks 
 that " every man of a sound mind finds himself under a 
 necessity of believing his own identity and continued 
 existence. The conviction of this is immediate and irre- 
 sistible ; and if he should lose this conviction, it would 
 be a certain proof of insanity which is not to be remedied 
 by reasoning " (ibid.). 
 
 Reid further assumes as a first principle the very point 
 in dispute with Berkeley and Hume, namely, the existence 
 of external objects. Though he intends to take up the 
 argument against them, they would justly have in- 
 sisted that his whole attack was simply an igmratio 
 denchi, and that that of which he ostentatiously paraded 
 the assumption they had never questioned. 
 
 But after all that may be justly said in derogation of 
 Reid's claims as a thinker, it is not to be .denied that 
 there are some acute observations scattered here and 
 there throughout his works, and also that he makes some 
 scores against his more brilliant adversaries, as for instance 
 (Essays I. 1), where he touches the vulnerable point in 
 Hume's doctrine (which he received, by the way, as a 
 legacy from Locke), viz. the formulation of the distinction 
 between the outer and the inner orders of conscious states 
 as one merely of "force and vivacity." Reid truly 
 observes, " To differ in species is one thing ; to differ in 
 degree is another. Things which differ in degree only 
 must be of the same species. It is a maxim of common- 
 sense, admitted by all men, that greater and less do not 
 make a change of species. . . . To say, therefore, that 
 two different classes or species of perceptions are dis- 
 
 Epoch I.B.] THE FRENCH MATERIALIST SCHOOL. 
 
 203 
 
 tinguished by the different degrees of iheir force and 
 vivacity is to confound the difference of degree with the 
 difference of species, which every man of understanding 
 knows how to distinguish." And again : "Common-sense 
 convinces every man that a lively dream is no nearer to 
 reality tiian a faint one, and that if a man should dream 
 that he had all the wealth of Croesus, it would not put 
 one farthing in his pocket." All this is very apposite 
 criticism on Hume, so far as it goes, but it certainly does 
 not help the Reidian philosophy. 
 
 The fact is, that Reid saw a flaw in Berkeley and 
 Hume, and his whole system is a bungling attempt to 
 discover its real nature. But it was not by wholesale 
 assumptions and pragmatical assertions that this could 
 be done. Poor Reid's struggles to extricate himself and 
 human reason from the meshes of Scepticism, only resulted 
 in worse entanglement. There was at this time a young 
 Prtvat-docent at the Prussian University of Konigsberg, 
 who was also trying his hand on the same theme, but of 
 him we shall hear more anon. Reid's philosophy continued 
 to be taught in the Scotch universities by James Beattie 
 (1735-1803), Dngald Stewart (1753-1820). Thomas 
 Blown (1778-1820), &c. 
 
 THE FRENCH MATERIALIST SCHOOL. 
 
 We now pass from Scotland to France, where we shall 
 see the influence of the same movement of thought, 
 namely, that originating with Hobbes and Locke, ex- 
 hibited in the writings of the Abbe de Condillac, Bonnet, 
 Helvetiiis, &c., leading up to the great French materialist 
 school of the eighteenth century. 
 
 Etienne Bonnot de Condillac was bom in 1715 at Gre- 
 noble. He published his Essai sur Vorigine des Connaissances 
 Eumaines, in which he introduced Locke to his countrymen, 
 in 1746. His most important work is, however, his Troite 
 des Sensatimis (1754), in which his special line of differentia- 
 
204 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 Epoch I.b-] 
 
 HELVETIUS. 
 
 2C5 
 
 tiofi from Locke is shown. His Logique appeared shortly 
 before his death in 1780. His completed works (Pans, 
 1798) comprise twenty-three volumes. pi,„,pi,»„ 
 
 After irefuUy sheltering himself from the Ch^rchB 
 censure, CondiUac proceeds to develop the thesis known 
 as Sensationism, namely, that sensation is tV.e oiie source 
 and vehicle of knowledge,— the " thought " or " reflection 
 admitted by Locke being nothing more than transtormea 
 sensation. This he illustrates by the fiction of a stetue 
 endowed successively with the five senses. He first admits 
 the sense of smell, and seeks to show the extent of know- 
 ledge this sense alone would suffice to procure. He then 
 proceeds to discuss how the world would appear to a being 
 thus limited, on the addition of taste, hearing, &c. In 
 this he assumes that the simultaneity of an impression 
 with the remembrance of a previous one, in itself constitutes 
 a iudffment. The sense of feeling is singled out bv 
 Condillac from among the re«t, as being that through which 
 alone is obtained the idea of objectivity proper ; the 
 remainder only furnishing us with the impression of our 
 own affections or states. It is only the solid which leads us 
 to the knowledge of a world outside our own organs, i he 
 superiority of our Ben^e of feeling primarily dibtinguishes 
 us from the lower animals. , 
 
 The ideas of good and evil, like everyt iing else, are 
 ultimately traceable to sensation. Condillac criticises 
 Locke's doctrine of the association of ideas, while adopt- 
 ing it in the main. Kepeated coincidence of ideas leads 
 to their being necessarily combined. This is the origin 
 of complex ideas, which may thus be said to make them- 
 Belves. Nothing facilitates so much the fixation of these ^ 
 complex or combined ideas as the use of signs representing 
 them. Hence the power of language. The want of the 
 capacity for language in animals is as great a drawback to 
 their intelligence as regards the combination ot ideas as 
 their imperfect sense of feeling is as regards the elements 
 of such a combination. But though ideas may be combined 
 and recombined, it matters not in how complex a manner, 
 yet they are all ultimately reducible to sensations. 
 Penser c'est sentir, is the motto of CondiUac's «;"stem. 
 Condillac's contemporary, Charles Bonnet (1720-1790}, 
 
 %M 
 
 was independently working out the same line of thought. 
 Curiously enough, Bonnet even hit upon the illustration of 
 the statue, when he became aware of the fact that Con- 
 dillac had worked out the same idea five years previously. 
 Bonnet was in many respects more widely read at the time 
 than Condillac, though his philosophical writings did not 
 exercise so great an influence on the French eighteenth- 
 oentury movement. Bonnet was in a sense the founder 
 of what is known as physiological psychology. In both 
 his scientific and theological positions he approached 
 Priestley. He endeavoured to show the complete condi- 
 tioning of thought and sensation by cerebral and nervous 
 action ; but, like Priestley, he sought to elude the theo- 
 logical consequences of this doctrine by a resort to the 
 hypothesis of miracle. 
 
 Claude Adrien Helvetius, another contemporary writer, 
 (1715-1771), further carried out the ideas of Condillac. 
 Helvetius declines to regard the '* soul " as anything else 
 than the sum of its ideas. Since all ideas are ultimately 
 traceable to sensations or impressions of external objects, 
 all mental differences which we find among men are the 
 result merely of chance and outward circumstance, the 
 most potent influence in the formation of character being 
 education. The end of life is happiness, by happiness 
 being understood the greatest possible amount of animal 
 pleasure. There is no such thing as disinterested conduct. 
 Since society is merely the sum of individuals, individual 
 satisfaction, as such, contributes to the general well-being. 
 Self-love is the only motive of conduct ; its import in the 
 moral world being analogous to that of gravitation in the 
 physical. It is the lever of psychological no less than of 
 practical action. All knowledge is dependent upon the 
 attention and study which arises from the desire to escape 
 ennui. Still more obvious is it that all practical action in 
 life is traceable to self-interested motives. From this it 
 follows that no moral teaching, whose aim is not to show 
 that virtuous conduct is that most conducive to individual 
 happiness, is of any value. The state, by acting on this 
 principle in its system of jurisprudence, that is, by making 
 punishment attend criminal conduct, shows the tme 
 philosophic instinct. Helvetius is distinguished by con- 
 
206 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 [Epoch I j. 
 
 Epoch Lb.] 
 
 DIDEROT. 
 
 207 
 
 Biderable literary facility, and his works have been more 
 than once republished in a complete form. 
 
 Another influential writer of this period was JuLiEN 
 Offroy de la Mettrie (1709>1751) who was onginally led 
 through observation of the delirium produced m lever, to 
 a conviction of the absolute dependence of the psychical on 
 the physical. Like Condillac, Bonnet, and Helvetius, 
 whom he preceded by a few years, he proclaimed the 
 ultimate reduction of thought and will to feeling. Intelli- 
 irence would be impossible in a man brought up outside 
 human intercourse. In ethics La Mettrie was the deter- 
 mined opponent of asceticism, his conception ofhfe being 
 ably set forth in his "L'art de jouir." His polemic 
 against the convention and hypocrisy of human lite 
 ^nerally is especially eflfective. La Mettrie was a great 
 friend of Frederick the Great, who offered him an asylum 
 at his court from the persecutions on account ot his 
 materialism which drove him successively from France 
 and Holland, and at his death composed an elegy on him, 
 which was read before the Berlin Academy of bciences. 
 Voltaire facetiously styles him the " Court atheist. 
 
 A survey of any department of French eighteenth-century 
 literature would seem incomplete without some notice of 
 the great names of Voltaire and Kousseau. Their signib- 
 cance for the history of philosophy is, however, of the 
 smallest. Voltaire, whenever he touches on a philosophical 
 subject, does so from the standpoint of mechanical 
 eighteenth-century Deism. Rousseau is satisfied with a' 
 sentimental Deism, and is extremely bitter against the 
 materialists. In his Social Contract, as already mentioned, 
 he develops in a remarkable manner hints which were 
 thrown out by Hobbes, Locke, &c. But original reflections 
 on philosophy proper are entirely absent. 
 
 DIDEROT. 
 
 The most important original figure produced by the 
 French eighteenth - century movement m its more 
 strictly philosophical aspect is undoubtedly Denis Diderot, 
 bom 5th Oct. 1713. Diderot was originally destined for 
 the priesthood, but this career he soon abandoned for 
 
 • I 
 
 I) % 
 
 law, and this again for literature. Diderot had a truly 
 encyclopedic mind— a mind eminently adapted to be the 
 organising power of the great literary work with which 
 his name is most intimately associated. He possessed, 
 moreover, what in Voltaire and Rousseau was undoubtedly 
 lacking— a considerable speculative faculty. Diderot may 
 be said to have focussed the materialist movement. The 
 reading and translation of Shaftesbury's works first shook 
 his faith in his early creed, and resulted in the Promenade 
 d'un Sceptique, which, being impounded by government 
 before publication, did not see the light till after his 
 death. He soon developed into a deist in the ordinary 
 sense of the eighteenth-century man of letters, but was too 
 acute to rest long at this standpoint, and in the course of 
 a few years passed over to a logically carried-out materi- 
 alism. Diderot, after a life of many vicissitudes, alter- 
 nately persecuted and patronised in France, finding a 
 refuge at the court of the Empress Catherine of Russia, 
 &c., died 13th July, 1784. , . -, i 
 
 The pieces in which the mature Diderot is most clearly 
 exhibited on his philosophical side are the Interpre- 
 tation de la nature, the Entretien entre D'Alemhert et Diderot, 
 and the Beve de D'Alemhert, in the two latter of which, 
 as may be judged by the titles, his friend and coadjutor 
 on the Encydopedie, D'Alembert, plays a prominent part. 
 Several of the articles in the Encyclopedie itself are 
 rendered almost valueless owing to the fact that worldly 
 prudence induced the printer to modify them in an 
 orthodox sense before their publication. 
 
 Diderot may most accurately be described as a material- 
 istic monist. To him all nature was one ; the difference 
 between organic, inorganic, animal and human; were only 
 differences of degree. There was no such thing as dead 
 matter ; the molecule was no less an active agent than the 
 man. To employ an illustration of his : *' the great musical 
 instrument we call the universe plays itself." It does not 
 require a demiurge or dem ex machind to evoke its harmonies 
 and discords. Matter is itself active by its very nature, 
 itself sentient, itself conscious, potentially when not 
 actually. In other words matter, i.e. physical substance, is 
 the ultimate ground of all existence ; nature is the sum of 
 
208 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 its combinations. On© set of combinations manifests itself 
 as so-called inert, inorganic matter ; another set as organ- 
 ised sentient matter ; yet another as the thinking, feeling, 
 willing, animal or human body. Diderot admits, how- 
 ever, an original diversity in the primal constituents of 
 the various orders of material existences : " I term elements 
 the various and heterogeneous material substances necessary 
 to the general production of the phenomena of Nature, 
 and I term Nature, the actual general result, or the 
 successive general results, of the combinations of these 
 elements " (De V interpretation, Iviii.). Diderot proceeds to 
 suggest that animality had from all eternity its specific 
 elements," " confounded in the mass of matter," that they 
 gradually became united, and that thence vegetable, animal 
 and human life resulted. 
 
 The materialism of Diderot is rather akin to the doc- 
 trine of Anaxagoras, than to that of Demokritos (it was 
 Dynamism rather than Atomism), It is for this reason 
 that we class him as a monistic materialist, in spite of 
 certain passages which seem to make for a contrary as- 
 sumption ; more particularly since these are mainly to 
 be found in the earlier work just quoted. For instance, 
 in the Entretien we read : " There is but one substance 
 in the universe ; in man or in animal. The bird-organ is 
 of wood ; the man is of flesh. The canary is of flesh, the 
 musician is of a flesh differently organised ; but both have 
 the same origin, the same formation, the same functions, 
 and the same destiny." There is a remarkable passage in 
 the Beve, where Diderot, speaking through the mouth of 
 the sleeping D'Alembert, gives an almost exact repro- 
 duction of the doctrine of the Homoiomerai. " Everything 
 18 more or less some one thing, more or less earth, more or 
 less water, more or less air, more or less fire, more or less 
 of one kingdom or of another; for mjthing is of the 
 essence of a particular being. No, assuredly, since there 
 is no quality of which some being is not participant, and 
 it is the greater or less amount of this quality which makes 
 us attribute it to one being rather than to another. You 
 speak of individuals, indeed, poor philosophers! Let 
 your individuals be; answer me! Is there an atom in 
 nature strictly like another atom ? No. Do you not admit 
 
 Erocii I.B.] 
 
 DIDEROT. 
 
 209 
 
 that everything in nature hangs together, and that it is 
 impossible there can be a break in the chain ? How then 
 about your individuals ? There are none ; there is but 
 one great individual, and that is the All. In this All, as 
 in a machine or an animal, there is a part which .you call 
 this or that ; and when you give the name individual to 
 this part of the whole, it is by virtue of as false a con- 
 ception as if in a bird you were to give the name 
 individual to a wing or to a feather of the wmg. And 
 you talk of essences, poor philosophers ! Let your essences 
 be ! Bebold the general mass, or, if your imagination is 
 too narrow to embrace that, behold your first origin and 
 your last destiny. Oh Architas ! you who have measured 
 the globe, what are you ? A little ashes. AVhat is a 
 being? The sum of a certain number of tendencies. Can 
 I be anything else than a tendency? No, 1 am advancing 
 towards an end ( Je vais a un terme). And species ? Species 
 are only tendencies towards a common end which is their 
 own. And life? Life is a succession of actions and 
 reactions. Living, I act and react in mass ; dead, I act 
 and react in molecules. I do not die then ? No, assuredly 
 I do not die in this sense ; neither I nor anything else. 
 To be born, to live and to pass away, is but change of 
 form. And what matters, one form or another? Each form 
 has its own good and ill fortune. From the elephant 
 to the grub, from the grub to the sensible and living 
 molecule, the origin of all, there is no point in all nature 
 which does not sufier or enjoy." 
 
 And again, in the short essay Sur la Matiere et le 
 Mouvement : " I cast my eyes over the general aggregation 
 of bodies ; I see everything in action and reaction ; every- 
 thing destroying itself under one form, everything recom- 
 posing itself under another ; sublimations, dissolutions, 
 combinations, of all kinds ; phenomena incompatible with 
 the homogeneity of matter ; whence I conclude that it is 
 heterogeneous; that there exists an infinity of divei'se 
 elements in nature ; that each of these elements, by its 
 diversity, has its particular force, innate, immovable, 
 eternal, indestructible ; and that these forces within the 
 body have their action without the body ; whence springs 
 the movement, or rather the general fermentation of the 
 
210 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b, 
 
 nniverse." The force inherent in matter i'b at once the 
 varying and uniting principle of the whole. It will be 
 readily seen that the materialism of Diderot differs in 
 Borae not unessential points from the scientific materialism 
 of the present day, and also that his several statements 
 of the doctrine are not always consistent with one another. 
 The first is but natural and to be expected. Our admiration 
 for the luminous suggestions of the eighteeenth-century 
 writer will not be lessened by the few crudities from the 
 point of view of modern science which cling to them ; while 
 as to the second point, it must be borne in mind that 
 Diderot was primarily a man of letters rather than an exact 
 thinker. 
 
 In method, Diderot is of course a thorough-going 
 empiricist. Materialism is the logical development of 
 empiricism, the truth which it implicitly contains. In 
 the Entretien, D'Alembert is made to observe that according 
 to the system propounded by Diderot it is impossible to 
 conceive " how we form syllogisms, or how deduce their 
 consequences." To this Diderot replies that we do not 
 deduce them, that they are deduced for us by nature. 
 " We do but proclaim conjoint phenomena of which the 
 connection is either necessary or contingent, phenomena 
 which are known to us through experience ; necessary in 
 mathematics, rigorous in physics and other sciences; 
 contingent in morals, politics and the rest of the specula- 
 tive sciences." To the question whether the connection 
 between phenomena is less necessary in one case than in 
 another, Diderot replies, " No, but the cause is subject to 
 too many particular vicissitudes which elude us, for us to 
 bo able to reckon infallibly on the effect which will ensue. 
 The certainty we have that a violent man will be irritated 
 by an insult is not the same as the certainty that a body 
 which strikes a smaller onu will set the latter in motion." 
 We have quoted frtjiii Diderot at comparative length, 
 inasmuch as he represents the most finished literary 
 expression of the materialist movement. But the classical 
 text-book of this movement is not to be found in the 
 elegant and chatty dialogues and essays of the French 
 litterateur, but in the more systematic thouuh drier pages 
 (jf the Sy8tf}me de la Nature, originally published under the 
 
 Kpoch I.e.] 
 
 d'holbach. 
 
 211 
 
 name of the elder Mirabeau, but now known to be the 
 work of the Baron d'Holbach and the habitues of his 
 salon. 
 
 D'HOLBACH. 
 
 D'HoLBACH, or to give him his full title, Paul Heinrich 
 Dietrich, Baron von Holbach, was bom 1721, at Heides- 
 heim, in Germany, and educated in Paris, where he spent 
 the greater part of his life, amid the wits, men of letters, 
 and " philosophers " of the pre-revolutionary era. He died 
 21st February, 1789. 
 
 The Systeme de la Nature is a systematic embodiment 
 and exposition of the principles of the dominant naate- 
 rialism. In it we find the Empiricism of the British 
 school, the Sensationism of Condillac, its pendant, the 
 self-interest ethics of Ilelvetius, the physiology and epi- 
 cureanism of Lamettrie ; the whole forming the bible of 
 materialism as understood in France during the eighteenth 
 century. The only existence is matter,, i.e. physical 
 substance and the motion that is inherent in it. The 
 complex of all things is termed nature, which constitutes 
 the whole, inasmuch as all things stand in a causal rela- 
 tion to one another. Hence everything in nature is 
 necessary. The three conditions of motion in the physical 
 world are inertia, attraction, and repulsion. Motion is 
 brought about through the inequalities in the degrees of 
 attraction and repulsion in bodies. The same forces 
 appear in the moral world as self-interest, love and 
 hate. The only difference between the physical and the 
 moral consists in the difference between the visible motion 
 of masses, i.e. of complex systems of ^lolecules, and the 
 invisible motion of the molecules themselves. Thought, 
 will, and feeling consist in the molecular motion of brain 
 and nerve substance. Owing to this not having been 
 recognised, dualism, or the doctrine of two substances, a 
 mental and a material, with all its train of fallacies, has 
 arisen. Perception is nothing but the setting in motion 
 of the molecular system of the brain and nerves l»y 
 impact from without. It cannot be decided whether 
 Bensibility is, as Diderot suggested, present in every 
 •^ p 2 
 
212 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch I.b. 
 
 portion of matter, or whether organisation is its essential 
 condition. Moral action is a necessary consequence of 
 temperament, which simply denotes the relative propor- 
 tions of the solid and the fluid matters in the system. 
 There is nothing more spiritual in love and hate, or in the 
 numberless passions of which these two are the foun- 
 dation, than there is in the phenomena of gravitation 
 or of impact. The only difference is, as before said, 
 that ill the one case we can see the material motion 
 which produces the phenomenon, in the otlier it is hidden 
 
 from us. 
 
 It was only natural, after men had constituted them- 
 selves into a double existence, that they should extend 
 this theory to the universe at large. Hence arose the 
 conception of a God over against the world, a conception 
 which explains nothing, does no one any good, frightens 
 the fwlish, and the folly of which is manifest in the 
 fact that it can be expressed only by negations. The 
 contradiction of ascribing to the deity human passions 
 and morality, after removing him altogether from the 
 sphere of the conceivable, is dwelt on. To the rational 
 man there is no god beyond the force which moves the 
 universe, appearing now as mechanical motion, now as 
 sensibility, now as thought ; to him there is no providence 
 but the invariable laws of nature. D'Holbach and his 
 friends are uncompromising in their attacks on the 
 eighteenth-century theory, which justified stiperstition, on 
 the ground of edification. To teach error for the sake of 
 curbing the passions of men, is like instilling poison lest 
 strength and health should be misused. 
 
 The doctrine of free-will is stigmatised as a cunning 
 device for maintaining the credit of the deity in the face 
 of the evils of the world. The adherents of the doctrine 
 forget that an uncaused event would suppose quite a 
 difierent world from this, and that a really free agent could 
 be nothing less than a creator. The immorality of the 
 belief in a future life is also insisted upon as tending to 
 the neglect of the real world and of its pleasures and 
 duties. A thorongh-going materialism is alone consistent 
 with common-sense and human dignity, inasmuch as it 
 frees men from the degrading fear of imaginary evils and 
 
 Epoch I.b.] 
 
 DHOLBACH. 
 
 213 
 
 from useless regrets. The materialist has neither concern 
 for the future, nor remorse for the past ; all that happens, 
 moral no less than mechanical actions, being the necessary 
 outcome of the nature of things. Vice and crime are to 
 the materialist mere disease. The latter would supplant 
 the preacher and the judge by the teacher and the phy- 
 sician. He would be content to make men healthy in 
 body, and to train them to see that their own interest lies 
 in virtue, knowing that crime would thus become ever 
 more rare, until it altogether ceased. 
 
 The Systhm de la Nature marks an epoch. Though, 
 for obvious reasons, it has been persistently depreciated, 
 its power, honesty and logicality, produced an immediate 
 and widespread effect on contemporary thought. It suc- 
 ceeded in sweeping away the cobwebs of traditional belief 
 from many a mind, and in utterly discrecliting the senti- 
 mental Deism then popular. As against the inconsequent 
 doctrines, philosophical and other, which were opposed to 
 it, it was unanswerable, while its noble and humane moral 
 teachings were the inspiring and sustaining power of 
 numbers a few years later, whether in civil conflict or m 
 the tumbril carrying them to the guillotine. 
 
 The ideas contained in the Systeme de la Nature were 
 developed on their scientific side by various savants, 
 notably Cahanis, Claude, and Testutt de Tracy. Cahania 
 (1758-1808) made at distinct advance on D'Holbach by 
 identifying psychological processes rather with chemical 
 and organic than with mechanical action. Cahanis is, 
 however, chiefly famed for his crude and singularly 
 unhappy analogy between the cerebral and visceral 
 
 systems. «-r^,-rT n t. • r -v 
 
 Of analogous nature to the error of D Holbach in tailing 
 
 to distinguish between organic or vital processes and 
 
 mechanical, is that which he exhibits in failing to see 
 
 the difference between physiological and social processes. 
 
 He would trace the existence of vice and crime to certain 
 
 pathological states of the individual's body or mind, rather 
 
 than to the economic and social conditions into which the 
 
 individual is born. 
 
( 214 ) 
 
 [Epoch II 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 SECOND EPOCH. 
 KANT AND THE POST-KANTIANS. 
 
 -•o*- 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Eetrospective and Prospective. 
 
 We have now passed in review since the beginning of 
 the modern period, two distinct lines of philosophic 
 thought, the one springing from Descartes and his school, 
 and the other from Bacon and IIol)l>os. In the first the 
 abstract concept arrived at by reflection is made the 
 unconditional test of truth, its validity that is, is apart 
 from and even outside all experience. Descartes began his 
 new departure in pliilosopliy V>y tlie illogically constructed 
 proposition, I tJiinl; therefore I am. This was the funda- 
 mental axiom of all knowledge, the certainty of certainties. 
 But what was this / of which Dos(jjirtes talked ? Upon 
 this question inucli hinges. 
 
 In the view of the jtresent writer, eminent authorities 
 to the contrary notwithstanding, the result clearly showed 
 it to have been the " internal " object arrived at by 
 reflection — the individual mind. At least if Descartes 
 meant anything other than tliis at starting, he certainly 
 very soon lost sight of it ; for the whole of his philosophy 
 proceeds on the foregoing assumption, and proceeds on it 
 Bimply enough. The thinking indivi.lual once postulated 
 as the 2>^^^^j "the clearness and distinctness" of its ideas 
 or abstract mental concepts, Vtecomes naturally the basis 
 of truth and its only ultimate criterion, in other words, the 
 reflective ruasrui is the key to the problems of philosoi)hy, 
 unalloyed l)y tlio Itaser matter of sense. The idea of God 
 is attained in this way, similarly that of an independent 
 
 Epoch H.] KANT AND THE POST-KANTIANS. 
 
 215 
 
 though created external world, &c., &c. The possession of 
 certain fundamental ideas justified the construction out of 
 them of a dogmatic system irrespective of experience. 
 Malebranche, accepting the main Cartesian positions, and 
 taking his stand on the idea of substance, asked how two 
 distinct substances, mind and body, could come into a 
 position of reciprocal relatitjn. This question he answered 
 by constituting the Divine substance which was the 
 origin of both, the modus vivendi between them. The 
 abstract conception substance as defined by Descartes 
 became the fulcrum upon which his philosophy turned. 
 This principle was further and independently carried out 
 by Spinoza, who, taking the same concept, denied, by its 
 very definition, the possibility of a plurality of substances. 
 He accordingly affirmed God to be the one substance, of 
 which mind and Ijody or Thought and Extension were the 
 attributes, the reality and correspondence of which were 
 given only in their relation to tliis substance. Out of the 
 two psychologically '* clear and distinct " ideas of substance 
 and attribute, the system of 8i)inoza was formed. 
 
 Leibnitz, starting essentially from the -same principle, 
 though endeavouring to give it precision by sundry 
 limitations and corrections, the principle, namely, that the 
 "clearness and distinctness" of the mental concept is the 
 ultimate criterion of all truth, evolved a pluralistic 
 ontology, the antithesis on this historical plane of the 
 Spinozistio Monism. Wolff, Baumgarten, Crusius, &c., all 
 adhered to the same principle of method, though intro- 
 ducing various modifications into the results of the 
 Leibnitzian speculations. 
 
 These schools, si)ringing from Descartes, are what are 
 termed the Dogmatic or Austkact metaithysical schools. 
 They are systems to be received from the hands^ of a 
 teacher — what the ordinary man has confusedly in his 
 mind when he rails at all things metaphysical. Side by 
 side with this development on the Cimtinent, there was, as 
 we have seen, another going on in this country. Bacon 
 had laid down the inductive principle, had pronounced 
 the method of all investigation to be the observation, 
 CoUegation and comj>arison of individual facts. Tliis 
 Hobbes had adopted in his philosophical investigations, 
 
216 
 
 MODERN nilLOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch H. 
 
 which consisted in the study of what passed in his own 
 mind, in other words, of the manner m which the 
 individual mind opens up (so to speak) to the perception 
 of a fully-fledged objective world— of the world as known. 
 Locke, following on this line, attacked the theory of '' in- 
 nate ideas," as he termed them, by which he pr(.»bably 
 meant the Cartesian mental concept, this polemic consti- 
 tuting the framework of his essay. For Locke, the main 
 question of philosophy was, is the individual born into the 
 world with any ready-made, concrete ideas in his mind, or 
 does he derive all his knowledge through experience? 
 
 The question as thus put, it was, of course, not difficult 
 to answer, and to answer in tlie sense in which Locke did 
 answer it. He said in effect, all knowledge is derived 
 from experience, or to put it popularly, through the 
 senses. Berkeley pursued this idea to its logical con- 
 clusion on the one side, when he denied that an external 
 world of " matter " had any existence except in a perceiving 
 mind, for, said he, we only know it through experience 
 as perceived, any other kind of existence we can only infer, 
 and as he demonstrated, illegitimately infer. Hume, 
 accepting the conclusions of Locke and Berkeley, earned 
 them to an equally logical conclusion, on aaiother side, 
 when he showed *'mind" or *'soiil*' itself, regarded as an 
 entity, to be an illegitimate inference from the succession 
 of thoughts and feelings which is all that experience 
 gives us. Emx)iricism, the necessary outcome of inductiyo 
 psychology, issued as necessarily when fully carried out in 
 i)ure phenomenalism or scepticism. The French sensa- 
 tionists and materialists, starting from Locke's incomplete 
 Empiricism, are the counterimrt of Berkeley's Ideahsm, 
 their analysis being equally correct as far as it went, but 
 equally incomplete and inadequate. While Berkeley 
 rejected the entity "matter" but retained the entity 
 " mind," they got rid of the entity " mind " but retained 
 the entity " matter." On the basis of his solo existence, 
 " mind," Berkeley sought to establish a dogmatic Theism 
 or Spiritualism. On the basis of their sole existence, 
 "matter," they sought to rear a dogmatic Materialism or 
 IVIcehanicism. Though we are far from placing the posi- 
 tivo resulta of the two procedures uu a level; we must 
 
 Epoch IL] KANT AND THE POST-KANTIANS. 
 
 217 
 
 point out that, philosophically viewed, they are on 
 precisely the same plane. The practical difference between 
 their results is, that Berkeley's work, important as it was, 
 was mainly negative, while that of the materialists laid the 
 foundation, to a large extent, of modern science. 
 
 Both the foregoing lines of investigation, as will be 
 seen, started from the individual mind as object. It 
 was the "clearness and distinctness" of the concept 
 that the individual mind forms, which was the test of 
 truth for the Cartesian. It was the reproduction of a 
 world already assumed as existent in the mmcl of the 
 individual, that was the problem to be investigated for 
 Hobbes and Locke. Even for Berkeley, the ;' finite 
 spirits" and the "infinite spirit" respectively, m and 
 for which alone matter existed, were concrete individuai 
 minds of men, and the similarly concrete and individual, 
 thouffh magnified mind of the creatoi-, which was, so to 
 speak, over against and distinct from them, as they were 
 •from each other. Similarly for the Sensatioiusts the 
 problem was the action of the assumed material world 
 upon the sensory system of the individual. Hence it is 
 that Spinoza's Monism was such a riddle to his contem- 
 poraries and successors till the present century, dogmatic 
 metaphysicians and empirical i)sychologists alike. 
 
 The main speculative result of this evolution, both 
 dogmatic and empirical, was the distinction of subject 
 and object, that is, of perceiver and perceived thinker 
 and thought, knowing mind and known world, ihis 
 was the main issue of a whole series of problems and 
 distinctions which had never troubled the schoolmen or 
 the ancients, but which rose up before the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth century thinker, once he had decisively 
 turned his back on the classical and medueval speculative 
 landscape. Not until Kant, however, did the distinction 
 receive definite expression and become cardinal. Ihe 
 definite fixation of this distinction, which belongs essen- 
 tiallv to the empirical or psychological plane of thought, 
 discloses the inherent contradiction in Empiricism. Ilence 
 Kant represents at the same time the culmination and the 
 bankruptcy of this line of thought. In the Critlfpie he 
 endeavours to treat the deeper issues involved in * Theory 
 
218 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 of Knowledge,' of whicli lie waa the first to catch a 
 glimpse, on the lines of this mere psychological distinc- 
 tion. His success and his failure were alike written in 
 the history of the subsequeut philosophic evolution. 
 
 The above, then, was the state of philosophy in the 
 second half of the eighteenth century. On the one side 
 were the dogmatic iiietapbysicians, assuming the clearness 
 and distinctness of the thinkers* concepts, to be a test of 
 their objective truth or reality; on the other, the em- 
 pirical psychologists, who maintained all concepts to be 
 originally derived from concrete experience, which was 
 hence at once the source and ultimate criterion of truth. ^ 
 
 Kant, following a hint dropped by Hume, namely, his 
 distinction between the necessity attaching to mathe- 
 matics, and the contingency of "matters of fact and 
 experience," was led to put the crucial question, What is 
 experience? i.e. what is this concreteness we call reality? 
 With the Lockeian school, Kant admitted that every 
 cjoncrete concept can come only through experience — 
 indeed, this was of the nature of a platitude to him— but 
 his great merit lies in having seen, if imperfectly, the issue 
 which lay beyond this nu-re psycholugical question, the 
 question, namely, as to the conditions of experience itself? 
 In investigating this, Kant found that experience or 
 perception was not wholly sensuous, that the pheno- 
 menon was more than a ready-made impression passively 
 received from without, that it involved a thought or 
 active element — in short, that the mere sense-impression 
 had first of all to be determined by a category or pure 
 concept before it could become experience. Further 
 investigation proved this to lie deeper than the object of 
 reflection, the individual self, with which alone philo- 
 sophers had been hitherto concerned. The pure concept, 
 which entered so intimately ioto the essence of the 
 concrete, was universal and necessary, while all that 
 existed for the individual as such was merely empirical 
 and contingent. Kant proceeded to trace the categories or 
 pure concepts, determining the real (which lie had hit 
 upon in a somewhat haphazard manner) back to their 
 source, and original first principle. This proved to be, 
 not the self or mental synthesis determined in time by 
 
 Epoch IL] KANT AKD THE P0ST-KANTIAN8. 219 
 
 memory, but the I for which time is, and which Kant 
 designates the original synthetic unity of consciousness or 
 apperception. The old antagonism of Materialism and 
 Idealism is clearly absorbed in this more thoroughgoing 
 analysis. -Mind" and "body" cease to be separate 
 entities, mutually exclusive of one another, and are dis- 
 closed as the same fact diff'erently categorised A short 
 sketch of the successive changes of attitude imphed m the 
 passage from the common-sense view of t]ie^«f P^^^^//*' 
 phicaT man, through Empiricism to that of Kant and the 
 post-Kantian thinkers, may facilitate an understanding of 
 much that follows, which, without some kind of key, would 
 be scarcely intelligible to the reader unversed m the 
 
 °^The* ordinary man believes the phenomena of the 
 .world to be things existing in themseOves and apart from 
 their cognition. The Berkeleian or Humean philosopher 
 disi>els this belief of his by e. redurUo ad ahmrdum to 
 wit, by pointing out to him that the thing object, or 
 matter: all, namely, that is perceived ^^^^ernally to our- 
 selves, is nothing but a congeries of affect >ns or deter- 
 minations of consciousness, as much so as the thoughts, 
 feelinc^s, and volitions which are unmistakably peculiar to 
 himself as an individual. He is therefore immediately seized 
 with a sense as of living in a dream-world, a world of phan- 
 tasms, since the outer world is shown to have no more m- 
 dei>endeiice of the feet of being kno^vn, felt, and perceived, 
 than the inner. Both alike consist of impressions and ideas 
 and he fails to discover-his old land-mark independent 
 
 existence, being remove.l--any g^^'^'^f ^^''^''IP^^^^^ 
 tween them. The real table and his recollection of the table 
 are alike determinations of his consciousness. But this 
 Btate of mind cannot permanently endure. The absurdity 
 of confounding empirical reality and empirical ideality m 
 one category, the instability of an attitude which logically 
 carried out makes the individual absolute, at once centre 
 and peripliery of the universe, carries its o^nrpduciio ad 
 ahsurdumKyiiii it. The world refuses to be phdosophised 
 away, and forces to a reconsideration of the problem. 
 
 The first departure from a state of iim(jcence established 
 one fact, namely, that a world outside consciousness m 
 
220 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 nonsense and a contradiction in terms. A retnm to crude 
 realism therefore is out of the question. The head and 
 front of the offending difficulty is not to be found in the 
 first position of philosophy arrived at in the departure 
 from common-sense, which reduced the world to a system 
 of determinations of a feeling and thinking subject. May 
 it not lie in a loose employment of the words knowledge, 
 feeling, consciousness? Our philosophical neophyte pro- 
 ceeds to examine them. This examination proves that 
 these words have been used in a different sense in the 
 premises of the argument to that in which they have been 
 used in the conclusion, in short, that it involves the fallacy 
 a dicto simpliciter ad dictum secundum quid. The first posi- 
 tion of i)hilosophy merely reduced reality to determinations 
 of knowledge, or feeling and thinking, i.e, of a conscious 
 subject. The conclusion implicitly or explicitly drawn as 
 to the illusoriness of reality is based on the assumption 
 that the subject referred to is the subject which is at the 
 same time object, the synthesis determined by memory, 
 that is, reproduced in time, the individual mind. All with- 
 in the sphere of this latter, or psychological synthesis, is 
 of course of merely individual significance, is purely em- 
 pirical. The conclusion arbitrarily imports into the terms 
 used a psychologiad meaning, as implying the completed 
 actuality immediately present in the individual mind, while 
 in the premises no such limitation is contained. 
 
 But, says our empiricist, I only know of thought or 
 feeling as appertaining to myself as an individual. No, 
 interposes the speculative thinker, who at this stage steps 
 in to the rescue. In this assumption consists the cul-de-sac 
 in which you find yourself cauglit. You assume know- 
 ledge or consciousness to be identical with the reproductive 
 synthesis constituting the individual mind, but analysis— 
 nay, ordinary experience itself —gives the lie to this as- 
 sumption. The objective world, which you have already 
 seen to be nothing more than related feelings (or states 
 of consciousness, if you will), refuses to be reduced to a 
 mere series of your personal feelings nr states of conscious- 
 ness. You and I alike perceive the table, tlio same table, 
 not two different impressions of an occult table in itself, 
 as the imperfectly developed empiricist supposes, nor two 
 
 Epoch II.] KANT AND THE POST-KANTIANS. 
 
 221 
 
 different tables, as the psychological idealist must needs 
 suppose ; else thought and language have no meaning. 
 This objective point, at which our consciousness ceases to be 
 distinguishable as mine and yours, but which to me and to 
 you, so far as we are individuals, is given as for all possible 
 cmisciousncss, is not a mere determination of me, i.e. of my 
 mind, like my personal thoughts, feelings, and desires, 
 but is a determination of that ego or subject for which 
 my mind itself is object, of the I which is never- in con- 
 sciousness, inasmuch as it is the subject of consciousness. 
 The objective, then, is that element or factor in knowledge 
 which though|;er se extra-individual, the individual makes 
 his own V)y reproducing in his concepts. Psychology is 
 the science which traces the process of reproduction. For 
 the individual it is mediate, unlike his thoughts and 
 feelings which are immediate. This necessary and 
 universal or object-element in knowledge or consciousness, 
 it is, which constitutes its reality. The term real dis- 
 tinguishes it from the merely psychological element which 
 is popularly expressed by the word ideal. 
 
 In accordance with the foregoing, there are three points 
 of view from which the world may be regarded. There is 
 the standpoint of physical or natural science, which con- 
 cerns itself exclusively with the objectively real. Here 
 abstraction is made from the self-determining subject, and 
 the processes of the production of the real, as well as 
 those of its reproduction in the individual mind, in other 
 words, of the problems of metaphysic and psychology re- 
 spectively. The abstract real, the fully-fledged object in 
 space and time, but abstracted from the principle of 
 its generic possibility, and treated as an existent, is 
 viewed in the same way as by the unreflective common- 
 sense of the ordinary man and the crude empiricist. 
 The ultimate expression of the objective real is, physical 
 substance, static and dynamic, the " matter and motion " 
 of the materialists. To physical substance and to its 
 categories of determination, and to this alone, the whole 
 sum'of things is legitimately reducible from this point of 
 
 view. 
 
 Again, there is the standpoint of psychology, which 
 views the world simply as reproduced in the "mind.' 
 
222 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II 
 
 This is the standpoint of Berkeleian idealism proper, 
 As in science, " matter " is treated as an abstract entity, so 
 here, *' mind " is treated as an abstract entity, as the 
 receptacle of "impressions and ideas," also regarded as 
 independent existences. The universe of psychology is 
 " mind " and " ideas." 
 
 Lastly, there is the synthetic point of view of the 
 Bpeculative method, which treats the world under its most 
 comprehensive and concrete a8|>ect, as a syhtem of deter- 
 minations of knowledge or con scion sn ess— or rather of the 
 Subject, the I, or I-ness, which is the ultimate condition of 
 the possibility of consciousness-in-general, and which, as 
 such, can i ever, per se, be object of consciousness, like the 
 self or mind of psychology. On this principle the con- 
 crete-real is seen in the last resort to consist in the 
 syntheses of relations, or I determinations. How from 
 this is deducible the method by which all evolution is 
 determinable we shall see later on. 
 
 We may observe respecting the three ways of ap- 
 proaching the world-problem, that the materia jyrima of 
 natural science is corporeality, extending- resistimce ; its 
 universal form is motion. This is the lowest term to 
 which the universe is reducible on the lines of " common- 
 BcnKc " and '* abstract " reality, i.e. the universe in space- 
 and-timo. Outside this there is no rational principle of 
 explanation — in other words, there is no phenomenon in 
 space-and-time which cannot be expressed in terms of 
 matter-motion. Again, the materia prima of psychology is 
 mind, its universal form being ideation. Tlie psycho- 
 logical universe which is in time merely, is reducible to 
 terms of mind (impressions and ideas). Finally, the raw 
 material, the matter of *' Theory of Knowledge " is I-ness, 
 i.e. the potentiality of conscioumess, its universal form 
 being experience, hmcledge, or consciousness - in - general. 
 ** Theory of Knowledge," it will thus be seen, embraces, 
 while it transcends the two former standpoints. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the foregoing is to be found, 
 in so many words, in Kant. Jjikeall intellectual pioneers, 
 Kant clung to many of tlie crudities of his predecessors 
 even till the end. He never completely disengaged him- 
 self from crude realism, or a-' least from its survival in 
 
 Epoch II.] KANT AND THE POST-KANTIANS. 
 
 223 
 
 the Lockean doctrine ; for the " things-in-themselves " of 
 Kant are essentially a hybrid between the "substance" 
 of Locke and the Leibnitzian monads with which Kant's 
 earlier philosophical training had familiarised him. The 
 whole Critique of pure Reason (Kant's greatest work) is, 
 moreover, cast in a psychological form, although the true 
 nature of the problem it is concerned with continually 
 forces its way through. 
 
 But though the above exposition is not expressed in so 
 many words by Kant, it is indicated in every page of his 
 writings, and was substantially the result evolved from 
 his main position in the course of the post-Kantian 
 Movement. 
 
224 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 KANT. 
 
 Immanuel Kant was born April 22nd, 1724, at Kdnigsbercr, 
 in which city he resided with but few intermissiona 
 throughout a long life. He was of Scotch descent on his 
 father's side, the name having been properly 8i)elt Cant .• 
 Kant entered the university of his native city as a 
 theological student, a faculty which he subsequently 
 forsook in favour of philosophy. His first work was an 
 academical essay entitled " Thoughts on the true estima- 
 tion of the Vital Powers." Shortly after the publication 
 of this treatise he left the city, and for several years 
 occupied the post of private tutor in various aristocratic 
 families. In 1755 he returned to Konigsberg, where he 
 obtained the ixjsition of Privat-docent in the university. 
 He now began to devote himself in earnest to literary 
 work. The Latin essay which preceded his installation in 
 bis academical functions, sought to mediate between Wolff 
 and Crucius. His next important work, the * General 
 Natural History and Theory of the Heavens,' is similarly 
 designed to effect a modus vivendi between Newton and 
 Leibnitz. Various logical, metaphysical, and scientific 
 essays followed in rapid succession. The Latin disserta- 
 tion "On the form and principle of the sensible and 
 intelligible world," constitutes the turning-point in Kant's 
 philosophical career. Therein we find the awakened 
 Kant endeavouring to formulate the problem of which the 
 * Critique ' was to be the attempted solution. This work 
 was his test-essay for the professorsliip of philosophy, 
 which he entered* upon in 1770. For eleven years sub- 
 sequently, Kant was ceaselessly occupied with the prob- 
 lems indicated in this disserfcitioii, the result of his cogita- 
 tions being the appearance in 1781 of * The Critique of 
 
 * The reason for change of orthography assigned by Kant himself, 
 is the rather enigmatical one that it waa in consequence of the 
 tendency of liis countrymen to pronounce the name as though it 
 began with Z (Zant). 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 225 
 
 the Puie Reason,' a work which, in spite of its long in- 
 ception, in actual writing out only occupied its author five 
 months. This was followed in 1783 by the * Prolegomena 
 to every future Metaphysic,' an abstract of the Last- 
 mentioned treatise ; by a second and somewhat mollified 
 edition of *The Critique' in 1784; by 'The Foundation 
 for the Metaphysic of Ethic' in 1786 ; by the 'Metaphy- 
 sical Foundations of Natuial Science' in 1787 ; and the 
 'Critique of Practical Reason' in 1788. In 1790 
 appeared the ' Critique of Judgment,' a work exhibiting 
 a visible falling-off in powder, which may also be said of 
 'Religion within the boundary of Mere Reason' (1793). 
 The last important work from Kant's own pen was the 
 'Anthropology,' which saw the light in 1798. Sub- 
 sequonily to this, however, Kant's lectures on "Logic," on 
 "Physical Geo;rra])hy," and on "Pedagogic," ^vere all 
 published by his puf.ils during his lifetime. Kant died 
 the nth of February, 1804, aged eighty. 
 
 Three complete editions of Kant's works have been 
 issued, that of Hartenstein (Leipsic, 1838-39, second 
 edition 1866) in ten volumes ; that of Roseiikranz and 
 Schubert, comprising a biography and a history of the 
 Kantian Philosophy (Leipsic, 1840-42) in twelve volume^ ; 
 and the latest, that of Kirchmann (Berlin, 1868) m eight 
 volumes, with a supplementary volume of annotations by 
 the editor. 
 
 "TuE Critical Doctrine." 
 
 The guise in which the great problems comprised under 
 what is termed " Theory of Knowledge," problenis which 
 t(»uch the foundations of consciousness and reality, pre- 
 sented themselves to Kant, fresh from the reading of 
 Hume and the Empirical school, was the at first sight 
 unpretentious psychological question, " How are synthetic 
 propositions a priori possible?" The classification of 
 propositions into analytic, or those in which the predicate 
 18 already contained in the subject, and which are there- 
 fore virtually identical ; and synthetic, or those m which 
 the predicate adds something to the subject which is not 
 already contained in its definition, we have already found 
 
226 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [ErocH n. 
 
 in Locke, although in other words. The distinction ia 
 practically the same as tliat between verbal ami real 
 predication. Now there is no doubt that all analytic 
 propositions are a priori, that is, independent of any 
 particular experience ; also that they carry with them a 
 logical necessity and universality. There is equally little 
 doubt, that most synthetic propositions (the Empiricists 
 would say all) have their origin in particular experience, 
 in other words, are a postenorL Kant, however, found 
 certain propositions, such, to wit, as the fundamental 
 axioms of mathematics, and some others of equal, or even 
 greater importance, whose nature we shall see directly, 
 which by the " universality and necessity " that charac- 
 terised them, proclaimed their origin, as indefiendent of any 
 number of particular or individual ex i>eriences whatsoever, 
 in short, as a priori. Experience itself presupi)08ed them ; 
 they formed part of the constitution of every particular 
 experience ; withont them, experience would be impossible 
 or meaningless; it would no longer he experience. This 
 universality and necessity was not merely logical, like 
 that of analytic judgments, but entered into the constitu- 
 tion of reality. The apparently simple and unpretentious 
 psychological query thus assumed a far more formidable 
 aspect. The question was now nothing less than : " How 
 is experience itself possible ? " what is this " necessary and 
 universal" element that goes to the making of, or that 
 underlies that real experience, which the Ein}»iricists take 
 as a matter of course, and about whicli they talk so glibly ? 
 What is the principle or principles from wliicli it is 
 deducible, and what is the method and order of deduction ? 
 Such is the prolhin to which Kant addressed himselt in 
 the * Critique of the Pure Keason,' and we may add also, 
 to which the series of German thinkers with whom Kant 
 was the starting-point, and which culminated in Hegel, 
 iiddressed themselves. 
 
 The disadvantage, as we have already observed in our 
 section on the transition to Kant, which Kant laboured 
 under, in attacking this problem from a psycho- 
 logical base (so to speak), from which he was unable 
 or unwilling to cut liimself oft', is manifest in every page 
 of his philosophical writings. A terminology derived now 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KAKT. 
 
 227 
 
 from the old dogmatic systems, and now from empirical 
 psychology, hampers his thought at every turn, making 
 him in some cases inconsistent with himself, and in 
 others scarcely intelligible. Kant sometimes speaks as 
 though he viewed "Theory of knowledge," merely as 
 the vestibule of a possible metaphysic, at least he puts 
 it forward as the preliminary question, which all meta- 
 physicians must answer, before they can properly proceed 
 to construct a system, professing to deal with the time- 
 honoured problems of philosophy. He hesitated to 
 formally insist, as he might have done, and as indeed he 
 frequently hints, that the answer to this question exhausts 
 the whole problem of metaphysics, and of itself constitutes 
 philosui^hy. He felt that some place must still be left for 
 the old speculative inquiries. With Kant, the chief end 
 of philosophy still remained the answer to questions, as to 
 God, the Soul, and Freewill. It is true they were not to 
 be answered in the spirit of traditional dogmatism. They 
 had no longer any theoretical locus standi in philosophy, 
 but their determination, direction, and formulation, in 
 the interests of practice, was still its chief function. In 
 this, as in other respects, the separate influences of the 
 two sides of Kant's philosophical education display them- 
 selves. Empiricism proclaimed the limitation of all know- 
 ledge to experience. The dogmatists of the^ Leibnitz- 
 Wolfian school, whose works formed Kant's earliest 
 philosophical pabulum, constituted the discussion of thel 
 nature of God, of the human Soul as an independent! 
 entity, and of the absolute constitution of the World- 
 order, as the sole end and object of philosophy. Although 
 Kant saw that " Theory of knowledge " was concerned 
 with nothing but experience ; although he saw that no 
 speculative science, as such, could be concerned with 
 anything higher than this; he nevertheless felt himself 
 bound to make up liis account, in some way or other, with 
 the old questions. The ingenuity with which he en- 
 deavoured to efiect this without invalidating his mam 
 speculative position we shall presently see. 
 
 Just as little as the Empiricists considered what was 
 implied in that ex[)erierice to which they were so fond of 
 insisting (and with justice) that our knowledgt? is limited, 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 
 
 MODEEN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 did tho dogmatists consider the significance and applica- 
 tion of the conceptions which they so freely assumed to 
 transcend all experience. The former assumed experience 
 as a thing given, the latter assumed the absolute validity 
 of certain of the concepts which experience presupposes 
 as part of its own constitution beyond that constitution. 
 The Empiricist never stopped to ask himself what are the 
 conditions which render experience possible. The Dog- 
 matist never stopped to enquire whether hb> abstract 
 concepts had any validity outside experieixse ; or how he 
 came by concepts which appear to transcend experience. 
 
 The thinker who wakened Kant from his dogmatic 
 slumber, as he expresses it, was Hume. Hume had shown 
 that the notion of causality does not spring from experience, 
 but is somehow or other imposed by us on the events 
 which are given us in experience. The sceptical attitude 
 assumed by Hume, as regards metaphysics, was merely 
 the result of his imperfect analysis. Had he not limited 
 his researches to the conception of causality alone, he would 
 have discovered that the whole of pure mathematics 
 consists of similar— as Hume would have deemed them— 
 arbitrarily constructed syntheses. This would have sufficed 
 ^to *' give him pause," inasmuch as he must either fiave 
 jtraightway abandoned mathematical certainty, or have 
 reconsidered his position with reference to metaphysics. 
 To profit by Hume's genius as displayed in his researches 
 tnto the causation problem, and to repair the errors 
 [arising from his shortsightedness, we must institute the 
 'enquiry into how we come to form such combinations 
 or syntheses, which carry with them *' necessity and 
 universality," in other w/a-.ls, as to the nature and con- 
 ditions of knowledge or experience-in-general— an enquiry 
 distinct from tlie merely psychological one, as to what 
 falls within individual experience Kant, nevertheless, 
 in spite of his insisting on the diBtinction, is apt; only 
 too frequently, to mix up the respective points of view of 
 " Theory of knowledge " and psychology. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 229 
 
 Transcendental ^EsxHEXia 
 
 Kant understands by " Transcendental " all that be- 
 longs to the conditions or possibility of experience as 
 opposed to " Transcendent " by which he understands that 
 which professes to transcend, or pass beyond experience. 
 Transcendental enquiries are simply enquiries into the 
 conditions which experience presupjjoses, without refer- 
 ence to the content given in any particular or individual 
 experience. The sum of such enquiries constitute what is 
 called Transcendental jjliilosophy. Transcendental Esthetic 
 t^notes therefore, with Kant, the enquiry into the a priori 
 or transcendental conditions of Sensibility. These Kant 
 finds to be space and time, together with all that is 
 directly deducible from them. In these two forms of 
 Sensibility are contained the possibility of the axioms 
 of mathematics. They are not given to us through 
 the senses, like our individual impressions; these latter 
 constitute the matter, or the purely empirical element 
 in our Sensibility. On the other hand, space and 
 time constitute t\iQ formal element, which helps to give 
 reality to these impressions. The formal element of 
 space-time combines the manifold matter of sensibility 
 into intuition or perception. Upon the matter, the sense- 
 impression which is received from without. Sensibility 
 imposes its own unifying forms. In space the manifold 
 impressions of sense are united in co-existence, in time in 
 succession. The a priori nature of space and time is 
 proved by the fact that we cannot make abstraction from 
 them even in thought, as we can from all that is merely 
 empirical. That they are different from conceptions ab- 
 stracted by the understanding is evident, since space or 
 time do not presuppose individual spaces or times, but on 
 the contrary, individual spaces or times can only be 
 thought of as parts of the one universal space or time. 
 Further, that they only reside in our Sensibility, and not 
 in the object itself, is evidenced by the fact that purely 
 spacial distinctions cannot be described objectively, but 
 only with reference to the cognising subject. " What can 
 
230 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 more resemble my hand or my ear and be ^/^ Points 
 more like, than its image in the looking-glass And yet 
 I cannot put such a hand as I see m the gl?«« /^^ ^^f 
 place of its original ; for when the latter is a right hand 
 the one in the glass is a left hand, and the image of a 
 right ear is a left one, which can never take the place ol 
 the former. Now there are no internal differences that 
 could be imagined by any understanding. And yet tne 
 differences are internal, so far as the senses teacli us, 
 for the left hand cannot, despite all equahty and simi- 
 larity, be enclosed within the same bounds as the right 
 (they are not congruent) ; the glove of ?«« .^^^^^ ,™5 
 be used for the other. AVhat then is the solution? 
 These objects are not presentations ol things as they are 
 in themselves, and as the pure understanding would 
 cognise them, but they are sensuous intuitions i.e. 
 phenomena, the possibility of which rests on the relations 
 of certain unknown things in ^Aem^eZwa to something else, 
 namely, to our Sensibility." (Kant's ; Prolegomena § 13, 
 Bohn's edition.) By means, then, of the fonns of space 
 and time, we combine the various impressions of sense 
 together into a whole. Intuitions, presentations, or phe- 
 nomena (i.e. appearances) consist therefore ot formed, or 
 in other words, timed and spaced, feelings or impressions. 
 It is, however, only time that can be predicated ot all 
 phenomena whatever, for although space and time are 
 alike mere subjective conditions of our bensibility, yet 
 space only belongs to the impressions of external .^eiisi- 
 bilitv, and does not apply to our internal states ; on tHe 
 contrary, time is immediately only the f«3rm of a connec- 
 tion of inward states or affections, m short, ot internal 
 Sensibility ; but since there is no external impreHSion 
 that is not accompanied by the internal intuition ot self, 
 time is indirectly the form of external intuitions also. 
 The matter of Sensibility, that is, the manifold impressions 
 of sense therein, being the empirical and casual element, 
 it follows that this formal and necessary element o 
 space-time must be pure and a prion. Lut if space and 
 time are the a priori forms of all phenomena, intuitions, or 
 perceptions, it is obvious that all the temporal and spacial 
 determinations of phenomena admit of prediction m a 
 
 Epoch XL] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 231 
 
 universal and necessary manner. Now these determina- 
 tions constitute the subject-matter of mathematical science. 
 Arithmetic (and those departments of mathematics based 
 upon it) is concerned with the repetition or succession of the 
 unit, in other words, is founded on time. Geometry again 
 deals with the configuration of space. The axioms and 
 postulates of these sciences, inasmuch, therefore, as they are 
 already implicitly present in our Sensibility itself, are 
 universally and necessarily predicable of all that falls 
 within it. But tliis also proves that mathematical pro- 
 positions are strictly limited in their application to the 
 jiheiioiiieiia given through sense, and in no way apply to 
 things-in-theuiselves. 
 
 In brief, according to Kant, Sensibility, with its pri- 
 mordial forms of space and time, is the receptive vehicle of 
 impressions received by it from without, though of this 
 "without " we can know nothing whatever.* 
 
 Transcendental Analytic. 
 
 Transcendental /Esthetic, while exliibiting the principles 
 of the passive or receptive side of knowledge or experience, 
 has also antswered the question, How are synthetic pro- 
 positions a priori possible, in so far as mathematics is 
 concerned ? lUit as yet we have only one of the elements 
 constituting the completed synthesis of real knowledge. 
 We have next to treat of the active element which all 
 complete synthesis or unification implies. It has been 
 justly remarked that space and time, in "the critical 
 philosophy," are the warp of knowledge, across which the 
 shuttle of thought has to throw its woof before reality, 
 objectivity or experience can obtain. A world of three- 
 dimensioned space, and of one-dimensioned time, forms the 
 warp. This material is supplemented by the spontaneity 
 of the Understanding or pure form of thought. The 
 
 * This doctrine Kant designates aa at once transcendental idealism 
 anil empirical realism. He claims that it ditfers from what he terms the 
 empirical idealism uf Berkeky ; inasmuch as, while Berkeley denied the 
 existence of objects while admitting the existence of space, he would 
 deny the existence of apace while admitting the exibteuce of objects. 
 
232 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 function of the understanding may be compared to the 
 action of the electric spark, passing along and illuminating 
 the whole series of sensations. Sensations, even though 
 unified in space or time, are, to use Kant's expression, 
 " blind," until they are reacted upon by the Understand- 
 ing. The Understanding synthesises them, and thereupon 
 a fully-fledged real or experienced world arises. ^ This 
 system of experienced objects—the real world— is the 
 nature with which science is concerned. Science, no less 
 than common experience, is Imsed upon the pure thought- 
 forms or categories, as Kant, following Aristotle, terms 
 
 them. ... 
 
 As in the case of Sensibility and its product, intuition 
 or perception, the pure form or necessary element dis- 
 closed itself after the matter or empirical (i.e. contingent) 
 element had been abstracted from, so here the pure con- 
 cept or category is arrived at, by abstracting from the 
 matter of the logical judgment ; we then see the necessary 
 conditions which every judgment presupposes. The clue 
 to the discovery of these universal categories of conscious- 
 ness Kant thus found in the ordinary logical table of 
 judgments. 
 
 The following is the list as given by Kant : — 
 
 Logical Table of the Judgments. 
 
 1. 
 
 According to Quantity, 
 
 Universal. 
 Particular. 
 
 Singular. 
 
 a 
 
 According to Relation, 
 
 Categorical. 
 
 Hypothetical. 
 
 Disjunctive. 
 
 2. 
 
 According lo Quality^ 
 
 AflSrmative. 
 
 Negative. 
 
 Iiitiuitive. 
 
 According to Modality, 
 
 Problematical. 
 
 AsBertorical. 
 
 Aixjdictic. 
 
 Parallel to this table runs the Transcendental table 
 of the categories which Kant derived from it, but of 
 which the logical judgments are, or should be if Kant's 
 derivation is correct, the applied form. 
 
 Epoch XL] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 233 
 
 Transcendental Table of the Conceptions of the 
 
 Understanding. 
 
 1. 2. 
 
 According to Quantity. According to Quality. 
 
 Unity. . Reality 
 
 Plurality. Negation. 
 
 Totality. Limitation. 
 
 3. 
 
 According to Belaiion. 
 
 Substance and accident. 
 
 Cause and effect. 
 
 Community (iiction and reaction). 
 
 4. 
 
 According to Modality. 
 
 Possibility. 
 
 Actuality. 
 
 Necessity. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Kant's derivation of the categories 
 from the judgments is in many cases forced and arbitrary.* 
 The distinctions contained in the original table are them- 
 selves often of doubtful value, and sometimes altogether 
 untenable. This, however, does not aflfect the philoso- 
 phical importance of Kant's analysis. The accuracy or 
 inaccuracy of the list of categories furnished, does not 
 touch the point that experience is determined by thought 
 in a manner at least generally corresponding to the 
 
 Kantian categories. . i_ j 
 
 But to proceed with our analysis. Having gathered 
 together these categories in the somewhat hap-hazard 
 manner we have seen, it remained for Kant to justify 
 their place in a doctrine professing to be systematic by 
 deducing them from some primary datum or principle of 
 consciousness. This ho seei^s to effect in his sections on 
 the deducticjn of the categories, one of the most important 
 portions of the * Critique.' It is necessary to remember 
 that the deduction is no demonstration, in the ordinary 
 sense of the word, but like every other "transcendental" 
 exposition, is designed to show that reality or experience 
 itself presupposes the successive stages of the argument 
 as its necessary conditions ; that on ultimate analysis, all 
 knowledge is resolvable into these, as its constituent 
 
 • The student may observe that in the categories of Quantity and 
 Quality (the mathematical categori. s, as Kant termed tliem), the 
 order of the corresponding table of judgments iB reverbed. 
 
234 
 
 MOBERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 elements. Tlie sections on tlie deduction of the categones 
 are very different in the two editions of the ' Critique.' 
 It is here that the crucial point, separating Theory of 
 Knowledge from P8ychologj% is to be found. 
 
 We have seen that the phenomena furnished by the 
 Sensibility to the Understanding are Himply presentments 
 or presentations, in other words, determinations or limita- 
 tions of Sensibility. Looking at the question from the 
 standpoint of Psychology, with its hard and fast distinc- 
 tion of subject and object, inner and outer, mind and 
 matter, it seems utterly enigmatical that I should have a 
 right to affirm universal or objective validity of the 
 categories; for instance, to say that the conception of 
 cause and effect can never be contradicted by any expe- 
 rience. " There are only two possible ways," says Kant, 
 " in which synthetical representation and its objects can 
 coincide with and rehite necessarily to each other, and, as 
 it were, meet together. Either the object alone makes the 
 representation possible, or the representation alone makes 
 the object possible. In the former case, the relation be- 
 tween them is only empirii^al, and an a priori representa- 
 tion is impossible. And this is the case with phenomena, 
 as regards that in them which is referal)le to mere sensa- 
 tion. In the latter case— altliough representation alone 
 (for of its causality, by means of the will, we do not here 
 speak) does not ])roduc© the object as to its existence, it 
 must nevertheless be a priori determinative in regard to 
 the object, if it is only by means of the representation 
 that we can cognise any thing as an object." (Kant's 
 ♦Criticfue,' p. 77: Bohn's edition.) 
 
 We have, it must l>e remembered, to distinguish between 
 two distinct processes; two presentations may combine 
 themselves in an individual consciousness, in a certain 
 time-order, i.e. in the empirical ego, which itself consists 
 simply in a synthesised series of impressions on the 
 internal scMise detenu ined in time. In this case the judg- 
 ment, together with its contained conception, its root, is 
 merely dk judgment of perception. These have merely a sub- 
 jective and individual validity ; in other words, they are 
 purely empirical and contingent. Or, on the other hand, 
 they may be combined in a manner valid not alone for 
 
 Epoch IT.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 235 
 
 the individual consciousness, but for all possible conscious- 
 ness ; that is, they may be combined in a consciousness-in- 
 general. " The business of the senses," says Kant, *' is to 
 intuite, that of the understanding to think. But to think 
 is to unite presentations in a consciousness. This union is 
 either merely relative to the subject, and is contingent 
 and subjective, or is given unconditionally, and is neces- 
 sary or objective. The union of presentations in a con- 
 sciousness is judgment. Thinking, then, is the same as 
 judging, or referring presentations to judgments in general. 
 Hence, judgments are either entirely subjective, when 
 presentations are solely referred to a consciousness in ono 
 subject, and are therein united, or they are objective 
 when they are united in a consciousness in general, that 
 is, are necessarily united therein. The logical momenta 
 of all judgments are so many possible modes of uniting 
 presentations in a consciousness. But if they serve as 
 conceptions of the necessary union of the same in a con- 
 sciousness, they are therefore principles of objectively 
 valid judgments. This union in a consciousness is either 
 analytic by identity, or synthetic by the combination and 
 addition of different presentations to one another. Ex- 
 perience consists in the synthetic connection of phenomena 
 (perceptions) in a conscit>usness, in so far as this is neces- 
 sary. Hence, pure conceptions of the understanding are 
 those under which all perceptions must be previously sub- 
 sumed, before they can serve as judgments of experience, 
 in which the sjTithetic unity of perceptions is presented 
 as necessary and universal." (Kant's 'Prolegomena,' 
 § 22 : Bohn's edition.) 
 
 But these pure conceptions of the understanding, to 
 which perceptions are immediately referred, before they 
 can become real or objective, themselves presuppose syn- 
 thetic processes lying (so to speak) still deeper in the 
 nature of consciousness. These are tJie synthesis of appre- 
 hension in intuition, of reproduction in the imagination, and 
 of recognition in the conception itself. The material origi- 
 nally supplied by sense requires a unification other than 
 that furnished by the passive forms of sense. This 
 unit)' is afforded in the primary act of intuiting, or 
 perceiving the sense-manifold furnished in time and 
 
236 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 space. Each impression given in an instant of time 
 would be lost, were it not gathered up in the act of 
 intuition, and coimected with those which precede and 
 follow it. This is what Kant terms the synthesis of appre- 
 hension. More than this is necessary, if a unity is to be 
 formed out of these several points of perception. To this 
 end they must be reproduced in the imagination and 
 retained for combination with fresh impressions. This 
 synthesis of reproduction in imagination is therefore in- 
 separably bound up with the foregoing synthesis of appre- 
 hension, liastly, before the completed categories can come 
 into operation a further stop has to be traversed. " With- 
 out the consciousness," says Kant (the passage, I may 
 mention, occurs in the first edition of the ' Critique ' 
 only), "that what we think is the same as what we 
 thought a moment before, all reprodnction in the series 
 of presentations would be in vain. For there would be 
 a new presentation in the actual state, not in any way 
 Monging to the act whereby it must have been gradu- 
 ally created, and the manifold therein would still not 
 constitute a whole, inasmuch as it would lack the unity 
 which this consciousness alone can give it. If I forget 
 in counting that the unities which are at present before 
 my senses have been successively added together by me, 
 I should not understand the creation of multitude through 
 this successive addition of one to one, and hence I should 
 not understand number, a conception consisting simply 
 in the consciousness of this unity in synthesis." The 
 last-named consciousness is what Kant terms the recog- 
 nition in the conception, which is necessary before the cate- 
 gories can obtain. Now we need scarcely say that all 
 these acts or processes are a priori, that is, precede all 
 particular experience; that they are further removed 
 from the latter, even than the categories themselves, not- 
 withstanding that each of them can be distinguished 
 empirically, that is, in its application to given experience. 
 The two first unite empirically in perception, and the 
 third gives us the empirical consciousness of the identity 
 of these reproduced perceptions, with the phenomena 
 whereby they were originally given. 
 
 But deeper than any of these syntheses, deeper even 
 
 Epoch H.] 
 
 llLJi.^ X. 
 
 237 
 
 than the unity of apprehension in sense, lies the original 
 si/nthesis of the consciousness, the unity of apperception as 
 Kant terms it. All the unifying acts we have been 
 considering find their ground in time ; this^ one, on the 
 conti ary, is not in time, but time is in it. The necessary 
 and universal identity of the knowing subject in respect 
 of all presentations, or determinations of consciousness 
 whatsoever, is the necessary condition of the possibility 
 of consciousness. This primary sijnthesis is identified by 
 Kant with the productive or pure ego, the ultimate 
 datum of "theory of knowledge," as opposed to the 
 empirical ego or subject-object with which psychology is 
 concerned. The transcendental synthesis of apperception 
 includes the secondary or psychological synthesis (the 
 empirical self) as it does the whole world of experience. 
 From the synthesis of apperception, the primordial "I 
 think," every other synthesis is deducible. In so far as 
 it refers to the categories and their conditions which we 
 have just been considering, it is the *' pure Understanding " 
 which creates them. 
 
 Having now arrived at the fundamental and general 
 grounds of the distinction between propositions wliich are 
 necessary and universal, and such as are contingent and 
 singular, it remains to deal with their application to 
 |>henomena. We have now clearly distinguished between 
 the world of sense as such and its ordered connection, 
 which we term Nature. Furthermore, we have seen that 
 the distinction does not lie in that the one resides more, 
 the other less in our consciousness, but that both elements 
 constituting real experience, the world of mere sense- 
 impressions, no less than the same world as modified by 
 Understanding, is in the one case a series, and in the other 
 a system, of determinations of a conscious subject possible or 
 actual. Kant, after repeatedly assuring us that this alone 
 is our world, proceeds somewhat inconsequently to postu- 
 late a world of things in themselves outside this system 
 or world of experience. With this, however, we are not 
 ftt present concerned. 
 
 Just as the laws determining intuition of phenomena as 
 sense-presentations, reside in the Sensibility itself and 
 constitute pure mathematics, so the laws which rej^ulate 
 
wtM7 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 tlie co-ordination of pbenomena must be sought for in the 
 Understanding and constitute Pure natural science. 
 
 The transcendental Analytic falls into two parts ; 
 analytic of conceptiom, which is the statement of the 
 ultimate forms to which unification may be reduced, and 
 analytic of principles, which exhibits these elements of 
 unification, as syntheses in the concrete world itself. In 
 this way the question, ** How are synthetic propositions 
 a priori possible ?" is answered generally so far as natural 
 science is concerned. 
 
 But although it has been shown how the universal 
 axioms of experience and of science are possible in 
 general, it remains yet to consider more nearly the manner 
 in which the sense-material is subsumed under the pure 
 conceptions of the Understanding. This is the problem 
 of those sections of the * Critique ' which are occupied with 
 the schematism of the pure conceptions of tlie under- 
 standing. The mediator between the radically disparate 
 elements of sense and intellect is the pure form of time. 
 This, in the words of Kant, " is the third thing, which 
 on the one side is homogeneous with the category, and 
 with the phenomenon on the other, and so makes the 
 application of the former to the latter possible." " This 
 mediating representation," he continues, *' must be pure 
 (without any empirical content), and yet must, on the one 
 side, be intellectual, on the other sensuous." But time is 
 at once sensuous and pure, and, therefore, answers this 
 condition. The immediate form of the category as applied 
 to the sense- world must, therefore, be one in which it is 
 united with time, or reduced to a time-determination. 
 This form is what Kant calls the schema, which gives us 
 the category as susceptible of direct application to the 
 phenomenon. 
 
 As the Sensibility is the faculty which furnishes the 
 sensuous-material of knowledge, the Understanding that 
 which creates the -^ ^ories, so it is the productive ima- 
 gination which produces the Hchema, whose function it 
 is to determine time and space bv means of the cate- 
 gories. There is naturally a parallelism between the 
 categories and the schemata. For the categories of 
 Quantity the schema is number, which we have already 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 239 
 
 seen to be a time-determination ; for those of B elation 
 the schema is the time-determinations — change and con- 
 "iinuance, succession, simultaneity ; for those of modality the 
 time-determinations — sometime, now, always. All this is 
 plain-sailing enough, but the category of Quality offers 
 a little difficulty. The empirical element of feeling has 
 here to be introduced, and the category of Quality can 
 only be schematised as that of filled, filling, and empty 
 time. "Between reality (presentation of feeling) and 
 zero, i.e. the complete emptiness of intuition in time, 
 there is a difference which has a quantity. For between 
 each given degree of light and darkness, between each 
 decree of heat and complete coldness, each degree of 
 weight and of absolute lightness, each degree of the 
 containing of space and of totally empty space, pro- 
 gressively smaller degrees can be thought of, and 
 similarly between consciousness and complete unconscious- 
 ness (psychological darkness) continually smaller [degrees] 
 exist, ilence no perception is possible that would prove 
 an absolute void ; for instance, no psychological darkness 
 that could be viewed otherwise than as a consciousness, 
 wliich is but surpassed by another stronger consciousness, 
 and the same in all cases of feeling." (Kant's * Prolego- 
 mena,' § 24, Bohn's edition.) This Kant calls the second 
 application of mathematics to natural science (mathesis in- 
 tensm-um) ; tlie first, of course, being the original schema of 
 number (mathesis extensorum). The schemata of Kelation 
 and Modality, which, like the corresponding categories, are 
 of course dynamic, are always subordinate to those of Quality 
 and Quantity, which are mathematic. To the schemata 
 naturally, as to every other stage in the construction of 
 experience, the synthetic unity of appeiception, the ever- 
 present " I think," is the ultimate motive power. 
 
 These a priori categorised time-determinations may be 
 summarised as representing the time-series, the time-con- 
 tent, the time-order, and the time-complex. They seve- 
 rally furnish us with the meta[)hysical principles of science. 
 The schema of number or of the time-series gives us the 
 axioms of intuition or perception, which express in a general 
 principle the fact that an object of perception is always 
 an aggregate of parts, an extensive magnitude; the 
 
240 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 anticipations of perception supply the rule for the fact that 
 every sensation, feeling or conscious state, though it have 
 no extensive magnitude, has nevertheless intensive maj;ni- 
 tude or degree (qmntitas qualitatis est gradm) ; m other 
 words both these principles are based on number ; in the 
 one case it is a number of parts outside one another, or 
 iime-series, in the other, a number of successive, and there- 
 fore anticipatory, gradations of feeling or time-content. 
 The principles corresponding to the schemata ot Kelation, 
 viz. change and continuance, succession, and siumltaneitv, 
 and which fix the time-order of the phenomenon, Kant calls 
 analogies of experience. They are, that the quantity of 
 material substance in the universe is unchangeable ; that 
 every change has an external cause, and that m the com- 
 munication of motion, action and reaction must always 
 be reciprocal. Finally, the three postulates o? empirical 
 thmgJit in general, based on the categories of Modality, 
 give us the rules for tlie physically possible, actual, and 
 neceasary, or in other words, of the time-complex. ^ 
 
 These principles Kant insists are all that a metaphysic of 
 nature can furnisli us with a }>riorJ ; the rest must be left 
 to observation and experiment, according to the method of 
 induction.* There follows on this a long section on the 
 division of all things into " |)henoniena and nomena, in 
 which Kant develops at length his distinction between 
 the "thing-in-itsclf" and the appearance or phenomenon 
 in consciousness—between sensible and intelligible k;ing. 
 The appendix to this section on the " Amphiboly of the 
 conceptions of reflection," deals with the subject ot the 
 confusion of the empirical use of the Understanding with 
 the transcendental. To this confusion Kant traces much ot 
 dogmatic metaphysics, notably tin; doctrines ot Leibnitz. 
 At the close of the Transcendental Analytic, Kant, in the 
 second edition of the * Critique,' appends a dissertation on 
 the relation of criticism to the empirical and dogmatic 
 idealistic theories of Berkeley and Leibnitz which need 
 not detain us. 
 
 • For a full development of these fundamental principles in their 
 relation to mattir and motion, the reader is referrecl to my translation 
 of Kant's * Metaphysical Foundatioas of Natural bcience, m Botm a 
 Fbilosopbical Library. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 241 
 
 We have now reached the conclusion of the con- 
 structive or constitutive portior. of Kant's Philosophy, that 
 is, the portion in which he seeks to lay before us what goes 
 to the making of experience, the data or principles which 
 completed or real experience presupposes. The question, 
 How is experience possible ? is now for Kant fully solved. 
 But how about the problems with which dogmatic meta- 
 physics had hitherto been concerned, which had exercised 
 the genius of a Leibnitz and the talent of a Wolff; which 
 were so essential to morality and political stability ; 
 questions as to the first cause, the immortality of the soul, 
 freewill, &c. Up to this point the tendency of *' Criticism ' 
 had been unmistakably to show the utter absurdity of all 
 Bucli inciuiries. In tlie next portion of the * Critique 
 the *^ Transcendental Dialectic," which Kant distinguishes 
 from the first part, by affirming it to deal with regulative 
 rather than constitutive concei)tions, he proceeds to treat of 
 these problems in his own fashion, first " critically," and 
 afterwards " practically." 
 
 Transcendental Dialectic. 
 
 This third division of the 'Critique' discusses the ques- 
 tion : How metaphysics in the dogmatic sense is possible ? 
 just as tlie two previous divisions had discussed the 
 question : How is experience possible ? We are here con- 
 cerned with tlie Pure Reason, properly so called, as we 
 h^ve before been dealing with the Pure Understanding 
 and Pure Sensibility. The two latter were the faculties 
 of Percepti<ais anil of Conceptions respectively; the 
 Reason is the faculty of Ideas. By " Ideas " Kant under- 
 stands those conceptions which, though they do not enter 
 into the constitution of experience like the categories, are 
 nevertheless, according to Kant, universally present m 
 human consciousness as *' practical " or "regulative 
 principles, in the shape of problems, postulates and re- 
 quirements. Just as the material upon which the under- 
 standing r'xercises itself is Sensibility, so the material 
 upon which the Reason operates is the reality or experience, 
 constituted by the combination of the two former elements. 
 
 & 
 
242 
 
 M^^RN PHILOSOPHY. [Epocm H. 
 
 For thiB reason the IdesR tranBcend alike senfie-fornis and 
 categories, while, at the same time, they have a determi- 
 nation entirely different from either of them. The former 
 are constitutive of experience itself; the latter, on the 
 other hand, are merely speculative, being concerned with 
 problems which experience indeed suggests but which do 
 not affect its constitution, and which its nature precludes 
 it from holving. 
 
 The distinction formulated by Kant himself between 
 the ITnderstaiuling, the logical function of which is judg- 
 ing, and the Eca«on, wliose logical function is syllogising 
 (if I may coin a word), is so obviously artificial, and 
 dicfcited by Kant's love of symmetry, that it need not 
 detain uh, iuore especially as it plays no important part in 
 rho subsequent exposition of the "Ideas." Sense and 
 Understanding are concerned with what «#, the Reason on 
 the other hand with what should he. Were we only sense 
 and understanding, we hhould have no impulse to travel 
 beyond the region of phenomena. This faculty of Ideas, 
 the lieason, forces us, however, beyond the conditions of 
 the given world, of experience. As the phenomenon only 
 exists in its relation to ourselves and to that which 
 produces it, the s{)here of experience is essentially the 
 sphere of the relative, the finite, and the conditioned. 
 Now, all the demands of the Reason turn upon the search 
 fnr the absolute, the infinite, and the unconditioned. The 
 great error we are liable to in the employment of the 
 Ideas of the reJl^( >d, is to forget or to ignore their true 
 character, and to treat them as constitutive. The tempta- 
 tion to this is sometimes great, and when yielded to fhe 
 reason becomes sopliistieal or dialectical. Whenever the 
 reason dogmatises, that is, ventures assertions on matters 
 outside all possible experience, it falls into this error. 
 There are cases, however, in which such a proceeding 
 seems inevitable. And in these cases the sopliisticati(jns, 
 or dialectic of reason, form part (.f its essential nature, and 
 we can no more help our subjection to them than we can 
 help ourselvfs beiii^ subject to tlie illusion that the sun 
 moves, or that the moon is larger wlien near the horizon 
 than at other times. But just as in the latter cases, 
 although the sense-illusion itself does not disappear when 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 243 
 
 we know that it is the earth, and not the sun that 
 moves, and that the moon does not vary in its dimensions, 
 yet it is nevertheless rendered harmless, inasmuch as 
 we cease to treat it as reality. The same with the illu 
 sions of the reason. As soon as criticism has unmasked 
 their true character, philosophy must cease to rely upc»n 
 them. 
 
 The Ideas of the Pure Reason embrace the Paralogisms, 
 the Antinomies and the Ideal of Pure Reason. The first 
 concern the absolute riature of the soul, the second the 
 absolute constitution of the world-order, and the third the 
 absolute existence of God. The paralogisms are so called 
 because in them it is sought to show that the soul is 
 simple and therefore immortal ; that it is substance ; 
 that it is distinct from the body; all which propositions 
 are based on so many paralogisms. In his treatment of 
 this subject Kant first dv^als with the arguments of Men- 
 delssohn and of ReimaruL^ and, it may be added, that of 
 his teacher Knutzen, all of whom emphasised the unity of 
 the self-consciousness as the ground of proof of the soul's 
 immateriality and immortality. The paralogism here 
 rests on the fact that by means of the Idea of the uncon- 
 ditioned, the reason demands that the ego shall always 
 occupy the place of subject and never that of predicate; 
 that all its presentations shall be referred to its own 
 unity ; and finally, that all which it perceives shall bn 
 regarded as other than, and external to, itself. It is 
 sought to change these valid requirements, which are all 
 fulfilled in experience, into dogniatic assertions respecting 
 the nature of the soul apart from experience. 
 
 The confusion at the basis of this, as of the other })ara- 
 logisms, consists in the failure to distinguish between the 
 ego of the ]>rimordial apperception which, inasmuch as it 
 is that which renders experience itself possible, can never 
 becjme an object of experience, with the soul, that is, the 
 object of the internal sense (as Kant terms it), or in other 
 words, the individual mind or personality. This latter is. 
 as Hume had shown, given us as a series of ** impressions 
 and ideas," bnt, as Kant added, knit together and realised 
 under the category of "substance " and the schema of '' per- 
 manence." This confusion is the parent of other fallacies ; 
 
 R 2 
 
244 
 
 MOIiERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 thus out of the logical unity of the subject is constituted 
 a real simplicity ; from the fact that I am for myself 
 identical in every moment of consciousness, it is concluded 
 that the 80ul is objectively an identical personality ; lastly, 
 from the distinction between the internal and external 
 sense and its object, the subsistence of the soul independently 
 of the body is inferred. " From all this it is evident," 
 says Kant, *' that rational psychology has its origin in 
 mere misunderstanding. The unity of consciousness, 
 which lies at the basis of the categories, is considered to 
 be an intuition of the subject as an object; and the 
 category of substance is applied to the intuition. But 
 this unity is nothing more than the unity in thought^ by 
 which nf> object is given ; to which, therefore, the category 
 of substance (which always presuDposes a given intuition) 
 cannot bo applied." Consequently, the subject cannot be 
 cognized. "The subject of the categories cannot, therefore, 
 for the very reason that it c^jgitates these, frame any 
 Cfjnception of itself as an object of the categories ; for, to 
 cogitate these, it must lay at the foundation its own pure 
 self-consciousness (the very thing that it wishes to explain 
 and describe). In like manner, the subject, in which 
 the representation of time has its basis, cannot determine, 
 for this very reason, its own existence in time. Now, if 
 the latter is impossible, the former, as an attempt to 
 determine itself by means of the categories as a thinking 
 being in general, is no less so." (' Critique,' Bohn's 
 edition, p. 249.) 
 
 The sum of Kant's investigations into the. paralogisms 
 of the Pure Reason is that every " rational psychology " 
 which claims to bo dogmatic, that is, to establish doctrines 
 concerning the real nature of the suul, ratlicr than to be 
 critical or determinative of our attitude towards the 
 question, is, and must be, a delusion and a snare. 
 
 The criticism of Cosmology consists in the discussion of 
 the antinomies of the pure reason. The Idea of the uncon- 
 ditioned requires us to expect a completed s} stem of all 
 phenomena, or in other words, a world. This world-Idea 
 is determined according to the four classes of categories, 
 and may thus be split up into eight propositions, consist- 
 in ff on the one side of the assertions of the Wolffian 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 245 
 
 cosmology, and on the other, of their sceptical antitheses. 
 They are as follows : — 
 
 Thesis. 
 The world has a hpginning 
 (boundary) in time and space. 
 
 Thesis. 
 Everything in the world con- 
 sists of simple (parts). 
 
 Thesis. 
 There are in the world causes, 
 through Freedom. 
 
 m 
 
 Thesis. 
 In the series of world causes, 
 there exists a Tiecessary being. 
 
 Antithesis. 
 The world is infinite in time 
 and space. 
 
 Antithesis.^ 
 There is nothing simple, but 
 everytliing is composite. 
 
 Antithesis. 
 There is no freedom, but all is 
 Nature. 
 
 Antithesis. 
 There is nothing necessary, buV 
 in this series all is contingent 
 
 According to Kant, the natural dialectic of the Pure 
 Reason is exhibited in these propositions ; for, while tho 
 theses are grounded on universally admitted axioms, the 
 antitheses, which are equally well accredited, directly 
 contradict them. Each of the eight propositions is thus a 
 correct consequence from self-evident premises. The in- 
 herent contradiction is thereby shown to lie in the nature 
 of the reason itself. For of two mutually contradictory 
 propositions both cannot be false unless the conception at 
 their basis be itself contradictory. Kant's Transcendental 
 or Critical Idealism, which distinguishes between pheno- 
 mena and things -in -themselves, and rescues the word 
 " phenomenon " from its sceptical implication of " illu- 
 sion," is the sword which is to cut this Gordian knot. 
 The two first antinomies (the mathematical) are disposed 
 of by a demonstration of the fallacy alike of thesis and 
 antithesis, inasmuch as phenomena are here treated as 
 things-in-themsehes. It is just as impossible to say the 
 world is infinite as it is finite, for neither of these concep- 
 tions can be contained in experience, " because experience 
 is neither possible respecting an infinite space, or an 
 infinite time, or the boundary of the world by an empty 
 space or a previous empty time ; these things are only 
 Ideas." On the other hand, since both conceptions pertain 
 to the forms of sense, it would be manifestly absurd to 
 
246 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 predicate either of them of the world as thmg-m-itself. 
 The same reasoning applies to the second antinomy which 
 concerns the division of phenomena. For here again the 
 parts only exist as given, that is, in the act of division, in • 
 other words, in experience, and hence only extend as tar 
 as experience reaches. But it is no less impossible tor 
 experience to dogmatically fix a limit to the division ot 
 phenomena than it is for it to follow out that division to 
 
 1 Y\ Tl Yl 1 '¥ IT 
 
 The two second antinomial pairs are not like the first, 
 mathematical, that is, concerned with the quantum of the 
 world, but like their corresponding classes of categories, 
 dynamical, that is, concerned with U determination ot the 
 world-order in a special manner. "In the first class of 
 antinomy (the mathematical), the fallacy of the assunip- 
 tion consisted in that what is self-contradictory (namely, 
 phenomenon and thing-in-itself), was represented as 
 capable of union in one idea. But as regards the second, 
 or dynamical cla.ss of antinomy, the fallacy of the as- 
 sumption consists in that what is capable of union is 
 represented as contradictory, and consequently, as m the 
 first case, both contradictory assertions were false; so 
 here, where they are opposed to one another merely 
 through misunderstanding, both may be true." (Kant s 
 * Prolegomena,' Bohn's edition, § 63.) . • ^ 
 
 In this no less than in the previous instance, it is the 
 distinction between phenomena and things-in-themselves 
 which solves the difficulty, though in another way. Both 
 propositions may here be true, if the thesis be referred to 
 things-in-themselves, and the antithesis to phenomena. 
 It is quite conceivable that, while in the phenomenal 
 world all the actions of man are the necessary con- 
 sequences of his empirical character, outside this phe- 
 nomenal worid in his capacity of thing-in-itself, existing 
 out of time, man may be the self-determining cause of his 
 actions. It is thus that Kant reconciles liberty with 
 necessity. Similarly with the fourth antinomy, it may 
 be quite correct according to the assumption of the anti- 
 thesis, that, as iu the world of phenomena, every event has 
 
 a cause the regremus no let^B than the progresaua of causes 
 
 bein^*- infinite — the idea of a first or uncau&ed cause is 
 
 / 
 
 Epoch IL] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 247 
 
 absurd, inasmuch as this could only be discoverable could 
 we arrive at the comi)letion of the series of subordinate 
 causes, which is obviously impossible ; and nevertheless, 
 , the thesis may still obtain outside phenomena, i.e. outside 
 the world of experience, in that of things-in-themselves. 
 There is notliing contradictory here in the assumption of 
 a self-existent, necessary being, for although the existence 
 of such a being can never be proved, yet it can be just as 
 little disproved, time and causality only applying to the 
 phenomena of sense, and not to things-in-themselves. 
 
 The criticism of rational Theology is contained in the 
 section of the * Critique ' on the Ideal of the Pure Reason. 
 Kant has already Lid up to it in his discussion on the 
 fourth antinomy. In the Ideal of the Pure Reason the 
 Idea of the Unconditioned claims to be presented in 
 individuo but not in concreto, being determined by itself 
 alone. " The idea of humanity in its complete perfection 
 supposes not only the advancement of all the powers and 
 faculties, which constitute our conception of human 
 nature, to a complete attainment of their final aims, but 
 also everything which is requisite for the complete deter- 
 mination of the idea ; for of all contradictory predicates, 
 only one can conform with the idea of the perfect man. 
 What I have termed an ideal, was in Plato's philosophy, 
 an idea of the divine wnid— an individual object present 
 to its pure intuition, the most perfect of every kind of 
 beings, and the archetype of all phenomenal existences. 
 C Critique,' Bohn's edition, pp. 350-1.) ^ » ,, 
 
 This idea of the sum-total of all perfection, and of aU 
 reality conceived as concentrated in an individual being, 
 constitutes the idea of God, or the Ideal of the Pure Reason. 
 Kant describes the progress of the reason in proceeding 
 first to the hypostasisatiou, and finally, to tlie personifica- 
 tion of this conception of a sum-total of all reality ; but 
 that the reason itself has a lurking suspicion that in the 
 course of this procedure it has broken altogether with 
 experience, is shown by the desperate attempt to justify 
 itself exhibited in the three arguments (the ontological, the 
 cosinological and the teleological), which it puts forward 
 in proof of the objective existence of its ideal. Kant 
 proceeds to show the illusoriuess of all these arguments. 
 
248 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 But if all the pretended proofs of the existence of the 
 Deity are based on illusions of the Pure Keason, the 
 atheistic demonstrations of the opposite are equally 
 baseless, on the other hand. The non-existence of God , 
 can just as little be demonstrated as his existence.* 
 
 " The reason does not here," observes Kant, (with refer- 
 ence to this third or Theological Idea) '* as with the py8(^ho- 
 logical and cosmological ide«s, start from experience, and is 
 not by a [progressive] raising (Steigerung) of the grounds, 
 misled into an endeavour to contemplate the series in 
 absolute completeness, but wholly breaks therewith, and 
 from mere conceptions of what would constitute the 
 absolute completeness of a thing-in-general, consequently 
 by means of the idea of a most perfect original being, 
 descends to the determiuatit)n of the possibility, and 
 thereby also to the reality, of all other things." (Kanl's 
 * Prolegomena,' Boho's edition, § 55.) Thus much as to 
 the form in which the Ideal is conceived. As regards its 
 content, its real purport and meaning, it is an indis- 
 pensable regulative conception for our study of nature, 
 no less than for our conduct ; that is, the reason reciuires 
 that we regard nature as though created and governed by 
 God, and that we act as though we were accountable to 
 God. The regulative, or disciplinary function of the Pure 
 Eeason as regards scientific method, and the systematisa- 
 tion of knowledge, is developed in the closing sections of 
 the ' Critique,' which treat of the " Transcendental doctrine 
 of method." 
 
 Kant's practical or moral philosophy is contained most 
 fully in * The Metaphysic of Ethics,' and in the * Critique 
 of PracticarKeason.' The basis of Kant's Ethic is the 
 " categorical imperative " by which the Practical Eeason 
 affirms its domination over the natural impulses, 'the 
 moral man is, according to Kant, not he who is by nature 
 benevolent, but he who acts well against his natural 
 inclinations. The great distinction of Transcendental 
 
 * From Kant's " practical " Btandiwirit, this fact haa an important 
 bearing, and therefore the stress he Inya uiH>n it is ju-tified. Not so 
 with our modem Positivists, A'gnostics, and others with whom it is 
 no more than a verbal quiblde, and whose repudiation of Atheism can 
 but denote mere social servility. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 249 
 
 Idealism between noummon or thing-in-itself and phenomenon 
 or appearance in consciousness, of course plays an even 
 more important role here than in the theoretical side of 
 the critical philosophy. Man's will, as noumenon, proclaims 
 the moral law which man's will, as phenomenon, receives. 
 The categorical imperative, the ''ought of that which has 
 never ha}>pened," as Kant expresses it, can only have a 
 meaning fur me in so far as I feel within me the possibility 
 of my accomplishing the demand made upon me. The 
 fact that it does appeal to me affords all the proof requisite 
 for me that the will is free. Inasmuch as without free- 
 dom no ought or moral law is conceivable, the latter is itself 
 as much a demonstration of the former as the former is the 
 foundation of the latter. The conviction of this moral free- 
 dom must, however, in no way be conceived as extending 
 our theoretical knowledge. It simply affords a subjective 
 demonstration of what the Transcendental Dialectic had 
 already declared possible, though incapable of any positive 
 theoretical proof. We have at the same time a subjective 
 "confirmation of another fact, which the Transcendental 
 Dialectic had proclaimed conceivable, though not demon- 
 strable, namely, that of our dual nature. While we are 
 sensuous beings in time, we are intelligible beings apart 
 from time. It is in my noumenal, intelligible, or which 
 is the same thing, my moral nature, that I am really free, 
 this freedom consisting in the power of the unconditioned 
 commencement of a series of events in time. Thus 
 practical necessity compels us to make assumptions which 
 would be unwarranted were we to confine ourselves to 
 the theoretical aspect of the case. In this we see the 
 su^.eriority of the Practical over the Pure Keason. These 
 assumptions are the postulates of the Practical Keason by 
 which we are to understand its necessary presuppositions 
 ftjr practical purposes, but which have no theoretical or 
 speculative bearing whatever. In this connection, Kant 
 sttadily adheres to his original contention that a man is 
 no more able to increase his knowledge by mere concep- 
 tions, than a merchant is to increase his riches by adding 
 noughts to the balance of his account. 
 
 It will be seen from the foregoing that Kant's basis of 
 Ethics is absolute intuition. The dictates of conscience 
 
250 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 are ultimate, and not traceable to any higher external 
 source. Kant polemicises against the moral philosophy 
 which places the principle of the action in the object 
 desired, such as happiness, perfection, Ac. It is quite 
 evident that that is desired which affords pleasure, but 
 this is obviously only an empirical principle. Lven the 
 principle of perfection is open to the criticism that it only 
 puts forward conditional demands, and consequently 
 affords no adequate distinction between expediency and 
 morality. This objection is obviated, once we p ace the 
 criterion of morality in the commands of the 1 ractical 
 Reason, and recognise them as ultimate, and per se ot 
 universal validity. The formula of this universal princi- 
 ple may be thus steted : so act that the maxims of your 
 conduct may serve as a rule valid for all. 
 
 The conformity of the action with the above formula 
 constitutes the conduct legal, the conformity of the motive 
 makes it moral. The metaphysic of Ethics may be divided 
 accordingly into the doctrine of right (jurisprudence), 
 and the doctrine of virtue (Ethics proper). The hrst 
 comprises the external and legally binding ; the second, ttie 
 duties with which conscience is concerned. The one is 
 treated of in Kant's " Theory of Jurisprudence the other 
 in his " Theory of Virtue." 
 
 Kant's views on the philosophy of history, the conception 
 of which was at that time recent, are contained m a re- 
 markable little essay entitled, "Ideas for a Universal 
 History from a Mundane Point of View." Kant here enun- 
 ciates the now familiar but then novel conception that 
 " individuals and even entire peoples, little imagine that in 
 following their own interest, and often in struggling with 
 one another, they pursue each in their own way, as a 
 conducting filament, the design of nature, to them un- 
 known, and co-operate in an evolution which, even it they 
 had an idea of it, would signify little for them And 
 acrain " tliere remains but one issue for the philosopher, 
 aSd that is, it l>eing impossible for him to suppose m the 
 play of the actions of men a reasonable design of then 
 own he must endeavour to discover in the apparently 
 absurd concatenations of human affairs, a natural design 
 which renders it possible to trace among creatures, who 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 251 
 
 themselves proceed without plan, a history conformable to 
 a plan determined by nature." The following are the 
 principal points in the little [;roc/mre from the introduction 
 to which the above passages are taken. Kant admits a 
 continuous development, subject to constant laws, in 
 human histoiy. The aspirations, the struggles, and the 
 work, of one generation, bear fruit and are realised 
 in the next, only to become in their turn the material 
 for further development. This conception gives to the 
 present a real bond of union with the past and the future. 
 The primitive savage condition, to a large extent abolished 
 in the relations between individual men, still exists in the 
 relations of states to one another. This can only be 
 terminated by the institution of an international federation 
 of states. The solidarity of all the members of the human 
 family, their union in a world-republic in which the dis- 
 tinction between Ethics and Tolitics would cease, and the 
 conscious end of which would be the well-beiug and pro- 
 gress of humanity as a whole, such was for Kant the goal 
 
 of history. -, , , 
 
 That Kant was stirred to these thoughts by the spirit 
 and events of the time (the essay was written in 1789) 
 there is no doubt ; but how different the scientific value 
 of Kant's contribution to the great question, trifling 
 though it is in dimensions ; how vastly deeper and more 
 comprehensive his conception of the true bearing of history, 
 than is to be found in any other of the writings of the 
 ** age of reason ! '* These, one and all, saw in the past little, 
 if anything, more than a seething mass of conscious 
 knavery and folly, which it was the function of mature 
 human reason to unmask and deuounce. Kant saw in it the 
 parent of the present. Ho saw that history is no more the 
 fortuitous concatenation of knaveries and follies the men of 
 the AufkUrung declared it, than it is the arbitrary dispensa- 
 tion of the supernatural being the theologians declared it. 
 Of course we find the inevitable shortcomings of an eigh- 
 teenth-century view of the subject. That political forms 
 are merely the outcome and seal, so to speak, of tlie several 
 stages in the social, and, more particularly, the economical 
 development of society, was a truth not even the most far- 
 seeing eighteenth-century thinker could be expected to 
 
At)^ 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 grasp. And Kant, of course, did not grasp it. With him, 
 as with his contemporaries generally, the political and 
 juridical aspect of human affairs was the fundamental one : 
 80 far as progress was concerned, their reconciliation with 
 individual morality and liberty the final statement of the 
 problem to be resolved. 
 
 On the * Critique of the Faculty of Judgment/ the 
 third of the great critical treatises of Kant, in which he 
 formulates a theory of the sublime and beautiful, space 
 precludes our entering. The work, as before remarked, is 
 vi«ibly inferior — look at it from what point of view we may 
 — to its predecessors. It is needless to say it is not with- 
 out happy and valuable suggestions, but, taken all in all, 
 it must be pronounced arid, confused and unappreciative. 
 Kant's character was especially deficient on the artistic 
 side, and it is not surprising that his efforts to deal vsdth 
 art, and the emotions of which art is the expression, should 
 have resulted in something like a failure. 
 
 U|X)n the wide influence of Kant on ti;eneral culture, it 
 would carry us beyond the province of the present volume 
 to dilate. Well-nigh every department of learning, received 
 an impulse from the founder of * The Critical Philosophy.' 
 The reception which ' Criticism * met with was un- 
 paralleled. " IVIany regarded Kant," says Vaihinger 
 {Commentary pp. 1»-1()), "as a prophet of a new religion, 
 and Eeinhold declared that in an hundred years Kant 
 would have the reputation of Jesus Christ. The Jena 
 Alhjemeine Liter atur Zeitung proclaimed a novm ordo rerum. 
 In the course of some ten* years three hundred attacks and 
 defences of Kant's philosophy appeared. The enthusiasm 
 aroused the hatred of opponents. Herder characterised 
 the whole movement as a St. Vitus dance, while fanatical 
 priests sought to degrade the name of the sage of 
 Konigsberg to a dog's name. We must not only be 
 acquainted with the books written from a more or less 
 impartial standpoint, but also with the subjectively 
 coloured pamphlets and letters belonging to the period, 
 if we are to form an adequate idea of the, at present, 
 almost inconceivable commotion. The powerful im- 
 pression of the Kantian philosophy on all classes in the 
 nation, implied a coiTcsponding influence on every sphere 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 253 
 
 of intellectual activity. Theology, jurisprudence, philo- 
 logy, even natural science and medicine, were soon drawn 
 into the movement, quite apart, of course, from the special 
 philosophical disciplines which were subjected to its 
 mighty influence." 
 
 The effect produced, however, was not quite immediate. 
 Little notice was taken of the original "dissertation," 
 which contained all the ideas of the ' Critique ' in germ, 
 while, as regards the only important review of the 
 * Critique' itself, it cannot be denied that it justified 
 Kant's stricture, that the criticism had preceded the study 
 of the work criticised. Among the earliest and best 
 known of tlie popular writers on Kantianism was 
 K. L. Reinhold, who, in his "Letters on the Kantian 
 Philosophy," endeavoured to show that all the oppositions 
 which had hitherto divided philosophy were disjwsed of 
 by the new system. The foundation in 1785 of the Jena 
 Allgemeine Literatur Zeitung contributed much to its spread. 
 By the last decade of the century there was scarcely a 
 German university in which the new philosophy was not 
 taught ; while its name at least, and in some cases more 
 than the name, had spread far and wide throughout 
 western Europe. Among the men of letters most power- 
 fully influenced by Kant, were, Frederick Schiller, and 
 Jean-Paul Friedricli liichter. 
 
 Among the most prominent opponents of the * Critical 
 Philosophy ' may be mentioned Johann Gottlieb Herder. 
 Herder was at one time a pupil of the Konigsberg sage, 
 but was more especially influenced by Ilamann, a friend 
 of Kant, but at the same time an opponent of the Kantian 
 philosophy. The subtle distinctions of the ' Critique ' re- 
 pelled Hamann, who from a Humian-sceptical attitude in 
 philosophy, sought refuge in a mystical religious illuminism. 
 Herder's position was similar ; like Hamann, Herder lays 
 great stress on language as that which crucially differenti- 
 ates man from the higher animals. But Herder none the less 
 insists on tlie natural or human, as opposed to the super- 
 natui al origin of language. In the " Ideas for a philosophy 
 of history " he seeks to show that in order to understand 
 the microcosm, man, it is necessary to understand the 
 universe ; since man's place in or above nature is deter- 
 
254 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II 
 
 mined by the planet in which he lives, by the geo- 
 
 fraphical, topographical, climatic, environment into which 
 e is born, and finally by his original organisation. The 
 whole of Herder's • thought is permeated by a i)oetical 
 pantheism and nature worship akin to the spirit of 
 the eighteenth century, but totally alien to that of 
 Kant, against whom Herder polemicisea with bitterness 
 in his * Meiakritih' 
 
 The special representative in philosophy of the above 
 religio-mystical opposition to Kaut, however, was Friedrich 
 Heinrich Jacobi (1743-1819). Jaeobi, while accepung 
 Kant's limitation of knowledge to experience, and ac- 
 knowledging the invalidity of all reasoning respecting 
 the unconditioned, joins issue with him on the matter of 
 the " faith " which is to rehabilitate the dogmas that are 
 excluded from the province of reason. Kant's '' ^iractical 
 necessity " will not suffice for Jacobi. For him certaintj' 
 of the existence of God, the smuI, &c., is afforded by an 
 immediate intuition which is itself ultimate. The puwer- 
 lessness of reason with. regard to the question, is of the 
 game nature as its powerlessness to prove or disprove an 
 immediate intuition of sense, which is also ultimate. Of 
 the nature of such an intuition is the " faith " of Jacobi. 
 Jacobi's po.sitioii, it may be observed, was but a revival of 
 the stoical test of truth as consisting in " strength of 
 individual conviction," and in a modified form, of the Neo- 
 platonic "ecstaNy." At such a point of view philosophy 
 necessarily ceases to be philosopliy, and becomes mere 
 theosophy and mysticism. 
 
 In the flood of j)hilosopliical literature which the Kantian 
 movement produced, the most prominent names beside that 
 of Keinhold above mentioned, are those of Schulze, Fries, 
 Beck, Maimon, and Bardili, all of whom occupied a more 
 or less critical position with regard to the master, while 
 acknowledging the fundamental positions of the new 
 philosophy. 
 
 In attempting to discover a modus vimndi between the 
 Dogmatism which professed to transcend exi)erience and 
 the Empiricism which accepted experience as an ultimate 
 fact, without further inquiry into its nature or significance, 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT. 
 
 255 
 
 Kant struck upon the crucial distinction between elemental 
 or transcendental and real or empirical condition. For 
 the first, the self-consistency of thought, necessity m the 
 order of coherence in the given whole, is the ultimate 
 criterion ; for the second, the necessary relation of events 
 in time as determined by causality, Kant was unable to 
 keep the distinction steadily in view, a circumstance not to 
 be wondered at, considering the difficulties which he, as a 
 pioneer, had to contend with, in striking out his new " foot- 
 path " as he termed it. Many a time does he wander back 
 into the old beaten road of Empiricism or Dogmatism 
 unintentionally, and even wdthout knowing it, when in 
 the midst of following out a transcendental argument. 
 This is facilitated by his employing on the one side the 
 arrangement and terminology of the empirical psycho- 
 logists, and on the other that of the Leibnitz- Wolffian 
 dogmatists. The distinctions of subject-object, mmd- 
 wurld, phenomenon-noumenon, (fee, frequently mislead him 
 as to the real l)eariiig of his own thought, and make him 
 forget that his point of view properly transcends all 
 these distinctions. The pedantic working-out of the 
 system, the forced symmetry striven for at every turn, 
 which has been so often animadverted upon, on the other 
 hand, is largely to be accounted for by the influence of the 
 dogmatic system, which he made his model as far as the 
 order and arrangement of his exposition was concerned. 
 The symmetry is sometimes attained l)y the most obvious 
 verbal quibble, as for example, where in order to make a 
 perfect parallel between the ideas and the categories, a 
 laltoured piece of augmentation is introduced to derive them 
 from the form of tlie syllogism, the categoricH having 
 been derived from the form of the judgment. Many other 
 instances will occur to the reader versed in the ' Critique.' 
 " Criticism " viewed as a system occupies a position of 
 unstable equilibrium. Its professed solutions, in almost 
 every case, have the effect of opening up deeper issues. 
 There are many things in it that are so plainly " survivals '* 
 from the dogniatic and empirical schools which criticism 
 professed, and, in the main with justice, to have superseded, 
 tliat no student of logical mind, who had once grasped the 
 central thought of the new system, could rest satisfied with 
 
256 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 it as it stood. For instance, he could hardly fail to see 
 that the Leibnitz-Lockeian " things-m-themselves, the 
 occult cause of the ^ense-impression, which ^^re never- 
 theless wholly outside that " experience for which alone, 
 as Kant had been careful to demonstrate, the conception of 
 cause and effect had any meaniuK or sigmficance-were a 
 ^Jirvival " certainly not of the fittest. But, after making 
 all due detractions, Kant remains the most encyclopaedic 
 thinker the world had seen since Anst.. tie, a ^^^ntable sim 
 in the intellectual firmament. There is no subject whicii 
 Kant's philosophy did not cover, and to which he did not 
 himself apply it. But the great heritage he left was not 
 the -critical" mj.tem^ but the^ " cri ical, elemental or 
 transcendental metlml the method winch was discovered 
 in principle by Kant, himself by no means fully aware of 
 its wide-reaching importance, and perfected as regards 
 form by Hegel. This method, we must once more repeat, 
 consisted in the reduction by analysis of a given synthei^is to 
 its elementary constituents in ordfr to reconstruct it in thejorms 
 of abstract thought from its primary datum. }J'^^ 1^^^^9^l ^l 
 the method of philosophy par excellence Ihe thought of 
 Plato and of Aristotle is based upon it, but troin tlieir 
 time to that of Kant it had been more or less lost sight ot. 
 In our next thinker, Fichte we shall see this -re-readmg, as 
 it has been called, of experience, this reconstruction of the 
 concrete or real world according to its elemental conditjons, 
 more successfully carried out than by Kant. J ichte tound 
 the track already cut, and it only remained tor him to 
 widen the T)ath, and to clear away as lar as i)ossible tne 
 dogmatic and empirical debris which still encumbered it. 
 
 FICIITE. 
 
 Life. 
 
 JoHANN Gottlieb Fichte was born. May 19, 1762, at 
 Eammenau in Ober-Lausitz. He received his higher 
 education at the universities of Jena and Leipzig, where 
 he entered in the faculty of Theology. For some years 
 subsequently he resided in Switzerland in the capacity of 
 private tutor. Shortly after he left Switzerland, having 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 257 
 
 meanwhile abandoned his intention of entering the church, 
 he became acquainted with the new philosophy of which 
 the 'Ciitique' was the organon. His enthusiasm knew no 
 bounds, and resulted in the production of a work on 
 Kantian principles, entitled a ' Critique of all Revela- 
 tion,' for which Kant procured him a publisher, and 
 which was mistaken by many persons at first for an 
 anonymous work of the master, so thoroughly had he 
 assimilated the style, as well as the thought of the Titan 
 of Konii!,sberg, In Switzerland, whither Fichte again 
 repaired'^in Order to get married, in 1793, he published 
 anonymously a lecture ' On the Claims of Free Thought,* 
 together with a work, ' Ccmtributions towards Rectifying 
 the Public Judgment on the French Revolution,' in which 
 he ardently championed the cause of the people against 
 the then governing classes, royal, noble, and ecclesiastical. 
 These were followed by some magazine articles on 
 Schulze's * J^:nesidemus ' in 1794. In the same year, 
 Fichte was called to Jena, to succeed Reinhold in the Chair 
 of Philosophy. The small brochure on the ' Conception of 
 Theory of Knowledge,' which api)eared soon after, contains 
 the programme of his lectures. This was fullowed almost 
 immediatelv by his first great work, * The Foundation of 
 the Conqiiete Theory of Knowledge,' ' Grundlage der 
 amimmten WissenschafiMire: Next came * The Foundation 
 of Natural Right on the Principles of Theory of Know- 
 ledge,' in 1796, and the 'Theory of Ethics,' in 179B. A 
 cry of atheism that was raised against him, led to the 
 pilblication of hisappeal to the public in 1799, but he lost 
 his professorship at Jena, notwithstanding. Fichte then 
 repaired to Berlin, and in a short time obtained the Chair 
 (,f Philosophy at Erlangen. Finally, in 1809, he became 
 professor at the Berlin University, and retained the post 
 till his death on January the 27th, 1814. 
 
 He i)ublished his ' Debtiny of Man ' and his ' Close Com 
 mercial State' in 1800; his 'Sun- clear Statement' in 1801; 
 his 'Characteristics of the Present Age,' and * Nature of the 
 Scholar,' in 18U0; and his 'Addresses to the German Nation,' 
 in 1808. Fichte's complete works liave been issued by his 
 son ; first the ].osthumous writings (vols, iii., Bonn, 1834), 
 and subsequently a collected edition of the works pul>- 
 
 s 
 
258 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 lished during tlie elder FicMe's lifetime (vol. viii., Berlin, 
 1845). 
 
 ThK WlSSENSCIIAFTSLEHRE, OR " TlIEORY OF KNOWLEDGE." 
 
 Though Fichte's system, to which he gave the above 
 name, is primarily based on Kant, it was modified directly 
 by a study of the exponents and critics of * Criucism,' 
 Eeinhold, Schulze and Maimon. The influence upon it of 
 Fichte's early study of Spinoza is also not to be overlooked. 
 8})inoza's Monism had early attracted Fichte, and con- 
 tributed powerfully to mould his subsequent thought. 
 Fichte rightly signalises as the epoch-making work of 
 Kant, his having directed philosophy toward transcen- 
 dental inquiries. While other sciences investigate the 
 nature of known objects, it is tlie function of philosophy 
 to discover the nature and conditions of knowledge itself. 
 I'hilosophy is hence entitled to be called the " science of 
 knowledge," and its doctrine *' theory of science," par 
 excellence. 
 
 Inasmuch as philof^ophy is occupied with knowledge 
 alone, as its subject-matter, the philosopher cannot 
 recognise any sulistantive existence or thing-in-itself 
 outsFde knovvledge. Fuithermore, philosophy which is 
 concerned not with the content, l)ut with the conditions 
 of knowledge, has no more concern with the object of 
 psychology than it has with any erai)irical object of 
 external intuition. The task of philo-sophy is rather to 
 give a transcendental deduction of the process of knowing. 
 Scientific method demands that this deduction should 
 proceed from a single fundamental principle or axiom, 
 this fundamental princi]»lo being one which precedes the 
 distinction oetween speculative and practical that Kant 
 had formulated. The test of the correctness, nay of the 
 very existence, of a ** theory of knowledge " consists in its 
 ability, from a fundamental axiom, to deduce the subor- 
 dinate momenta or syntheses of consciousness. Of course 
 since consciousness is the fact to be explained, this 
 principle cannot fall within consciousness as any par/ of 
 its content. It must not be supposed, however, for this 
 
 Epoch IT.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 reason tliat " Theory of Knowledge " is a mere fiction of 
 the imagination: it is rather the disclosing of the 
 mechanism by which empirical consciousness comes to 
 pass — a mechanism wliich cannot per se be object of that 
 consciousness, inasmuch as it is the conditio sine qua non, 
 which that consciousness presupposes. 
 
 "Theory of Knowledge," as science, must constitute 
 a system which must contain implicitly the principles 
 of jdl other sciences. The fundamental axiom on which 
 " Theory of Knowledge " rests, must be one by which 
 the matter and form of knowle<l<j;e are alike conditioned. 
 "We have," says Fichte (Wtrlce, vol. i., p. 91), "to 
 search for tlie absolutely primal ultimate and uncondi- 
 tioned principle of all human knowledge. As an absolutely- 
 primal principle it does not admit of demonstration or defini- 
 tion. It must express that deed-action {Thathandlung) 
 which does not and cannot appear among the empiiical 
 determinations of our consciousness, but wdiich rather 
 underlies all consciousness, and alone makes it possible." 
 The primal act in and throup;h which the unity of the 
 subjective and oljective and all other syntheses is given, 
 Fichte finds in tile assertion by the ego of its own being. 
 The form in which lie expounds this ground-principle of 
 his philoso])hy is rather calculated to give rise to the very 
 misconception against which he guards his readers in the 
 passage above quoted, namely, that it can be proved. He 
 connects it at starting, that is to say, with the logical law 
 of identity of which tlie formula is A = A. Fichtes 
 only purpose in this, how^ever, is to convince the formal 
 logician wdth whom the above principle is ultimate, that 
 this very " law of thought," ultimate as it seems, is only 
 valid provided that A be originally posited; in other 
 words, that the law of identity is only tlie abstract formula 
 of the ori^diial act of "self-positing." The true formula 
 for the latter is the proposi ion lam I. 
 
 This first position of Fichte, as will be seen, is identical 
 with the " original synthetic unity of apperception " of 
 Kant. " That icJiose h('in<j ( essence ) consists merely in that it 
 posits itself as existent, says Fichte, " is the ego as ahsoliite 
 subject." Fichte wards oft* tlie common confusion between 
 the lof apperception, the ego as absolute, universal sulyect, 
 
 s 2 
 
2G0 
 
 MODERN PHlLOSOPHr. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 and the Me of empirical thought, the ego as relative, in- 
 dividual ol>jcct. " One often hears the question projMJunded : 
 what was I before I came to self-consciousness ? . . . The 
 possibility of the alxjve question rests on a confusion 
 between the ego as mihject, and the ego as object of the 
 refleciion of the absolute subject, and is in itself utterly 
 inadmissible. The ego forms the presentment of itself, 
 articulates itself in the form of presentation and becomes 
 gomeihiwf, an object ; consciousness acquires in this way a 
 substratum which is . . . sueh a state is postulated, and 
 it is itsked what was I then, i.e. what is the substratum of 
 consciousness. But at the very time this question is asked 
 tlw ahmlute suhject is assumed as the above substratum of 
 intuition ; in other words, that is surreptitiously replaced 
 in thought of which abstraction was professed to have been 
 made ; and the question thus contradicts itself. We cannot 
 think at all withiiut presupposing in thought the Ego as 
 conscious of itself ; we can never abstract from self-con- 
 sciousness, hence all questions of the above kind are 
 unansvveraiae, fi»rthey are, when properly understood, im- 
 possible {Werke, vol. i. p. 97). 
 
 From the Ego as absolute subject or activity all 
 reality is deducible. There is no reality but what is 
 translated, so to speak, by and from the absolute subject. 
 It will be now sufficiently clear to tlie reader that by 
 the I, or (to put it in its latinised form to which the 
 English reader is more accustomed) tlie Ego, Fichte 
 understands what Kant had confusedly in his mind when 
 he spoke of the jmre as t»pposed to tlie empirical Ego, 
 the pure self-conseiuiLsness which is the basis of all 
 em|.irical thought, and which the Konigsberg tliinker 
 subseijuently identifies with the Praetical Reason. Fichte 
 clearly enunciates what Kant ihxjs but indistinctly suggest, 
 namely, that the individual Ego is in the order of tran- 
 scendental deduction at the opposite pole to tlie pure Ego. 
 What was with Kant nierel.v a notion arrived at more or 
 less incidentally in the course of the working out of his 
 Kvstem, becomes with Fichte the cornerstone of the whole. 
 The attitude of the philosopher towards pure Egoition 
 (Ichheit) is not that of mere introspection, but it may Ije 
 rather termed intellectual intuition in which individual 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 2G1 
 
 existence passes out of view, and the object of intuition is 
 not so mucli existence as activity That this primary act 
 of egoition sutTices to explain all the facts of consciousness 
 it remains for the development of the system to show. 
 Inasmuch as the categorie.-^ are only so many momenta or 
 determinations of the Ego, and inasmuch as it is they which 
 determine the possibility of the object, it is obvi(jns that the 
 latter is only possible in so far as it is given by the Ego. 
 
 The second axiom of Fichte affirms the necessary op- 
 position of the non-ego as the correlate of the original 
 position. The corresponding logical form to this act of 
 op-i)Osition (Anstoss) is A is not B. The primary act of 
 position is incomplete without this secondary act of op- 
 position. With the fulfilment of these two postulates 
 the third is already given, for, as they mutually negative 
 one another and nevertheless are both of them absolute — 
 the one, absolute affirmation, the other, absolute negation, 
 their synthesis must be determination, that is, the abolition 
 of the absolute character of either of them per se, and the 
 assertion, so to speak, of absolute relativity. The first 
 axiom was unconditioned, alike as regards matter and 
 form ; the second is conditioned as regards its matter but 
 unconditione^d as to its form; the third is luicoiiditioned 
 as regards its matter but not as regards its form. In 
 these three axioms, thcsiti, antithesisy and synthesis^ we have 
 the framework of the Wissenschaftslehre. 
 
 The reader will observe in them a further progress 
 towards the completion of the Dialectical method. Ac- 
 cording to Fichte, we have here the categories of quality 
 and quantity in their pure form, and derive tliem from 
 their only source. In this primitive synthesis furnished 
 by (1.) the original self-positing I-ness or Egoition, (H.) 
 the non-ego posited by the first as op-position (Anstoss), 
 (III.) the resultant limitation of the former by the latter, 
 thereby abolishing its absolute character, all other syn- 
 theses are contained. ^^ e have now a clear road before us 
 along which to arrive at the solution of Kant's problem : 
 How are synthetic propositions a priori possible? or, which 
 is the same thing, How is experience possible ? a road 
 unencumbered by extraneous and useless hypotheses such 
 as *' things-in-themselves," &c. 
 
262 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 As yet, however, we are far from the complex, concrete 
 By n then is — expeiience — of which we are in search. We 
 must first see whether the original synthesis itself does 
 not contain implicitly its own antithesis, which, in its 
 turn, may pave the way for a second synthesis. In this 
 analysis or searcli for antitheses, and their comljination 
 into syntlieses consists tlie method of phih)sophy, a method, 
 as before observed, already shadowed fortli by Kant in his 
 table of the categories. This, of course, might be carried 
 on to infinity, were it not that the thesis embracing all 
 antitheses and syntheses, the self-identical Ego or absolute 
 principle of I-ness, forms at once the starting-point and 
 limit of our investigations. The goal of '* Theory ,of 
 Science" namely, is to ro;icli this i)riiiciple which is its 
 absolute commencement at the com]>letion of the circle of 
 its journey. It then appears as Kant's "law giving" or 
 *' practical " reason, as a striving for that which can never 
 be fully realised, in short, it re-appears at the limit of 
 the theoretic and piactical, as idea. Midway, so to 
 speak, between the absolute commencement and the 
 absolute goal, falls the finite, limited, divisible Ego of 
 individuation. The third axiom or synthesis, which 
 embraces the whole of " Theory of Knowledge," may be 
 briefly formulated thus : the Egt) posits itself and the non- 
 ego as reciprocd and determining. It is plain that this 
 proposition involves two. First, the E.io posits itself as 
 determined by the non-ego ; and second, the Ego posits 
 itself as determining the non-ego. In this distinction is 
 indicated the fundamental division of '* Theory of Know- 
 ledge " itself into theoretical or speculative, and practical. 
 The first has to s<»lve the jiroblem of Kant's /Esthetic and 
 Analytic, namely, how the Ego, or (which is the same thing 
 with Fichte) the pure and absolute Reason can arrive at a 
 knowledge of the object? The second deals with the 
 problems of Kant's "JJialectic" and "Practical IJeason," 
 and contains the answer to the question : How does the 
 Ego or Beason come to ascribe causality to itself? 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE, 
 
 263 
 
 Speculative "Theory of Knowledge.** 
 
 " Philosophy," says Fichte ( WerJce, vol. i. p. 425), " has to 
 assign a foundation for all experience ; its object therefore 
 necessarily lies outside all experience .... finite reason 
 has nothing outside experience; experience contains the 
 whole matter of its thinking. The philosopher necessarily 
 stands under the same condition, hence it seems incom- 
 prehensible how he can lift himself above experience. 
 But he can abstract, that is, he can separate by the 
 free action of his thought what is combined in experience. 
 In experience the thing, namely, that which is determined 
 independently of our freedom, and to which our knowledge 
 has to direct itself, is indissolubly bound up with the 
 intelligence which cognises it. The philosopher can make 
 abstraction from either of them, and ]]e has tlien abstracted 
 from experience and raised himself above it. If he 
 abstracts from the former, he retains intelligence per se, 
 that is, abstracted from its relation to experience ; if he 
 abstracts from the latter, he retains the thing per se, that is, 
 he abstracts from the fact tliat it enters into experience ; 
 he retains it as the only ground of explanation of ex- 
 perience. The first proceeding is called Idealism, the 
 second dogmatism" So much as to the standpoint of the 
 older pliilosophy ; but what as to that of " Theory of 
 Science," which cannot rest satisfied any more with the 
 mind-in-itself of the subjective Idealists than the thing- 
 in-itself of the dogmatists ? 
 
 Kant, who saw that the empirical idealist and the 
 dogmatic materialist were each right as against the other, 
 endeavoured to unite them meclianically. Hence his 
 repudiation alike of idealism and materialism as such, and 
 hence, also, his characterisation of his system as at one and 
 the same time empirical realism and transcenderdal idealism. 
 This mere mechanical combination will not suffice for 
 Fichte. "Theory of knowledge" requires a deduction 
 from one central principle. The " productive imagination " 
 of Kant, by which Fichte understands the activity of tlio 
 Ego as self-determining, which we have arrived at as the 
 original synthesis of the absolute Ego and its negation, is 
 
264 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Li'oca n* 
 
 tlie basis of tlie distinction of subject and object on which 
 the old abstractions turn. We now see wherein the 
 shortcoming of the old idealism and realism, respectively, 
 lay. loasmiich as the presentation is for the Ego a 
 limitation of its activity, it is regarded as foreign to it. 
 
 Let lis hear Fichte on this point. " Taking our stand 
 firmly at tlie point at which we are arrived (namely, that 
 of the primary synthesis), an opposition (Anstom) takas 
 place in the infinite activity (.f the Ego which, Ixcause it 
 is infinite, contains no gronnd of distinction ; and the 
 activity thereby in no way destroyed is refiected, forced 
 back, and thus acqnires a diametrically opposite diuction. 
 We may represent the infinite activity under the tigure of 
 a straight line ].assiug fn-m A through B into 0, &c. It 
 might be arrested within or beyond C. Let us assume 
 then that it is arrested at C. The ground theieof will 
 then, according to the above, lie not in the E-d but in the 
 Non-Ego. Under the given condition tlie direction of the 
 activity of the Ego going fiom A to C is reflected from 
 C to xV, but nothing can act npon the Ego, in so far as it is 
 Ego without an equivalent reaction. In the Ego nothing 
 can be destroyed, not even the direction of its activity. 
 Therefore the activity refiected towards A must, in so far 
 as it is reflected, at the same time react to C. And so 
 between A and C we have a double conflicting direction 
 in the activity of the Ego, in which that from C to A may 
 be regarded as passive, and that from A to as mere 
 activity; both together constituting one and the same state 
 of the Ego. This state, in wliich diametrically opposite 
 directions are united, is the activity of the ' imagination ' * ; 
 and we have now definitely obtained the olyect of our 
 search, an activity which is only possible throngli a 
 passivity, and a i.assivity which is only possible thiough 
 an activity." (Werke, vol. i. p. 4G.) 
 
 From this it will be seen why, on Fichtean principles, 
 an Idealism which would inalie the activity of the Kgo the 
 immediate source of objects, is as incoriect and one^ided as 
 the Realism according to which the object-world is entirely 
 independent of the activity of the Ego. The category of 
 
 * Of course tlie word is always employed in a truusceiukuttil, never 
 in an empirical seuac. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 265 
 
 Ideal-realism, as Fichte sometimes calls his system, is not 
 that of cause-and-efi"ect, or substance-and-accident, but 
 rather that of action-and-reaction. The formula for the 
 theoretical or speculative side of the doctrine is indeed 
 that '* the Ego posits itself as limited or determined by 
 the Xon-Ego;" this is supplemented, however, on the 
 practical side by the formula, '' the Ego posits the Non- 
 Ego as determined by itself (viz. the Ego)." Objects 
 then are given us thiough the •* productive imagination." 
 Netdless to say, we are still dealing with momenta prior 
 in nature to empirical consciousness. The object appears 
 here merely as limitation. It yet remains for Fichte to 
 deduce the remaining stages in the production of concrete 
 experience. In this exposition (which is given most 
 fully in some of the shorter pieces written subsequently 
 to the Grundlage itself) the main feature is, always keeping 
 in view the fundamental axiom that there is nothing in 
 the Ego but what is posited by itself, that the object as 
 object is a reduplication, so to speak, of the original act 
 of opposition, in other words, that it must become for 
 itself wh^t in the first place it was /or us* The Ego, m 
 order to refiect on any moment of it determination, and 
 thereby to constitute it object, must bo already beyond 
 that moment — must have left it beliind. 
 
 The first stage or moment is that of in-itselfness, mere 
 feeling, in which, as yet, there is no distinction between 
 outer and inner, feeling and felt, in the next stage the 
 Ego distinguishes itself from its feeUmj, and views the 
 latter as in a sense outside itself. In this moment of 
 outlook'ing, feeling l)ecome8 ditierentiated, pluralised—it 
 becomes mutual independence (space) and onesided in- 
 dependence (time). At this point, says Fichte, the 
 student may take up Kant's Transcendental ^Esthetic. 
 Just as the indefinite iiossibility of feeling becomes by 
 limitation or difterentiation, Intuiiion (Anscliauung), so the 
 indefinite possibility of Intuition becomes fixed, reduced to 
 actuality by the limitation impo>ed upon it by the 
 Understanding (FiersfawtZ). , 
 
 In the syntheses of the understanding the real is 
 
 ♦ This is important in view of the Hegelian Dialectic. 
 
266 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch XL 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 267 
 
 properly contained. The intuitions ordered and fixed by 
 its categories became henceforward real objects. The 
 feeling which the " productive imagination " distinguiyhes 
 into inner and outer in the previous moment is the chaotic 
 sense-world of Kant. The categories must not, however, 
 as with Kunt, be regarded as so many ready-made forms or 
 moulds, but rather like the schemata, as mo<les in wliich 
 the " productive imagination " operates in its creation of 
 objects. The necessity for any formal deduction of the 
 c^ttegories is, of course, done away with, inasmuch as they 
 fall into the natural cour.se of the exposition itself. 
 
 The intelligence, when it passes beyond the limits fixed 
 for it by the Understanding, becomes abstract or reflective ; 
 in the consciousness of the possibility of this consists the 
 "Pure Eeason" of Kant, in which self-cousciousness 
 proper is first explicitly given. The intelligence has thus 
 come to a consciousness of itself as such ; the circle is 
 complete. "Theory of Science" on its speculative side 
 is now perfect as a system. We close this section with 
 a quotation from Fichte on the method omplnyed in the 
 deduction of the system :— *' In realising this deduction, 
 he (the philosopher) proceeds as follows : Ee shyws thai 
 the first fundamental law ichich was discovered in immediate 
 mnseimisness. is not fossihle, unless a second action is eomhuud 
 with it, ichich again is not possible without a third action; and 
 so on until the conditimhs of the first are completehj exhausted, 
 and it is itself now inade perfectly comprehensible as toils possi- 
 hility. The teacher's method is a continual pro<!;ressi. )n from 
 the conditioned to the cjndition. The condition becomes 
 again conditioned, and its condition is next to be dis- 
 covered. If the pre-supposition of Idealism be correct, and 
 if no errors have l>eeu made in the deduction, the last 
 result, as containing all the ccnditions of the first act, 
 must comprise the system of all necessary representations, 
 or the totality of experience ;~a comparison, however, 
 which is not instituted in pldlosopUy itself, but only after 
 that science has finished its work." (Fichte, Werke, 
 vol. i. p. 446.) 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 Practical "Theort of Ksowledge." 
 
 Speculative " Theory of Science " while explaining the 
 Drocess by which consciousness comes to pass, the condi- 
 tions of it. possibility, although it indicated the fact of 
 the opposition or limiting by the Ego of its own activity 
 failed to demonstrate the ground ol this limitation, a task 
 reserved for the practical side of the Fichtean philosophy, 
 which has to answer the question. How the Ego becomes 
 conscious of itself as an active principle m the events ot 
 the world?— in short, as a moral agent. Ihe answer lies 
 in the proposition above given as constituting the fornuila 
 of the practical side of Fichte's doctrine, to wit, the Ego 
 posits itself as determining the Ts^n-Ego. This, which is 
 its Btartino- point, is also lis goal. Hence the supremacy 
 Kant had already averred the Practical Season to possess 
 over the Theoretical. The fundamental axiom of " 1 heory 
 of Knowledge " was the aihrmation by the Ego of its own 
 beins as absolute. The question now arises. How is the 
 finite obiectivc activity which has been deduced reconcil- 
 able with this basal thcis? only in one way, answers 
 Fichte, and that is, If the finite activity be conceived as 
 Lans and the infinite, end. This occurs when the Ego is 
 conceived as a strivnig towards mfanity, or, practically 
 expressed, as conscious of its own activity as cause, which 
 can only happen in so far as it overcomes a resistance ; aU 
 Ktrivint' imnlyiiig resistance to be overcome. 
 
 " 15y"as much as the Ego opposes to itself a Non-Ego, it 
 creates limits and places itself in these limits It distributes 
 the totality of the existence po-sited generally, between the 
 E-o and tlie Non-Ego ; and so fur posits itselt as necessarily 
 finite." (Werke, vol. i. p. 255.) This is as much as to 
 Bay, since the activity of the Ego is now no longer occupied 
 witii itself, but with the Kon-Ego, it has become olyective 
 r Fichte clinches his argumint by a reference to the German 
 Urd for object Gegenstand). " The object is only posited 
 in BO far as an activity of the Ego is ''e-^^sted; no such 
 activity of the Ego, no object. I he re ation is, that of the 
 determining to the determined. Only "' so far ^B the 
 above activity is resisted can an object be .posited ; and 
 
268 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Erocn II. 
 
 in so far as it is not resisted there is no object." (Ibid. 
 259.) The object, tleretbre, is necessary to the reaUsutMjii 
 of the Ego's activity; it creates tbeobject-woi Id not fur ihe 
 sake of that world, but for the sake cf realising itself in the 
 negation of that world. Tlie Ego thus at!iruis itself in a 
 higher form, attains reality, in other woids, consciousness 
 of its freedom, in the negation of its own negation -in 
 the ovei coining of that resistance which it has set up over 
 against it>elf. 
 
 The Ego now affirms itself as Will. The correspon- 
 dence of Fichte's doctrine at tliis >>ta^G with that of Scho- 
 penhauer, it may be observed in j)assing, is noteworthy. 
 Here then we have the ground of the original antithesis or 
 opposition. This could not be deduced from a merely 
 theoretical or specnlative point of view. The first division 
 of Theory of Science was obliged simply to postulate 
 the antithesis as a necessary compliment to the thesis, 
 without being able to give any further account of the 
 matter. "It is now/' t^ays Fielite, "obvious how tliis 
 question is to be answered. W itli the positing of the Ego 
 all reality is posited ; in tlic Ego all is posited : the Ego 
 must be absolutely independent, but all mustlxMbptiident 
 upon it. The agreement of the object with the Ego is 
 therefore required, and the abbolute Ego it is which for 
 the very reason that its being is absolute reciuires it." 
 (Ibid. 200.) Since Theory of Knowledge finds its highest 
 
 follows : The pure activity of the Ego, which leturns in 
 upon itself, in respect of a p<>.ssihl.e object is a striving, and 
 indeed, as above shown, an injinite striving. Tiiis infinite 
 striving is to all infinity the eondition of the j^ossihilifij of 
 all object; no striving, no object." The same method 
 obtains in the practical as in the speculative side of the 
 doctrine — here as there {jrogression is spiral, so to speak. 
 The in-itselfness of every moment of determination must 
 become a J'or- itself nesa in tlie next moment. The "produc- 
 tive imagination," the striving after the creation and 
 articulation of the object, becomes, wlien pursued into the 
 region of the practical, the striving for moral satisfaction — 
 
 Err>cH II.] 
 
 FICIITE. 
 
 269 
 
 the ethical impulse or tendency. The basis of the Ego as 
 "Productive imagination " was the Ego as Pure Appercep- 
 tion." The goal of the Eg«) as Freedom, Tendency, Will, 
 is the Ego as Idea or Ideal. The Ego as Absolute Subject 
 is un<(»nditioiied Fossihiliti/ ; the Ego as Ideal is un- 
 conditioned Actualitji. Noither the one nor the other can 
 be realised in the ]»lain of empirical consciousness which is 
 tlie- sphere of the limited or conditioned, although its know- 
 ledge i>resupposes the first and its ethical impulses the 
 second. In this the essential unity of the system is shown. 
 What with Kant had two distinct roots, namely the theoreti- 
 cal and practieal, and which it was impossible to bring into 
 conm^ctinn otherwise than in a purely mechanical manner, 
 is by Fiehte identified in one fundamental fact. The 
 categorical inqterative " the ought of that which has never 
 ha|>pened " of K:»nt, becomes, with Fiehte, the universal 
 striving, the impulse, nianifVsted on the one side in the 
 production of the real world as the presentment of the 
 E'^o, and vet as independent of the Ego, and on the other 
 by the ethical tentlency, the aim of which is to abolish 
 this inde[>endence and bring it back into subjection to 
 the Ego. 
 
 it has lieen remarked that there has never been a 
 system so antipatlietic to "nature" as Fichte's. Since with 
 Fiehte nature is identified with the non-ego, which it is the 
 ethical function of the Ego to abolish; his position with 
 regard to it is identical with that of the Buddhist ascetic, 
 for whom it is the mat/a, " that which is not and ought 
 not to be," or with the less logical Christian ascetic. This 
 side of Fiehte we sliall find developed in Schopenhauer. 
 Just as Kant only admits theology in so far as it serves as 
 a prop to Etliics, so does Fiehte. He stands, moreover, by 
 the distinction of Kant between the legal and the moral, 
 between which Fi<lite maintains that there is no sort of 
 connection, the object of law being to supply the means 
 by N\ hieli its mandates are to be maintained, even though 
 justice and good faith should have vanished from among 
 men. lieuce law justly ignores morality, for morality 
 deprives law of its raison d'etre ; the just man being a 
 law to liimself. It is in dealing with these questions, 
 more opeeially in the Grundlage des Naturrechts (IFer^e, 
 
270 
 
 MODEEN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 271 
 
 vol. iii.), that Fichte gives his deduction of a plurality of 
 individuals or rational beings. This deduction is on the 
 Baiiie lines as that of the original opposition (Amtoss). At 
 first sight it is not easy to comprehend the possibility of 
 deducing from the one indivisible Subject, or impersonal 
 Reason, the plurality of individual subjects, but, says 
 Fichte, the Ego must be conscious of itself as active, that 
 is, must " ascribe to itself a free activity in the sense- 
 world." It cannot do this " without ascribing it to others, 
 and therefore assuming other finite rational beings out^ide 
 itself." 
 
 The absolute Ego had already posited objects as the 
 material for its activity to work upon. But they can 
 only serve their purpose in so far as their necessity is 
 given. The seal is affixed on this necessity when the 
 testimony of others is added to my own. The universal 
 Ego or I-ness, which is the condition of all consciousness, 
 must therefore posit it>elf as individual Ego in a world of 
 individual Egos, united under the categoiy of reciprocity. 
 The conception of individuality '' is obviously a reciprocal 
 conception, that is, one which can only be thought, in 
 and through the thought of another, and it is indeed con- 
 ditioned by the same thought as to its form. It is only 
 possible in any rational being in proportion as it is given 
 as completed by another ; it is therefore never mine, but 
 on my confession mine and hia, his and mine ; a concep- 
 tion common to both, and in which two minds are united 
 in one. . . . The complete union of conce))tion8 de- 
 scribed, is only possible in and through actions. The 
 consequence therefore is that it consists only in actions, 
 and can only be required for actions. Actions occupy 
 here the place of conceptions, and conceptions in them- 
 selves apart from actiolis do not and cannot concern us.'* 
 (^Werke, vol. iii. pp. 47-48.) 
 
 To each individual Ego a portion of the world- 
 whole is preserved as the sphere of its own exclusive 
 freedom, and the limits of these spheres constitute the 
 rights of the individual. Within its own sphere the 
 individual Ego justly ascribes to itself causality. That 
 portion of my sphere of freedom which is the starting- 
 point of all the changes to be wrought by me in the world 
 
 I 
 
 / 
 
 of sense, is my body. This therefore is the immediate 
 object of right or law. Tliere can be no question of any 
 obligation on the part of the individual to enter the state 
 of law, but once entered therein, ir follows as a natural 
 consequence that he respect this state. We see evidences 
 heie of the inevitable social contract theory. Like Kant, 
 Fichte sees in the state the instrument for giving sanction 
 to rights by force, or, as he might define it, the condition 
 of the realisation of right. Ficlite's view of the state is 
 that of the protector of the personality, in other words, of in- 
 dividual freedom. Property he considers as necessary to the 
 maintenance of the personality. But the state exists for 
 Fichte merely as a convenience, whose highest aim should 
 be to abolish itself by rendering itself unnecessary. We 
 must not leave this subject without noticing the remark- 
 able anticipations of Socialism to be found in Fichte. In 
 his early essay on the Frencli Eevolution he proclaims 
 labour the sole basis of wealth, and hence the sole justi- 
 fication f tr its possession. In speaking of the collective 
 organisation and subdivision of labour, and the posses- 
 sion by each citizen of the full product of his labour 
 and this alone, he says, " Property will thus be uni- 
 versalised ; none would have superfluities while there 
 were any wanting necessaries, for the right of property 
 in articles of luxury has no foundation while any 
 citizen lacks his necessary portion of property. Agri- 
 culturists and workmen will associate themselves for the pro- 
 duction of the greatest possible anunint of icealth with the 
 least posxihle amount of labour. ^^ Other sociMlistic passages 
 are to be found in the Geschlossene Handelstaat. "Each 
 desires to live as pleasantly as possible ; and since every 
 man demands this, and no one is either moie or less than 
 man, all have an equal right to make the demand. The 
 division must be made accordingly on the basis of this 
 equality, so that each and all may live as pleasantly as 
 possible." Fichte boldly proclaims it the function of his 
 '* state " to secure an equal enjoyment of the products of 
 labour among its members. 
 
 Ficlite's Ethics (Sitterdehre) are, like the "Jurispru- 
 dence" (^Rechtslehre)y divided into three sections, the tirst 
 containing the deduction of the principles of morality, the 
 
272 
 
 MODEEN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 pErocH II 
 
 second dedncinK its reality and applicability, and tlie third 
 dealing with th*^ system of duties. Fichte mainiains in 
 the first the necessity, even in the absence of any end, of 
 ref!:H]ating action in accordance with a pre-determint il 
 standard, to be the fundamental axiom of man's moral 
 nature. He here expresses, in a dry hard formula, the 
 basis of a whole school of Ethic^a school which embraces 
 all the so-called B:thical or universal religions of the 
 world. AVrapped up in imagery, in rhetoric, and concealed 
 by theoh)gieal tlieories, the corner-stone of the morality 
 of the>e religions, all turn upon this arbitrary premiss, if 
 we dt» but pursue it far enough. As will be already 
 apparent to the reader, it is a legitimate consequence froni 
 what Fichte terms the laactical side of his " The(>ry of 
 Knowledge." He theie showed us the Ego erecting a 
 world over against itself for no other purpose than to 
 realise its power in the subjugation of that world. That 
 the individual should determine his actions fur the mere 
 sake of determining them, is the n«;ces>ai y coioUary from 
 this. Fichte has the merit of being the only thinker 
 who has grasped the ground axiom of the morality 
 which has been current among men for ages, and has 
 logically carried it out. He proceeds to develop his 
 doctrine respecting the moral tendency as causal factor m 
 the events of the woild, distinguishing between the 
 sensuous impulse, or impulse to happiness, and the moral 
 impulse. The moral impulse leads to a satisfactir»n, a 
 happiness, which could never be obtain. -d were it the 
 object immediately sought after. Ethical theory frees 
 men from the worsltii* of this idol, happiness, and proclaims 
 the end of all action to be the lealiNation of the Ego as 
 Idea, viz. the "moral order of the world," to which 
 Fichte applies the term " God." This is th« ba^is of reli- 
 gion as understood by Fichte, which is identified with the 
 moral impulse in its highest form. Its object, as idea, can 
 of course never be realised in eminiical consciousness; 
 the relation of human life to this Idea mnst ever remain 
 like that of tile a-ymptote to the hyperlx)l€% a ci»ntinuous 
 approximation, a becominL' whieh never becomes, which is 
 never finished. 1^ ielitti polemieises Jigainst the conception 
 of God as existing object. Those who conceive the Albo- 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 273 
 
 lute as being have really emptied the concepti<m of its 
 
 content. It is obvious from the main principle of Fichte's 
 
 philosophy that the Absolute must not be considered as 
 
 an existence over against ourselves. We must rather, in 
 
 our own personality, be it and live it. The conception of 
 
 the Deity as substance or personally, in however vague or 
 
 refined a form, Fichte stigmatizes as the last remnant of 
 
 Paganism from which it is the function of *' Theory of 
 
 Knowledfi^e " to deliver men ; any question as to an author 
 
 of the'* moral order of the world," is to Fichte just as 
 
 inadmissible as the questi((n as to the cause of the Deity 
 
 would be to the ordinary Theist. Existence is a sensuous 
 
 conception which has no locus standi in these matters. 
 
 \\ ith tlie Ego as Idea, as " the moral order of the world," 
 
 the system of Fichte reaches its final conclusion. It is 
 
 not uncommon to divide the Fichtean doctrine into two 
 
 periods ; the later developments of the system, however, 
 
 show no essential points of difference. The terminology 
 
 employed is sometimes more carefully chosen with a view 
 
 of accommodation to the Theological faculty which had 
 
 procured his expulsion from the university of Jena, but 
 
 that is nractically all. 
 
 With Fichte, as with Kant, Ethics is conceived ab- 
 stractly. In this respect the systems of both thinkers may 
 be alike regarded in the light of attempts to reconstitute 
 the Christian and introspective Ethics, threatened by the 
 collai)se of the dogmatic system of which they fijrm part, 
 on a more secure basis. In many post-Kantian thinkers, 
 but notably in Fichte, we find this deification of 
 morality as such, this assumption of morality as an 
 end in itself, nay, as the telos of all. A great deal of the 
 entliusiasni called forth by Kant may oe referred to 
 the belief that he had rehabilitated the old theological 
 molality against the mere negations of the revoluti«mary 
 writers and eff'ectually rendered it independent of any 
 theological basis. lliis hope, as might oe iinagined, 
 proved but short-lived. The imi)ossibility of a Christian 
 Ethic apart from a Christian Theology has been con- 
 B])icnously illustrated in the collapse of the Kantian 
 arid post-Kantian schools, a collapse almost wholly trace- 
 able to their staking their existence upon the achievement 
 
274 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoci 
 
 of this impossible feat. Tlie ffillacy running tbroughout 
 tliem may be found in the hypohtasis of the mere abstract 
 form of the moral consciousness, viz. freedom. The eflfect 
 of this* galvanised intr(.8|)ective ethics was in the long run 
 decidedly chilling. Well might Maria von Herbert com- 
 plain to Kant that when put seriously to fche test, his 
 '^ categorical imperative " availed her nothing. It was no 
 abstract "imperative" or '^freedom," with a personified 
 " sum-total of all reality," or an impersonified" moral order 
 of the world " as its goal that inspired a St. Bernard, a 
 St. Francis, or a Thomas-^- Kern pis. The ethics of inward- 
 nem was in them a living reality, because it grew out of a 
 speculative belief which to them was a living reality also. 
 
 The distinction between the introspective ethics of 
 the old Christian theology and that of Kant and tbe 
 post-Kantian s, is as the distinction between life and 
 electricity, l)etween nature and art. The sooner it is 
 recognised that the " ethics of inwardness " is a part 
 of a whole, that it cannot live separately from a particular 
 conception of the world, and of man's relation to the w(>rld, 
 in other words, from a religion of the supernatural or spiritual 
 as such, the better for consistent thought. The nou -recog- 
 nition of tliis is only an instance, allieit a serious one, 
 of the common fallacy of regarding as fundamental in 
 human nature what is merely the characteristic of a special 
 epoch of historic evolution. 
 
 In the earlier periods of history, — not to ppeak of 
 the vast pre-historic era — the individual, as such, did 
 not exist, morally speaking, so completely was he ab- 
 sorbed in the social whi-le — in the gens, the tribe, the 
 "ciry." Morality was then purely outward; men sac- 
 rificed themselves for the community as a matter of 
 course; in active devotion to the community consisted 
 all religion and all duty. The decay of the old 
 social and race ideals was synchronous with the rise 
 of another relij^ion and morality, that of the individual 
 as such. This was the religion and morality taught by 
 the so-called '* ethical religions " of the world, and which 
 reached its ultimate expression in Christianity. It formed 
 part of a new conception of the universe, in which the 
 old standing-ground was radically changed, by the intro- 
 
 1^)011 II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 275 
 
 duction of the notion of the spiritual over against the 
 natural, Keligion and morality, from being social and 
 natural, became individual and supernatural ; the test of 
 the value of the individual was no longer to be found in 
 his relation to the community existing without him, but 
 in his relation to the divinity revealed within him. The 
 spiritual or the supernatural abhors the natural as much 
 as the *' nature " of our giandfathers abhorred a vacuum, 
 and hence the essence of the ethics of " inwardness " has 
 alwavs consisted in the negation of the *' natural man," 
 in other words, in self-renunciation for its own sake— in 
 asceticism. It is this ethics of " inwardness " which Kant 
 and the post-Kantian s thought to rehabilitate apart 
 from the supernatural theoh)gy, with which it is both logi- 
 cally and liistorically connected. The most pronounced 
 representative of this ill-fated attempt was Fichte. 
 
 The author of the Wisseiischaftslehre proclaimed in all its 
 baldness the doctrine that the negation of the phenomenal 
 individual is the final end of all morality. His desire to 
 assort the ethics of inwardness blinded Fichte to the 
 crudely abstract nature of the doctrine he propounded. 
 As the outcome of supernatural religion, with its mystic tl 
 relation of the individual to the divinity, it is real enoujih. 
 The necessity of connecting it with something corresponding 
 to the old '' sj[)iritual '' ground was vaguely felt by Fichte, 
 as it had been felt by Kant, and is expressed in his con- 
 ception of the "moral order of the world "as idea; but 
 the support was too weak to hold it. 
 
 All morality of couise involves a possible sacrifice of 
 the individual in the interest of something "not himself" 
 as individual. The fallacy of the introspective ethics 
 when projiosed as a rational basis for conduct consists in 
 treating this purely abstract element — this negative 
 moment — ot the moral consciousness as though it com- 
 prised the whdle concrete synthesis of that consciousness. 
 Ethics, concretely viewed, does not, as the doctrine of 
 " inwardness " assumes, either begin or end with the 
 individual per se, be it as regards affirmation or verfation. 
 Its reference to the individual as such is purely secondary 
 and inci'lental. 
 
 The Fichtean negation* of the natural impulses of the 
 
 T 2 
 
276 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Eroai II. 
 
 individual is therefore utterly barren and objectless, since 
 8nch negation only acquires meaning when directed 
 to a definite social end.* The bare form ot the moral 
 consciousness, freedom, the glories of winch Kant and bis 
 successors trumpet so loudly, is a mere abracadabra apart 
 fiom a positive content? and such a positive content, it 
 not furni>hed it by the arbitrary mandates of a supernatural 
 being, revealing himself directly to the individual, inunt 
 be supplied by the needs of the social whole into which 
 the individual enters. The determination given to this 
 *• freedom," or which is the siime thing otherwise expressed, 
 to this possibility of subordinating directly personal in- 
 terests to those which may be termed impersonal (i.e as 
 to what natural impulses shall be suppre.-sed, and what 
 not suppressed) is conditioned entirely by the forms of 
 the social environment. 
 
 Any ethic which leaves this out of account, v/hether it 
 be based on the " categorical imperative," the idea of the 
 "moral world-order," or what not, remains abstract and 
 dogmatic, which is as much as to say, it belongs to the 
 past and not to the future. As a matter of fact neither 
 Kant, Fichte, nor their sucees-surs really listed satisfied 
 with the abstractions they professed to glorilv ; they read 
 into their categories, and necessarily so, the current 
 morality. The result was to close up their avenue of 
 vision to a true view of the subject, by making them 
 postulate the morality of the age as absolute. 
 
 It will |)rubably have been evident to the reader, apart 
 from all this, that there is a distinct line of cleavnge 
 
 » In Ethics, if aiivwhere, we have presented the cutegory of '* reci- 
 t.r..eitv;* or mutual Jeteriiiiiiation, riitlier than that of "causality, or 
 ou('-.-*iiled determination. In tl.t- mdiridual resides th(3 " nioral 
 
 tcBdeucy," the i»tentiality to the pursuance ot impersonal aims. Ihia 
 is only Hctualised, only neeives a determination vvhen the in. ividiial 
 Ls re«;.irded as ent-rinjr into tlie constittitioii of Njci.-ty. IKretJie 
 iit-'ution of indivi.Iual interest i> .. nlixd as athrmation of s()cial 
 inu'iest For Fichte and his toliool {cide mpra) society exists only as 
 tbod (so to speak) tor individual - fret-doni' (te. ti^r the moral iinimlses 
 of the in<lividual), which is its only mmm d'etre. This monstrous hypos- 
 tuMs is, we are well aware, the basis of the current lao.ality, but it is 
 as fallacious a "subreption" as any which Kant gibbt-ts in his " paru- 
 l<."i?ms " An act of s.ll-r.stiaint apart from a d.tinite social eii<l is as 
 ba'-n u ethically as a prcipositiou resin -ctiug " pure be ing ' is speculativ cly 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 FICHTE. 
 
 277 
 
 between the speculative and practical sides of " theory' of 
 knowledge" as ctmeeived by Fiehte, which he vainly 
 endeavours to conceal. The fundamental opposition 
 between the moral and the natural, by which it is the 
 function of the Ego, as practical activity, to abolish that 
 which the Ego, as theoretical activity, had called into being, 
 can hardly tail, we think, to strike the average student as 
 a result somewhat arbitrarily imposed upon a doctrine 
 which begins by annulling the absoluteness of the dis- 
 tinction between the Ego and the non-Ego, upon which 
 the old dualism rested, and athrming their ultimate unity. 
 One would have imagined such a doctrine should rather 
 have led, as its practical issue, to a *' rehabilitation of the 
 body " to a declaration of the unity of man and nature, 
 which it has show^n to be, after all, a part of the ultimate 
 essence — a crucial moment in the realisation of con- 
 sciousness — rather than to an Ethic of asceticism and 
 self-negation. The negation of nature would then mean 
 merely the negation of its antagonism to man, not the 
 absolute negation for which Fichte contended.* 
 
 The WisHenschafislehre, as might be expected, found 
 opposition not only from the representatives of pre-Kantian 
 views, whose influence and numbers by this time ha<l 
 considerably dimini.s]ied, but also from the Kantians and 
 semi-Kanrians, who were by no means disposed to recognise 
 Fichte for what he himself cl dined to be, the representa- 
 tive of the logical devel<»})iMeMt and perfecting of the 
 critical system. Not to mention the disciples of Kant, who 
 all took up the quarrel, the master himself disclaimed 
 all connection or sympathy with Fichte in the most 
 empdiatic manner. Jacolii and his school also joined in the 
 onslaught. The WUscnsehaftslehre thus found itself sitnul- 
 taneously attacked by Kantians, pre-Kantians, and religious 
 illuminists. In addition to these, there were of course the 
 popular writers, who, in spite of protestations and expla- 
 
 * For an interesting,' account of the lift^ and pliilosopliy of Fichte, the 
 student is rrfVrn-d to Froftssor A<lani.son'a ' Fichie,' in IJlackwood'.^ 
 8«'ries. This litile volume also contains one of t!ie clearest condensed 
 Btatements in popular Enj^'lish of the *' speculative " principle and 
 method, that we have seen. 
 
278 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. [EpocM II. 
 
 nations, persisted in treating the absolute Ego of FicKte as 
 though it referred to the individual Ego, and who amused 
 themselves and their readers by affirming that " Professor 
 Fichte regarded himself as the Creator of the world." But 
 notwithstanding the opposition raised against him, Fichte 
 succeeded in gathering together a small but enthusiastic 
 circle of disciples. Foremost among these was the thinker 
 with whom we shall next have to deal. 
 
 SC HELLING. 
 
 Fredi^irick WiLiiELM JosEPH ScHELLiNG was bom January 
 27, 1775, at Leon burg in Wiirtemburg In his sixteenth 
 year he entered the Theological Seminary at Tubingen, 
 where, in addition to theology, he occupied himself with 
 philoKophical and philological studies. Some years later 
 he went to Leipzig, where he devoted himself chiefly to 
 Mathematics and Natural Science. 
 
 In 17l»8, he taught, together with Fichte, at Jena ; in 
 1803 he was called to the chair of philosoi)h3^ at Wiirzburg. 
 He became subsequently secretary to the Academy of 
 Sciences at Munich, after which he lectured at Krlangen 
 for some years. The last official pohiti«)n he held was in 
 the university of Berlin, but this he gave up some years 
 before his death, which took place in Switzerland, AugUl^t 
 20, 1854. SchellingV works, which occupy 1 4 volumes, were 
 published in a complete edition, between 185G and 1860. 
 
 System of Identity. 
 
 Schelling's Philosojfhy, or '* The System of Identity," as 
 he termed it, exhibits some not inconsiderable variations 
 in its earlier and later form. As already intimated, Schelling 
 was originally a follower of Fichte. His fundamental 
 divergence from the Wissenschaftslehre consihted in an 
 accentuation of the indiflerence of the basal principle of 
 knowledge as regards the distinctions of subjective and 
 objective, real and ideal, mind and nature. These and all 
 minor distinctions are implicitly contained, and yet 
 resolved, in the original identity, the Al)solute. 
 
 The Idealism of Fichte, Schelling found to be too sub- 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SCHELLING. 
 
 279 
 
 jective. We have already seen that Fichte started with 
 the Ego as the primordial activity, which all knowledge 
 presupposed, to end with the Ego as Idea, which all 
 morality presupposed. The Fichtean system is thus to 
 some extent open to the criticism Fichte had himself 
 made as regards the " Critical Philosophy," namely, that 
 it did not form, so to speak, a complete circle. The fault 
 is, according to Schelling, that it was one-sided; that 
 although it might lay claim to the title of " Ideal-Kealism," 
 it could not be called at the same time " Real-Idealism." 
 
 Knowledge consisting of an agreement of an objective 
 with a subjective, the problem of Philosophy or " Theory 
 of Knowledge," is, according to Schelling, to determine 
 how the object, the sum-total of which we call nature, can 
 enter into consciousness, and also how the subjective, or 
 rather the sum-total of its determinations, mind, or 
 intelligence, can become object as part of nature. " The 
 sum of all that is purely objective in our knowledge we may 
 call Nature, while the sum of all that is subjective may be 
 designated the EgOy or Intelligence. These two concepts 
 are mutually opposed. Intelligence is originally conceived 
 as that which solely represents Nature, as that which is 
 merely capable of representation ; the former as the 
 conscious ; the latter as the unconscious. There is, more- 
 over, necessary to all knowledge, a mutual agreement of 
 the two — the conscious, and tlie unconscious per se. The 
 problem is to explain this agreement." Philosophy 
 thus necessarily falls into two main divisions, *' Nature- 
 Philosophy," which deals with the problem, so to speak, 
 of the subjectivisation of the object and " Transcen- 
 dental Philosophy," which treats of the objectivisation 
 of the subject. " Transcendental Philosophy," in Schel- 
 ling's sense, regards Nature as the visible organism 
 of the Understanding, while ** Nature-Philosophy " has 
 to explain the Understanding, as a product of Nature. 
 In order to account for the progress of Nature from 
 the inorganic to the organic and psychic, Schelling 
 has recourse to the time-honoured theory of a world- 
 fashioning principle or world-soul. " The necessary 
 tendency of all natural science," says Sclielling, " is to 
 proceed from Nature to Intelligence, this and nothing else 
 
\ 
 
 280 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOniY. 
 
 [Erocii II. 
 
 lies at the bads of the endeavour to /educe natural 
 pbenonicna to theory. The completed /b^^ory of nature 
 loubi be one wbicb resolved the ^vbole -^ ;^;- "^^ "^^o 
 intelligence. The dead and unconscious products of nature 
 arc only the unsncceseful attempts of nature to become 
 
 conscious of itself. Dead nature i« ^^/^^ ^.^^^IJ^i tlev 
 gciicc, hence its idienoniena, notwithstanding that they 
 
 are unconscious, reveal a ^^^^f^^^^^ "'^^ jf'k^nained 
 final goal of becoming completely; >b)cct to itself i«^^ "^ 
 l>y nature in itn highest and hnal reflection, which is 
 nothing other than man, or, expressed more ^^^^j;;^ l^'^^!^ 
 what ^ve term Keason. It is here that '^^^^''^^^ 
 eomidetely in upon itself, wliereby it is evident that n.itnre 
 
 fe S^'?ly ^^^^ ^^^1^ ^^^^^ ""^^ '' '^ ""' recognised 
 as conscious and intelligent." n i.^ i. i„^« 
 
 Transcendental Philosophy has for its problem^ to deduce 
 the necessity of our assumption that things «ist outside 
 of us. it is not within everyone's power to do this, but 
 it requires a special f\iculty, that o ; internal intuiU.^ 
 The diilosopher seizes the act ..t sclf^conscii.iusness in the 
 momlnt of its becomir.g. In this of course ^f^^ ^^ 
 ao-reement with Fichte. Inasmuch as ^J\;l^^'/^.f /^^^ ^^ 
 the E^n>, no other being is posited but its. If, it has to 
 rketii'arbitvary act its .d^ect. The task of Trn^scen- 
 dental Philosophy on its theoretical side is fiom this act 
 t d^uce the\i^essity present in oloective experience. 
 ^'n^L fundamentaf prejudice to which aU otliers are 
 reducible is this : tliat tliere are things outside ot us ; an 
 opinion which, while it rests neither on P^'f « '^^'V^" 
 conclusions (lor there is nut a Mngle irrefragable pioot ot 
 S and yet cannot be uprooted by any opposite proof 
 (mturamfurcd expella., hmen usque redlhit), lays claim to 
 iinmediate certainty; whereas, iua.much as it refers to 
 something (I uite different from us— yea, opposed t.i us-- 
 and of whicli there is no evi<lence how it can come into 
 immediate conseioiisness, it must be regarded as nuilimg 
 more than a prejudice— a natural and original one, to be 
 ZZ 1ml nclvertlieless a prejudice. The contradiction 
 IvinL- in the fact that a conclusion which in its nature 
 c-annot Ix) immediately certain, is, nevertheless, bliin Jy ami 
 without grounds, accepted as such, cannot be solved by 
 
 EvoriH II.] 
 
 SCHELLING. 
 
 281 
 
 transcendental philosophy, except on the assumption that 
 this couelusion is implicitly, and in a manner hiiherto not 
 manifest, not founded upon, but identical, and one and the 
 same with an affirmation which is immediately certain ; 
 and to demonstrate this identity will really be the task of 
 transcendental philosophy." 
 
 Sehelling divides the process of the production ot 
 the Keal into three stages; the first exten.iing from 
 original blind feeling to productive intuition. Feeling, as 
 given limitation, has its ground in a previous activity 
 which cannot fall within consciousness, inasmuch as its 
 result, passive limitation of feeling, is the prininrdial stage 
 of consciousness. The progress from tliis stage to the 
 following one consists, according to Sehelling, in the out- 
 going of the infinite activity beyond its previous point of 
 detennination ; what it then was /or us it now is /or itself. 
 At this point Sehelling seeks to show why the perceived 
 or intuited feeling must appear spacially in three dimen- 
 sions, in other words, as matter. Then begins the second 
 period, from i^rodudive intuition to reflection. Here again, 
 the course of the deduction consists in showing how the 
 intuition comes to be for itself what it was previously 
 for the act of contemplation. This period contains the 
 whole multiplicity of the objective world as the con- 
 Bcioubless production of the Ego, besides the deduction of 
 time and space and the categ«.ries, which latter, however, 
 are much reduced by Sehelling, the categories of relation 
 being indicated as the ground of all the rest. 
 
 'i he category of Peciprocity phenomenaliscd in time and 
 space is expressed in Organisation. The interconnection of 
 the parts of an organism is not a case of cause and effect, but 
 of action and reaction. The universe viewed under the 
 catet^-ory of reciprocity may thus be regarded as an organic 
 whole. In this also is given the ground of individuation 
 in the subject, the (explanation why the Ego hitherto 
 limited merely bv the object in general, passes into a 
 second limitation *by which it is compelled to intuito the 
 universe from certain limited points of view, each one of 
 which stands in the relation of accident to the sum of 
 thino-8. The third epoch embraces a third limitation, 
 which is the foundation of Will. It is clear that the 
 
282 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 question why I regard a portion of tbe universe as 
 speciaUy belonging to myself, as my organism, is intimately 
 connected with the question, how I come to regard the 
 remainder of the universe as altogether independent of 
 myself? Schelling's answer to this is that it takes place 
 through an act of will. The transition from the theoretical 
 to the practical sides of Schelling's philosophy are thus 
 effected in a manner precisely analogous to that of Fichto. 
 There is little indeed in Schelling's transcendental deduc- 
 tion which shows any essential variation on the correspon- 
 ding division of tlie Wissenschaftslehre. The gist of the 
 deduction is well given by Schelling himself when he says, 
 •' As natural science produces idealinm out of realism, by 
 mentalising the laws of Nature into the laws of intelli- 
 gence, or superinducing the furmal upon the material, so 
 transcendental philosophy produces realism out of idealism, 
 by materialising the laws of nature, or introducing tho 
 material into the formal." ^ 
 
 In his practical philosophy Schelling is still mainly at 
 one with Fichte. What Fichte calls the deduction of tho 
 opposition (Anstoas) constitutes the starting-point. The 
 act of will has to he explained, the inherent contradiction 
 between freedom and necessity which muht be conceived 
 as united in it has to be resolvt'd. The category of 
 reciprocity effects this, inasmuch as it is shown tliat this is 
 brouglit abijut by the acti< >n of intelligences outside the 
 individual Ego. I'he co-operation of many intelligences 
 produces a world common to all. Through the inter- 
 action of individual intelligences arises the limitation 
 of individuality. The world common to all is the 
 arena of our conscious action, the sphere within which 
 we know ourselves as causiil agents. This turns upon the 
 fact (and here Schelling's substantial agreement with 
 Schopenhauer comes into view) that what we call action 
 is only a modified form of perception, since perception 
 itself is ultimately nothing but uncouKcious action. For 
 this reason, le, becaune they are ultimately identical, 
 Nature and Freedom can never really contiict. How at 
 one© the objective world conforms itself to ideas in us, and 
 idean in us conform themselves to the objective world, it 
 is impossible to conceive, unless there exists between the 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SCHELLING. 
 
 283 
 
 two worlds (the ideal and the real) a pre-established 
 harmony. But this pre-established harmony itself is not 
 conceivable, unless the activity, whereby the objective 
 world is produced, be originally identical with that which 
 displays itself in volition, and vice versa. 
 
 **Now it is undoubtedly a (productive) activity that 
 displays itself in volition; all free action is productive 
 and productive only with consciousness. If, then, we 
 suppose, since the two activities are one only in their 
 principle, that the same activity which is productive m<A 
 consciousness in free action, is productive ioi7/wM< consciou^ 
 ness in the production of the world, this pre-established 
 harmony is a reality, and the contradiction is solved.' 
 Freedom can never transcend the laws of Nature, and the 
 fact that impulse falls within the sphere of Nature, does 
 not affect its intrinsic character. (This, be it observed, is 
 nothin<' but Kant's phenomenal necessity united with 
 noumenal freedom otherwise put.) Schelling proceeds to 
 build up on the basis of the above a social, pohtical, and 
 historical theory, which, in spite of occasional suggestive- 
 ness, shows no real advance upon Fichte. 
 
 The main difference between Schelling and the author 
 of the Wissensehaftslehre appears conspicuously in the 
 "Philosophy of Art," and here again we find a striking 
 correspondence with Schopenhauer. The fundamental 
 distinction between nature and art is that between con- 
 scious and unconscious production. Nature has the 
 appearance of design without being consciously formed 
 according to design. The Ego is for itself and in itself, at 
 one and the same time conscious and unconscious, m the 
 art-perception. In art, which is the product, so to speak, 
 of an inspiration which is itself unconscious, consciously 
 exercised, is realised that Ideal which practice or morality 
 is ever striving to attain but never reaches. Art is the 
 resolution of an infinite contradiction; beauty is the 
 incomprehensible miracle V)y which the ideal is materialised 
 and the material is idealised, by which Nature is pre- 
 sented as the infinite possibility of freedom, and freedom 
 as the definite reality of Nature. 
 
 The aisthetic faculty occupies the same pre-eminent 
 position with Schelling that the moral impulse or 
 
284 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 conscience does with Ficbte. Artistic perception is the 
 objecti vised transcendental. Art and philosophy have it 
 in common that their subject-nifttter is a reality, but an 
 idealised reality. The production of the artist and of the 
 philosopher is alike a reproduction of the world which is 
 in himself. The jesthetic or artistic consiciousness forms 
 therefore the conclusion of the system. Its commence- 
 ment is intellectual intuition, its close is artistic intuition. 
 Intellectual intuition, inasmuch as it does not fall directly 
 within empirical consciousness, can only be ap[>reciated by 
 the philosopher who can distinguish it, and hence philo- 
 sophy,as philosophy, will never be available for everybody. 
 The aesthetic intuition, on the contrary, is mc^rely the 
 highest and most complete phase of empirical consciousness, 
 and therefore art is available for all, potentially, if not 
 actually. As Philosophy and Poetry were in the inftiucy 
 of mankind united in Mythology, so its maturity will 
 produce a new mythology, which will present in idealised 
 form, not the history of any individual hero, but of the 
 whole human race. 
 
 The departure of Schelling from Fichte is crucially 
 shown in his constituting " Philosophy of Nature," co- 
 ordinate with " Transcendental Pliilosophy." In this, ob- 
 viously, "Transcendental Philosopiiy " is conceived as a 
 science purely of the subjective, to which a corresponding 
 science of the objective is a necessary complement. The 
 opposition between them is resolved by Schelling's notion 
 of the Absolute as pure "inditierence" or '■ identity." In 
 philosophy of Nature, Nature is legarded as productive 
 (jmiura naturans), not as product (natara naturata). 
 Nature is here viewed as >< If-limiting productivity; on 
 the one hand njaintaining its own infinity, while at the 
 same time crystallising itself in limited products or 
 phenomena. As the stream flows endles.sly on, notwith- 
 standing tlie continuous passage into notldngness of its 
 individual drops, so it is with Nature; it is ceaselessly 
 creating and annihilating itself in its products. Nature 
 may thus be viewed as a struggle between the principles 
 of uni versa! isat ion and individuation, a struggle mani- 
 fested in a series of attempts, so tt speak, to realise an 
 equilibrium. This is called by Schelling the " dynamic 
 
 Epoch H.] 
 
 SCHELLIXG. 
 
 285 
 
 process" of Nature, and is worked out by him in the form 
 of an emanation- theory. 
 
 Schelling, as we have already seen, defines the Absolute 
 Keason as the complete indifference between object and 
 subject. This conception is attained by distinguishing 
 between the act of thinking and the thought. This 
 absolute identity is the true in-itself-ness of things, and to 
 know "things in themselves," is to know them as they 
 are in the Absolute Eeason. 
 
 The " absolute identity " of Schelling is, in spite of 
 Schelling's protestations to the contrary, in no way 
 distinguishable from the absolute Ego of Fichte, all 
 quantitative difference, (»f course, falling within the 
 region of the finite. The fundamental formula for the 
 Absolute being A = A, that for the Kelative is A = B, 
 fsubject and object being combined in various proportions. 
 In itself of course, nothing is relative. Were we 
 able to take in the universe in an "infinite glance," 
 we should discover perfect quantitative equilibrium 
 between .subjective and objective ; it is only in individual 
 things that proportionate differences between these two 
 elements occur. There is nothing outside the whole; 
 the notion of anything existing apart from the system 
 of thin"\s which is the manifestation of the Absolute 
 is due 1o the error of reflection which separates and 
 indivi<luali8es tlie inseparable and the universal. The 
 quantitative differences existing in finite things as to the 
 subjective or objective element they contain are termed 
 by Schelling potences. The first potence is matter in 
 which the two elements or momenta are united as gravity. 
 Here we have the preponderance of the object ; the second 
 is light, the preponderance of the subject ; the third is 
 the j^-nthesis of both— organisation— which, according to 
 Schelling, is common to all matter. The correspondence 
 of ScheUiiig with Leibnitz is apparent when he speaks of 
 inorganic niatter as a sleeping plant and animal world. 
 The'^lnctrine of evolution, it Ciinnot be denied, is distinctly 
 present in Schelling's NatnqMoHophie. Man is simply 
 the result of the entire procos of organic metamorphosis. 
 What we term inorganic matter, contains within itself the 
 potentiality of life ; it represents, in its present foim, the 
 
286 
 
 MODERN PHTLOSOPHT. 
 
 p?!i'OCH IL 
 
 abortive product of tlie attempt of nature to become 
 organic. In the ideal sphere the potences are, Knowledge, 
 Action, and lieason. The first gives us the " true," the 
 subsuming of matter under form ; the second the " good," 
 the subsuming of form under matter ; and the third, the 
 synthesis of these — the " beautiful." 
 
 The later developments of Schelling show an ever 
 increasing tendency to go off into mere mysticism and 
 theosophy. From 1804 onwards a strong Neo-platonio 
 bias is shown in all his writings. This culminated after a 
 lengthf'ued study of the mediaeval mystics of Germany, 
 and of Jacob Boehme, in literary productions which 
 amount to little more tlian fantastic rhapsodies of a 
 religio- poetical nature. The exposition of these need not 
 detain us, inasmuch as tliey have no important bearing on 
 the subsequent history of philosophy in Germany, such 
 influence as they exerted being purely on mystical 
 litterateurs, such as Schlegel, Tieck, Nuvalis, &c., if we 
 except some slight impulse they may have given to 
 mythological studies. 
 
 Schelliiig's system as a whole can hardly be regarded 
 as embodying any solid advance on Fichte, although there 
 are certain departments in which Fichte was e8|)eciaUy 
 lacking upon which Schelling is suggestive. This is 
 notably the case as regards Art. Fichte, like Kant, in his 
 apotheosis of that emptiest of all simulacra " moral 
 freedom," entirely ignores the Art-consciousness. In 
 Schelling's Philosophy of Art, though there is much that 
 is artificial and of no speculative value, there are also 
 some luminous thoughts of which Hegel and later writers 
 on iP]sthetics have availed themselves. As regards 
 method, Schelling is distinctly retrograde, if indeed he 
 can be said to have any method at all. His system is, 
 moreover, based upon the purely psychological distinction 
 of subject and object, the importance of which Fichte had 
 to some extent gauged at its true value. Schelling 
 assumes the distinction as ultimate, and then endeavours 
 to transcend it by a mere phrase. Well might Hegel 
 complain that Schelling's Absolute appears in his system 
 " as though it had been shot out of a pistol." The later 
 writings of Schelling show him to have been essentially 
 
 / 
 
 Epoch H.] 
 
 SCHELLING. 
 
 287 
 
 rather what the Germans called a schongeist— the cultured 
 man of letters with a religio-aisthetic cast of mind — than 
 the philosopher pure and simple. 
 
 The " System of Identity " succeeded in obtaining a 
 following, not only in the philosophical world, but, 
 as was to be expected, amongst purely literary men. 
 It was eminently congenial to the spirit of the romantic 
 school, then in fhe height of its renown. That it should 
 have attracted men of science, may seem somewhat 
 surprising, yet so it was. The naturalist, Oken, the 
 botanist. Von Esenbeck, the physiologist, Bui dach, among 
 others may be mentioned as disciples of Schelling. Among 
 the philosophical adherents and expanders of the system 
 may be named, G. M. Klein, J. J. Wagner the 
 theosophist, F. Von Baader and K. C. F. Krause. The 
 two latter, although they are sometimes regarded as 
 the founders of independent systems, have in all essen- 
 tials drawn from Sehelling. The celebrated theologian 
 Schleiermacher also belonged to the school of Schelling. 
 
 Before entering upon an analysis of Hegel's system, 
 which at least, so far as method is concerned, forms the 
 culmination of the line of thought we have been consider- 
 ing, we propose to turn aside in order to take a survey of 
 two other schools of thought, which also have their 
 origin in the '* Critical l^hilo^ophy." Kant, as we know, 
 makes an absolute distinction between Sensibility and 
 Understanding. Senpe is always with Kant the material 
 principle, Understanding, the formative principle, in the 
 synthesis of Keality. *' ii:8thetic " and " Analytic " are 
 the two co-ordinate pillars on which the structure of the 
 Critical Philosophy rests. The Sense-element in Know- 
 ledge is as incapable of reduction to terms of the Under- 
 standing as the Intelligible-element is to terms of Sense. 
 Fichte, in his deduction of experience from the one funda- 
 mental principle of Egoition, took his stand on Kant's 
 formal element, the Understanding, the starting-point of his 
 system, being discoverable in the deduction of the cate- 
 gories from the original " unity of apperception." Fichte is, 
 perhaps, not always quite consistent, since he sometimes, 
 
288 
 
 MODEHN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 especially in his later writings, seems to identify his 
 primoraial activity with a mere alogical impulse; but 
 nevertheless his sheet-anchor is, as he repeatedly insists, 
 ml/'consciousnem'-the formal nnity, tlie *' I think —of 
 Kant. Fichte, in other words, starts with a formal 
 principle ; with him /or-itsell-ness is practically ultimate, 
 and includes w-itself-nesH ; concrete reality is thus dedu- 
 cible from the formal activity of tliouiilit alone, the *'I 
 is confounded or identified with tlie *' think." 
 
 It is not proposed to pursue the subject further now, 
 inasmuch as we shall have to recur to it again in treating 
 of Hegel, in whom we find the principle fully and con- 
 sistently carried out. We shall then endeavour to show its 
 inevitable effect, as it appears to us, in the working out 
 of the speculative method. Our only object in mentioning 
 it here is to point out the position occupied by the Imo 
 of thought, of which Schopenhauer and Herbart represent 
 the two*oppo8ite poles, and which is based on the Transcen- 
 dental ^Esthetic. Witli these schools, the Alogical whether 
 as impuhe (will) or feeling, constitutes the prim of ex- 
 perience. Schopenhauer analyses experience into the 
 momenta of an impersonal all-determining W ill ; Herbart 
 into discrete self-centered units of feeling. Fur the one, 
 Keality is a continuous whole ; for tlie other, a congeries, so 
 to speak, of separate points ; the basis of thu one is 
 Monistic, that of the other Pluralistic, lioth these schools 
 alike reject the speculative method, as is only natural, 
 considering that they found on the " il^sthetic " side of 
 the ** critical philosophy." The idea Avliich is confusedly 
 present in Schelling's system is distinctly ft»ruiulated by 
 Schopenhauer. Schelling sought for a i)riiiciple other 
 than thought, and imagined he had found it m the phrase 
 " Absolute Identity," or " Inditierence." Schopenhauer 
 asserted that tlie principle other than thought— the matter 
 of wliich thought was the form— was Will undetennmed 
 by any specific content. Schelling seems to have a 
 confused consciousness of wliat is lacking in Fichte when 
 he charges him with subjectivism, a defect he evidently 
 thinks his principle of " indillei ence " sui»plies. Sclielling's 
 grasp of the speculative method was, however, so weak, 
 especially in the later writings, that he has little 
 importance in this conned iun. 
 
 Epoch XL] 
 
 SCHOPENHAUER. 
 
 289 
 
 SCHOPENHAUER. 
 
 Arthur Schopenhauer, the founder of Modem Pessimism, 
 
 was born 22nd February, 1788, at Dantzig. His father, 
 
 a successful merchant in the old Hanseatic town, was a 
 
 great traveller for those days, besides being a man of 
 
 considerable culture. The wandering life of his youth 
 
 was doubtless not without its influence in the formation 
 
 of young Schoi^enhauer's character. He resided for some 
 
 time both in France and England, the pietism of the 
 
 latter country proving particularly, obnoxious to him. 
 
 Early in 1805 Schopenhauer entered a merchant's office, 
 
 where he remained, much against his inclinations, for 
 
 twelve months ; after which, his father having died in the 
 
 meantime in consequence of an accident, he entered the 
 
 university of 0' tha, with the intention of devoting 
 
 himself to literature. He subsequently left Gotha for 
 
 Weimar, then at the zenith of its literary splendour, his 
 
 own mother, Johanna Schopenhauer, the novelist, being a 
 
 prominent figure there. In 1807 he repaired to Gottingen, 
 
 where he matriculated in the medical faculty. After 
 
 some further travelling, in the course of which he visited 
 
 Italy, he finally settled down at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, 
 
 where he remained, with but little intermission, until his 
 
 death on September 21st, 18G0, and where most of his 
 
 works were written. 
 
 Schopenhauer, though not so voluminous a writer as 
 Fichte or Schelling, possesses a literary charm, wanting in 
 all other German philosophers. He was an ardent 
 student of those remarkable products of Oriental thought, 
 the XJpanischads, and it is to these, conjoined with Kant, 
 that his conception of a systematic Pessimism must be 
 immediately traced. Schopenhauer's chief work is his 
 ' World as Will and Presentation.' He is also the author 
 of a treatise, *0n the fourfold Root of the principle of 
 adequate cause ' (his first work), of two charming volumes 
 of miscellaneous essays to which he gave the name of 
 *Parerga and Paralipomena,' of a treatise on *Will in 
 Nature?' and other less important pieces. 
 
290 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Philosophy of Schopenhauer. 
 
 In his earliest work, *Tlie Fourfold Boot,' Schopen- 
 hauer takes his stand on Kant's reduction of space and 
 time to subjective forms. He, however, blames Kant tor 
 having assumed twelve categories where one only, that of 
 Causality, is necessary. He also criticises Kant s sepa- 
 ration of perception from thought, since space and time 
 themselves are but one of the four forms of the principle 
 of causation which is as much sensuous as intellectual. 
 The four forms of the principle of causality, m question, 
 are termed by Schopenhauer respectively the ratio essendi, 
 Jiendi affendi, et cogmscendL The two first forms are 
 constructive of the object itself. The ratio essendi is 
 nothing other than the space and time form of tJio inner 
 and outer sense— succession and co-existence. The ratw 
 fiendi is the relation of things as cause and effect, 
 properly so called. By this relation, causality con- 
 stitutes the object in time and space, real. Tlirough 
 causality alone can it become object; hence the notion, 
 of an object apart from the relation implied m causality 
 (e.g. a first-cause) is a contradiction in terms. The 
 three chief phases of mme-and-effect are mechanical 
 impact (inorganic), irritability or reflex action (organic), 
 and motive (psychic). Every change of state pre-supposes 
 a prior state; hence the absurdity of the assumptions of 
 Theism. Matter is the only reality, inasmuch as a timed, 
 spaced, and caused object, must necessarily be material. 
 The ratio fiendi of Schopenhauer, unlike Kant's category 
 of cause and effect, is not, as it were, thought into the object 
 by the understanding ; the causal relations proper, of the 
 latter, are as much intuited as its time and space relations. 
 The third principle, the ratio cognoscendi, is not, like the 
 two former, ccmstructive of the object, i.e. not creative ; it 
 is the faculty of discursive thought, which by Kant, Ficht^e, 
 Schelliug, and their school, has been falsely, under the 
 name of the " Keason," given a pre-eminence over those 
 principles which go to the construction of tlie real. The 
 ratio cognoscendi is, in short, merely the faculty of forming 
 abstract conceptions. The fourth form of the principle ot 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SCHOPENHAUER. 
 
 291 
 
 Cause, the ratio agendi, shows us the principle as deter- 
 mined from within, but none the less necessarihf determmed, 
 in other words as individual will or motivation. To sum 
 up r the principle of Cause in its four forms, interpenetrates 
 the world, but inasmuch as it is only a principle belonging 
 to our faculty of presentation, it follows that the woiid 
 itself is nothing but our presentation. The Ego itself is 
 but phenomenal, and appears as individual in so far 
 as it is an object in time and space, since they may be 
 called the principia individuationis. My body has as much 
 right to the appellation microcosmos as the universe has 
 to the appellation mahanthropos. 
 
 The foregoing exposition, which is contained in ' The 
 Fourfold Kuot,' may be regarded, taken by itself, as little 
 more than a rectified Kantism. This view is modified 
 directly ,the main position of Schopenhauer is taken into 
 consideration. Schopenhauer's philosophy does not rest 
 satisfied with an analysis of the world as phenomenon, 
 that is, as subordinated to the principle of causation. It 
 claims to have a word to say on the world regarded as 
 thing-in-itself, as noumenon. The immediate investiga- 
 tion into the nature of experience discloses a something 
 which we call world, appearing under divers forms, all of 
 which may ultimately be regarded as modes of causation. 
 But what is this thing which appears, which becomes 
 object of consciousness — what is the thing, that is con- 
 sidered apart from its appearance ? Schopenhauer's answer 
 is, tliat tcJiich appears is not consciousness, for the latter, 
 pursue it as far back as you may, still remains only the 
 form assumed by the thing itself; this, the matter of the 
 world, is not conscious but a-conscious, not Intellect but 
 
 Will. 
 
 '■ The idea of the soul as a metaphysical being," says 
 Schopenhauer, "in whose absolute simplicity will and 
 intellect were an indissoluble unity, was a great and 
 pei-manent impediment to all deeper insight into natural 
 phenomena. The cardinal merit of my doctrine, and that 
 which puts it in opposition to all former philosophies, 
 is the perfect separation of the will from the intellect. 
 All former philosophers thought will to be inseparable 
 from intellect; the will was declared to be conditioned 
 
 u 2 
 
292 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 by the intellect, or even to be a mere function of it, 
 whilst the intellect was regarded as the fundamental 
 principle of our spiritual existence. I am well aware that 
 to the future alone belongs the recognition of this doctrine, 
 but to the future philosophy the separation, or rather the 
 decomposition of the soul into two heterogeneous elements, 
 will have the same significance as the decomposition of 
 water had to chemistry. Not the soul is the eternal and 
 indestructible principle of life in man, but what I might 
 call the root of the soul, and that is the Will Ihe so- 
 called soul is already a compound ; it is the combination of 
 will and vovs, intellect. The intellect is the secondary, 
 the poslerius in any organism, and, as a mere function of 
 the brain, dependent upon the organism. The will, on 
 the cohtrary, is primary, the prius of the organism, and 
 the organism consequently is conditioned by it. Hor the 
 will is the very ' thing-in-itself,' which in conception 
 (that is, in the peculiar function of the brain) exhibits 
 Itself as an organic body. Only by virtue of the forms of 
 cognition, that is, by virtue of that function of the bram— 
 hence only in conception— is one's body something ex- 
 tended and organic, and not apart therefrom or immedi- 
 ately in self-consciouhues^s. Just as the various single 
 acts of thu budy are nothing but the various acts of the 
 will portrayed in the represented world, so is the shape 
 of this body as a totality, tlie image of its will as a whole. 
 In all organic functions of the bod} , therefore, just as in its 
 external actions, the will is the * agens: True physiology 
 shows the intellect to be the product of the physical 
 organisation, but tme metaphysics show, that physical 
 existence itself is the product, or rather the appearance, 
 of a spiritual agens, to wit, the will ; nay, that matter 
 itself is conditioned through conception, in which alone it 
 exists. Perception and thought may well be explained by 
 tiie nature of the oi ganism ; the will never can be ; the 
 contrary is true, namely, that every organism ongmates 
 by and from the will." ( Ueher den Willen in der Natur, 
 2nd edition, 1854, Frankfort, pp. 10-20.) The foregoing 
 quotation may fairly be taken as a succinct epitome of 
 the more purely metaphyftical side of Schopenhauer's 
 philosophy. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SCHOPENHAUEH. 
 
 293 
 
 Our consciousness of ourself is a consciousness of ourself 
 as object; that which becomes consciousness of itself, in 
 other words, the in-itselfness of the world, and a fortiori, 
 of ourselves as individuals, is nothing other than that 
 element of our nature which we term Will. By the word 
 Will, in Schopenhauer's sense, is to be understood all 
 impulse whatsoever, mechanical, physical, chemical, no 
 less than organic and psychic. It is the same impulse 
 which is manifested in gravitation, in magnetism, 
 which expresses itself in the growth of the plant, in 
 the reproduction and development of the animal, and 
 in the will of man. Why, then, it may be asked, does 
 Schopenhauer employ the word tvill rather than force 
 to designate this in-itselfness, this infinite potentiality 
 of the world? His reply is, that he designates it by the 
 term connoting its highest expression (as it is immedi- 
 ately known to us) ; will is known immediately, force 
 mediately only. "The distance," observed Schopen- 
 hauer, "the indeed, in appearance, complete diversity 
 between the phenomenon of inorganic nature, and that 
 Will which we perceive to be the inmost nature of our 
 own being, arises mainly from the contrast between the 
 fully determined regularity of the one, and the apparently 
 lawless independence of the other class of phenomena. 
 For in man the individuality comes strongly to the fore ; 
 each has a special character, hence the same motive has 
 not tlie same power over all, and there are thousands of 
 surrounding circumstances having their place in the wide 
 sphere of individual knowledge, but remaining unknown 
 to others, which modify its effect ; for this reason^ the 
 action cannot bo predicted from the motive alone, inas- 
 much as the other factor is wanting, namely, the exact 
 acquaintance with the individual character and the 
 knowledge accompanying it. On the other hand, the 
 phenomena of natural forces exhibits the opposite extreme ; 
 they act according to universal laws, without deviation, 
 without individuality, in accordance with obvious circum- 
 stances, and are capable of the most precise prevision, the 
 same natural force manifesting itself in millions of 
 phenomena precisely in the same way" (Welt ah Wille, 
 vol. i. pp. 134-5), 
 
294 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 The most immediate objectivation of the will is the 
 organism or body. For th6 Subject of knowledge the 
 body is given in a twofold way, as an object amongst 
 objects, fcubject to the laws of matter, and as the direct 
 embodiment of Will. The act of the will and the act of 
 the body are not two tilings bound together by a can sal 
 nexus, — the action of the body does not follow the action 
 of the will, as an eftect follows a cause — but the two 
 states are the same fact ditVerently viewed, in other words, 
 as above stated, the l)0{ly is the immediate objectivation 
 of the will. The question as to the exibtence of the 
 external world resolves itself, when closely viewed, into 
 the question whether the objects known to the individual 
 merely as such, tliat is, merely as presentations, are, like 
 his own body, manifestations of Will. We are justified, 
 according to Schopenhauer, in applying the analogy of 
 the object, our own body, whicli, as we have .-aid, is 
 manifested in a double way, to other objects which 
 are not so manifested. Tliey agree with it in that they 
 are phenomena of consciousness. Let us abstract from 
 this aspect of them, and they remain either nothing at 
 all, as the subjective idealist aflBrms (an assertion which is 
 obviously a redmtio ad absurdum)^ or else they must be of 
 the same nature with that which in ourselves we term 
 will. As in man that which determines character is will, 
 so the qu(dity which distinguishes things, which gives 
 them their specific character, consists in the particular 
 stage in the objectivation of the will which they represent. 
 The will, as manifested in time and space and subject to 
 cause, appears in an infinity of individuals, for time and 
 space are the princi|)lo8 of individuation. In itself, on 
 the other hand, the Will is absolutely one and indivisible. 
 
 Between the will as thing-in-itself, and the will as indi- 
 vidufilised in space and time, we have to consider the will 
 as expressed in the several stages of its objectivation. 
 These stages of the objectivation of the will corres[)ond to 
 the ideas of Plato. They are the eternal changeless forms, 
 the permanent entia^ of which the evanescent flux of 
 individuals partakes, and by which they are more or less 
 imperfectly exjtressed. This doctrine furnishes the basis 
 for Schopenhauer's theory of Art, just as the doctrine 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SCHOPENHAUER. 
 
 295 
 
 of the Will (or as Schopenhauer sometimes terms it the 
 « will-to-live "), as thing -in-itself furnishes the basis for 
 
 his theory of Ethics. -n xi,- • Ue^if 
 
 We have already seen that the will as thmg-in-itselt 
 is opposed to the Will as phenomenon or object of con- 
 sciousness, as which it tends to lose its essential cha- 
 racter. The essence of will consists m activity, m a 
 Btriving after something unattained. The essence ot 
 intelligence or understanding, as Schopenhauer terms 
 it that is, of completed consciousness, consists, on the 
 other hand, in passivity—in the contemplation of an 
 object as given. In ordinary Empirical consciousness, 
 however which takes place under the forms of time and 
 space, the two aspects, that of the world as will and the 
 world as perception api)ear, together. It is only m the 
 art-product, in the aesthetic consciousness, that intelligence 
 or perception is to l)e found pure and undisturbed by the 
 restless striving of Will. First of all let us hear 
 Schopenhauer on the essential nature of Will. All 
 willing," he says, *' arises from desire, that is from want, 
 that is from suffering. Satisfaction makes an end of this ; 
 but nevertheless, for every wish that is gratified, there 
 remain at least ten unfulfilled. Furthermore, desire lasts 
 lone:- its yearnings are infinite, while satisfaction is 
 short, and sparingly measured out. But even the satis- 
 faction is only illusory ; the gratified wish at once gives 
 place to a new one ; the former is a recognised the latt:er 
 a still unrecognised, mistake. Lasting, imfeding satis- 
 faction, no desired object of the wUl can aflord ; it is like 
 the alms thrown to the beggar, which prolong his lite lor 
 the day, only to postpone his suffering till the morrow. 
 So long, therefore, as our consciousness is absorbed m our 
 will, so long are we given up to the stress of wishes with 
 its continuous hoping and fearing ; so long as we are the 
 subject of will, lasting happiness or rest will never be our 
 lot Whether we pursue or flee, dread evil or strive alter 
 pleasure, is essentially the same, the care for an ever onward 
 uro-inff mil, it matters not what be its shape, ceaselessly 
 moves and fills the consciousness ; but without rest no 
 true happiness is possible. Thus is the subject of the will 
 bound eternally on the revolving wheel of Ixion, thus 
 
296 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch H. 
 
 does it ceaselessly gather in the sieve of the Danaids, thus, 
 like Tantalus, is it ever languishing" (Welt ah Wille, 
 vol. i., § 38). In this fine passage the Pessimistic doctrine 
 is admirably expressed. Schopenhauer's pessimism is 
 something more than empirical pessimism. It claims a 
 character of a priori certainty. The absolute Will, in 
 sundering itself into I and not I, entered a fiery ordeal 
 which can only be terminated by the negation of the icill 
 to live, but of this more auon. To the common mind 
 pleasure is positive, and pain negative. For Schopenhauer 
 this is an illusion, the reverse being the truth. Pain is 
 the positive, and pleasure the negative. Pleasure being 
 nothing more than the cessation of a pain, or the satisfac- 
 tion of a want, consequent on which new pains or new 
 wants obtrude themselves. In short, since nil Will implies 
 action, all action want, all want pain, it follows that pain 
 and miseiy are the essential condition of Will, and of that 
 ordinary empirical consciousness into which Will enters, 
 Le. the consciousness which is subordinated to space, time 
 and cause, and which constitutes the illusory world of 
 multiplicity and individuation — the veil of the Maya, to 
 employ the language of the Upanischads. But as^ before 
 said, there is another kind of consciousness which is pure 
 and free from any admixture with Will as such. 
 
 It is this consciousness which contemplates the stages of 
 the Will's objectivation in their pure form and not as dis- 
 torted by the time and space world of individual things. 
 In this ajsthetic contemplation the Will becomes more or less 
 completely dominated by, or, wo may rather say, metamor- 
 phosed into, " presentation "{Vorstellung)^ the latter in this 
 case not being, as in ordinary consciousness, merely " the 
 servant of the Will." The third book of Schopen- 
 hauer's Welt ah Wille urid Vorstellung, is occupied with a 
 discussion on the place occupied by the several depart- 
 ments of the fine Arts in the presentment of the Will's 
 objectivation. The idea, although not suliject to the 
 various forms of the principle of causality, bears never- 
 theless the most universal characteristic of knowledge or 
 presentment, that of being an object for a subject. As 
 individuals, we have no knowledge but such as is involved 
 in causation, and from the knowledge of individual things 
 
 Epoch IT.] 
 
 SCHOPENHAUER. 
 
 297 
 
 we can only raise ourselves to the knowledge of the ideas 
 by virtue of a change in our cognitive nature, by which, 
 from being individual it becomes universal. The natural 
 state wherein consciousness or perception is at the service 
 of the Will is in the case of animals not to be transcended. 
 Man alone can attain to a knowledge of the idea in so far 
 as his consciousness severs itself from its natural obedience 
 to the Will. In the fixed contemplation of the object in 
 its intrinsic nature, the Why, the Wherefore, and the When 
 of things is neglected ; their Whatness, their quality, is 
 alone considered, not in discursive thought but in imme- 
 diate perception. This peculiar mode of cognition is the 
 foundation of Art; in the Art- work the idea seized in 
 this act of contemplation, is reproduced under the forms 
 of empirical consciousness. The aim of Art is the pre- 
 sentment of these ideas, which are the essential and 
 permanent in all the phenomena of the world. What is 
 the process by which the creations of Art are produced ? 
 asks Schopenhauer. " It is supposed by the imitation of 
 Nature ; but wherein shall the Artist recogni.^e the success- 
 ful in her and the work which is to be imitated, and pick 
 it out from among her abortive attempts, if he do not 
 anticipate the Beautifid prior to experience f Besides, has 
 Nature ever furnished a human being perfectly beautiful 
 in every respect ? It has been supposed that the Artist 
 must gather together the beautiful sides of many indi- 
 vidual human beings, and out of these piece together a 
 beautiful whole, a false and foolish opinion ! For we ask 
 again, How shall we know that precisely these forms are 
 beautiful and those not? * * * Purely a posteriori and 
 through mere experience no knowledge of the^ Beautiful 
 is possible ; it is always at least in part a priori, although 
 of course, in a difi'erent sense to the forms of the principle 
 of cauKC of which we are also conscious a priori." 
 
 The idea as such,which the Art-work rei»roduces, is apart 
 from space, time and individuation, but its reproduction 
 through a sensuous medium shows various gradations 
 represented by the various Arts. In Music we have the 
 purest and most immediate reproduction of the idea ; in 
 all the other Arts, notably Sculpture and Painting, this 
 takes place through special archetypal forms, the Platonic 
 
298 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 SCHOPENHAUER. 
 
 299 
 
 ideas proper, "but in Music without the iiiterveution of 
 any special form. " After having," najs Schopenhauer, 
 "considered in the foregoing all the tine Arts m that 
 universality which our standpoint demands, beginning 
 from Architecture, whose end, as such, is to render clear 
 the objectivation of the Will at the lowest stage of its 
 manifestation, where it appears as dull, unconscious, 
 determinate impulse of the mass— though even here reveal- 
 ing differentiation and struggle, to wit, as between graviiy 
 and fixity^and closing our consideration with the tragedy, 
 which, at the highest stage of the objectivation of the 
 Will, exhibits its conflict with itself in fearful magni- 
 tude'and clearness, we find there is still one of the tine 
 Arts which has of necessity been excluded from our inves- 
 tigation, since there was no place for it in the systematic 
 connection of our exposition ; it is Mmic. It stands apart 
 from all others * * * The Ideas are the adequate objectiva- 
 tion of the Will ; to excite the knowledge of these through 
 the presentation of individual things is the end of all the 
 Arts They all objectiviso the Will mediately, namely, 
 throufrh the Ideas, our world being nothing but the 
 phenomenon of the Ideas in plurality, by means of the 
 principium indmdmtioms which is the only possible form 
 of knowledge for the individual. Music, on the other 
 hand, inasmuch as it transcends the Ideas, is completely 
 independent of the phenomenal world, ignores it entirely, 
 and could, in a sense, exist, even though the world were 
 not, which cannot be said of the other Arts. Music is, 
 therefore, as immediate an objectivation and retlection of 
 the Will as is the W orld itself ; or as are the Ideas, whose 
 manifold phenomenon the world of individual things, is. 
 Music is thus in no wise like the other Arts, the copy of 
 the Ideas, but the copy of the Will itself, whose objectivity 
 the Ideas are. For this reason the etfect of Music is so 
 much more powerful and impressive than that of the 
 other Arts, tbr wliile they speak only of shadows, it speaks 
 of substance." {Welt ah Wille, vol. i., § 52.) 
 
 The delight atibrded by the Beautiful, the joys ot Art, 
 the enthusiasm of the Artist, all turn upon the fact, that 
 in Alt the striving of the Will is temporarily stilled. In 
 aisthetic contemplation we cease to will, we become purely 
 
 
 passive, we cognise merely. But Art, though a quietude of 
 the Will, does not deliver it for ever, but only during 
 moments of life, and is therefore not the way out of the 
 struggle, but at best, a temporary consolation withm it. 
 The final deliverance which constitutes the main problem 
 of the Ethical side of Schopenhauer's philosophy, is dealt 
 with by him in the fourth book of the Welt als Wille, 
 The Will-to-live which involves a ceaseless strife, a never- 
 ending effort to attain the unattainable, and therefore an 
 ever-present suffering, may bo, according to Schopenhauer, 
 either affirmed or denied. Its affirmation takes place 
 when the individual surrenders himself to the Will which 
 is objectivised in him, by obeying his natural impulses 
 tending to the preservation of himself and the reproduc- 
 tion of the species. It is denied, when the Will- to-live— 
 not necessarily life itself,* but the desires which minister 
 to the preservation and reproduction of life— are ex- 
 tinguished within him. The basis of all practical morality 
 is sympathy with the suffering inseparable from life, a 
 sympathy which is the outcome of the consciousness, vague 
 or clear, of the ultimate identity of our own Will with the 
 ^Vill of all other sentient beings. The Ideal goal of 
 Ethics is the final negation of the Will-to-live, the way to 
 which is to be found in asceticism. Consciousness, the 
 last phase of the W ill, must be played out before the 
 end can come. Not until all desire is extinguished m 
 case deliverance finally be accomplished. Schopenhauer 
 naturally found the typo of his asceticism m the Buddhist 
 monk, and to a somewhat less extent in the Trappist. 
 "In this way," concludes Schopenhauer, " m the con- 
 templation of the life and career of the saints to meet 
 with whom is seldom granted to one's own experience, 
 but of wliich their written history assures us with the 
 impress of inner truth that is upon it, and which Art 
 brincrs before our eyes, we have the dark impression of 
 that°nothingness that looms as the final goal behind all 
 virtue and holiness, and which we dread as children 
 dread the darkness. Instead of, like the Hindoos, seeking 
 
 • Suicide Schopenhauer repar<led as a clumsy solution of the prob- 
 k-m, since thi- will is not thereby destroyed, but only, so to speak, 
 temporarily inverted. 
 
300 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 to evade it through myths and meaningle^ words, such 
 as reabsorption in the world-soul, or the Buddhist JNir- 
 vana, let us rather confess freely that after the complete 
 destruction of the Will, what remains is, for all those who 
 are still immersed in the Will, assuredly nothingness. 
 But on the other hand, for those in whom the Will has 
 already turned against and denied itself, this our so very 
 real world, with all its suns and galaxies, is also nothing- 
 ness." (Welt aU Wille, vol. i., § 17.) 
 
 In spite of the abuse and ridicule which Schopenhauer 
 heaped upon the Guild-philosophers, as he termed Fichte, 
 Schelling and Hegel, there is very little in nis system 
 which is not discoverable incidentally at least in the works 
 of the two former thinkers. With Fichte, of course, selt- 
 consciousness was a starting-point, but the self-conscious 
 Ego reappears later on in the system as moral impulse, 
 which for Fichte, as for Schopenhauer, consists in the 
 neo'ation of the phenomenal world through Asceticism. 
 Schopenhauer is, of course, far more logical m tins 
 respect than even Fichte, who does not carry the principle 
 of asceticism to its final issue of self-starvation, like the 
 pessimist writer. In Schelling, again, the conception of 
 Will as prim is clearly traceable. Schopenhauer s chiet 
 merit lies in the clearness and consistency with which he 
 carries out positions which had heretof(jre been either 
 imperfectly developed or thrown out more in the form of 
 suggestion than of positive theory. The promiiiL'iice 
 Schopenhauer gives to the distinction between the Alo- 
 gical or Material and the logical or formal element m 
 experience, to which we have already alluded, is the most 
 original feature of the purely metaphysical side of his 
 doctrine, and may be undoubtedly traced to a reaction 
 against the formalism of Hegol. Schopenliauer has the 
 merit of being the first philosopher in modern times, if we 
 except some of the French materialists, who is honest 
 enough to refrain from the usual lip-homage to the domi- 
 nant creed. His "Free-thought" is, indeed, in some 
 instance, decidedly aggressive. He steadily reliised to 
 employ theological terminology in a sense misleading even 
 to the " vulgar." He did not, as many would have done, 
 import the term "God" (innocent little word, the friend 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEKBART. 
 
 301- 
 
 in need of speculative time-servers) into his system, 
 well knowing that the notions it implied were foreign 
 thereto. His polemic against Theism extends even to the 
 term "pantheism," which he stigmatises as involving a 
 meaningless use of language. 
 
 For a long time Schopenhauer remained entirely un- 
 recognised. Towards the close of his life, however, a 
 circle of devoted admirers began to form around him. 
 Chief among these were his biographer, Dr. Gwinner, and 
 • his editor and annotator. Dr. Frauenstadt, both enthusiastic 
 disciples. The subsequent development of the pessimist 
 doctrine in Germany, we shall deal with briefly later on. 
 
 HERBART. 
 
 JoHANN Friedrich Herbart was bom May 4th, 1776 at 
 01denbur<s where his father occupied an official position. 
 Originally educated in the Leibnitz-Wolffian school he 
 soon turned to Kant. In 1794, he attended Fichte s 
 lectures at Jena, and at this period he began to write 
 essays criticizing Fichte and Schelling. On leaving the 
 university he entered a Swiss family, as private tutor, 
 about the same time making the acquaintance of the 
 educationalist Pestalozzi, whose theories he warmly cham- 
 pioned. In 1802 Herbart became lecturer in philosophy 
 at the university of Gottingen, where he remained until 
 1809, when Wilhelm von Humbolt procured him the 
 profJssorship of philosophy at Kcinigsberg, just then 
 vacant. In Konigsberg he instituted a "pedagogic 
 seminary which he himself directed. Herbart returned 
 in 1833 to Gottingen as professor, remaining there in 
 uninterrupted activity till his death on August 4th, 
 1841 Ilerbart's works were published after his death, m 
 twelve volumes, by his pupil Hartenstein (Leipzig, 
 1850-52). 
 
m^ 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HERBART. 
 
 oOo 
 
 Herbart's Philosophy. 
 
 Herbart frequently professes to be a follower of Kant, 
 but adds he is a Kantian of the year 1828, who rejects the 
 entire Idealistic side of the critical doctrine. Under these 
 circumstances it is difficult at the first glance to see how 
 he could have retained anything that was distinctive of 
 the system ; nevertheless, the fact remains that he was 
 influenced by KantisiH, although rejecting its salient 
 features. Herbart took his stand on Kant's distinction 
 between phenomena and things-in-themsel ves, between the 
 sense-presentation and the hypothetic cause of the sense- 
 presentation. But while the thing-in-itself, the external 
 cause of the sense-impression, was to Kant unknown, 
 Herbart professed to be able to penetrate the phenomenon 
 and give some account of the producing nounienon. Herbart 
 may thus to a certain extent be regarded as a reaction in 
 favour of the old dogmatism which Kant had expressly 
 combated. All philosophy, according to Herbart, proceeds 
 from a reflection on psychological data. He somewhere 
 calls philosophy " the working out of conceptions," but 
 this working out differs to some extent in method, in the 
 several departments of philosophy. In Logic, which is its 
 veptibule, it is concerned with rendering conceptions clear 
 and distinct which is effected in the judgment. The two 
 first figures of the Syllogism correspond to the positive and 
 negative judgment, and may be cast together under the 
 name of the syllogism of subsumption. The third figure is 
 termed by Herbart the syllogism of substitution, inasmuch 
 as it is only valid where a substitution of tlie minor is 
 admi88il)le. The great result furnished by logic to all the 
 departments of philosophy is the principle of " Identity, 
 contradiction, and excluded middle," in accordance with 
 which, conceptions which are mutually contradictory, must 
 be rejected and their opposite accepted. When wo view 
 conceptions from the side of their content, wo find that they 
 fall under two classes. The conceptions liy virtue of which 
 we comiirehend the "given world form one class, and the 
 conceptions which do not affect the reality of the thing 
 
 ) 
 
 conceived, inasmuch as they are as capable of application 
 to an imaginary, as to a real fact, those, namely, of which 
 Esthetics and Ethics treat, constitute the other class. 
 The working out of the first order of conceptions belongs 
 to metaphysics proper, that of the second to " practical 
 philosophy." The two departments are to be kept rigidly 
 asunder. Metaphysics has nothing to do with Ethics, nor 
 Ethics with Metaphysics. Herbart himself in the presenta- 
 tion of his system, contained in his " Introductory Manual 
 of Philosophy " {Lehrhuch zur Einleitung in die Philosophie), 
 places the practical side of his system before the theoretical 
 — the Ethics before the Metaphysics— but for the con- 
 venience of exposition, we shall in the present sketch 
 follow the usual order in this respect, and give a brief 
 statement of the metaphysics first, more especially as the 
 connection with Kant and the post-Kan tians is more easily 
 seen in this way. Under metaphysic, Herbart, like W olf, 
 includes the whole theoretical side of philosophy. It is 
 easy to see that the influence of his earlier Wolffian train- 
 ing is always uppermost in Herbart. He is essentially a 
 dogmatist with a superficial varnish of criticism. Kant's 
 great service consists to Herbart in the distinction 
 between appearance and thing-in-itself. All appearance 
 points to being, of which it is the appearance. Every 
 distinction in the phenomenon corresponds to a distinc- 
 tion in the thing-in-itself. The problem of philo- 
 sophy is to pierce through the given phenomena to the 
 reality of which it is the sign. Physics deals only with 
 the phenomenon, metaphysics, with the entity which the 
 phenomenon denotes. We are driven to investigate this, 
 inasmuch as the phenomenon as given, is seen on closer 
 inspection to involve a contradiction, and hence, by the 
 laws of thought, we are compelled to resolve this contra- 
 diction in order to make experience intelligil»le. Change, 
 for instance, is given in the phenomenal world ; but change 
 is a self-contradictory conception, as old Zeno had shown ; 
 the problem therefore arises (since, according to Herbart, 
 reality can involve no contradiction), to explain the con- 
 ditions which create for us the appearance of change. 
 Metaphysics, therefore (and be it remembered, Herbart is 
 speaking here of dogmatic metaphysics, that is, of meta- 
 
MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 [Epoch U. 
 
 physics in the pre-Kantian sense of the word) is not to be 
 rejected in the summary manner of the Kantians. but 
 rather to be reformed ; the reformation consisting in the 
 recognition of the fact that it is the science of the integra- 
 tion of empirical conceptions, by which the reality at their 
 basis is distinguished from the illusory form they assume 
 in ordinary consciousness. 
 
 Herbart retains Wolfs division of the science in the 
 main. He terms the first portion, " General Metaphysics," 
 and the second, "Applied Metaphysics." "General 
 Metaphysics" covers Ontology, the special or "Applied 
 Metaphysics," "Philosophy of Nature," (cosmology \ 
 " national Fsychology " and " Kational Theology." The 
 latter, Herbart, in this respect exhibiting his affiliation to 
 Kant, can only attain to from the " practical " standpoint. 
 The first part of the " General Metaphysics " is closely 
 connected with logic. Herbart here expounds his general 
 method. A contradiction occurs when intelligibility 
 and fact do not coincide ; for instance, where two terms 
 are found in combination, which can nevertheless only 
 be conceived in separation. I'his is the case with the 
 connection of cause and efi'ect where the cause, inasmuch 
 as it precedes the efiect, cannot be considered as equivalent 
 to the latter, and on the other hand, inasmuch as it 
 implicitly contains the efiect must be considered as 
 equivalent to it. This contradiction is resolved when the 
 first term, the cause, is conceived as a plurality, which, 
 taken individually, has no resemblance to the second term, 
 the effect, but which, in its totality, produces the effect. 
 What must be conceived, in short, but cannot be conceived 
 as one, must be conceived as many. This Herbart calls 
 the method of relations, and compares it to the reduction of 
 a composite direction of motion to its simple components. 
 
 The second part of "General Metaphysics," the Ontology, 
 opens with a panegyric on Kant for having shown in his 
 refutation of the " ontological argument," that the con- 
 ception of being contains no distinct ichat, but only a that ; 
 in other words, that it is mQie position, apart from all con- 
 tent. Inasmuch as the conception of being as mere position 
 excludes all negation, so the quality of being also excludes 
 all negation, in other words, all distinction of degree, and 
 
 t] 
 
 HERBART. 
 
 305 
 
 Epoch mnge which necessarily implies negation. To have 
 liis was the great merit of the Eleatics and their 
 all ^ssors the Atomists. It is only l)y the assnmjition of 
 se^iultitude of real essences, or as Ilerbart teruis it, a 
 srQiialitative Atoniisiii " that the contradiction involved in 
 *he inlierence of many qualities in one substance can be 
 'resolved. The conception of substance itself is capable of 
 reduction to that of causality. It is only thus that the 
 notion of substance can be rendered intelligible; just as it 
 is only by the relation of cause and etfect that the ordinary 
 mind renders the fact of change intelligible to itself. 
 As we have seen above, the conception of causality itself 
 re(]uires a " working out" (Bearheitunr/), but in tliis process 
 of clarifying conceptions by purging them of the contra- 
 dictions they contain, we must not rest satisfied with the 
 merely phenomenal or }>hysical, but must continue the 
 process until we arrive at the metaphysical — until we 
 discover the processes of the supersensible- real, itself. 
 We liere find that by reason of its absolute simplicity, 
 though no change can take place in the individual essence, 
 yet that this may very easily be the case with the 
 combination of two or more such essences, in each of 
 which a disturbance, and in consequence a resistance, is 
 generated, as is the case with our own mind (the only 
 essence, whose inner proccs^ts can be directly known to 
 us) when we feel a contrast between colours or tones. Since 
 by these disturl)ances and resistances or " acts of self-pre- 
 servation," as Ilerbart terms them, all the phenomena of 
 physics and empirical p.sychology may be explained, they 
 may be regarded as the groundwork of the " philosophy 
 of nature," and of psychology. 
 
 Ilerbart gives the name of Synechology to that portion 
 of his doctrine which refers to space and time and matter. 
 According to this, space is indeed api)earance, though not 
 as Kant imagined, a subjective merely, 1)ut ratlier an 
 olijective appearance, in sucli wise that wliere objective 
 multitude is given unconilnned, l)ut so that it may l>e 
 combined, it must ashutne for every intelligence the form 
 of externality. This intelligible sjiaco of Herbart's is not 
 to be considered as a continuum like the " given "space of 
 the phenomenon. The latter involves a contradiction. 
 
304 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 physics in the pre-Kantian sense of the word) is not to be 
 rejected in the summary manner of the Kantiaus. but 
 rather to be reformed ; the refonnation consisting in the 
 recognition of the fact that it is the science of the integra- 
 tion of empirical conceptions, by which the reality at their 
 basis is distinguished from the illusory form they assume 
 in ordinary consciousness. 
 
 Herbart retains Wolfs division of the science m the 
 main. He terms the first portion, " General Metaphysics," 
 and the second, "Applied Metaphysics." "General 
 Metaphysics " covers Ontology, the special or " Apphed 
 Metaphysics," "Philosophy of Nature," (cosmology), 
 " Kational Psychology " and " Rational Theology." ^ The 
 latter, Herbart, in this respect exhibiting his affihation to 
 Kant, can only attain to from the " practical " standpoint. 
 The first part of the " General Metaphysics " is closely 
 connected with logic. Herbart here expounds his general 
 method. A contradiction occurs when intelligibility 
 and fact do not coincide ; for instance, where two terms 
 are found in combination, which can nevertheless only 
 be conceived in separation. This is the case with the 
 connection of cause and effect where the cause, inasmuch 
 as it precedes the effect, cannot be considered as equivalent 
 to the latter, and on the other hand, inasmuch as it 
 implicitly contains the effect must be considered as 
 equivalent to it. This contradiction is resolved when the 
 first term, the cause, is conceived as a plurality, which, 
 taken individually, has no resemblance to the second term, 
 the effect, but which, in its totality, produces the effect. 
 WhatmM«« be conceived, in short, but cannot be conceived 
 as one, must be conceived as many. This Herbart calls 
 the method of relations, and compares it to the reduction of 
 a composite direction of motion to its simple components. 
 
 The second part of "General Metaphysics," the Ontology, 
 opens with a panegyric on Kant for having shown in his 
 refutation of the " ontological argument," that the con- 
 ception of being contains no distinct ichat, but only a tliat ; 
 in other words, that it is mere position, apart from all con- 
 tent. Inasmuch as the conception of being as mere position 
 excludes all negation, so the quality of being also excludes 
 all negation, in other words, all distinction of degree, and 
 
 1] 
 
 HERBART. 
 
 305 
 
 Epoch jinge which necessarily implies negation. To have 
 ^lis was the great merit of the Eleatics and their 
 all #ssors the Atomists. It is only by the assumption of 
 se^iiiltitude of real essences, or as Herbart teiius it, a 
 svQiialirative Atomism " that the contradiction involved in 
 Jthe inherence of many qualities in one substance can be 
 'resolved. The conception of substance itself is capable of 
 reduction to that of causality. It is only thus that the 
 notion of substance can be rendered intelligible; just as it 
 is only by the relation of cause and etfect that the ordinary 
 iniud renders the fact of change intelligible to itself. 
 As we have seen above, the conception of causality itself 
 re(|uires a " working out " (Bearheitung), but in this process 
 of clarifying conceptions by purging them of the contra- 
 dictions they contain, we must not rest satisfied with the 
 merely x)henomenal or ]>h}sical, but must continue the 
 process until we arrive at the metaphysical — until we 
 discover the processes of the supersensible-real, itself. 
 We here find that by reason of its absolute simplicity, 
 though no change can take place in the individual essence, 
 yet that this may very easily be the case with the 
 combination of two or more such essences, in each of 
 which a disturbance, and in consequence a resistance, is 
 generated, as is the case with our own mind (the only 
 essence, whose inner processes can be directly known to 
 us) when we feel a contrast between colours or tones. Since 
 by these disturbances and resistances or " acts of self-pre- 
 servatiim," as Herbart terms them, all the jihenomena of 
 physics and empirical [jsycliology may be explained, they 
 may be regarded as the groundwork of the " philosophy 
 of nature," and of psychology. 
 
 Herbart gives the name of Synechology to that portion 
 of his doctrine which refers to space and time and matter. 
 According to this, space is indeed api)earanee, though not 
 as Kant imagined, a subjective merely, l)ut rather an 
 objective appearance, in such wise that where objective 
 multitude is given uncoml)ined, l:)ut bo that it may be 
 combined, it must assume for every intelligence the lorm 
 of externality. This intelligible space of Herbart's is nut 
 to be considered as a continuum like the " given "space of 
 the phenomenon. The latter involves a contradiction. 
 
30G 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [fJ 
 
 tor the extende.l . -bject covers many diflferent poriWii 11. 
 Bpace lying outside one another, and .X^^^ "' ;'^\ , 
 thoTiL^i thcf one is severed into many it is .till t^'^'"!.^/^ 
 one. In intennion the same contradiction nvpi-ais a^on 
 extension. In conceiving; matter, we be-m a divisi. as 
 wliich we must carry on to inlinity.heeaxise . v.^y vorti in 
 has to he conceixed as extended. Each of the dnnensi(>ui 
 of real or intelligible space is a rigid line ditleringi 
 rtmmling to the sum of its tangrnts. Htrl^rt expound^ 
 this idea^n geometrical i»rincipie8 with a lulness charac-l 
 terisiic of him in matters inatheinatical, into ^viucin 
 exposition we need not enter. As with space so with 
 thne; it consists in a sum of points ut succession. 
 It appears a continuum b. cause at th( '•'"«« ^^ ^»^' 
 series of changes anr-ther immediately begins. Iho con- 
 iunction of causality with space and time, j^ives us the 
 data for the explanation of matter the attraction and 
 lepnlsion api.arently inherent in which must not be 
 re-arded as existent forces, but merely as the appearance 
 resulting from the primary combination oi real ess^ences— 
 a view which obviates the al»suril assumption of action 
 at a distance. Since space is merely an accident ot real 
 entity, it follows that real essences are not necessarily 
 mibiJct to space-relations, and therein .re that that which 
 rei.uires explanation is not so much UK.tmn, as rest, namely 
 the particular case, from out of an mhnite |.ossi bility ot 
 cases, in which velocity = 0. Ilerbart seeks to deduce the 
 phenomena of chemistry and physics Irom i.;ur cases ot 
 Ihe opposition of elements. These may be eitlier strong 
 and eiiual, strong and unequal, weak and eiiual, or weak 
 
 and unequal. i i „, 
 
 The Eid<do«-v is, as it were, the vestibule of 1 .^ycholog>, 
 as Svnechology is of Cosmology. The conci pt um of the 
 Eoo'involves the contradiction ..f the mlierenw id the many 
 iirtheone, a circumstance especially noticeable in this case, 
 inasmuch as 8elf-consciousne>s presenis the hgo in perce].- 
 tion as a complete unity. Furthermore, it is a c. .ntradiction, 
 since the knowledge of tlie kin^v ing subi- t seems to 
 demand in its turn a knowledge of this knowledge, aiul so 
 on to infinity; again, there is a formal contradiction also 
 involved iu the identity of tlie Ego as ol)ject with the Lgo 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HERBART. 
 
 307 
 
 as subject ; this seeming identity remains therefore to be 
 exjdained. The soul, in common with everything real (in 
 Ilerbart's sense), is an absolutely simple and indestructible 
 entity, and hence cannot be the substratum of a ]»lnrality 
 of faculties. Its quality is like that of every other entity, 
 unknown, although, as above ol>served, it is the only 
 entity of which we can know immediately the internal 
 processes, namely tho>e disturbances and resistances or 
 ** acts of self-preservation," wliich give lise to sense- 
 presentation. A thorough investigation <^f tlie nature of 
 the soul necessarily be^^ins with the |)rimitive impressions 
 of sound, C(dour, &c. The fact that these are quanti- 
 tatively distinct, and that "acts of self-preservation " since 
 they are positive cannot destroy, but only limit one 
 another, shows that these latter must be subject to a 
 mathematical regularity, a regularity already aeknow- 
 ledged in one class of these reciprocal limitations, namely, 
 the harmony of musical tones. Ilerbart therefore claims a 
 mathematical treatment for the investigation. Tlie clue 
 to the whole suboequent exposition is contained in 
 the sentence "every limited perception persists in tlie 
 soul, as an effort to perceive." This justifies, in the 
 opinion of Ilerbart, an analogy with the laws of elastic 
 bodies, and, other things being equal, even the assumption 
 of the validity of the same laws in Psychology. In 
 accordance with this, a " static of the mind " is furnished 
 in which the equilibrium of perceiitions is dis<ussed. 
 Ilerbart teims the sum of limitation the quantum of per- 
 ceiving Contained in two e(jmbined ]>resentment8. That 
 which is not limited, or converted into effort, is termed the 
 " perceptive remnant," a mathematical calculation demon- 
 strating that no single perception, however stnjng, suffices 
 completely to displace another, to etl'ect whicli it rcMiuires 
 at least two such iKrceptions. The })oint which constitu ts 
 the boundary between entity, as striving or effort, and as 
 conscious ])ercei)tion, is termed the "threshold of con- 
 sciousness." The union of }>erce].tions of different classes, 
 as, for instance, sound and meaning in the spoken word, 
 Herbart terms eomjAicatiou ; the union of those of the 
 same class, hlendiwj. In the " mechanic of the mind,'* 
 Ilerbart considers the movement of perceptions, their 
 
 X 2 
 
308 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch U, 
 
 milking and rising, memory, association, &c., in tlie guise 
 
 of the same matheinaticjil formulie as before. 
 
 In the analytical part of his I'syeliolojry he endeavours 
 to show how all given psychological plieuomena may 1)0 
 explained by the formiihe without recourse to the hypo- 
 thesis uf special faculties. It i> >< arcely necessary tu say 
 that for Herbart the distinction tetween the empirical and 
 the pure Ego does not exist. For him, the mind, the 
 psych oh »gical object, is the only iact standing in need 
 of explanation. Ilerltart, on the ground of liis onto- 
 logy, notwithstanding, protests against psychology being 
 confounded with metaphysic or logic. All facts have a 
 ps} chological side, but this by no means exhausts their 
 whole significance. The confusion of the empirical or 
 psychological space, which is a contltmuM, with the intelli- 
 gii)le space, which is an iuferrttptum, was, in llerbait's 
 opinion, one of the greatest errors into which Kant fell. The 
 B^me applies to time as to si>acc. As to the categories, 
 when correctly viewed they are seen tu coincide with the 
 forms of language, and a coniitlete system of them presup- 
 poses a universal grammar. 
 
 iEsthetics is the science treating of that which pleases 
 on account of its beauty apart from any ulterior reason. 
 It has thereftjre to be distinguished from the desirable 
 and the pleasant, lx)th of which have reference to a sub- 
 jective inteiest; after tliis, the problem, lioro as in every 
 other department, is to resolve the beautiful as given, 
 into its simplest elements. Such an analysis A\ill show 
 us that these elements consist not of entities Imt of 
 ielati<ms; the problem therefore becomes, to exlHl)it the 
 simplest relations which can call forth a disinterested 
 sense of |ileasnre. Tliis has, as yet, only been done 
 in one of the arts, namely, ]\Iusic. What the theory of 
 hainiony and thorough-bass does for Munic, remains 
 a desidetatum as regartls the other Arts. Ethics itself 
 may be regarticd as a branch of iEsthetics. In Ethics 
 we have to exhil)it tlio siuiplest relations of will, or 
 combinations of motivis which produce the sense of 
 moral lieauty. To ask why such nu^tives please and their 
 contraries disj)lease, is as absurd as to ask why one chord 
 is agrreeable to the ear and another nut? That these re- 
 
 Epoch IL] 
 
 HERBAKT. 
 
 809 
 
 lations, which may be termed sauiple-conceptions, or Ideas, 
 are unconditionally valid, Kant felt, and he is much to be 
 blamed for having mixed them up with meta}>h3'sical 
 notions, sucli as imcer and being, with which they have 
 no connection, lleibart is especially severe on Kant's 
 " Transcendental Fieedom," an assumption on wliich 
 neither punishment nor education can be explained, since 
 they both presuppose actions to be the necessar}^ results 
 of character. Duties may be divided into such as concern 
 oneself, such as concern soc'ctv, and finally such as 
 concern the future of both the individual and society. 
 
 There are two points in which the theoretical and 
 practical sides of pliilosuphy meet, and the consiileratiou 
 of which pre-suj)] oses a knowledge of both de[>artments. 
 The combination of " practical philosr»phy " and '' philo- 
 s 'i)liy of nature," furnishes the "theory of relipon ; " 
 their combination with Psychology the "theory of 
 pedagogic." The former Ilerltart did not systematically 
 work out, and liis utterances respecting it are conveyed 
 in a somewliat detached form. I'edagogic, or the theory 
 of Education, is liis great subject outside jiliilosophy 
 proi>er. Its end is of course the moulding of tiie moral 
 character. Freewill and Fat ilist theories are alike to be 
 I'eje ted. Tlic practical idras and the psychological 
 certainty of the action and reaction of particular per- 
 ceptions are a true guide for the teacher. Kegulation and 
 teaching should bo eond)ined. The object of both is 
 training, i.e. to give strength to the moral character and to 
 enable the pupil in the < nd to undertake his own education. 
 Herbart sees in Politics merelv an extended I'tHlaj^j-Oii-ic. 
 Political furms are for liim of little account. His sheet- 
 anclior is tlie individual cliaracter. 
 
 Thougli it is not to be denied that there are suggestive 
 passages and some clever and just criticisms in llerl mart's 
 writings, yet as a system liis phih^sopliy may not unfairly 
 be described as a grotesque abortion. Its matliematical 
 dress has alone saved it from olilivion. An adei)t mathe- 
 matician can always present an idea in a shape to 
 Command the .I't'iition of the learned world i]Tes|)ective 
 of its intrinsic value. The attraction a niathematic 
 mode of treatiiicnt possesses for the modern "cultured' 
 
310 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [ErocH 11. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 311 
 
 mind is irresistible, and operates quite indf poiidently of 
 any consideration as to the suscei.til.ility of the given 
 Hiibjeet-iimtter to such a treatment. To wrap a theory up 
 skiifullv in mathematical formn he, though in itself it may 
 bf the' baldest nonsense, is the surest passport in the 
 present day to acquiring the reputation of a ''serious 
 thinker." Herbart is in this happy position.^ Although 
 he commits all the errors against which Kant's 'Critique' 
 was directed, although he is essentially a pre-Kantian m 
 his construction, yet the magical charm of liis mathematics 
 has sufficed to give him a place in the history of specula- 
 tive thought he certainly would not otlierwise possess. 
 Herbart left behind him a school to which the editor of 
 his completed works, Hartenstein (also the editor of the 
 well-known edition of Kant's works bearing his name), 
 belonged. 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 Georg Wilhelm Friedpjch Hegel was bom at Stuttgart, 
 Aii<'ust 27th, 1770. His father was an officer in the tiscal 
 service ; his mother, whom he lost in his thirteenth year, 
 seems to liave Ijcen a woman of some litthj education, and 
 of more than ordinary intelligence. He studied at the 
 University of Ttilungen, Ijoth in the philosophieal and 
 theological faculties. ' As a student he was the author of 
 one oi"two essays on pliihjsoi.hical sultjects, and he also 
 publicly detende^l two dissertations. His private reading 
 during this i)criod, of the works of Kant, Jacobi, and 
 other "pldlosophers, in addiiiim to those of Herder, Lessing 
 and Schiller, seems to have powerfully intiuenced him. 
 Besides this, he carried (»n at tlie same time with much 
 enthusiasm his studies in Greek literature and history. 
 
 Like Fichte and Herbart, on leaving the university 
 he took a position as i)rivate tutor, and to make the 
 parallel more complete, in Switzerland (at Berne). 'J'his 
 did not hinder his own studies, which he zealously followed 
 up, eniragiug at the same time in a correspondence with 
 
 
 Schelling who was still studying at Tiil)ingen. Curiously 
 enough, liis first important work was a "Life of Jesus,'* 
 which was iKisril on the distiuetion already insisted upon 
 by Lessing, between the d(»etriiies of the founder of Chris- 
 tianity and th<' dogmas of the Church. The influence of the 
 AufklariuKj was, however, strong in Hegel at this time, the 
 special form it took lieing that of Hellenism. In 1797 he 
 entered upon a similar jtosition to that whieh he had held 
 at Berne, at Frankfort-on-the-]\raine; but Hegel was irre- 
 sistibly drawn to Jena, the philosophical metropolis, 
 whither he repaired in January 1801. It was liere that 
 his thouglits liegan to assume a systematic form, though 
 he deemed liimself at tliis time, in the main, a follower of 
 his younger eonteuiporary Schelling, with whom he subse- 
 qut.-ntly worked in common, for the spread of the "System 
 of Identity," on tlie Kritische Journal tier Philosophies to 
 which he contributed most of the articles. 
 
 The diffi.*renees between the two thinkers soon became 
 api)arent on the departure of Schelling from Jena, and 
 with the production of Hegel's first great work, 'The 
 Phenomenoh»gy of the Mind' (Phanomenolofjie des Geisfes)^ 
 in 1806, the wide divergence in their intellecttial capacities 
 became o1)vious. In consequence of the Napoleonic Avar 
 then raging, Hegel left Jena soon after this, and became 
 editor of the Bamberger Zeitum/, a post he subse(]uently 
 threw u}> for the directorship of a public school at Niirn- 
 berg. He remained here until the year 1816, and here, 
 among other works, his great " Logic " was written. In 
 the autumn of 1816 Hegel entered the cliair of i»liilosophy 
 at Heidell)erg, just vacated by 1^'ries. During his stay at 
 Heidelberg he wrote his 'Encyclopedia of the Philoso- 
 phical Sciences.' Finally, on October 22nd, 1818, Hegel 
 became professor in Berlin. During the Berlin period, the 
 only large work comjdeted l»y him was ' The Elements 
 of the riiilost)}»liy of Kight ' (Grmidlinien der Philomphie 
 des Bechts). His disciples, however, after his deatli, 
 publisheil tlie li'ctures delivereil during this time on the 
 Philosophy of History, Art, and Keligicjn, as well as on 
 the History of Philosopliy. Hegel died at Berlin, of 
 cholera, ou tlie 14th of November, 1831. 
 
 The life of Hegel was written by his disciple Eosen- 
 
312 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Erocii II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 313 
 
 kraiiz. His completi' wtuks (including the lectures) 
 occu2>y eiglitt'cn vuluiiies. 
 
 The Hegellix System. 
 
 We now take up a*i:ain the <lir«(t line of thouglit 
 represented l)y Kant, Fielite, ami Selielling, a line which 
 culminates in Uu- j^reat tliinker whose name heads tliis 
 section. Tli<- >\ >tem of Ile^-el ma}' he Ix'st deseriht-d as 
 Fanlogism. The Keal « »r ( *<»iicj-ete is notliing 1>ut a synthesis 
 of relati(tns, each of which, taken liy itself, and apart from 
 the whole into which it enters, is abstract, and therefore 
 unreal. The ultimate principle <d' all knuwh'dge is of 
 course the pure form of the unity of the consciousness, the 
 " Synthetic Unity of Apperception " of Kant, the " Pure 
 Ego" of Fichte. Tins is the "Concept" (Ber/nff) of 
 Hegel. But the synthesis so stated, that is, l>y its'elf, is 
 formal ; it is a unity of thoiiglit, of consciousness as such, 
 and (.f nothing else but thought or consciousness. But 
 thought or consciousness is in its nature relative. Think- 
 ing or knowing implies a striking-«jut of relations, a fixing 
 of contrasts, a limitation of a conscious state, wliieli is in 
 its turn notliing hut tlie limitation of another conscious 
 state, and so on to infinity. But the infinity is not that of 
 an infinitely produced straight line ( to em]il( 'V an analogy), 
 l)Ut rather tliat of tlie circle ; or, better still, of the spiral. 
 Th<' Toiicn'te or th<' IJcal which is Experience-in-general, 
 is the system of all possible moiiienta or determinations 
 of knowledge, thought, or <(.!i>ciousness. This system, 
 which enilmices all p( issible oppositions and antagonisms, 
 considered as a w iiole, is tlie Lotjos or Idee in its reality, the 
 " Concrete Idea," as Hegel terms it. Considered al»stractly, 
 the "Idea" is the formal unity s})oken of above, which 
 embraces all diilerences, which maintains itself in all tliese 
 difierences, and which is their final principle of expht nation. 
 We need hardly rejjcat \\ hat we ha\e already sai«l when 
 treating of Fichte, namely, that this unity, inasmuch as 
 the determinations of thought all and severally presuppose 
 it, can never become itself an ol)ject, or, which is the same 
 thing, a determination of thouglit— that is to say, it can 
 never enter the sphere of the empirical consciousness. 
 
 Em})iricismand Scepticism in pliilosophy, in undermining 
 the distinctions of tlie ordinary conscioiiMn>s, and of the 
 philosopliy whicli takes its immediate stand ujion it, ]>avcs 
 the way for tlie true synthetic view. Tlius Scepticism 
 shows that on the ordinary crude dmdistic assumption of 
 the absolute independence of snbj«'et and object, mind and 
 matter, pereciver and ]>rreeivcd, knowh-d^c would be im- 
 possible, it forces us tliercfore to reconsider tlie jtrelimi- 
 nary assum]>tion Avliieh we have hitherto received as an 
 uuipiestionable truth. The same Avith every fixed dis- 
 tincti<m, great and small, important and unimp(>rtant ; 
 every such distinction Avdl be found on examination, when 
 consistently carried out, to refute itself^tliat is, to contain 
 the germ of its own destruction or negation, or, as Hegel 
 has it, its own "internal dialectic." 
 
 In the wonl Dialectic wc liaAc the key to the whole 
 Hegelian system. The method of Ibgel is the dialectical 
 method, and to have discovered the full significance of this 
 metliod, to have struck u]ion the innermost dynamic prin- 
 ciple of tlie world, gives to Ilegel a ]>re-eminence in a sense 
 alK.vc all other thinkers. Heraklcitos of I'^plhsns caught 
 a glim]>se of the principle when lie said, "all things flow,'* 
 and " there is nothing that comes into being butit fortliwith 
 ceases to be." Zeiio <jf Elea also canglit siglit of it when 
 he sought to convince the ordinary man, who could not 
 conceive of a world bas((l on contradictinii, of the truth of 
 Parmenides' doctrines, by jJacing him in tlie dilemma of 
 eitlier admitting the sense-world to be contratlictory, or 
 (lenying its existence altogether, not d<.n])ting but that ho 
 would ace. pt the latter alt'Tiiativc. The Sojihists and 
 Soknites saw in it respectively, tiie former the destructie»n 
 of all certitude, and tlie latter, a new means for the attain- 
 ment <'f truth f]-om the very fact of its ].otency in under- 
 mining the would-be certitU'les of current opinion. In 
 I*lato, the iirincijile obtained its fullest recognition in the 
 ancient world. Plato's philosophy is essentially an exhi- 
 bition of tlie diah'ctic immanent in all knowledge. Aris- 
 totle, although the geiieial bearing (.f his mind might be 
 snp])os<'d to t«'nd in a different direction, nevertlieless 
 places it in the fore-front (.f Jiis system in his distinction 
 of matter and form, and his recognition of all reality as the 
 
 K 
 
314 
 
 MODERN FIIILC )S( )PII Y. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 / 
 
 syntliosis of matter and form. In all periods, when the 
 two great tliinker8 of antiquity liavo held a foremost place 
 in the hi|L;her th«>iij:;lit cf the world — p<'ri(Hls, for instjiiice, 
 Kuch as that of the decline of ancient philosophy and of 
 scholasticism — it has never been left (piite out of view 
 however much obscured; but from Descartes a,n<l Bact.u 
 to Kant it had ]»ractieally lapsed into oblivion. In Kant's 
 c( Transcendental Analytic " and " Transcendental Dialectic/* 
 it ai;ain appears, though overlaid with much extraneous 
 iiiaterial. In Ficlite it receives a fairly definite exjtres- 
 sion ; but it was reserved for Kegel to recognise its full 
 bearing as the principle of knowledge, and the method of 
 philosopliic investigati* )n. Among poets, Goethe has 
 best caught tlio beat of the world-rhytlim when he makes 
 the Erdgeist in Faust exclaim 
 
 " In Being's flwils, in Action's storm 
 I walk ami work, alKtve heneafli, 
 Work and weave in endless motion I 
 Birth and Death 
 All intinitc! ocean, 
 A seizing and giving 
 The tire of Living: 
 'Tia tims at the roaring Loom of Time I ply. 
 And weave for God tlie Garment thou seest Him by." 
 
 Hegel claims for his system that all antitheses, all oppo- 
 sing principles, that have ever held swfiy in pliilosoidiy, 
 are therein at once recognised and transcended, that is, 
 sliown to be necessary, but incomplete, tjiken l)y them- 
 eelves. The first eomlition ( )f philosophising, as observed 
 in connection witli Plato, is to lift ourselves above the 
 immediate — tlu' //rn, tlie ilm, and the now of things. All 
 intellectual life is more or less an rtlbrt to break away 
 from immediate aii[iearances and immediate interests. 
 Kant has said with truth tliat tlie Ptolemaic system of 
 Astronomy is tlie one naturally most iutelligilde to us, not 
 because it is sinqdt -r than the Copernican system, but 
 because, in sjtite » >f eonfusedness and clumsiness, it accounts 
 for astronomical phenomena on the hy]»othesis of all 
 things revolving round ourselves, viz. our Earth. The 
 superior simplicity and order of the Copernican system did, 
 Botwithstaniling, in the long run win the victory over 
 
 ErocH II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 315 
 
 common -sense consecrated by tradition. The anthropo- 
 morphism and myth of primitive man is an expression 
 of till* difiieulty man ex]ieriences in divesting his view of 
 things oi" tlic influence of his immediate surroundings as he 
 conetives them to a fleet his interests. 
 
 There is notliing wliieh presupposes such a revolution 
 in our mental life as the ability to A'iew the world from 
 the synthetic or speculative [xdnt of view— as a dialectical 
 movement. All accust( tnied lial tits of thought, all the fixed 
 distinctions in which the intellectual wealth of theavera2:e 
 man consists, liavc to be ruthlessly cast into the caldron 
 of an all-consuming Logic. Their hard outlines then 
 begin to alter sliajie, and finally to lose shape entirely, as 
 tliey becc^me mixed in a seething mass where one distinc- 
 tion bbiuls iiit(j its o}»posite, the whole acquiring for a 
 moment a new shape only in its turn to give ])lace to 
 another, and yet another. " So strong," says Hegel, siieak- 
 ing of the exposition of his system, " is the sense of the 
 opiinsition of true and false, that it has accustomed men 
 to exjiect either agreement with, or contradiction of, some 
 existing philosophical system, and, in explaining such, 
 only to see this or that." If we clarify our conceptions of 
 truth and falsehood — that is, subject them to the purifying 
 fire e>f dialectic — we shall see that tliey change their con- 
 tent with our ])oint of view, that their content is not fixed, 
 l)ut fluid. " llie l)ud vanishes with the appearance of the 
 blossom, and one may say that the one is contradicted 
 by the other ; the fruit jigain proclaims tho Idossom a 
 spurious form of the jjlant's existence, the truth of the 
 one passes over to tlie other. These forms are not merely 
 distinct, but crush each other out as being mutually 
 incom]>atible. l>ut their fluid nature constitutes them 
 none tlu- less momenta of tliat organic unity wherein they 
 not alone ecase to conflict, but to which one is as necessary 
 as the other, which ecpial necessity makes the life of the 
 whole." 
 
 The Hegelian dialectic is based on the recognition of 
 identity in dilierenee, of the fact that all aflirmation 
 implies negatitni, all negation afhrmation. In all things 
 there is a ea])acity unrealised, and a capacity realised; 
 the first is the iiuitoud moment, the second the formal 
 
S16 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 moment. The acorn is tlie unrealised capacity of the oak, 
 it is realised as oak. The realisation of the capacity of a 
 thin ir is the ney;ation of that thina; as actually existent. 
 
 The jHissibility (tr capacity present in the child is ifalisud 
 in tlio man, >»ut manhood is the negation of ehildli(M«l — 
 child qua eliild vanishes in the man, he exists no lonuvr, 
 any more than tliough he were dt-ad. Every step in the 
 growtli ur progress of the child is a step towards tlie 
 negjition of childhood. Again, animal lilV* exists only Ijy 
 virtue of the continuous destruction or dtcfuiniosition of 
 the tissues of which it is actually composed. Arrest this 
 process of destruction <ir negation, and the animal dies. 
 The fatal eifect of many of the mineral jtoisons is simjjly 
 due to their action in stoi)[)ing the natural process of the 
 destruction of the organic tissues, a jirocess whicli is 
 essential to animal life. Animal Hie presupposes organic 
 life ; but the latter is, as Hegel wuidd term it, the netjati'^e 
 moment of the l(»rmer— it is the means only, and 
 not the end. I'he animal lil'e can only realise ur main- 
 tain itself in and through tlie negation of the nega- 
 tive moment; in other words, the continuous destruc- 
 tion of the iiigaiiic matter (tha tissue) is essential tt) the 
 reality of tlie animal /orw (the living body). This 
 dialectic runs thr«)Ugli ail things ; it is the ultimate ex- 
 inession of all reality, and it may bo disco \e red Ijy 
 analysis on every plane of reality. Its recognition cannot 
 fail to give us a comiiletely new view of tiie world-order. 
 Our ultimate aim in every science will be henceforward 
 to discover the course of its dialectic, or rather the 
 dialectic of its snbject-matter, since this is th*' key to its 
 mysteries. I'hc signiticance of formal logi<- ^\■ith its laws 
 of thought will Ije seen to disa})pear wlien experience is 
 viewed from this rnore comjirehensive stand {Hjint. iSo I'ar 
 from its being tlie case, as the law uf contradiction asserts, 
 tliat a thing cannot Itotli l»e and n<tt be, we now know 
 that, in a sens*-, everything is, and at the same time is not, 
 in set far as it ex}>ress(*s a determinate reality at all — oynnia 
 determuKitlu est majatio. binee lealitv, /.''. liie .synthesis of 
 experience, consists alone in the union of contradictories, 
 it necessarily follows that for experience, 1* a- consciousness, 
 pure aiiirmation is precisely on a level with pure negation 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 317 
 
 since they are alike unreal and meaningless. This is all 
 Hegel intends ly the, at first sight, astounding proposition 
 with which his' Logic opens, that "being and non-being 
 are the same." 
 
 In his first great work, the 'Phenomenology of the 
 Mind,' Hegel traces the natural development of the 
 human mind from the naive consciousness of the ordinary 
 man to the synthetic stand[)oint of philosophy. The 
 ' Plienomenology ' is in fact a kind of i)hilosophical 
 * Pilgrim's l*rogress.' " Inasmuch," says Hegel, " as this 
 exi)osition only has i>henomenal knowledge for its subject, 
 it d«»es not exliibit the free movement of knowledge in its 
 scientific form, and must rather be regarded from the 
 present standpoint as the course the natural consciousness 
 takes in its progress towards true knowledge, as the 
 pathway of the soul, [massing tli rough the series of forms 
 which its nature prescril)es as so many stages of self- 
 purification, until it attains through a complete expe- 
 rience of itself, to a knowleilge of that which it is in 
 itself" {Fhanomen(d<>(jic\ Einldtmij, p. Gl). 
 
 Tlie immediate form of our knowledge is the object as 
 heiiKj or existent thing. In this we occupy a i)assive atti- 
 tude, the attitude of naive sense-perception. In this first 
 attitude of consciousness reality seems to be known in its 
 simi)lest and jiurest form. All that knowledge here tells 
 us is of the bare existence of the thing. The ol ject is 
 ])resentcd, as this thing here and now. The word this 
 itself simply means exist<3nce here and now. Put what is 
 nnti' ! " Let lis say, for instance, iww it is night. To our 
 immediate consciousness this is a truth. AVe note it down 
 as a truth. At noonday we look upon this ci-devant 
 truth, and lo, it is a meaningless and pal^ialde absurdity I " 
 Tln' ifoir, notwithstanding, remains, ]»ut with a totally 
 change<l <-ontent. It proves itself to be what Hegel 
 terms a '^ universal negative." Tlie same remarks apply to 
 the otlier form of the this, namely, the here. " ILrc is, for 
 instance, a tree. I turn myself round, and this truth has 
 vanislied — has transformed itself into its oi)posite. Here 
 is not a tree, l»ut ratlier a liouse. Tlie here does not 
 vanisli, but it is that which remains in the disa|)pearanco 
 of the house, the tree, and so forth, and is inditierently 
 
318 
 
 MODERN PHILOSorilY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 house or tree" (P/jri»ioweno%/V, p. 74). "Pure lieing " 
 is of the essence of this percei.tive consciousness; for 
 pure heiiig is its immediateness as alistract form. A C(ini- 
 parison between the relation of knuwkMlge to its oliject, 
 as it ininiediately i)resents itself, with tlic same relation 
 aftiT it has been acted upon by reflecti( .n, sliows a eoiisi- 
 dcrable ditference. The universal element, which seemed 
 to Ijelong to the lieinf!; of the object, is now seen to lie in 
 our knowledf-'e of the object. The percei)tive certainty 
 is seen t<> sul»sist not in the oliject, but in us. Tlie now 
 and hre is preserved in tlie Ego. " AVhat d(»cs not 
 vanish is the I, as universal, wliose seein.i;- is neither a 
 seeing of the tiee nor the house, but a simple seeing, which 
 is l>r.)nght aliont by the negation of tliis liouse, and so 
 forth, which is absolutely indiiferent to anything outside 
 itself, alike to the house and the tree." Thus Hegel licgins 
 his * Phenomenology,' l)y showing the contradiction of 
 the empirical consciousness with its own prepossessions, 
 to lead u[» through the discussion of the scientific con- 
 sciousness, the llnderetanding— in which the al^stract 
 procedure implicit in "common sense," or the ordinary 
 consciousness, becomes explicitly Ibrmnlated— to the i)hilo- 
 sophical consciousness, the Keason, wliicli scis the true 
 significance of these various standpoints as parts of an 
 organic whole, as related elements of a synthesis. This 
 is the ladder whicli, according to Hegel, tlie ordinary con- 
 sciousness has a right to demand, to lead ir to tin- absolute 
 knowledge of itself. The task of the ' i*iienonien<. logy ' 
 is thus to show the progress of knowledge from its lowest 
 to its highest stage ; each stage is iii its turn shown to 
 involve a contradiction, which necessitates ].rogress to a 
 a higher stage. At each of these stages the immediate 
 certitude or truth of the stage is ]u-ovcd to be illusory, to 
 involve a self-deception. This is corrected in tlie following 
 stage, the certitude is changed, in its turn to be subjected 
 to the same in'ocess, until all these staji'e^ aie seen to lie 
 inadequate in themselves, and to p. meaning and 
 
 Bignifieanee oidy when regarded as the necessary mi.menta, 
 not of this or that iiarticular limited or individual 
 consci( )usm vs, l»ut of eonsciousness conceived as one abso- 
 lute all-embi acing totality— /16so/i(<e GeisL 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 319 
 
 Hegel's dialectic, we must again repeat, is simply the 
 perfecting, as regards its form of Fichte's dialectic. Fichte 
 had sli<>wn that the in-itselfness of the one plane of con- 
 sciousness, was the for-itselfness of the next jdane. Hegel, 
 however, Inings out into clear relief a point on which 
 Fichte was somewhat dul>ious (but which Plato and 
 Aristotle had recognised), to wit, that the negation of the 
 opposite is not absolute, but is rather double-sided — that is, 
 that the opposite or preceding moment is no less j)reserved 
 than abolished in the succeeding moment. HegeFs aim is 
 to show that the mind is logically com])elled, on pain of 
 its own reducfio ad ahsunhim, to force its way on and on 
 until it arrives at the standpoint of a1»solute knowledge. 
 The six stages Avhich the mind has to ]»ass through in its 
 progress to al)Solute knowledge are from consciousness t<j 
 self-consciousness, thence to the scientific understanding 
 "the law making and law -finding reason," in tlie words of 
 Hegel, thence to tlie moral consciousness (Geist), thence to 
 the aesthetic and religious consciousness, and thence to the 
 consciousness of knowledge as absolute. Put the world- 
 mind, as exhibited on the plane of History, is, etjually w^ith 
 the in<lividual mind, under the necessity, by virtue of its 
 constitution, of passing through the same stages. The 
 * Phenomenology ' shows therefore the stages that liumanity 
 has had to pass through, and which the individual must also 
 pass through, before it can attain to aljsclute knowledge. 
 Knowledge or science in the Hegelian sense consists in tlie 
 re-reading of experience, in the comjjreliendiwj of experience 
 in the fullest sense of the word. 
 
 Before we leave the * Fhenoraenology,' the reader may 
 not take it amiss if we give a few extracts illustrative of 
 the style of this, in some respects, greatest work of Hegel. 
 Such extracts, of course, can give but a Vv.ry imperfect 
 idea of the wliolo to which they belong, as may be 
 readily imagined from the nature of Hegel's tliought. 
 The impossiliility, moreover, of rendering many jiassages 
 adequately in another language, is generally admitted. 
 In the preface (Phanomeiioh>gie, p. 15) Hegel oliserves, 
 " Tlie truth is the whole. But the wh(de is tlie essence 
 wliich conii>letes itself in its develo]»ment. It may be 
 said of the Absolute that it is essentially result^ that not 
 
320 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOrHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 321 
 
 before the end is it that which it is in tnith : and lierein 
 consists its nature, that of Leing lit-ality, Subject, < )r Self- 
 becoming. However absurd h may aii]»ear to reg-ard the 
 Absolute as in essence, result, a very little consideration 
 will correct this appearance of absurdity. Tlio l»eginiiing, 
 the principle or the Absolute, as it is prinuuily and im- 
 mediately .spoken of, is only the universal. Just as little 
 as when I say all animals, these words can stand in the 
 place of a Zijology, can the words 1 )iviiie, Absolute, 
 Eternal, vtc, express that which is net eontaint'd in tlieni. 
 It is true that only sueli words can express the intuition 
 in its immediate form; but this is not all; a word which 
 is only a passage to a jiroiiosition contains within it an 
 otherness of becoming which has to be retraced ; it is a 
 mediation ( Vermittlumj).'' 
 
 The Absolute, although it contains within it tlie syn- 
 thesis of all contradictions, considered as Absolute, of course 
 transcends its own immanent contradictions. Al>solute 
 knowledge is the resting-point in winch all contradictions 
 are at once )>reserved and al>olislied, auftjehohen* , in the 
 language of Hegel. Tlie word mediation ( Vermittlumj) is 
 used by Hegel to denote tlie negative moment of the 
 Dialectical process, in its purity. Tliis leads us to revert 
 to the question of the concepts true and false. Hegel 
 explains the distinction between them, as \ iewed from tlie 
 standpoint of ordinary consciousness, and from tliat of tlie 
 philosoi)hical reason. After defining the false as the 
 otherness, the negativity of tlie substance of the true, as 
 an essential moment in the realisation of tlie true, and yet 
 as not constituting an element of tlie true as such, ho 
 proceeds : " For tlie sake of clearness in indicating the 
 moment of complete otherness its terminology must no 
 longer be used \vhere the othermss is alK)lished (auf(jehobeii). 
 Thus the expression, the uuitif of subject and object, of 
 finite and infinite, of being and thought, &c., has the in- 
 convenience tliat tliese terms themselves connote wliat 
 they are outside tlieir unity, and therefore that in tlieir 
 
 * Hegel's word axfhehen, whieh moans Itoth "to i)r< s. rve" and "to 
 destroy," is a survival of tin; unity of oppoaites upon which all primitive 
 
 liiiiguig© is b:i6e<l. (See l>r. Carl Atafa essay, Uebtr den Oxjeinfinn 
 
 der OVtcdVfe.— Leipzig, IS^i.) 
 
 unity they do not mean what the phrase implies; the 
 false, as false, is no longer a moment of truth. Dogmatism 
 as a mode of thought in Science, and in the study of 
 Philosophy, is nothing but the opinion that the true 
 consists in a proposition which is a fixed result, or in 
 that which is immediately known. To such questions, as 
 when Caesar was bom, or how many toises made a stadium, a 
 concise answer can be given. Similarly it is definitely true 
 that the square of the hypothenuse equals the sum of the 
 squares of both remaining sides of the right-angled triangle. 
 But the nature of such so-called truth is different from 
 the nature of philosophical truth " (Phdnomenologie, pp. 
 30-1). A few pages farther on, after the subject of Mathe- 
 matical truth has been dealt with, and its imperfections 
 shown, we have the following pregnant sentences : " The 
 phenomenon is the coming and going, which yet does not 
 come and go, but is in itself, and whiqh constitutes the 
 reality and movement of the life of truth. The true is a 
 Baochantian revel, in which there is no member that is 
 not drunken ; but yet because each, in so far as it severs 
 itself from the whole, is at once dissolved, this revel is none 
 the less transparent and simple repose. In judging the 
 movement, though individual fomis of the mind do not 
 obtain as determinate thoughts, they are, notwithstanding, 
 just as much positive and necessary as they are negative 
 and evanescent momenta. In the totality of the movement 
 — in the movement conceived as rest — that in it which 
 distinguishes itself and acquires a specific reality, as such, 
 which recollects, preserves itself, whose reality is know- 
 ledge of itself, is the immediate reality " (Phdnomenologie, 
 pp. 35-6). *' In the nature of that which is," says Hegel, 
 "to realise its conception in its being, consists logical 
 necessity generally. 'I'his alone is the rational, and the 
 rhythm of the organic whole ; it is just as much knowledge 
 of the content, as the content itself is concept and essence 
 — in other words, it alone is sppculatlve. The concrete fact, 
 as self-realising, constitutes itself simple determinateness ; 
 it thus raises itself to logical form, and is in its nature as 
 essence. In this movement consists its concrete reality 
 which is at the same time logical reality. It is therefore 
 unnecessary to affix to the concrete content a formalism 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch n. 
 
 external thereto ; the former is itself the transition to the 
 latter, which latter ceases, however, to be external and 
 formal, since the form has become native to the process of 
 the concrete content itself" (Fhdnomemlogie, p. 43). One 
 more quotation before we leave the * Phenomenology.' " Ex- 
 perience," Hegel observes, " is simply this, that the content, 
 that is, consciousness in itself, is substance, and therefore 
 object of consciousness. But this substance, which is 
 consciousness, is the process of its becoming what it is in 
 itself; and it is only as this Becoming, reflected into 
 itself, that it is, in truth, consciousness. In itself it is 
 the movement which constitutes knowledge— the trans- 
 formation of this in-iUelfneu into for-itsel/ness, the sul)stance 
 into the subject, the object of consciousness, into the object 
 of self-consciousness— that is, into the object as in its turn 
 abolished, or in other words into the concept. It is a circle 
 returning in upon itself which presupposes its beginning, 
 and yet only attains it as end. Thus, in so far as conscious- 
 ness consists necessarily in this distinction within itself, 
 itself as the perceived whole, confronts its simple self-con- 
 sciousness, and inasmuch as it distinguishes the latter, it 
 is distinguished in its pure perceived concept— that is, in 
 time, and in its content, or in-itselfness. Substance has, as 
 subject, the primary inner necessity to display itself, as 
 what it is in itself— as consciousness. The complete 
 objective presentation is primarily its reflection, or its 
 realisation as self" {FMnomenohgie, p. 585). 
 
 We now turn to the Logic of Hegel. In the Logic we 
 have the essential articulations, or momenta of conscious- 
 ness presented, not in the order in which they disclose 
 themselves to the reflective understanding, as in the 
 * FhenoiiKTi.. logy,* but in the necessary or Logical order of 
 their deduction. The secret of Hegel's method, it will be 
 by this time sufficiently clear to the reader, lies in the triple 
 articulation of each stage or plane of reality. Matter or 
 in-itselfness becomes negated as form or for-itselfness. This 
 negation is in its turn negated ; but the negation is not ab- 
 solute in either case, the one form is preserved or, so to speak, 
 held in solution in the succeeding one, notwithstanding its 
 negative character considered per se. Thus, in the third 
 term, which is the negation of the negative of the first, wo 
 
 Epoch n.} 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 have the completed moment as such. Hegel takes care to 
 observe, what indeed is sufficiently obvious, namely, that 
 his Logic might equally well have been termed Meta- 
 physic or Ontology, since, from the point of view of 
 speculative thought, this distinction of departments can 
 no longer be maintained. The world, reality, experience, 
 consists merely in these logical determinations ; the sum 
 total of these determinations is the Absolute. Thus instead 
 of being able to adequately define the Absolute by a single 
 phrase, as Schelling thought he could, Hegel finds it im- 
 possible to do this, save in the complete exposition of a 
 science. Logic in Hegel's sense is this science ; it is the 
 science of the at once all-embracing, all-determining Logos 
 Idea, or Concept, i.e. of consciousness as absolute. 
 
 The categories of which the Hegelian Logic treats, of 
 course entirely traverse the empirical distinctions of mind 
 and matter, subject and object, &c., since they are pre-sup- 
 posed in these distinctions. Hegel somewhere calls them 
 " the souls of all reality." But taken l)y themselves, as 
 spread out before the reflective understanding, they are pure 
 abstractions, and the Logic is thus none the less, as Hegel 
 elsewhere calls it, " the realm of shades." It is necessary 
 to effect an entrance into this realm, notwithstanding, nay, 
 to explore its inmost recesses, in order to attain the true 
 speculative insight, for, since the problem of all science is 
 to recognise the reason on the several planes of reality, this 
 problem can only be solved by knowing, first of all, what 
 reason is?— and, secondly, how to find it? The Logic 
 teaches what the Idea or the Reason is, inasmuch as it 
 exhausts the sum of its determinations as tliey are pre- 
 sented in the forms of abstract thought ; it teaches how to 
 find the Idea or the Keason in so far as it is a doctrine of 
 method. 
 
 The Hegelian Logic falls into three main divisions: 
 Doctrine of Being, Doctrine of Essence, and Doctrine of 
 Concept. " The Logical has three sides," says Hegel, "the 
 Abstract, or that of the understanding ; the Dialectical, or 
 that of the negative reason ; and the Speculative, or that 
 of the positive reason. These three sides do not constitute 
 three parts of logic, but are the momenta of every logical 
 real — that is, of every conception or truth , . . thought as 
 
 Y 2 
 
824 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 [Epoch H- 
 
 understanding cleaves to fixed determinateness, and to its 
 distinction from every other determinateness; such a 
 limited abstraction counts with the understanding for an 
 independent existence." " The dialectical moment is the 
 special self-negation of such finite determinations and their 
 transformation into their opposite." Just as the previous 
 abstract or affirmative moment is the classical moment for 
 dogmatism, the mode of thought characterised by hard and 
 fast distinctions and one-sided theories, so the dialecti(»l 
 moment is the classical moment for scepticism, the mode 
 of thought characterised by a criticism of the assumptions 
 made by dogmatism and the common understanding, having 
 as its upshot the special dogma of the illusoriness of Keality 
 and the vanity of Knowledge. These results of course 
 ensue, when the above momenta are isolated and considered 
 apart from their connection in the trichotomy, or system 
 
 of momenta. 
 
 The term Dialectic is often employed, as was the case 
 with the Sophists of old, to denote a mere barren art 
 of confounding an opponent by an appearance of con- 
 tradiction which does not really exist. In the Hegelian 
 sense, however. Dialectic, " is the time nature of the under- 
 standing's determination of things, and of the finite 
 generally. It is the immanent externalising, wherein the 
 one-sidedness and limitation of the understanding's de- 
 terminations presents itself as what it is, namely, as their 
 negation. It is the nature of everj^hing finite to negate 
 itsSf. Dialectic is therefore the moving soul of the knowing 
 process, the principle, whereby alone immanent connection 
 and necesmty enters into the constitution of knowledge ; 
 and whereby the true, as opposed to the external, trans- 
 cendence of the finite is ].ossible " : " The speculative or 
 positive-rational comprehends tlit* unity of the determinations 
 in their opposition; the affirmative element, which is 
 contained therein, is their dissolution and their trans- 
 formation. Dialectic has a positive result, inasmuch as its 
 result has a determinate content; inasmuch, that is, as its 
 actual issue is not empty abstract nothing but the negation 
 of certain determinations, which are nevertheless contained 
 in the result, since the latter is not mere nothing, but 
 result. This rationality therefore, notwithstanding that it 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 325 
 
 is conceptual and abstract, is at the same time concrete, 
 Bince it is not mere formal unity, but the unity of deter- 
 minations, which are clearly distinguished as such. With 
 mere abstractions philosophy has therefore nothing what- 
 ever to do ; it is concerned only with concrete notions. In 
 speculative Logic, the formal Logic of the understanding 
 is contained, and can easily bo separated from it ; nothing 
 more is required for this than to eliminate the dialectical 
 and rational element therein ; when it becomes what 
 ordinary Logic is, namely, the summary of a variety of co- 
 ordinated thought-determinations which, although finite, 
 pass for something infinite." (Hegel's Encyklopddie der 
 PhihsopJiischen Wissenschafien im Grundrisse, § 79-83.) 
 
 The first division of the Logic treats of the doctrine of 
 Being, or Consciousness in its immediateness — the concept 
 in itself — in its various forms. These are quality, quan- 
 tity, and measure. Quality may be variously considered as 
 being, actuality, for-itselfness ; Quantity as pure quantity, 
 determined quantum, and degree.* Measure is the synthesis 
 of quality and quantity ; it is " a quantum with which is 
 combined an actuality or a quality." This leads to the 
 consideration of the subject-matter of the second division 
 which treats of the doctrine of Essence. 
 
 Stated briefly, Essence may be defined as Being trans- 
 lated into appearance. The primary momenta of Essence 
 are the essence as ground of existence, which is again deter- 
 mined as " pure reflection " (identity, difference, and cause) 
 " actuality " and " the thing ; " the phenomenon, which may 
 be reduced to the " world as phenomenon," " content and 
 form," and " relation ; " and, lastly, the unity of " re- 
 flection " and the *' phenomenon," reality which is articu- 
 lated as ** substance and accident," "cause and effect" and 
 '* reciprocity " (action and reaction). " The manifestation 
 of the real," says Hegel, " is the real itself. This mani- 
 festation is, therefore, essential, and is only so far essential 
 as it is in immediate external actuality. Previously being 
 and actuality have appeared as forms of the immediate; 
 being is always unreflected immediateness and iraiwi- 
 tion . . * The real is the positing of this unity, of tliis 
 relation that has become identical with itself; it is there- 
 fore rescued from transition^ and its energy manifested 
 
326 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 £P0CH II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 as externality; in this it is reflected into itself ; its actu- 
 ality is the manifestaiim of itself, not of another." Tho 
 moment of reality gathers np, so to speak, into itself all 
 previous momenta ; it closes the circle. The highest 
 catagory of the Real is that of reciprocity. The category 
 of reciprocity indeed carries us out of the sphere of Essence 
 into that of Concept, with which the third division of the 
 Logic is concerned. 
 
 The cmcept is the truth of Being and of Essence, and 
 the system of its momenta constitutes the totality of all 
 determinations of Consciousness. The forms of the con- 
 cept Hegel terms, " the living spirit of the Real," the 
 truth of the Real being given in and by these forms. 
 The leading momenta of the Concept are the subjective 
 concept, which embraces the forms of Logic, the object, 
 which gives the cosmical notions of Mechanism, Chemistry, 
 and Teleology, and the Idea in its totality and complete- 
 ness, which sums up the whole of the Logic. The Idea 
 as such may be viewed in its immediate form as life; 
 in its reflected form, as knowledge; and in its absolute 
 form, as unity of subject and object, or rather as the 
 "object," to employ Hegel's language, "in which all 
 determinations are concentrated." The Idea in this sense is 
 absolute truth, the ultimate end of Philosophy. The 
 absolute Idea is the "pwre form of the Concept which 
 contemplates its content as itself." This content, it is 
 scarcely necessary to say, is nothing other than the system 
 of the momenta of Logic which we have just been con- 
 sidering. The general form of the Idea is expressed in 
 the Dialectical method in accordance with which the 
 momenta are deduced, or rather which is the instrument 
 of their deduction. It may be useful to observe, as bear- 
 ing on the historical development from Kant to Hegel, 
 that the first division of the Hegelian Logic, the " Doc- 
 trine of Being," in which the mere immediateness of 
 Reality is discussed, corresponds, roughly speaking, to 
 Kant's "Transcendental iEsthetic;" the second division, 
 or "Doctrine of Essence" in which the reflected forms 
 which enter into the constitution of Reality are dealt 
 with, corresponds to Kant's " Transcendental Analytic ; " 
 while the third division, or Doctrine of Concept, which 
 
 treats of the categories superimposed upon the synthesis 
 of the immediate Real by the Reason, is represented in 
 the eariier (critical) philosophy, by the Transcendental 
 Dialectic. 
 
 The general scheme df Hegel's philosophy of nature will 
 best be understood fron^lthe following quotation : " Nature," 
 says Hegel, "is to be dbnceived as a system of gradations, of 
 which one necessarily proceeds from the other, and the 
 immediate truth of ^hich is that from which it results ; 
 this is not to be und^stood as meaning that one is naturally 
 generated from the/other, the process only taking place in 
 the Idea, which constitutes the innermost ground of nature. 
 The metamorphoms applies only to the Concept, as such, 
 since change in the Concept alone constitutes development. 
 The Concept is in its nature partly inward, partly existent 
 as ^ the living individual ; hence to the latter only is 
 existent metamorphosis limited." {Bncyclopddie, § 249.) 
 This passage, and the one which immediately follows it, 
 in whif;h the doctrine of evolution conceived as natural 
 iproces^ in order of time is combated, exhibits one of the 
 most unfortunate blunders into which Hegel could possibly 
 hav;^ fallen. The answer of the Evolutionist, even without 
 departing from Hegelian principles, to Hegel's diatribe is 
 " Y^ious. That the development which Hegel admits to take 
 face in the order of time in the life of the individual 
 ikes place on a larger scale in the life of the world's 
 history, is a direct deduction from experience, as real in 
 the one case as in the other, and no amount of arbitrary 
 dicta, for Hegel's attitude in this matter is purely arbitrary, 
 will deprive it of its reality. 
 
 Notwithstanding this gratuitously fallacious assumption, 
 Hegel's " Philosophy of Nature " contains some valuable 
 insights, though, on the whole, it is the least original 
 portion of his work, being borrowed largely from Schel- 
 ling. Following Schelling, Hegel divides " Philosophy of 
 Nature " into Mechanic, Physic, and the synthesis of these, 
 Organic. In nature the Idea or the Absolute, which the 
 Logic has treated of in itself is exhibited in the form of 
 external existence, of a determinate order. Nature is the 
 mediation ( Yermittlung) by which consciousness comes to a 
 knowledge of itself, and may thus be regarded as ipso facto 
 
328 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 the oui-of-itselfnesa of the Idea or the Keason. It stands in 
 direct opposition to the Logic, " the realm of shades," as 
 the region of determinateness, par excellence. Hegel allows 
 his impatience at the fact that there are many natural 
 phenomena not yet reduced to law to manifest itself in the 
 frequent assertion, that nature is impotent to display 
 rational order in everything, and that there is much in 
 nature which we must regard l|s pure chance, and as 
 destitute of any philosophical sigliificance. His general 
 attitude naturally leads him to bo unjust to the claims 
 of natural science and its representatives ; against Newton 
 he is particularly bitter, though this is perhaps partly 
 attributable to the influence of Goethe. The main 
 momenta of mechanics are, " space and i-ime," " matter 
 and motion," and their synthesis "absolute mechanic," 
 in which matter appears as a comi)leted quantum. This 
 leads us to the second division; qualified r;iatter jor 
 Physic, the chief momenta of which are the physic of 
 "universal individuality," of "particular indivirluality," 
 and of "total individuality," the final determinatioKi of the^ 
 latter, the chemical process, forming the transition 'to the 
 Organic sphere, the stages of which are "geohj^ical 
 nature," " vegetable nature," and the " animal organism." 
 With the consideration of the animal organism we 
 already on the threshold of the philosophy of mii 
 (Philosophie dea Geiatea), i.e. of the philosophy of Conscious' 
 ness, no longer manifested as out-of-itaelf^ but as returned in 
 upon itself, 
 
 Hegel closes the " Philosophy of Kature " with some 
 observations on the death of the individual. " His incom- 
 patibility with the universal," says Hegel, " is his original 
 bane and the innate germ of death. The abolition of this 
 incompatibility is the fulfilment of his destiny. Mind 
 presupposes nature, the truth of which it is. In this truth 
 nature has vanished, and mind has proclaimed itself as the 
 Idea attfiined to for itaelfneaa^ for- which the concept is no 
 less object than suhject. This Identity is Absolute negativity^ 
 inasmuch as, in nature, the Concept has completely 
 manifested its objectivity, but in mind this its manifesta- 
 tion is al)oli8hed, and it has become identical with itself 
 {Encyclopddie, § 381). 
 
 Epoch IL] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 329 
 
 The triple division of the " Philosophy of Mind," is as 
 follows : first of all, the Subjective Mind, in which mind 
 is related immediately to itself as the ideal totality, 
 whose being is freedom ; secondly, the Objective Mind, or 
 mind in the form of reality, a world in which freedom is 
 reduced to necessity ; and, lastly. Absolute Mind, which is 
 the unity of the two previous momenta. The first divi- 
 sion embraces " Anthropology," " Phenomenology," and 
 "Psychology," Hegel only employing this term for its 
 concluding section. Psychology considers mind theo- 
 retically as intelligence, practically as will ; and, lastly, 
 as the unity of these, as morality. The intelligence finds 
 itself limited, but posits this very limitation as its own in 
 recognising the all, as realising rational purpose. The 
 essence of morality is, that the will should have a universal 
 rational content for its purpose. The second division, 
 dealing with Objective Mind, shows the realised product of 
 freewill as exhibited in law and right, in a moral code, 
 and in social institutions culminating in the state. The 
 Absolute Mind, with which the third and last division is 
 concerned, is determined in the forms of Art, Keligion, 
 and Philosophy. The Idea, as the Philosophic Keason, 
 forms the culmination of the entire system; it is the 
 Keason come to a knowledge of itself. In Art it is 
 presented to sense, in Keligion to the reflective under- 
 standing, and in Philosophy to the Keason, which pre- 
 supposes 3^et transcends both. 
 
 Such is a brief outline of the Hegelian system. It remains 
 to notice l>riefly the working out of the several depart- 
 ments of its last and most practically important division. 
 Hegel's Ethic is apparently based on the doctrine of freedom 
 which had V)een common to his predecessors. He rehabi- 
 litates Kant's separation of the legal from the moral, in 
 admitting a sphere in which the individual subject is 
 completely controlled by the objective mind — in short, in 
 which its freedom is reduced to necessity. This is the 
 second of the cardinal momenta of mind. But Hegel does 
 not admit law to be a limitation of freedom ; it is merely 
 a limitation of the arbitrariness of the individual will. 
 Nevertheless, it is opposed to the principle on which 
 morality rests, which is conscience, the power wherein 
 
m^o 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 331 
 
 good is combined with the possibility of evil ; both of these 
 departments are however one-sided, and are united, or find 
 their synthesis in what Hegel terms Sittlichkeit, a word 
 generally identical with morality, but which Hegel 
 distinguishes from the latter, and which, employed in his 
 sense, may |)erhaps best be rendered as Virtue (the ancient 
 civic virtue), the Latin |?ie/a«. It is a morality with a definite 
 social content. The momenta of this substance or content 
 are, the family, the society, the state. In giving the highest 
 place to social obligation, Hegel shows that he is conscious 
 of the barren and abstract nature of the Ethics of Kant 
 and Fichte, for whom mere subjective freedom was the 
 ultimate goal. By this, he virtually surrenders the stand- 
 point of the " ethics of inwardness," as such, together with 
 Its correlate, the " religion of the spirit," although profess- 
 ing to have placed them on an inexpugnable footing. The 
 fact that he finds in the state the culmination and realisa- 
 tion of the family and society, rather than in society the 
 realisation of the family and the state, is, however, one of 
 those strange perversions of view for which, we fear, we 
 must regard governmental patronage as largely respon- 
 sible. Both logically and historically, the family (or rather 
 the gens) is clearly negated in the state, the tendency of 
 which, qua state, must invariably be to abolish the ori- 
 ginal independence of the family. The complex state- 
 organization is the antithesis of the simple family-organi- 
 zation, which it, so to speak, swallows up. It is plainly 
 then in the negation of the state, in its self-abolition, in 
 which the state (civitas) is transformed into a free 
 society, a higher family-organization (mcietas), that the 
 synthesis, the telos, of the two previous momenta is dis- 
 coverable. 
 
 HegePs philosophy of history is in accordance with a 
 point of view founded on the conception of the political 
 moment being the essential one. For the rest, its leading 
 principle, though it may be easily inferred from the 
 general thought of the system, we give in Hegel's own 
 words: — • 
 
 " The only Thought which Philosophy brings with it 
 to the contemplation of history, is the simple conception 
 of Meason ; that Keason is the Sovereign of the World • 
 
 
 that the history of the world, therefore, presents us with 
 a rational process. This conviction and intuition is a 
 hypothesis in the domain of history as such. In that of 
 Philosophy it is no hypothesis. It is there proved by 
 speculative cognition that Reason ... is Substance as well 
 as Infinite Potcer ; 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 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 separate 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 exist- 
 ence, and absolute final aim, it is also the energizing 
 power realising this aim ; developing it not only in the 
 phenomena of the natural, but also of the Spiritual Uni- 
 verse — The History of the World. That this " Idea " or 
 "Reason" is the True, the Eternal, the ahsolntelj powerful 
 essence ; that it reveals itself in the World ... is the 
 thesis which, as we have said, has been proved in 
 Philosophy, and is here regarded as demonstrated " * 
 (Hegel's 'Philosophy of History,' Bohn's edition, pp. 
 
 9-10). 
 
 The lectures on the "Philosophy of History,'* consist 
 mainly in disquisitions on the various forms the state has 
 assumed in the different historic periods. Social and 
 economic conditions are of course viewed as completely 
 subordinated to political. In his younger days Hegel had 
 subscribed to the revolutionary views of Rousseau and of 
 
 • The reader will have no difficulty in reading between the lines of 
 the theistic or pantheistic colouring of this passage. 
 
r 
 
 332 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Efoch II. 
 
 Fichte, but at this time he liad no expectations of patron- 
 age from the Pnissian Government. For the official 
 philosopher of the great Bureaucratic system which was 
 centred in Berlin— a system the perfection of whose wisdom 
 had shown itself consummated in the choice of its philo- 
 sophic representative — the state as therein embodied could 
 hardly fail to express the highest incarnation of the 
 Eeason. The extent of Hegel's adoration of authority, for 
 its own sake, will be estimated when we inform the 
 reader that he professed to regard marriage as more moral 
 when arranged by jmrents, than when dictated by the 
 inclinations of "parties" themselves; that, like 8chel- 
 ling, he was prepared to apostrophize the Kai«er, as 
 the political " soul of the world ; " that he was the sworn 
 defender (and this on grounds, not of antiquarianism 
 or expediency, but of principle) of monopolies, closed 
 corporations, &c. Erdmann lias observed that Hegel's 
 •Philosophy of History' combines the anthropological 
 view of Herder, according to which humanity passes 
 through four stages, with the political view of Kant, 
 according to which the Oriental state signifies the freedom 
 of one alone (despotism), the Classical state the freedom of 
 some (slave-holding oligarchy), the Germanic state (presu- 
 mably, as represented by the Prussian system before '48) 
 as the freedom of all (?). 
 
 Hegel's lectures on 4Csthetic, with the exception Of the 
 •Philosophy of History,' are perhaps the most popular 
 of his works. Hegel felt with Schelling, and in opposition 
 to Kant and Fichte, that the moral consciousness was 
 after all not ultimate ; that there was a region in which 
 the individual mind was freed from the restlessness of 
 natural and moral striving, and that this was the region 
 of Art (compare Schopenhauer, supra, pp. 296-9). The Art 
 work as the presentment of the Beautiful exhibits the 
 Absolute in sensuous existence ; it is an appeal to the 
 heart. It does not merely afford theoretical knowledge 
 or practical' satisfaction, but it raises it above these finite 
 forms to a sense of infinite enjoyment. 
 
 The chief periods of Art are the Oriental, the Classical, 
 and the Romantic. In Oriental Art the special characteristic 
 of which is symbolism, the matter preponderates over the 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 333 
 
 form ; in Classical Art, the characteristic of which is 
 grace, the form and the matter balance each other; in 
 Eomantic Art, which is spiritual par excellence, sublimity 
 and beauty are combined ; the form asserts its pre-eminence. 
 In each of the fine Arts these momenta are discoverable 
 no less than in the History of Art as a whole. Thus, in 
 architecture, the art which is first in the order of time, the 
 moment of symbolism or sublimity may be seen in the 
 Monument {e.g. the pyramid, the tower, the obelisk, &c.) 
 characteristic of the ancient Oriental civilizations; the 
 classical moment in the Greek Temple ; the romantic in 
 . the Gothic Cathedral. The peculiarly Romantic Arts of 
 Painting and Music present within themselves the same 
 stages which are all embraced and reduced to unity, in the 
 Art which is the Art of Arts, Art par excellence, viz. 
 Poetry. Hegel defines the form of the Beautiful as the 
 unity of multiplicity. The progress of Art, according to 
 Hegel, consists in the gradual elimination of the spacial 
 and material element therein. The beginning of Art 
 Architecture, exhibits, as above stated, an enormous pre- 
 ponderance of the sensuous material. In Sculpture, the 
 peculiarly classical Art, the mere material is less obtru- 
 sive ; moreover, as embodying a definite form, that of the 
 human body, it is a step towards a higher ideality. 
 Painting, the earlier of the romantic Arts, the perfection 
 of which was reached in the middle ages, inasmuch as it 
 gets rid of the third dimension of matter, implies a 
 further advance towards the ideal, the supremacy of form ; 
 it is the objective art of form. Music, of which the 
 material is pure tone, and whose perfection has been 
 reached in the modern world, finally abolishes the element 
 of space altogether; its content is the inner emotional 
 nature, and lience it is the most subjective of all the Arts. 
 Lastly, Poetr^^ dispenses with any specific material what- 
 ever, its material being simply language, the medium for 
 the expression of thought in general, and Poetry may be 
 truly termed the Art of universal expression. It compre- 
 hends all the otlier Arts in itself, Painting in the epos. 
 Music in the lyric, and the unity of both in the drama. 
 It is peculiar to no one period of history, but is present in 
 one or more of its forms in all periods. 
 
334 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch IL 
 
 Hegel showed a far deeper appreciation of the significance 
 of Art than Schelling. The latter could merely regard it as 
 a special department of modem culture, and the artist as a 
 professional man of talent or genius in no special manner the 
 product of his age or race. Hegel, on the contrary, took 
 ftn historical view ; he saw in Art the expression of the life 
 ©f a period, or of a people ; he saw that all true Art, all 
 Art that is worth anything, is essentially social and not 
 individual. " Each generation hands its beauty on to the 
 next ; each has done something to give utterance to the 
 universal thought. Those said to have genius, have 
 merely acquired the particular faculty of expressing the 
 general social forms in their own work, some in this 
 respect, some in the other. Their product is not their 
 invention but that of the whole nation . . . Each adds 
 his stone to the structure, the artist among the rest, only 
 that he happens to have the fortune to come last, and thus 
 when he lays his stone the arch is self-supporting. ' 
 
 The close of HegeFs Philosophy of iEsthetics as usual 
 contains an indication of the next division of the philosophy 
 of Absoluto Mind, viz. that of Keligion. Eeligion is the 
 form in which the Absolute is presented, not only to the 
 perceptive consciousness or feeling, but also to the 
 reflective understanding. The historical momenta of 
 Eeligion are, the nature-religions in which God is regarded 
 as mere natural substance (Fetichism and the lower 
 forms of Polytheism) ; those Religions in which the Deity 
 is conceived as Subject which comprise the Jewish Keligion 
 or the religion of sublimity, the Greek Religion or the 
 religion of beauty, and the Roman Religion or the religion 
 of utility; and, finally, the synthesis of nature-religion, 
 and of subjective-religion, viz. Absolute religion, the 
 ultimate expression of which, it is needless to say, Hegel 
 somehow or other manages to find in the special form of 
 Protestant Christianity established in Prussia. The 
 dexterous evolutions performed to arrive at this end are 
 more curious than instructive ; especially the case as 
 regards the manner in which the leading Christian dogmas 
 are twisted into conformity with the Hegelian doctrine. 
 
 As Art found its issue in Religion, so Religion finds its 
 culmination in Philosophy. Philosophy is truth in its 
 
 ErocH n.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 335 
 
 absoluteness, the thought of the self-thinking Idea, of 
 the self-comprehending Reason. The development of 
 Philosophy shows a progress from the abstract to the 
 concrete; the philosophy of the pre-Socratists, of the 
 Eleatics, of Herakleitos, and of the Atomists represents 
 respectively the momenta of Being, Becoming, and For- 
 itselfness; the philosophy of Plato, the categories of 
 Essence ; that of Aristotle, those of the Concept ; that 
 of the Neo-Platonists, the totality of the Concrete Idea. 
 Similarly, the philosophy of the middle ages and of 
 modern times, is the philosophy of the Idea as self- 
 conscious, or as mind. The Cartesian philosophy occupies 
 the standpoint of unreflective consciousness ; the Kantian, 
 that of self-consciousness; the Hegelian, that of the 
 Reason or Absolute knowledge. Hegel claims therefore 
 that, in his system, all earlier philosophies are implied 
 and embraced as essential momenta, at the same time that 
 they are superseded. 
 
 " In the peculiar form of external history" he says, " the 
 origin and development of philosophy is presented as the 
 history of this science. This form gives to the Idea's 
 stages of development, the appearance of accidental 
 succession, and of mere diversity of principles, with thejr 
 working out in philosophical systems. But the craft- 
 master of this work of ages is the one living spirit whose 
 thinking nature it is to bring what it is, to its conscious- 
 ness, and immediately this has become object to have 
 already in itself attained a higher stage, a stage which is 
 above and beyond it. The History of Philosophy shows us, 
 in apparently diverse philosophies, on the one hand, only 
 a philosophy at difierent stages of development, and on 
 the other, only the special principles, one of which under- 
 lies one system, and one another, but which are only 
 branches of one and the same whole. The last philosophy 
 in the order of time is the result of all previous philoso- 
 phies, and must hence contain the principles of them all ; 
 it is therefore, in so far as it is philosophy at all, the 
 most developed, the richest, and the most concrete of all 
 philosophies." 
 
 Hegel ianism had for some years previous to the death 
 of Hegel in 1831, overshadowed the intellectual firmament 
 
336 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 with its colossal structure. As before with Kantianism, its 
 parent, so now, though even to a greater extent, with 
 Hegelianism, it was the dominant philosophy taught 
 throughout Germany, and asserting its influence in all 
 departments of culture. The term of Hegel's life coin- 
 cided with the culmination of the authority of his school, 
 and the c«jmmencement of its decline, considered as repre- 
 senting a system one and indivisible, as the doctrine 
 of the master, in its orthodox form, claimed to be. 
 Soon after Hegel's death, his disciples published his 
 completed works. But dissensions speedily became 
 apparent. The first crisis in the school occurred about 
 1835. " The school of Hegel," says Rosenkranz, writing 
 in 1844, " in the sense that others must seek his instruc- 
 tion as that of an immortal master of speculation, not 
 only exists, but will continue to exist in the future, just 
 in the sdme way as after Aristotle there were still Aristo- 
 telians, and after Spinoza, Spinozists. But the school, in 
 the sense of a social union of disciples — in the sense, that 
 is, of a kind of corporate responsibility of one Hegelian 
 for his neighbour, has ceased. The Berliner jahrhticher, its 
 outward meeting-place, can moreover no longer be con- 
 sidered as the expression of the development Of the 
 Hegelian philosophy, nor as the organ of its apologetics 
 and polemics. The most violent divergencies of disciples 
 from the master, as well as of disciples from each other, 
 have become notorious." 
 
 This break-up of the school, as a school, Rosenkranz, 
 although himself one of the original disciples of Hegel, 
 justly Regards as inevitable, aSd indeed \s a hopeful 
 reaction against the worship of phrases, and of the system 
 as a system, towards which there was a tendency in its 
 halcyon days. The collapse of the Hegelian school, he 
 asserts, does not mean the collapse of the Hegelian 
 philosophy, but rather the necessary condition of its 
 continued life and activity. 
 
 There is a passage of Hegel's own a-propos of this, 
 which is worthy of l>eing inscribed in letters of gold, and 
 which the " man of the world," — who, strong in his smug 
 ignorance of history and " sound common-sense," jeers at 
 the internal ditierences accompanying the growth of a 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 HEGEL. 
 
 337 
 
 movement as signs of d^cay — would do well to remember : 
 " A party shows itself to have won the victory first when 
 it has broken up into two parties ; for then it proves that 
 it contains in itself the principle with which at first it had 
 to conflict, and thus that it has got beyond the onesidedness 
 which was incidental to its earliest expression. The 
 interest which formerly divided itself between it and that 
 to which it was opposed, now falls entirely within itself, 
 and the opposing principle is left behind and forgotten, 
 just because it is represented by one of the sides in the 
 new controversy which now occupies the minds of men. 
 At the same time, it is to be observed that when the 
 old principle thus reappears, it is no longer what it was 
 before, for it is changed and purified by the higher 
 element into which it is now taken up. In this point of 
 view, that discord which appears at first to be a lament- 
 able l)reach and dissolution of the unity of a party, is 
 really the crowning proof of its success." 
 
 The success of Hegelianism as a distinct system was no 
 doubt partly due to its eclectic, and hence to some extent 
 conservative, and even reactionary tendencies. Hegel 
 restored to philosophy in a new form what Kant had 
 demolished in its older form, viz. Metaphysic proper or 
 Ontology. His Logic identified " Theory of Knowledge " 
 and (3ntology in seeking to show that existence was only 
 one of the momenta of consciousness, and not vice versa. 
 Again, Hegel had sought to re-establish a inodus vivendi 
 between Theology and Philosophy (albeit at the cost 
 of the former) in his Religionsphilosophie, by an ingenious 
 esoteric interpretation of leading dogmas, and also by 
 taking under his wing the Prussian Church organization. 
 But Hegel differed from his predecessors on a most 
 important point, the practical side of his philosophy, 
 to wit, the virtual surrender of the individualistic 
 Ethics so strongly accentuated by Kant and Fichte, and 
 the rehabilitation of the ancient conception of social 
 virtue, the morality which has for its end the family, 
 the city, and the state. That he was led to this partly 
 l>y his zeal on behalf of Prussian bureaucracy, does not 
 alter the intrinsic importance of the change of stand- 
 point. With the events consequent on the revolutionary 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Efoco n. 
 
 year, 1830, the conservative side, and therewith the 
 system as a system of the Hegelian philosophy became 
 shaken. The political ascendency of the middle class, 
 which was now everywhere the order of the day — the 
 temporary reaction consequent on the French revolution 
 having spent itself— ill accorded mth the system which, 
 in a sense, apotheosized class-despotism of a different kind. 
 Hegelianism began to work ont in opposite directions ; a 
 right and a left wing formed in the school ; and the in- 
 tellectual life of Gennany during the seventeen years from 
 the period of Hegel's death to the revolution of 1848, 
 is mainly taken up with the controversies liberated by 
 the dissolution of the original Hegelian school, which 
 resulted in a severe struggle between the various sections 
 of the party. These controversies, religious, social, and 
 political, we shall briefly notice in the following pages. 
 
 The Hegeuan School. 
 
 Attacks on the Hegelian system had already begun 
 before the death of Hegel, from standpoints which were 
 not opposed to the speculative method in general. Weisse, 
 professor of Philosophy at Leipzig, in an essay on the 
 " Present Standpoint of Philosophical Science," published 
 in 1829, criticised the Logic in a theistic sense, and subse- 
 quently attacked the system in detail in a series of 
 works. The Hegelian right consisted, among others, of 
 Gans, Heinrichs, Goschel, Michelet, Rosenkranz, and 
 Vischer. These men, all pupils of Hegel, adhered to the 
 doctrine, more or less, in its original form, though for the 
 most part emphasising the conservative side. Michelet, 
 who is still living, has recently published a summary 
 of the system. Of these more orthodox and conservative 
 disciples of Hegel, there is little to be said in a work 
 like the present, save that they took an active part in 
 the controversies of the period. 
 
 The most remarkable development of the Hegelian 
 doctrine was that accomplished in the left wing, and 
 which is associated with the names of Strauss, Feuerbach, 
 Bruno Bauer, Ruge, &c. Hegelianism, as a system, at 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 THE HEGELIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 339 
 
 once tended to promote and to check the free tendencies 
 of the age in Theology, Politics, &c. Its most noteworthy 
 product in Theology, however, was the celebrated Tiibingen 
 school of biblical criticism, the best known names connected 
 with which are Ferdinand Christian Baur, and David 
 Friedrich Strauss. The first actual crisis in the Hegelian 
 party was indeed brought about by the publication of 
 Strauss's Lehen Jem, although, considering that the notion 
 of the supernatural in Religion and History had been practi- 
 cally absent from the educated German mind since Kant, 
 it is difficult to understand the sensation produced by the 
 definite working-out of a "mythical theory" as to the 
 •origin of Christianity by Strauss. But the main issue 
 in the religious sphere resolved itself into the question of 
 the compatibility of the Hegelian system with theism at 
 all. Hegel himself had of course maintained it to be the 
 only possible form of theism ; but this, it must be remem- 
 bered, was as he understood theism. He also (vide supra, 
 p. 334) affirmed its complete accordance with Christian doc- 
 trine, as established in Prussia, again with the important 
 reservation, however, that philosophy was to interpret 
 that doctrine, a reservation which effectually "kept the 
 word of promise to the ear," but as effectually broke it the 
 hope of the orthodox. So with the theistic question ; it was 
 not long before the more advanced Hegelians made up their 
 minds to expose and disavow what justly seemed to them a 
 merely verbal accommodation. In Strauss's second great 
 work, the * Christian Dogmatics in their Development, and 
 in their Conflict with Modem Science,' the narrower and 
 the wider issue were brought out into clear relief, and the 
 view insisted on that Christian Religion and Modern Philo- 
 sophy are opposed to one another as Theism to Pantheism. 
 There is a sly hit at the master where Strauss, playing 
 upon the German word Grund (ground or reason), says 
 that a philosopher may have very good grounds (Griinde) 
 for calling himself a Christian, but he can have no reason 
 (Grund). To the philosopher, for whom there is no 
 hard and fast distinction between this and the other 
 world, for whom all such distinctions, as mind and 
 matter, subject and object, divine and natural, are at once 
 embtaced and transcended in a higher unity there is no 
 
 z 2 
 
340 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 crreater enemy than a doctrine which affirms and perpetu- 
 ates this dualism of conception. Inasmuch as the resolution 
 of these oppositions has already accomplished itselt, the 
 criticism of dogma becomes identical with its history. 
 The aim of Strauss in the work in question is therefore to 
 point out the precise manner in which the ecclesiastical 
 dogma moulded itself out of the biblical doctrine ; how 
 with the Keformation the dissolution began; how the 
 tentative doctrines of the Reformers were in their turn 
 reformed by the Socinians, Spinoza, and the English 
 Deists ; how the conclusions of these latter were pushed 
 forward by the French and German Aufkldrung, till 
 Schelling drew and Hegel formulated the conclusion that 
 there is no other Divinity than the thought in all thinking 
 beino-s ; no Divine attributes other than natural laws ; and 
 that*the All knows no addition and no diminution, but is 
 continually manifested in the infinity of individuals. 
 
 Bruno Bauer, who originally belonged to the extreme 
 right, being bitteriy attacked as a representative of this 
 direction by Strauss, and who had been accused of being on 
 the high road to join the then well-known pietist, Heng- 
 stenberg, startled every one, when, in 1839, he published 
 his "Herr Doctor Hengstenberg, a contribution to the 
 critique of religious consciousness," in which the arti- 
 fices of the orthodox apologists were scathingly exposed. 
 In a subsequent work, the notion of a Church organization 
 is treated as a survival, and religion declared to exist only 
 as religiosity—that is, the sentiment of devotion to a 
 higher power ; but at present, Bauer declared, there is no 
 power to which the individual can devote himself higher 
 than the state. Between the civil and the antiquated 
 ecclesiastical organization stands Science on the side of the 
 former, and where the State seeks to limit Science in the 
 interest of Theology, it is really fighting against itself. 
 
 Bruno Bauer was joined later on by his brother Ldgar, 
 who put foi-ward a doctrine, worked out in • a meta- 
 physical form by Max Stirner, of whom we shall speak 
 presently, which may be regarded as the prototype of 
 modem Individualism. It pruclaiuied the individual 
 supreme, and denounced all government and organizations 
 whatever as destructive of the individuality. Thus Bruno's 
 
 342 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 The most remarkable product albeit the r^dwdioj^ 
 ahsurdum of the ex-Hegelian individualists was the 1 ttle 
 work of Max Stirner (Dr. Schmidt), entitled the In- 
 dividual and His Possession' {Der Etnzige und sein 
 Eigenthum), in which the author seeks to show the here^ 
 from their own point of view, even of Feuerbach and Bauer 
 themselves; how, that is, even in their later writings the 
 religious principle still clings to them, as shown m the^r 
 admission of the Ideal of society or humanity as an object 
 of devotion for the individual. " The Individual and HiB 
 Property" might serve as a text-book for our modem 
 fndSlist-aSarchiste^ The principle of Indrndua^^^^^^^ 
 is there pushed to its only logical conclusiom The selt- 
 consciousness " of Bauer, the " humanity " of Feuerbac^^^^^ 
 « society " of the Communists, are all stigmatised as relics 
 of superstition, as objects of worship From these stand- 
 points, all and severally the individual as such is ^ost 
 Bieht of, and yet only the individual is real. He who 
 Kes himself to aught outside himself, ^thout receiving 
 an equivalent for his devotion, surrenders his individuality 
 !!he^Ts superstitious. The individual ^go is the o^^^ 
 concrete, all else is abstract and unreal. The Ideal, the 
 S^n is realised when the Christian conception becomes 
 LvWted into the proposition, ' th^^/V^^^^"^^^^^^^ ^^"3 
 inaii ' The conceptual question * what is the man? has 
 then resolved itself into the personal one * ^^^^ is the man 
 with * what ' the conception was sought to ^^^^^^^^^^ 
 • who ' there is no longer any more question, but the answer 
 is immediately present in the question the question answers 
 itself of itself ... I am the owner of my power, and 1 it 
 is wL know myself as individual. In the individual this 
 o Jier returps I the creative -thing out of which he was 
 ' )rn Every being that is above me, be it God, be it nian, 
 ^\kens the feelinl of my individuality, and pales befor^ 
 nn of this consciousness. I place my interest m my- 
 Sie individual ; it stands then on the same footing as 
 Isient mortal creator, who thus feeds upon himself, 
 [herefore say, ' I have placed my interest m nothing 
 'linzige und sein Eigenthum, p. 491). ihis is 
 V a novel way of arriving at the Stoic apathy, 
 is practically the result of Max Stirner s reasoning, 
 
342 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 The most remarkable product albeit the reductio ^ 
 cb^urduM of the ex-Hegelian «di^d«'l«t«'.r''f ^^ 'H^ 
 work of Max Stimer (Ur. Schmidt), entitled the In- 
 
 S^du:{ and His Po^ssion- i\^ JZi\AZ 
 Eigenthum), in which the author seeks to show the "ler^ 
 from their own point of view, even of Feuerbach and ^ner 
 themselves ; how, that is, even in their later writings the 
 Soulprinciplo still clings to them, as shown in their 
 adnfission of the Ideal of society or humanity as ^y^}^ 
 of devotion for the individual. " The If '--d»«l ''"f ^^^ 
 Pronertv" might serve as a text-book for our modem 
 SduaUst-anarchists. The principle of Individual 
 is there pushed to its onlv logical •^nol^"- „T^° ^K" 
 consciouiness " of Bauer, tte " humanity; "^ ^f^J^^^^^jf^ 
 '• society " of the Communists, are aU stigmatised as relics 
 of^pe«tition, as objects of worship From th.»e stand- 
 JoiZ, all and severally the i»dividua as such is ^^t 
 Biffht of. and yet only the individual is real. Ue vinio 
 devotes himself to aught outside himself, withou recemng 
 an equivalent for hislevoljon. sumndexs his indiv^^^^^^^^ 
 
 -he is superstitious. The individual Ego w the "°ly 
 concrete all else is abstract and unreal. The Ideal, tne 
 Man is realised when the Christian conception Wmes 
 fonv'erted in>o the proposition. ' th.s individnal am the 
 man ' The conceptual question ' what is the man .' has 
 then resolved itself into the personal one ' ^l'0».t^««'i°^. 
 with ' what • the conception was sought to ^/^ahsed , w,th 
 . who ■ there is no longer any more question, but the answer 
 is immediately present in the question the question answers 
 itself of it«elt- ... 1 am the owner of my power and It 
 ifwL knZ myself as individual. In the individual this 
 o.vner returps to the c-^tive nothing out of v.h.ch he was 
 im. Every being that is above ...,• be >t Go<l- ^ it ma^ 
 ^ ikens the feeling of my individuality, and palf before 
 »n of this conscionsnoss. I place my interest in my- 
 ,e individual ; it stands then on the same footing as 
 ksiciit ni<,rtal creator, who thus feeds upon himself. 
 Therefore say, ' I have placed my interest m nothing 
 ' rjnzigt »»d sein Eigenthum, p. 491). Ihis is 
 I, a novel way of arriving at the St<jio apathy, 
 lis practically the result of Max Stimer's reasouiug. 
 
 Il 
 
 Epoca nj 
 
 THE HEGELIAN SCHOOIk 
 
 843 
 
 as wUl be apparent from the concluding sentences of his 
 ^k, which we have just quoted. But the preposterous 
 result, and much besides in the work, which is merely 
 paradoxical and bizarre, does not detract from the fact of 
 Lre being much also that is valuable ^n the f^P« Pj 
 criticism scattered up and down the volume. The reply 
 of Feuerbach to this attack was hardly up to his usual 
 
 ^^^The'chief organ of the HegeUan left at this period was 
 the Halleschen JahrhOcher, the editor being Arnold Kuge, 
 who was one of the foremost leaders of the German revolu- 
 tionary movement of 1848. UnUke Strauss, the Bauors. 
 and Feuerbach, who can hardly be regarded as belonging 
 to the Hegelian school at all, Euge was, at least for a long 
 time, comparatively orthodox in the essentials of his 
 Hegkianism ; the JahrhiUher nevertheless formed the 
 general meeting-ground for all groups °f the P?.r7 ; and 
 x^ndeed it was in their pages that some of the earher es&ays 
 of Edgar Bauer appeared. A manifesto PnMjshed xn the 
 vear 1840, by Ruge and his co-editor, Echtermeyer, 
 nominally on " Romanticism and Protestantism, but 
 Xh wL Teally a thinly veUed political essay, had a 
 wirlft-rpachintr influence at tlie time. 
 
 Tte jSaer now began to directly attack the old 
 Hegelians for their superstitious reverence for the masters 
 doctrine, a« well as for their political >nd,ffe'entism They 
 were accused of treating the Logic as a kind of Jeda. while 
 Euge prophesied the rapidly approaching end of the 
 kinldom of the Hegelian Brahma. Hegel himself was 
 vicorously assaUed for his reactionism. In July 1841 the 
 Ealleschljohrbucher appeared as the Pft^^^"^;^^' 
 the change of name being accompani^ by a declaration 
 of nrinciples in which the strict Hegehan orthodoxy was 
 formaUy renounced in its threefold character, philosophic, 
 Sious. and political. AU the fetters of superstition, 
 whfch had hitherto clung to the JahrHch^, were hence 
 forward to be discarded. Henoefori^h it would openly 
 Spy the position of Strauss and Feuerbach in Theology. 
 whUe Vdotemined war was to be waged against Feudalism 
 iT all its surviving forms. The great merit of the 
 HegeUan philosophy would be recognised to consist in its 
 
344 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 having freed men from traditional prejudice. The time 
 had come, Ruge declared, in a subsequent mimber, when 
 the Church should become the School, and Liberalisin Rive 
 place to Democracy. The publication of the Jahrhucher 
 ceased in 1843, and Ruge repaired to Pans where, m con- 
 junction with Marx, he brought out a few numbers of 
 another journal, the Dmtschfranzdsischen Jahrhucher. Re- 
 turning to Saxony, in 1846, he produced his third venture 
 the Eeform, and sat for some time m the parliament ot 
 Frankfort. On the subsidence of the revolutionary move- 
 ment in 1850, Ruge came over to England, where he 
 continued to reside till his death, which occurred at 
 Brighton early in the year 1 881 . Ruge is unquestionably 
 the leading figure of the Hegelian left on its political side 
 and, as already observed, on the dissolution ot the school 
 practical questions assumed a more and more exclusive 
 
 importance. . -i • 
 
 We have only mentioned a few of the more striking 
 names, connected with this period, the interest of which, 
 from a purely speculative point of view, is secondaiy. 
 With the revolution of 1848 conditions were changed ; the 
 Hegelian school was finally dissolved, and those who had 
 constituted it were scattered. Among the surviving 
 academical " monuments " of the older Hegelianism may be 
 mentioned, Erdmann, the author of the well-known 
 * History of Philosophy,' professor at Halle ; Kuno Fischer, 
 professor at Heidelberg, and Michelet of Berlin. Hegel s 
 pupil and biographer, Rosenkranz, died in 1883. 
 
 THE DEVELOPMENT FEOM KANT 
 
 TO HEGEL. 
 
 BETROSPECT AND CRITICISM. 
 
 We have now reached the close of the movement inaugurated ' 
 by Kant, and therewith the close of the History of Philo- 
 sophy properly so called. The later speculation, that is, 
 su^as^is lAuent to the Hegelian movement bel^^^^^^^^ 
 to current thought, and cannot as yet ^^ ass^^f ^\^ ^3 
 in history. Of this we shaU treat m the following and 
 concluding division of the present work. Our object m 
 this section is to take a general survey of the Kantian 
 and post-Kantian movement, and to endeavour to extract 
 
 from it its historical meaning. r r « ^f ^^rr^ 
 
 Kant we have seen, was the pioneer of a line of specu- 
 lative thought, which restored to philosophy the larger 
 basis it haS occupied under the ancients ^y/-^P« 
 those wider issues, which had furnished the themes ot 
 the treatises of Plato and Aristotle, issues ^vt^ch fo^^^^^^ 
 of one problem-that as to the meaning and constitution 
 of reaUty. We have noted how Kant's simple psycho- 
 logical query. How are synthetic propositions a prion 
 Sle? toectly involved the question, How is ex- 
 ^.erience itself possible? and how this ^^^ught us ba^ck 
 to the fundamental inquiry of pY^^^P^^;, J^^,-^^^^^^^^ 
 in which Kant discusses this problem m *>% ^"^^^^^' 
 and elsewhere, was immediately determined by the 
 coLe of h^^^ own thought. The key to the whole is 
 Wever, to be found iiAhe deduction of the categories 
 from the ultimate unity of apperception or consciousness^ 
 The question now arises. Is this thought-unity from which 
 KaXtart^ really ultimate ^ Is the ultimate form of the 
 
 fatSorrabs^^^^^^ I« P^^^^ ^^^^' ^^'''-- ^'TT' T' 
 sciousness presuppose that which becomes conscious ? In other 
 
346 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 words, Is not tlie " I think ** itself snsceptible of further 
 analysis^ Is not this ultimate I distinguishable from its 
 thinking f* We beHeve it is, and that the treatment of this 
 principle as final, and as a purely logical or formal unity, 
 is the origin of the tendency in speculation hitherto, even 
 where professing to be most synthetic, to become onesided. 
 The synthetic unity of the consciousness, the logical 
 element, presupposes the alogical element, the I, or the 
 principle, which becomes unified. This principle which, 
 considered per «e, consciousness or knowledge itself Presup- 
 poses, may hence be regard as the matter of which thought 
 or consciousness is the form. Now we contend that this 
 ultimate, all-penetrating material moment— the subject 
 as such— has been ignored by most of the leaders of specu- 
 lation from Plato to Hegel, and an appearance of having 
 transcended the distinction been obtained by the hypos- 
 tasis of form. At first sight this may seem a subtlety 
 which can have very little speculative, and certainly no 
 practical, importance ; but we shall endeavour to show that 
 it does, as a matter of fact, give a colouring to the whole 
 course of thought, being the general speculative expression 
 of an entire code of ideas ; and that the antagonism of 
 Materialism and Idealism, using these terms in their widest 
 sense, is involved in it. In the speculative or generic 
 method, which deals with a process out of relation to time, 
 the starting-point is also the goal, the beginning and the 
 end meet as in a circle. The ultimate principle which in- 
 volves and includes all others is necessarily the determinant 
 of the entire system of principles. Hence, whether that 
 ultimate principle be formal or material, logical or alogical,t 
 makes a profound difference, and decides indeed the whole 
 character of the system. ^ 
 
 In Plato, what we are here contending for, is very plainly 
 
 • Descartes, in bis famous Cogito, gavo modern epeculatiou at starting 
 a formalist impulse. (See p. 146, «tt|wa.) . ,. ,. ,, 
 
 t The word '* alogical," it has been suggested to me is objectionable, 
 as conveying the idea of an " unknowable," a •♦ surd " outside the system 
 of experience rather than an element therein. The terras " positive 
 lo*ncal " and " negative logical," might be substituted for •* logical 
 and " alogical," though we venture to think the context will preclude 
 misconception on this head. 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 KANT TO HEGEL. 
 
 347 
 
 exhibited. The unifying ihoagJit-form the Zo^ro* is abstracted 
 from its alogical matter, the Hyh and hypostasized through- 
 out as the system of Ideas, which reaches its culmination 
 in the aU-embracing supreme Idea. Aristotle bghts upon 
 the abstraction so glaringly and consistently carried out 
 by Plato and energetically denounces him for it. mt, 
 nevertheless, Aristotle himself falls into substantiaUy the 
 same attitude. For him also pure form-m other words, 
 the Ideal, the * creative intellect,' as actus purus--waB 
 
 the determining element-the ^ll-^^^^^^g .^^/^ ^ato 
 constitution of the real. All systems founded on Plato 
 and Aristotle exhibit the same tendency, that namely, io 
 the hypostasis of the pure form of consciousness and 
 h fortiori of Thought or the Ideal as such. 
 
 We pass over those lines of development, such as the dog- 
 matic and the Empirical, in which, since they are not based 
 r speculati^^ or transcendental analysis, tbe abstrac ion 
 in Question is not so obvious, or so easily pointed out m a 
 few rrds^and coming toKant, who re-affirmed theanalysis 
 Kperiekce or reality as the first problem of philosophy 
 we find the same abstraction made at starting, the 
 XtLtion namely of the /--. of knowing ^1^ 
 from its matter, the alogical «"^f ^^f^^^^^J* P^f ^^^^^^^^ 
 and whose self-determination ^^^9^\'^' J'^^^^,''^ J^^^ 
 «icrht appears to adopt a more concrete standpoint, inis 
 S^nTonfirm^^^ as it would seem by certain statements 
 and certain portions of his analysis. But when the 
 Bvstem is viewed as a whole (not to speak of reiterated 
 aSons to the same effect), it is seen that experience 
 m'^h Fi^hto, no less than with Kant (in his transcendental 
 Eduction), is analysed only into the formal unity of con- 
 Sness that Fichte's » ego " is P-«^^-g^,\ 
 flnf which thinks and which is the possibility of thougiit. 
 it mot^ofLtu.1 self-consciousness is the detormining 
 momrt of the whole. To ScheUing the same remarks 
 3 at Lst as far as the earlier form of his system is con- 
 Sd! the synthetic unity of apperception in ScheUing s 
 ^stem appeals as the formal indifference or identity 
 
 • As regards this , it must be remembered, however, that the deduction 
 of tht Sories, with Kant himself, only concerned one side of his 
 eyetem. 
 
S48 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Kpoch II.] 
 
 KANT TO HEGEL. 
 
 349 
 
 between subject and object. There are modes of state- 
 ment in Schelling as there are in Fichte, which would 
 seem to indicate that they had a presentiment of the 
 abstraction involved in the procedure which they had 
 inherited from Kant. But these were not strong enough 
 to alter the fundamental character of their systems. Their 
 ultimate principle remained self-consciousness, that is, 
 not the Ego, but the Ego's consciousness of itself. They 
 were formal, and abstractly Idealistic. 
 
 The principle which Fichte and Schelling were vaguely 
 cognisant of, but the real bearing of which they failed to 
 grasp, was seized by Schopenhauer, and placed in the fore- 
 front of his philosophy under the name of WiU. We do 
 not of course mean to imply that Schopenhauer was led to his 
 principle by a systematically reasoned-out conception of the 
 defect of his predecessors, or that it adequately supplies 
 those defects. Schopenhauer was more the man of letters 
 than the exact thinker, and his " Will-to-live " was rather a 
 i>oetical expression than a result arrived at by any strict 
 process of analysis ; but his system embodies unmistakably 
 among other things a protest against formalistic Idealism. 
 This explains the favour witli which he regards aU 
 materialistic views of the universe. Schopenhauer felt that 
 in pure thought, considered per «e, there was no dynamic 
 principle; that the categories of consciousness, even the 
 highest, did not of themselves constitute reality, but pre- 
 supposed a matter— a subject— of which they were the 
 determinations. Essentially the same revolt against the 
 foniialism of the thinkers in the direct line of development 
 from Kant underlies, as w© take it, the system of Herbai-t 
 The consciousness of the purely formal nature of thought 
 per «e, it is only fair to remember, also underlies Kant's own 
 distinction between Sense and Understanding. The ele- 
 ment of feeling was to Kant as necessary to the constitu- 
 tion of Keality as thought itself. It is also expressed 
 in his distinction between Thing-in-itself and Phenomenon, 
 at least in one of its aspects. 
 
 The encyclopedic mind of Hegel, with its Titanio 
 grasp of method, could hardly be oblivious of the fact 
 we are here pointing out, leaving its track, as it does, 
 throughout the whole history of Philosophy. But Hegel 
 
 evades, in his own case, the obviousness of the formal 
 
 nature of the standpoint he occupies in common with his 
 
 predecessors, at least as regards the working-out of hia 
 
 system by his dexterous manipulation of terminology. 
 
 But it only requires the most cursory glance to see that 
 
 the taint of Idealistic formalism pervades the whole 
 
 I) Hegelian construction. With Hegel, the Concept or the 
 
 Idea— pure consciousness— is the totality of the Real. I his 
 
 alone is the sharpest and most distinct pronouncement of 
 
 Thought as the prim of the world-order. The way m 
 
 which Hegel covers up his formalism is ingenious, but 
 
 hardly convincing. Let us take as an instance, the passages 
 
 on page 29 of the * Encyclopedia,' where Hegel defines 
 
 the E"-o as " the universal in and for itself; " and again 
 
 • as " pure self-reference," " the abstract universal " *' the 
 
 abstractly free," &c. Hegel here refers to the synthetic 
 
 unity of apperception, the universal form— consciousness, 
 
 which is, as he insists, formal and abstract ; but in this he 
 
 clearly ignores that from which it is abstracted, the " sell 
 
 of the "reference," the I which determines itself as 
 
 iliinking. . i i * 
 
 In his anxiety to grasp the whatness of experience. He let 
 go the thatness. The Hegelian would, of course, reply that 
 the fact referred to, inasmuch as it represents the possibility 
 of consciousness, that its whole positive determination is 
 exhausted in being the possibiUty of consciousness, it is 
 legitimate to regard merely as one of the momenta of con- 
 sciousness. To this we reply, that such a treatment m- 
 volves hypostasis, a seizure of the formal instead ot the 
 material moment as the primal determinate of the real, 
 which although it matters Uttle in pure speculation, 
 amounting to little beyond a difference of emphasis, 
 has important consequences when earned out m more 
 concrete spheres. The difference may be compared to two 
 lines gradually diverging from one startmg-pomt. At first 
 the space between them is scarcely discernible, but the 
 end shows a wide discrepancy. 
 
 Mere subtle refinement, as it seems, this distinction 
 between the absoluteness of the actual, fcyrmal rrwment, or 
 consciousness itself, and of the possible material moment, 
 or that which is conscious, that which thinks, reappears, as 
 
350 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [Epoch II. 
 
 Epoch n.] 
 
 KANT TO HEGEL. 
 
 351 
 
 already indicated, on another plane in the distinction 
 between the Idealist and Materialist views of the universe. 
 As a natural consequence, the Ethical problem of free-wiU 
 and necessity, of determination from within or without 
 the empirically-conscious personality, hinges largely upon 
 this That man is able consciously to determine his actions 
 is the theory of free-will ; that his empirical conscious- 
 ness merely registers a determination, of which it is not 
 productive, is the doctrine of necessity as now understood. 
 If the real be simply a system of logical determinations 
 alone, if its totality is exhausted in the Logical ; if in its 
 leading momenta, the formal is their determining side ; 
 then the philosophical-theistic, and free-will theory of 
 the Hegelians of the right is established : if on the other 
 hand, consciousness is not creative ; if the Logical neces- 
 sarily involves an alogical element, and it is this alogical 
 element which determines, which is the 8wa/xts m the 
 production of the experienced world, then we have dis- 
 covered the root-meaning of the protest of the left wing 
 of the Hegelian school against the theistic and ideal- 
 istic guise in which the doctrine was presented by the 
 
 conservative side. - t., i -. - 
 
 Hitherto in all synthetic systems of philosophy it is 
 the moment oiform of Imitation, of for-itselfness which has 
 dominated the whole ; it has been made both telos and 
 dynamis. For Plato, it was the Ideas which informed the 
 unreal matter of the sense-world. For Aristotle, again the 
 logos, the entelecheia, was the determining principle of the 
 Hyle, For Hegel lastly the fonnal moment was absolute 
 explicitly ; the Concept was self-existent. 
 
 But from another point of view, the matter may be 
 regarded as self-detennining, and the form as its self- 
 determination ? The hypostasis of the formal moment 
 which has so long dominated the speculative world 
 then disappears. The ultimate principle of "Iheoiy of 
 Knowledge," or philosophy, the science which alone deals 
 with first principles properly so-called, is no longer 
 " Consciousness," or thought as such, but the alogical 
 subject which determines itself as conscious, which is the 
 materia prima of consciousness. A little reflection, we 
 think, will enable the student to see that this initial 
 
 change of attitude shifts (so to speak) our point of view 
 throughout every department of thought The matenal 
 rather than the fom/henceforth becomes the determining 
 moment in the synthesis of all and every reality, 
 
 * Thus nature l8 self-determining and not determined «^fJ[«J^ 
 its mer^foLal moment which constitutee wkat we krm "natural 
 law." ' 
 
 iV 
 
352 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 KECENT AND CURRENT PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ■ ■ o* 
 
 In tMs concluding portion of the handbook, we propose to 
 consider the state of Philosophy during the second half ot 
 the nineteenth century. In doing so we shall pass over 
 lightly those writers whose general influence and impor- 
 tance is secondarj^ in order, to afford more space for the 
 exposition of the views of men who may Ije regarded as in 
 some sense leaders of contemporary^ tliought. 
 
 Since the break up of the Hegelian school, Germany 
 has fallen somewhat into the background in the matter 
 of speculation. Thilosophical literature pours forth 
 abundantly from the press, but it represents for the most 
 part merely the survival or the revival of older standpoints, 
 without exhibiting any new development. The views ot 
 Herbart and of Schopenhauer have met with amplitication 
 and modification at the hands of fluent and able writers. 
 As representative of these may be taken, on the one hand, 
 Von Hartmann, and on the other, Lotze. 
 
 Eduard von Hartmann (l)orn 1842, at Berlin) claims 
 to U the reconcHer of Hegel and Schopenhauer, but 
 is really in all essentials the follower of the latter. 
 In his leading work, * The Philosophy of the Uncon- 
 scious,' Hartmann maintains the Spinozistic thesis of an 
 unconscious Absolute, with the dual attribute of Will and 
 Idea. He rejects the Dialectical method, and claims for his 
 philosophy tlie inductive basis of physical science. " Ac- 
 cording to Hegel," says Hartmann, "only the Logical the 
 Idea is ultimate, while according to Schopenhauer, the 
 Alogical, the Will, is ultimate." The conception of the 
 Absolute, the prius of all reality, as including l)otli Will and 
 Idea, rewnciles the antagonism between them. " It is the 
 great service," as Hartmann thinks of Schelling, " to hav© 
 
 Epoch II.] 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 353 
 
 shown the possibility of a modus vivendi between the two 
 standpoints." Schelling, however, spoilt the fertility of his 
 conception by coquetting with theology, which misled him 
 into fantastic quasi-personifications of these principles. 
 Hartmann will know of no distinction between the method 
 of philosophy and that of physical science : to proceed from 
 the known to its as yet unknown ground of explanation 
 is the true method in both cases. Ilartmanu's exposition 
 of his philosophy falls into three divisions, headed re- 
 spectively, "The phenomenon of the Unconscious in 
 corporeality;" "the Unconscious in the human mindj" 
 and " the metaphysic of the Unconscious." 
 
 In the first two divisions Hartmann seeks to sub- 
 stantiate and illustrate his fundamental assumption in 
 the regions of physiology and pathology ; in the third, 
 in the human mind and in society. The term " Conscious- 
 ness " with Hartmann, as with Schopenhauer, means the 
 empirical consciousness, and hence, like Schopenhauer, 
 Hartmann properly insists on the correlation of conscious- 
 ness with cerel)ral and nervous action. But although 
 conscious activity (in the empirical sense) is inseparable 
 from organic function, tins does not preclude us from 
 regarding unconscious activity of a subjective nature from 
 being the sine qua non of brain-function as of every other 
 material process, which may hence be regarded as its pro- 
 duct. This "unconscious" principle of Hartmann is not 
 to be identified with Schopenhauer's " Will." Schopen- 
 hauer, in proclaiming " Will " tlie prius of the world-order, 
 banished Intelligence, as a primary priiicii)le, altogether 
 from his system. This was the weak point, according to 
 Hartmann, in his doctrine, for Will alone, apart from In- 
 telligence, as the basis of the Real can furnish no rational 
 explanation of the experienced world, nor a fortiori of the 
 final purpose of such a world. In this particular tlie 
 Hegelian doctrine of the Idea or the Eeason, as the ultimate 
 principle of Reality, has the advantage over the doctrine 
 of Schopenhauer ; but Hegel, on his side, is unable to 
 explain the irrational element in the world-order, which 
 he glosses over under the name of cliance. 
 
 The true inductive method which Hartmann claims to 
 Apply to speculation reveals to us, that instinct, i.e. uncon- 
 
354 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 HARTMAXIT. 
 
 355 
 
 scious Will in inseparable combination with unconscious 
 Intellio-ence creates the world : organic and aninial lunc- 
 tions, M-bitrary and reflex motions, sexual love, character 
 genius, language (in its origin), nay, conscious thought and 
 perception themselves, are all redncible to maniiestat ions 
 of an unconscious Will-Intelligence. The form, the adap- 
 tability to its end of the phenomenon, shows us InteJigence ; 
 the phenomenon itself in its <ictivity shows us WilL Ihe 
 coniunction of both, Will, which is per Be unintelligent, 
 and Idea or Intelligence, which is per se powerless, as the 
 dual attribute of one substance, suffices as the sole ground 
 of explanation of the phenomenal world. I he absence ol 
 the principle of Intelligence in Schopenhauer s system 
 prevented his arriving at an explanation of the rationality 
 displayed in the order of tliu world ; the absence of the 
 motive power. Will, prevents Hegel from passing out of 
 the region of the merely logical into tliat of the real or the 
 existent. The conception of the union of W ill and idea, 
 of the realisation of the logical rational Idea by the 
 aloffical non-rational Will, reconciles both systems by 
 supplying the defective element in them, ^ow, according 
 to Hartmann, the rational is real, and the real is rational. 
 The rational and intelligent order in the i cal is expressed 
 in a series of stages. The first is constituted by the 
 simple, attractive and repulsive force-centres, which are 
 the foundation of the corporeal world. 1 hey are the nrst 
 product of tlie will-impregnated Idea, and lorm the tirst 
 rung of the ladder which culminates in the conscious 
 oreanism. Each successive step expresses a victory ol the 
 Idea over tlie Will, of Intelligence over blind impulse or 
 force, of the Logical over the Alogical. 1 he easiest possible 
 way to the attainment of its immediate end is the one 
 chosen by the Idea. Thus nature prefers to bring about 
 improvement in species by " natural selectioii, and tHe 
 " strugcrle for existence," ratlier than to attain the same 
 obiect by a more cumbersome, even though a less wasteful 
 method The goal of this world-evohiti.)ii is the complete 
 **ubiugation of the (non-rational) Will, by the (rational) 
 intelligence. But the complete victory of the Logical over 
 the Alogical presupposes consciousness, and hence the pro- 
 gressive series of being in the order of evolution gravitates 
 
 I, 
 
 towards one point, to the point, viz., where the organism 
 has the conditions of consciousness complete within 
 itself. This completeness is first attained in the human 
 brain and nerve system. Consciousness may be called the 
 final emancipation of the Intelligence or Reason from its 
 bondage to the Will. 
 
 The conscious organism once given, its happiness be- 
 comes henceforth the more or less immediate purpose of 
 the world; but this notion of happiness is an illusion 
 which hides from us the higher and ultimate end of 
 consciousness, which is not human happiness, but the 
 emancipation of tlio world-principle. Here the coinci- 
 dence of Hartmann with Schopenhauer comes into view. 
 To Hartmann, as to Schopenhauer, existence is a huge 
 blunder. The more intelligence grows, the clearer it 
 becomes that the pleasure of the world is vastly out- 
 balanced Ijy the pain ; and this applies alike to the indi- 
 vidual life, and to the life of the race. A crucial instance 
 of it is afforded by a comparison of the amount of pleasure 
 present in the animal which eats, as compared to the 
 amount of pain present in the animal which is eaten. In 
 human history the illusion of the possibility of realising 
 human happiness presents itself in three phases. In the 
 classicMl world hapjdness was believed to be attainable in 
 the present life of the individual. In the Christian world 
 liappiness is believed to be attainalde in a future life of 
 the individual. This belief, which modem science has 
 shattered, is now succeeded by the third phase of the 
 illusion, which conceives happiness as possible in the 
 future of the race. Once this illusion has been lived 
 through, the truth will be ai)i)arcnt ; there will be no 
 room for any furtlier illusion as to the possible realisation 
 of hai)piiiess. The one end will henceforth be Nirvana, 
 though not the Nirvana of Schopenhauer, who takes 
 account of the individual merely, and not of the race. 
 The quietism which Schopenhauer preached is simply a 
 phase of the Christian religious spirit. There is no short 
 jcut to Nirvana, such as Scliopenhauer imagined, attainable 
 )y the individual. The pietistic results of Schopenhauer's 
 [philosophy must be given up for a more extended view, 
 lich shows us the individual as powerless to arrest the 
 
 2 A 2 
 
356 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHT. 
 
 world-proce88, wliieh cxhil.its the act of rcnimcia ion a8 
 broiielit ateut tlironoh tlie desire ot happiness liavmg 
 been? in the natural order of thino-s, rpienclied, not in the 
 individual alone, but throughout all conscious heings 
 
 Even the highest of all pleasures, literary and artistic 
 activity, in this third stage of the illusion into whu^h we 
 are now entering begins to wear itself out. All tends to a 
 low level of mediocrity. The combination of selfishness and 
 sympathy, which sees in the future liappiness «jf tlu3 whole, 
 /rewanl for the sacrifice of individual well-l,eing, wiU 
 have had its day, acconling to llartinann when wealth 
 and comfortable circumstantes-in sh«.rt, all tliat can be 
 effected alike for the race or the individual— is seen to De 
 of no lasting value in producing happiness, and this expe- 
 ririu.- is being made by increasing numbers (p in propor- 
 tion to the spread of civilization. This on the one Imnd^ 
 On the other, the teaching of experience shows us tluit 
 the sum of actual pain in no wise tends to diminish. 
 Side by side with the advance of medical knowloilge, 
 illness, more especially obscure and chronic maladies, 
 increase in greater proportion. Hunger consumes an ever- 
 widening social area with the necessary progress of 
 population. " The most contented peoples are the rude 
 nature races, and of the civilized races, the uneducated 
 classes; with the growing culture of the people, g^ows as 
 experience shows us, discontent."^ AVe must nevertheless, 
 by the force of an invincible and irresistible destiny, press 
 on tdong the road wliich inevitably leads to tlie dispersion 
 of cmr most cherished hope*, to the recognition ot those 
 hoi>e8 as illusions. Nothing will be left then the last 
 illusion having vanished, than the desire for euthanasia, a 
 Bainb>.s extinction. -The Logical," says Hartmanii, 
 ** directs the world-process in the wisest manner towards its 
 iroal— the highest possible development of consciousness 
 ^which, once attained, consciousness suffices to hurl back 
 the whole actual Will into nothingness, whereby at once 
 the procem and tlie world comes to an end without leaving 
 80 much as a fragment behind with whicli a further proces>^ 
 could begin. Thus the Logical constitutes the world r 
 the best possible way that it may most readily attain 
 ©mancipation, and not in one whereby its pam would 
 
 HAETMANN. 
 
 357 
 
 infinitely perpetuated" (Philosophie des TJnhewussten, 3rd 
 
 ed., p. 756). , . . 
 
 We do not propose to attempt any detailed criticism of 
 Hartmann's system. It is vulnerable at a hundred points. 
 ILartmann, nevertheless, has a significance with relation 
 to the development of German speculation, and this 
 significance consists in his having emphasised the dis- 
 tinction already alluded to between the point of view 
 which analyses all experience into logical or positive 
 thought-determinations, and that which sees in the 
 alogical an element of prior necessity to the logos. This 
 is the point from which Hartmann's metaphysic starts. 
 But his system exhibits a hopeless confusion betw^een the 
 spheres of "Theory of Knowledge," Physics, and Meta- 
 physics, which inevitably leads to a fantastic semi-theo- 
 sophical treatment of the problem. His initial rejection 
 of the dialectical metliod and nahe announcement of the 
 attainment of speculative results, according to tlie method 
 of natural science, many will think, puts the subse- 
 quent construction out of court at once, so far as serious 
 criticism is concerned. The " Philosophy of the Uncon- 
 scious," aiMl indeed, more or less, all Hartmann's works are 
 without don 1 1 suggestive, and apart from tlieir readable 
 style, they will \-ell repay perusal. Hartmann's pessimism, 
 which hits d.seended straight from Schopenhauer, with, 
 however, the not unimportant modification already men- 
 tioned, is one of the most natural literary exjiressions of the 
 effete civilization of an age of transiti(ni. This comes out 
 more especially when Haytmann criticises the present order 
 of society witii its dull level of mediocrity and growing 
 inequality of social conditi(.ns, as though it represented 
 the liiial stage of liuman ])rogress. A part at least of his 
 argument in the chai.ter on the third stage of the illusion, 
 rests u[K)n the assumption that the present l)asis of society 
 is necessarily permanent. Hartmann sees that things 
 i)erforce ten<l fr<un bad to worse, proceeding on current 
 lines, but lie ignores the possilulity of a fundamental 
 change in the constitution of society, and therefore of 
 human life generally. The all-degrading black coat of 
 the Bourgeois, covering, as it does, a mental and physical 
 constitution, sodden by profit-mongering in its various 
 
358 MODERN PHILOSOniY. 
 
 ..J *■ arxAiYi tn occur to Hartmann, may 
 
 niiacoa if does not seem wj i^/*^"* . -, r „„!L 
 
 phases, it aoes, i.j no,siniism as it does lor many 
 
 possibly account for I'f ^^^''?;^^^ ^^^^ ^f the universe 
 
 Uer things; and ff*P«,^^7*i^*toid, together with the 
 may pass away as a tale that M torn, » ^ 
 
 afore^id black-coated creature whom h^p^^ 
 
 the sign and symbol of universal mediocrity. 
 
 KUBOLPH HEKM.N. LoTZE (born M'^y.^l 1817 died J„ly 
 i„t i«8n Tfiiiresents another phase oi dogmatic redLuou 
 '• f ?i,r^f,nnXm of Hog"!- J««t ^ Hartmanns 
 against the f"™."^^';^' ' out of the doctrines of Schopen- 
 f ^'rL U.e' marto^on idlred as related to those of 
 H^Kttugh tTeUiection is, perhaps, not so close in 
 
 *'l!.tre,rti;:iytl!:SsTe-^ -^ aU 
 
 were the eaiiiehi., liujuj^ii. i-a . . j 
 
 important, it is uecessary to bear in n^md that ^ « --^ 
 
 was e»««"t.ally douUe^^^^^^^^^^ iyTctl science, he had an 
 reverence for the mt««d^oU^uy ^^^. _j.^^ ^^^^ ^^ose 
 
 artistic side .^''''^ \''";7, ^he folic Aving statement of 
 methods conBidere<l as hi.al. J^''^ ,'"'',., J?, t ^^g « ^^ the 
 
 his position ^^^^^?f^Z^'^S^ni^ 
 • Encyclopaidia l^'^.^tani ica, Jtn eu ^^ ^ 
 
 of philosophy IS given says "« ^ ^l^^'' ^ ,,^ existed 
 sition of logic has f tab ished ^^M. nt^^«. tUo ^^^ 
 
 ;,. ..Ill- TTiiTid of eertaiii laws aiiu lonnN aLcuiuiii^ ^yj 
 m our i"iii;i ^^ ';^:,...:.,i HiipDlied tn us by our senses, and. 
 we connect the mateiiai supiuiwi ,.:;^„„x i... risefuUv 
 
 n +i.r. faof +lvit loiTical tnoni:^lit cannot oe uBuiunjr 
 secomUy, the fact that loM^ao ^^^ ^^^ 
 
 employed -'th.mt the a^sump^ou ^^^^^ ^ ^^.^^ 
 
 connexions "f 1"-\V''"> ""'^^-"J, ^i observation. Thefie 
 
 between the d"*;;^;;' ''Xrarch ract.^ are handed to us 
 connexions of a real, not loimai, *-"'*'■' , r,,lture of 
 
 by the separate sciences, and by «»«"«'«" ''''^, "'""'? ?„ 
 evemlay life. Language has crysta lli..ed them into cwtain 
 definite notions ai.d expressions, without which we <^unot 
 t a sin" ■ st,.p, but which we have accepted without 
 growing their ex^ct meaning, much less their origin. 1b 
 
 \ 
 
 LOTZE. 
 
 359 
 
 I 
 
 consequence tlie special sciences and the wisdom of common 
 life entangle themselves easily and frequently in contra- 
 dictions. A problem of a purely formal character thus 
 presents itself, viz. this— to try to bring unity and 
 harmony into tlie scattered thoughts of our general culture ; 
 to trace them to their primary assumptions and follow 
 them to their ultimate consequences ; to connect tliem ail 
 together ; to remodel, curtail, or amplify them, so as to 
 remove their ;i|.parcnt contradictions, and to combine them 
 in the unity of an harmonious view of things, and especially 
 to make those conceptions from which the single sciences 
 start as assumptions the object of research, and fix the 
 limits of their appliealnlity. This is the formal definition 
 of philosophy. Whether an harmonious conception tiius 
 gained will represent more than an agreement among our 
 thouo-hts, whether it will represent the real connexion of 
 things, and thus possess objective not merely subjective 
 value, cannot be decided at the outset. It is also un- 
 warranted to start with the expectation that everything 
 in the M'orld should be explained by one principle, and it 
 is a ncfdless restriction of our means to expect unity ot 
 
 method." . . ^ 
 
 Lotze's metaphvsic starts with an examination ot 
 causality, and tlic categories, in accordance with his deti- 
 nition of metaidiysics, as the same which has for its objects 
 of investigation those conceptions and propositions which 
 in ordinary life aild in the s]»ecial sciences are applied 
 as i)rinciples of investigation. It is divided into Ontology, 
 Cosmology, and Phenomenology. ^^ . ^^ .1 i • 
 
 In entering upon the third division of his ]Mothaphysic, 
 Lotze ^ays(Gnuidzufje der Metaphjslc, § 26) : - Ontologicalhf^ 
 we have spoken of the * essence and states of the existent, 
 without being able to indicate wherein they either of them 
 properly consisted. Cosmohgicalh/, we have assumed that 
 from tiice unknown reciprocal ctllcts of things proceeds 
 for us the perceptive world of phenomena. Finally, at the 
 close of the Cosmology, roquirements of the mind have 
 made themselves apparent which presumably are only to 
 be satisfied by an insight into the real nature of the things 
 which cc.nstitutes that which the formal conditions ut 
 Ontology and Cosmology demand. Kow the inner states 
 
 I 
 
360 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 DUHRING. 
 
 361 
 
 of all other things are impenetrable by ns ; only those of 
 our own mml which we regard as one of tht'>e (ssiiKts do 
 we immediately experience. The hope arises to learn by 
 this example what properly constitutes tha positive essence 
 of other things. We miglit therefore term the last 
 section of the Metaphysic as hitherto ' I'yschology,' were 
 it not that the soul is only of essential interest to us here 
 in so far as it is the suliject of knowledge." 
 
 In spite of his repudiation of Herlwrtianism, there is no 
 thinker from wliom Lotze has borrowed more than from 
 Herbart. The method ibrmulated by Lotze, that of the 
 reduction of conceptions to distinctness and consistency, 
 is alm< >st identical with tliat of llerbart. Tlio extreme 
 pluralism of Jlerbart is indeed abandoned in favour of 
 what is in essence, a kind of Spinozistic Monism, tliough 
 it sul»se(|uently assumes the regulation theistie guise led 
 up to l>y " the idea of the Good." As its result Lotze's 
 Metaphysic gives three ultimate ideas, "(1) that of one 
 Injimie essence, to whose necessity the ontology jioints ; 
 CI) that which we have developed in britif that all true 
 reeditij is possible only in the form of spirituality ; (3) the 
 one just indicated, although |)roperly-speaking indemon- 
 strable by metiiphysie itself, that tlie higliest ground for 
 the determination of the world and of our metaphysical 
 thoughts thereupon must be sought in the idea of the 
 hi'jhest good" 
 
 " The union of tliese three propositions," continues 
 Lot7.e, *' gives the result that the substantial ground of 
 the world is an intelligence wliose essence our eognition can 
 only indicate as the living actual good. Everything finite is 
 the action of tliis infinite. Keal beings are tliose of its 
 actions which it continuously maintains as the active and 
 passive centres of out-and-in- going effects ; and their 
 *reality,' that is the relative independence accruing to them, 
 consists not in a * being outside the infinite' (which no 
 definition can make clear), but only therein that they 
 are for themselves as spiritual elements ; this for-itselfness 
 is the real in that wiiicli we inadequately formulate as 
 
 * l>eing outside the infinite.' What we ordinarily call 
 
 * things' and * events,* are the sum of those otlier actions 
 which the highest principle in all minds carries out in 
 
 1 
 
 so systematic and orderly a connection that this must 
 appear to constitute a spacial world of substantial and 
 active tlungs. But the meaning of the universal la>ys 
 in aceor.laiK.^ with which the infinite mmd proceeds in 
 the creation, maintenance, and regulation of this apparent 
 worhl of things are conseciuences of the idea ol the good 
 in which its nature consists." {Grundzurje der Metaphysic, 
 
 ^ The physiological researches of Lotze it is which have 
 {riven him his position in the world of thought There is 
 little tliat is original in the purely plulosophical side of his 
 speculation, which, after all is said, amount to no more 
 in the last resort than a quasi-Leil)nitzian Theism, dressed 
 UP with results derived from Fielite, Schelling, and Hegel 
 (albeit the snerulative method by winch those results are 
 obtained, and in the light of which they alone possess 
 meaning is rejected), and last, but not least of Herbart. 
 Tlie cleverness witli wliich these ideas, derived Irom 
 different systems, are pieced together and the whole made 
 to ac(iuire plausibility by being dexterously interwoven 
 with the results of the latest scientific research, has sufficed 
 to "ive the systi-m a certain importance, which it would 
 not Otherwise ^.ossess, in current philosoplncal literature. 
 The best short account of Lotzi; is that given by Lrdmann 
 at the close of the second volume of his history. 
 
 Amonn- othor representatives of current German philo- 
 soDhymavbrui.-utionedEuGKN DiJiiKiN.;, whnsr stan^lpomt, 
 that of a sonirvvliatcrude materialism, is worked out in his 
 Cursus der Philosoplue. Diihring attaches a high value to 
 Tomte and reuerl»aeh as well as to Buckle and the 
 Eno-lish empirical thinkers, with tlie exception of Herbert 
 Sponeer, for whom he has a proiound contempt. 
 
 The law of identity is the ultimate hiw ol all rca ity. 
 (This is of ccmrse aim'ed at the Hegelians.) It is a fallacy 
 to regard the conceptions of universality and law as ex- 
 chan.-'eable; an individual fVict may have the notion_ ot 
 law or nreessity attacliing to it. Diihring is an Atomist. 
 The atom is tlie ultimate real. The comideinentary 
 i.rincipli- to matter in the constructmn of reality is that 
 Lf change and permanence. For the cause of the primal 
 
362 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 origin of motion or change in material substance, science 
 is at present unable to offer any satisfactory account ; this 
 is the task for Mechanics in the future. Antagonistic 
 motion is the sole method of progress. Diihring would 
 explain all phenomena on strictly mechanical principles. 
 Like all other cosmic processes, feeling is reducible to the 
 opposition of forces ; all feeling involves a sense of resis- 
 tance. In sense-perception nature, so to say, repeats her- 
 self, hence the natural assumption that perception corre- 
 sponds to objectivity is justified. What the feelings are 
 for knowledge, the emotions are for action. It is not, 
 however, in his philosoi)hy proper that such importance 
 as Diihring po^ s is to be Ibund ; but rather in his 
 criticism of society and in his insights into the future, in 
 which he has borrowed largely from Marx and Lasalle, 
 whom he at the same time attacks for their Hegelianism. 
 
 We must not omit to notice also the eminent author of 
 the History of Materialism, Friedrich Albert Lange 
 (1828-1875). Lange's great work falls into two divisions, 
 Materialism before Kant, and modern Materialism. The 
 first is divided into four sections, wliich treat respectively 
 of antiquity, the transition period, the seventeenth century, 
 and the eighteenth ccutury. In tlio first of these Lange 
 explains how tlie earliest pliilosopical attempts necessarily 
 led to a materialism, of which the highest development 
 was in the theory of Bemokritos, who undoubtedly gave 
 expression to soine of the most iiii|K)rtant doctrines of 
 modern science. The com|)lementary antithesis to materi- 
 alism in antiquity Lange tiiids in the sceptical sensualism 
 of Protagoras. These are alike opi)Osed to the Sokratic- 
 Platonic philosophy. This portion of the work contains 
 much valual>le and interesting criticism. The second 
 section, which dfals, beside, with the attitude of the three 
 monotheistic religions to ^Materialism, shows the essentially 
 antipathetic nature of the Aristiitelian philosophy, to the 
 pure empiricisui of natural scimcc, which latter indeed 
 only became possible, on tlie fall of Aristotelian ism from 
 the supniiiacy it lu'l<l <luriiig the middle ages. The third 
 section treats of fiasscndi and IIol»bes as the fathers of 
 modern Materialism, and of their intluence on the empiricist 
 
 LANGE. 
 
 363 
 
 movement in England ; also of the devleopment of the 
 Cartesian mechanical theory of the universe on the conti- 
 nent, into the thorough- going Materialism of La Mettrie 
 and his successors. This last is dealt with in the fourth 
 section of the first book, whieli also contains Lange's state- 
 ment of his own position towards ^Materialism. While 
 acknowledging the materialistic attitude to be the only 
 one compatible with the true scientific view of the universe, 
 he finds its weak point in the non-recognition of the fact 
 that the scientific aspect of things is not the only one, but 
 that there are other ways of envisaging the universe which 
 if ignored make man one-sided. 
 
 The second book treating of the history of Materialism 
 since Kant, is also arranged in four sections, the first deal- 
 ing with Kant himself and his relation to Materialism, 
 together with the post-Kantian materialists, Feuerbach, 
 Moleschott, Buchner, Ozolbe, d'c, in the course of which 
 Lange clearly shows Kant to be the dividing line which 
 has cut off the possibility of any return to the old naive 
 Materialism of the last century. The second section is 
 concerned more particularly with the questions raised by 
 recent scientific research. "^The result arrived at is that 
 while we have to thank ^Materialism for the banishment 
 of the notions of miracle and arbitrariness from nature, 
 and for its deliverance of men from the fear of super- 
 natural powers and agencies; that notwithstanding, its 
 central positive dogma of the absoluteness of corporeal 
 substance cannot stand in face of the {ulvances of modern 
 thought alike in physic and nietaphysic. The law of the 
 persistence of force is altogether incorapatil)le with the 
 dogmatic side of materialism. Johannes Midler's researches 
 into the physiology of the senses bring us back from a 
 standpoint of physical science to the essentially ineta- 
 piiysical result, that the sense-world, our own body of 
 course included, is only a product of our sense-organisa- 
 tion. The latter jiortion of the work contains an able 
 criticism of the current ix.litieal economy. Lange strongly 
 deprecates the tendency to confound truth in the sense of 
 mere tlieoretical trutli with worth or desir;ibility. Man 
 lias not only tlie inq)ulse to attain to trutli, but also to 
 the '--ood in the sense of the wortht'ul in-itself. Kant's 
 
364 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 COMTE. 
 
 365 
 
 Ideas are an instance of confusion between these two 
 essentially disparate things. 
 
 Our notice *>f Lange's hook, one which is perhaps more 
 widely read than any other plulosophical work in Genuany 
 at the present time, and which has been translated into 
 most European langua«;es, aptly closes our brief sketch of 
 current German philosophical literature, since the philo- 
 BOphical activity of Germany at the present time signalises 
 itself rather in the dej)artment of historical research than 
 in that of constructive thought. The names of Kuuo 
 Fischer, of Erdmann, of Urterweg, of Zeller, and many 
 more, now living or l-ut recently dead, that is well-nigh all 
 the most imp(»rtant German philosophical writers of the 
 present day, illustrate this remark. This tendency of 
 German philosoi>hieal thought to turn for its aliment to 
 historical studies is by no means an unmixed evil, if an 
 evil at all. The time lias passed, if indeed it ever was, 
 when independent tliouglit was of itself almost sufficient 
 for seriou:-} and lasting jihilosophical work. Henceforward 
 every new de]»arture or development in philosophy must 
 not merely talce casual account of, l)ut be consciously based 
 on, the general evolution of philosophy in the past. He 
 who aspires to l>e a serious thinker and neglects the 
 history of philoso|>hy seals the fate of his work. For this 
 reason the researcli of the Germans into the history of 
 philosophy is a necessary element in the future j)rogress of 
 philo80i»Iiy. We now leave Germany t(j consider the 
 recent and current movement of pliilosophy in France and 
 England. 
 
 The French as a nation have never been remarkable for 
 originality in speculative thought, setting aside one or two 
 noteworthy exceptions, of which Descartes is the most 
 striking. As a result, there is only one modern French 
 thinker who will fall within the seojieof the present work, 
 and he not so much because of liis originality as on 
 account of his relations to contemporary English thought 
 and of the influence he has exercised directly or indirectly 
 on the average ** cultured " Englishman of the present 
 generation. Tlie thinker referred to is Auguste Comte. 
 Comte was born at Montpellier in 17*J8, and died at Paris 
 
 in 1857. Originally a disciple of Saint-Simon the most 
 Lrnea and .^^igin^ of the Utopian-Sociahst thmken. of 
 the first half of the Present century ( omte sjk^^^^^^^ 
 and social speculations bear the ^^;^^'\^-^=f ^^^;^\ ^^f^^^^^^^^^^ 
 their original, thougli it may be ^f ^^^ ;^^'^^^'^f / f ^"" 
 this has-been improved by ^^^^^^^''^^"^ ;*ir=^.^^; J^,^^^ 
 undergone. The philosophical side ot Tositi ism, as 
 Comte designated his system, consists in a classihcation ot 
 the inatliematical and natural scieiices am a ^J^f" 
 sation of the conclusions ot scientific metho.l. ihe net 
 result is not altogether unlike the ^^stem ot Heged in- 
 verted. The great p.>lemic of the Phlosophe Positwe is 
 against what Comte terms ilie metaphysical fl^^t aiid 
 metaphvsical entities, but which, translate<l into other 
 S:SSs are simply tlie hypostasized abstractK^l^I^ 
 to the abstract-dogmatic phase of thought. Ihis is all 
 Ihat is meant by the second of the three stages through 
 which Auguste Comte claims the human mind to pass 
 
 The pamllel l>etween Conit« and Hegel, ,just referred to, 
 has been noticed elsewhere. ; It is worthy of remark 
 says Mr. Shadworth- Hodgson (' Time ;'-! ^P^):;^ P'J^^^ 
 ei seqX "that there are many points ^{^ff^}f''^^ 
 V>etween the Logic of Hegel, the protagonist of Ontology 
 and the FhilosolUe Positive of Comte, the protagonist of 
 Positivism. iniere is first the similarity ot Hegel s 
 Absolute Mind and Comte's Vrai Grand Etre^ or Humanity, 
 each of which is the concomitant result, if I may so speak 
 of the evolution of the worid-history ; each ot which is 
 x^rsonified as a single individual ; and each ot which is 
 tirXe(-t of divine honours; and these three points of 
 sh^ikrity suppose several minor ones. Then agam, there 
 Tthe 1 roore iion ]>y triplets in Hegel, in which the first 
 miri^ the an sid, tile last t^ie an -^^;,-^;^-^^^ 
 middle tli- transiti(m between them ; while the last stage, 
 when rea.-hed, throws back light ui)on the nature of both 
 The previous stages, not understood before they had pro- 
 duced tlu'ir results. To this answers Comte s doctrine of 
 a^ple stage in the actual history of all development, the 
 middle of which is but a transitional -^^;^^fj'^^ 
 be iudged of till the last stage has been reached lor which 
 it was a preparation; for instance, m the fields ot the 
 
366 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 intellectual, the active, and tKe affective functions of man, 
 three stages may lie observed: in the first, the fictive, the 
 abstract, and the pisitive stage ; in the second, the con- 
 quering, the defensive, and the industrial ; and in the 
 third, tlie domestic, the civil, and the universal." Poli- 
 tique Posiiim, vol. 4, chap. iii. p. 177. And again ('Time 
 and Space; pp. 401-2), Mr. Shadworth-Iiodgscii continues : 
 " Both writers, each from his own point of view, and in 
 his own half of the world, move round the same centre ; 
 for the principle which they share is the central truth of 
 their two systems. This truth in Hegel is, that the 
 universe can only be described, analysed, and known 
 within itself. In the Phlh.mpJiie Positive, the ruling 
 thought, as exhibited in the Law of the Three States and 
 elsewhere, is, that the search after causes is vain, and is 
 superseded hy the search after laws. In other words, 
 analyse the order of co-existence and the order of sequence 
 of phenomena within the world of phenomena, but seek 
 no cause for any of them that is not itself a phenomenon. 
 Both conceptions arc tlie same, namely, to keep within 
 phenomena, to analyse their order and interdei>endence, 
 and to abstain from" going beyond or seeking the Why of 
 the universe; instead of this, to seek only for the 
 necessary or universal antecedents of particular objects, as 
 parts of the whole. A diflerence k-tween tliem there is, 
 and a wide one, namely, that this mode of philosophising 
 is in Comte a renunciation of an attempt as useless, while 
 in Hegel it is a claim to have succeeded in that attempt, 
 the attempt to seize the Absolute. Look only for laws 
 and not for causes, say they both ; philosopliy is the dis- 
 covery of laws and not nf causes ; the absolute is not to be 
 seized, remain within your fixed limits. But wliy is the 
 absolute not to he seized? With Hegel because it has 
 'been seized already, is defined, and contains all causes 
 within it ; with Comte, because it cannot be seized at all, 
 and we must content ourselves without causes. Equally 
 however in both cases is the search for cause given up."* 
 
 ♦ While quoting tlie above pasaapres as expressing? an undoubted 
 parallel between the two thinkers in qiies-tion, the prebcnt writer must 
 not be understood aa accepting every statement contained in them. 
 
 COMTE. 
 
 S67 
 
 • 
 To this may be added that even Comte's polemic against 
 what he calls materialism, that is the exphmation of the 
 phenomena of a higher plane of nature by those of a 
 lower, e.g. the treatment of social phenomena on physio- 
 logical principles alone, or of vital phenomena on chemical 
 principles, and so on, has its parallel in the potences of 
 Schelling and the determinate momenta of the Natur- 
 philosophie of Hegel. 
 
 Comte's law of the three stages with which the Positive 
 Philosophy opens is as follows : " That each of our leading 
 conceptions— each branch of our knowledge— passes 
 successively through three different theoretical conditions : 
 the Theological, or fictitious ; the Metaphysical, or 
 abstract ; and the Scientific, or positive. In other words, 
 the human mind, by its nature, employs in its progress 
 three methods of phnosopliisiiig, the character of which is 
 essentially different, and even radically opposed, viz. the 
 theological, the metaphysical, and the positive method. 
 Hence arise three philosophies, or general systems of concep- 
 tions on the aggregate of phenomena, each of which excludes 
 the others. The first is the necessary point of departure of 
 the human understanding ; and the third is its fixed and 
 definite state. The second is merely a state of transition " 
 rComte's ' Positive Philosophy,' Martineau, vol. i. pp. 1-2). 
 The employment of the word metaphysical to denote the 
 second of these stages is entirely arbitrary. The originality 
 and importance of the doctrine itsolf has moreover l^een 
 greatly exaggerated. Students of Hegel will be familiar 
 with the truth embodied in the conception, although 
 otherwise expressed. In tlie first of tlie three stages, the 
 modifications\)f phenoniena are referred to the arbitrary 
 will of a being or l)eings l)elieved to be present in or 
 ruling over those plieuomeiia ; in the second of the three 
 stages, the cause of tlie i>lieiiomena and their modifications 
 is referred to certain proi)erties inherent in bodies, but 
 which are abstracted fn.m the body or whole to which they 
 belong, and conceived as distinct entities or powers acting 
 upon that body independently. The third, the so-called 
 positive or scientific stage, abandons the search for causes 
 which had characterised the two previous stages, and 
 restricts itself to the endeavour to discover the law, that 
 
3G8 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 COMTE. 
 
 369 
 
 ife the order of Biiccession and co-existence obtaining 
 within the various groups or departments of natural 
 
 phenomena. 
 
 According to Angiiste Comte, all sciences have reached 
 the positive stage, to a greater or less extent according to 
 the complexity or simjilicity of their snbject-matter, with 
 the exception of the last and most complex of them all, the 
 ficience of man considcrcil as a social and a moral being. 
 Of this last science, as a science, he claims to have been the 
 founder, and to it he gives the name of Suclidojij, Comte 
 had inherited from Saint-Simon the idea that all mere 
 theoretical knowledge, and indce<l all special departments 
 of human activity wliattver, sliould be sultordinate to one 
 great practical end; the reurganihatiun of human life and 
 society. This it is only fair to rememlier was the goal he 
 set before him from the first, and to this goal, there can be 
 no doubt, he meant all his scientific work to lead. Hence 
 the filiation of the sciences in tlie form of a hierarchy 
 culminating in Sociology, and hence the importance 
 attached to the elal)oration of the latter science. The 
 positive method hitherto had been confined in its appli- 
 cation to special groups or orders of phenomena, in other 
 words, the separate sciences, without tliuse sciences ever 
 having been co-ordinated into a whole or c(^mplete philo- 
 sophy in accordance with that method. This co-ordination 
 it is the aim of the Positive Pliilosophy to accomijlish. 
 Tlie key to the arrangement of the sciences Comte finds 
 in the notions, (1) tliat the order of scientific study 
 follows the order of phenomena; and (2) that the more 
 special and complex phenomena depend upon the more 
 general and simple. The most general facts will therefore 
 be the first that \\-ill 1k3 studied, and the first to reach 
 perfection as regards their formulation, i.e. the positive 
 method. The hierarchy following these principles is ar- 
 ranged thus: Mathematics, Astronomy, Physics, Chemistry, 
 Biology, and Sociology; eacdi step in this arrangement 
 involves something specially its own over and above that 
 involved in the previous step. It shoidd Ije premised 
 that Comte makes a primary distincticjn between abstract 
 and concrete sciences ; the first (science proi)er) with which 
 the hierarchy is alone concerned, treats of the abstract 
 
 relations or general laws of the various groups of pheno- 
 mena, the second with the history or description of the phe- 
 nomena themselves, and with the special application of 
 those laws. 
 
 The Fh{los"phie Positive is comprised in six volumes, of 
 which the first three treat of the simpler or inferior 
 sciences, and the last three of Sociology, which, as we have 
 said, it is the great aim of xlugnste Comte to establish on 
 a positive, that is, inductive, l)a8is. The law of the three 
 states and the conception of the liierarchy of the sciences 
 together constitute the framework cf the Comtian system. 
 The one sIhjws us the necessary course of human know- 
 ledge ; the other the necessary dependence of phenomena, 
 and brings the phenomena of human society as much 
 under the domain of law as those of Chemistry or Physics. 
 This does not mean with Comte, that social phenomena 
 can 1)6 adequately treated on the methods of any of the 
 lower sciences; on the contrary, he especially insists on 
 eacli science liaving its own special logic, terming the non- 
 recognition of this fact— the treatment of a higher science 
 on the methods of a lower— materialism ; all he means is 
 tlat .social science is inii)ossi1jle apart from Biology, that 
 this {i;;ain presupposes Chemistry, while Chemistry pre- 
 supiMjses Physics, &c. ; the whole series of the sciences 
 resting on the fundamental laws of number, proportion, 
 magnitude, &c., that is, on Mathematics. 
 
 Having given a brief view of the general principles on 
 which Positivism rests, we propose to say a few words, 
 first on Conite's view of liistoric evolution and afterwards 
 on tlie scheme of social reconstruction, in the elaboration 
 of whicli tlie later period of his career was occupied. 
 The fundamental idea of Comte's philosophy of history 
 is the coincidence of the first or theological stage of the 
 hunian mind with a military state of society. This, on 
 passing into what Comte terms tlie metaphysical stage, is 
 accom]>aniod by a conflict l.et\ve»*n tlie military and the 
 industrial sj^irit, which last is tlie social expression of the 
 final stage, tlie positive or scientific. Briefly expressed, 
 the division is into ollensive militarjdsm, defensive 
 militaryism, and in<lustry. The key to Comte's theory of 
 history is thus to be found in his law of the three stages, 
 
 2 b 
 
370 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 from which it is further obYious that he regards the cardinal 
 factor in human developm.ut (a P''^^\!^\ ?^^^^^^^ Jj^ 
 doubtable founder of P08iuvi«m IS m ^^^^^^ ^ J^JJ;^^ 
 much decried " metaphysical thinkers of the eighteenth 
 century) to U man's intellectAial side. ^..- ^.^ 
 
 "Though the elements ot our social evolution are 
 connected and always acting on each other, one mu«t be 
 preponderant, in order to give an ^J^P^^^^^ Z^:*^' ^ /"'*; 
 though they may, in their turn, so act upon it as to cause 
 tT fi^rtherW--on. We must find out tins superior 
 element, leaving the lower degrees of ^^^J^^f^^ ^ 
 disclose themselves as we proceed; and we ha^ e not to 
 search far for this element, as we cannot err m taking tnat 
 which can be best conceived of apart from the i^t, not- 
 withstanding their necessarj^ connection while the con- 
 sideration of it would enter into the «f^^y;'V^^^^,^|^;;^- 
 
 This double characteristic points out ^lie intellect ae^^^^ 
 lution as the preponderant prmciple. If t^ie intellectual 
 point of view was the chief in our statical study of the 
 ^ganism, much more must it be so in the dynamical case^ 
 If" ,ur reason required at the outset the awakening ad 
 stimulating influence of the appetites, the V^^^'!'''^^ J^^. 
 the sentiments, not the less has liuman progression gone 
 forward under its direction. It is only ^lirough the more 
 and more marked influence of the reason over the general 
 conduct of Man and of society, that the gradual h^«^^-<-'1^ <^^J^^^ 
 race has attained that regularity and persevering ^ontointy 
 which distinguish it so radically from the desultoiv and 
 barren expansion of even the higlicst of the animal orders, 
 which share, and with enhanced strength, the appetites, 
 the passions, and even the primary sentiments ot Man 
 (Comte's ^Positive Philosophy,' Martineau, vol. ii. p. lo6). 
 ^ After stating the principles ot the b<)W «cienc^ Comte 
 proceeds to give a sketch of historic evolution m the h£^ 
 of these principles. The theo ogical and nnhtary systen 
 already iK-ins with the primitive stage ot nni er^ 
 fetichism in which every object is persoiatied or ^i^^^^^^ 
 with will. Its immediate develoimient is the ascendency 
 
 oP star-worship (astrolatiT) merging "^t*\ Pf/^'^f ""'l^^Jn 
 most perfect typ« of whicli is t^o be found in the tbeocratio 
 civilisations of the East, which represent its first phase, 
 
 COMTE. 
 
 371 
 
 and of which the ancient Egyptian civiliBation may 1)6 
 taken as a model. In the second phase presented in the 
 earlier classical civilisation of Greece, we have what Comte 
 terms an intellectual polytheism. No priestly caste exists 
 Buch as in Egypt. As a consequence, intellectual activity 
 has a free outlet. In the third or Koman period, that of 
 the later classical polytheism, we have a civilisation m 
 wliicli militaryism is supreme, and conquest the all-power- 
 ful motive-power, and not as in Greece a mere co-ordinate 
 faetor in social life, or as in Egypt sul)ordinate to a 
 sacerdotal class. The old polytheism already undermined 
 by the metaphysical thought of Greece, could now no 
 longer offer any resistance to the incursion of Semitic 
 monotheism. The prevailing concei)tion itself even had 
 come to assume in the popular mind a form somewliat 
 analogous to this. "The popular idea of monotheism, 
 says r.)iiite, "closely resembles the latest polytheistic con- 
 ception of a multitude of supernatural beings, subjected 
 directly, regularly, and permanently to the sway of a 
 single will, by wli'icli their respective ofhees are appointed ; 
 and the popular instinct justly rejects as barren the notion 
 of a god destitute of ministers. Thus regarded, the transi- 
 tion,^through the idea of Fate, to the conception of Provi- 
 dence, is clear enough, as effected by the metaphysical 
 
 spirit in its growth." , . , , .-, - • a 
 
 The civilisation in which the new monotheism issued 
 was the feudal-catholic organisation of the middle ages. 
 This, the ideal period of Positivism, is characterised first 
 and foremost by the separation of the spiritual .and 
 temporal powers, which is accompanied by the conversion 
 of slavery into serfdom, by the institution of chivalry, by 
 the domination of morality over polity, &c. With the 
 decline and break-up of mediaeval society commences the 
 transitional era of the " metaphysical spirit " par excellence, 
 which reaches its culmination in the revolutionary philo- 
 Bophv of the eighteenth century, and in the ideas, such as 
 « natural religion," " popular sovereignty," " liberty," &c., 
 characteristic of the revolutionary epoch of which tlio 
 E-reat crisis was the French Revolution, but through whicli 
 wo are still passing. This is destined in its turn to issue 
 in the i>ositive regime^ social, political, and religious, as 
 
372 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOniY 
 
 described in Comte's work, ' The Positive Polity, and ma 
 condensed form in the 'Positivist Catechism, and the 
 * General View of Positivism.' This, as the reader is 
 doubtless aware, has been described as Catholicism rmnua 
 Christianity ; with how much of justice may be gathered 
 
 from what follows. , 
 
 Comte's aim in the constructive portion of his work was 
 to reconstitute Imman life " without God or King * (sans 
 Dieu ni lioi). It has teen alleged by a certain section ot 
 Comte's disciples that there is a ditference of attitude, 
 amounting, indeed, to a change of front, between the 
 eariier and the later sides of Comte's doctrine. An 
 examination of the works themselves will, we think, 
 convince the candid outsider that there is no adeciuate 
 ground for this assertion. In the later works, it is true, the 
 less pleasing sides of Comte's temper and character assume 
 greater prominence than in the eariier. Views which m 
 tiie Phihsophie Poaiiive are expressed with the modesty and 
 reserve of the philosopher, reappear in the Politique Pomhm 
 and other writings, ^longing to this period, with aU the 
 asperity of dogmas pronounced ex cathedra by a pontitt, and 
 to disi>ute which is impious. Comte's religious disciples 
 would probably defend this attitude as becoming the 
 prophet-priest of m new eultua; but that of course is 
 thoir affair. It must also ha remembered that the hypo- 
 thetical construction of a social order must necessarily 
 involve a play of the imagination which would be 
 altogether out of place in what claims to be a scientifio 
 
 exposition. . , 
 
 ( \„nt.' divides this portion of his system into the 
 "worship," the "doctrine," and the ''reftinie" or "mode 
 of life." The worshii. has for its object Humanity 
 considered as a corporate being, past, present, and to 
 come. For this worship, public and private, an elaterate 
 ceremonial is mapped out, rivalling the Catholic ntual. 
 The i»riesthood of the C(»mtian cuUuh are to be entnisted 
 with the fiuictions of teaching and moral exhortation. 
 
 » Xnt as Mr. Bridges renders it on the titlepage of his translation 
 of \hv 'iii-m^rA View of Positivism' (pr.-8umal)ly with a wl.olesomo 
 drea.1 of the British Fhilistiii© before hi« eye^) irrespecUvely of bod or 
 
 Kin;;. 
 
 COMTE. 
 
 S73 
 
 They are to constitute a great spiritual power, resembling 
 the Catholic liicrarchy of the middle a ges,^ but posses- 
 sing neither wealth nor material inflneiu-e. The doctrine 
 taught, the creed of the new religion, consists of course 
 of the Positive Philosophy. The third part, "the life, 
 embraces a descrii)tion of the Comtian social and pohtiwil 
 orrranization which is to be the material basis of tlio 
 whole. Politically the Positivist world is to c<jiis]st ot a 
 commonwealth, at first composed of the five western iiat^K.ns 
 of Europe, though ultimately destined to absorb the whole 
 world. Socially, tlie modern distinction of classes with 
 some modification is to be maintained. The middh- classes 
 are to form a hierarchy on an ascending scale, i)roceeding 
 from the agricultural interest, which is the lo^vest, to the 
 manufacturing interest, thence to the mercantile interest, 
 and culminating in the lianking interest. Outside tins 
 hierarcliv is the bulk of the people, the proletariat together 
 with the women wlio are to l)e rigorously excludetl from all 
 industrial as well as public function, and of course the 
 ]>rl.'stly class. The various minute, and to tlie non- 
 Positivist, exceedingly funny regulations of public and 
 l.rivate conduct, may be perused in the works above 
 
 mentioned. ^ -^ . . . 
 
 As re»'-ards the philosophical side of Positivism, it may 
 be and has l)een criticised from a variety of standpoints. 
 The most important ad hominem criticism is that of the 
 scientific specialist who declares Comte's treatment of the 
 special sciences in the first three volumes of the Phh>mphe 
 Pimtive to display inadejpiate knowledge of the several 
 subjects treate<l, arid a d(»gmatism as to results, wliich was 
 not justified by the then state of those sciences, as is 
 proved by the fact that many of them have failed to stand 
 the test of later research. The hierarchy itself, as laid 
 down by Comte, has l)een severely chfdlenged m various 
 (luarters, and the artificial character of any purely linear 
 arrangement has been more than once pointed out. 
 
 Turnin"- to what many of his disciples think Comte s 
 greatest title to philosophic fame, the foundation and 
 elaV)oration of the science of Sociology, we should begin by 
 denying his claim to originality. Kant cleariy had the 
 conception of such a science, as akeady mentioned (see 
 
374 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOrUY. 
 
 above p. 251); the same may te said of Heivier ; while 
 IS itinctly formulated a sociological A^^l^-^,^^}^^^ 
 workiuK out a philosophy of histoiy on its hues, ihc 
 not'ou.'therefore, of a' continuity between the order ot 
 na ure and that of human s- .. i, ty was cert^mly not new. 
 J„.t as little ori-inal was the notion ot the mam deter- ■ 
 nnnaut of hunuul progress being the ^l^<^^^l;:J;±^_ ^ 
 things; this was the view of the French eighteentn- 
 e ^Sry tliinker, of a Turgot and Condorcet, no less than 
 of the German metaphysician. That there are tue and 
 valuable suggestions to be found n Comte s philo«.phj 
 of history, it'would be unjust to deny ; but ^t w>. dd b. 
 vain to deny that alike its Jundamental principle and 
 much of its working-out belongs to an antiquated method 
 of dealing with history, and will not stand m face of the 
 
 light thrown upon social 'l^'^l^r^"^^' J!',^ t„ a r'^fllv 
 in which, for the first time, we have the clue to a rtallj 
 scientific theory of historical development-a theory which 
 finds the determining factor in progress, to he in economical 
 and social condition rather than in speculative thought- 
 in short, which treats political, religious and social torms 
 as primarily growing out of material conditions, and not 
 
 vice-verm, as in all preceding l>l"l''-r'^'f "^ ^'^'^''/^^ted 
 Having said thus much in derogation of the ex.iggerated 
 
 claims to recognitiou sometimes made on behalt ot Lomta 
 L ..-gards Sociology, it remains to notice the real step he 
 undoubtedly effected ; this consisted in eniphasismg the 
 truth that the highest significance of the ind.vidua is to 
 be found in Society and «/>«•'""■' '"Humanity, ^o one 
 before so distinctly seized the fact of the essential unreality 
 of the individual considered per »e— the fact that lii> end 
 is social. The travesty of this doctrine furnished in the 
 reli<-ious eullus of I'ositivism must not blind us to its 
 
 intrinsic importance. -r^ ... . x \ ^ m^ ^p 
 
 There is one claim made by the Positivists on behalf of 
 their master, which wo think every uon-Comtian ac- 
 quainted with the infurmaticn we possess as to his 
 diaracter will be inclined t.. meet with an unqualihed 
 denial We are asked to admire, and indeed to regan as 
 in etfect a paragcn of moral excellence, the personality 
 of Comte himself as exhibited in his life. Isow we du nut 
 
 COMTE. 
 
 875 
 
 hesitate to say that to most persons who have read Littre's 
 biography of Comte, and are tolerably familiar with the 
 later works, Comte's i>ersonality will apj^ear as an exceed- 
 ingly repulsive one, judged by all ordinary standards. 
 Possessed of a personal vanity so offensive in its manifesta- 
 tions and grotesque in its proportions, as to make us almost 
 pardon it on the ground of disease, a superficial reader might 
 l)e excused for supposing that the one object of the founder 
 of Positivism was its satisfaction. Tliis of course would 
 be an unfair judgment, but the foct remains that before this 
 vanity no relation in life was sacred. After having absorbed 
 the thought of a man of far greater genius, if of less learning 
 and capacity for hard work than himself; a man who had 
 befriended him in liis youth, when he most needed friend- 
 ship, he not only found no difficulty in casting him aside, 
 when hi' saw the way clear for posing as an independent 
 thinker, but with incredible baseness could stoop to vilify 
 his former friend, lest perchance that friend should cany 
 off a scintilla of the merit there wjis in liis own works. 
 A somewhat similar occurrence took place with regard to 
 John Stuart ^Mill, on whose generosity he lived for a 
 considerable time. When Mill found it impossible to 
 continue the assistance he, in conjunction with Grote and 
 Moleswortli, had been affording, all the recognition 
 received w;is a rebuke savouring of the worst type of 
 pretentious charlatanry. These may be old charges, 
 but they have never been satisfiictorily refuted, and 
 the opinion one unavoidably forms of the moral dis- 
 position they indicate is confirmed not only by numl»er- 
 less other small traits (even if we exonerate Comte from 
 all blame in his relations to his wife), but ]>y the tone of 
 many i)assages in the 'Geueial A'iew,' by almost every 
 pa"-o of the ' Catechism,' and by much in the * Corre- 
 spondence.' In this particular instance one may be 
 excused noting these things, since it is by way of protest 
 a"-ainst the attempt that is sometimes made to convert one 
 of the most morally inferi« >r of mortals, into something 
 like an object of adoration. 
 
 The quite theological reverence with which Positivists 
 TC'-ard the scriptures of their ^lessiah is well kiK.wn. 
 Since Auguste Comte wrote, and even since his death, 
 
376 
 
 MODEKN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 advances have been made in science, which to a great 
 extent have revolutionised conclusions accepted during the 
 earlier half of the century. It is not Comto's fault there- 
 fore if there is nnich in the scientific aspects of his doctrine 
 which is hopelessly obsolete. But the same cannot ])e said 
 of certain of his followers, when in their zeal for tho infalli- 
 bility of the sacred text they resent advances in science 
 and even denounce tliose whose names are connected with 
 them. After tliis it can only excite a smile, that Comte 
 having Ijeen gifted witli a particularly Lad literary style, 
 it should be tlie mark of tlio good Tositivist to underrate 
 matters of style in general. 
 
 Positivism, we may remark in conclusion, partakes of the 
 nature of those systems, the inevitable i.roiluct of great 
 periods of transition, which are imperfect assimilations of 
 a new principle, and which appear as hybrids between 
 the existing yet decaying order of tilings and ideas 
 and the new tendencies which are beginning to destroy 
 it, manifesting itself of course in its main strength ( )n 
 the particular side of human affairs on which the pro- 
 gressive movement primarily turns. During tlie j.eriod of 
 the decline of the Koman empire the most prominent aspect 
 of the movement of change was Ethical and Speculative ; 
 its expression being in the Christian religion as opposed 
 to Paganism. Hence we have the Semi-Pagan, Semi- 
 Christian, Gnostic systems and subsciiuently that of 
 Manes, all of which combine elements belonging both to 
 Christianity and Paganism. The dominant aspect of the 
 new tendencies in our present period of transition is more 
 fundamental; it is, that is to .siy, toward a material 
 recmstmciim of society on a basis of ecjuality, apart Irom 
 the theological and ethical sanctions which have hitherto 
 obtained. Positivism in \mxt recognises tliis; its main 
 interest lies in social renovation, but in this it seeks to 
 preserve the material basis of the present society while 
 rejecting its speculative counterpart. Even its ethics it 
 retains. The change is to beettected on the old principles 
 of individual ethical initiative and regeneration from 
 within, rather than through economic and social recon- 
 sti-uction. Its non-theological attitude, its professed devo- 
 tion to human progress as the supreme end of all institu- 
 
 MILL. 
 
 377 
 
 tions ill accords with the superstitious reverence attached 
 to ce'rtain traditional social forms. The immolation of 
 human happiness before the Comtian MoI.kIi "social 
 order" is in keeping with a cnltm in which humanity is 
 transformed into a supreme fetich, demanding a drastic 
 asceticism as the highest expression of her \vorsliip, and 
 of which the prospective virgin mother is the symbol and 
 ideal. 
 
 The contemporaiy British philosophical movements were 
 until the advent of lIerV)ert Spencer almost exclusively 
 confined to Psychology and formal Logic. In the j-ast 
 generation the main i»liilosophical controversey was that 
 between tho Empirical Associationists and Psychologn-al 
 Intuitionists, represented on the one side by tlui younger 
 INIill, following the footsteps of his father, and on the other, 
 Sir William Hamilton, in conjunction with whom may be 
 mentioned his pupil, Henry Longueville Mansel. Ihe 
 results of Associationism and of the Scotch school ot i sy- 
 choloo-y, generally, have been systematized and presented 
 a form adapted to university students by Alexander Bam. 
 The philosophy of Mill, and the modem empirical 
 school, generally, is really but little more than a restate- 
 ment of the principles laid down in the seventeenth and 
 ei<-hteenth centuries V>y Ilobbes, Locke, Berkeley an<l Hume. 
 The reduction of all mental phenomena to the emi>irical 
 association of ideas is its characteristic. The intuitional 
 school, of which Hamilton may be regarded as the duet 
 exi)onent, was a development with modifications along 
 tiie lines of Reid. Both schools alike reject the ten- 
 dencies of German speculation, which at this period was 
 represented in this island by one writer only, namely 
 Ferrier, tlie author of the * Institutes of Metaphysic, \yho, 
 althougli an original Avriter, had but imperlectly assimi- 
 lated its results. ^ i^-tt ^ . 
 Prol)ably no one, with the exception perhaps of Herbei-t 
 Spencer, is more connected with philosophical studies m 
 the mind of the average Englishman than John Stuart 
 Mill During the latter part of his life he was eminently 
 the English philosopher. He undoubtedly contributed to 
 popularise the results of the associational school to an 
 
378 
 
 MODEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 extent which no one had done before him. TJo Inc.dity 
 of his style was sufficient to place the problems with 
 which he dealt before the minds of persons altogether un- 
 used to abstract thought. Nevertheless, Mill cannot be 
 said to have contributetl any new development even to 
 psvcholoKj-, much less to philosophy m general. His 
 fother! James Mill, was in the direct line of the Scotch 
 Psychological School, in which the younger Mill ^i^ ^o"fe- 
 quence received a thorough training trom his earliest 
 years. As a young man Mill mot with the works ot 
 Auirust Comto, and acknowledges having received a 
 powerful stimulus from them. All Mill's work is essen- 
 tially critical. Nearly all his indoj>endent contributions 
 to Psychology are contained in his • Examination of 
 Hamilton.' It is hero that the dissertation on perception 
 S to 1« found, the result of which is Mill's well-known 
 definition of the objective-real as " pennanent possibility 
 of sensation." The philosophical polemic of Mills life as 
 expressed in his two great works-the ' hystein of l^.gic 
 and the ' Examination of Sir William Hamilton s Philo- 
 sophy' above referred to-is with the somewhat crude 
 psychological the<iry of innate ideas against which Locke 
 hi\ protested. The difference is, however, that whereas 
 in Locke's time nobody had ever conceived such monstro- 
 sities, nor would have conceived of them had not Locke 
 found it convenient to set up the theory as a target to 
 attack: Locke having once started tbo doctrine as the 
 object of his polemic, a school ot lutuitionists naturally 
 Ei4w up who made it their business to champion this doc- 
 trine. Hamilton and his school were the upholders of 
 this rival psvchological theory. We l>ehovo thinking 
 men will generally agree when we descril* the main result 
 of Mill's work as that of a powerful stimulus. He stirred up 
 the minds of many to the consideration ot problems wtiich 
 had previously lain outside their range of mental vision. 
 
 Alexander IJain is probably the best known and most 
 voluminous of contemporary British writers of the 
 psychological school. His ' Sensations and Intellect,^ 
 ind 'Emotions and Will,' his 'Mental and Moral Science, 
 and his ' Logic, are more or less familiar to every student, 
 and any analysis of them will therefore be uiinecessarj-. 
 
 LEWES. 
 
 379 
 
 We may, however, mention as the chief original result 
 arrived at by Bain his elaborate attempt in the second 
 to"ume of his 'Logic' to identify the notion of the "per- 
 sistence of force " with that of causality, or more accurately, 
 to deduce causaUty from the "persistence of force. 
 
 The versatile writer and critic George Henry Lewes 
 asn- 78), although in his earlier j^ars he may be con- 
 sidered simply as an adherent of the 'Philosophic Positive 
 t^wlrds thl Lse of his life elaborated a ^yB^- f ^i. 
 own. embodied in a work entitled ' Problems of Life and 
 Mind,' which although not completed in detail at the time 
 
 ,• , f 1 .1, ...„„ o„«;o;Ar,tW arlvanced to atlord a general 
 
 "Positive" method lie ratuer in ine uueeviuii m. — - 
 ing its scope. Problems which his master ^omte, and he 
 himself previously, woukl have declared insoluble, he now 
 claims to treat according to the principles of science. 
 While the first rule of his philosophy is : "no problem to 
 be mooted unless it be presented in terms of experience, 
 and be capable of empirical investigation," he refuses to 
 admit that problems hitherto regarded as essentially 
 metaphysical, such as matter, force, cause, law, soul, <fco., 
 ca'n ot be presented in th„se terms, and solved on the 
 Sods of induction. Lewes even retains the name 
 Metaphysics for these problems, inventing the term 
 Metempirics for their treatment on non-empincal methods. 
 Each problem has what Lewes terms an " unexplored 
 remainder," that is to say, an unknowable ^l^^" ^'^.^'^^ 
 has to be .aiininated before the problem can be dealt vvith 
 on the Positive method. No science is more than, sym- 
 bolical of reality. "Its most absolute conclusions, sajs 
 Lewes, "are formed from abstractions expressing modes ot 
 existence which never were and never could be real ; and 
 are very often at variance with sensible experience. 
 Science thus represents a translormed reality, an ideal 
 world of its own. " Science is in no way a plain transcr-pt 
 of Keality, in no respect a picture of the External Order 
 but wholly an ideal construction, m wh.ch he maniWd 
 relations of Keals are taken up and assimilated bj the 
 mind and then transtorn,ed u.to relations ot ideas so that 
 the world of sense is changed into the world ot thought. 
 
380 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The aim of philosophy is not, therefore, to give a magnified 
 picture of the world, as it might appear td tnlijuiced 
 powers of sense, hut to reconstruct an ideal world of 
 abstract relations. The <liffereiice between tli«3 reoon- 
 Btnicted ideal world of science and that f)f the IMetaphy- 
 sicians, or Metempiricists, as Lewes would call tliem, is, 
 therefore, that the one can be verified and the other not ; 
 the one starts from experience and returns to experience, 
 the other altogether leaves the region of experience. The 
 result of Lewes's attempt to treat philosophical problems 
 on scientific methods, can liardly Ixj described as satisfac- 
 tory, as to some extent indicated in the comparatively 
 small success which, in proporti<tn to the importance of its 
 claims, the work attained. The treatment of the cardinal 
 question of the relation of subject and object, as one might 
 expect from the 8tandi>oint occupied, exhibits confusion 
 between the scientific fact of the union of mental and 
 material phenomena in one organism, and the meta- 
 physical fact of all phenomena being determinations t f 
 consciousness. 
 
 The Monistic position is arrived at in the form of an 
 inference from the parallelism discovera])le between 
 physical and psychical processes. This fundamental eon- 
 fusion between the physical and the metaphysical st;ind- 
 points, naturally pervades the treatment of eacli of tlie 
 ♦Problems of Life and Mind.' Lewes's accentuation of 
 the distinction between tlio itleality of science and the 
 reality of " coininon sense" denotes nevertheless an 
 undoubted abvance on the previous thought of the 
 empirical school. 
 
 It remains now to give a somewhat more detailed notice 
 of the system of Herbert Spencer, whose influence has 
 been and still is wide-reaching and considerable. Spencer, 
 like Lewes, Mill, and the other English writers of his 
 generation, has been strongly influenced by the writings 
 of Auguste Comte. 
 
 I'he philosophy of Herbert Spencer starts with the 
 distinction between the knowable and the unknowable, 
 the absolute and the relative. This pronounced de- 
 marcation, amounting almost to dualism, is the foun- 
 
 BPENCEB, 
 
 381 
 
 dation of Spencer's system. The first and smallest 
 dWision of his philosophy, which deals with the ^^^now- 
 able, pr<.claims the existence of the Absolute or the 
 absoluteness of Existence (for the two expressions are 
 in Spencer's case almost interchangeable), outside the 
 phenomenal world, but at the same time Spencer proclaims 
 our nescience of all that concerns this Absolute. Our 
 very recognition of the relativity of knowledge is 
 meaningless except in contradistinction to a non-relative 
 or Absolute. " We have seen," he says in summing up 
 Ids argument, "how in the very assertion that all our 
 knowledge properly so called is Belative there is involved 
 The asserUon that there exists a Non-relative. We have 
 seen how, in each step of the argument by which this 
 doctrine is established, the same assumption ^s ^i^^e 
 We have seen h.nv, from the very necessity of thinking 
 in rehition, it follows that the Native is itself incon- 
 ceivable except as related to a Non-relative. We have 
 seen that unless a Non-relative or Absolute be postulated, 
 the Kelative itself becomes absolute ; and so brings the 
 argument to a contradiction. And on contemplating the 
 process of thought, ^ve have equally seen how impossiHe 
 it is to 2;et rid of the consciousness of an actuahty lymg 
 behind ai,pearances; and how, from this impossibdity 
 Sts our indestructible belief in that actuality " (' Fii^t 
 Principles,' pp. 90-7.) In a chapter on " ultimate scientific 
 ideas," Herbert Spencer endeavours to show how aU 
 scientific conceptions rest ultimately on the insoluble. 
 Matter, force, s .ace, time on ultimate analysis, abut on 
 ncomprehensibility, in other words, they comnii us to 
 what Spencer terms » alternative impossibil ties of 
 Zuo-ht " Ho lias already shown this to be the ca^e 
 with^ltimate religious ideas. The reconciliation Spencer 
 professes to effect between science and religion consists 
 L he recognition by the former of the exiBtence of an 
 Absolute l^hind phenomena, and by the latter of the 
 Xtdutely inscrutable nature of this existence. The 
 reTal^n of philosophy to science is that of the gee 1 
 *r. the nartieular; just as the relation of science to 
 Ordinary ki^^w^^^ is that of the general to the par- 
 t'cuTar *^ As each widest generalisation of science com- 
 
382 
 
 MODERN rillLOSOPHT. 
 
 prebends and consolidates the narrower generalisations of 
 its own division ; so the generalisations of PhUosophj 
 comprehend and consolidate the widest g^f ™1»«*^«'« «' 
 science. It is therefore a knowledge of the extreme 
 ™ite in kind to that which expenence first accnmu- 
 lates It is the final product of that process which begins 
 with' a mere colligation of crnde observations, goes on 
 establishing propositions that arc broxder and more sepa- 
 rated from particular cases, and ends in universal propo- 
 sitions. Or to bring the definition to its simplest and 
 clearest form :-knowledge of the lowest kind is u.Muuficd 
 knowledge; science is j,artially-umjied knowledge ;philo- 
 K,phy is completely-unijied knowledge." ('First Pr.nci- 
 
 ^^The'^^iiitive or constructive side of the Spencenan 
 philosophy is based upon the doctrine of Evolution. 1 he 
 data of science, space, time, matter, motion and iorce, are 
 treated at the outset from a psychological standpoint. 
 The psychological definition given of reality is interesting 
 and important. •' By reality we mean pcrmtence in 
 consciousness: a persistence that is either unconditional, 
 as our consciousness of space, or, that is conditional, as our 
 consciousness of a body while grasping it. I ho real, aa 
 wo conceive it, is distinguished solely by the test of 
 
 persistence; for by this test wo ««PF **«/* ["-.'"^Xfti™ 
 call the unreal." On the strength of this dohnition 
 conjoined with what has preceded, the conclusion is once 
 more drawn that wo have " an indefinite consciousness of 
 an absolute reality transcending relations, which is pro- 
 duced by the absolute persistence in us ot sometUing 
 which survives all changes of relation." Also, that we 
 Lave a definite reality, which unceasingly persists in us, 
 under one or other of its forms, and under each form so 
 lone as the conditions of presentation are fulfaUeil. lUe 
 distinction between the two is consequently not one as 
 between greater and less reality, lor both are abke real, 
 but between two different kinds of reality. . , ., 
 
 Spencer's test of truth— the ultimate criterion m philo- 
 sophy— is the "inconceivability of the opi>osito ; that 
 is to say, where the opposite of a given proix>sition is 
 inconceivable, that proposition is true. This, be it observed. 
 
 SPEXCER. 
 
 383 
 
 is only a roundabout way of aflirmiug that self^consistency 
 of thought on which the speculative or generic method is 
 founded! Reality has already been defined as persistence 
 in consciousness; on the strength of this, bpencer is of 
 course a realist. He terms his doctrine transfigured realism 
 as 0Pi...sed to the naive realism of popular conception. 
 The ^"indestructibility of matter," like the " persistence 
 of force " is deduced from the fundamental postulate ot 
 the " inconceivability of the opposite," the contrary ot 
 each of these assumptions being shown to involve an 
 impossibility of thought. No less axiomatic is the idea 
 of the continuity of motion. "The first deduction, 
 says Spencer, " to be drawn from the ultimate univei^l 
 ?ruth that force persists, is that the relations among 
 forces persist. Supposing a given '"anifestetion ot 
 force, under a given lomi and given <=o^d ^lons ^^ 
 either preeeded bv, or succeeded by some other »»««*'»» 
 to! it must, in all cases where the form and conditions 
 Ire ihe same', be preceded by or succeeded by -eh other 
 manifestation. Eveiy antecedent mode of the Unknow 
 "ble must have an invariable connection quantita- 
 t ve and qualitative, with that mode of the Unknowable 
 which weUl iis consciuent. For to say otherwise is to 
 deny the persistence of force. If in any two cases there 
 is exact likeness, not only between those most conspicuous 
 antecedents, which we distinguish as the causes but also 
 iKitween those accompanying antecedents which we call 
 the conditions, we cannot aftirm that the efiects ^viUdiffei 
 without aflirming either that some force has come into 
 existence or that some force has ceased to exist, it toe 
 co-operative forces in the one case are equal to those in the 
 other, each to each, in distribution and aniount, then it is 
 impossible to conceive the product of their joint action in 
 t^ one case as unlike that in the other, without con- 
 coivino- one or more of the forces to have increased or 
 dhninrshed in quantity ; and this is conceivmg that force is 
 not persistent." (' First Principles, p. 193.) 
 
 The transformation and equivalence of force, the direction 
 
 of motion, which is shown to be in the line of least resis- 
 t u ce and in the dirccti..n of the greatest force ; the 
 rhythm of motion, by which is meant the oscillations 
 
384 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 invariably accompanying motion in every department of 
 phenomena, are deduced from the ultimate principle of the 
 Persistence of force. I'hese things are what Spencer terms 
 the components of phenomena. It now remains, after 
 " having seen that matter is indestructible, motion con- 
 tinuous, and force persistent ; having seen that forces are 
 everj'where undergoing transformation, and that motion, 
 always following the line of least resistance, is invariably 
 rhythmic ; it remains to discover the similarly invai ialile 
 formula expressing the combined consequences of the 
 actions thus separately fonnulated." The formula sought, 
 may he defined as the law of the coniinuom redwirihutkm of 
 matter and motion. All objects individually and collec- 
 tively are undei'going every instant some change of state. 
 In other words they are altsorbing motion or losing motion. 
 The question to l)e answered is therefore what dynamic 
 princi^ile ul)tfiinhig at oncu in general and detail, exprr.sses 
 this constant cliange of relation. 
 
 All processes of cliange may be divided into two classes, 
 those of integration or evolution, and those of dis- 
 integration or dissolution. Evolution always means in 
 the last resort the concentration of matter accompanied l)y 
 the dissii)ation of motion ; while dissolution means the 
 reverse process, that is, the dit!u>ion of matter and the 
 absorption of motion. One or other of these processes is 
 going on in e\'ery perceived whole. Evolution may bo 
 further desciibed as the progress from an indefinite and 
 homogeneous state to a definite and heterogeneous state. 
 
 Evolution may be simple or compound. V\ here the 
 only forces at work are those directly tending to produce 
 aggregation or difiusion, there will be no more than the 
 approach of the comi)onents of the aggregate or whole 
 towards tlie common centre; in other words, the itn.cess 
 i»f evolution will be simple; such will be the case, more- 
 ovei-, wliere the fijrces tending towards the centre are 
 greatly in excess of otlier forces ; or when, on account of 
 the smallness of the mass, or the smallness of the quantity 
 of motion it receives from without, the process proceeds 
 rajiidly. But when, on the contrary, from whatever 
 cause, the process proceeds slowly, then the mass will bo 
 appreciably modified by other forces. In addition to 
 
 SPENCER. 
 
 385 
 
 the chief primary change of integration, secondary and 
 sui)plementary changes will be produced ; the process of 
 evolution will, in other words, be compound. This 
 principle iSpencer proceeds to illustrate at length in 
 the course of the discussion, some important facts being 
 brought out, as that the quantity of secondary redistribu- 
 tion in an organism varies according to the contained 
 quantity of the motion we call heat, &c. The principles 
 of evolution are then discussed in detail ; first, in their 
 primaiy aspect of simple evolution, and afterwards more 
 especially with respect to the secondary redistributions 
 constituting compound evolution. 
 
 It having been sliown that all existences must reach 
 their ultiniate shape through processes of concentration, 
 it remains for Spencer to show how different orders of 
 phenomena do actually exhibit the process of the integra- 
 tion of matter, and the dissipation of motion. '* Tracing, 
 so iar as we mav by observation and inference, the objects 
 dealt with by tlie* Astronomer and the Geologist, as well 
 as those which Biology, Psychology and Sociology treat 
 of, we have to consider what direct proof there is that the 
 Cosmos, in general and in detail, conforms to this law." 
 In the course of the ensuing discussion it is shown that 
 the same process is g(jing on in the several parts or 
 members of aggregates, as in the wholes. Thus, while 
 there has been a gradual concentration of the Solar 
 s\ stem from its primitive nebulous state, there has been 
 none the less a concentration going on in each planet, 
 'i'he same apidies to the geological development of the 
 earth regarded as itself an aggregate ; to that of the 
 animal from the embryo : to tlie difterentiation of species 
 and to the development of society. " Alike during the 
 evolution of the Solar system, of a planet, of an organism, 
 of a naticm, there is progressive aggregation of the entire 
 mass. This may be shown by the increasing density of 
 the matter alrea<ly contjiined in it; or by the drawing 
 into it of matter that was before separate, or by both. 
 But in any case it implies a loss of relative motion. At 
 the !<ame time, tlie ]>arts into which the mass has divided, 
 severally consolidate in like manner. We see this in 
 tliat formation of planets and s^atellites which has gone 
 
 2 c 
 

 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 on alonp; with the concentration of the nelmla out of 
 which the Solar system originated; we see it in the 
 growth of separate organs that advances, pari 2)assu, with 
 the growth of each organism ; we see it in that rise of 
 special industrial centres, and special masses of population, 
 which is associated with the rise of each society. Always 
 more or less of local integration accompanies the general 
 integration. And then, beyond the increased closeness 
 of juxtaposition among the components of the whole, and 
 among the components of each part, there is increased 
 closeness of combination among the parts, producing 
 mutual dependence of them." (' First Principles,' p. 328.) 
 
 The secondary process which accompanies th«; primary 
 in evolution may be formulated as one from tlie homo- 
 geneous and indefinite to the heterogeneous find definite. 
 8|)encer shows this exhaustively a posteriori in the 
 departments of Astronomy, Geology, Biology, Philology, 
 Psychology, and Sociology, &c. In the chapter on the 
 "instability of the homogeneous," is illustrated with 
 characteristic wealth of examples the tendency of the 
 homogeneous and indefinite towards change ; liow impos- 
 sible is the continuance of an aggregate in the state of 
 homogeneity. Another factor in the evolutionary i)n)cos8 
 is the " multiplication of effects," that is, the tendency of 
 the incident force acting u}»on a uniform aggregate to 
 become itself differentiated in a ratio corresponding with 
 the ditferentiation of the aggregate. Thus, when one 
 lx)dy is stinck against another, besides tlie visible 
 meclianical result, sound, or a vibration in tlic- liodies and 
 ill the surrounding air, is produced ; the air has moreover 
 had currents raided in it liy tlie passage of the bcwlies 
 through it ; there is a disarrangement of jiarticles of tlic 
 bodies around their point of collision ; heat is disengaged; 
 in some eases a spark or light is produced by the incan- 
 descence of a portion, wliilo occa>ionally this is associated 
 with cheiuical coml»ination. ** Thus," says Spoucer, "by 
 the original mechanical force exj»nded in the collision, 
 at least, iive and often more different kinds of forces have 
 been produced." 
 
 Thus far an explanation has been afforded of the 
 change from homogeneity to heterogeneity, from uni- 
 
 SPENCER. 
 
 387 
 
 formity to multiforniitv ; but these explanations do nut, 
 of themselves, account'fur tlie change from indefimteness 
 to definiteness. The ground of explanation of this is to 
 be found in the principle of "Segregation Ihis 
 
 principle of Segregation, by which is meant the union 
 of like with like, and a consequent separation trom the 
 unlike, may he variously illustrated ; a strong wind lu 
 the autumn sweeps the dead leaves in masses to the 
 crround, while the Hving are left on the trees; a similtu- 
 process takes place in the separation of dust and sand 
 from small stones, as we may see on any road in Mandi. 
 In every river, again, the materials are deposited in 
 separate layers— boulders, pebbles, sand and mud. The 
 winnowing of chaff from wheat also illustrates this 
 princiide, which is of common application in the indus- 
 trial arts. Spencer as usual traces it through the several 
 orders of i)heiiomena, from the Astronomical to the 
 
 Social. . ,, ,. ■ .1 
 
 With the prineii>le of Segregation, the discussion on the 
 
 factors constituting Evolution is terminated. The next 
 (niestion is as to the final goal of the evolutionary process. 
 Does this process go on for ever, or is there a i)oint 
 beyond which it can proceed no llirther ? Spencer replies 
 ihat there is such a point:— in short, that all evolution 
 teiuls toward equilibration ; that it finally comes to anclior 
 ill absolute quiescence or equilibrium. The last point is 
 illustrated, in the usual manner, and it is then shown hovv 
 all tliis is a deduction from the primary principle ot tlie 
 persistence of force. " Thus from the persistence ol lorce 
 follows not only the various direct and indirect equilibra- 
 tions <'-oin'>- on around, together with that cosmical equili- 
 bration which brings Evolution under all its forms to a 
 close • but also those less manifest equilibrations shown m 
 the readjustments of moving equilibria that have been 
 disturbed. By this ultimate principle is provable the 
 tendency of everv organism, disordered by some unusual 
 intluence, to return to a balanced state. To it also may 
 be traced the capacity, i.ossessed in a sbght degree by 
 individuals, and in a greater degree by species ot becoming 
 adapted to new circumstances. And not less iloes it 
 afford a basis for the inference, that there is a gradual 
 
 •1 2 
 
388 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 advance towaids liarmony lietween man's mental nature 
 and the conditions of his existence. After finding that 
 from it are dedncible the various characteristics of 
 Evolution, we finally draw from it a warrant for the be- 
 lief, that Evolution can end only in the establiKhment oi 
 the greatest perfection and the most complete happiness. 
 (Ti'^rst Principles,' p. 517.) ^ .,.,.. mi. 
 
 Lastly reniairis the question of dissolution. Ihe 
 equilibrium once attained, the point having been reached 
 when evolution ceases, the tendency must always be to a 
 reversal of the process. All change henceforth must be 
 in the direction of disintegration, of dissolution. This, 
 which is illustrated in detail by the life and death of 
 planetary systems, of individual animals, of societies, &c., 
 is true no less of the universe as a whole; this also, on 
 the foregoing principles— its evolutionary process having 
 reached its term— must tend to dissolution. This portion 
 of the * First Principles' recalls to our mind the theories 
 of the early Greek speculators, of Ilerakleitos, Empedokles, 
 and Aiiaxagoras, &c., with their eternally alternating 
 processes of world-fonnation and destruction. For 
 though Herbert Spencer finds Universal Evolution to 
 point to Universal Dissolution, yet this latter itself, 
 iK.ne the less, ibreshadows a recommencement of the 
 
 process, on the 
 
 same reasoning. 
 
 The summary and con- 
 
 elusion of the 'First Principles' consists of a restatement 
 of the doctrine of the Unknowable in antithesis to the 
 Knowable with which the l>ook opened. "Over and over 
 again it has been shown, in various ways, that the deepest 
 truths we can reach, are simply statements of the widest 
 uniformities in our experience of the rolatinns of Matter, 
 Motion, and Force, and that Matter, IVlotion, and Force 
 are but svmlxds of the Unknown Reality." 
 
 We refrain from entering on the carrying out of the 
 " first principles " indicated in the foregoing pages, m 
 detail in the departments of Biology, Psycholo-y, So- 
 ciology, &c., as embodied in the later works of Herbert 
 Spencer. The aMncii)les of Biology' is uniyersally 
 admitted to be a masterpiece of scientific generalization ; 
 b»t w^e venture to think that Herbert Spencer's most 
 devoted admirers will hardly seriously deny that the 
 
 SPENCER. 
 
 389 
 
 * Principles of Sociology * shows a falling off— a falling off 
 which others miglit add, that results in an inadequacy of 
 treatment verging at times on the puerile. 
 
 Of Herbert Spencer's great powers as a generalizer of 
 the results of modern scientific thought, there can be no 
 doubt. These powers he indeed possesses in an almost 
 unique degree, but side by side with them, we find a total 
 incapacity to a]>preeiate modes of thought foreign to the 
 special grooves in w^iich his way of speculative life has 
 been cast. The most flabby pretences of the Laissez-faire 
 economy are argued from as dogmas universally accepted, 
 to dispute which is impious, much in the same way as 
 the Methoclist preacher argues from the dogmas of 
 his Calvin istic theology. 
 
 Again, his attempted reconciliation of Science and 
 Theology, of Materialism and Idealism, on the basis 
 of a mechanically conceived abstract Monism, betrays a 
 crudity of conception which argues a strange lack of the 
 speculative faculty. This is confirmed by the singular 
 itjnoratio elenchi involved in his would-be refutations c>f 
 the Germans. But Spencer is m-t always consistent with 
 himself in treating of the abstractum he has set up as a 
 receptacle for "religious sentiment," "ultimate facts," &c. 
 The Positivists and the orthodox Empiricists would fling 
 aside the metaphysical problem alt.-gether. Herbert 
 Spencer provides a home for it in the bosom of the 
 Unknowable. AVe say the Unknowable, since Spencer 
 tells us that the Absolute is unknowable ; but, strangely 
 enough, it reappears on occasion in guises not quite so 
 unknowable as they might be. The most usual shape 
 w^hich it assumes in the course of the exposition is 
 j\,i.ee— th«; force behind phenomena — which is manifested 
 to us in the phenomena themselves. Yet another time it is 
 insisted upon tliat it is not to be identified either with the 
 spiritual or material sides of the phenomenal world — the 
 worldof relativity— although it is the ground-principle of 
 them l»otli. The Spencerite Unknowal)le, view it as we 
 may, is a surd entirely cut off from the system of ex- 
 perience, notwithstanding that it is the cause of the 
 phenomena given in experience. 
 
 The influence of Herbert Spencer's system has been very 
 
:m 
 
 MODEltN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 wide. In this country and America he ^« P^"?^"^;^^^^^^^ 
 the philosopher. IUh irerj^ failings no less than his meiits 
 contribute to his popularity among the English-speaking 
 races; but indeed the importance of the cosmical truths 
 Herbert Spencer has taught might well blind many of his 
 admirers to his defects. 
 
 The supremacy of the orthodox Biitish Philosophy, 
 Emi>iricism, like the orthodox British economy Laissez- 
 faire, has b;3eB rudely shaken of late The one doctrme 
 like the other has been practically driven to adopt the 
 defensive. In philosophy the new movement lias been at 
 present chiefly confined to aca^lemical ci. el.s, '^"t it ie 
 Already beginning to extend itself beyond this necessaril> 
 Umited ar(^. The characteristic of this inovement is the 
 attempt to rehabilitate in this country philosophy pi^.per, 
 that s the great pn)blem as to the conBtitutum of ex- 
 per^nce or rSility, Vhick occupied the attention of Hato 
 mid Aristotle in the ancient world and which was revived 
 in its full meaning by the main line of the German pc>st- 
 Kantian thinkers. Among tlie name^ most P;;^|''-;;;% 
 connected with this movement may be mentioned those 
 of KolMJrt Adamson, Edward Caird, the late 1^11. dreen 
 K B. and J. S. Haldane, Andrew Setli Wilham and 
 Edwin Wallace, &c. These writers, though ditienng in 
 some respects among each oilier, have all "^^*^« ;\ ^^^^^^ 
 task to |>resent in as intelligible a torm as possible to the 
 Eno-liHh mind the principle of the speculative method and 
 
 s ate in clear terms the problem which ''speculation 
 „, .^tlieory of knowledge" has to f -'1;:^-^^^.;^^ 
 .s to the meaning and constitution o reality. \^^^ 
 is sometimes called the Neo-IIc^elian school: and its 
 doctrine may be said to cjnsist ma ^^^^^^^f ^?^^.^^ *^^ 
 pliilosophical positions of the Hegelian right. We ha^o 
 already (pp. 345-351) indicated what we conceived to be 
 L shOTtemiiing of this standpoint. This shortcoming we 
 do not think is obviated in the more recmit statement 
 c,f the doctrine. lUiefl y exi.ressed, it is as foUoANs . In the 
 «vnthetic unitvof eonsciousness it is said the opposition 
 rf the momenta of nuitter and form, i-otentnihty and 
 actuality, &c., immanent in consciousness— t.e. the most 
 
 NEO-IIEGELIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 391 
 
 ultimate of all oppositions— is transcended. This being ad- 
 mitted, it is contending that the Keal consists m a synthesis 
 of positive thought-determinations alone, in other words, 
 the position corresponds to that of Plato--the ^y^\^'^^^ 
 ideas subsumed under the supreme idea ; or that of Aristot e 
 —the " creative intellect," the actus jmrus or hrst principle 
 of pure form which knowledge presupposes, llie pi-esent 
 writer would suggest that so far from the opi^sition being 
 transcended in tlie ultimate unity of the eoiisciousness, it 
 rather finds therein its sui)reme expression as the distinc- 
 tion between consciousness and its subject, between the i 
 of apperception and the thmJc of apperception, or, otherwise 
 expressed, betwr.u the ^amud thalness ^ml the primal i(;/mi- 
 nem* From this ultimate expression of the antithesis ot 
 matter and form all other expressions of the same antithesis 
 are deducible. Tlie final interpretation of the universe is 
 thus inire potentmUtif. One otlier point. Ihe concep- 
 tion of the world-sVnthesis as jnire actuality naturally 
 leads to the dogma \>f the completed realisation of the 
 world-T.rinciple in man as organic individual, m other 
 words, in the individual mind or soul. Mature on this 
 view comes to a complete knowledge ot herself m the 
 present human consciousness ; but have we any right to 
 make such an assumption? Is sucli an assumption com- 
 patible with a recognition of the social purpose implied m 
 the moral ten.leney V Does n(.t this imply that the organic 
 synthesis, the human individual, the self-realisation ot 
 i4ture is as yet incomplete, and awaits a hi glier develop- 
 ment *? Such a conception as tliat here hinted at it is 
 difticult to represent to one's self in thought niuch more 
 to express in words, but the suggestion will not be an 
 alt<.-ether useless one, even though it merely acts as what 
 Kaii^ would have termed a limitative notion m checking 
 the do^^matic assumption altove noticed. 
 
 It nmy also possibly have some bearing in connection 
 
 with an objection which Professor Caird observes (art 
 
 " Metaphvsic," Encyc. Brit, 9th ed.) is frequently urged 
 
 against an Hegelian Metaphysic : " The great objection te 
 
 * Of course the thatness l.ere spoken of is not equivalent to tlie 
 
 emptincsB of theconcept pure h^ing, ^^•^'f''''^'''},^^^'^^^^^^^^ 
 
 that of coustitutiu- the grouud-prmciple or possibility ol cou^ciousatsd. 
 
392 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 a metaphysic like this, at least an objection which weighs 
 much in the minds of many, is that wliich sj)rings from 
 the contrast between the claim of absolute knowledge 
 which it seems to involve, and the actual limitations which 
 our intelligence encounters in every dirertiuti. If the 
 theory were true, it is felt we ought to be nearer the 
 solution of the problems of our life, jiractical and specula- 
 tive, than we are ; the riddle of tlie painful < artli ought to 
 vex lis less ; we ought to find our way more tasily through 
 the entanglement of facts, and to he able to deal with 
 practical difficulties in a less tentative nianiier." This 
 conception of the world-synthesis as form and actuality, 
 and of its final realisation in the psychological unity 
 represented by the organic individual, has, -sve think, much 
 to do with the apparent opposition of llegelianisin not only 
 to common-sense but also to tlie scientific intellect. Let 
 us take an instance of the inaderpiaey of tlie last-mentioned 
 point of view from the treatment it involves of the problem 
 of liberty and necessity. " Man," says I'rotVjssor (Jaird, " is 
 determined by his desires only so far as ho makes their 
 object his object, or seeks his own satisfaction in them. 
 We may admit that there is a sense in which tlie common 
 saying is true that a inaii's action is the result of his 
 character and circumstances. But this does not make 
 him a necessary agent ; for the ciicumstances are what 
 they are for him by the aetioii of consciousness, and the 
 character is the man as he has framed to himself an idea 
 of good, of a universe of satisfactions, in wliieh he seeks 
 to be realised." ('Mind,' vol. vi. p. 550.) In the argu- 
 ment of wliich this passage is a sample, the action of the 
 social medium in framing for tlio man the universe of 
 satisfactions referred to is entirely ignored. The " idea of 
 good " is regarded as framed by the man himself, rather 
 than by the soeial whole, past and present, into which he 
 enters. The formal princi[»le, eonsciousnebs, as buch, is 
 moreover treated as per se creative. 
 
 Now it may witli fairness be contended that the man does 
 iiot identify the desired object with himself, as the late 
 Professor Green would have it, Ity any conscious art of self- 
 determination on his part, but that with his mental 
 concept of the object is already given the notion of it as 
 
 NEO-HEG ELIAN SCHOOL. 
 
 393 
 
 an "end," which, if not counterbalanced by the presence of 
 other more' iiotent ends, determines his action, a fact which 
 is registered in the empirical consciousness, together with 
 the correlative possihilitij of other ends having under other 
 circumst^inces become motives, which formal registration 
 we term Freedom ! But notwithstanding all criticism, the 
 usefulness of the work done by these writers for English 
 students of philosophy can hardly be overrated.* The 
 Neo-IIegelians, even if they have not said the last word 
 on the speculative problem, are by far the most important 
 school existing at itresent. The fact that they have intro- 
 duced the speculative problem at all to the English 
 reading public is of itself a by no means insignificant 
 service. The writings of the school form tlie best possible 
 introduction to Phiiosophy, and at least furnish a basis 
 ibr tlie discussion of its problems, which did not exist 
 before outside Germany. 
 
 * Tliere is one point upon which we would like to hear an explana- 
 tion frcm one of the authoritative leaders of tlie more pronouoee«lly 
 ri^'ht win^ of the scliool— that is, as to the theolo^'ieal terminology 
 atiected, and especially iw to the employineiit of the word "God!" 
 On the priuei|iles admitted by Frotessor Caird, for examine, this 
 word, as popularly used, implies an antithesis to Nature and Man ; it 
 is used to exi)r( sstlu- op|)osition of finite and intinite. This, we take it, 
 will not be tienieti. Now we wonld ask, by what right is a term sug- 
 gestive of, and associated with, tlie most decisive aspect of the opposi- 
 tion empl yed in a coinn ction where the opposition is abolished? A 
 Buuilitr line miiiht be takeu up as regards the reading of Hegelianisui 
 into Christian dogmas. 
 
394 
 
 MODERN rillLOSOPnY. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 395 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 -•o«- 
 
 Ix the course of the history wo have just traversed, the 
 ordinary refuler iiiav see littlo Init a cliaos ot theories. 
 Such a virw, licwi'viT, can only obtain where a siiper- 
 ficial fflance has 1»rn taken of the whole. We have 
 a-ain and a-ain had occasion to point out the continuous 
 r^ppearance of the same doctrines m thinkers, widel^' 
 separated in time an<I intellectual surrounding^ and who 
 armroached the problem from altoirether different arid 
 even opposed standpoints. Such indications of what to 
 the snpertieial reader might appear coincidj^nces^ couW 
 liavo l«en almost indefinitely multiplied. This of itself 
 would lead to the suspicion of a central truth around 
 which the must seemingly antagonistic philosophies were 
 revolving. The History of Philosopliy is indeed^ no 
 medley of mere opinions, but represents in various guises, 
 deternuned immediately by personality, age, surroundings, 
 &c., the several stages throngli which the human mind 
 must pasH in its endeavours to arrive at the complete tor- 
 mulation of the world-problem, together with its solution, 
 which is nothing otli«"r than the final rational explanation 
 of the world. By the last expression is meant an expla- 
 nation which, while it includes all other explanations 
 attained from more limited points of view, yet neverthe- 
 less transcends them. Philosophy in the exact sense of 
 the word^philosophy par exeellenee-is. in nhort the hnal 
 and most comprehensive interpretation ot Eeality. It is 
 not a theory of how things may be, but the theory of how 
 
 Strictly* speaking, we have no right to talk of philo- 
 sophies at all. any more than we have to talk of chemistries 
 or physiologies. The history of Chemistry shows us a 
 
 i 
 
 ■1 
 
 Bcries of attempts more or less crude, more or less success- 
 ful to treat the problem of chemistry, i.e. the constitution 
 of bodies; similarly the history of Biology offers a series 
 of attempts to treat the problem of Biology, j.e. to 
 arrive at the theory (the most perfect interpretation or 
 explanation) of organic matter as such. But we do not, 
 Bcvertheless (nor would it have been lair to do so tor 
 that matter, even in the days of » Phlogiston, or of the 
 « animal spirits "), regard Chemistry or Biology as a body 
 of more or less probable or improbable opinion; and 
 this, notwithstanding the divergences of view existing 
 among scientific specialists in many cases on essential 
 points in their respective sciences, even at the present 
 day. AVe liave no more right to regard philosophy as 
 simidy made n]^ of a mass of conjectural theories. Ihere 
 is but one rhilosophy as there is but one Science; the 
 history of philosophy, we again repeat, is the history ot 
 the struggles of the human mind to attiiin the truth ot 
 philosophy, that is the i.liilosoi.hic point of view 
 
 It is imVortant in dealing with the history of philosophy 
 always to distinguish l)etween those systems or parts ot 
 Bystems which mark distinct steps in the analysis of 
 experience and in the recognition of its meaning, and those 
 which are traceable merely to some bias of nationality, 
 reli"-ion, or personal temperament ; the lormer alone have 
 anyVie significance for history. Ordinary electicisin or 
 syncretism pretends to find philosophic truth implied or 
 expressed in all systems collectively, forgetful ot the fact 
 that philosophic reason or thought is always adulterated 
 more or less with local temporary or personal prejudice, 
 and that the true philosophic insight may quite possibly 
 be wholly absent from any particular system. Lmerson s 
 distinction between man tliinking and the theologian, 
 the attorney or the scholar thinking, applies here if any- 
 where Here more even than elsewhere in the attainment 
 of truth it is *»nly where the individual thinker becomes 
 the mere' exponent of the universal thought that a genuine 
 iusio-ht is obtained. Only in very exceptional cases has 
 such an insight extended even imperfectly over the whole 
 rano-e of the philosouliic problem ; far oftenerit has only 
 been a glimpse of a particular aspect of that problem that 
 
396 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 has been Beized. What is more, such is the difficulty of 
 keepini:^ the trne nature of the problem and its interpreta- 
 tion within the intellectual purview, that althongh it 
 has been disclo.ved in its main outline more than once in 
 the history of sj^eculation, the effect of such disclosure has 
 been like that of a flash of lightning— it lias seemed only 
 to leave a more impenetrable subsequent darkness. Plato, 
 Aristotle, Spinoza, and the post-Kantian thinkers of 
 Germany, of whom it is usual to take Hegel as the type, 
 severally had the solution of the problem within their 
 grasp, but the inner meaning of the systems of these 
 tliinkers was imperfectly seized by their successors, and 
 in some cases altogether lost. A crucial instance of this is 
 the treatment of Aristotle by the schoolmen with whom, 
 for the most part, he was whittled down to a mere 
 Psychologist and formal Logician. As regards Spinoza, 
 it must be admitted that the abstract dogmatic mould in 
 which he east his speculation, almost courted miscon- 
 ception from the first ; yet this can be hardly said of 
 Hegel, who is, nevertheless, to the *' popular" no less than 
 to the *' scientific" mind a kind of subjective idealist who 
 would make his own individual thoughts the criteria of 
 things. The above explains the charge of circularity of 
 movement brought by scientist thinkers against philo- 
 sophy. While seieiice, it is said, ceaselessly progresses, 
 Philosophy is always returning to the same point. 
 A very obvious explanation of this is, that the difficulty 
 involved in the mind's seizure and retention of tlie 
 philosophical point of view in its (ompleteness, is so much 
 greater, that in the case of the more limited doctrine 
 of Physical Science, and also that in the case of philo- 
 sophy"^ where the completeness of the view is lost, the 
 point of vantagf^ gained is itself apt to bo lost altogether. 
 Speculation in this case goes stumbling back into the old 
 beaten paths to which it had been accustomed, which lay 
 below and around the true philosophical point of view, 
 and it is not until another speculative genius arises that 
 the lost .^'tandpoint is recovered. Tliere is gain of course 
 in this seeming fluctuation ; each time that the synthesis 
 of philosophy reappears it is enriched ; it is clearer, more 
 explicit, possessed of a fuller content. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 397 
 
 The common notion is that Science and Philosophy 
 metai)hyBic, represent two rival theories of the universe-^ 
 two not merely (»pposed but mutually incompatible 
 methods of ai)proaching one problem. Nothing can be 
 farther from the tiuth. The problem of philosophy is 
 not identical with the problem of science (although it 
 includes it), and hence the methods are not the same. It 
 is ically aw absurd for science to lail at philosophy, 
 because }iliih>H()]jhy in a sense transforms its conclusions 
 and isuperstdes its categ(jries, as it would be for *' common- 
 sense " to rail at science, because science transforms the 
 notions wliicli conunon-sense is accustomed to employ. 
 Philosophy, it is true, does not stop at the categories of 
 science, but neither does science stop at the crude reality 
 of sense- perception. We can easily fancy the uncultured 
 man of sens ■ sneering at the scientist as a dreamer, because, 
 forsooth, he dttclares that the earth moves and not the sun, 
 or because he asserts the rotundity of the earth and the exis- 
 tence of antipodes. The amount of transcendentalism, in 
 the popular sense of that mucli-abused word — if by it be 
 meant distance from the "solid ground" of sense-percep- 
 tion — in the higher mathematics, is truly something ap- 
 palling. In a sense, the conclusions of philosophy are not 
 leal, but then no more are those of science. Both alike 
 involve a departure from the concrete real of the ordinary 
 consciousness. Each, so to speak, moves in a world of iis 
 own, which (according, to the relative perfection attained 
 in the formulation of the respective standpoints) is a 
 world more or less perfectly coherent within itself, and 
 with the standpoint or standpoints which fall under it or 
 which it embraces. Science at once embraces and tran- 
 scends common-sense in tlie higher unity which consti- 
 tutes seientiiic truth; philosophy embraces, while it 
 transcends the standpoints alike of science and common- 
 senso in the ultimate all-comprehensive unity which 
 constitutes jdiilosophic truth. Hence, as it has been justly 
 said, every serious philosophy, that is, every statement of 
 pliilosoi>hie truth whicli claims to be even approximately 
 adequate, must include materialism — materialism being 
 the final expression of an interpretation of the universe 
 on strictly scientific lines. Any statement or pretended 
 
V 
 
 398 
 
 MODERN FHILOSOrHY. 
 
 CONCLtTSION. 
 
 399 
 
 •temeiit of the philosophic position which conflicts with 
 iy of the positive doctrines of a scientific matonalism majr 
 therefore be without hesitation ignored. "Philosophy, 
 as Professor Seth has it, - is ready, accordingly, to accept 
 and patronisi' any theory wliich science and history may 
 establish. Idealism accepts all that Physiology has to say 
 alKHit the dependence of thought on the organism, and is 
 not discomfited by the most materialistic statements ot the 
 facts. It admits, as a matter of course, the emi)irical deri- 
 vation of all our conscious life from feeling or sensation. 
 From the philosophical standpoint the old antagonisnis 
 and controversies lose moaning, or at least their nature is 
 entirely changed ; they are sublimated, so to si.cak aiid 
 reappear in a higher atmosphere. Distinctions wliicH 
 under their former aspect appeared shari>, clearly de- 
 finable and irreconcilably oppos.-.l, now resolve theinselves 
 into a mere questi(jn of emphasis. Sucli, as we take it, is 
 the case with Materialism and Idealism, iheism and 
 Atheism, &c. A formulation of the philosophn^ interpre- 
 tation of the world whicli shall entirely abolish tliem 
 remains as yet a desitleratum ; but from even a more or 
 less inadequate statement of phik)sopliic theory, sue i as 
 Ilecrelianism, all their former iuiportanee has vani>]ied ; 
 neither side is confirmed or refuted, l)Ut tliey are deprived 
 of interest in proportion as their opposition tends to 
 become insignificant. i • xu 
 
 To attain to a complete view of the worhl, sucli is the 
 end of philosophy. Science rationalises the luaterial 
 furnished by common experience ; pliilosopliy rationalises 
 the material furnished l)y science. The raiionahty of 
 either is not the coinage of our brain, l»ut a itart ot the 
 nature of things. The categories of science are real, not- 
 withstanding that they may conflict with the cruder 
 notions of coinmon-seuse ; but, \'iewed from the standpoint 
 of common-sense, they are, nevertheless, ideal. The siime 
 with philosophy; its categories also are real at the same time 
 that they are ideal. From the points of view of common- 
 
 * Of course it remains an open question whether current statementa 
 of the Hegelian position do not have a formal bias wliieli iti effect 
 gives the whole au aiiti-materiaU.it character. This question has been 
 already discussed. 
 
 
 sense and the scientific intellect respectively, they are ideal. 
 Philosophy i-ees an ultimate identity in the contradictions 
 which from lower planes of thought are irreconcilable ; it 
 sees identity in opposition, being in becoming, the poten- 
 tial in the actual, the matter in the form. These distinc- 
 tions are only maintained as aspects of a wh'de, and their 
 si<rnificance as opposites consists merely in the generic 
 pnority or posteriority of their respective momenta as 
 constitutive of the essence of this whohi. The meaning 
 of the history of jdiilosoidiy then consists in its being an 
 eftbr t of the human mind to attain a view ( .f this Essence-- 
 Eeality— in the generic order of its deduction, by which 
 alone the truw meaning of the synthesis as a whole, no less 
 than that of the elements constituting it, is discernible. 
 There is, therefore, as we said before, but one pliilosophy as 
 there is but one physical science. jMetaphysic like Physic 
 is a ctrtain way oi' envisaging and transforming the real 
 world of sensible experience. Every system of any historical 
 significance has difierentiated itself from other systems by 
 emphasizing some point or aspect which the rest had 
 neglected. Its defect as a system consists in its having 
 souo-ht to give exclusive prominence to this particular 
 aspect to the exclusion of others— m its endeavouring to 
 constitute this abstracted element a wliole in itself. ^ ^ 
 
 By the inner necessity of its own nature the mind is 
 bound to pass through' certain successive stages, such as 
 dogmatism, empiricism, scepticism, in one form or another 
 liefore it is in a po>ition to grasp the properly philosophic 
 point of view. It is wliat we may term a part ot the 
 natural freemasonry of things tliat the mind cannot reach 
 the superior without liaving previously passed over 
 the inferior steps. In the mysteries of the ancient reli- 
 <nous cults during the earlier stages of his initiation, the 
 ultimate doctrine to the reception of wliich those stages 
 were preparatory, was carefully liidden fr*>iu the neophyte. 
 In philosophy, on the otlier'hand, there is no need of 
 artificial concealment ; tlie whole of Kegel may be an open 
 book to the student, so far as paper and print is concerned, 
 and yet it will be absolutely sealed lore to him, as regards 
 discovering any meaning in it, if he have not passed 
 through the preliminary s'ages of his speculative initiation. 
 
MODERN PHILOSOrHY. 
 
 400 
 
 rn th^ first blush of youth the mind unhesitatingly accepts 
 all tilings in their immediateness, be it " common-sense, 
 " morall?;, " or what-not. The period of rf-t.^n follows 
 in which tonimon-sen.e and naive moral sentiment aie 
 nef^ated in Hcepticism and cynicism ; this P^^^f »[ thoi^S^t^ 
 wLioli the Germans term the Aajklaruny, is fo'lowHl by 
 another which consists in the recognition that these things 
 are not entirely empty of all content as *"««*''«*«"?: 
 posed, albeit the content they possess is entirely d'A^ent 
 from that crudely attributed to them in the naive stage of 
 
 ^E^'*once come to know the world in the generic 
 order of its articulation as a rational whole. ^^^ are irresis- 
 tibly driven to moot the problem of the end. P"'"!*'^ °' 
 teloLi this world ; that whither it-and a fortjan man the 
 highest product up to date of natural reyolution-is tend- 
 inS.. The only way in which the final aim or ideal of pro- 
 gress can be formulated in a single sentence, is that it 
 ^.nsists in the realisation-the bringing to consciousness 
 of the world in .ts full meaning. Tins is, of course, only 
 another wav of repeating that the end of progress is the 
 actualization of the in.munent pu. l-ose ol the world But can 
 we discover any ade-piate fornaila for this absolute world- 
 tel.w itself. The thinker who has faced the problem must 
 unhesitatingly answer uo. ^\^ n,ay, of course, inake use ot 
 phrases such as the time-honoured " good . of Hato, but 
 without nearer definition tl.ey n.ust remain little more 
 than phrases. Further, w, :„x- bound to regard, e.r;.!/po<7,e«, 
 this telo, as absolute finality, while we are conscio.is of 
 
 • To 1b1;c an illustration of this h!ip-h..zard ; tlie unsophisticated 
 
 mii„l never doubU the existence of iiuro dUintereste.ln.ss ,n moral 
 
 ™t on n follower of HcUetina demou»tmtea the non-exialence of 
 
 p^^li Si^nler.sted action, the nnsopl.isticuted ™"d .'7™'^ *" 
 
 leraoLlration an,l endeaionrs to J'''™'' .!'%"' ';°^'°^"PV^'";^ff" 
 
 vain-the cynic triumphs nnd the "n«'P''"''"\''''Vr. ,1^ ^Tum^ and 
 desonir. Tlio philosopher at la»t appears, and proves the triumph ana 
 Sir to be' alike irrational since although it is true that the 
 tareabst act and immediate /onn of all motive wlmtever l» ^f"l^r^?^ 
 v^t th,^ this d,«.s not in any way atlect the fact that tin- content of the 
 mot e a ud ih refor.- the real end of the action, may he whol y without 
 ^frjen'ce o even opi-m-d to the personal interest of the individual 
 I^rformins the action, and .hat .his is all that .» really meant when 
 pure diaiiittJieateduesa is 8iM>keu ot. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 401 
 
 the fact that finality in this sense — a being in which there 
 is no becoming, a form with no material content — ^involves 
 an abstraction, and therefore no longer possesses the con- 
 ditions of a real synthesis. 
 
 Let US approach the problem from another point of 
 view. Cannot we regard human happiness, it may be 
 asked, as the purpose of progress? To this it may be 
 answered that pleasure or happiness, be it individual or 
 social, can never be an end in itself, although, it 
 is true, it must form an element of every end, where 
 human action is concerned. It is a triter observation 
 tliat the search for pleasure qua pleasure invariably defeats 
 its own object. Pleasure or happines^s is consequent on 
 the attainment of an end which constitutes, so to speak, 
 the substance or essence of which pleasure is a determitja- 
 tion. The immediate pursuit of pleasure, therefore, con- 
 sidered as an end in itself, is the pursuit of an unreal 
 abstraction. The desired object, end, or ideal of acticn 
 is hence, we repeat, a substance or essence of which pleasure 
 must indeed be a predicate, but which is primarily pursued 
 for its own sake. On the hypotliesis of pleasure per se ex- 
 hausting the whole content of the end sought after, the 
 ultimate distinction between higher and lower in taste 
 or in aim remain unaccounted for ; the old problem of the 
 pig happy and Sokrates miserable, in spite of all special 
 pleading, is left unresolved. But while contending thus 
 far against the view of Hedonism as commonly formu- 
 lated, we must not forget that the opposite school ignore 
 the fact that our only criterion of the intrinsic worth of 
 an action can but be as to whether it conflicts or not with 
 the free development of ourselves or others, or of society 
 collectively ; and that a fortiori the highest end of action 
 consists in the removal of the impediments in the way of 
 that free development — in other words, in that which tends 
 to the greatest possible satisfaction of the immediate wants 
 and aspirations of all men — which, it may be said, is only 
 another way of putting the hedonistic criterion. To 
 argue otlieiwise is to revert to a dogmatic standpoint 
 which arbitrarily fixes the purpose of Keality. The 
 admission that happiness per se cannot rationally be 
 conceived as constituting the telos of the world-order does 
 
 2 D 
 
402 
 
 MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 not preclude the conviction that it is logically indissoliible 
 from it iD itself, or that it is the primary condition of its 
 realisation. To imagine that this can yield to aoy apnon 
 assumption as to what tends to or is involved in the 
 ultimate realisation of the world-i)nr,K>8e, as is dune by 
 the late Thomas Hill Green, and other ^eo-Hegelmns of 
 his school, can only l)e regarded as a disastrous attempt 
 to treat a purely regulative conception as con^tltutlve. 
 
 The endeavour to formulate the absolutA) end of con- 
 sciousness, or the immanent purpose of the worlr , and 
 to make this the basis of ethics, is tU great charac- 
 teristic of the ethical or quasi-universal religions. 1 he.se 
 have one and all endeavored, so to spt^ak, to strike out a 
 short cut by which the grand demmment mi-ht be placed 
 within reach of the individual soul. Divers are the 
 methods in the various creeds by which pej^^tion, the 
 perfect good, Nirvana, union with God, or wliat-not, is to 
 te attained, but they all lie in the severance of the in- 
 dividual from nature and society and the pleasures ot the 
 phenomenal world, in the destruction of Ins natura 
 appetites and affections, and in his co.nplete withdrawal 
 within himself. In the individual sonl, the world-principle 
 is believed to realise itself. The primal impulse tuwaixl 
 recreneiation and the realisation of the world-purpose is 
 hence supposed to come from within The consciousness 
 is now awakening in men that there is no sh.)rt cut 
 to perfection or to the Absolute, whether on its speculative 
 sid^as first principle, or on its practical side, as final end 
 of the world, and that the attc^mpt ot impatient humanity 
 to make one is an illusion, in brief, that it involves an 
 unreal abstraction. The day of the etl.ical rehgions is 
 visibly waning, and one can oidy view with regret the 
 futile efforts of aide and earnest men like tlie late 1 roiessor 
 Green, wlio, Ibllowing in the steps of Kant and the iH.st- 
 Kantians, would stake their wliolo intellectual career m 
 the forlorn hope of resuscitating the - ethics of inward- 
 ness " With the decline of the religions ot introspective 
 individualism, the significance of the individnal as such 
 pales and the consciousness grows, tliat only in and 
 through a weary course of social development, lies the 
 path of progress, the way of the woi Id-destiny. Freedom, 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 403 
 
 which implies the satisfaction of existent want for each and 
 for all — first and foremost the animal wants the intro- 
 spectivist disdains — is the first condition of that higher 
 social life which is the fiirthest visible summit of progress. 
 
 This consciousness involves a radical change in our 
 ethical and religious attitude. Morality, as it becomes 
 political and social, loses its exclusively pertonal character. 
 {Sin and Holiness, the supreme ethical categories of 
 *' introspection," are superseded henceforth in reality if 
 not in name. 
 
 The attempt to formulate the telos of the Real, the im- 
 manent purpose of the world, is surrendered ; much, more 
 the vain effort to reach it by the old methods. We 
 expect no longer to attain it as individuals by ecstasy, 
 contemplation, or inward illumination : '* Immer holier muss 
 ich streben, Immer weiter mussich schaun," may still l>e 
 our motto, but our strivings and our constant looks are 
 directed not to possible heights enshrouded in cloudland, 
 but to the limit only of our clear and distinct vision. We 
 know, at all events, tliat tliis summit must be reached, 
 whatever may be beyond, before that beyond can become, 
 in its turn, a distinct ideal, much more a reality. This 
 point of view in its own way demands in very truth the 
 sacrifice, the negation, of the individual, but it is not as 
 with the introspective religions, the first step in a circular 
 process which begins with the natural iudiviiiual, and 
 ends with the apotheosized individual, and hence w^hich, 
 its ])rimary negation of the individual notwithstanding, 
 remains individualistic ; but a negation of the individual 
 onl\' in so far as this is essential to the realisation of 
 that higlier social whole into which he enters. In short, 
 the abnegation of self becomes on this view a mere 
 accident of morality, and not, as before, a part of its 
 substance. 
 
 " rhilo-ophy,"8ays Hegel, "deals only with the universal 
 individual ; " the general form of individuation or pjerson- 
 ality may be deducible, but not the concrete iiersonality 
 determined in a si)ecific time-content. " The individual 
 in this sense," as Fichte has well said, " belongs to the 
 element of the puiely contingent ; " and we would ad<l its 
 meaning, its reality, is to be found in so.iety; for society 
 
404 
 
 MOPEBN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 renresents the highest actual realisation of the world 
 pSle by ^vhatover name we call it "nonn'« Gluck 
 
 \ "rz^Lilbe! Gott." There.is -f^'-S-^Zt"lnt?::^^l 
 society. Society or humanity stands for t^at univei.al 
 l,..rsonality which is permanent and alndrng in the flux of 
 Lo particular, the individual co.^titutmg it. JVl^e »^. 
 this larger life manifesting itself on the plane of histoiy 
 Tfor-itself in the individual subjectivities, which are its 
 e;ii sl{ components, is destined ,o attain to .n-a,^ 
 for-itselfness in the time order in other w,>rds, to be its 
 own subject, is a question which ever and anon recurs to 
 one Lore especially when one reflects on the ruth essness 
 with which historic evolution sacr.fieos the individual 
 man on the altar of progress, and above all when one 
 f,...Is that the noblest type of individual character is 
 that which is prepared for this sacrifice when the occa^ou 
 «rise8. Such a speculation, if we like to entertain it, is 
 as worthy as any which conceives of a perpetuity of 
 individual existence as such. 
 
 A word may be expected in conclusion, as *» t^e 
 immediate fature and prospects of philosophy, ^'"'co the 
 death of Hegel there has been no great ..rigiual philo- 
 Bophic genius, no thinker who has thrown any essentially 
 new light ..n the ultimate problem rf philosophy. Dog- 
 inatic Pessimism, that product of effete civilization, has 
 hadapa-ssing success. Great scientifac generahzers like 
 Herbert Spencer have formulated the ultimate principles 
 of Cosmologv, in the light of the two great scientifac 
 :chrevemen?s ^f the age the doctrines of the " 1 ersistence 
 of force " and of " Evolution." But, save for tlie lecent 
 academic movements of Ne..-Hegelianism there is little 
 noteworthy to record. The immediate future of philo- 
 sophy, the next fo, mulation of the ultimate w. aid problem 
 of lieing and knowledge, which ^hall appeal to tlie thn.k- 
 in.' portion of mankind, to a greater extent than even 
 Plato, Aristotle, or Hegel ever did, mi.st, we lielieve, bo 
 se<iuent on the realisation of that vast traustormation vvith 
 wllich the cunent order of things is b.g. "1 he republic 
 has no need of chemists," Lavoisier was told. 1 hus with 
 brutal frankness was the truth expressed, tliat in periods 
 
 CONCLUSIOS. 
 
 405 
 
 of great political and social change. Theory, as such, 
 be It scientific or philosophical, must cede to the all- 
 absorbing questions of Practice. The student as he lays 
 down this little volume, should he by chance take up a 
 newspaper, will inevitably light on accounts of great 
 strikes, of armaments, of the struggle for colonies called 
 imperial expansion, of vast popular revolutionary move- 
 ments, &c.. all of which point to one thing, when followed 
 out in all their bearings, the steady fPP™^" *!« 
 great class struggle. Let him ponder on this and bethink 
 himself of the ptirt even he, or if not he, his children i.iay 
 be forced to take in the resolution of that great living 
 contradiction-the contradiction bet^^;een individual and 
 society— expressed in what we term Modern Civilization. 
 
m 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Note.— The names of philoaopliical works are printed in ttaltcs. 
 
 Abelard, 116; his doctnne, 117 
 
 Abstract-Dogmatic systems of 
 modem philosophy, 144; reac- 
 tioii against scholasticism, 144; 
 Descartes, 14«}; Malebranche, 
 155; Spinoza, 157; Leibnitz, 
 167; Wolff, 175; Baumgarten, 
 175 ; Cmsiua, 176 
 
 Al)ii Beker, 121 
 
 Academics, the, 77 . 
 
 Achilles-puzzle to prove the im- 
 possibility ot motion, 34 
 
 A damson, Robert, 390 
 
 iEne^idemus, 80 
 
 iErithetic, Aristotle's, 74 ; Her- ^ 
 hart's, 308 ; Hegel's lectures on, 
 
 332 
 
 A'jrippa Saturninus, 8G 
 
 Albertus Magnus, 124 
 
 Albigensianism, 102 
 
 Alchemists and cosmic speculators 
 of the sixteenth century, 137; 
 the epoch of tlie " occult sciences,' 
 138; Reuchlin, 138; Agrippa, 
 von Nettesheim, 138 ; Paracelsus, 
 139; Cardanus. 142 ; authorities, 
 
 143 
 Alexander the Great a pupil of 
 
 A-ristotic 66 
 Alexandria, the seat of Neo-Plato- 
 
 niam, 89 
 Alexandrian Gnoetics, the, 100; 
 
 Basilides, 100 ; Karpok rates, 100 ; 
 
 Valentinus, 100 ; doctrines, 101 
 Alexandrian trinity, the, 94 
 Alfarabi. 120 
 
 Al Ghazzali, 121 
 
 Alkendi, 119 
 
 Amnionius Saccas, 92 ; reputed a 
 
 Christian, 107 
 Annxagoras, life, 39; philosophy. 
 
 39, 68 ; teacher of f^okratee, 44 
 Anaximandros, 24, 68 ; inventions, 
 25; speculations on the primal 
 substance, 25 ; on evolution, 25 
 Anaximenes, life, 26 ; doc-trines, 27 
 Anselm, 114; his phUosophy 
 8ub8er\'ient to theology, 114; 
 doctrines, 114: dispute with 
 RoBcellinuB, 115 
 Antinomies of tlie pure reason, 244 
 Antiochus of Askulon, 77 
 Auti»thenes, 49 : founds the Cynic 
 Bcho«d, 49 : virtue to be attained 
 by asceticism, 49 
 Anvtos, 46 
 Apocrypha, tendency to Greek 
 
 thou}iht in the, 89 
 ApoUodorus, 82 
 Alwllonius of Tyana, 88 
 Aquinas, Thomas, 125; his doc- 
 trines, 125; two sources of 
 knowledf^o, 125; hii influence 
 on later thought, 126 
 Arabian philosophers, 119; Al- 
 kendi, 119; Alfarabi, 120; Avi- 
 cenna, 120; Al Glmz/ali, 121; 
 Abu Bfker, 121 ; Averrws, 121 
 Aristii.pus, 48; founds Cyrenaic 
 
 8ch(>f)l. 48; writings lost, 49 
 Aristophanes, ignorant satire of 
 I phili'sopby, 44 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 407 
 
 Aristotle, birth and education, 65 ; 
 tutor to Alexander the Great, 
 GO; lecturing and death, 66; 
 early writings, 66 
 Ari^totle's philosophy, definition 
 of philosophy, 3, 07; his doc- 
 trines not derived from Sokrates, 
 21 ; his scliool conipleioentiiry, 
 not opposed, to that of Plato, 51 ; 
 Aristotle the founder of the in- 
 ductive method and of natural 
 science, 53; editions of his 
 writings, 67 ; division of philo- 
 sophy into logic, physics, and 
 ethics, 67; what is a principle? 
 67; on matter and form, 68; on 
 efficient and final causes, 69, 70 ; 
 on rtality, 69; cosmologi'-al ar- 
 gument, 71; on Nature, 71; 
 hiiitpiuess the goal of human 
 activity, 72; virtues, 73; the 
 Politics, 13 ; art-philosophv, 74; 
 theory of formal logic, 75; the 
 range of his writings, 75; bib- 
 liography, 76; referred to, 60, 
 91,112, 117, 120,124,396 
 Ar*8toxenus, 77 
 Arius, heresy of, 107 
 Arkesiiaus, 77 
 
 Art, a quietude of the will, 298; 
 
 the chief fKriods of, and their 
 
 characteristics, Hegel on, 332 ; 
 
 the progress of, Hej^el on, 333 
 
 Art, philo.sophv of, Aristotle's, 74 ; 
 
 Schellings, 283, 286 
 Athanasius, 107 
 Athenagoras, 104 
 
 Atomists, phii'sophical system of 
 the, 40; nature and action of 
 atoms, 41 ; explanation of per- 
 ception, 41 
 Atoms, nature and action of, 41 
 Autrnstine of Hippo, 108 ; his be- 
 lief, 108; his Piatoni.^ra, 108; 
 his orthodoxy only apparent, 109 
 Aurelius, IVlarcus, 80, 87 
 Authorities for. Oriental thonglit, 
 20 ; Greek philosophy, 23 ; Hera- 
 kleitos, 38 ; Plato and Aristotle, 
 76; the IStoics and Epicureans, 
 
 84 ; the Gnostics and Christian 
 Fatliers, 110; the philosophy of 
 the IVIiddle Ages, 130 ; the Ger- 
 ma'i Mystics, 131 ; the sixteenth 
 century speculators, 143 ; Spinoza, 
 107 
 
 Averroes, 121 
 
 Avicebron, 123 
 
 Avicenna, 120 
 
 Baader, F., von, 287 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 177; founder of 
 the Empiricist movement, 177; 
 survey of knowledge, 178 ; philo- 
 sophy, 178, 215 
 
 Bain, Alexander, and his works, 
 378 
 
 Bardesanes, 101 
 
 Bardili, 254 
 
 Basilides, 100 
 
 Bauer, Bruno, 338, 340 
 
 Bauer, Edgar, 340 
 
 Baumgarten, Alexander Gottlieb, 
 175 
 
 Baur, Ferdinand Christian, 339 
 
 Bayle, Dictionnnire, 10 
 
 Beattie. James, 203 
 
 lieck, 254 
 
 Bekker, Balthasar, 155 
 
 Berkeley, George, 188; account of 
 his work, 188, 216; no universal 
 idea, 189; what we mean by 
 "material substance," 189 ; con- 
 cluaion from his analysis. 191 ; 
 his aim and writings, 192 ; works, 
 193 
 
 Blakey, Robert, history of philo- 
 sophy, 13 
 
 Bothnie, Jacob, 286 
 
 Bocthius, 96 
 
 " Bombastic," origin of tlie word, 
 140 
 
 Bonnet, Charles, 204 ; works, 205 
 
 Brown, TJioinas, 203 
 
 Bruoker, Johann Jacob, history of 
 philosophy, 10, 13 
 
 Bruno, Giordano, 134, 137; wan- 
 derings, 134; death, 135; philo- 
 sophy, 135 
 
 Buddha, 98 
 
408 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Bahle, J. G., history of pldloflophy, 
 
 11 
 Biirdach, 287 
 
 Cabanis, 213 
 
 Cair.l, Edward. 3(K), 391,392 
 
 Campanella, ThouiMS, 137 
 
 Cardatms, Hieronymua, and bis 
 works, 142 
 
 Carvaka, school of, 119 
 
 Causality, Schopenhauer's four 
 forms of the principle of, 29<1 
 
 Causation, Hume's tJieory of, 196 
 
 Champeaux, William of, 116 
 
 Chosroes, 96 
 
 Christ, Gnostic idea of the, 101 
 
 Christian Dogmatics in their De- 
 velopment, Strauss* s, 339 
 
 Cliristian trinity dislinj^uishedfrom 
 the Neo-Platonic, 94 
 
 Christianity; influence of Neo- 
 Platonism on, 92; of the sixth 
 century, 97 : the anti-worldliness 
 of, 98 : the reason of its supre- 
 macy, 99 ; its dogmas formulated 
 by Athanaaius, 107; at Nicfiea, 
 107 
 
 Chrysippns, 79, 80 
 
 Cicero and his pliiloaophical works, 
 87 
 
 Claude, 213 
 
 Cltmeiit of Alexandria, 104 
 
 Common sense, attached by Plato, 
 55 : recognised by Aristotle, 67 
 
 Comte, August©, deiiiiitioii of pliilo- 
 sophy, 4 ; life, 364, 374 ; parallel 
 between the doctrines of Comte 
 and Hegel, 365; the Pogitive 
 Fhihmyphy, 367 ; Comte's law of 
 the three stsiges ot philosophy, 
 367; Sociology the goal of all 
 Beience8,36H ; arrangeintntof the 
 sciences, 368: Comte's view of 
 historic evolution, 369 ; his 
 scheme of social reconstrnction, 
 872; Sociology not founded l)y 
 Comte, 373 ; the real advance he 
 made, 374 ; his defective charac- 
 ter, 374 ; revered by his followers, 
 375 ; nature of |)Obitivism, 376 
 
 Condillac. Etieime Bonnot de. 203 ; 
 
 works, 203; Sensutionism, 204 
 Cosmologicftl argument of Aristotle, 
 
 71 
 
 Cosmology of the Pythagorean 
 
 system, 32 ; of Aristotle, 71 ; of 
 
 Paracelsus, 140 
 Cousin, Victor, history of philo- 
 sophy, 13 
 Critique of Praeh'cnl Reasm, Kant's, 
 
 225, 248 
 Critique of Pure Renmn, Kant's, 
 
 217, 223, 224, 234, 236, 238, 241, 
 
 244, 247 
 Critique of the Fuenlty of Judgrrtent. 
 
 KHnf8,'225, 252 
 Cromaziano, history of philosophy, 
 
 11 
 Crusius, Christian August, 176 
 Cynic Schwl, 49 ; origin of theitamc, 
 
 49 ; its sole end the avoidance of 
 
 pl( asure, 49 
 Cyrenaic School, 48 
 
 Damascius, 96 
 De anima, Aristotle's, 72 
 Degdrando, history of philosophy, 13 
 Demiurge, the, 61, 101 
 Demokriti«s, 40; founder of the 
 
 Atomistic system, 40 
 Dt^Bcartes, Rene, and his works, 
 
 146; doctrines, 147; character, 
 
 154 
 Descartes* philosof»hy, 147; *3Ie- 
 
 thotlicDoul.t,' 147; the existence 
 
 of self, 147. 214; of G(xl. 149; 
 
 canon of investigation, 149, 214; 
 
 independent conceptions. 150; 
 
 Descartes' dualism, 151 ; his 
 
 pliysics, 151; physical the^ories. 
 
 159, 170, 186, 214 
 Drslandes, history of philosophy, 10 
 Diakctic, the Hegelian, 313; use 
 
 of the term, :»24 
 Di'lerot, Denis, life, 206 : works, 
 
 207; uiHterialisui, 207; method, 
 
 210 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 409 
 
 Dikearchus, 77 
 
 Diogenes Laertius, history of philo- 
 sophy, 10 
 
 Diogenes of Apollonia, birthplace, 
 27; philuBophy. 27; the fir>t to 
 Bt'»te the principle of Monism, 
 28, 51 
 
 Diogenes of Sinope, 50 
 
 Diogenes the Stoic, 80 
 
 Duhring. Eugen, history of philo- 
 sophy, 13; doctrinrs, 361 
 
 Duns Scotus, 127 ; writings, 127 ; 
 doctrine, 128 
 
 ECKHART, 131 
 
 Ego, activity of the, 260 
 
 Eidology, 3(16 
 
 Eleatic school, 33; Xenophanes, 
 
 33; Parnienides,33; Melissosand 
 
 Zeuo, 34 
 Emotions, Hume's classification of 
 
 the, 199 
 Emptdukles, birth, 88; doctrine of 
 four elements, and uniting and 
 separating jirinciples, 38, 68 ; ex- 
 |)lanation of sense perception, 
 
 39 
 
 Empirical-Seeptioal schools of mo- 
 dern philoH.pliv, 177: Bac.»n, 
 177: Hol>i)es, 180; Loeke, 182; 
 Berkeley, 188 ; Hume, 193 ; 
 Reid, 201 
 
 Encvdopffh'e, the, 207 
 
 Encyklof,(hUe, kc, Hegel s, 325, 327, 
 
 328, 349 , 
 
 Enfield, condenpation of Bruckers 
 
 history, 11, 13 
 
 Ens:els,"Friedrieh, 341 
 
 Eiitrftien eidre D'Ah-mhert et 
 Di'lerot, Diderot's, 207, 208, 210 
 
 Epictrtus, 80, 87 
 
 Ei)i<'urean8, doctrines of the, 81 ; 
 their kan(mik, 81 ; physics, 81 ; 
 ethies, 81; their doctrines not 
 original, 82 , ., v 
 
 Ei.icuruP. definition of phdosophy, 
 3, 67 : life, 80 
 
 Epiphunes, 103 
 
 Erdrnaim. J.^ E., history of philo- 
 sophy, 12, 314 
 
 Erigena, Johannes Scotus, 111, 
 doctrines, 112 
 
 Ef^enlieck. yon. 287 
 
 Esmr/ on fh'- Hniuan Understanding^ 
 Locke's, 182, 187 
 
 Essenes, the, 90 
 
 E(hi€S, Ari.-totle's, 73: Spinoza s, 
 l.'SS. 15!*, 160. I«i2, 16:^,166,167 
 
 Euklid of Megara, 48; foun.ls 
 IMegaric school, 48 ; writings 
 lost, 49 
 
 Evcdution, anticipation of, by 
 AnaximaTidros, 26 ; Hegel's err<.r 
 concerning, 327; Spencer's defi- 
 nition of, iSS4 ; princii>lesof, 885 ; 
 tendency towards equilibration, 
 
 387 
 Experience, nature of, 67, 196; all 
 knowledge derived from, 183; 
 how possible, 226 
 
 Fathers, the Christian, 103; the 
 philosophic Fathers, 103; Justin 
 Martyr, 103; Athenagoras, 104; 
 Theophilus, 104; Irenaeus, 104; 
 Hipi>olvtns, 104 ; Minncius Felix. 
 104; Clement of Alexandria, 104 ; 
 Orijxen. 105 ; the dogmatic 
 F.itheis, 106: Athanasius, 107; 
 Augustine of Hippo, 108; autho- 
 rities, 110 
 
 Fayorinus. 86 
 
 Ferrier, 377 
 
 Feuerback. Ludwig Andreas, 341 
 
 Fichte, Johnnu Gottlieb, life, 256; 
 works, 257 
 
 Fichte's philosophy. 258 ; * Theory 
 of Knowledge,' 258 ; tlie task of 
 philosophy, 258 ; fundamental 
 axiom of the Theory of Know- 
 ledge, 259 ; second axiom, 261 ; 
 third axiom, 261 ; division of the 
 Theory of Knowledge into specu- 
 lative and practical, 262; ' Specu- 
 Ifttive Theory of Knowledge,' 
 263; standpoint and system of 
 the * Theory of Science,' 263 ; its 
 method, 2f?6: 'Practical Theory 
 of Knowledge,' 2< l7 ; liow the Ego 
 comes to ascribe causality to 
 
410 
 
 i]n)EX. 
 
 itaelf, 267 ; freedom of the indi- 
 vidual, 270 : anticipations of 
 Socialism, 271; Fichte's ethics, 
 271; the fallacy of the intro- 
 spective ethics as a basis for 
 conduct, 275; opponition to 
 Fichte's philosupliy, 277 ; retro- 
 epect and criticism,' 347 ; referred 
 to, 278. 280, 282, 284, 286, 287. 
 300, 319, 347, 403 
 
 Ficinua, Marsilius, 133 
 
 Fi-rulus, Nigidius, 88 
 
 First FrimijM Speucer*s, 381, 382, 
 383, 38<>, -688 
 
 Fischer, Kuno, 344 
 
 Force, Principle of the persistence 
 of, and its consequence:*, 382 
 
 Form, as understood by Aristotle, 
 
 68 
 Fouillec, Alfred, history of philo- 
 sophy, 13 
 Foiindatkm for the. Meiaphysic of 
 
 Ethic, Kant's, 225, 248 
 Fourfold root oj the principle of 
 
 adequate camet JSchopenhauer's, 
 
 289, 290 
 Fruueustadt, 301 
 Free-will, upheld by Aristotle, 73 ; 
 
 admitted by Leilmitz. 173 ; Hume 
 
 on, 196; d'Holbaeh on, 212; 
 
 Herbart on, 309 
 French materialist ecliool, 203 ; 
 
 Condillac, 2<)3 : Bonnet, 204r ; 
 
 Helvetius, 205 ; La Mettrie, 206; 
 
 Diderot, 206; d'Holbaeh, 211 
 Fries, 254 
 
 Gadants, 77 
 
 Gang, 338 
 
 Gerniau mysticism of fourteenth 
 anil fifteenth centuries, 130 ; 
 Eckhart, 131; Tatd.ir, 131; *A 
 German theology,' 131 ; autho- 
 rities, 131 
 
 Gersonides, 124 
 
 Gnosticism, 100: ori{?in and pro- 
 gress, 100; Alexandrian (inostics, 
 100; Syrian Gnostics, 101 : doc- 
 trines, 101 ; idea of the Christ, 
 101 ; refuted by Irenajus, 104 
 
 God, Descartes* ar^ment for the 
 existence of, 149; the God of 
 Leibnitz, 171 
 
 Gorgias, 42, 49 
 
 Gorgiai^ Fbitos, 56 
 
 Goschel, 338 
 
 Greek philosophy, periods of, 21 ; 
 authorities, 23; I. Fre-Sokratic 
 Schools, 23; XL Sokmtes, 44; 
 
 III. Plato and Aristotle, 51; 
 
 IV. Academies and Peripatetics, 
 Stoics, Epicureans and Sceptics, 
 77; V. It' 'man and Antiquarian 
 period, 85; VI. Neo-Platonism, 
 89 
 
 Green. T. H., 390, 392 
 G winner, Dr., 301 
 
 Haldane, J. 8., 390 
 
 Haldane, R. B., 390 
 
 Hamann's oppfjsition to Kant's 
 philosophy, 253 
 
 Hamilton, Sir William, 377, 378 
 
 Hartenstein, 310 
 
 Hartmann, Edward von, 352; his 
 philosophy, 352 ; reconciling the 
 dfx;triues of Hegel and Schopen- 
 hauer, 353; conjunction of will 
 and intelligence, 353 ; the happi- 
 ness of the conscious individual, 
 not the jiurpose of the world, 
 3')5; the possibility of realising 
 tiiis happiness an illusion, 355 ; 
 defects of Hartmami's system, 
 357 
 
 Hebrew prophets, the, and the 
 " gospel of inwardness," 98 
 
 Hegel, Georg Wilhehn Friedrich, 
 life, 310; work with Schelliug, 
 311 ; works, 311 
 
 Hegelian school, the, 338 
 
 Hegelian system, the, definition 
 ot philosophy, 4; the ultimate 
 principle of knowled<;e, 312 ; dia- 
 lectical niethml of Hegel, 313; 
 basis of the Heiielian dialectic, 
 315; the progress of knowledge 
 shown, 317; stages which the 
 mind and humanity jwiss through 
 before attaining absolute kuow- 
 
 INDEX, 
 
 411 
 
 lodge, 319; extracts from the 
 ' Phenomemdogy ' in illustration 
 of Hegel's style, 319 ; his logic, 
 322; its three main divisions, 
 323 ; use of the word dialectic, 
 324 ; first division of logic, the 
 doctrine of being, 325; second 
 division, the doctrine of essence, 
 325 ; third division, the doctrine 
 of concept, 326 ; correspondence 
 of these divisions with Kant's, 
 326; Hegel's philosophy of na- 
 ture. 327 ; his error concerning 
 evolution, 327; his division of 
 the philosojihy of nature, 327 ; 
 on the death of the individual, 
 328; his philosophy of rain<l, 
 329 ; its triple division, 329 ; his 
 ethic, 329; lectures ou the 
 philosophy of history, 330 ; Erd- 
 manu's opinion of them, 332 ; 
 lectures on aistlietic, 332; the 
 chief ])eriods of art and their 
 characteristics, 332 ; progress of 
 art, 333; Hegel's vit^w of the 
 significance of art, 334; phi- 
 losophy of religion, 334 ; har- 
 monisation between his system 
 and the Protestant Christianity 
 of Prussia, 334, 337, 339 ; history 
 of philosophy, 12, 335; collapse 
 of H. gelianibm as a scliool, 336 ; 
 its success as a distinct system, 
 337 : controversies after Hegel's 
 death, 338; retrosfxct and criti- 
 cism, 348 ; referred to, 288, 300, 
 347, 352, 3«;5, 396, 403 
 
 Heinrichs, 338 
 
 Heloise, 116 
 
 Helvetius, Claude Adrien, 165, 205; 
 doctrines, 205 
 
 Herakleitos, life, 36 ; cardinal 
 doctrine of eternal flux of things, 
 36, 52 
 
 Heraklides of Pontns, 77 
 
 Herbart, Johami Friedrich, 301 
 
 Herbart's philosophy : definitif>n of 
 philosophy, 4 : position of his 
 philosophy, 288 ; infiurnee of 
 Kantism on it, 302, 303 ; results 
 
 furnished by logic, 302; two 
 cliisses of conceptions, 302; re- 
 lation of physics and metaphysics, 
 303; division of metaphysics, 
 304; general metaphysics, in- 
 cluding logic and ontology, 304 ; 
 applied metaphysics, 305 ; syne- 
 chology, 305 ; eidology, 306 ; 
 psychology, 307 ; sestht^tics, 308 ; 
 theory of religion, 309 ; theory 
 of pedagogic, 309 ; politics, 309 ; 
 success of Herbart's lioclrines Hue 
 to their mathematical dress, 309 ; 
 retrospect and criticism, 348 
 
 Herder, J. G., opposition to Kant*8 
 philosophy, 253 
 
 Hereditary genius, Aristotle, an 
 example of, 66 
 
 Hermarchus, 82 
 
 Hermes Trismegistus, 90 
 
 Hermod«)rus, 77 
 
 Herrennius, 107 
 
 Hippias, 43 
 
 Hip[X), 27 
 
 Hipi^olytus, 104 
 
 History of philosophy, objection 
 to a condensed history, 8 ; need 
 of such a history, 9 ; three plans 
 of writing a history of philosophy, 
 9 ; ancient and modern histories, 
 10; Hegel's, 335 
 
 History, philosophy of, first hinted 
 at by Cardanus, 143; Kant's 
 views on, 250 ; Hegel's, 330 
 
 Holibes, Thomas, 180; definition of 
 philosophy, 180 ; experience ami 
 observation, the source of know- 
 ledge, 180; doctrine, 180, 215; 
 theory of society, 182 
 
 Holbach, Baron d', life, 211; the 
 iSysteme de la AWure, 211; ma- 
 terialism, 211; conception of 
 God, 212; free-will, 212; in- 
 fluence of materialism on conduct, 
 212 
 
 Hume, Da\'id, 193; works, 193; 
 position in the history of phi- 
 losophy, 194; impressions and 
 ideas, 194 ; nature of experience, 
 196, 216 ; free-will, 196; doctrine 
 
412 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 in- 
 
 of the flonl-8iib3tance, 197; 
 quiry into the ham of ntorah, WJ 
 Hypatia, 95 
 
 IDIA. the highest, to which all 
 others teiitl, 58 
 
 Ideal of the i»iire reason, 247 
 
 Ideas, aa uiulersto*Kl by Flato, 58; 
 DeBcartes' elasisitication of, 153; 
 not iimute, 183; of sensation and 
 of relation, 184; emimemtioni.f, 
 184; combination of, 185, 204; 
 all ideas only »tHtea <.f the raiud, 
 189; Hume's di>tiucti(m between 
 impresaioiis and ideas, 104; ideas, 
 as uuderstoiHl by Kant, 241 
 
 Ideas, uUimat.; 8cientiti<', 38l. 
 
 Idenff for ft Univeriiul Ehtorijy (fee, 
 Kaut'N 2.")ii 
 
 Ideas of pure reason, 243 
 
 Llentity. SchaUiiix's system of, 278 
 
 iHdieUual and his Property, Max 
 Sumer's, iH2 
 
 Induction, Aristotle's, condemned 
 hv Bacon, 179 
 
 Inductive method, foundation of, 
 45 ; Arii5t<itle the true fountler, 53 
 
 Intjuiry concerning Human Under- 
 stand iw}, Hume's, 193 ^ 
 
 Int'tiiuration of the Science*, Bacon 8, 
 
 1"8 . 
 
 Jnierpretaiion de la »ia«Mre,Didcrot s, 
 
 207, 208 
 Ionian scliools of philosophy, 22, 
 
 08 ; their prubk'ins, 22, 51 ; Thales, 
 
 23; Anaximandrus, 24; Auaxi- 
 
 menes, 2«i; Diogenes of Apol- 
 
 lonia, 27 
 IrensBUs, 104 
 Isidore, 90 
 Italian school of philosophy, 29; 
 
 PythagurriS, 29; Fytliagoraiii 
 
 System, 30 
 
 Jacobi, F. H., opposition to Kant's 
 philosophy, 254 ; to Fichte's, 277 
 
 Jambliehos, 94, 95 
 
 Jena AUqemeine Literatur ZeitHng, 
 the, on Kant's * Criticism,' 252 
 
 Jewiah pliilosophers, 122 ; doctrine 
 
 of the Kabb .la, 122 ; Aviccbrou 
 
 123 ; Maiiuonides, 123 
 Ju-tm Martyr, 103 
 Justinian, the Neo-Flatonic schools 
 
 closed by, 90 
 
 Kabbala, doctrine of the, 122; 
 
 study of, 138 
 Kanonik, the, of the Epicureans, 
 
 81 
 Kant and the Post-Kantians, schools 
 of, 214; Kant, 224; Ficlite, 25G; 
 gchelling, 278; Schopenhauer, 
 28U; Ibrbiit, 301; He^'el, 310; 
 the Heg. lian school, 338 ; on the 
 development from Kant to Hegel, 
 
 315 
 Kimt, Immanuel, life, 224; works, 
 224 ; editions of his works, 225 ; 
 his greatness. 250 
 Kant's philosophy: definition of 
 philosophy, 4; outline of his 
 philosophy, 217; 'The Critical 
 doctrine,* 225 ; how is experience 
 jx:.ssible ? 220 ; disatlvantage un- 
 der which Kant worked, 226; 
 * Transcendental iEsthetic,' 229; 
 meaning of * Transcendental,' 
 229; inquirv into the transcen- 
 dental conditions of sensibility, 
 229; 'Transcendental Analytic-, 
 231 ; the function of the under- 
 standing, 232 ; logical table of 
 judgments, 232; transcendental 
 table of the oonccjitions of the 
 understanding, 233; deduction 
 of the categr»rie8 from a primary 
 principle of consciousness, 233; 
 'Transcendental Dialectic,' 241; 
 ideas, 241; distinction between 
 the understanding and the 
 reason, 242; ideas of pure 
 reason, 243: i.uralogisras, 243; 
 antinr»mie», 244; ideal of pure 
 reason, 247 : Kant's moral phi- 
 losophy, 218; metapliysic of 
 ethics, 250; philosophy of his- 
 tory, 250; the goal of history. 
 250 ; Critique of the Faculty of 
 JwtgmenU 252; reception of tho 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 413 
 
 criKcal philosophy, 252; early 
 writers on Kantianism, 253; 
 opposition to Kant's doctrines, of 
 Hamunn, 253; of Herder, 253; 
 of Jacobi, 254; the position of 
 ' Criticism ' as a system, 255 ; 
 the transcendental method Kanfs 
 great heritage, 250; retrospet't 
 an«l critici!*ni, 345, 347 ; referred 
 to, 167. 180, 217, 200, 262, 263, 
 266, 269, 283, 286, 287, 290, 291, 
 302, 314, 326, 345, 347 
 
 Kameades, 77 
 
 Ivarpokmtes, 100 
 
 Kenite?, the, 102 
 
 Kerinthus, 100 
 
 KUanthes, 80 
 
 Klein, G. M., 287 
 
 Krates, 78 
 
 Kratylos, Phito's, 57 
 
 Krause, K. C. F., 287 
 
 Kritius, 46 
 
 La Mettrik, Julien Offroy de, 
 206 
 
 Laforet, history of philosophy, 13 
 
 Lange, Friedrich Albert, 362 ; 
 History of Materialism, 12, 362 ; 
 first part. Materialism before 
 Kant, 362 ; second part, Modern 
 Materialism, 363 
 
 Lao-tse, 16 
 
 Laws, Plato's, 64 
 
 Lef>en Jesu, Strauss's, 339 
 
 Leibnitz, Gottfried Willielm, 167; 
 studies, 168 
 
 Leibnitz's pliilosophy, 108, 215; 
 monads, 168, 172; their changes, 
 169 ; unconscious perception, 
 169 ; proL'ression among monads, 
 170 ; distinction between em]»iri- 
 cal and necessary truth, 171 ; God, 
 171; inconsistencies on his sys- 
 tem, 173; freedom of the will 
 admitted, 173; his system con- 
 trasted with that of Spinoza, 
 174 ; its inrtuence, 174 
 
 Leukippus, 40 
 
 Let'inthau, Hobbcs', 180 
 
 Lewes, Gtorge Henry, history of 
 
 philogophy, 13; work, 379; 
 Problems of Life and Mind, 379 ; 
 the aim of philosophy, 380; 
 result of his work, 380 
 
 Locke, John, 182; account of his 
 philosophy, 183; ideas not innate, 
 183, 216; 'ideas of sensation and 
 reflection, 183: enumeration of 
 ideas, 184; substances, 185; know- 
 ledge, 186; division of know- 
 ledge, 187; influence of his 
 writings. 187 
 
 Logic. Aristotle's theory of formal, 
 75 ; logic of the Stoics, 78 ; ot the 
 Epicureans, 81 ; the Port-Koyal 
 logic, 155; the Heyelian logic. 
 322 : its division, 323 
 
 Loj7i>, Hegel's, 311, 322 
 
 Logos, history and use of the word, 
 57, 103, 104, 107. 108, 112, 312 
 
 Lotze, Rudolph Hermann, 358 ; 
 definition of philosophy, 358 ; his 
 metaphysic, 359; its divisions, 
 359; his method borrowed from 
 Herbart, 360; want of originality 
 in his philosopliy, 361 
 
 Lucretius, 87 
 
 Lykou, 46 
 
 IMaoion, 254, '258 
 
 Mairaonides, and his doctrines, 123 
 
 Malebranche, Nicliohis, 155; his 
 niidii problem. 156, 215 
 
 Mauichicanism, 102 
 
 Munsel, H. L., 377 
 
 Marines, 96 
 
 Marx, Kari, 341, 344 
 
 Materialism, influence of, on con- 
 duct, 212; Langc's history of, 
 362 
 
 ^Materialist school, French, 203 
 
 Matter, as uuderstooil by Aristotle, 
 68 
 
 Maurice, F. D., history of philo- 
 sophy, 13 
 
 Medifeval philosophy. 111 ; the 
 earlier schoolmen. 111 ; the Ara- 
 bians and Jews, 119; the later 
 schoolmen, 124 : authorities, 130 
 
 Megaric school, 48 
 
414 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 415 
 
 Meletos. 46 
 MelisBOB. work of, 34 
 ^leiuory, Leibnitz on, 170 
 ilenauder, 101 
 
 Meno, Plato's, 59 „ „^„ _„- 
 
 MeAaphysic, Lotze's. 358, 359, 3bl 
 Metaphysical F(Mndatmm of ^tdu- 
 
 ral Si^tnee, Kaiit'a, 225, 240 
 Metaphysical - Physicists, the : 
 Herakleitos, 36; EBipedokl.s, 
 38; Anaxagoms, 39; the Atom- 
 
 ists 40 
 Metnphtjsiesy Aristotle's, 67, 74 
 Mctempirics, meaning of the word, 
 
 379 
 Method, the Sokratic, 45 
 Metrcxlorus, 82 
 Michek-t, K. L., edition ot H.-pe e 
 
 lectures, 12; his svnumary ot ilie 
 
 Hegelian systt-m, 33«, 344 
 Mill, James, 378 . 
 
 Mill, John Stuart. 377 ; his work 
 
 essentially critical, 378 ; its value, 
 
 378 
 MImansu, the, of Jaimini, 18 
 Miuucius Felix, 104 
 Modem philos(»phy, trnusilion to, 
 
 132 
 
 Btrupple of, with Christianity, 92 ; 
 Numenius and Ammonius Succas, 
 92 ; PIotinuB, i*2 ; tiie Neo- 
 Platouic trinity. 94; Porphyry, 
 94 ; Jambliclios, 94 ; Hypatia, 
 9.>; Proklos. 95; Marinuu, 96; 
 Isidore, 96 ; Damasoius, 96 ; the 
 school closed by Justinian, 9b; 
 decline of clusaio civilisation, 
 
 96 
 Neo-Pythagorean school, 88 
 Nettosheim, Cornelius Agrippa, von, 
 
 138 
 
 Nicolas of Chusa, 135, 139 
 
 Nomiuali.Hra and Kealism, contro- 
 versy between 115 
 
 Nourriason, J. F., history of philo- 
 sophy, 13 
 
 Nuvalis, 286 ^ 
 
 Novum Onjanum, Bacons, l<tf 
 
 Numenius, 92 
 
 Nyaya, the, t.f Gotania, 18 
 
 Occam, WilU.u.i of, 128; doctrines, 
 
 129 ; el se uf scholasticism, 130 
 Oki'ii, 287 
 Ophiti-a, the, 102 
 Onfanou, xXristotle's, 75 
 M^^m philosophy : «"! e^h, I Orientals ,,u:.-.,.lnl"»;>1^3;^ 
 
 Indian, 17; authorities, 20 
 Oriiren, 1»>:. ; liis position in Church 
 hidtury, 106 
 
 terns, 144 ; lirst epoc.., b. iht 
 Empirical-Sceptical schools, 1^* 
 secoiitl eiK>ch, Kant and the Post- 
 Kantiaiis, 214 
 Modes, the, of Spinoza, 160 
 Mouculology, Leibnitz s, 1 / 3 
 Mysticism, German, ot the four- 
 teenth and liftcenth centuries, 
 
 130 . ., 
 
 Mythology distinguished from philo- 
 sophy, 2 
 
 Natcbk, philosophy of, Schelling's, 
 
 284; Hegel's, 327 
 Neo-Hegelian fcchool, 390 ; its 
 
 doctrines, 390; its imj>ortance, 
 
 393 
 
 Neo-Platonism, 89; its ^^ J^ 
 Alexandria, 89; Philo, 89; the 
 characteiistic of the school, 90; 
 
 Paraiklsus, 139; character and 
 travels, 1S9 ; liis cosmological 
 systfMi, 140 
 
 Parulo^iisms of the pnre reason, l-i6 
 
 PainieiiideH, philosophy of, 33, 48 
 
 Farmtuidea, Flutos, .).), 57 
 
 Party, differences in a, not a sign of 
 its decay, 337 
 
 PauUcianism, 102 
 
 l'er<*eption. cxpluniition of, by 
 Empcdokks, 3'j; by the Atomists, 
 41 ; ditfen. net- V»et ween percept ion 
 and feeling. 179 ; mechanical ex- 
 planation of, opposed by Leib- 
 nitz, 169 
 
 II 
 
 Peripatetics, orii^n of their name; 
 60 ; their work, 77 
 
 Pessimism, Scliopenhauer the 
 founder of modern, 2t9, 296 
 
 FJia-do, Plato's, 56. 58 
 
 rhxdruH, Plato's, 59 
 
 JPhenomenohujy of the Mind, Hegel's, 
 311,317, 31 8,'319, 321, 322 
 
 Fhiltlm, Plato's, 59, 62 
 
 Piiilippus, 77 
 
 Pliilo, 89 ; his doctrines, 90 ; the 
 characteristic of his school, 90 
 
 Philo of Larisaa, 77 
 
 Fhilmophie Positive^ Comtc's, 365, 
 367, 3(J9, 370, 372, 373 
 
 Philosophy, the problem of, 1 ; its 
 scope, 2; ancient and modern 
 dehnitious of philosophy, 3, 358 ; 
 modern perversion of the word, 
 4 ; ancient division into logic, 
 physic and ethic, 5; modern 
 division into theory of know- 
 ledge, ontology and cosmology 
 (including paychology), 6 ; philo- 
 sophy beeome a prolitable pro- 
 fession, 85 ; state of, in the second 
 half of the eighteenth century, 
 217: task of, 25S; problem of 
 transcendental philosophy, 280 ; 
 Lotze's detiuition of, 358 ; Lewes 
 on the aim of, 380 ; unity of, 391 ; 
 rarity of true philosophictil in- 
 sight, 3i»o; explanation of the 
 apjMirent circularity of movement 
 in, 396 : relations between science 
 and pliilosophy, comprehensive- 
 ness of philosophy, 397 ; the end 
 ofphilosophy, 398; the purpose of 
 the world, 400; the immediate 
 pursuit of j)leasure not the end of 
 progress, 401 ; the decline of the 
 ethical religions, 402 ; humanity 
 the highest actual realisation of 
 the world-principle, 404 ; the 
 future of philosophy, 404 
 
 Philosophy of the VnconsciouSj Hart- 
 mann's, 352,;i57 
 
 Physics, Aristotle's, 72 
 
 Pic us, John, 133 
 
 Pluto, birth and youth, 54; studies 
 
 and travels, 54 ; school in Athena 
 founded, 54 ; dt^ath, 55 
 
 Plato's philosophy : definition of 
 philosophy, 3 ; his doctrines not 
 derived from Sokrates, 21; hia 
 school complemenfcjry, not op- 
 posed, lo that of Aristotle, 51 ; 
 his philosophy combining the 
 essence of all pre-Sokratic philo- 
 sophies with that of Sokrates, 53 ; 
 exegesis, 55; division into dia- 
 lectics, physics, and ethics, 55; 
 * commcm sense ' attacked, 55 ; 
 dialectics the highest stage of 
 philosophy, 56 ; object of the 
 dialectical dialogues of Plato, 
 57; his system of ideas, 58; 
 the • highest idea ' the object of 
 dialectics, 59 ; doctrine of remi- 
 niscence, 59 ; physical specula- 
 tions, 60 : cosmical theory, 61 ; 
 definition of virtue, 62; his 
 ideal commonwealth, 63; Plato 
 the founder of the * theory of 
 knowledge,' 64; nature of hia 
 philosophy, 64 ; bibliography, 
 76; referred to, 25, m. 68, 73, 91, 
 103, 112, 117, 133, 161, 294, 313, 
 346, 396 
 
 Pleroma, the, 101 
 
 Plethon, 133 
 
 Plotinus, 92; his doctrine, 93; the 
 Neo-PIatonic trinity, 94 
 
 Poetics, Aristotle's, 74 
 
 Polemon, 73 
 
 Politics, Aristotle's, 73 
 
 Politique Positive, Comte's, 366 
 
 Polos, 43 
 
 Polystratus, 82 
 
 Porphyry, 94 
 
 Port-Royul Logic, 155 
 
 Posidoniiis, 80 
 
 Positivism, founded by Comte, 
 365 ; its principles, 367 
 
 Pre-Sokrutic sclnx)ls of philosophy, 
 23; Ionian schools, 23; Italian 
 school, 29; Eltatic schfX)l, 33; 
 the metaphysical physicists, 36 ; 
 transition to Sokrates, 42 
 
 Principles of Biology, Spencer's, 388 
 
416 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Prindpieg of Eumnn Knowledge, 
 
 Berkeley's, 189 
 Frofdmm of Life and Mind, Lewea b, 
 
 Prodlkos, 42, 44, 45 
 Pr(»lvi(>8 Hiid his «!cjctrine, 95 
 Frole^iomtua to every fntnTe Metn- 
 physic, Kant's, 22:., 230, 235, 231), 
 246, 218 
 Proslogium, Anaelm's, 114 
 Protagoras, 42 
 
 Paycliology to be conai.lered a 
 department of philosophy, 6; 
 Fichte'i opinion, 258 
 Punishment, purp*>»e of, 113 
 Pyrrho, 77, 83 ; his doctriu6«», 83 
 ryrrh(Mi»tie IJypotypme», tlie, of 
 
 Sextus Em pine us, 8fi 
 Pythagoras: definition of philo- 
 sophy, 3 : life, 29 ; influence, 30 
 Pythagorean system, 30, 08; funda- 
 mental doctriije of iiuuiher, 30; I 
 extension of theory, 31, 52 ; cos- 
 mology, 32; variations in, from 
 being unwritten by its founder. 
 32 
 
 Reason, superiority of the practical 
 over tlu- pure, 2i9 
 
 Berent nnd current philosophy, 
 352; Hartraunii, 352; L Jzr, 
 358 ; Duiiring, 301 ; Lange, 302 ; 
 tendency of German philusophrrs 
 tf>wards historical research, 304 ; 
 Comte, 304; J. S. Blill, 377; 
 liain, 378 ; Lewe^, 379 ; Spencer, 
 380; the Neo-Hegelian school, 
 
 Kefurmation, the Crerman, 134 
 Reid, ThotuHS, 201 ; axioms, 201 ; 
 
 criticiHUi '-n llumo, 2o2 
 Reinhold, Erubt, history of phdo- 
 
 sophy, U .,,-.• 
 
 Kcinhold, K. L., on the Kantian 
 
 philosophy, 253, 258 
 Religion, Hegel's philosophy of, 334 
 Remiuisoeiice, Plato's doctrine ot, 
 
 59 
 R.nRi3sance, philosophy of the, 
 132; Plethon, 133; iicinus. 
 
 133; Pictia, 133; the German 
 Reformaticm, 134; Giordano 
 Bruiio, 134 ; Campanella, 137 
 EepuhUe, Plato's, 50, 02, 03 
 Keucldin, Johannes, 137, 138 
 Kichter, Kant's influence on, 2.53 
 Hitter, history of phdoeophs 11 
 Kixner, histiiry of philosophy, 11 
 ItMuian and Antiquarian iH.riod of 
 philosophy, 85; chameterised by 
 expo.-ition of older doctriues, 85 ; 
 iEu€»idemu8, 80; the later Scej.- 
 tics, 80 ; the Sextians, 87 ; Cicero, 
 87; Neo-Pythagoreans, 88 
 Roscelliims, 115 
 Host^nkranz, 312, 336, 338, 344 
 Rousseau, 200 
 Huge, Arnold, 343 
 
 Sabelll N<, the, 107 
 
 St. AugUbtine of Hippo : see Angus- 
 tine 
 
 Sankbya, the, of Kapila, 18 
 
 Saturnmus, 101 
 
 Scepticism, arguments in favour 
 of, 86 
 
 Sceptics, the, 83; tlieir doctrines, 
 83 ; not original, 84 ; authorities, 
 
 84 
 
 Schelling, Frederick William Jo- 
 seph, 278 
 
 Schelling's philosophy: definition 
 of philosophy, 4; the * system 
 of Mentity,' 278 ; the i>roblem of 
 philosophy, 279; nature-philo- 
 sophy, 279 ; trangcendental 
 philosophy, 280 ; division of the 
 process of the production of the 
 real into three ^Ulge8, 281 ; 
 category of reciprocity, 281 ; 
 Schelling's practical philosophy, 
 282 ; the ruaiu difterence between 
 Schelling and Fichte,283; philo- 
 sophy of art, 283; philosophy of 
 nature, 284; corres{)ondence of 
 Schelling with Fichte and Leil)- 
 nitz, 285; Schellijjg's later ten- 
 dency to mysticism, 280; his 
 t^Tstem no great advance on 
 Ficht€'B, 28G ; his followers, 287 ; 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 417 
 
 retrospect and criticism, 317; 
 referreil to, 288, 300, 334, 347, 
 353 
 
 Schiller, Kant's influence on, 253 
 
 Schlegel, 280 
 
 Schmidt, Dr. : see Stimer, Max 
 
 Schoolmen, the earlier. 111; Eri- 
 gena. 111; Anaelm, 114; Abe- 
 lard, 116 
 
 Schoolmen, the later, 124; Al- 
 bertua Magnus, 124; Tliomas 
 Aquinas, 125 ; Duns Scotus, 127; 
 William of Occam, 128 
 
 Schopenhauer, Arthur: life, 289; 
 works, 289 
 
 Schopenhauer's philosophy: defi- 
 nition of pliilosophy, 4 ; position 
 of Schopenhauer's philosopliy, 
 288 ; the four forms of the prin- 
 ciple of causality, 290; separation 
 of the will from the intellect, 
 291 ; use of the term ' will,' 293 ; 
 tlie body the objectivation of the 
 will, 294 ; on the nature of will, 
 295; pessimism, 290; place of 
 the fine arts in the presentment 
 of the will's objectivation, 296; 
 of art, 297 ; of music, 298 ; art 
 a quietude of the will, 298 ; the 
 will-to-live, 299 ; the merit of 
 Schopenhauer's work, 300; his 
 followers, 301; retrospect and 
 criticism, 348 
 
 Schulze, 254, 258 
 
 Schwegler, Albert, history of philo- 
 sophy, 12, 14 
 
 Science and philosophy, relations 
 between, 381, 397 
 
 Science, special, distinguished from 
 philosophy, 2 
 
 Segregation, principle of, 387 
 
 Senwa, 87 
 
 Scnsationism of Condillac, 204 
 
 Seth, Andrew, 390 
 
 Sextian school, 87 
 
 Sextius, 87 
 
 Sextus Clodius, 88 
 
 Sextus Empiricus, 86 
 
 Shakespeare, Bruno's possible in- 
 fluence on, 135 
 
 Siraonians, the, 100 
 
 Social Contract, Rousseau's, 182, 
 206 
 
 Society, Hobbes' theory of, 182 
 
 Sociology not founded by Comte, 
 373 
 
 Sokrates : birth, 44 ; studies and 
 public life, 44; philosophy, 45; 
 method, 45 ; condemnation au(l 
 death, 40 ; the blame of his ac- 
 cusers exaggerated, 46 ; the revo- 
 lution in thought due to him, 47 ; 
 the apostle of self-knowledge, 52 
 
 Sokratic Schools: philosophy of 
 Sokrates, 45; his philosophy a 
 method rather than a doctrine, 
 47; minor Sokratic schools, 48; 
 the Megaric school, 48 ; the 
 Cyrenaic school, 48 ; the Cynic 
 school, 49 ; referred to, 57, 64, 91 
 
 Sopkistes, Plato's, 57 
 
 Sophists, school of the, 42, 52 ; its 
 teachers, 42 ; its opposition to 
 earlier philosophies, 43 ; decline, 
 43 
 
 Sophroniskos, 44 
 
 Space, according to Aristotle, 71 
 
 Spencer, Herbert; definition of 
 philosophy, 4; his philosophy, 
 380 ; distinction between the 
 absolute and the relative, .380; 
 ultimate scientific ideas, 381 ; 
 relation of philosophy to science, 
 381 ; definition of reality, 382 : 
 his test of truth, 382 ; principle 
 of the persistence uf force and its 
 consequences, 383; definition of 
 evolution, 384; principles of 
 evolution, 384 ; change from 
 homogeneity to heterogeneity, 
 386 ; change from indefiniteness 
 to definitencss, 387 ; tendency of 
 evolution towards equilibration, 
 387 ; tendency after equilibration 
 to dissolution, 388 ; his Principlm 
 of Biology and later works, 388 ; 
 his merits and defects, 389 
 
 Speusippus, 77 
 
 Spinoza, Baruch de, 157 ; his capa- 
 city for scientific exposition, 100; 
 
 2 E 
 
418 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Spinoza's philosopby, 158, 215 ; liia | 
 method, 158 ; errors of abstraction 
 
 and imagination distinguiahcd, 
 158 ; starting-point of his system, 
 159 ; account of Ids system, H>0 ; 
 anthropology, 165; ethics, 16a; 
 success of Spinozism, 167 ; autho- 
 rities, 167 : biH system contrasted 
 with tliat of Leibnitz, 17i ; re- 
 ferred to, 168, 214, 396 
 
 titaniey. Thomas, history of phi- 
 losopJiy, 10 
 
 State, function of the, 63, 200 
 
 Stewart, Dugald, 203 
 
 Stilpo, 78 , ^ , . . , 7 
 
 Stirner, IMax, 340 ; the Individml 
 
 and his Property, 342 
 St(.ics, the, their definition of phi- 
 losophy, 3; their doctrines, /8, 
 80; their logic, 78; physics, 
 79; ethics, 79; Stoicism pri- 
 marily an ethical movement, 
 
 80 
 
 Stiato. 78 
 
 St^au^8, David Friednch, 338, 339, 
 341 ; his Lehen JesUy iJ3J ; 
 Chrutian Dogmatics in thlr 
 Demhjmenty &c., 339 
 
 Stromata, the, of Clement of Alex- 
 andria, 104 , , ^ .,. f 
 
 Sub.^ance, Descartes defmiUon of. 
 
 150 
 Syncretists, work of tlie, 85, 87 
 
 Synechology, 305 
 
 Syrian Gnostics, 100 ; JVleimnder. 
 101; Saturainus, 101; latian, 
 101 ; Bardesanee, 101 ; doctrines, 
 
 101 
 
 Susteme de la Nature, d' Holbach's, 
 
 210,211,213 
 
 Tatian, 101 
 
 Tauler, Johannes, 131 
 
 Teiinemann, history of philosophy, 
 
 11 13 
 
 Thales: life, 23; knowledge, 23; 
 his claim to be the founder ot 
 philos-.phy, 24 ; liis central doc- 
 trine, 24 
 
 neativtm, Plato^s, 55, 57. 62 
 
 Theology distinguished from plii- 
 
 losophy, 2 . . r 
 
 Theologj', Kant's criticism of ra- 
 tional, 247 
 Theophilus, 104 
 Theophrastus, 77 
 Tlieory of Knowledge, fundamental 
 
 axioms of the, 258 
 Therapeuta), the, 90 
 Thomasius, Jacobus, history ot 
 
 philo80[)hy, 10 
 Thrasymachos, 43 
 Tieck,286 
 
 Tiedemann, hlstor>^ of philosophy, 11 
 Timceus, Plato's, 60, 61, 62 
 Time, according to Aristotle, 71 
 Tracy, Testutt de, 213 
 Transcendental, meaning of the 
 
 word, 229 
 Transitional thought, 98 ; the 
 attitude of Christianity, 98 ; the 
 Gnostics, 100; the Christian 
 Fathers, 103 ^, ^ „ , 
 Treatise of Human Nature, Hume s, 
 
 193,196,197,199 . 
 
 Trinity; the Neo-Flatonic, dis- 
 tinguished from the Chribtian, 
 94 ; the doctrine of the, the 
 foundation of dogmatic Christi- 
 anity, 106 
 
 Uebeuweg, history of philosophy, 
 
 12, 14 
 Unknowable, the, 883 
 Upimibchads, the, 17 
 
 Vaisehika, the, of Kanada, 18 
 Valentinus, 100 
 
 Vedanta, the, of Badarayana, 18 
 Virtue, Plato's definition of, 63; 
 
 Ejiicurtan idea of, 81 
 Yisclier, 338 
 
 Vision, Berkeley's theory of, 192 
 Voltaire, 206 
 
 Wacner, J. J., 287 
 Wallace, Edwin, 390 
 Wallace, William, 390 
 Weber, Alfred, history of pliiloBO- 
 phy, 13 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 419 
 
 Weisse, criticism of the Hegelian 
 system, 338 
 
 Will : Schopenhauer's use of the 
 wonl, 293 : nature of the, 295 ; 
 art a quietude of the, 298; 
 Hartmann on the conjunction of 
 will and intelligence, 353 
 
 Will in NaturSy Schopenhauer's, 
 289, 292 
 
 AVill-to-live, the, 299 
 
 Wissenschaftslehre, Fichte's, 257, 
 261, 277 
 
 Wolif, Christian, definition of phi- 
 losophy, 3; life, 175; his doc- 
 trines, 175 
 
 World as Will and Preeentation, 
 
 Schopenhauer's, 289, 293, 296, 
 298, 299, 300 
 
 Xenocrates, 77 
 
 Xenophanes ; life, 33 ; theistic 
 
 tendency of writings, 33 
 Xenophon, 44, 48 
 
 Yoga, the, of Patanjali, 18 
 
 Zeller, definition of philosophy, 4 
 Zeno of Sidon. 82 
 Zeno the Cyprist, 78 
 Zeno the Eleatic, philosophical 
 work, 34 
 
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