Section Two

SECOND PERIOD: DOGMATISM AND SCEPTICISM.

IN this second period, which precedes the Alexandrian philosophy, we have to consider Dogmatism and Scepticism—the Dogmatism which separates itself into the two philosophies, the Stoic and the Epicurean; and the third philosophy, of which both partake and which yet differs from them both, Scepticism. Along with this last we would take the New Academy, which has entirely merged in it—while in the Older Academy, Plato’s philosophy indubitably still maintained its purity. We saw at the close of the previous period the consciousness of the Idea, or of the Universal, which is an end in itself—a principle, universal indeed, but at the same time determined in itself, which is thus capable of subsuming the particular, and of being applied thereto. The application of universal to particular is here the relationship that prevails, for the reflection that from the universal itself the separation of the totality is developed, is not yet present. There always is in such a relationship the necessity of a system and of systematization; that is to say, one determinate principle must consistently be applied to the particular, so that the truth of all that is particular should be determined according to this abstract principle, and be at the same time likewise recognized. Now since this is what we have in so-called Dogmatism, it is a philosophizing of the understanding, in which Plato’s and Aristotle’s speculative greatness is no longer present.

In respect of this relationship, the task of Philosophy now comes to be summed up in the twofold question which we spoke of earlier (Vol. I. pp. 474, 475), and which has regard to a criterion of truth and to the wise man. At this point we may better than before, and also from a different point of view, explain the necessity for this phenomenon. For because truth has now become conceived as the harmony of thought and reality, or rather as the identity of the Notion, as the subjective, with the objective, the first question is what the universal principle for judging and determining this harmony is; but a principle through which the true is judged (κρίνεται) to be true, is simply the criterion. Yet because this question had only been formally and dogmatically answered, the dialectic of Scepticism, or the knowledge of the one-sidedness of this principle as a dogmatic principle, at once appeared. A further result of this mode of philosophizing is that the principle, as formal, is subjective, and consequently it has taken the real significance of the subjectivity of self-consciousness. Because of the external manner in which the manifold is received, the highest point, that in which thought finds itself in its most determinate form, is self-consciousness. The pure relation of self-consciousness to itself is thus the principle in all these philosophies, since in it alone does the Idea find satisfaction, just as the formalism of the understanding of the present so-called philosophizing seeks to find its fulfilment, the concrete which is opposed to this formalism, in the subjective heart, in the inward feelings and beliefs. Nature and the political world are certainly also concrete, but externally concrete; the arbitrary concrete is, on the other hand, not in the determinate universal Idea, but only in self-consciousness and as being personal. The second ruling determination is consequently that of the wise men. Not reason alone, but everything must be something thought, that is, subjectively speaking, my thought; that which is thought, on the contrary, is only implicit, that is to say, it is itself objective in so far as it appears in the form of the formal identity of thought with itself. The thought of the criterion as of the one principle is, in its immediate actuality, the subject itself; thought and the thinker are thus immediately connected. Because the principle of this philosophy is not objective but dogmatic, and rests on the impulse of self-consciousness towards self-satisfaction, it is the subject whose interests are to be considered. The subject seeks on its own account a principle for its freedom, namely, immovability in itself; it must be conformable to the criterion, i.e. to this quite universal principle, in order to be able to raise itself into this abstract independence. Self-consciousness lives in the solitude of its thought, and finds therein its satisfaction. These are the fundamental determinations in the following philosophies: the exposition of their main principles will come next, but to go into details is not advisable.

Although, as no doubt is the case, these philosophies, as regards their origin, pertain to Greece, and their great teachers were always Greeks, they were yet transferred to the Roman world; thus Philosophy passed into the Roman world and these systems in particular constituted under Roman rule the philosophy of the Roman world, in opposition to which world, unsuited as it was to the rational practical self-consciousness, this last, driven back into itself from external actuality, could only seek for reason in itself and could only care for its individuality—just as abstract Christians only care for their own salvation. In the bright Grecian world the individual attached himself more to his state or to his world, and was more at home in it. The concrete morality, the impulse towards the introduction of the principle into the world through the constitution of the state, which we see in Plato, the concrete science that we find in Aristotle, here disappear. In the wave of adversity which came across the Roman world, everything beautiful and noble in spiritual individuality was rudely swept away. In this condition of disunion in the world, when man is driven within his inmost self, he has to seek the unity and satisfaction, no longer to be found in the world, in an abstract way. The Roman world is thus the world of abstraction, where one cold rule was extended over all the civilized world. The living individualities of national spirit in the nations have been stifled and killed; a foreign power, as an abstract universal, has pressed hard upon individuals. In such a condition of dismemberment it was necessary to fly to this abstraction as to the thought of an existent subject, that is, to this inward freedom of the subject as such. As what was held in estimation was the abstract will of the individual ruler of the world, the inward principle of thought also had to be an abstraction which could bring forth a formal, subjective reconciliation only. A dogmatism erected on a principle made effectual through the form of the understanding could alone satisfy the Roman mind. These philosophies are thus conformable to the spirit of the Roman world, as indeed Philosophy in general ever stands in close connection with the world in its ordinary aspect (Vol. I. pp. 53, 54). The Roman world has, indeed, produced a formal patriotism and corresponding virtue, as also a developed system of law; but speculative philosophy could not proceed from such dead material—we could only expect good advocates and the morality of a Tacitus. These philosophies, always excepting Stoicism, also arose amongst the Romans in opposition to their ancient superstitions, just as now Philosophy comes forward in the place of religion.

The three principles of Stoicism, Epicureanism and Scepticism are necessary; in the first there is the principle of thought or of universality itself, but yet determined in itself; the abstract thought is here the determining criterion of the truth. There is opposed to thought, in the second place, the determinate as such, the principle of individuality, feeling generally, sensuous perception and observation. These two form the principles of the Stoic and Epicurean philosophies. Both principles are one-sided and, as positive, become sciences of the understanding; just because this thought is not in itself concrete but abstract, the determinateness falls outside of thought and must be made a principle for itself; for it has an absolute right as against abstract thought. Besides Stoicism and Epicureanism, there is, in the third place, Scepticism, the negation of these two one-sided philosophies which must be recognized as such. The principle of Scepticism is thus the active negation of every criterion, of all determinate principles of whatever kind they be, whether knowledge derived from the senses, or from reflection on ordinary conceptions, or from thought. Thus the next result arrived at is that nothing can be known. Yet the imperturbability and uniformity of mind in itself, which suffers through nothing, and which is affected neither by enjoyment, pain, nor any other bond, is the common standpoint and the common end of all these philosophies. Thus however gloomy men may consider Scepticism, and however low a view they take of Epicureanism, all these have in this way been philosophies.

A. THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE STOICS.

We must, first of all, and in a general way, remark of Stoicism, as also of Epicureanism, that they came in the place of the philosophy of the Cynics and Cyrenaics as their counterpart, just as Scepticism took the place of the Academy. But in adopting the principle of these philosophies, they at the same time perfected it and elevated it more into the form of scientific thought. Yet because in them, just as in the others, the content is a fixed and definite one, since self-consciousness therein sets itself apart, this circumstance really puts an end to speculation, which knows nothing of any such rigidity, which rather abolishes it and treats the object as absolute Notion, as in its difference an unseparated whole. Hence with the Stoics, as also really with the Epicureans, instead of genuine speculation, we only meet with an application of the one-sided, limited principle, and thus we require in both to enter merely upon a general view of their principle. Now if Cynicism made reality for consciousness the fact of being immediately natural (where immediate naturalness was the simplicity of the individual, so that he is independent and, in the manifold movement of desire, of enjoyment, of holding many things to be reality, and of working for the same, really keeps up the external simple life) the Stoic elevation of this simplicity into thought consists in the assertion, not that immediate naturalness and spontaneity is the content and the form of the true Being of consciousness, but that the rationality of nature is grasped through thought, so that everything is true or good in the simplicity of thought. But while with Aristotle what underlies everything is the absolute Idea as unlimited and not set forth in a determinate character and with a difference—and its deficiency is only the deficiency which is present in realization, the not being united into one Notion—here the one Notion is undoubtedly set forth as real existence, and everything is related to it, and hence the requisite relation is undoubtedly present; but that in which everything is one is not the true. With Aristotle each conception is considered absolutely in its determination and as separate from any other; here the conception certainly is in this relation and is not absolute, but at the same time it is not in and for itself. Because thus the individual is not considered absolutely but only relatively, the whole working out is not interesting, for it is only an external relation. Likewise with Aristotle the individual only is taken into consideration, but this consideration is lost sight of by the speculative treatment adopted: here, however, the individual is taken up and the treatment is likewise external. This relation is not even consistent, if, as also happens, something such as nature is considered in itself; for the absolute falls outside of it, since its consideration is only a system of reasoning from indeterminate principles, or from principles which are only the first that come to hand.

As a contribution to the history of the philosophy of the Stoics, we first of all desire to mention the more eminent Stoics. The founder of the Stoic School is Zeno (who must be distinguished from the Eleatic); he belonged to Cittium, a town in Cyprus, and was born about the 109th Olympiad. His father was a merchant who, from his business visits to Athens, then, and for long afterwards, the home of Philosophy and of a large number of philosophers, brought with him books, particularly those of the Socratics, whereby a love and craving for knowledge was awakened in his son. Zeno himself travelled to Athens, and, according to some, he found a further motive to live for Philosophy, in that he lost all his possessions by a shipwreck. What he did not lose was the cultured nobility of his mind and his love of rational understanding. Zeno visited several sections of the Socratics, and particularly Xenocrates, a man belonging to the Platonic School, who, on account of the strictness of his morality and the austerity of his whole demeanour, was very celebrated. Thus he underwent the same ordeals as those to which the holy Francis of Assisi subjected himself, and succumbed to them just as little. This may be seen by the fact that while no testimony was given without oath in Athens, the oath was in his case dispensed with, and his simple word believed—and his teacher Plato is said often to have remarked to him that he might sacrifice to the Graces. Then Zeno also visited Stilpo, a Megaric, whom we already know about (Vol. I. p. 464), and with whom he studied dialectic for ten years. Philosophy was considered as the business of his life, and of his whole life, and not studied as it is by a student who hurries through his lectures on Philosophy in order to hasten on to something else. But although Zeno principally cultivated dialectic and practical philosophy, he did not, like other Socratics, neglect physical philosophy, for he studied very specially Heraclitus’ work on Nature, and finally came forward as an independent teacher in a porch called Poecile (στοὰ ποικίλη), which was decorated with the paintings of Polygnotus. From this his school received the name of Stoic. Like Aristotle his principal endeavour was to unite Philosophy into one whole. As his method was characterized by special dialectic skill and training, and by the acuteness of his argumentation, so he himself was distinguished, in respect of his personality, by stern morality, which resembles somewhat that of the Cynics, though he did not, like the Cynics, try to attract attention. Hence with less vanity his temperance in the satisfaction of his absolute wants was almost as great, for he lived on nothing but water, bread, figs and honey. Thus amongst his contemporaries Zeno was accorded general respect; even King Antigonus of Macedonia often visited him and dined with him, and he invited him to come to him in a letter quoted by Diogenes: this invitation, however, Zeno in his reply refused, because he was now eighty years of age. But the circumstance that the Athenians trusted to him the key of their fortress, speaks for the greatness of their confidence in him; indeed, according to Diogenes, the following resolution was passed at a meeting of the people: “Because Zeno, the son of Mnaseas, has lived for many years in our town as a philosopher, and, for the rest, has proved himself to be a good man, and has kept the youths who followed him in paths of virtue and of temperance, having led the way thereto with his own excellent example, the citizens decide to confer on him a public eulogy, and to present him with a golden crown, on account both of his virtue and his temperance. In addition to this he shall be publicly buried in the Ceramicus. And for the crown and the building of the tomb, a commission of five men shall be appointed.” Zeno flourished about the 120th Olympiad (about 300 B.C.) at the same time as Epicurus, Arcesilaus of the New Academy, and others. He died at a great age, being ninety-eight years of age (though some say he was only seventy-two), in the 129th Olympiad; for being tired of life, he put an end to it himself either by strangulation or by starvation—just because he had broken his toe.

Amongst the succeeding Stoics Cleanthes must be specially singled out; he was a disciple and the successor of Zeno in the Stoa, and author of a celebrated Hymn to God, which Stobæus has preserved. He is well known by an anecdote told respecting him. It is said that he was called in accordance with the law before a court of justice in Athens to give an account of the means by which he maintained himself. He then proved that at night he carried water for a gardener, and by means of this occupation, earned as much as he required in order in the day to be in Zeno’s company—as to which the only point which is not quite comprehensible to us is how, even in such a way, philosophy, of all things, could be studied. And when for this a gratuity was voted to him from the public treasury, he refused it at Zeno’s instigation. Like his teacher, Cleanthes also died voluntarily, in his eighty-first year, by abstaining from food.

Of the later Stoics there were many more who could be named as having been famous. More distinguished in science than Cleanthes was his disciple, Chrysippus of Cilicia, born Ol. 125, 1 (474 A.U.C.; 280 B.C.), who likewise lived in Athens, and who was specially active in promoting the wide cultivation and extension of the philosophy of the Stoics. His logic and dialectic were what contributed most largely to his fame, and hence it was said that if the gods made use of dialectic, they would use none other than that of Chrysippus. His literary activity is likewise admired, for the number of his works, as Diogenes Laërtius tells us, amounted to seven hundred and five. It is said of him in this regard that he wrote five hundred lines every day. But the manner in which his writings were composed detracts very much from our wonder at this facility in writing, and shows that most of his works consisted of compilations and repetitions. He often wrote over again respecting the very same thing; whatever occurred to him he put down on paper, dragging in a great variety of evidence. Thus he quoted almost entire books by other writers; and someone gave expression to the belief that if all that belonged to others were taken away from his books, only white paper would be left. But of course it is not so bad as all this, as we may see by all the quotations from the Stoics, where the name of Chrysippus is placed at the head, as it always is, and his conclusions and explanations are used by preference. His writings, of which Diogenes Laërtius mentions a long list, have, however, all been lost to us; so much is nevertheless correct, that he was the main constructor of the Stoic logic. While it is to be regretted that some of his best works have not come down to us, it is, perhaps, a good thing that all are not preserved; if we had to choose between having all or none, the decision would be a hard one. He died in the 143rd Olympiad (212 B.C.).

In the period immediately following, Diogenes of Seleucia in Babylonia is a distinguished figure; Carneades, the celebrated Academic, is said to have learned dialectic from him, and he is also noteworthy because with this Carneades and Critolaus, a Peripatetic thinker, in Olympiad 156, 2 (598 A.U.C., or 156 B.C.) and in the time of the elder Cato, he was sent as Athenian ambassador to Rome—an embassy which first caused the Romans to make acquaintance with Greek philosophy, dialectic and rhetoric, in Rome itself. For those philosophers there gave lectures and discourses.

Besides these, Panaetius is well known as having been Cicero’s instructor; the latter wrote his treatise, De Officiis, after Panaetius. Finally, we have Posidonius, another equally famous teacher, who lived for long in Rome in the time of Cicero.

Later on we see the philosophy of the Stoics pass over to the Romans, that is to say, it became the philosophy of many Romans, though this philosophy did not gain anything as a science by so doing. On the contrary, as in the case of Seneca and the later Stoics, in Epictetus or Antoninus, all speculative interest was really lost, and a rhetorical and hortatory disposition shown, of which mention cannot be made in a history of Philosophy any more than of our sermons. Epictetus of Hierapolis in Phrygia, born at the end of the first century after Christ, was first of all the slave of Epaphroditus, who, however, freed him, after which he betook himself to Rome. When Domitian banished the philosophers, poisoners and astrologers from Rome (94 A.D.), Epictetus went to Nicopolis, in Epirus, and taught there publicly. From his lectures Arrian compiled the voluminous Dissertationes Epicteteæ, which we still possess, and also the manual ἐγχειρίδιον of Stoicism. We still have the Meditations εἰς ἑαυτόν of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, in twelve books; he first of all ruled along with Lucius Aurelius Verus from 161 to 169 A.D., and then from 169 to 180 alone and he conducted a war with the Marcomanni. In his Meditations he always speaks to himself; these reflections are not, however, speculative in nature, being admonitions, such as that man should exercise himself in every virtue.

We have no other original works by the older Stoics. For the Stoic Philosophy, too, the sources on which we formerly could count are cut off. The sources from which a knowledge of the philosophy of the Stoics is to be derived are, however, well known. There is Cicero, who was himself a Stoic, though in his representation there is great difficulty in discovering how, for instance, the principle of Stoic morality is to be distinguished from that which constitutes the principle of the morality of the Peripatetics. And, more particularly, we have Sextus Empiricus, whose treatment is mainly theoretic, and is thus interesting from a philosophic point of view. For Scepticism has had to do with Stoicism more especially. But also Seneca, Antoninus, Arrian, the manual of Epictetus, and Diogenes Laërtius must really be called into council.

As regards the philosophy of the Stoics themselves, they definitely separated it into those three parts which we have already met with (Vol. I. p. 387, Vol. II. pp. 48, 49), and which will, generally speaking, be always found. There is Logic in the first place; secondly, Physics, or Natural Philosophy; and thirdly, Ethics, or the Philosophy of Mind, on the practical side especially. The content of their philosophy has, however, not much that is original or productive.

1. PHYSICS.

As regards the Physics of the Stoics, we may in the first place say that it does not contain much that is peculiar to itself, since it is rather a compendium of the Physics of older times, and more especially of that of Heraclitus. However, each of the three schools now being dealt with has had a very characteristic and definite terminology, which is more than can be altogether said of the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle. Thus we must now make ourselves familiar with the particular expressions used and with their significance. The following is the essence of the Physics of the Stoics: The determining reason (λόγος) is the ruling, all-productive substance and activity, extended throughout all, and constituting the basis of all natural forms; this preponderating substance, in its rational effectuating activity, they call God. It is a world-soul endowed with intelligence, and, since they called it God, this is really Pantheism. But all Philosophy is pantheistic, for it goes to prove that the rational Notion is in the world. The hymn of Cleanthes is to this effect: “Nothing happens on earth without thee, O Dæmon, neither in the ethereal pole of the heavens, nor in the sea, excepting what the wicked do through their own foolishness. But thou knowest how to make crooked things straight, and thou orderest that which is without order, and the inimical is friendly to thee. For thus hast thou united everything into one, the good to the evil; thus one Notion (λόγος) is in everything that ever was, from which those mortals who are evil flee. How unhappy are they, too, who, ever longing to possess the good, do not perceive God’s universal law, nor listen thereto, the which if they but obeyed with reason, (σὺν νῷ) they would attain a good and happy life!” The Stoics thus believed the study of nature to be essential, in order to know in nature its universal laws, which constitute the universal reason, in order that we might also know therefrom our duties, the law for man, and live conformably to the universal laws of nature. “Zeno,” according to Cicero (De nat. Deor. I. 14), “holds this natural law to be divine, and believes that it has the power to dictate the right and prohibit what is wrong.” Thus the Stoics desired to know this rational Notion which rules in nature not altogether on its own account; and the study of nature was consequently to them rather a mere matter of utility.

If we are now to give some further idea of what these Physics are, we may say that the Stoics distinguish in the corporeal—although nature is only the manifestation of one common law—the moment of activity and that of passivity; the former is, according to Aristotle, active reason, or, according to Spinoza, natura naturans; the latter passive reason, or natura naturata. The latter is matter, substance without quality, for quality is, generally speaking, form, i.e. that which forms universal matter into something particular. This is indeed the reason likewise that with the Greeks quality is called τὸ ποιόν, just as we in German derive Beschaffenheit from Schaffen—that which is posited, the negative moment. But the actuating, as the totality of forms, is, according to the Stoics, the Notion in matter; and this is God. (Diog. Laërt. VII. 134.)

As regards the further nature of these forms, these universal laws of nature, and the formation of the world, the Stoics have in the main adopted the ideas of Heraclitus, for Zeno studied him very particularly (supra, p. 239). They thus make fire the real Notion, the active principle which passes into the other elements as its forms. The world arises by the self-existent gods driving the universal material substance (οὐσίαν) out of the fire, through the air, into the water; and as in all generation the moisture which surrounds a seed comes first as the begetter of all that is particular, so that conception, which in this respect is called seed-containing (σπερματικός), remains in the water and then actuates the indeterminate Being of matter into the origination of the other determinations. The elements, fire, water, air and earth, are consequently primary. Respecting them the Stoics speak in a manner which has no longer any philosophic interest. “The coagulation of the denser parts of the world forms the earth; the thinner portion becomes air, and if this becomes more and more rarefied, it produces fire. From the combination of these elements are produced plants, animals, and other kinds of things.” The thinking soul is, according to them, of a similar fiery nature, and all human souls, the animal principle of life, and also plants, are parts of the universal world-soul, of the universal fire; and this central point is that which rules and impels. Or, as it is put, souls are a fiery breath. Sight, in the same way, is a breath of the ruling body (ἡγεμονικοῦ) transmitted to the eyes; similarly hearing is an extended, penetrating breath, sent from the ruling body to the ears.

Respecting the process of nature we may further say this: Fire, Stobæus tells us (Eclog. phys. I. p. 312), is called by the Stoics an element in a pre-eminent sense, because from it, as the primary element, all else arises through a transformation, and in it, as in an ultimate, everything is fused and becomes dissolved. Thus Heraclitus and Stoicism rightly comprehended this process as a universal and eternal one. This has even been done by Cicero, though in a more superficial way; in this reflection he falsely sees the conflagration of the world in time and the end of the world, which is quite another matter. For in his work De natura Deorum (II. 46) he makes a Stoic speak thus: “In the end (ad extremum) everything will be consumed by fire; for if all moisture becomes exhausted the earth can neither be nourished, nor can air return into existence. Thus nothing but fire remains, through whose reanimation and through God the world will be renewed and the same order will return.” This is spoken after the manner of the ordinary conception. But to the Stoics everything is merely a Becoming. However deficient this may be, God, as the fiery principle, is yet to them the whole activity of nature, and likewise the rational order of the same, and in this lies the perfect pantheism of the Stoic conception of nature. Not only do they call this ordering force God, but also nature, fate or necessity (εἱμαρμένην), likewise Jupiter, the moving force of matter, reason (νοῦν) and foresight (πρόνοιαν); to them all these are synonymous. Because the rational brings forth all, the Stoics compare this impelling activity to a seed, and say: “The seed which sends forth something rational (λογικόν) is itself rational. The world sends forth the seeds of the rational and is thus in itself rational;” that is to say, rational both generally, in the whole, and in each particular existent form. “All beginning of movement in any nature and soul rises from a ruling principle, and all powers which are sent forth upon the individual parts of the whole proceed from the ruling power as from a source; so that each force that is in the part is also in the whole, because the force is distributed by the ruling power in it. The world embraces the seed-containing conceptions of the life which is in conformity with the conception,” i.e. all particular principles. The Physics of the Stoics is thus Heraclitean, though the logical element is entirely at one with Aristotle; and we may regard it as being such. However, speaking generally, only those belonging to earlier times had a physical element in their philosophy: those coming later neglected Physics entirely and kept alone to Logic and to Ethics.

The Stoics again speak of God and the gods according to the popular manner of regarding them. They say that “God is the ungenerated and imperishable maker of all this disposition of things, who after certain periods of time absorbs all substance in Himself, and then reproduces it from Himself.” There no definite perception is reached, and even the above relation of God, as absolute form, to matter has attained no developed clearness. The universe is at one time the unity of form and matter, and God is the soul of the world; at another time, the universe, as nature, is the Being of the constituted matter, and that soul is antagonistic to it, but the activity of God is a disposition of the original forms of matter. This opposition is devoid of the essentials of union and division.

Thus the Stoics remain at the general conception that each individual is comprehended in a Notion, and this again in the universal Notion, which is the world itself. But because the Stoics recognized the rational as the active principle in nature, they took its phenomena in their individuality as manifestations of the divine; and their pantheism has thereby associated itself with the common ideas about the gods as with the superstitions which are connected therewith (p. 235), with belief in all sorts of miracles and with divination—that is to say, they believe that in nature there are intimations given which men must receive through divine rites and worship. Epicureanism, on the contrary, proceeds towards the liberation of men from this superstition to which the Stoics are entirely given over. Thus Cicero, in his work De divinatione, has taken the most part of his material from them, and much is expressly given as being the reasoning of the Stoics. When, for example, he speaks of the premonitory signs given in connection with human events, all this is conformable with the Stoic philosophy. The fact that an eagle flies to the right, the Stoics accepted as a revelation of God, believing that thereby it was intimated to men what it was advisable for them to do in some particular circumstances. Just as we find the Stoics speaking of God as having universal necessity, to them God, as Notion, has hence a relation to men and human ends likewise, and in this respect He is providence; thus they now arrived at the conception of particular gods also. Cicero says in the work quoted above (II. 49): “Chrysippus, Diogenes and Antipater argued thus: If gods exist, and if they do not let men know beforehand what is to happen in the future, they cannot love men, or else they themselves do not know what stands before them in the future, or they are of opinion that it does not signify whether man knows it or not, or they consider such a revelation beneath the dignity of their majesty, or they cannot make it comprehensible to men.” All this they refute, for amongst other things they say that nothing can exceed the beneficence of the gods, &c. Thus they draw the conclusion that “the gods make known to men the future”—a system of reasoning in which the entirely particular ends of individuals also form the interests of the gods. To make men know and comprehend at one time and not at another, is an inconsistency, i.e. an incomprehensibility, but this very incomprehensibility, this obscurity, is the triumph of the common way of regarding religions affairs. Thus in the Stoics all the superstitions of Rome had their strongest supporters; all external, teleological superstition is taken under their protection and justified. Because the Stoics started from the assertion that reason is God (it certainly is divine, but it does not exhaust divinity), they immediately made a bound from this universal to the revelation of that which operates for the sake of individual ends. The truly rational is doubtless revealed to men as the law of God; but the useful, what is in conformity with individual ends, is not revealed in this truly divine revelation.

2. LOGIC.

In the second place, as to the intellectual side of the philosophy, we must first of all. consider the principle of the Stoics in answering the question of what the true and rational is. In regard to the source of our knowledge of truth, or of the criterion, which in those times used to be discussed (Vol. I. p. 474, Vol. II. p. 233), the Stoics decided that the scientific principle is the conception that is laid hold of (φαντασία καταληπτική), for the true as well as for the good; for the true and good are set forth as content or as the existent. Thus a unity of apprehending thought and Being is set forth in which neither can exist without the other; by this is meant not sensuous conception as such, but that which has returned into thought and become proper to consciousness. Some of the older Stoics, amongst whom we certainly find Zeno, called this criterion the very truth of reason (ὀρθὸς λόγος). Ordinary conception on its own account (φαντασία) is an impression (τύπωσις), and for it Chrysippus used the expression alteration (ἐτεροίωσις). But that the conception should be true, it must be comprehended; it begins with feeling, whereby in fact the type of another is brought into us; the second step is that we should transform this into part of ourselves, and this first of all occurs through thought.

According to Cicero’s account (Academ. Quæst. IV. 47), Zeno illustrated the moments of this appropriation by a movement of the hand. When he showed the open palm he said that this was a sensuous perception; when he bent the fingers somewhat, this was a mental assent through which the conception is declared to be mine; when he pressed them quite together and formed a fist, this was comprehension (κατάληψις), just as in German we speak of comprehension [Begreifen] when by means of our senses we lay hold of anything in a similar way; when he then brought the left hand into play and pressed together that fist firmly and forcibly, he said that this was science, in which no one but the wise man participated. This double pressure, my pressing with the other hand that which is grasped, is said to signify conviction, my being conscious of the identity of thought with the content. “But who this wise man is or has been the Stoics never say,” adds Cicero; and of this we shall afterwards have to speak in greater detail. In fact, the matter is not made clear through this gesticulation of Zeno’s. The first action, the open hand, is sensuous apprehension, immediate seeing, hearing, &c.; the first motion of the hand is then, speaking generally, spontaneity in grasping. This first assent is likewise given by fools; it is weak, and may be false. The next moment is the closing of the hand, comprehension, taking something in; this makes the ordinary conception truth, because the ordinary conception becomes identical with thought. By this my identity with this determination is indeed set forth, but this is not yet scientific knowledge, for science is a firm, secure, unchangeable comprehension through reason or thought, which is that which rules or directs the soul. Midway between scientific knowledge and folly is the true Notion as the criterion, although as yet it is not itself science; in it thought gives its approbation to existence and recognizes itself, for approbation is the harmony of a thing with itself. But in scientific knowledge a perception of the first elements and determinate knowledge through thought of the object is contained. Thus the ordinary conception as apprehended is thought; scientific knowledge is the consciousness of thought, the knowledge of that harmony.

We may also give our assent to these conclusions of the Stoics with their various stages, since in them there is a perception which is undoubtedly true. In this we have an expression of the celebrated definition of the truth, by which it is made the harmony of object and consciousness; but at the same time it is well to remark that this is to be understood simply, and not as indicating that consciousness had a conception, and that on the other side stood an object, which two had to harmonize with one another, and hence that a third was necessarily brought into existence which had to compare them. Now this would be consciousness itself, but what this last can compare is nothing more than its conception, and—not the object, but—its conception again. Consciousness thus really accepts the conception of the object; it is by this approbation that the conception actually receives truth—the testimony of mind to the objective rationality of the world. It is not, as is ordinarily represented, that a round object here impresses itself upon wax, that a third compares the form of the round and of the wax and, finding them to be similar, judges that the impress must have been correct, and the conception and the thing have harmonized. For the action of thought consists in this, that thought in and for itself gives its approbation and recognizes the object as being in conformity with itself; this it is in which lies the power of truth—or approbation is the expression of this harmony, or judgment itself. In this, say the Stoics, the truth is contained; it is an object which is likewise thought, so that the thought that gives its assent is the ruling thought which posits the harmony of subject with content. The fact that anything is or has truth is thus not because it is (for this moment of Being is only ordinary conception), but the fact that it is, has its power in the approbation of consciousness. But this thought alone and for itself is not the truth, nor is the truth as such contained in it, for the Notion requires the objective element and is only the rational consciousness respecting the truth. But the truth of the object itself is contained in the fact that this objective corresponds to thought, and not the thought to the objective; for this last may be sensuous, changeable, false, and contingent, and thus it is untrue for mind. This is the main point as far as the Stoics are concerned, and even if we discover the Stoic speculative doctrines from their antagonists better than from their originators and advocates, yet from them, too, this idea of unity proceeds; and while both sides of this unity are opposed, both are necessary, but thought is essential reality. Sextus Empiricus (adv. Math. VIII. 10) understands this thus: “The Stoics say that as regards the perceptible and that which is thought some things alone are true; what is felt, however, is not immediate (έξ εὐθείας), for it becomes true for the first time through its relation to the thought that corresponds to it.” Thus neither is immediate thought the true, excepting in so far us it corresponds to the Notion and is known through the working out of rational thought.

This general idea is the only one which is interesting in the Stoics, but even in this very principle, limitations are found to be present. It merely expresses the truth as subsisting in the object, as thought of, yet for that very reason it is still a very formal determination, or not in itself the real Idea. From this point of view Sextus Empiricus (adv. Math. X. 183) examines the Stoics, and he considers and discusses them in all sorts of ways. The most striking thing that he says is what relates to the following. The fact that anything is, rests in its being thought—the fact that it is thought in something being there; the one is the pre-supposition of the other. That is to say, the Stoics assert that a thing exists, not because it is, but through thought; but consciousness for its existence requires another, for thought is likewise one-sided. In this criticism by Sextus it is indicated that thought requires an object as an external to which it gives its approbation. There can be no talk of its being here indicated that the thinking mind in order to exist as consciousness does not require the object; this is really inherent in its conception. But the “this” of the object as an external is only a moment which is not the only one or the essential. It is the manifestation of mind, and mind exists only in that it appears; this therefore must come to pass in it, that it must have its object as external and give its approbation to it—that is, it must withdraw from this relationship into itself and therein recognize its unity. But likewise, having gone into itself, it has now from itself to beget its object and give itself the content which it sends forth from itself. Stoicism is only this return of mind into itself, positing the unity of itself and the object, and recognizing the harmony; but not the going forth again to the extension of the real knowledge of a content from itself. We do not find Stoicism getting any farther, for it stops short at making the consciousness of this unity its object, without developing it in the slightest; thus reason remains the simple form which does not go on to the distinction of the content itself. Hence the formalism of this celebrated standard, and of the standpoint from which all truth of content is judged, rests farther in the fact that the thought of thought, as what is highest, finds this content indeed conformable to itself and appropriates it, since it transforms it into the universal, but its determinations are given. For if thought predominates, still it is always universal form alone. On account of this universality thought yields nothing but the form of identity with itself; the ultimate criterion is thus only the formal identity of the thought which discovers harmony. But it may be asked, with what? For there no absolute self-determination, no content that proceeds from thought as such is to be found; and hence everything may harmonize with my thought. The criterion of the Stoics is consequently only the principle of contradiction; yet when we remove the contradiction from absolute reality, it is indeed self-identical, but for that very reason empty. The harmony must be a higher one; there must be harmony with self in what is other than self, in content, in determination; and thus it must be harmony with harmony.

In accordance with this recognition of the principle of the Stoics, both their logic and their morality is judged; neither the one nor the other arrives at being immanent free science. We have already remarked (p. 241) that they also occupied themselves with logical definitions, and since they made abstract thought the principle, they have brought formal logic to great perfection. Logic is hence to them logic in the sense that it expresses the activity of the understanding as of conscious understanding; it is no longer as with Aristotle, at least in regard to the categories, undecided as to whether the forms of the understanding are not at the same time the realities of things; for the forms of thought are set forth as such for themselves. Then along with this comes in, for the first time, the question respecting the harmony of thought and object or the demand that an appropriate content of thought be shown. However, since all given content may be taken into thought and posited as something thought without therefore losing its determinate character, and this determinate character contradicts and does not support the simplicity of thought, the taking of it up does not help at all; for its opposite may also be taken up and set forth as something thought. The opposition is thereby, however, only in another form; for instead of the content being in outward sensation as something not pertaining to thought and not true, as it formerly was, it now pertains to thought, but is unlike it in its determinateness, seeing that thought is the simple. Thus what was formerly excluded from the simple Notion, now comes into it again; this separation between activity of the understanding and object must indeed be made, but likewise the unity in the object as such has to be shown, if it is only something thought. Hence Scepticism cast up this opposition more especially to the Stoics, and the Stoics amongst themselves had always to improve on their conceptions. As we have just seen (p. 250) in Sextus Empiricus, they did not quite know whether they should define conception as impression or alteration, or in some other way. Now if this conception is admitted into that which directs the soul, into pure consciousness, Sextus further asks (since thought in abstracto is the simple and self-identical which, as incorporeal, is neither passive nor active), How can an alteration, an impression, be made on this? Then the thought-forms are themselves incorporeal. But, according to the Stoics, only the corporeal can make an impression or bring about an alteration. That is to say, on the one hand, because corporeal and incorporeal are unlike they cannot be one; and, on the other, incorporeal thought-forms, as capable of no alteration, are not the content, for this last is the corporeal only.

If the thought-forms could in fact have attained the form of content, they would have been a content of thought in itself. But as they were they had value as laws of thought (λεκτά) merely. The Stoics indeed had a system of immanent determinations of thought, and actually did a great deal in this direction; for Chrysippus specially developed and worked out this logical aspect of things, and is stated to have been a master in it (supra, pp. 240, 241). But this development took a very formal direction; there are the ordinary well-known forms of inference, five of which are given by Chrysippus, while others give sometimes more and sometimes fewer. One of them is the hypothetical syllogism through remotion, “When it is day it is light, but now it is night and hence it is not light.” These logical forms of thought are by the Stoics held to be the unproved that requires no proof; but they are likewise only formal forms which determine no content as such. The wise man is specially skilful in dialectic, we are told by the Stoics, for all things, both physical and ethical, are perceived through a knowledge of logic. But thus they have ascribed this perception to a subject, without stating who this wise man is (p. 250). Since objective grounds by which to determine the truth are wanting, the ultimate decision is attributed to the will of the subject; and this talk about the wise man consequently has its ground in nothing but the indefiniteness of the criterion, from which we cannot get to the determination of content.

It would be superfluous to speak further of their logic any more than of their theory of judgments, which in part coincides with it, and in part is a grammar and a rhetoric; by it no real scientific content can be reached. For this logic is not, like Plato’s dialectic, the speculative science of the absolute Idea; but, as formal logic, as we saw above (p. 254), it is science as the firm, secure, unalterable comprehension of reasons, and stops short at the perception of the same. This logical element, whose essence consists pre-eminently in escaping to the simplicity of the conception to that which is not in opposition to itself nor falls into contradiction, obtains the upper hand. This simplicity, which has not negativity and content in itself, requires a given content which it may not abrogate—but consequently it cannot thus attain to a genuine “other” through itself. The Stoics have constituted their logic often in the most isolated fashion; the principal point that is established here is that the objective corresponds to thought, and they investigated this thought more closely. If in a manner it is quite correct to say that the universal is the true, and that thought has a definite content that must also be concrete, the main difficulty, which is to deduce the particular determination from the universal, so that in this self-determination it may remain identical with itself, has not been solved by the Stoics: and this the Sceptics brought to consciousness. This is the point of view most important in the philosophy of the Stoics; it thus showed itself in their physics also.

3. ETHICS.

Since the theory of mind, the doctrine of knowledge, came before us in the investigation of the criterion, we have, in the third and last place, to speak of the morality of the Stoics, to which is due their greatest fame, but which does not rise above this formal element any more than what precedes, although it cannot be denied that in presenting it they have taken a course which seems very plausible to the popular conception, but which in fact is to a great extent external and empiric.

a. In order, in the first place, to find the definition of virtue, Chrysippus gives some good expositions of practical ethics which Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 85, 86) quotes at considerable length; they are psychological in character and in them Chrysippus establishes his formal harmony with himself. For according to him the Stoics say: “The first desire (ὁρμή) of the animal is for self-preservation, because nature from the beginning reconciled each existence with itself. This first object innate in every animal” (immanent desire) “is thus the harmony of the animal with itself, and the consciousness of the same,” the self-consciousness through which “the animal is not alienated from itself. Thus it repels what is injurious and accepts what is serviceable to it.” This is Aristotle’s conception of the nature of adaptation to an end, in which, as the principle of activity, both the opposite and its sublation are contained. “Enjoyment is not the first object, for it” (the sense of satisfaction) “is only for the first time added when the nature of an animal that seeks itself through itself, receives into itself that which is in conformity with its harmony with itself.” This is likewise worthy of approbation: self-consciousness, enjoyment, is just this return into self, the consciousness of this unity in which I enjoy something and thereby have my unity as this individual in the objective element. The case is similar in regard to man; his end is self-preservation, but with a conscious end, with consideration, according to reason. “In plants nature operates without voluntary inclination (ὁρμῆς) or sense-perception, but some things in us take place in the same manner as in plants.” For in the plant there also is the seed-containing conception, but it is not in it as end, nor as its object, for it knows nothing about it. “In animals inclination comes in; in them nature makes their impulses conformable to their first principle;” i.e. the end of inclination is simply the first principle of their nature, and that through which they make for their own preservation. “Rational creatures likewise make nature their end, but this is to live according to reason, for reason becomes in them the artist who produces inclination,” i.e. it makes a work of art in man from what in the animal is desire merely. To live in accordance with nature is thus, to the Stoics, to live rationally.

This now appears somewhat like certain receipts given by the Stoics for the purpose of discovering right motive forces in regard to virtue. For their principle put generally is this: “Men must live in conformity with nature, i.e. with virtue; for to it” (rational) “nature leads us.” That is the highest good, the end of everything—a most important form in Stoic morality, which appears in Cicero as finis bonorum or summum bonum. With the Stoics right reason and the securing of it on its own account, is the highest principle. But here, too, we immediately see that we are thereby merely led round in a circle in a manner altogether formal, because virtue, conformity to nature, and reason, are only determined through one another. Virtue consists in living conformably with nature, and what is conformable to nature is virtue. Likewise thought must further determine what is in conformity with nature, but conformity with nature again is that alone which is determined through reason. The Stoics further say, according to Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 87, 88) “To live according to nature is to live according to that which experience teaches us of the laws both of universal nature and of our own nature, by doing nothing which universal law forbids; and that law is the right reason which pervades everything, being the same with Jupiter, the disposer (καθηγεμόνι) of the existing system of things. The virtue of the happy man is when everything occurs according to the harmony of the genius (δαίμονος) of each individual with reference to the will of the disposer of all things.” Thus everything remains as it was in a universal formalism.

We must throughout allow to the Stoics that virtue consists in following thought, i.e. the universal law, right reason; anything is moral and right only in as far as a universal end is in it fulfilled and brought into evidence. This last is the substantial, the essential nature of a relationship, and in it we have that which is really in thought alone. The universal which must be the ultimate determination in action, is, however, not abstract, but the universal in this relationship, just as, for example, in property the particular is placed on one side. Because man, as a man of thought and culture, acts according to his perception, he subordinates his impulses and desires to the universal; for they are individual. There is in each human action an individual and particular element; but there is a distinction as to whether the particular as such is solely insisted upon or whether in this particular the universal is secured. It is to the securing of this universal that the energy of Stoicism is directed. But this universal has still no content and is undetermined, and thereby the Stoic doctrines of virtue are incomplete, empty, meaningless and tedious. Virtue indeed is commended in a forcible, lively and edifying manner, but as to what this universal law of virtue is, we have no indications given us.

b. The other side as regards the good is external existence, and the agreement of circumstances, of external nature, with the end aimed at by man. For although the Stoics have expressed the good as being conformity with law, in relation to the practical will, they yet defined it, according to Diogenes Laërtius (VII. 94, 95), as being at the same time the useful, “either absolutely and immediately useful or not contrary to utility,” so that generally speaking the useful is, as it were, the accident of virtue. “The Stoics likewise distinguished manifold good into good having reference to the soul, and external good; the former indicates virtues and their actions; the latter the fact of pertaining to a noble country, having a virtuous friend, and so on. In the third place it is neither external nor is it a matter of self-consciousness alone, when the self-same man is virtuous and happy.” These conclusions are quite good. Morality does not require to look so coldly on what concerns utility, for every good action is in fact useful, i.e. it has actuality and brings forth something good. An action which is good without being useful is no action and has no actuality. That which in itself is useless in the good is its abstraction as being a non-reality. Men not only may, but must have the consciousness of utility; for it is true that it is useful to know the good. Utility means nothing else but that men have a consciousness respecting their actions. If this consciousness is blameworthy, it is still more so to know much of the good of one’s action and to consider it less in the form of necessity. Thus the question was raised as to how virtue and happiness are related to one another, a theme of which the Epicureans have also treated. Here it was, as in more recent times, regarded as the great problem to discover whether virtue gives happiness, taken altogether by itself, whether the conception of happiness is included in its conception. That union of virtue and happiness, as the mean, is thus rightly represented as being perfect, neither pertaining only to self-consciousness nor to externality.

α. In order to be able to give a general answer to this question, we most recollect what was said above of the principle of self-preservation, according to which virtue has to do with the rational nature. The fulfilment of its end is happiness as finding itself realized, and as the knowledge or intuitive perception of itself as an external—a harmony of its Notion or its genius with its Being or its reality. The harmony of virtue with happiness thus means that the virtuous action realizes itself in and for itself, man becomes in it an immediate object to himself, and he comes to the perception of himself as objective, or of the objective as himself. This rests in the conception of action and particularly of good action. For the bad destroys reality and is opposed to self-preservation; but the good is what makes for its self-preservation and effectuates it—the good end is thus the content that realizes itself in action. But in this general answer to that question, properly speaking, the consciousness of the implicitly existent end has not sufficiently exactly the signification of virtue, nor has action proceeding from the same exactly the signification of virtuous action, neither has the reality which it attains the signification of happiness. The distinction rests in the fact that the Stoics have merely remained at this general conception, and set it forth immediately as actuality; in it however, the conception of virtuous action is merely expressed, and not reality.

β. A further point is that just because the Stoics have remained at this position, the opposition between virtue and happiness immediately enters in, or, in abstract form, that between thought and its determination. These opposites are with Cicero honestum and utile, and their union is the question dealt with. Virtue, which is living in accordance with the universal law of nature, is confronted by the satisfaction of the subject as such in his particularity. The two sides are, in the first place, this particularity of the individual, which, in the most varied aspects has existence in me as the abstract “this,” for example, in the pre-supposition of determinate inclinations; and here we have pleasure and enjoyment in which my existence harmonizes with the demands of my particularity. In the second place, I, as the will that fulfils law, am only the formal character which has to carry out the universal; and thus, as willing the universal, I am in accord with myself as thinking. The two now come into collision, and because I seek the one satisfaction or the other, I am in collision with myself, because I am also individual. As to this we may hear many trivial things said, such as that things often go badly with the virtuous and well with the wicked, and that the latter is happy, &c. By going well all external circumstances are understood, and on the whole the content is quite uninteresting, for it is constituted by the attainment of commonplace ends, points of view and interests. Such at once show themselves, however, to be merely contingent and external; hence we soon get past this standpoint in the problem, and thus external enjoyment, riches, noble birth, &c., do not accord with virtue or happiness. The Stoics indeed said: “The implicitly good is the perfect” (that which fulfils its end) “in accordance with the nature of the rational; now virtue is such, but enjoyment, pleasure and such-like are its accessories”—the end of the satisfaction of the individual on his own account. Thus these may be the concomitants of virtue, although it is a matter of indifference whether they are so or not, for since this satisfaction is not end, it is equally a matter of indifference if pain is the concomitant of virtue. Conduct which is according to reason only, thus further contains man’s abstract concentration within himself, and the fact that the consciousness of the true enters into him, so that he renounces everything that belongs to immediate desires, feelings, &c.

In this quite formal principle of holding oneself in a pure harmony with oneself of a merely thinking nature, there now rests the power of becoming indifferent to every particular enjoyment, desire, passion and interest. Because this following of the determinations of reason is in opposition to enjoyment, man should seek his end or satisfaction in nothing else than in the satisfaction of his reason, in satisfying himself in himself, but not in anything outwardly conditioned. Hence much has been said by the Stoics in respect of that which pertains to the passions being something that is contradictory. The writings of Seneca and Antoninus contain much that is true in this regard, and they may be most helpful to those who have not attained to the higher degree of conviction. Seneca’s talent must be recognized, but we must also be convinced that it does not suffice. Antoninus (VIII. 7) shows psychologically that happiness or pleasure is not a good. “Regret is a certain self-blame, because something useful has failed, the good must be something useful, and the noble and good man must make the same his interest. But no noble and good man will feel regret that he has fallen short in pleasure; pleasure is thus neither useful nor good. The man who has the desire for glory after his death does not recollect that he who holds him in remembrance himself dies also, and again he who follows this one, until all recollection through these admiring ones who have passed away, has been extinguished.” Even if this independence and freedom is merely formal, we must still recognize the greatness of this principle. However, in this determination of the abstract inward independence and freedom of the character in itself lies the power which has made the Stoics famous; this Stoic force of character which says that man has only to seek to remain like himself, thus coincides with the formal element which I have already given (p. 254). For if the consciousness of freedom is my end, in this universal end of the pure consciousness of my independence all particular determinations of freedom which are constituted by duties and laws, have disappeared. The strength of will of Stoicism has therefore decided not to regard the particular as its essence, but to withdraw itself therefrom; we see on the one hand, that this is a true principle, but on the other, it is at the same time abstract still.

Now because the principle of the Stoic morality professes to be the harmony of mind with itself, what should be done is not to let this remain formal, and therefore not to let what is not contained in this self-contained be any longer shut out of it. That freedom which the Stoics ascribe to man is not without relation to what is other than himself; thus he is really dependent, and under this category happiness really falls. My independence is only one side, to which the other side, the particular side of my existence, hence does not yet correspond. The old question, which at this time again came up, thus concerns the harmony between virtue and happiness. We speak of morality rather than virtue, because that according to which I ought to direct my actions is not, as in virtue, my will, as it has become custom. Morality really contains my subjective conviction that that which I do is in conformity with rational determinations of will, with universal duties. That question is a necessary one, a problem which even in Kant’s time occupied men, and in endeavouring to solve it we must begin by considering what is to be understood by happiness. Much more is afterwards said of that in which satisfaction is to be sought. However, from what is external and exposed to chance we must at once break free. Happiness in general means nothing more than the feeling of harmony with self. That which is pleasing to the senses is pleasing because a harmony with ourselves is therein contained. The contrary and unpleasing is, on the other hand, a negation, a lack of correspondence with our desires. The Stoics have posited as the very essence of enjoyment this harmony of our inner nature with itself, but only as inward freedom and the consciousness, or even only the feeling of this harmony, so that enjoyment such as this is contained in virtue itself. Yet this enjoyment ever remains a secondary matter, a consequence, which in so far as it is so cannot be made end, but should only be considered as an accessory. The Stoics said in this regard that virtue is alone to be sought, but with virtue happiness on its own account is found, for it confers blessing explicitly as such. This happiness is true and imperturbable even if man is in misfortune; thus the greatness of the Stoic philosophy consists in the fact that if the will thus holds together within itself, nothing can break into it, that everything else is kept outside of it, for even the removal of pain cannot be an end. The Stoics have been laughed at because they said that pain is no evil. But toothache and the like are not in question as regards this problem. We cannot but know we are subject to such; pain like this, and unhappiness are, however, two different things. Thus the problem throughout is only to be understood as the demand for a harmony of the rational will with external reality. To this reality there also belongs the sphere of particular existence, of subjectivity, of personality, of particular interests. But of these interests the universal alone truly pertains to this reality, for only in so far as it is universal, can it harmonize with the rationality of the will. It is thus quite right to say that suffering, pain, &c., are no evil, whereby the conformity with myself, my freedom, might be destroyed; I am elevated over such in the union which is maintained with myself, and even if I may feel them, they can still not make me at variance with myself. This inward unity with myself as felt, is happiness, and this is not destroyed by outward evil.

γ. Another opposition is that within virtue itself. Because the universal law of right reason is alone to be taken as the standard of action, there is no longer any really absolutely fixed determination, for all duty is always, so to speak, a particular content, which can plainly be grasped in universal form, without this, however, in any way affecting the content. Because virtue is thus that which is conformable to the real essence or law of things, in a general sense the Stoics called virtue everything, in every department, which is in conformity with law in that department. Hence, Diogenes tells us (VII. 92), they also speak of logical and physical virtues, just as their morality represents individual duties (τὰ καθήκοντα) by passing in review the individual natural relationships in which man stands, and showing what in them is rational. But this is only a kind of quibbling such as we have also seen in Cicero’s case. Thus in as far as an ultimate deciding criterion of that which is good cannot be set up, the principle being destitute of determination, the ultimate decision rests with the subject, Just as before this it was the oracle that decided, at the commencement of this profounder inwardness the subject was given the power of deciding as to what is right. For since Socrates’ time the determination of what was right by the standard of customary morality had ceased in Athens to be ultimate; hence with the Stoics all external determination falls away, and the power of decision can only be placed in the subject as such, which in the last instance determines from itself as conscience. Although much that is elevated and edifying may find its support here, an actual determination is still wanting; hence there is according to the Stoics only one virtue, and the wise man is the virtuous.

c. The Stoics have thus in the third place likewise been in the way of representing an ideal of the wise man which, however, is nothing more than the will of the subject which in itself only wills itself, remains at the thought of the good, because it is good, allows itself in its steadfastness to be moved by nothing different from itself, such as desires, pain, &c., desires its freedom alone, and is prepared to give up all else—which thus, if it experiences outward pain and misfortune, yet separates these from the inwardness of its consciousness. The question of why the expression of rel morality has with the Stoics the form of the ideal of the wise man finds its answer, however, in the fact that the mere conception of virtuous consciousness, of action with respect to an implicitly existent end, finds in individual consciousness alone the element of moral reality. For if the Stoics had gone beyond the mere conception of action for the implicitly existent end, and had reached to the knowledge of the content, they would not have required to express this as a subject. To them rational self-preservation is virtue. But if we ask what it is that is evolved by virtue, the answer is to the effect that it is just rational self-preservation; and thus they have not by this expression got beyond that formal circle. Moral reality is not expressed as that which is enduring, which is evolved and ever evolving itself. And moral reality is just this, to exist; for as nature is an enduring and existent system, the spiritual as such must be an objective world. To this reality the Stoics have, however, not reached. Or we may understand this thus. Their moral reality is only the wise man, an ideal and not a reality—in fact the mere conception whose reality is not set forth.

This subjectivity is already contained in the fact that moral reality, expressed as virtue, thereby immediately presents the appearance of being present only as a quality of the individual. This virtue, as such, in as far as only the moral reality of the individual is indicated, cannot attain to happiness in and for itself, even though happiness, regarded in the light of realization, were only the realization of the individual. For this happiness would be just the enjoyment of the individual as the harmony of existence with him as individual; but with him as individual true happiness does not harmonize, but only with him as universal man. Man must likewise not in the least desire that it should harmonize with him as individual man, that is, he must be indifferent to the individuality of his existence, and to the harmony with the individual as much as to the want of harmony; he must be able to dispense with happiness just as, if he possesses it, he must be free from it; or it is only a harmony of him with himself as a universal. If merely the subjective conception of morality is therein contained, its true relationship is yet thereby expressed; for it is this freedom of consciousness which in its enjoyment rests in itself and is independent of objects,—what we expressed above (p. 264) as the special characteristic of the Stoic morality. Stoic self-consciousness has not here to deal with its individuality as such, but solely with the freedom in which it is conscious of itself only as the universal. Now could one call this happiness, in distinction to the other, true happiness, happiness would still, on the whole, remain a wrong expression. The satisfaction of rational consciousness in itself as an immediate universal, is a state of being which is simulated by the determination of happiness; for in happiness we have the moment of self-consciousness as an individuality. But this differentiated consciousness is not present in that self-satisfaction; for in that freedom the individual has rather the sense of his universality only. Striving after happiness, after spiritual enjoyment, and talking of the excellence of the pleasures of science and art, is hence dull and insipid, for the matter with which we are occupied has no longer the form of enjoyment, or it does away with that conception. This sort of talk has indeed passed away and it no longer has any interest. The true point of view is to concern oneself with the matter itself and not with enjoyment, that is, not with the constant reflection on the relation to oneself as individual, but with the matter as a matter, and as implicitly universal. We must take care besides that things are tolerable to us as individuals, and the pleasanter the better. But no further notice or speech about this is requisite, nor are we to imagine that there is much that is rational and important within it. But the Stoic consciousness does not get beyond this individuality to the reality of the universal, and therefore it has only to express the form, the real as an individual, or the wise man.

The highest point reached by Aristotle, the thought of thought, is also present in Stoicism, but in such a way that it does not stand in its individual capacity as it appears to do in Aristotle, having what is different beside it, but as being quite alone. Thus in the Stoic consciousness there is just this freedom, this negative moment of abstraction from existence, an independence which is capable of giving up everything, but not as an empty passivity and self-abnegation, as though everything could be taken from it, but an independence which can resign it voluntarily, without thereby losing its reality; for its reality is really just the simple rationality, the pure thought of itself. Here pure consciousness thus attains to being its own object, and because reality is to it only this simple object, its object annuls in itself all modes of existence, and is nothing in and for itself, being therein only in the form of something abrogated.

All is merged into this: the simplicity of the Notion, or its pure negativity, is posited in relation to everything. But the real filling in, the objective mode, is wanting, and in order to enter into this, Stoicism requires that the content should be given. Hence the Stoics depicted the ideal of the wise man in specially eloquent terms, telling how perfectly sufficient in himself and independent he is, for what the wise man does is right. The description of the ideal formed by the Stoics is hence a common subject of discussion and is even devoid of interest; or at least the negative element in it is alone noteworthy. “The wise man is free and likewise in chains, for he acts from himself, uncorrupted by fear or desire.” Everything which belongs to desire and fear he does not reckon to himself, he gives to such the position of being something foreign to him; for no particular existence is secure to him. “The wise man is alone king, for he alone is not bound to laws, and he is debtor to no one.” Thus we here see the autonomy and autocracy of the wise man, who, merely following reason, is absolved from all established laws which are recognized, and for which no rational ground can be given, or which appear to rest somewhat on a natural aversion or instinct. For even in relation to actual conduct no definite law has properly speaking reality for him, and least of all those which appear to belong to nature as such alone, e.g. the prohibition against entering into marriage relations which are considered incestuous, the prohibition of intercourse between man and man, for in reason the same thing is fitting as regards the one which is so as regards the others. Similarly the wise man may eat human flesh, &c. But a universal reason is something quite indeterminate. Thus the Stoics have not passed beyond their abstract understanding in the transgression of these laws, and therefore they have allowed their king to do much that was immoral; for if incest, pederasty, the eating of human flesh, were at first forbidden as though through a natural instinct only, they likewise can by no means exist before the judgment-seat of reason. The Stoic wise man is thus also ‘enlightened,’ in the sense that where he did not know how to bring the natural instinct into the form of a rational reason, he trampled upon nature. Thus that which is called natural law or natural instinct comes into opposition with what is set forth as immediately and universally rational. For example, those first actions seem to rest on natural feelings, and we must remember that feelings are certainly not the object of thought; as opposed to this, property is something thought, universal in itself, a recognition of my possession from all, and thus it indeed belongs to the region of the understanding. But should the wise man hence not be bound by the former because it is not something immediately thought, this is merely the fault of his want of comprehension. As we have, however, seen that in the sphere of theory the thought-out simplicity of the truth is capable of all content, so we find this also to be the case with the good, that which is practically thought-out, without therefore being any content in itself. To wish to justify such a content through a reason thus indicates a confusion between the perception of the individual and that of all reality, it means a superficiality of perception which does not acknowledge a certain thing because it is not known in this and that regard. But this is so for the reason that it only seeks out and knows the most immediate grounds and cannot know whether there are not other aspects and other grounds. Such grounds as these allow of reasons for and against everything being found—on the one hand a positive relation to something which, though in other cases necessary, as such can also be again sublated; and, on the other hand, a negative relation to something necessary, which can likewise again be held to be valid.

Because the Stoics indeed placed virtue in thought, but found no concrete principle of rational self-determination whereby determinateness and difference developed, they, in the first place, have carried on a reasoning by means of grounds to which they lead back virtue. They draw deductions from facts, connections, consequences, from a contradiction or opposition; and this Antoninus and Seneca do in an edifying way and with great ingenuity. Reasons, however, prove to be a nose of wax; for there are good grounds for everything, such as “These instincts, implanted as they are by nature,” or “Short life,” &c. Which reasons should be esteemed as good thereby depends on the end and interest which form the pre-supposition giving them their power. Hence reasons are as a whole subjective. This method of reflecting on self and on what we should do, leads to the giving to our ends the breadth of reflection due to penetrative insight, the enlargement of the sphere of consciousness. It is thus I who bring forward these wise and good grounds. They do not constitute the thing, the objective itself, but the thing of my own will, of my desire, a bauble through which I set up before me the nobility of my mind; the opposite of this is self-oblivion in the thing. In Seneca himself there is more folly and bombast in the way of moral reflection than genuine truth; and thus there has been brought up against him both his riches, the splendour of his manner of life, his having allowed Nero to give him wealth untold, and also the fact that he had Nero as his pupil; for the latter delivered orations composed by Seneca. This reasoning is often brilliant, as with Seneca: we find much that awakens and strengthens the mind, clever antitheses and rhetoric, but we likewise feel the coldness and tediousness of these moral discourses. We are stimulated but not often satisfied, and this may be deemed the character of sophistry: if acuteness in forming distinctions and sincere opinion must be there recognized, yet final conviction is ever lacking.

In the second place there is in the Stoic standpoint the higher, although negatively formal principle, that what is thought is alone as such the end and the good, and therefore that in this form of abstract thought alone, as in Kant’s principle of duty, there is contained that by which man must establish and secure his self-consciousness, so that he can esteem and follow nothing in himself in as far as it has any other content for itself. “The happy life,” says Seneca (De vita beata, 5), “is unalterably grounded on a right and secure judgment.” The formal security of the mind which abstracts from everything, sets up for us no development of objective principles, but a subject which maintains itself in this constancy, and in an indifference not due to stupidity, but studied; and this is the infinitude of self-consciousness in itself.

Because the moral principle of the Stoics remains at this formalism, all that they treat of is comprised in this. For their thoughts are the constant leading back of consciousness to its unity with itself. The power of despising existence is great, the strength of this negative attitude sublime. The Stoic principle is a necessary moment in the Idea of absolute consciousness; it is also a necessary manifestation in time. For if, as in the Roman world, the life of the real mind is lost in the abstract universal; the consciousness, where real universality is destroyed, must go back into its individuality and maintain itself in its thoughts. Hence, when the political existence and moral actuality of Greece had perished, and when in later times the Roman Empire also became dissatisfied with the present, it withdrew into itself, and there sought the right and moral which had already disappeared from ordinary life. It is thus herein implied, not that the condition of the world is a rational and right one, but only that the subject as such should assert his freedom in himself. Everything that is outward, world, relationships, &c., are so disposed as to be capable of being abrogated; in it there is thus no demand for the real harmony of reason and existence; or that which we might term objective morality and rectitude is not found in it. Plato has set up the ideal of a Republic, i.e. of a rational condition of mankind in the state; for this esteem for right, morality and custom which is to him the principal matter, constitutes the side of reality in that which is rational; and it is only through a rational condition of the world such as this, that the harmony of the external with the internal is in this concrete sense present. In regard to morality and power of willing the good, nothing more excellent can be read than what Marcus Aurelius has written in his Meditations on himself; he was Emperor of the whole of the then known civilized world, and likewise bore himself nobly and justly as a private individual. But the condition of the Roman Empire was not altered by this philosophic emperor, and his successor, who was of a different character, was restrained by nothing from inaugurating a condition of things as bad as his own wicked caprice might direct. It is something much higher when the inward principle of the mind, of the rational will, likewise realizes itself, so that there arises a rational constitution, a condition of things in accordance with culture and law. Through such objectivity of reason, the determinations which come together in the ideal of the wise man are first consolidated. There then is present a system of moral relationships which are duties; each determination is then in its place, the one subordinated to the other, and the higher is predominant. Hence it comes to pass that the conscience becomes bound (which is a higher point than the Stoic freedom), that the objective relationships which we call duties are consolidated after the manner of a just condition of things, as well as being held by mind to be fixed determinations. Because these duties do not merely appear to hold good in a general sense, but are also recognized in my conscience as having the character of the universal, the harmony of the rational will and reality is established. On the one hand, the objective system of freedom as necessity exists, and, on the other, the rational in me is real as conscience. The Stoic principle has not yet reached to this more concrete attitude, as being on the one hand abstract morality, and, on the other, the subject that has a conscience. The freedom of self-consciousness in itself is the principle, but it has not yet attained to its concrete form, and its relation to happiness exists only in its determination as indifferent and contingent, which relation must be given up. In the concrete principle of rationality the condition of the world, as of my conscience, is not, however, indifferent.

This is a general description of Stoic morality; the main point is to recognize its point of view and chief relationships. Because in the Roman world a perfectly consistent position, and one conformable to existing conditions, has attained to the consciousness of itself, the philosophy of the Stoics has more specially found its home in the Roman world. The noble Romans have hence only proved the negative, an indifference to life and to all that is external; they could be great only in a subjective or negative manner—in the manner of a private individual. The Roman jurists are also said to have been likewise Stoic philosophers, but, on the one hand, we find that our teachers of Roman law only speak ill of Philosophy, and, on the other, they are yet sufficiently inconsistent to state it to the credit of the Roman jurists that they were philosophers. So far as I understand law, I can find in it, among the Romans, nothing either of thought, Philosophy or the Notion. If we are to call the reasoning of the understanding logical thought, they may indeed be held to be philosophers, but this is also present in the reasoning of Master Hugo, who certainly does not claim to be a philosopher. The reasoning of the understanding and the philosophic Notion are two different things. We shall now proceed to what is in direct contrast to the Stoic philosophy, Epicureanism.

B. EPICURUS.

The Epicurean philosophy, which forms the counterpart to Stoicism, was just as much elaborated as the Stoic, if, indeed, it were not more so. While the latter posited as truth existence for thought—the universal Notion—and held firmly to this principle, Epicurus, the founder of the other system, held a directly opposite view, regarding as the true essence not Being in general, but Being as sensation, that is, consciousness in the form of immediate particularity. As the Stoics did not seek the principle of the Cynics—that man must confine himself to the simplicity of nature—in man’s requirements, but placed it in universal reason, so Epicurus elevated the principle that happiness should be our chief end into the region of thought, by seeking pleasure in a universal which is determined through thought. And though, in so doing, he may have given a higher scientific form to the doctrines of the Cyrenaics. it is yet self-evident that if existence for sensation is to be regarded as the truth, the necessity for the Notion is altogether abrogated, and in the absence of speculative interest things cease to form a united whole, all things being in point of fact lowered to the point of view of the ordinary human understanding. Notwithstanding this proviso, before we take this philosophy into consideration, we must carefully divest ourselves of all the ideas commonly prevalent regarding Epicureanism.

As regards the life of Epicurus, he was born in the Athenian village of Gargettus in Ol. 109, 3 (B.C. 342), and therefore before the death of Aristotle, which took place in Ol. 114, 3. His opponents, especially the Stoics, have raked up against him more accusations than I can tell of, and have invented the most trivial anecdotes respecting his doings. He had poor parents; his father, Neocles, was village schoolmaster, and Chærestrata, his mother, was a sorceress: that is, she earned money, like the women of Thrace and Thessaly, by furnishing spells and incantations, as was quite common in those days. The father, taking Epicurus with him, migrated with an Athenian colony to Samos, but here also he was obliged to give instruction to children, because his plot of land was not sufficient for the maintenance of his family. At the age of about eighteen years, just about the time when Aristotle was living in Chalcis, Epicurus returned to Athens. He had already, in Samos, made the philosophy of Democritus a special subject of study, and now in Athens he devoted himself to it more than ever; in addition to this, he was on intimate terms with several of the philosophers then flourishing, such as Xenocrates, the Platonist, and Theophrastus, a follower of Aristotle. When Epicurus was twelve years old, he read with his teacher Hesiod’s account of Chaos, the source of all things; and this was perhaps not without influence on his philosophic views. Otherwise he professed to be self-taught, in the sense that he produced his philosophy entirely from himself; but we are not to suppose from this that he did not attend the lectures or study the writings of other philosophers. Neither is it to be understood that he was altogether original in his philosophy as far as content was concerned; for, as will be noted later, his physical philosophy especially is that of Leucippus and Democritus. It was at Mitylene in Lesbos that he first came forward as teacher of an original philosophic system, and then again at Lampsacus in Asia Minor; he did not, however, find very many hearers. After having for some years led an unsettled life, he returned in about the six and thirtieth year of his age to Athens, to the very centre of all Philosophy; and there, some time after, he bought for himself a garden, where he lived and taught in the midst of his friends. Though so frail in body that for many years he was unable to rise from his chair, in his manner of living he was most regular and frugal, and he devoted himself entirely to science, to the exclusion of all other interests. Even Cicero, though in other respects he has little to say in his favour, bears testimony to the warmth of his friendships, and adds that no one can deny he was a good, a humane, and a kindly man. Diogenes Laërtius gives special commendation to his reverence towards his parents, his generosity to his brothers, and his benevolence to all. He died of stone in the seventy-first year of his age. Just before his death he had himself placed in a warm bath, drank a cup of wine, and charged his friends to remember what he had taught them.

No other teacher has ever been loved and reverenced by his scholars as much as Epicurus; they lived on such intimate terms of friendship that they determined to make common stock of their possessions with him, and so continue in a permanent association, like a kind of Pythagorean brotherhood. This they were, however, forbidden to do by Epicurus himself, because it would have betrayed a distrust in their readiness to share what they had with one another; but where distrust is possible, there neither friendship, nor unity, nor constancy of attachment can find a place. After his death he was held in honoured remembrance by his disciples: they carried about with them everywhere his likeness, engraved on rings or drinking-cups, and remained so faithful to his teaching that they considered it almost a crime to make any alteration in it (while in the Stoic philosophy development was continually going on), and his school, in respect of his doctrines, resembled a closely-barricaded state to which all entrance was denied. The reason for this lies, as we shall presently see, in his system itself; and the further result, from a scientific point of view, ensued that we can name no celebrated disciples of his who carried on and completed his teaching on their own account. For his disciples could only have gained distinction for themselves by going further than Epicurus did. But to go further would have been to reach the Notion, which would only have confused the system of Epicurus; for what is devoid of thought is thrown into confusion by the introduction of the Notion, and it is this very lack of thought which has been made a principle. Not that it is in itself without thought, but the use made of thought is to hold back thought, and thought thus takes up a negative position in regard to itself; and the philosophic activity of Epicurus is thus directed towards the restoration and maintaining of what is sensuous through the very Notion which renders it confused. Therefore his philosophy has not advanced nor developed, but it must also be said that it has not retrograded; a certain Metrodorus alone is said to have carried it on further in some directions. It is also told to the credit of the Epicurean philosophy that this Metrodorus was the only disciple of Epicurus who went over to Carneades; for the rest, it surpassed all others in its unbroken continuity of doctrine and its long duration; for all of them became degenerate or suffered interruption. When some one called the attention of Arcesilaus to this attachment to Epicurus, by the remark that while so many had gone over from other philosophers to Epicurus, scarcely a single example was known of any one passing over from the Epicurean system to another, Arcesilaus made the witty rejoinder: “Men may become eunuchs, but eunuchs can never again become men.”

Epicurus himself produced in his lifetime an immense number of works, being a much more prolific author than Chrysippus, who vied with him in the number of his writings, if we deduct from the latter his compilations from the works of others or from his own. The number of his writings is said to have amounted to three hundred; it is scarcely to be regretted that they are lost to us. We may rather thank Heaven that they no longer exist; philologists at any rate would have had great trouble with them. The main source of our knowledge of Epicurus is the whole of the tenth book of Diogenes Laërtius, which after all gives us but scanty information, though it deals with the subject at great length. We should, of course, have been better off had we possessed the philosopher’s own writings, but we know enough of him to make us honour the whole. For, besides this, we know a good deal about the philosophy of Epicurus through Cicero, Sextus Empiricus and Seneca; and so accurate are the accounts they give of him, that the fragment of one of Epicurus’s own writings, found some years ago in Herculaneum, and reprinted by Orelli from the Neapolitan edition (Epicuri Fragmenta libri II. et XI. De natura, illustr. Orellius, Lipsiæ 1818), has neither extended nor enriched our knowledge; so that we must in all earnestness deprecate the finding of the remaining writings.

With regard to the Epicurean philosophy, it is by no means to be looked on as setting forth a system of Notions, but, on the contrary, as a system of ordinary conceptions or even of sensuous existence, which, looked at from the ordinary point of view as perceived by the senses, Epicurus has made the very foundation and standard of truth (p. 277). A detailed explanation of how sensation can be such, he has given in his so-called Canonic. As in the case of the Stoics, we have first to speak of the manner which Epicurus adopted of determining the criterion of truth; secondly, of his philosophy of nature; and thirdly and lastly, of his moral teaching.

1. CANONICAL PHILOSOPHY.

Epicurus gave the name of Canonic to what is really a system of logic, in which he defines the criteria of truth, in regard to the theoretic, as in fact sensuous perceptions, and, further, as conceptions or anticipations (προλήψεις); in regard to the practical, as the passions, impulses, and affections.

a. On the theoretic side the criterion, closely considered, has, according to Epicurus, three moments, which are the three stages of knowledge; first, sensuous perception, as the side of the external; secondly, ordinary conception, as the side of the internal; thirdly, opinion (δόξα), as the union of the two.

α. “Sensuous perception is devoid of reason,” being what is given absolutely. “For it is not moved by itself, nor can it, if if is moved by something else, take away from or add to” that which it is, but it is exactly what it is. “It is beyond criticism or refutation. For neither can one sensation judge another, both being alike, since both have equal authority;”—when the presentations of sight are of the same kind, every one of them must admit the truth of all the rest. “Nor can one of them pass judgment on another when they are unlike, for they each have their value as differing;” red and blue, for example, are each something individual. “Nor can one sensation pass judgment on another when they are heterogeneous; for we give heed to all. Thought, in the same way, cannot criticize the senses; for all thought itself depends on the sensation,” which forms its content. But sensuous perception may go far wrong. “The truth of what our senses perceive is first evinced by this, that the power of perception remains with us; sight and hearing are permanent powers of this kind as much as the capacity of feeling pain. In this way even the unknown” (the unperceived) “may be indicated by means of that which appears” (perception). Of this conception of objects of perception which are not immediate we shall have to speak more particularly hereafter (p. 292) in dealing with physical science. “Thus all” (unknown, imperceptible) “thoughts originated in the senses either directly in respect of their chance origin or in respect of relationship, analogy, and combination; to these operations thought also contributes something,” namely as the formal connection of the sensuous conceptions. “The fancies of the insane or of our dreams are also true; for they act upon us, but that which is not real does not act.” Thus every sensuous perception is explicitly true, in so far as it shows itself to be abiding, and that which is not apparent to our senses must be apprehended after the same manner as the perception known to us. We hear Epicurus say, just as we hear it said in everyday life: What I see and hear, or, speaking generally, what I perceive by my senses, comprises the existent; every such object of sense exists on its own account, one of them does not contradict the other, but all are on the same level of validity, and reciprocally indifferent. These objects of perception are themselves the material and content of thought, inasmuch as thought is continually making use of the images of these things.

β. “Ordinary conception is now a sort of comprehension (κατάληψις), or correct opinion or thought, or the universal indwelling power of thinking; that is to say, it is the recollection of that which has often appeared to us,”—the picture. “For instance, when I say, ‘this is a man,’ I, with the help of previous perceptions, at once by my power of representation recognize his form.” By dint of this repetition the sensuous perception becomes a permanent conception in me, which asserts itself; that is the real foundation of all that we hold true. These representations are universal, but certainly the Epicureans have not placed universality in the form of thinking, but only said it is caused by frequency of appearance. This is further confirmed by the name which is given to the image which has thus arisen within us. “Everything has its evidence (ἐναργές) in the name first conferred on it.” The name is the ratification of the perception. The evidence which Epicurus terms ἐνάργεια is just the recognition of the sensuous through subsumption under the conceptions already possessed, and to which the name gives permanence; the evidence of a conception is therefore this, that we affirm an object perceptible by the senses to correspond with the image. That is the acquiescence which we have found taking place with the Stoics when thought gives its assent to a content; thought, however, which recognizes the thing as its own, and receives it into itself, with the Stoics remained formal only. With Epicurus the unity of the conception of the object with itself exists also as a remembrance in consciousness, which, however, proceeds from the senses; the image, the conception, is what harmonizes with a sense-perception. The recognition of the object is here an apprehension, not as an object of thought, but as an object of imagination; for apprehension belongs to recollection, to memory. The name, it is true, is something universal, belongs to thinking, makes the manifold simple, yea, is in a high degree ideal; but in such a way that its meaning and its content are the sensuous, and are not thus to be counted as simple, but as sensuous. In this way opinion is established instead of knowledge.

γ. In the last place, opinion is nothing but the reference of that general conception, which we have within us, to an object, a perception, or to the testimony of the senses; and that is the passing of a judgment. For in a conception we have anticipated that which comes directly before our eyes; and by this standard we pronounce whether something is a man, a tree, or not. “Opinion depends on something already evident to us, to which we refer when we ask how we know that this is a man or not. This opinion is also itself termed conception, and it may be either true or false:—true, when what we see before our eyes is corroborated or not contradicted by the testimony of the conception; false in the opposite case.” That is to say, in opinion we apply a conception which we already possess, or the type, to an object which is before us, and which we then examine to see if it corresponds with our mental representation of it. Opinion is true if it corresponds with the type; and it has its criterion in perceiving whether it repeats itself as it was before or not. This is the whole of the ordinary process in consciousness, when it begins to reflect. When we have the conception, it requires the testimony that we have seen or still see the object in question. From the sensuous perceptions blue, sour, sweet, and so on, the general conceptions which we possess are formed; and when an object again comes before us, we recognize that this image corresponds with this object. This is the whole criterion, and a very trivial process it is; for it goes no further than the first beginnings of the sensuous consciousness, the immediate perception of an object. The next stage is without doubt this, that the first perception forms itself into a general image, and then the object which is present is subsumed under the general image. That kind of truth which anything has of which it can only be said that the evidence of the senses does not contradict it, is possessed by the conceptions of the unseen, for instance, the apprehension of heavenly phenomena: here we cannot approach nearer, we can see something indeed, but we cannot have the sensuous perception of it in its completeness; we therefore apply to it what we already know by other perceptions, if there is but some circumstance therein which is also present in that other perception or conception (supra, p. 282).

b. From these external perceptions of objects presently existing, with which we here began, the affections, the internal perceptions, which give the criteria for practical life are however distinguished; they are of two kinds, either pleasant or unpleasant. That is to say, they have as their content pleasure or satisfaction, and pain: the first, as that which peculiarly belongs to the perceiver, is the positive; but pain, as something alien to him, is the negative. It is these sensuous perceptions which determine action; they are the material from which general conceptions regarding what causes me pain or pleasure are formed; as being permanent they are therefore again conceptions, and opinion is again this reference of conception to perception, according to which I pass judgment on objects—affections, desires, and so on. It is by this opinion, therefore, that the decision to do or to avoid anything is arrived at.

This constitutes the whole Canon of Epicurus, the universal standard of truth; it is so simple that nothing can well be simpler, and yet it is very abstract. It consists of ordinary psychological conceptions which are correct on the whole, but quite superficial; it is the mechanical view of conception having respect to the first beginnings of observation. But beyond this there lies another and quite different sphere, a field that contains determinations in themselves; and these are the criteria by which the statements of Epicurus must be judged. Nowadays even Sceptics are fond of speaking of facts of consciousness; this sort of talk goes no further than the Epicurean Canon.

2. METAPHYSICS.

In the second place, Epicurus enters on a metaphysical explanation of how we are related to the object; for sensuous perception and outside impressions he unhesitatingly regards as our relation to external things, so that he places the conceptions in me, the objects outside of me. In raising the question of how we come by our conceptions, there lies a double question: on the one hand, since sense-perceptions are not like conceptions, but require an external object, what is the objective manner in which the images of external things enter into us? On the other hand, it may be asked how conceptions of such things as are not matter of perception arise in us; this seems to be an activity of thought, which derives conceptions such as these from other conceptions; we shall, however, see presently (pp. 287, 288) and more in detail, how the soul, which is here related to the object in independent activity, arrives at such a point.

“From the surfaces of things,” says Epicurus in the first place, “there passes off a constant stream, which cannot be detected by our senses” (for things would in any other case decrease in size) and which is very fine; “and this because, by reason of the counteracting replenishment, the thing itself in its solidity long preserves the same arrangement and disposition of the atoms; and the motion through the air of these surfaces which detach themselves is of the utmost rapidity, because it is not necessary that what is detached should have any thickness;” it is only a surface. Epicurus says, “Such a conception does not contradict our senses, when we take into consideration how pictures produce their effects in a very similar way, I mean by bringing us into sympathy with external things. Therefore emanations, like pictures, pass out from them into us, so that we see and know the forms and colours of things.” This is a very trivial way of representing sense-perception. Epicurus took for himself the easiest criterion of the truth that is not seen, a criterion still in use, namely that it is not contradicted by what we see or hear. For in truth such matters of thought as atoms, the detachment of surfaces, and so forth, are beyond our powers of sight. Certainly we manage to see and to hear something different; but there is abundance of room for what is seen and what is conceived or imagined to exist alongside of one another. If the two are allowed to fall apart, they do not contradict each other; for it is not until we relate them that the contradiction becomes apparent.

“Error,” as Epicurus goes on to say on the second point “comes to pass when, through the movement that takes place within us on the conception therein wrought, such a change is effected that the conception can no longer obtain for itself the testimony of perception. There would be no truth, no likeness of our perceptions, which we receive as in pictures or in dreams or in any other way, if there were nothing on which we, as it were, put out our faculty of observation. There would be no untruth if we did not receive into ourselves another movement, which, to be sure, is conformable to the entering in of the conception, but which has at the same time an interruption.” Error is therefore, according to Epicurus, only a displacement of the pictures in us, which does not proceed from the movement of perception, but rather from this, that we check their influence by a movement originating in ourselves; how this interruption is brought about will be shown more fully later on (pp. 290, 300).

The Epicurean theory of knowledge reduces itself to these few passages, some of which are also obscurely expressed, or else not very happily selected or quoted by Diogenes Laërtius; it is impossible to have a theory less explicitly stated. Knowledge, on the side of thought, is determined merely as a particular movement which makes an interruption; and as Epicurus, as we have already seen, looks on things as made up of a multitude of atoms, thought is the moment which is different from the atoms, the vacuum, the pores, whereby resistance to this stream of atoms is rendered possible. If this negative is also again, as soul, affirmative, Epicurus in the notional determination of thinking has only reached this negativity, that we look away from something, i.e. we interrupt that inflowing stream. The answer to the question of what this interrupting movement exactly is, when taken for itself, is connected with the more advanced conceptions of Epicurus; and in order to discuss them more in detail, we must go back to the implicit basis of his system.

This constitutes on the whole the metaphysic of Epicurus; in it he has expounded his doctrine of the atom, but not with greater definiteness than did Leucippus and Democritus. The essence and the truth of things were to him, as they were to them, atoms and vacuum: “Atoms have no properties except figure, weight and magnitude.” Atoms, as atoms, must remain undetermined; but the Atomists have been forced to take the inconsistent course of ascribing properties to them: the quantitative properties of magnitude and figure, the qualitative property of weight. But that which is in itself altogether indivisible can have neither figure nor magnitude; and even weight, direction upon something else, is opposed to the abstract repulsion of the atom. Epicurus even says: “Every property is liable to change, but the atoms change not. In all dissolutions of the composite, something must remain a constant and indissoluble, which no change can transform into that which is not, or bring from non-being into Being. This unchangeable element, therefore, is constituted by some bodies and figures. The properties are a certain relation of atoms to each other.” In like manner we have already seen with Aristotle (p. 178) that the tangible is the foundation of properties: a distinction which under various forms is still always made and is in common use. We mean by this that an opposition is established between fundamental properties, such as we here have in weight, figure and magnitude, and sensuous properties, which are only in relation to us, and are derived from the former original differences. This has frequently been understood as if weight were in things, while the other properties were only in our senses: but, in general, the former is the moment of the implicit, or the abstract essence of the thing, while the latter is its concrete existence, which expresses its relation to other things.

The important matter now would be to indicate the relation of atoms to sensuous appearance, to allow essence to pass over into the negative: but here Epicurus rambles amidst the indeterminate which expresses nothing; for we perceive in him, as in the other physicists, nothing but an unconscious medley of abstract ideas and realities. All particular forms, all objects, light, colour, &c., the soul itself even, are nothing but a certain arrangement of these atoms. This is what Locke also said, and even now Physical Science declares that the basis of things is found in molecules, which are arranged in a certain manner in space. But these are empty words, and a crystal, for instance, is not a certain arrangement of parts, which gives this figure. It is thus not worth while to deal with this relation of atoms; for it is an altogether formal way of speaking, as when Epicurus again concedes that figure and magnitude, in so far as pertaining to atoms, are something different from what they are as they appear in things. The two are not altogether unlike; the one, implicit magnitude, has something in common with apparent magnitude. The latter is transitory, variable; the former has no interrupted parts, that is, nothing negative. But the determination of the atoms, as originally formed in this or that fashion, and having original magnitude of such and such a kind, is a purely arbitrary invention. That interruption, which we regarded above (p. 288) as the other side to atoms, or as vacuum, is the principle of movement: for the movement of thought is also like this and has interruptions. Thought in man is the very same as atoms and vacuum are in things, namely their inward essence; that is to say, atoms and vacuum belong to the movement of thought, or exist for this in the same way as things are in their essential nature. The movement of thinking is thus the province of the atoms of the soul; so that there takes place simultaneously therein an interruption of the inward flow of atoms from without. There is therefore nothing further to be seen in this than the general principle of the positive and negative, so that even thought is affected by a negative principle, the moment of interruption. This principle of the Epicurean system, further applied to the difference in things, is the most arbitrary and therefore the most wearisome that can be imagined.

Besides their different figures, atoms have also, as the fundamental mode in which they are affected, a difference of movement, caused by their weight; but this movement to some extent deviates from the straight line in its direction. That is to say, Epicurus ascribes to atoms a curvilinear movement, in order that they may impinge on one another and so on. In this way there arise particular accumulations and configurations; and these are things.

Other physical properties, such as taste and smell, have their basis again in another arrangement of the molecules. But there is no bridge from this to that, or what results is simply empty tautology, according to which the parts are arranged and combined as is requisite in order that their appearance may be what it is. The transition to bodies of concrete appearance Epicurus has either not made at all, or what has been cited from him as far as this matter is concerned, taken by itself, is extremely meagre.

The opinion that one hears expressed respecting the Epicurean philosophy is in other respects not unfavourable; and for this reason some further details must be given regarding it. For since absolute Being is constituted by atoms scattered and disintegrated, and by vacuum, it directly follows that Epicurus denies to these atoms any relationship to one another which implies purpose. All that we call forms and organisms, or generally speaking, the unity of Nature’s end, in his way of thinking, belongs to qualities, to an external connection of the configurations of the atoms, which in this way is merely an accident, brought about by their chance-directed motion; the atoms accordingly form a merely superficial unity, and one which is not essential to them. Or else Epicurus altogether denies that Notion and the Universal are the essential, and because all originations are to him chance combinations, for him their resolution is just as much a matter of chance. The divided is the first and the truly existent, but at the same time chance or external necessity is the law which dominates all cohesion. That Epicurus should in this fashion declare himself against a universal end in the world, against every relation of purpose—as, for instance, the inherent conformity to purpose of the organism—and, further, against the teleological representations of the wisdom of a Creator in the world, his government, &c., is a matter of course; for he abrogates unity, whatever be the manner in which we represent it, whether as Nature’s end in itself, or as end which is in another, but is carried out in Nature. In contrast to this, the teleological view enters largely into the philosophy of the Stoics, and is there very fully developed. To show that conformity to an end is lacking, Epicurus brings forward the most trivial examples; for instance, that worms and so on are produced by chance from mud through the warmth of the sun. Taken in their entirety, they may very well be the work of chance in relation to others; but what is implicit in them, their Notion and essence is something organic: and the comprehension of this is what we have now to consider. But Epicurus banishes thought as implicit, without its occurring to him that his atoms themselves have this very nature of thought; that is, their existence in time is not immediate but essentially mediate, and thus negative or universal;—the first and only inconsistency that we find in Epicurus, and one which all empiricists are guilty of. The Stoics take the opposite course of finding essential Being in the object of thought or the universal; and they fail equally in reaching the content, temporal existence, which, however, they most inconsistently assume. We have here the metaphysics of Epicurus; nothing that he says farther on this head is of interest.

3. PHYSICS.

The natural philosophy of Epicurus is based on the above foundation; but an aspect of interest is given it by the fact that it is still peculiarly the method of our times; his thoughts on particular aspects of Nature are, however, in themselves feeble and of little weight, containing nothing but an ill-considered medley of all manner of loose conceptions. Going further, the principle of the manner in which Epicurus looks on nature, lies in the conceptions he forms, which we have already had before us (pp. 282, 285). That is to say, the general representations which we receive through the repetition of several perceptions, and to which we relate such perceptions in forming an opinion, must be then applied to that which is not exactly matter of perception, but yet has something in common with what we can perceive. In this way it comes about that by such images we can apprehend the unknown which does not lend itself immediately to perception; for from what is known we must argue to what is unknown. This is nothing else but saying that Epicurus judged by analogy, or that he makes so-called evidence the principle of his view of Nature; and this is the principle which to this day has authority in ordinary physical science. We go through experiences and make observations, these arising from the sensuous perceptions which are apt to be overlooked. Thus we reach general concepts, laws, forces, and so on, electricity and magnetism, for instance, and these are then applied by us to such objects and activities as we cannot ourselves directly perceive. As an example, we know about the nerves and their connection with the brain; in order that there may be feeling and so on, it is said that a transmission from the finger-tips to the brain takes place. But how can we represent this to ourselves? We cannot make it a matter of observation. By anatomy we can lay bare the nerves, it is true, but not the manner of their working. We represent these to ourselves on the analogy of other phenomena of transmission, for instance as the vibration of a tense string that passes through the nerves to the brain. As in the well-known phenomenon of a number of billiard balls set close together in a row, the last of which rolls away when the first is struck, while those in the middle, through each of which the effect of the stroke has been communicated to the next, scarcely seem to move, so we represent to ourselves the nerves as consisting of tiny balls which are invisible even through the strongest magnifying glass, and fancy that at every touch, &c., the last springs off and strikes the soul. In the same way light is represented as filaments, rays, or as vibrations of the ether, or as globules of ether, each of which strikes on the other. This is an analogy quite in the manner of Epicurus.

In giving such explanations as those above, Epicurus professed to be most liberal, fair and tolerant, saying that all the different conceptions which occur to us in relation to sensuous objects—at our pleasure, we may say,—can be referred to that which we cannot ourselves directly observe; we should not assert any one way to be the right one, for many ways may be so. In so saying, Epicurus is talking idly; his words fall on the ear and the fancy, but looked on more narrowly they disappear. So, for instance, we see the moon shine, without being able to have any nearer experience of it. On this subject Epicurus says: “The moon may have its own light, or a light borrowed from the sun; for even on earth we see things which shine of themselves, and many which are illuminated by others. Nothing hinders us from observing heavenly things in the light of various previous experiences, and from adopting hypotheses and explanations in accordance with these. The waxing and waning of the moon may also be caused by the revolution of this body, or through changes in the air” (according as vapour is modified in one way or another), “or also by means of adding and taking away somewhat: in short, in all the ways whereby that which has a certain appearance to us is caused to show such appearance.” Thus there are to be found in Epicurus all these trivialities of friction, concussion, &c., as when he gives his opinion of lightning on the analogy of how we see fire of other kinds kindled: “Lightning is explained by quite a large number of possible conceptions; for instance, that through the friction and collision of clouds the figuration of fire is emitted, and lightning is produced.” In precisely the same way modern physicists transfer the production of an electric spark, when glass and silk are rubbed against each other, to the clouds. For, as we see a spark both in lightning and electricity, we conclude from this circumstance common to both that the two are analogical; therefore, we come to the conclusion that lightning also is an electric phenomenon. But clouds are not hard bodies, and by moisture electricity is more likely to be dispersed; therefore, such talk has just as little truth in it as the fancy of Epicurus. He goes on to say: “Or lightning may also be produced by being expelled from the clouds by means of the airy bodies which form lightning—by being struck out when the clouds are pressed together either by each other or by the wind,” &c. With the Stoics things are not much better. Application of sensuous conceptions according to analogy is often termed comprehension or explanation, but in reality there is in such a process not the faintest approach to thought or comprehension. “One man,” adds Epicurus, “may select; one of these modes, and reject the others, not considering what is possible for man to know, and what is impossible, and therefore striving to attain to a knowledge of the unknowable.”

This application of sensuous images to what has a certain similarity to them, is pronounced to be the basis and the knowledge of the cause, because, in his opinion, a transference such as this cannot be corroborated by the testimony of mere immediate sensation; thus the Stoic method of seeking a basis in thought is excluded, and in this respect the mode of explanation adopted by Epicurus is directly opposed to that of the Stoics. One circumstance which strikes us at once in Epicurus is the lack of observation and experience with regard to the mutual relations of bodies: but the kernel of the matter, the principle, is nothing else than the principle of modern physics. This method of Epicurus has been attacked and derided, but on this score no one need be ashamed of or fight shy of it, if he is a physicist; for what Epicurus says is not a whit worse than what the moderns assert. Indeed, in the case of Epicurus the satisfactory assurance is likewise always present of his emphasizing the fact most strongly that just because the evidence of the senses is found to be lacking, we must not take our stand on any one analogy. Elsewhere he in the same way makes light of analogy, and when one person accepts this possibility and another that other possibility, he admires the cleverness of the second and troubles himself little about the explanation given by the first; it may be so, or it may not be so. This is a method devoid of reason, which reaches no further than to general conceptions. Nevertheless, if Physical Science is considered to relate to immediate experience on the one hand, and, on the other hand—in respect of that which cannot be immediately experienced—to relate to the application of the above according to a resemblance existing between it and that which is not matter of experience, in that case Epicurus may well be looked on as the chief promoter, if not the originator of this method, and also as having asserted that it is identical with knowledge. Of the Epicurean method in philosophy we may say this, that it likewise has a side on which it possesses value, and we may in some measure assent when we hear, as we frequently do, the Epicurean physics favourably spoken of. Aristotle and the earlier philosophers took their start in natural philosophy from universal thought a priori, and from this developed the Notion; this is the one side. The other side, which is just as necessary, demands that experience should be worked up into universality, that laws should be found out; that is to say, that the result which follows from the abstract Idea should coincide with the general conception to which experience and observation have led up. The a priori is with Aristotle, for instance, most excellent but not sufficient, because to it there is lacking connection with and relation to experience and observation. This leading up of the particular to the universal is the finding out of laws, natural forces, and so on. It may thus be said that Epicurus is the inventor of empiric Natural Science, of empiric Psychology. In contrast to the Stoic ends, conceptions of the understanding, experience is the present as it appears to the senses: there we have abstract limited understanding, without truth in itself, and therefore without the present in time and the reality of Nature; here we have this sense of Nature, which is more true than these other hypotheses.

The same effect which followed the rise of a knowledge of natural laws, &c., in the modern world was produced by the Epicurean philosophy in its own sphere, that is to say, in so far as it is directed against the arbitrary invention of causes. The more, in later times, men made acquaintance with the laws of Nature, the more superstition, miracles, astrology, &c. disappeared; all this fades away owing to the contradiction offered to it by the knowledge of natural laws. The method of Epicurus was directed more especially against the senseless superstition of astrology, &c., in whose methods there is neither reason nor thought, for it is quite a thing of the imagination, downright fabrication being resorted to, or what we may even term lying. In contrast with this, the way in which Epicurus works, when the conceptions and not thought are concerned, accords with truth. For it does not go beyond what is perceived by the sight, and hearing, and the other senses, but keeps to what is present and not alien to the mind, not speaking of certain things as if they could be seen and heard, when that is quite impossible, seeing that the things are pure inventions. The effect of the Epicurean philosophy in its own time was therefore this, that it set itself against the superstition of the Greeks and Romans, and elevated men above it. All the nonsense about birds flying to right or to left, or a hare running across the path, or men deciding how they are to act according to the entrails of animals, or according as chickens are lively or dull—all that kind of superstition the Epicurean philosophy made short work of, by permitting that only to be accepted as truth which is counted as true by sense perception through the instrumentality of anticipations; and from it more than anything those conceptions which have altogether denied the supersensuous have proceeded. The physics of Epicurus were therefore famous for the reason that they introduced more enlightened views in regard to what is physical, and banished the fear of the gods. Superstition passes straightway from immediate appearances to God, angels, demons; or it expects from finite things other effects than the conditions admit of, phenomena of a higher kind. To this the Epicurean natural philosophy is utterly opposed, because in the sphere of the finite it refuses to go beyond the finite, and admits finite causes alone; for the so-called enlightenment is the fact of remaining in the sphere of the finite. There connection is sought for in other finite things, in conditions which are themselves conditioned; superstition, on the contrary, rightly or wrongly, passes at once to what is above us. However correct the Epicurean method may be in the sphere of the conditioned, it is not so in other spheres. Thus if I say that electricity comes from God, I am right and yet wrong. For if I ask for a cause in this same sphere of the conditioned, and give God as answer, I say too much; though this answer fits all questions, since God is the cause of everything, what I would know here is the particular connection of the phenomenon. On the other hand, in this sphere even the Notion is already something higher; but this loftier way of looking at things which we met with in the earlier philosophers, was quite put an end to by Epicurus, since with superstition there also passed away self-dependent connection and the world of the Ideal.

To the natural philosophy of Epicurus there also belongs his conception of the soul, which he looks on as having the nature of a thing, just as the theories of our own day regard it as nerve-filaments, cords in tension, or rows of minute balls (p. 294). His description of the soul has therefore but little meaning, since here also he draws his conclusion by analogy, and connects therewith the metaphysical theory of atoms: “The soul consists of the finest and roundest atoms, which are something quite different from fire, being a fine spirit which is distributed through the whole aggregate of the body, and partakes of its warmth.” Epicurus has consequently established a quantitative difference only, since these finest atoms are surrounded by a mass of coarser atoms and dispersed through this larger aggregate. “The part which is devoid of reason is dispersed in the body” as the principle of life, “but the self-conscious part (τὸ λογικόν) is in the breast, as may be perceived from joy and sadness. The soul is capable of much change in itself, owing to the fineness of its parts, which can move very rapidly: it sympathizes with the rest of the aggregate, as we see by the thoughts, emotions and so on; but when it is taken away from us we die. But the soul, on its part, has also the greatest sympathy with sensuous perception; yet it would have nothing in common with it, were it not in a certain measure covered by the rest of the aggregate” (the body)—an utterly illogical conception. “The rest of this aggregate, which this principle provides for the soul, is thereby also partaker, on its part, of a like condition” (sensuous perception), “yet not of all that the former possesses; therefore, when the soul escapes, sensuous perception exists no more for it. The aggregate spoken of above has not this power in itself, but derives it from the other which is brought into union with it, and the sentient movement comes to pass through the flow of sympathy which they have in common.” Of such conceptions it is impossible to make anything. The above-mentioned (p. 287) interruption of the streaming together of images of external things with our organs, as the ground of error, is now explained by the theory that the soul consists of peculiar atoms, and the atoms are separated from one another by vacuum. With such empty words and meaningless conceptions we shall no longer detain ourselves; we can have no respect for the philosophic thoughts of Epicurus, or rather he has no thoughts for us to respect.

4. ETHICS.

Besides this description of the soul the philosophy of mind contains the ethics of Epicurus, which of all his doctrines are the most decried, and therefore the most interesting; they may, however, also be said to constitute the best part of that philosophy. The practical philosophy of Epicurus depends on the individuality of self-consciousness, just as much as does that of the Stoics; and the end of his ethics is in a measure the same, the unshaken tranquillity of the soul, and more particularly an undisturbed pure enjoyment of itself. Of course, if we regard the abstract principle involved in the ethics of Epicurus, our verdict cannot be other than exceedingly unfavourable. For if sensation, the feeling of pain and pleasure, is the criterion for the right, good, true, for that which man should make his aim in life, morality is really abrogated, or the moral principle is in fact not moral; at least we hold that the way is thereby opened up to all manner of arbitrariness in action. If it is now alleged that feeling is the ground of action, and that because I find a certain impulse in myself it is for that reason right—this is Epicurean reasoning. Everyone may have different feelings, and the same person, may feel differently at different times; in the same way with Epicurus it may be left to the subjectivity of the individual to determine the course of action. But it is of importance to notice this, that when Epicurus sets tip pleasure as the end, he concedes this only so far as its enjoyment is the result of philosophy. We have before now remarked (vol. i., p. 470) that even with the Cyrenaics, while on the one hand sensation was certainly made the principle, on the other hand it was essential that thought should be in intimate connection with it. Similarly it is the case with Epicurus that while he designated pleasure as the criterion of the good, he demanded a highly cultured consciousness, a power of reflection, which weighs pleasure to see if it is not combined with a greater degree of pain, and in this way forms a correct estimate of what it is. Diogenes Laërtius (X. 144) quotes from him with regard to this point of view: “The wise man owes but little to chance; Reason attains what is of the greatest consequence, and both directs it and will direct it his whole life long.” The particular pleasure is therefore regarded only with reference to the whole, and sensuous perception is not the one and only principle of the Epicureans; but while they made pleasure the principle, they made a principle at the same time of that happiness which is attained, and only attainable by reason; so that this happiness is to be sought in such a way that it may be free and independent of external contingencies, the contingencies of sensation. The true Epicureans were therefore, just as much as the Stoics, raised above all particular ties, for Epicurus, too, made his aim the undisturbed tranquillity of the wise man. In order to be free from superstition Epicurus specially requires physical science, as it sets men free from all the opinions which most disturb their rest—opinions regarding the gods, and their punishments, and more particularly from the thought of death. Freed from all this fear, and from the imaginings of the men who make any particular object their end and aim, the wise man seeks pleasure only as something universal, and holds this alone to be positive. Here the universal and the particular meet; or the particular, regarded only in its bearings to the whole, is raised into the form of universality. Thus it happens that, while materially, or as to content, Epicurus makes individuality a principle, on the other hand he requires the universality of thinking, and his philosophy is thus in accordance with that of the Stoics.

Seneca, who is known as a thorough-going and uncompromising Stoic, when in his treatise De Vita Beata (c. 12, 13) he happens to speak of the Epicureans, gives testimony which is above suspicion to the ethical system of Epicurus: “My verdict is, however—and in thus speaking I go, to some extent, against many of my own countrymen—that the moral precepts of Epicurus prescribe a way of life that is holy and just, and, when closely considered, even sorrowful. For every pleasure of Epicurus turns on something very paltry and poor, and we scarcely know how restricted it is, and how insipid. The self-same law which we lay down for virtue he prescribes for pleasure; he requires that Nature be obeyed; but very little in the way of luxury is required to satisfy Nature. What have we then here? He who calls a lazy, self-indulgent, and dissolute life happiness merely seeks a good authority for a thing that is evil, and while, drawn on by a dazzling name, he turns in the direction where he hears the praise of pleasure sounding, he does not follow the pleasures to which he is invited by Epicurus, but those which he himself brings with him. Men who thus abandon themselves to crime seek only to hide their wickedness under the mantle of philosophy, and to furnish for their excesses a pretext and an excuse. Thus it is by no means permitted that youth should hold up its head again for the reason that to the laxity of its morality an honourable title has been affixed.” By the employment of our reflective powers, which keep guard over pleasure and consider whether there can be any enjoyment in that which is fraught with dangers, fear, anxiety and other troubles, the possibility of our obtaining pleasure pure and unalloyed is reduced to a minimum. The principle of Epicurus is to live in freedom and ease, and with the mind at rest, and to this end it is needful to renounce much of that which men allow to sway them, and in which they find their pleasure. The life of a Stoic is therefore but little different from that of an Epicurean who keeps well before his eyes what Epicurus enjoins.

It might perhaps occur to us that the Cyrenaics had the same moral principle as the Epicureans, but Diogenes Laërtius (X. 139, 136, 137) shows us the difference that there was between them. The Cyrenaics rather made pleasure as a particular thing their end, while Epicurus, on the contrary, regarded it as a means, since he asserted painlessness to be pleasure, and allowed of no intermediate state. “Neither do the Cyrenaics recognize pleasure in rest (καταστηματικήν), but only in the determination of motion,” or as something affirmative, that consists in the enjoyment of the pleasant; “Epicurus, on the contrary, admits both—the pleasure of the body as well as that of the soul.” He meant by this that pleasure in rest is negative, as the absence of the unpleasant, and also an inward contentment, whereby rest is maintained within the mind. Epicurus explained these two kinds of pleasure more clearly as follows: “Freedom from fear and desire (ἀταραξία) and from pain and trouble (ἀπονία) are the passive pleasures (καταστηματικὶα ἡδοναί),”—the setting of our affections on nothing which we may run the risk of losing; pleasures of the senses, on the other hand, like “joy and mirth (χαρὰ δὲ καὶ εὐφροσύνη), are pleasures involving movement (κατὰ κίνησιν ἐνεργείᾳ βλέπονται.9)” The former pleasures Epicurus held to be the truest and highest. “Besides this, pain of the body was held by the Cyrenaics to be worse than sorrow of the soul, while with the Epicureans this is reversed.”

The main teaching of Epicurus in respect of morals is contained in a letter to Men\nceus, which Diogenes Laërtius has preserved, and in which Epicurus expresses himself as follows: “The youth must neither be slow to study philosophy, nor must the old man feel it a burden, for no one is either too young or too old to study the health of his soul. We must therefore endeavour to find out wherein the happy life consists; the following are its elements: First, we must hold that God is a living Being, incorruptible and happy, as the general belief supposes Him to be; and that nothing is lacking to His incorruptibility nor to His happiness. But though the existence of the gods is known to be a fact, yet they are not such as the multitude suppose them to be. He is therefore not impious who discards his faith in the gods of the multitude, but he who applies to them the opinions entertained of them by the mass.” By these gods of Epicurus we can understand nothing else than the Holy, the Universal, in concrete form. The Stoics held more to the ordinary conception, without indeed giving much thought to the Being of God; with the Epicureans, on the other hand, the gods express an immediate Idea of the system. Epicurus says: “That which is holy and incorruptible has itself no trouble nor causes it to others; therefore it is unstirred by either anger or show of favour, for it is in weakness only that such find a place. The gods may be known by means of Reason; they consist partly in Number; others are the perfected type of man, which, owing to the similarity of the images, arises from the continuous confluence of like images on one and the same subject.” The gods are thus the altogether general images which we receive into ourselves; and Cicero says (De Natura Deorum, 18, 38) that they come singly upon us in sleep. This general image, which is at the same time an anthropomorphic conception, is the same to which we give the name of Ideal, only that here the source assigned to it is the reiterated occurrence of images. The gods thus seem to Epicurus to be Ideals of the holy life; they are also existent things, consisting of the finest atoms; they are, however, pure souls, unmixed with any grosser element, and therefore exempt from toil and trouble and pain. Their self-enjoyment is wholly passive, as it must be if consistent, for action has always in it something alien, the opposition of itself and reality, and the toil and trouble which are involved in it really represent the aspect of consciousness of opposition rather than that of realization. The gods lead an existence of pure and passive self enjoyment, and trouble themselves not with the affairs of the world and of men. Epicurus goes on to say: “Men must pay reverence to the gods on account of the perfection of their nature and their surpassing holiness, not in order to gain from them some special good, or for the sake of this or that advantage,” The manner in which Epicurus represents the gods as corporeal Beings in human likeness has been much derided; thus Cicero, for instance, in the passage quoted (c. 18) laughs at Epicurus for alleging that the gods have only quasi bodies, flesh and blood. But from this there follows only that they are, as it were, the implicit, as we see it stated of the soul and things palpable to the senses, that they have behind them what is implicit. Our talk of qualities is no better; for if justice, goodness, and so on, are to be taken in sensu eminentiori, and not as they are with men, we have in God a Being in the same way possessed of only something resembling justice and the other qualities. With this there is closely connected the theory of Epicurus that the gods dwell in vacant space, in the intermediate spaces of the world, where they are exposed neither to rain or wind or snow or the like. For the intermediate spaces are the vacuum, wherein, as the principle of movement, are the atoms in themselves. Worlds, as phenomena, are complete continuous concretions of such atoms, but concretions which are only external relations. Between them, as in vacuum, there are thus these Beings also, which themselves are certainly concretions of atoms, but concretions which remain implicit. Yet this leads only to confusion, if a closer definition is given, for concretion constitutes what is for the senses, but the gods, even if they were concretions, would not be realities exactly such as these. In illogical fashion the general, the implicit, is taken out of reality and set above it, not as atoms, but just as before, as a combination of these atoms; in this way this combination is not itself the sensuous. This seems ridiculous, but it is connected with the interruptions spoken of, and with the relation of the vacuum to the plenum, the atom. So far, therefore, the gods belong to the category of negativity as against sensuality, and as this negative is thought, in that sense what Epicurus said of the gods may still to some extent be said. To this determination of God a larger measure of objectivity of course belongs, but it is a perfectly correct assertion that God, as Thought, is a holy Being, to whom reverence is due for His own sake alone. The first element in a happy life is therefore reverence for the gods, uninfluenced by fear or hope.

Further, a second point with Epicurus is the contemplation of death, the negative of existence, of self-consciousness in man; he requires us to have a true conception of death, because otherwise it disturbs our tranquillity. He accordingly says: “Accustom thyself then to the thought that death concerns us not; for all good and evil is a matter of sensation, but death is a deprivation (στέρησις) of sensation. Therefore the true reflection that death is no concern of ours, makes our mortal life one of enjoyment, since this thought does not add an endless length of days, but does away with the longing after immortality. For nothing in life has terrors for him who has once truly recognized the fact that not to live is not a matter of dread. Thus it is a vain thing to fear death, not because its presence but because the anticipation of it brings us pain. For how can the anticipation of a thing pain us when its reality does not? There is therefore in death nothing to trouble us. For when we are in life, death is not there, and when death is there, we are not. Therefore death does not concern either the living or the dead.” This is quite correct, if we look at the immediate; it is a thought full of meaning, and drives away fear. Mere privation, which death is, is not to be confounded with the feeling of being alive, which is positive; and there is no reason for worrying oneself about it. “But the future in general is neither ours, nor is it not ours; hence we must not count upon it as something that will come to pass, nor yet despair of it, as if it would not come to pass.” It is no concern of ours either that it is or that it is not; and it need not therefore cause us uneasiness. This the right way in which to regard the future also.

Epicurus passes on to speak of impulses, saying: “This moreover is to be kept in mind, that amongst impulses some are natural, but others are vain; and of those that are natural some are necessary while others are natural only. Those that are necessary are either necessary to happiness, or tend to save the body from pain, or to self-preservation in general. The perfect theory teaches how to choose that which promotes health of body and steadfastness of soul, and how to reject what impairs them, this being the aim of the holy life. This is the end of all our actions, to have neither pain of body nor uneasiness of mind. If we but attain to this, all turmoil of the soul is stilled, since the life no longer has to strive after something which it needs, and no longer has to seek anything outside of itself by which the welfare of soul and body is arrived at. But even on the supposition that pleasure is the first and the inborn good, we do not for that reason choose all pleasures, but many we renounce, when they are more than counterbalanced by their painful results; and many pains we prefer to pleasures, if there follows from them a pleasure that is greater. Contentment we hold to be a good, not that we may aim at merely reducing our requirements to a minimum, as the Cynics did, but that we may seek not to be discontented even when we have not very much, knowing that they most enjoy abundance who can do without it, and that what is naturally desired is easy to procure, while what is a mere idle fancy can be procured only with difficulty. Simple dishes afford just as much enjoyment as costly banquets, if they appease hunger. Therefore when we make pleasure our aim, it is not the enjoyments of the gourmand, as is often falsely thought, but freedom from both pain of body and uneasiness of mind. We attain to this life of happiness by sober reason alone, which examines the grounds of all choice and all rejection, and expels the thoughts by which the soul’s rest is most disturbed. It is surely better to be unhappy and reasonable than to be happy and unreasonable; for it is better that in our actions we should judge correctly than that we should be favoured by luck. Meditate on this day and night, and let thyself be shaken by nought from thy peace of soul, that thou mayest live as a god amongst men; for the man who lives amongst such imperishable treasures has nothing in common with mortal men. Of all those the first and foremost is reasonableness (φρόνησις), which on this account is still more excellent than philosophy; from it spring all the other virtues. For they show that one cannot live happily, unless he lives wisely and honourably and justly: nor can he live wisely and honourably and justly without living happily.”

Therefore, although at first sight there seems not much to be said for the principle of Epicurus, nevertheless by means of the inversion of making the guiding principle to be found in thought proceeding from Reason, it passes into Stoicism, as even Seneca himself has admitted (v. supra, pp. 302, 303); and actually the same result is reached as with the Stoics. Hence the Epicureans describe their wise man in at least as glowing terms as the Stoics do theirs; and in both these systems the wise man is depicted with the same qualities, these being negative. With the Stoics the Universal is the essential principle,—not pleasure, the self-consciousness of the particular as particular; but the reality of this self-consciousness is equally something pleasant. With the Epicureans pleasure is the essential principle, but pleasure sought and enjoyed in such a way that it is pure and unalloyed, that is to say, in accordance with sound judgment, and with no greater evil following to destroy it: therefore pleasure is regarded in its whole extent, that is, as being itself a universal. In Diogenes Laërtius, however (X. 117-121), the Epicurean delineation of the wise man has a character of greater mildness; he shapes his conduct more according to laws already in operation, while the Stoic wise man, on the other hand, does not take these into account at all. The Epicurean wise man is less combative than the Stoic, because the latter makes his starting-point the thought of self-dependence, which, while denying self, exercises activity: the Epicureans, on the other hand, proceed from the thought of existence, which is not so exacting, and seeks not so much this activity directed outwards, as rest; this, however, is not won by lethargy, but by the highest mental culture. Yet although the content of the Epicurean philosophy, its aim and result, stands thus on as high a level as the Stoic philosophy, and is its exact parallel, the two are nevertheless in other respects directly opposed to one another; but each of these systems is one-sided, and therefore both of them are dogmatisms inconsistent with themselves by the necessity of the Notion, that is, they contain the contrary principle within them. The Stoics take the content of their thought from Being, from the sensuous, demanding that thought should be the thought of something existent: the Epicureans, on the contrary, extend their particularity of existence to the atoms which are only things of thought, and to pleasure as a universal; but in accordance with their respective principles, both schools know themselves to be definitely opposed to each other.

The negative mean to these one-sided principles is the Notion, which, abrogating fixed extremes of determination such as these, moves them and sets them free from a mere state of opposition. This movement of the Notion, the revival of dialectic—directed as it is against these one-sided principles of abstract thinking and sensation—we now see in its negative aspect, both in the New Academy and in the Sceptics. Even the Stoics, as having their principle in thought, cultivated dialectic, though theirs was (pp. 254, 255) a common logic, in which the form of simplicity passes for the Notion, while the Notion, as such, represents the negative element in it, and dissolves the determinations, which are taken up into that simplicity. There is a higher form of the Notion of dialectic reality, which not only applies itself to sensuous existence, but also to determinate Notions, and which brings to consciousness the opposition between thought and existence; not expressing the Universal as simple Idea, but as a universality in which all comes back into consciousness as an essential moment of existence. In Scepticism we now really have an abrogation of the two one-sided systems that we have hitherto dealt with; but this negative remains negative only, and is incapable of passing into an affirmative.

C. THE NEW ACADEMY.

As opposed to the Stoic and Epicurean Dogmatism, we first of all have the New Academy, which is a continuation of Plato’s Academy in as far as the followers of Plato are divided into the Old, Middle, and New Academies; some indeed allow of a fourth Academy and even a fifth. The most noteworthy figures here are those of Arcesilaus and Carneades. The establishment of the Middle Academy is ascribed to Arcesilaus, and the New Academy is said to contain the philosophy of Carneades; but this distinction has no signification. Both of these are closely connected with Scepticism, and the Sceptics themselves have often trouble in distinguishing their standpoint from the Academic principle. Both have been claimed by Scepticism as Sceptics, but between the Academics and pure Scepticism a distinction has been drawn, which is certainly very formal, and has but little signification, but to which the Sceptics in their subtlety undoubtedly attached some meaning. The distinction often consists in the meanings of words only, and in quite external differences.

The standpoint of the Academics is that they express the truth as a subjective conviction of self-consciousness; and this tallies with the subjective idealism of modern times. The truth, in so far as it is only a subjective conviction, has hence been called, by the New Academy, the probable. Although followers of Plato, and hence, Platonists, the Academicians did not remain at the standpoint of Plato, nor could they have done so. But we easily see the connection of this principle with the Platonic doctrines, if we recollect that with Plato the Idea has been the principle, and that, indeed, on the whole, in the form of universality. Plato remained, as we saw above (pp. 139, 140), in the abstract Idea; to him the one great matter in Philosophy is to combine the infinite and finite. Plato’s Ideas are derived from the necessities of reason, from enthusiasm for the truth, but they are in themselves devoid of movement, and only universal, while Aristotle demands actuality, self-determining activity. Plato’s dialectic has only attempted to assert the universal as such, and to demonstrate the determinate and particular to be null, thus leaving nothing at all but abstract universality. His dialectic has hence very often a negative result, in which determinations are merely done away with and annulled. With Plato the working out of the concrete has thus not gone far, and where he, as in the Timæus, proceeds into the determinate, e.g. of organic life, he becomes infinitely trivial and quite unspeculative, while with Aristotle matters are very different. The necessity for a scientific ground has necessarily caused us to be carried on beyond this Platonic point of view. The Stoics and Epicureans were imbued with the scientific necessity, not yet recognized by Plato, of giving a content to the universal of the Idea, i.e. of grasping particular determinateness, but the succeeding Academicians stand in a negative attitude to them in this regard. To the end they made a point of holding to the Platonic universality, uniting to this the Platonic dialectic also. The principle of the New Academy could thus, like the Platonic dialectic, possess a dialectic attitude and bearing which proceeded to nothing affirmative; as, indeed, in many of Plato’s dialogues, mere confusion is what is arrived at. But while with Plato the affirmative result is essentially the result of dialectic, so that with him we have really found the universal Idea as species, during all this time, on the other hand, the tendency to abstract apprehension is predominant; and as this showed itself in the Stoic and Epicurean philosophy, it has also extended to the Platonic Idea and degraded it into being a form of the understanding. Plato’s Ideas were thus torn from their rest through thought, because in such universality thought has not yet recognized itself as self-consciousness. Self-consciousness confronted them with great pretensions, actuality in general asserted itself against universality; and the rest of the Idea necessarily passed into the movement of thought. This movement now, however, in the New Academy turned dialectically against the determination of the Stoics and Epicureans, which rested on the fact that the criterion of the truth ought to be a concrete. For example, in the conception as comprehended by the Stoics, there is a thought which likewise has a content, although, again, this union still remains very formal. But the two forms in which the dialectic of the New Academy turns against this concrete, are represented by Arcesilaus and Carneades.

1. ARCESILAUS.

Arcesilaus kept to the abstraction of the Idea as against the criterion; for though in the Idea of Plato, i.e. in the Timæus and in his dialectic, the concrete was derived from quite another source, this was only admitted for the first time later on by the Neo-platonists, who really recognized the unity of the Platonic and the Aristotelian principles. The opposition to the Dogmatists thus does not in the case of Arcesilaus proceed from the dialectic of the Sceptics, but from keeping to abstraction; and here we perceive the gulf marking out this epoch from any other.

Arcesilaus was born at Pitane in Æolia in the 116th Olympiad (318 B.C.), and was a contemporary of Epicurus and Zeno. Though he originally belonged to the Old Academy, yet the spirit of the time and the progressive development of Philosophy did not now admit of the simplicity of the Platonic manner. He possessed considerable means, and devoted himself entirely to the studies requisite for the education of a noble Greek, viz. to rhetoric, poetry, music, mathematics, &c. Mainly for the purpose of exercising himself in rhetoric, he came to Athens, here was introduced to Philosophy, and lived henceforth for its sake alone; he held intercourse with Theophrastus, Zeno, &c., and it is a subject of dispute whether he did not hear Pyrrho also. Arcesilaus, familiar with all the Philosophy of those days, was by his contemporaries held to be as noble a man as he was a subtle and acute philosopher; being without pride in himself, he recognized the merits of others. He lived in Athens, occupied the post of scholarch in the Academy, and was thus a successor of Plato. After the death of Crates, the successor of Speusippus, the place of honour in the Academy devolved on Sosicrates, but he willingly gave it up in favour of Arcesilaus on account of the superiority of the latter in talent and philosophy. What really happened as regards the transference of the chair to others, is, for the rest, unknown to us. He filled this office, in which he made use of the method of disputation, with approbation and applause, until his death, which took place in Olympiad 134, 4 (244 B.C.), in the seventy-fourth year of his age.

The principal points in the philosophy of Arcesilaus are preserved by Cicero in his Academics Quæstiones, but Sextus Empiricus is more valuable as an authority, for he is more thorough, definite, philosophic and systematic.

a. This philosophy is specially known to us as being a dialectic directed against Stoicism, with which Arcesilaus had much to do, and its result, as far as its main principles are concerned, is expressed thus: “The wise man must restrain his approbation and assent.” This principle was called ἐποχή, and it is the same as that of the Sceptics; on the other hand this expression is connected with the principle of the Stoics as follows. Because to Stoic philosophy truth consists in the fact that thought declares some content of existence to be its own, and the conception as comprehended gives its approbation to this content, the content of our conceptions, principles and thoughts undoubtedly appears to be different from thought, and the union of the two, which is the concrete, only arises by means of some determinate content being taken up into the form of thought and thus being expressed as the truth. But Arcesilaus saw this consequence, and his saying that approbation most be withheld is thus as much as saying that by thus taking up the content no truth comes to pass, but only phenomenon; and this is true, because, as Arcesilaus puts it, conception and thought likewise remain apart. Arcesilaus has certainly unthinkingly allowed that this content united to consciousness is a concrete such as was indicated, only he has asserted that this connection merely gives a perception with a good ground, and not what he calls truth. This is called probability, but not quite appropriately; it is a universal set forth through the form of thought, and is only formal, having no absolute truth. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, § 233) puts this plainly in saying that “Arcesilaus has declared the withholding of approbation in relation to parts, to be a good, but the assenting to parts to be an evil,” because the assent only concerns parts. That is, if thought is to be retained as a universal, it cannot come to be a criterion; and that is the meaning of Arcesilaus when he asks that the wise man should remain at the universal, and not go on to the determinate as if this determinate were the truth.

Sextus Empiricus gives us (adv. Math. VII. 155, 151-153) a more particular explanation of this philosophy, which is preserved to us only as being in opposition to the Stoics. Arcesilaus asserted as against the Stoics, that everything is incomprehensible (ἀκατάληπτα). He thus combated the conception of thought (καταληπτικὴν φαντασίαν), which to the Stoics is the point of most importance and the concrete truth. Arcesilaus further attacked the Stoics thus: “They themselves say that the conception of thought is the mean between scientific knowledge and opinion, the one of which pertains alone to fools and the other alone to wise men; the conception of thought is common to both, and the criterion of the truth. Arcesilaus here argued in such a way as to show that between scientific knowledge and opinion the conception of thought is no criterion, for it is either in the wise man or the fool, and in the former it is knowledge, and in the latter, opinion. If it is nothing excepting these, there remains to it nothing but an empty name.” For knowledge must be a developed consciousness derived from reasons, but these reasons, as conceptions of thought, Arcesilaus states to be just such thoughts as those of the fool. They are thus, no doubt, the concrete directing power which constitutes the principal content of our consciousness; but it is not proved that they are the truth. Thus this mean, as judging between reason and opinion, pertains equally to the wise man and the fool, and may be error or truth equally; and thus the wise man and the fool have the same criterion, and yet they must, in relation to the truth, be distinguished from one another.

Arcesilaus further gives effect to the distinctions which are more particularly brought up in modern times, and relied upon. “If comprehension is the assent given to a conception of thought, it does not exist. For, in the first place, the assent is not on account of a conception, but of a reason; that is to say, it is only as regards axioms that this assent holds good.” That is good; more fully the purport would be something like this: Thought, as subjective, is made to assent to an existence which is a determinate content of the conception. A sensuous image such as this, however, is foreign to thought, and with it thought cannot accord, because it is something different from it, something from which thought, on the contrary, holds itself aloof. It is, in general, only to a thought that thought finds itself conformable, and only in a thought that it finds itself; thus only a universal axiom is capable of such accord, for only such abstract principles are immediately pure thoughts. Arcesilaus thus holds it up against the Stoics that their principle contains a contradiction within itself, because the conception of thought is made to be the thought of another, but thought can only think itself. This is a thought which concerns the inmost essence of the thing. Arcesilaus thus here makes the same celebrated distinction as in recent times has again been brought forward with so much force as the opposition between thought and Being, ideality and reality, subjective and objective. Things are something different from me. How can I attain to things? Thought is the independent determination of a content as universal; but a given content is individual and hence we cannot assent to such. The one is here, the other there; subjective and objective cannot pass to one another—this is a form of thought upon which for long the whole culture of modern philosophy has turned, and which we still find to-day. It is important to have a consciousness of this difference, and to assert this consciousness against the principle of the Stoics. It was of this unity of thought and reality that the Stoics ought to have given an account; and this they did not do, and indeed it was never done in ancient times. For the ancients did not prove that the subjective element of thought and this objective content are really in their diversity the passing into one another, and that this identity is their truth; this was only found in Plato in an abstract form and as a first commencement. The unity of thought and conception is the difficult matter; thus if thought, as such, is the principle, it is abstract. The logic of the Stoics hence remained formal merely, and the attainment of a content could not be demonstrated. Thought and Being are themselves such abstractions, and we may move to and fro between them for long without arriving at any determination. Thus this unity of universal and particular cannot be the criterion. With the Stoics the conception as comprehended appears to be immediately asserted; it is a concrete, but it is not shown that this is the truth of these distinct elements. Against this immediately accepted concrete, the assertion of the difference of the two is thus quite consistent.

“In the second place,” says Arcesilaus, “there is no apprehended conception that is not also false, as has been confirmed many times and oft,” just as the Stoics themselves say that the apprehended conception could be both true and false. Determinate content has its opposite in a determinate which must likewise as an object of thought be true; and this destroys itself. In this consists the blind wandering about in thoughts and reasons such as these, which are not grasped as Idea, as the unity of opposites, but in one of the opposites asserts one thing, and then, with as good reason, the opposite. The truth of the world is, on the contrary, quite different, the universal law of reason which is as such for thought. Reasons are relatively ultimate for a content, but not absolutely ultimate; they can only be regarded as good reasons, as probability, as the Academics express it. This is a great truth which Arcesilaus had attained. But because no unity can thus come forth, he then draws the conclusion that the wise man must withhold his assent, that is, not that he should not think, but that he must not merely for that reason regard as true that which is thought. “For since nothing is comprehensible, he will, if he assents, assent to an incomprehensible; now because such an assent is opinion, the wise man will only be wise in opinion.” We still likewise hear this said: Man thinks, but does not thereby arrive at the truth; it remains beyond. Cicero (Acad. Quæst. IV. 24) thus expresses this: “Neither the false nor the true can be known, if the true were simply to be such as is the false.”

b. In relation to what is practical, Arcesilaus says: “But since the conduct of life without a criterion of the true or the false is impossible, and the end of life, or happiness, can only be determined through such grounds, the wise man, not withholding his approbation regarding everything, will, as regards what has to be done and left undone, direct his actions in accordance with the probable (εὔλογον),” as the subjectively convincing conception. What is right in this is that the good ground does not extend as far as truth. “Happiness is brought about by discretion (φρόνησις), and rational conduct operates in fitting and right action (κατορθώμασι); that is rightly done which is permitted by a well-grounded justification,” so that it appears to be true. “Thus, he who regards what is well-founded will do rightly and be happy,” but for this culture and intelligent thought are requisite. Arcesilaus thus remains at the indeterminate, at subjectivity of conviction, and a probability justified by good grounds. Thus we see that in regard to what is positive, Arcesilaus does not really get any further than the Stoics, nor say anything different from what they do; only the form is different, because, what the Stoics call true, Arcesilaus calls well-founded or probable. But, on the whole, he possessed a higher kind of knowledge than the Stoics, because what is thus founded cannot be held to have the significance of an implicit existence, but only a relative truth in consciousness.

2. CARNEADES.

Carneades was equally famous; he was one of the followers of Arcesilaus in the Academy, and he also lived in Athens, though considerably later. He was born in Cyrene in Ol. 141, 3 (217 B.C.), and died in Ol. 162, 4 (132 B.C.), thus being eighty-five years old; though, according to others he was as much as ninety. During the already mentioned (pp. 241, 242) embassy of the three philosophers to Rome, it was chiefly Carneades’ quickness, eloquence, and power of conviction, as also his great fame, which aroused remark, attracted men together, and gained great approbation in Rome. For he here held, after the manner of the Academics, two discourses on justice; the one for and the other against justice. That on which both generally speaking rested, can easily be discovered. In the justification of justice he took the universal as principle; but in showing its nullity, he laid weight on the principle of individuality, of self-interest. To the young Romans who knew little of the opposition in the Notion, this was something new; they had no idea of such methods of applying thought, were much attracted by them, and were soon won over to them. But the older Romans, and particularly the elder Cato, the Censor, who was then still living, saw this very unwillingly, and declaimed much against it, because the youths were thereby turned away from the strictness of ideas and virtues which prevailed in Rome. As the evil gained ground, Caius Acilius made a proposition in the Senate to banish all philosophers from the city, amongst whom, naturally, without their names being mentioned, those three ambassadors were included. The elder Cato, however, moved the Senate to conclude the business with the ambassadors as quickly as possible, so that they might again set forth, and return to their schools, and might henceforth instruct only the sons of the Greeks. The Roman youths might then as formerly give ear to their laws and magistrates, and learn wisdom from intercourse with the senators. But this taint can no more be avoided than could in Paradise the desire for knowledge. The knowledge which is a necessary moment in the culture of a people, thus makes its appearance as the Fall from innocence, and as corruption. An epoch such as this, in which thought appears to veer about, is then regarded as an evil as far as the security of the ancient constitution is concerned. But this evil of thought cannot be prevented by laws, &c.; it can and must be the healer of itself through itself alone, if thought through thought itself is truly brought to pass.

a. The philosophy of Carneades has been given to us in most detail by Sextus Empiricus; and all else of Carneades that we possess is likewise directed against the dogmatism of the Stoic and Epicurean philosophy. The fact that the nature of consciousness is what is most particularly considered makes his propositions interesting. While in Arcesilaus we still found a good reason or argument maintained, the principle which Carneades supported is expressed as that “in the first place there is absolutely no criterion of the truth, neither feeling, conception, nor thought, nor any other such thing; for all this put together deceives us.” This general empirical proposition is still in vogue. In developing the matter further, Carneades proves what he says from reasons, and we have the nature of consciousness more definitely expressed in the following: “In the second place he shows that even if such a criterion existed, it could not be without an affection (πάθος) of consciousness, which proceeds from perception.” For this, speaking generally, is his principal reflection, that every criterion must be constituted so that it has two elements, one being the objective, existent, immediately determined, while the other element is an affection, an activity, an attribute of consciousness, and belongs to the sensitive, conceiving or thinking subject—but as such it could not be the criterion. For this activity of consciousness consists in the fact that it changes the objective, and thus does not allow the objective as it is to come to us immediately. Hence the same attitude of separation is pre-supposed as formerly, viz. that the understanding is to be regarded as an ultimate and clearly absolute relationship.

α. As against the Epicureans, Carneades maintains this: “Because the living is distinguished from the dead through the activity of sensation, by this means it will comprehend itself and what is external. But this sensation which,” as Epicurus puts it (supra, p. 281), “remains unmoved and is impassive and unchangeable, is neither sensation nor does it comprehend anything. For not until they have been changed and determined by the invasion of the actual does sensation show forth things.” The sensation of Epicurus is an existent, but there is in it no principle of judgment, because each sensation is independent. But sensation must be analyzed in accordance with the two points of view there present, for as the soul is therein, determined, so likewise is that which determines determined by the energy of the conscious subject. Because I, as a living being, have sensation, a change in my consciousness takes place, which means that I am determined from without and from within. Consequently the criterion cannot be a simple determinateness, for it is really an implicit relationship in which two moments, sensation and thought, must be distinguished.

β. Since to Carneades sensation is merely what comes first, he then says: “The criterion is thus to be sought for in the affection of the soul by actuality.” For it is only in the mean between the energy of the soul and that of outward things that the criterion can fall. A determinate content of sensation such as this, which is at the same time again determined through consciousness, this passivity and activity of consciousness, this third something, Carneades called the conception which constituted to the Stoics the content of thought. Respecting this criterion, he says: “This being determined must, however, be an indication both of itself and of the apparent, or of the thing through which it is affected; this affection is none other than the conception. Hence in life the conception is something which presents both itself and the other. If we see something, the sight has an affection, and it no longer is just as it was before seeing. Through an alteration such as this there arise in us two things: first change itself, i.e. the ordinary conception” (the subjective side) “and then that which change produced, what is seen” (the objective). “Now just as the light shows itself and everything in it, the conception reigns over knowledge in the animal, and it must, like the light, make itself evident, and reveal the actual through which consciousness is affected.” This is quite the correct standpoint for consciousness, and it is in itself comprehensible, but it is only for the phenomenal mind that the other in the determinateness of consciousness is present. We now expect a development of this opposition; but Carneades passes into the region of empiricism without giving this further development. “Since the conception,” he continues, “does not always point to the truth, but often lies, and resembles bad messengers in that it misrepresents what it proceeds from, it follows that not every conception can give a criterion of the truth, but only that which is true, if any are so. But because none is so constituted that it might not also be false, conceptions are likewise a common criterion of the true as of the false, or they form no criterion.” Carneades also appealed to the fact of a conception proceeding even from something not existing, or—if the Stoics asserted that what in the objective is thinkingly apprehended is an existent—to the fact that the false may also be apprehended. In a popular way that is stated thus: There are also conceptions of untruth. Although I am convinced, it is still my conception merely, even if men think they have said something by saying that they have this conviction. They likewise say that insight or objective knowledge is still only the conviction of difference, but really the content is in its nature universal.

γ. Finally, “because no conception is a criterion, neither can thought be taken as such, for this depends on conception”—and must hence be just as uncertain as it is. “For to thought, that respecting which it judges must be conception; but conception cannot exist without unthinking sensation”—this may, however, be either true or false, “so that there is no criterion.” This constitutes the principle in the Academic philosophy—that on the one hand the conception is in itself this distinction of thought and existence, and that there is likewise a unity of both, which, however, is no absolutely existing unity. Philosophic culture of those times remained at this standpoint, and in modern times Reinhold also arrived at the same result.

b. Now what Carneades gave expression to of an affirmative nature respecting the criterion, is found in the statement that undoubtedly criteria are to be maintained for the conduct of life and for the acquisition of happiness, but not for the speculative consideration of what is in and for itself. Thus Carneades passes more into what is psychological, and into finite forms of the understanding consciousness; this is consequently no criterion respecting truth, but respecting the subjective habits and customs of the individual, and hence it also is of subjective truth alone, although it still remains a concrete end. “The conception is a conception of something; of that from which it comes as of the externally perceived object, and of the subject in which it is, e.g. of man. In this way it has two relationships—on the one hand to the object, and, on the other, to that which forms the conception. According to the former relationship it is either true or false; true if it harmonizes with what is conceived of, false if this is not so.” But this point of view cannot here in any way come under consideration, for the judgment respecting this harmony is most certainly not in a position to separate the matter itself from the matter as conceived. “According to the relationship to that which conceives, the one is conceived (φαινομένε) to be true, but the other is not conceived to be true.” Merely this relationship to the conceiver, however, comes under the consideration of the Academicians. “That conceived of as true is called by the Academician appearance (ἔμφασις) and conviction, and convincing conception; but what is not conceived as true is called incongruity (ἀπέμφασις) and non-conviction and non-convincing conception. For neither that which is presented to us through itself as untrue, nor what is true but is not presented to us, convinces us.”

Carneades thus determines the leading principle very much as does Arcesilaus, for he recognizes it merely in the form of a “convincing conception;” but as convincing it is “likewise a firm and a developed conception,” if it is to be a criterion of life. These distinctions, on the whole, pertain to a correct analysis, and likewise approximately appear in formal logic; they are very much the same stages as are found, according to Wolff, in the clear, distinct, and adequate conception. “We have now shortly to show what is the distinction between these three steps.”

α. “A convincing conception (πιθανή) is that which appears to be true and which is sufficiently obvious; it has a certain breadth as well, and may be applied in many ways and in a great variety of cases; ever verifying itself more through repetitions,” as in the case of Epicurus, “it makes itself ever more convincing and trustworthy.” No further account of its content is given, but what is so frequently produced is, as empirical universality, made the first criterion. But this is only an individual and, speaking generally, an immediate and quite simple conception.

β. “Because, however, a conception is never for itself alone, but one depends on another as in a chain, the second criterion is added, viz. that it should be both convincing and secure (ἀπερίσπαστος),” i.e. connected and determined on all sides, so that it cannot be changed, nor drawn this way and that and made variable by circumstances; and other conceptions do not contradict it, because it is known in this connection with others. This is quite a correct determination, which everywhere appears in the universal. Nothing is seen or said alone, for a number of circumstances stand in connection with it. “For example, in the conception of a man much is contained, both as to what concerns himself and what surrounds him: as to the former, there is colour, size, form, movement, dress, &c.; and in reference to the latter, air, light, friends, and the like. If none of such circumstances make us uncertain or cause us to think the others false, but when all uniformly agree, the conception is the more convincing.” Thus when a conception is in harmony with the manifold circumstances in which it stands, it is secure. A cord may be thought to be a snake, but all the circumstances of the same have not been considered. “Thus, as in judging of an illness all the symptoms must be brought under our consideration, so the fixed conception has conviction because all circumstances agree.”

γ. “Even more trustworthy than the fixed conception is the conception as developed (διεξωδευμένη), which brings about perfect conviction,” the third moment. “While in the case of the fixed conception we only investigate whether the circumstances agree with one another, in the developed conception each one of the circumstances existing in harmony is strictly inquired into on its own account. Thus he who judges as well as what is judged and that according to which judgment is given, are subject to investigations. Just as in common life in some unimportant matter one witness satisfies us, in one more important several are required, and in a case which is more material still the individual witnesses are themselves examined through a comparison of their testimonies, so in less important matters a general convincing conception satisfies us, in things of a certain importance one which is established, but in those which pertain to a good and happy life one which is investigated in its parts is required.” We thus see—in contradistinction to those who place truth in what is immediate, and, especially in recent times, in sensuous perception, in an immediate knowledge, whether as inward revelation or outward perception—that this kind of certainty with Carneades rightly takes the lowest place; the conception worked out and developed really is to him the essential one, and yet it appears in a formal manner only. In fact, the truth is only in thinking knowledge, and if Carneades does not exhaust all that can be said of the nature of this knowledge, he still has rightly emphasized an essential moment in it, the opening out and the judging movements of the moments.

In the New Academy we see the subjective side of conviction expressed, or the belief that not the truth as truth, but its manifestation, or really what it is to the conception, is present in consciousness. Thus only subjective certainty is demanded; of the truth nothing more is said, for only what is relative in respect of consciousness is considered. Just as the Academic principle limited itself to the subjective act of the convincing conception, so likewise did the Stoics really place implicit existence in thought, and Epicurus in perception; but they called this the truth. The Academicians, on the contrary, set it up against the truth, and asserted that it is not the existent as such. They had thus a consciousness that the implicit really has the moment of consciousness in it, and that without this it cannot exist; this was also a fundamental principle to the former, but they were not conscious of it. Though, according to this, the implicit has now an essential relation to consciousness, this last is still in contrast with the truth; to conscious knowledge, as to the moment of explicitude, the implicit thus still stands in the background, it still confronts it, but at the same time it includes the explicit as an essential moment, even in antagonism to itself; in other words, consciousness is not yet set forth in and for itself. Now, if this Academic standpoint is driven to its ultimate limit, it amounts to this, that everything is clearly for consciousness alone, and that the form of an existent, and of the knowledge of existence, also quite disappears as form; this, however, is Scepticism. Thus if the Academicians still preferred one conviction, one estimate of truth to another, as that in which the aim of a self-existent truth might be said to dwell, or float before their eyes, there still remains this simple belief in the validity of opinion without distinction, or the fact that everything is in like manner only related to consciousness, and is, in fact, phenomenal alone. Thus the Academy had no longer any fixed subsistence, but hereby really passed into Scepticism, which merely asserted a subjective belief in truth, so that all objective truth has really been denied.

D. SCEPTICISM.

Scepticism completed the theory of the subjectivity of all knowledge by the fact that in knowledge it universally substituted for Being the expression appearance. Now this Scepticism undoubtedly appears to be something most impressive, to which great respect is due from man. In all times as now, it has been held to be the most formidable, and, indeed, the invincible opponent of Philosophy, because it signifies the art of dissolving all that is determinate, and showing it in its nullity. Thus it might almost appear as though it were held to be in itself invincible, and as though the only difference in convictions were whether the individual decided for it or for a positive, dogmatic philosophy. Its result undoubtedly is the disintegration of the truth, and, consequently, of all content, and thus perfect negation. The invincibility of Scepticism must undoubtedly be granted, only, however, in a subjective sense as regards the individual, who may keep to the point of view of taking no notice of Philosophy, and only asserting the negative. Scepticism in this way seems to be something to which men give themselves over, and we have the impression that we are not able to get within reach of anyone who thus throws himself entirely into Scepticism; another man, however, simply rests content with his philosophy, because he takes no notice of Scepticism, and this is really what he ought to do, for, properly speaking, it cannot be refuted. Certainly if we were merely to escape from it, it would not in reality have been defeated, for on its side it would remain where it was, and in possession of the field. For positive philosophy allows Scepticism to exist beside it; Scepticism, on the other hand, encroaches upon the domain of positive philosophy, for Scepticism has power to overcome the other, while positive philosophy cannot do the same to it. If anyone actually desires to be a Sceptic, he cannot be convinced, or be brought to a positive philosophy, any more than he who is paralyzed in all his limbs can be made to stand. Scepticism is, in fact, such paralysis—an incapacity for truth which can only reach certainty of self, and not of the universal, remaining merely in the negative, and in individual self-consciousness. To keep oneself in individuality depends on the will of the individual; no one can prevent a man from doing this, because no one can possibly drive another out of nothing. But thinking Scepticism is quite different; it is the demonstration that all that is determinate and finite is unstable. As to this, positive philosophy may have the consciousness that it has the negation to Scepticism in itself; thus it does not oppose it, nor is it outside of it, for Scepticism is a moment in it. But this is true in such a way that this philosophy comprehends in itself the negative in its truth, as it is not present in Scepticism.

The relation of Scepticism to Philosophy is further this, that the former is the dialectic of all that is determinate. The finitude of all conceptions of truth can be shown, for they contain in themselves a negation, and consequently a contradiction. The ordinary universal and infinite is not exalted over this, for the universal which confronts the particular, the indeterminate which opposes the determinate, the infinite which confronts the finite, each form only the one side, and, as such, are only a determinate. Scepticism is similarly directed against the thought of the ordinary understanding which makes determinate differences appear to be ultimate and existent. But the logical Notion is itself this dialectic of Scepticism, for this negativity which is characteristic of Scepticism likewise belongs to the true knowledge of the Idea. The only difference is that the sceptics remain at the result as negative, saying, “This and this has an internal contradiction, it thus disintegrates itself, and consequently does not exist.” But this result as merely negative is itself again a one-sided determinateness opposed to the positive; i.e. Scepticism only holds its place as abstract understanding. It makes the mistake of thinking that this negation is likewise a determinate affirmative content in itself; for it is, as the negation of negation, the self-relating negativity or infinite affirmation. This, put quite abstractly, is the relation of Philosophy to Scepticism. The Idea, as abstract Idea, is the quiescent and inert; it only is in truth in as far as it grasps itself as living. This occurs because it is implicitly dialectic, in order to abrogate that inert quiescence, and to change itself. But if the philosophic Idea is thus implicitly dialectic, it is not so in a contingent manner. Scepticism, on the contrary, exercises its dialectic contingently, for just as the material comes up before it, it shows in the same that implicitly it is negative.

The older Scepticism must further be distinguished from the modern, and it is only with the former that we have to do, for it alone is of a true, profound nature; the modern more resembles Epicureanism. Thus Schulze of Göttingen has in recent times boasted of his Scepticism; he wrote an “Ænesidemus” in order thus to compare himself with that sceptic; and in other works, too, he put forward Scepticism in opposition to Leibnitz and to Kant. Nevertheless, he ignores entirely the true position of Scepticism as it has just been described, and instead of representing the true distinction which exists between his Scepticism and the ancient, Schulze recognizes nothing but Dogmatism and Scepticism, and not the third philosophy at all. Schulze and others make it fundamental that we must consider sensuous Being, what is given to us by sensuous consciousness, to be true; all else must be doubted. What we think is ultimate, the facts of consciousness. The older sceptics, indeed, allowed that men must direct their actions in accordance with this last, but to assert it to be the truth did not occur to them. Modern Scepticism is only directed against thought, against the Notion and the Idea, and thus against what is in a higher sense philosophic; it consequently leaves the reality of things quite unquestioned, and merely asserts that from it nothing can be argued as regards thought. But that is not even a peasants’ philosophy, for they know that all earthly things are transient, and that thus their Being is as good as their non-being. Modern Scepticism is the subjectivity and vanity of consciousness, which is undoubtedly invincible, not, however, to science and truth, but merely to itself, this subjectivity. For it goes no further than saying, “This is held by me to be true, my feeling, my heart is ultimate to me.” But here certainty is alone in question, and not truth; and, indeed, this nowadays is no longer called Scepticism. But the conviction of this individual subject expresses nothing at all, however high the matter which we talk of is supposed to be. Thus because on the one hand it is said that the truth is merely the conviction of another, and on the other hand personal conviction, which is also a ‘merely,’ is set on high, we must leave this subject alone, first on account of its high pretensions, and then on account of its lowliness. The result of the older Scepticism is indeed the subjectivity of knowledge only, but this is founded on an elaborately thought out annihilation of everything which is held to be true and existent, so that everything is made transient.

According to this, the function of Scepticism is wrongly termed the inculcation of proneness to doubt; nor can we translate σκέψις by Doubt, if Scepticism was also called by Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. 3, § 7) ephectic (ἐφεκτική) because one of its chief points was that judgment must be suspended. Doubt, however, is only uncertainty, irresolution, indecision, the thought which is opposed to something held to be valid. Doubt proceeds from the fact of there being two; it is a passing to and fro between two or more points of view, so that we neither rest at the one nor the other—and yet we ought to remain at one point or another. Thus doubt in man is quite likely to involve a rending asunder of mind and spirit; it gives unrest and brings unhappiness with it; doubts, for instance, arise respecting the immortality of the soul and the existence of God. Forty years ago, much was written about this; in poetry, too, we found the situation of the doubter was a subject of the greatest interest, the unhappiness of doubt being depicted to us as in the “Messias.” This supposes a deep interest in a content, and the desire of the mind that this content should either be established in it or not, because it desires to find its rest either in the one or the other. Such doubt is said to betoken a keen and sharp-witted thinker, but it is only vanity and simple verbiage, or a feebleness that can never arrive at anything. This Scepticism has nowadays entered into our life, and it thus makes itself of account as this universal negativity. But the older Scepticism does not doubt, being certain of untruth, and indifferent to the one as to the other; it does not only flit to and fro with thoughts that leave the possibility that something may still be true, but it proves with certainty the untruth of all. Or its doubt to it is certainty which has not the intention of attaining to truth, nor does it leave this matter undecided, for it is completely at a point, and perfectly decided, although this decision is not truth to it. This certainty of itself thus has as result the rest and security of the mind in itself, which is not touched with any grief, and of which doubt is the direct opposite. This is the standpoint of the imperturbability of Scepticism.

Now what has to be considered even before treating of Scepticism itself, is its external history. As regards the origin of Scepticism the Sceptics say that it is very old, that is, if we take it in the quite indeterminate and universal sense, in so far as to say “Things are, but their Being is not true, for it likewise involves their non-being; or they are changeable. For example, this day is to-day, but to-morrow is also to-day, &c.; it is day now but night is also now, &c.” Thus of what in this way is allowed to be a determinate, the opposite is also expressed. Now if it be said that all things are transient, things may in the first place be changed; however this is not only possible, but the fact that all things are transient really means when taken in its universality:—“Nothing exists in itself, for its reality is the abrogation of self, because things in themselves, in accordance with their necessity, are transient. Only now are they thus; at another time they are different, and this time, the now, is itself no more while I am speaking of it; for time is not itself fixed, and it makes nothing fixed.” This uncertainty in what is sensuous represents a long-standing belief amongst the unphilosophic public as well as amongst philosophers up to this time; and this negativity in all determinations likewise constitutes the characteristic feature of Scepticism. The Sceptics have also presented this position in an historic way, and they show that even Homer was a sceptic, because he speaks of the same things in opposite ways. They also count in this category Bias, with his maxim “Pledge thyself never.” For this has the general sense “Do not consider anything to be anything, do not attach yourself to any object to which you devote yourself, do not believe in the security of any relationship, &c.” Likewise the negative aspect of the philosophy of Zeno and Xenophanes is said to be sceptical, and further, Heraclitus, too, with his principle that everything flows, that everything is consequently contradictory and transient; finally Plato and the Academy are sceptical, only here Scepticism is not yet quite clearly expressed. All this may be taken as being in part the sceptical uncertainty of everything; but that is not its real meaning. It is not this conscious and universal negativity; as conscious, it must prove, as universal, it must extend the untruth of the objective to everything; thus it is not a negativity which says definitely that everything is not implicit but is only for self-consciousness, and everything merely goes back into the certainty of itself. As philosophic consciousness Scepticism is consequently of later date. By Scepticism we must understand a specially constituted consciousness for which in some measure not only sensuous Being, but also Being for thought does not hold true, and which can then with consciousness account for the nullity of that which is asserted to be reality; and finally, in a general way, it not only annuls this and that sensuous fact or thought, but is adapted for the recognition in everything of its untruth.

The history of Scepticism, properly so called, is usually commenced with Pyrrho as being its founder; and from him the names Pyrrhonism and Pyrrhonic are derived. Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 3, § 7) says of him “that he went into Scepticism more fully (σωματικώτερον) and clearly than did his predecessors.” He is earlier than some of the philosophers already considered; but because Scepticism is to be taken as a whole, Pyrrho’s Scepticism, even if it is merely aimed against the immediate truth both of the senses and of morality, must be taken along with the later Scepticism, which directs its attention rather against the truth as thought, as will be farther shown on a closer consideration; for this last was the first, properly speaking, to make a sensation. As to the events of Pyrrho’s life, they appear to be as much a matter of doubt as his doctrine; for they are without any connection, and little is known for certain concerning them. Pyrrho lived in the time of Aristotle and was born at Elis. I shall not give the names of his instructors; Anaxarchus, a disciple of Democritus, is specially mentioned amongst them. We cannot discover where he really lived, for the most part at least. As a proof of how very much he was esteemed during his life, it is said that his native town chose him as head priest, and the town of Athens gave him the right of citizenship. It is finally stated that he accompanied Alexander the Great in his journey to Asia; and that there he had considerable dealings with magicians and Brahmins. We are told that Alexander had him put to death because he desired the death of a Persian satrap; and this fate befel him in his ninetieth year. If all this is to be accepted, since Alexander spent between twelve and fourteen years in Asia, Pyrrho must at the earliest have set out on his travels in his seventy-eighth year. Pyrrho does not appear to have come forward as a public teacher, but merely to have left behind him individual friends who had been educated by him. Anecdotes are told, not so much about the circumstances of his life as about the sceptical manner in which he conducted himself, and in them his behaviour is made to look ridiculous; in this the universal of Scepticism is set against a particular case, so that what is absurd shoots up as of itself into relationships which appear to be consistent. For because he asserted that the reality of sensuous things has no truth, it is, for instance, said that were he walking he would go out of the way of no object, no waggon or horse that came towards him; or he would go straight up against a wall, completely disbelieving in the reality of sensuous sensations and such like. They also said that it was only the friends surrounding him who drew him away from such dangers and saved him. But such anecdotes are evidently extravagant, because, for one thing, it is not conceivable that he could have followed Alexander to Asia at ninety years of age. It is also very clear that such stories are simply invented with the object of ridiculing the sceptical philosophy, by following out its principle to such extreme consequences. To the Sceptics sensuous existence undoubtedly holds good as phenomenal in so far as the regulation of ordinary conduct is concerned (infra, p. 343), but not in as far as it is held to be the truth; for even the followers of the New Academy said that men must not only direct their lives in accordance with rules of prudence, but also in accordance with the laws of sensuous manifestation (supra, pp. 319, 324).

After Pyrrho, Timon of Phliasis, the sillographist, became specially famous. Of his Silli, i.e. biting remarks respecting all philosophies, many are quoted by the ancients; they are certainly bitter and disdainful enough, but many of them are not very witty or worthy of being preserved. Dr. Paul collected them in an essay, but in it much is given that is meaningless. Goethe and Schiller certainly show more capacity in works of a similar nature. The Pyrrhonians hereupon disappear,—they seem in general only to have shown themselves in a more or less isolated way; for a long time after this we read in history of the Peripatetics, Stoics and Epicureans being confronted only by the Academicians and perhaps some of the older Sceptics who are mentioned likewise.

Ænesidemus was the first to reawaken Scepticism; he was of Cnossus in Crete, and lived in Cicero’s time in Alexandria, which soon began to compete with Athens for the honour of being the seat of Philosophy and the sciences. Subsequently, when the Academy lost itself in Scepticism, we see the latter, from which the former is all the same only separated by a thin partition, taking up a position of predominance as representing the purely negative point of view. But a scepticism such as that of Pyrrho, which does not as yet show much culture or tendency towards thought, but which is directed only against what is sensuous, could have no interest in the culture of Philosophy as it is found in Stoicism, Epicureanism, Platonism, &c. Thus it is requisite, in order that Scepticism should appear with the dignity pertaining to Philosophy, that it should itself be developed on its philosophic side; and this was first done by Ænesidemus.

However, one of the most celebrated of the Sceptics, whose works we still in great measure possess, and who for us is by far the most important writer upon Scepticism, because he gives us detailed accounts of this philosophy, is Sextus Empiricus, of whose life unfortunately as good as nothing is known. He was a physician, and that he was an empirical physician, who did not act according to theory but in accordance with what appears, his name tells us. He lived and taught about the middle of the second century after Christ. His works are divided into two parts: first, his Pyrrhoniæ Hypotyposes, in three books, which give us somewhat of a general presentation of Scepticism, and secondly his books adversus Mathematicos, i.e. against scientific knowledge generally, and more especially against the geometricians, arithmeticians, grammarians, musicians, logicians, physicists, and moral philosophers. There were in all eleven books, six of which are actually directed against mathematicians, but the other five against the philosophers.

The distinction between the Academy and Scepticism was a matter as to which the Sceptics exercised themselves much. The New Academy really bordered so closely upon Scepticism, that the Sceptics had enough to do to dissociate themselves from it, and in the Sceptic school a long and important battle raged as to whether Plato, and subsequently the New Academy, belonged to Scepticism or not; in the course of this we also see that Sextus did not really know what to make of Plato. The Sceptics are, on the whole, very careful to distinguish their own from other systems. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 1, §§ 1-4) distinguishes three philosophies: “He who seeks an object must either find it or deny that it can be found, or persevere in the search. Now the same holds good with philosophic investigations; some assert that they have found the truth; others deny that it can be grasped; a third set are still engaged in search. The first, like Aristotle, Epicurus, the Stoics, and others, are the so-called Dogmatists; those who assert incomprehensibility are the Academicians; the Sceptics still continue to seek. Hence there are three philosophies: the Dogmatic, the Academic and the Sceptical.” For this reason, the Sceptics called themselves the seekers (ζητητικοί), and their philosophy the seeking (ζητητική). However, the distinction between Scepticism and the New Academy rests in the form of expression only, and is thus not a great one: indeed it is founded only on the mania of the Sceptics to cut off and to shun any sort of assertive statement. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 7, § 13; c 10, §§ 19-20) says: “The Sceptic does not dogmatize, but only assents to the affections into which he is impelled, not of his own will, by the conceptions; thus, if for example, he is warm or cold, he will certainly not say, I seem not to be cold or warm. But if it be asked if the subject is as it appears, we allow appearance (φαίνεσθαι); yet we do not investigate the thing that appears, but only the predicate predicate (ὃ λέγεται) expressing its appearance. Thus, whether anything is sweet or not, we consider only as regards the Notion Notion (ὄσον ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ); but that is not what appears, but what is said of what appears. But if we institute direct investigations respecting what appears, we do so not in order to destroy what appears, but in order to condemn the rashness (προπέτειαν) of the dogmatists.” Thus the Sceptics endeavour to bring about the result that in what they say no expression of a Being can be demonstrated, so that, for example, in a proposition, they always set appearance in the place of existence. According to Sextus they say (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 7, § 14; c. 28, § 206): “The Sceptic makes use of his propositions—for example, determine nothing (οὐδὲν ὁρίζειν), not the more (οὐδὲν μᾶλλον), nothing is true, &c.—not as if they really did exist. For he believes, for instance, that the proposition, everything is false, asserts that itself as well as the others is false, and consequently limits it (συμπεριγράφει). Thus we must similarly in all sceptical propositions recollect that we do not at all assert their truth; for we say that they may destroy themselves, since that limits them of which they are predicated.” Now, the New Academy of Carneades does not express anything as being the true and existent, or as anything to which thought could agree; the Sceptics thus come very near to the Academy. Pure Scepticism merely makes this objection to the Academy, that it is still impure. Sextus says (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, §§ 226-233): “But clearly they differ from us in the judgment of good and evil. For they assert that something is good or evil,” that is to say, the former is the withholding of assent, and the latter the granting of it (supra, p. 315), “whereby they are convinced of its being probable that what of good is attributed to the predicate, is more likely to be good than the opposite.” Thus they have not elevated themselves to the purity of Scepticism, because they speak of existence, and not of appearance. But this is nothing more than a mere form, for the content immediately destroys that which in form appears to be an assertion. If we say: “Something is a good, thought assents to it,” and then ask, “But what is the good to which thought assents?” the content here is that it should not assent. Hence the form is, “It is a good,” but the content is that nothing should be held to be good or true. Thus the Sceptics also assert this: To the Sceptics “all conceptions are alike in trustworthiness or untrustworthiness in relation to the ground,” to truth. “But the Academicians say that some are probable, and others improbable, and amongst the probable, some again are to be preferred to the others.” Preference is thus one of the forms which the Sceptics also object to (infra, p. 345); for such expressions strike them as still too positive.

Now, speaking generally, the essential nature of Scepticism consists in its considering that to self-consciousness on its own account, there proceeds from the disappearance of all that is objective, all that is held to be true, existent or universal, all that is definite, all that is affirmative, through the withholding of assent, the immovability and security of mind, this imperturbability in itself. Hence the same result is obtained, that we have already seen in systems of philosophy immediately preceding this. Thus as soon as anything is held to be truth to self-consciousness, we find the result that to self-consciousness this truth is the universal reality, passing beyond itself, and in regard to this, self-consciousness esteems itself as nothing. But this external and determinate truth, as finite, is not implicitly existent, so that its necessity is to vacillate and give way. Then when this security disappears, self-consciousness itself loses its equilibrium, and becomes driven hither and thither in unrest, fear and anguish; for its stability and rest is the permanence of its existence and truth. But sceptical self-consciousness is just this subjective liberation from all the truth of objective Being, and from the placing of its existence in anything of the kind; Scepticism thus makes its end the doing away with the unconscious servitude in which the natural self-consciousness is confined, the returning into its simplicity, and, in so far as thought establishes itself in a content, the curing it of having a content such as this established in thought. “The effective principle of Scepticism,” Sextus hence tells us (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 6, § 12, c. 12, §§ 25-30), “is the hope of attaining to security. Men of distinguished excellence, disquieted through the instability of things, and dubious as to which should in preference be given assent to, began the investigation of what is the truth and what false in things, as if they could reach imperturbability through the decision of such matters. But while engaged in this investigation, man attains the knowledge that opposite determinations,” desires, customs, &c., “have equal power,” and thus resolve themselves; “since in this way he cannot decide between them, he really only then attains to imperturbability when he withholds his judgment. For if he holds anything to be good or evil by nature, he never is at rest, whether it be that he does not possess what he holds to be good, or that he thinks himself vexed and assailed by natural evil. But he who is undecided respecting that which is good and beautiful in nature, neither shuns nor seeks anything with zeal; and thus he remains unmoved. What happened to the painter Apelles, befalls the Sceptic. For it is told that when he was painting a horse, and was altogether unsuccessful in rendering the foam, he finally in anger threw the sponge on which he had wiped his brushes, and in which every colour was therefore mixed, against the picture, and thereby formed a true representation of foam.” Thus, the Sceptics find in the mingling of all that exists, and of all thoughts, the simple self-identity of self-consciousness which “follows mind as the shadow does the body,” and is only acquired, and can only be acquired through reason. “Hence we say that the end of the Sceptic is imperturbability in the conceptions and moderation in the affections which he is compelled to have.” This is the indifference which the animals have by nature, and the possession of which through reason distinguishes men from animals. Thus, Pyrrho once showed to his fellow-passengers on board a ship, who were afraid during a storm, a pig, which remained quite indifferent and peacefully ate on, saying to them: in such indifference the wise man must also abide. However the indifference must not be like that of the pig, but must be born of reason. But if to Scepticism existence was only a manifestation or conception, it was yet esteemed by it as that in respect to which the Sceptics directed their conduct, both in what they did, and what they left undone. The above-quoted (p. 336) anecdotes about Pyrrho are thus opposed to what the Sceptics themselves said on the subject: “We undoubtedly direct our conduct in accordance with a reason which, in conformity with sensuous phenomena, teaches us to live conformably to the customs and laws of our country, and in consonance with recognized institutions and personal affections.” But for them this had only the significance of a subjective certainty and conviction, and not the value of an absolute truth.

Thus the universal method of Scepticism was, as Sextus Empiricus puts it (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 4, §§ 8-10; c. 6, § 12): “a power of in some way or other setting what is felt, and what is thought, in opposition, whether it be the sensuous to the sensuous, and what is thought to what is thought, or what is sensuous to what is thought, or what is thought to what is sensuous, i.e. showing that any one of these has as much force and weight as its opposite, and is hence equivalent as far as conviction and non-conviction are concerned. From this the suspension of judgment (ἐποχή) results, in conformity with which we select and posit nothing, and thereby complete freedom from all mental emotion is attained. The principle of Scepticism is thus found in the proposition that each reason is confronted by another, which holds equally good. We do not, however, necessarily accept affirmation and negation as opposite grounds, but merely those that conflict with one another.” That which is felt is really existence for sensuous certainty, which simply accepts it as truth; or it is that which is felt in the Epicurean form, which consciously asserts it to be true. What is thought is in the Stoic form a determinate Notion, a content in a simple form of thought; both these classes, immediate consciousness and thinking consciousness, comprehend everything which is in any way to be set in opposition. In as far as Scepticism limits itself to this, it is a moment in Philosophy itself, which last, having an attitude of negativity in relation to both, only recognizes them as true in their abrogation. But Scepticism thinks that it reaches further; it sets up a pretension of venturing against the speculative Idea and conquering it; Philosophy, however, since Scepticism itself is present in it as a moment, rather overcomes it (supra, p. 330). As far as what is sensuous and what is thought in their separation are concerned, it certainly may conquer, but the Idea is neither the one nor the other, and it does not touch on the rational at all. The perpetual misunderstanding which those who do not know the nature of the Idea are under concerning Scepticism, is that they think that the truth necessarily falls into the one form or the other, and is thus either a determinate Notion or a determinate Being. Against the Notion as Notion, i.e. against the absolute Notion, Scepticism does not in any way proceed; the absolute Notion is rather its weapon of defence, though Scepticism has no consciousness of this. We shall on the one hand see Scepticism use that weapon against the finite, and on the other, how it tries its skill upon the rational.

But though, according to this, Scepticism always expresses itself as if everything were in appearance only, the Sceptics go further than those who support the newer and purely formal idealism. For they deal with content, and demonstrate of all content that it is either experienced by the senses or thought, and consequently that it has something in opposition to it. Thus they show in the same thing the contradiction that exists, so that of everything that is presented the opposite also holds good. This is the objective element in Scepticism in its manifestation, and that through which it is not subjective idealism. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 13, §§ 32, 33) says: “Thus, for instance, the sensuous is set against the sensuous by our being reminded of the fact that the same tower when looked at near is square and when regarded in the distance looks round;” and hence the one assertion is as good as the other. This, indeed, is a very trivial example, but its interest lies in the thought that is present in it. “Or what is thought is set in opposition to what is thought. As to the fact that there is a providence,” which rewards the good and punishes the evil, “men appeal,” as against those who deny it, “to the system of the heavenly bodies; to this it is objected that the good often fare badly and the evil well, from which we demonstrate that there is no providence.” As to the “opposition of what is thought to the sensuous,” Sextus adduces the conclusion of Anaxagoras, who asserts of the snow, that although it appears to be white, regarded in relation to the reasons given by reflection it is black. For it is frozen water, but water has no colour and hence is black; consequently snow must be the same.

We must now consider further the method in which the Sceptics proceed, and it consists in this, that they have brought the universal principle that each definite assertion has to be set over against its ‘other,’ into certain forms, not propositions. Thus, in view of the nature of Scepticism, we cannot ask for any system of propositions, nor will this philosophy really be a system; just as little did it lie in the spirit of Scepticism to form a school, properly speaking, but only an external connection in the wider sense of the word. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 8, § 16, c. 3, § 7) hence says that Scepticism is no selection (αἵρεσις) of dogmas, it is not a preference for certain propositions, but only that which leads, or rather which directs us (ἀγωγή) to live rightly and think correctly; thus it is in this way rather a method or manner by which only universal modes of that opposition are shown. Now since what sort of thoughts reveal themselves is a matter of contingency, the manner and mode of grasping them is contingent likewise; for in one the contradiction appears thus and in another otherwise. These determinate modes of opposition, whereby the withholding of assent comes to pass, the Sceptics called tropes (τρόποι), which are turned upon everything that is thought and felt in order to show that this is not what it is implicitly, but only in relation to another—that it thus itself appears in another, and allows this other to appear in it, and consequently that, speaking generally, what is, only seems; and this, indeed, follows directly from the matter in itself, and not from another which is assumed as true. If, for example, men say that empiric science has no truth because truth exists only in reason, this is only assuming the opposite of empiricism; likewise the truth of reason proved in itself is not a refutation of empiric science, for this last stands alongside of the former with equal rights as, and within the same.

Now since the sceptical doctrine consists in the art of demonstrating contradictions through these tropes, we only require to elucidate these modes. The Sceptics themselves, like Sextus, for example (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, 15) distinguish in these forms the earlier and the later: ten of them belong to the elder Sceptics, that is to say to Pyrrho, and five were afterwards added by the later Sceptics, and Diogenes Laertius indeed tells us (IX. 88) that this was first done by Agrippa. From a specification of these it will be shown that the earlier are directed against the ordinary consciousness generally and belong to a thought of little culture, to a consciousness which has sensuous existence immediately before it. For they proceed against what we call common belief in the immediate truth of things, and refute it in a manner which is immediate likewise, not through the Notion but through the existence which is opposed to it. In their enumeration, too, there is this same absence of the Notion. But the five others appear to be better, have more interest, and are manifestly of later origin; they proceed against reflection, i.e. against a consciousness which relates itself to the developed understanding, and thus specially against thought-forms, scientific categories, the thought of the sensuous, and the determination of the same through Notions. Now though the most part of these may appear to us to be quite trivial, we must still be indulgent towards them, for they are historically, and consequently really, directed against the form “it is.” But without doubt it is a very abstract consciousness that makes this abstract form “it is” its object and combats it. However trivial then and commonplace these tropes may always appear to be, even more trivial and commonplace is the reality of the so-called external objects, that is, immediate knowledge, as when, for instance, I say “This is yellow.” Men ought not to talk about philosophy, if in this innocent way they assert the reality of such determinations. But this Scepticism was really far from holding things of immediate certainty to be true; thus it actually stands in contrast to modern Scepticism, in which it is believed that what is in our immediate consciousness, or indeed, all that is sensuous, is a truth (supra, pp. 331, 332). As distinguished from this, the older Scepticism, the modes of which we would now consider further, is directed against the reality of things.

1. THE EARLIER TROPES.

In the earlier tropes we see the lack of abstraction appearing as the incapacity to grasp their diversitude under more simple general points of view, although they all, in fact, partly under a simple conception and partly in their difference, do in fact converge into some necessary simple determinations. From all alike, in relation to immediate knowledge, is the insecurity demonstrated of that of which we say “it is.” Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, § 38) even remarks, that “all the tropes may be summed up in three: the one is the judging subject; the other that respecting which the judgment is made; the third that which contains both sides”—the relation of subject and object. If thought is developed further, it embraces things in these more general determinations.

a. “The first trope is the diversitude in animal organization, according to which different living beings experience different conceptions and sensations respecting the same object. This the Sceptics conclude from the different nature of their origin, because some are brought into being through copulation and others without copulation” (from a generatio æquivoca): “but of the first some are hatched from eggs, and others come immediately living into the world, &c. Thus it is a matter of no doubt that this difference of origin produces opposite constitutions, temperaments, &c. The variety in the parts of the body, and particularly in those which are given to the animal for purposes of distinguishing and feeling, thus produces in them the greatest differences in conceptions. For instance, the jaundiced patient sees as yellow what to others appears white,” and as green, what to the latter seems blue. “Similarly the eyes of animals are differently constructed in different species, and have different colours, being pale, grey or red; consequently what is perceived thereby must be different.”

This difference in the subject undoubtedly establishes a difference in perception, and this last a difference between the conception and the nature of the object of perception. But if we say “That is,” we mean something fixed, maintaining itself under all conditions; whereas in opposition to this the Sceptics show that everything is variable. But if they thereby destroy similarity and identity for the senses, and consequently this universality, another steps in, for universality or existence rests simply in the fact of men knowing that, in the hackneyed example of the jaundiced man, things appear so to him, i.e. the necessary law is known whereby a change of sensation arises for him. But certainly it is implied in this that the first sensuous universality is not true universality, because it is one immediate and unknown; and in it as sensuous existence, its non-universality is rightly demonstrated within itself through another universality. As against the statement “This is blue because I see it as such,” which clearly makes sight the ground of its being asserted to be blue, it is quite fair to point to another who has immediate perception of the object and for whom it is not blue.

b. The second trope, the diversitude of mankind in reference to feelings and conditions, amounts very much to the same thing as in the first case. In respect to difference in constitution of body, the Sceptics discover many idiosyncrasies. As regards the proposition “Shade is cool,” for instance, they say that someone felt cold in the sunlight, but warm in shadow; as against the statement “Hemlock is poisonous,” they instance an old woman in Attica who could swallow a large dose of hemlock without harm—thus the predicate poisonous is not objective, because it suits the one and not the other. Because such great bodily differences are present amongst men, and the body is the image of the soul, men must have a diversity of mind likewise and give the most contradictory judgments, so that no one can know whom to believe. To judge by the greater number would be foolish, for all men cannot be inquired of. This trope again relates to the immediate; if, therefore, what has to be done is merely to believe some statement inasmuch as it is made by others, undoubtedly nothing but contradiction takes place. But a belief like this, that is ready to believe anything, is, as a matter of fact, incapable of understanding what is said; it is an immediate acceptance of an immediate proposition. For it did not demand the reason; but the reason is, in the first place, the mediation and the meaning of the words of the immediate proposition. Diversitude in men is really something which now likewise appears in other forms. It is said that men differ in regard to taste, religion, &c.; that religion must be left for each to decide for himself; that each, from a standpoint of his own, must settle how things are to be regarded as far as religion is concerned. The consequence of this is that in regard to religion there is nothing objective or true, everything ends in subjectivity, and the result is indifference to all truth. For then there is no longer a church; each man has a church and a liturgy of his own, each has his own religion. The Sceptics more particularly—as those who in all times spare themselves the trouble of philosophizing, on some sort of pretext, and who try to justify this evasion—persistently preach the diversity of philosophies; Sextus Empiricus does this very expressly, and it may even be brought forward here, although it will appear more definitely as the first of the later tropes. If the principle of the Stoics, as it is in its immediacy, holds good, the opposite principle, that of the Epicureans, has just as much truth, and holds equally good. In this way, when it is said that some particular philosophy asserts and maintains certain propositions, the greatest diversity is undoubtedly to be found. For here we have the talk which we censured earlier (Vol. I. p. 16): “Since the greatest men of all times have thought so differently and have not been able to come to an agreement, it would be presumptuous on our part to believe we had found what they could not attain to,” and with those who speak thus, the timid shrinking from knowledge makes out the inertness of their reason to be a virtue. Now if the diversity cannot be denied, because it is a fact that the philosophies of Thales, Plato, and Aristotle were different, and that this was not merely apparently the case, but that they contradicted one another, this way of wishing in such statements of them to gain a knowledge of the philosophies, shows a want of understanding as regards Philosophy; for such propositions are not Philosophy, nor do they give expression to it. Philosophy is quite the reverse of this immediacy of a proposition, because in that the very knowledge that is essential is not taken into account; hence such men see everything in a philosophy excepting Philosophy itself, and this is overlooked. However different the philosophic systems may be, they are not as different as white and sweet, green and rough; for they agree in the fact that they are philosophies, and this is what is overlooked. But as regards the difference in philosophies, we must likewise remark upon this immediate validity accorded to them, and upon the form, that the essence of Philosophy is expressed in an immediate manner. As regards this ‘is’ the trope undoubtedly does its work, for all tropes proceed against the ‘is,’ but the truth is all the time not this dry ‘is,’ but genuine process. The relative difference in philosophies is, in their mutual attitude towards one another (see the fifth trope), always to be comprehended as a connection, and therefore not as an ‘is.’

c. The third trope turns on the difference in the constitution of the organs of sense as related to one another; e.g. in a picture something appears raised to the eye but not to the touch, to which it is smooth, &c. This is, properly speaking, a subordinate trope, for in fact a determination such as this coming through some sense, does not constitute the truth of the thing, what it is in itself. The consciousness is required that the unthinking description which ascribes existence to blue, square, &c., one after the other, does not exhaust and express the Being of the thing; they are only predicates which do not express the thing as subject. It is always important to keep in mind that the different senses grasp the same thing in contradictory ways, for by this the nullity of sensuous certainty is revealed.

d. The fourth trope deals with the diversitude of circumstances in the subject, in reference to its condition, the changes taking place in it, which must prevent our making an assertion respecting any particular thing. The same thing manifests itself differently to the same man, according as he, for instance, is at rest or moving, asleep or awake, moved by hatred or love, sober or drunk, young or old, &c. In the diversitude of these circumstances very different judgments are passed regarding one and the same object, hence we must not talk of anything as being more than a manifestation.

e. The fifth trope relates to the different positions, distances and places, for from every different standpoint the object appears to be different. In respect to position, a long passage appears to the man who stands at the one end to taper to a point at the other; but if he goes there he finds it to be of the same breadth at that end as it was at the other. Distance is likewise, properly speaking, a difference in the greatness and smallness of objects. In respect to place, the light in a lantern is quite feeble in the sunshine, and yet in darkness it shines quite brightly. Pigeons’ necks, regarded from different points of view, shimmer quite differently. In regard to motion in particular very different views prevail. The best known example of such is found in the course of the sun round the earth, or the earth round the sun. As the earth is said to go round the sun, even though the opposite appears to be the case, the former assertion is based on reasons. This example does not, however, come in here, but this trope will show that because one sensuous feeling contradicts another, existence is not expressed in it.

f. The sixth trope is taken from intermixture, because nothing comes within the scope of the sense alone and isolated, but only as mingled with something else; this admixture with something else, however, causes change, just as scents are stronger in the sunshine than in cold air, &c. Further, through the subject himself, this admixture comes in; the eyes consist of various tunics and humours, the ear has different passages, &c., consequently they cannot allow sensations—the light or the voice—to come to us in their purity, for the sensuous element comes to us first of all modified by these tunics of the eye and likewise by the passages of the ear. But if we are to express ourselves in this particular manner, the direct opposite might likewise be maintained, that the sensuous element there present is simply purified; the apprehending ear, for example, again purifies the voice that comes in bodily form from a soul.

g. The seventh trope is the cohesion, the size or quantity of things, through which they appear different; for instance, we see how glass is transparent, but loses this transparency when it is pounded, and thus has its cohesion altered. Shavings of goat’s-horn appear to be white, but the whole piece looks black; or Carrara marble ground into powder looks white, though the whole piece is yellow. The same holds good as regards quantity. A moderate portion of wine fortifies and exhilarates, a large quantity of it destroys the body, and the case is similar with drugs. If the quantity is not to be spoken of as the substance, it is still an abstraction that quantity and combination are matters of indifference as regards quality and disintegration; the change of quantity likewise changes the quality.

h. The eighth trope arises from the relativity of things, and is thus the universal trope of relationship. This relativity of everything existent and thought is a more inward, real determinateness, and all the tropes already mentioned really aim at it. “According to this trope,” says Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, §§ 135, 136), “we conclude that since everything is in relation to something, we must withhold our judgment as to what it is on its own account and in its nature. But it must be remarked that we here make use of ‘is’ in the sense of appearance only. Relationship is used in two respects: first in relation to the judging subject,” and this difference we saw in the previous tropes, “and in the second place in relation to the object which is to be judged, like right and left.” Sextus, in the passage above (§§ 137, 140), argues as follows: “As regards what is set forth on its own account and separate from others, is it distinguished from the mere relative or not? If it were not different from it, it would itself be a relative. If it is different, it again is a relative. That is to say, what is different is related to something, for it is set forth in relation to that from which it is distinguished.” Relativity, generally, is present in what is absolutely predicated, for relationship is a relationship in itself and not to another. Relationship contains opposition: what is in relation to another is on the one hand independent on its own account, but on the other, because it is in relationship, it is likewise not independent. For if anything is only in relation to something else, the other likewise belongs to it; it is thus not on its own account. But if its other already belongs to it, its non-being also already belongs to it, and it is a contradictory as soon as it is not without its other. “But because we cannot separate the relative from its other, we likewise do not know what it is on its own account and in its nature, and we must consequently suspend our judgment.”

i. The ninth trope is the more or less frequent occurrence of things, which likewise alters one’s judgment upon the things. What happens seldom is more highly esteemed than what comes to pass frequently; and custom brings about the fact that one judges in this way and the other in that way. Custom is thus made a circumstance which also permits us to say that things appear so and so to us, but not universally and generally that they are so. When men say of any particular things that “this is so,” circumstances may be instanced in which the opposite predicate is applicable to them also. If, for example, we remain at the abstraction of the man, does it really signify whether or not we have a prince?—No. States?—No. A republic?—No, and so on, for they are here and not there.

k. The tenth trope mainly concerns ethics and is related to manners, customs and laws. What is moral and legal is likewise not such; for what is here considered to be right is elsewhere held to be wrong. The attitude of Scepticism in this regard is to show that the opposite of what is maintained as valid law holds equally good. As regards the ordinary understanding respecting the validity of this and that maxim, e.g. that the son has to pay the debts of his father, the ultimate and indeed only ground lies in its being said that this is true in its immediacy, for it holds good as law or custom. As against this the Sceptics likewise prove the opposite, saying for instance, that the son has, indeed, to undertake the debts of the father by the law of Rhodes; but in Rome he does not require to do so, if he has renounced his claim on the paternal goods. As in the existence of what is determined, which is held to be true because it is, the opposite is shown to exist; so in the case of laws, if their ground is that they are in force, their opposite can be demonstrated. The natural man has no consciousness of the presence of opposites; he lives quite unconsciously in his own particular way, in conformity with the morality of his town, without ever having reflected on the fact that he practises this morality. If he then comes into a foreign land, he is much surprised, for through encountering the opposite he for the first time experiences the fact that he has these customs, and he immediately arrives at uncertainty as to whether his point of view or the opposite is wrong. For the opposite of what held good to him holds equally good, and he does not possess any further ground for his practice; so that since the one holds good equally with the other, neither holds good.

We now see in these modes that, properly speaking, they are not logical modes at all, nor have they to do with the Notion, for they proceed directly against empiricism. Something is by immediate certainty given out as being true, the opposite of this last is from some other point of view demonstrated to be equally true, and thus its other-being is set forth as valid. The different modes in which the non-validity of the first and the validity of the other-being relate to one another, are ranged under the above heads. If we now classify these ten tropes in conformity with the plan indicated above by Sextus (p. 347), we find in the first four tropes the dissimilarity of the object to depend on the judging subject, because that which judges is either the animal or the man or one of his senses or particular dispositions in him. Or the dissimilarity depends on the object, and here we come to the seventh and tenth tropes, since first the amount makes a thing into something quite different, and then the code of morals in different places makes itself the only absolute, excluding and prohibiting any other. The fifth, sixth, eighth and ninth tropes finally deal with a union of both sides, or these all together contain the relationship; this is a demonstration that the object does not present itself in itself, but in relation to something else.

From content and form we see in these modes their early origin; for the content, which has only to deal with Being, shows its change only, takes up only the variability of its manifestation, without showing its contradiction in itself, i.e. in its Notion. But in form they show an unpractised thought, which does not yet bring the whole of these examples under their universal points of view, as is done by Sextus, or which places the universal, relativity, alongside of its particular modes. On account of their dulness we are not accustomed to lay great stress on such methods, nor esteem them of any value; but, in fact, as against the dogmatism of the common human understanding they are quite valid. This last says directly, “This is so because it is so,” taking experience as authority. Now through these modes this understanding will be shown that its belief has contingencies and differences within it, which at one time present a thing in this way and at another time in that way; and thereby it will be made aware that it itself, or another subject, with equal immediacy and on the same ground (on none at all), says: “It is not so, for it really is the opposite,” Thus the signification of these tropes has still its value. Should faith or right be founded on a feeling, this feeling is in me, and then others may say: “It is not in me.” If one person’s tastes are to be accepted as authoritative, it is not difficult to demonstrate that another person’s tastes are utterly opposite, but Being is thereby degraded into seeming, for in every assurance such as that, the opposite holds equally good.

2. THE LATER TROPES.

The five other sceptical tropes have an entirely different character, and it is at once evident that they indicate quite another point of view and degree of culture as regards philosophic thought; for they pertain more to thinking reflection, and contain the dialectic which the determinate Notion has within it. Sextus Empiricus sets them forth as follows:—

a. The first trope is the diversitude in opinions (ἀπὸ τῆς διαφωνίας), and that not among animals and men, but expressly among philosophers; of this matter we have just spoken above (pp. 349, 350). Sextus, and an Epicurean quoted by Cicero (Vol. I. p. 16), adduce the manifold nature of dogmas, and from this the conclusion is drawn that the one has just as much support as the other. Philosophers and others still make copious use of this sceptical trope, which is consequently in great favour: on account of the diversitude in philosophies, they say, Philosophy has no value, and truth is unattainable because men have thought about it in ways so contradictory. This diversitude in philosophic opinion is said to be an invincible weapon against Philosophy; but the category of difference is very barren, and we have said in the introduction (Vol. I. pp. 17-19) how it is to be understood. The Idea of Philosophy is to all philosophers one and the same, even if they themselves are not aware of it; but those who speak so much of this diversity know as little about it. The true difference is not a substantial one, but a difference in the different stages of development; and if the difference implies a one-sided view, as it does with the Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics, in their totality undoubtedly we first reach truth.

b. A very important trope is that of failing into an infinite progression (ἡ εἰς ἄπειρον ἔκπτωσις); by it the Sceptics show that the reason which is brought forward for an assertion itself again requires a reason, and this again another, and so on into infinitude; from this suspension of judgment thus likewise follows, for there is nothing which can furnish a solid foundation. Consequently no permanent ground can be pointed out, for each continues to press further and further back, and yet finally a cessation must be made. In more recent times many have plumed themselves on this trope, and, in fact, it is as regards the understanding and the so-called syllogism (supra, pp. 222, 223), a trope of great force. For if deduction from reasons is made the power of knowledge, we must, on the other hand, remember that by so doing we have premises which are quite ungrounded.

c. The trope of Relationship, the relativity of determinations (ὀ ἀπὸ τοῦ πρός τι), has already been found among those mentioned above (p. 353). It is that what is maintained shows itself as it appears, partly merely in relation to the judging subject and partly to other things, but not as it is in itself by nature.

d. The fourth trope is that of Pre-supposition (ὀ ἐξ ὑποθέσεως): “When the dogmatists see that they are thrown back into the infinite, they put forward something as principle which they do not prove, but wish to have conceded to them simply and without proof:” that is an axiom. If the dogmatist has the right to pre-suppose an axiom as unproved, the sceptic has equally the right, or, if we choose to say so, equally no right, to pre-suppose the opposite as unproved. One is as good as the other. Thus all definitions are pre-suppositions. For instance, Spinoza pre-supposes definitions of the infinite, of substance, of attribute, &c.; and the rest follows consistently from them. Nowadays men prefer to give assurances and speak of facts of consciousness.

e. The last trope is that of Reciprocity (διάλληλος), or proof in a circle. “That which is dealt with is grounded on something which itself again requires something else as its ground; now that which has been said to be proved by it is used for this purpose, so that each is proved through the other.” When we would avoid infinite progression and the making of pre-suppositions, we use again that which was proved to prove its own proof. To the question, “What is the ground of the phenomenon?” the reply is “Power,” but this is itself merely deduced from the moments of the phenomenon.

Now Sextus shows (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 15, §§ 169-177) in the following way that, speaking generally, all sceptical investigations pass into these five modes of reasoning; and from this it is likewise clear that Scepticism is not really a reasoning against anything from reasons which can be found, which quick-wittedness discovers in the particular object, but that it has a profound knowledge of the categories. (α) “The object before us is either one felt” (according to Epicurus), “or one thought” (according to the Stoics). “But however it may be determined, there always is a difference of opinion respecting it,” and specially of sophic opinions. This is the first trope. “For some believe what is felt and others what is thought to be alone the truth,” i.e. the criterion; “others, however, again accept partly what is thought and partly what is felt.” There consequently is a contradiction present here. “Now is it possible to harmonize this contradiction or not? If not, we must withhold our judgment. But if it is to be solved, the question is, ‘How shall we decide?’” What is to contain the criterion, the standard, the implicit? “Is what is felt to be judged by what is felt, or by what is thought?” (β) Either side, individually considered as the implicit, passes, according to the Sceptics, into the infinite; but this is a description which must necessarily be proved on its own account. “If what is felt is to be judged by what is felt, it is allowed (since feeling is in question) that this sensation requires another sensation as its reason;” for the conviction of its truth is not without contradiction. “But if that which constitutes the reason is again a feeling, that which is said to be a reason must have a reason just as much; thus we go on into infinitude”—and here we have the second trope. The case is, however, similar if what is thought is the criterion, or if the implicit is made to rest on it. “If to what is thought is given the power of judging what is felt, this likewise, since it is that respecting which no harmony prevails, requires another as its ground. This reason is, however, something thought likewise, and it again requires a reason; thus this, too, passes into the infinite.” From effect men thus reach cause; nevertheless this too is not original, but is itself an effect; and so on. But if men thus progress into infinitude, they have no first original ground to stand on, for what is accepted as first cause is itself merely effect; and since they merely progress continually, it is implied that no ultimate is posited. The false belief that this progression is a true category, is also to be found in Kant and Fichte; but there is really no true ultimate, or, what is the same, no true first. The understanding represents infinite progression as something great; but its contradiction is that men speak of a first cause and it is then shown that it is only an effect. Men only attain to the contradiction and constant repetition of the same, but not to the solution of it, and consequently to the true prius. (γ) But should this endless progression not satisfy us—which the Sceptics indeed perceived—and therefore have to be put a stop to, this may happen by what is or what is felt having its foundation in thought, and, on the other hand, by likewise taking for the foundation of thought that which is felt. In this way each would be founded without there having been a progression into infinitude; but then that which founds would also be that which is founded, and there would merely be a passing from one to the other. Thus, in the third place, this falls into the trope of Reciprocity, in which, however, there is no more than there was before any true foundation. For in it each merely exists through the other, neither is really set forth absolutely, but each is the implicit only for the other, and this is self-abrogation. (δ) But if this is avoided by an unproved axiom which is taken as an implicit fact, a first and absolute ground, this way of arguing falls into the mode of Pre-supposition—the fourth trope. But if an assumption such as this were to be allowed, it would also be legitimate for anyone to assume the contrary. Thus against the absolute assertion of idealism, “The Absolute is the I,” it is with equal force maintained that “The Absolute is existence.” The one man says in the immediate certainty of himself: “I am absolute to myself;” another man likewise in certainty of himself says, “It is absolutely certain to me that things exist.” Idealism did not prove the former, nor did it destroy the latter; it takes its stand alongside of it, and only bases its assertions on its own principle. Everything, however, then, comes round to this, that because the ‘I’ is absolute, the ‘not-I’ cannot be absolute. On the other hand it may be said as justly: “Because the thing is absolute, the ‘I’ cannot be absolute.” If it is legitimate, Sextus further says, immediately to pre-suppose something as unproved, it is absurd to pre-suppose anything else as proof of that on whose behalf it is pre-supposed; we only require to posit straightway the implicit existence of that which is in question. But as it is absurd to do so, so also is the other absurd. Men set to work in the finite sciences in a similar way. But when, as in a dogmatism like this, a man asserts his right of pre-supposing something, every other man has equally the right of pre-supposing something. Consequently the modern immediate revelation of the subject now appears. It does no good for any man to affirm, for example, that he finds in his consciousness that God exists; since anyone has the right to say that he finds in his consciousness that God does not exist. In modern times men have not got very far with this immediate knowledge—perhaps not further than the ancients, (ε) In the fifth place everything perceived has, according to the trope of Relationship, a relation to something else, to what perceives; its Notion is just that of being for another. The same holds good with what is thought; as the universal object of thought it likewise has the form of being something for another.

If we sum this up in a general way, the determinate, whether it is existent or thought, is (α) really, as determinate, the negative of another, i.e. it is related to another and exists for the same, and is thus in relationship; in this everything is really exhausted. (β) In this relationship to another this last, posited as its universality, is its reason; but this reason, as opposed to that which is proved, is itself a determinate, and consequently has its reality only in what is proved. And for the reason that I really again consider this universal as a determinate, it is conditioned by another like the one that goes before, and so on into infinity. (γ) In order that this determinate for which, as in consciousness, the other is, should have existence, this other must exist, for in this it has its reality; and because this its object is likewise for another, they mutually condition each other and are mediated through one another, neither being self-existent. And if the universal as the basis has its reality in the existent, and this existent its reality in the universal, this forms the Reciprocity whereby what in themselves are opposites mutually establish one another. (δ) But what is implicit is something which is not mediated through another; as the immediate, that is because it is, it is, however, an Hypothesis. (ε) Now if this determinate is taken as pre-supposed, so also may another be. Or we might say more shortly that the deficiency in all metaphysics of the understanding lies partly in (α) the Demonstration, by which it falls into the infinite; and partly in (β) the Hypotheses, which constitute an immediate knowledge.

These tropes thus form an effective weapon against the philosophy of the ordinary understanding, and the Sceptics directed them with great acuteness, sometimes against the common acceptation of things, and sometimes against principles of philosophic reflection. These sceptical tropes, in fact, concern that which is called a dogmatic philosophy—not in the sense of its having a positive content, but as asserting something determinate as the absolute; and in accordance with its nature, such a philosophy must display itself in all these forms. To the Sceptics, the Notion of dogmatic philosophy is in effect that something is asserted as the implicit; it is thus opposed to idealism by the fact of its maintaining that an existence is the absolute. But there is a misunderstanding or a formal understanding in considering that all philosophy that is not Scepticism is Dogmatism. Dogmatism, as the Sceptics quite correctly describe it, consists in the assertion that something determinate, such as ‘I’ or ‘Being,’ ‘Thought’ or ‘Sensation,’ is the truth. In the talk about idealism, to which dogmatism has been opposed, just as many mistakes have been made, and misunderstandings taken place. To the criticism which knows no implicit, nothing absolute, all knowledge of implicit existence as such is held to be dogmatism, while it is the most wanton dogmatism of all, because it maintains that the ‘I,’ the unity of self-consciousness, is opposed to Being, is in and for itself, and that the implicit in the outside world is likewise so, and therefore that the two absolutely cannot come together. By idealism that is likewise held to be dogmatism in which, as is the case in Plato and Spinoza, the absolute has been made the unity of self-consciousness and existence, and not self-consciousness opposed to existence. Speculative philosophy thus, indeed, asserts, but does not assert a determinate; or it cannot express its truth in the simple form of a proposition, although Philosophy is often falsely understood as pre-supposing an original principle from which all others are to be deduced. But though its principle can be given the form of a proposition, to the Idea what pertains to the proposition as such is not essential, and the content is of such a nature that it really abrogates this immediate existence, as we find with the Academicians. As a matter of fact, that which is now called a proposition, absolutely requires a mediation or a ground; for it is an immediate determinate that has another proposition in opposition to it, which last is again of a similar nature, and so on into infinitude. Consequently, each, as being a proposition, is the union of two moments between which there is an inherent difference, and whose union has to be mediated. Now dogmatic philosophy, which has this way of representing one principle in a determinate proposition as a fundamental principle, believes that it is therefore universal, and that the other is in subordination to it. And undoubtedly this is so. But at the same time, this its determinateness rests in the fact that it is only universal; hence such a principle is always conditioned, and consequently contains within it a destructive dialectic.

As against all these dogmatic philosophies, such criticism and idealism not excepted, the sceptical tropes possess the negative capacity of demonstrating that what the former maintain to be the implicit is not really so. For implicitude such as this is a determinate, and cannot resist negativity, its abrogation. To Scepticism is due the honour of having obtained this knowledge of the negative, and of having so definitely thought out the forms of negativity. Scepticism does not operate by bringing forward what is called a difficulty, a possibility of representing the matter otherwise; that would merely indicate some sort of fancy which is contingent as regards this asserted knowledge. Scepticism is not an empiric matter such as this, for it contains a scientific aim, its tropes turn on the Notion, the very essence of determinateness, and are exhaustive as regards the determinate. In these moments Scepticism desires to assert itself, and the Sceptic therein recognizes the fancied greatness of his individuality; these tropes prove a more cultivated dialectic knowledge in the process of argumentation than is found in ordinary logic, the logic of the Stoics, or the canon of Epicurus. These tropes are necessary contradictions into which the understanding falls; even in our time progression into infinitude and pre-supposition (immediate knowledge) are particularly common (supra, p. 363).

Now, speaking generally, this is the method of Scepticism, and it is most important. Because the sceptical conscience demonstrates that in all that is immediately accepted there is nothing secure and absolute, the Sceptics have taken in hand all particular determinations of the individual sciences, and have shown that they are not fixed. The further details of this application to the different sciences do not concern us here: this far-seeing power of abstraction is also requisite in order to recognize these determinations of negation or of opposition everywhere present in all concrete matter, and in all that is thought, and to find in this determinate its limits. Sextus, for example, takes up the individual sciences concretely, thereby demonstrating much capacity for abstraction, and he shows in all their determinations the opposite of themselves. Thus he sets the definitions of mathematics against one another, and that not externally, but as they are in themselves; he lays hold of the fact (adv. Math. III. 20-22) that there is said to be a point, space, line, surface, one, &c. We unquestioningly allow the point to rank as a simple unit in space, according to which it has no dimension; but if it has no dimension, it is not in space, and therefore is no longer a point. On the one hand it is the negation of space, and, on the other, inasmuch as it is the limit of space, it touches space. Thus this negation of space participates in space, itself occupies space, and thus it is in itself null, but at the same time it is also in itself a dialectic. Scepticism has thus also treated of ideas which are, properly speaking, speculative, and demonstrated their importance; for the demonstration of the contradiction in the finite is an essential point in the speculatively philosophic method.

The two formal moments in this sceptical culture are firstly the power of consciousness to go back from itself, and to take as its object the whole that is present, itself and its operation included. The second moment is to grasp the form in which a proposition, with whose content our consciousness is in any way occupied, exists. An undeveloped consciousness, on the other hand, usually knows nothing of what is present in addition to the content. For instance, in the judgment “This thing is one,” attention is paid only to the one and the thing, and not to the circumstance that here something, a determinate, is related to the one. But this relation is the essential, and the form of the determinate; it is that whereby this house which is an individual, makes itself one with the universal that is different from it. It is this logical element, i.e. the essential element, that Scepticism brings to consciousness, and on this it depends; an example of this is number, the one, as the hypothetical basis of arithmetic. Scepticism does not attempt to give the thing, nor does it dispute as to whether it is thus or thus, but whether the thing itself is something; it grasps the essence of what is expressed, and lays hold of the whole principle of the assertion. As to God, for example, the Sceptics do not inquire whether He has such and such qualities, but turn to what is most inward, to what lies at the ground of this conception, and they ask whether this has reality. “Since we do not know the reality of God,” says Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. III. c. I, § 4), “we shall not be able to know and perceive His qualities.” Likewise in the preceding books (II. c. 4, sqq.), inquiry is made as to whether the criterion of truth as fixed by the understanding is anything, whether we know the thing in itself, or whether the ‘I’ is to itself the only absolute certainty. This is the way to penetrate to reality.

In these ways the operations of Scepticism are undoubtedly directed against the finite. But however much force these moments of its negative dialectic may have against the properly-speaking dogmatic knowledge of the understanding, its attacks against the true infinite of the speculative Idea are most feeble and unsatisfactory. For this last is in its nature nothing finite or determinate, it has not the one-sided character which pertains to the proposition, for it has the absolute negative in itself; in itself it is round, it contains this determinate and its opposite in their ideality in itself. In so far as this Idea, as the unity of these opposites, is itself again outwardly a determinate, it stands exposed to the power of the negative; indeed its nature and reality is just to move continually on, so that as determinate it again places itself in unity with the determinates opposed to it, and thus organizes itself into a whole whose starting-point again coincides with the final result. This identity is quite different from that of the understanding; the object as concrete in itself, is, at the same time, opposed to itself; but the dialectic solution of this finite and other is likewise already contained in the speculative, without Scepticism having first had to demonstrate this; for the rational, as comprehended, does, as regards the determinate, just what Scepticism tries to do. However, if Scepticism attempts to deal with this properly speculative element, it can in no way lay hold of it, nor make any progress except by doing violence to the speculative itself; thus the method of its procedure against the rational is this, that it makes the latter into a determinate, and always first of all introduces into it a finite thought-determination or idea of relationship to which it adheres, but which is not really in the infinite at all; and then it argues against the same. That is to say it comprehends it falsely and then proceeds to contradict it. Or it first of all gives the infinite the itch in order to be able to scratch it. The Scepticism of modern times, with which for crudity of comprehension and false teaching the old cannot compare, is specially noteworthy in this respect. Even now what is speculative is transformed into something crude; it is possible to remain faithful to the letter, and yet to pervert the whole matter, because the identity of the determinate has been carried over to the speculative. What here appears to be most natural and impartial is to have an investigation made of what the principle of a speculative philosophy is; its essential nature seems to be expressed thereby, and nothing is apparently added or imputed to it, nor does any change appear to be effected in it. Now, here, according to the conception of the non-speculative sciences, it is placed in this dilemma: the principle is either an unproved hypothesis or demands a proof which in turn implies the principle. The proof that is demanded of this principle itself pre-supposes something else, such as the logical laws of proof; these rules of logic are, however, themselves propositions such as required to be proved; and so it goes on into infinitude, if an absolute hypothesis to which another can be opposed is not made (supra, p. 362). But these forms of proposition, of consecutive proof, &c., do not in this form apply to what is speculative (supra, p. 364) as though the proposition were before us here, and the proof were something separate from it there; for in this case the proof comes within the proposition. The Notion is a self-movement, and not, as in a proposition, a desire to rest; nor is it true that the proof brings forward another ground or middle term and is another movement; for it has this movement in itself.

Sextus Empiricus (adv. Math. VII., 310-312), for example, thus reaches the speculative Idea regarding reason, which, as the thought of thought, comprehends itself, and is thus in its freedom at home with itself. We saw this (pp. 147-151) with Aristotle. In order to refute this idea, Sextus argues in the following way: “The reason that comprehends is either the whole or it is only a part.” But to know the speculative it is requisite that there should be, besides the ‘either ... or,’ a third; this last is ‘both ... and’ and ‘neither ... nor.’ “If reason as the comprehending is the whole, nothing else remains to be comprehended. If the comprehending reason is, however, only a part which comprehends itself, this part again, as that which comprehends, either is the whole (and in that case again nothing at all remains to be comprehended), or else, supposing what comprehends to be a part in the sense that what is comprehended is the other part, that which comprehends does not comprehend itself,” &c. In the first place, however, it is clear that by arguing thus nothing is shown further than the fact that here Scepticism in the first place brings into the relationship of thought thinking about thought, the very superficial category of the relationship of the whole and the parts, as understood by the ordinary understanding, which last is not found in that Idea, although as regards finite things the whole is simply composed of all the parts, and these parts constitute the whole, the parts and the whole being consequently identical. But the relationship of whole and part is not a relationship of reason to itself, being much too unimportant, and quite unworthy of being brought into the speculative Idea. In the second place Scepticism is wrong in allowing this relationship to hold good immediately, as it does in the ordinary and arid conception, where we make no objection to it. When reflection speaks of a whole, there is for it beyond this nothing else remaining. But the whole is just the being opposed to itself. On the one hand it is as whole simply identical with its parts, and, on the other hand, the parts are identical with the whole, since they together constitute the whole. The self-comprehension of reason is just like the comprehension by the whole of all its parts, if it is taken in its real speculative significance; and only in this sense could this relationship be dealt with here. But in the sense implied by Sextus, that there is nothing except the whole, the two sides, the whole and the parts, remain in mutual, isolated opposition; in the region of speculation the two indeed are different, but they are likewise not different, for the difference is ideal. Outside of the whole there thus undoubtedly remains another, namely itself as the manifold of its parts. The whole argument thus rests upon the fact that a foreign determination is first of all brought within the Idea, and then arguments against the Idea are brought forward, after it has been thus corrupted by the isolation of a one-sided determination unaccompanied by the other moment of the determination. The case is similar when it is said; “Objectivity and subjectivity are different, and thus their unity cannot be expressed.” It is indeed maintained that the words are literally adhered to; but even as contained in these words, the determination is one-sided, and the other also pertains to it. Hence this difference is not what remains good, but what has to be abrogated.

We may perhaps have said enough about the scientific nature of Scepticism, and we have concluded therewith the second section of Greek philosophy. The general point of view adopted by self-consciousness in this second period, the attainment of the freedom of self-consciousness through thought, is common to all these philosophies. In Scepticism we now find that reason has got so far that all that is objective, whether of Being or of the universal, has disappeared for self-consciousness. The abyss of the self-consciousness of pure thought has swallowed up everything, and made entirely clear the basis of thought. It not only has comprehended thought and outside of it a universe in its entirety, but the result, positively expressed, is that self-consciousness itself is reality. External objectivity is not an objective existence nor a universal thought; for it merely is the fact that the individual consciousness exists, and that it is universal. But though for us there is an object, yet this is for it no object, and thus it still has itself the mode of objectivity. Scepticism deduces no result, nor does it express its negation as anything positive. But the positive is in no way different from the simple; or if Scepticism aims at the disappearance of all that is universal, its condition, as immovability of spirit, is itself in fact this universal, simple, self-identical—but a universality (or a Being) which is the universality of the individual consciousness. Sceptical self-consciousness, however, is this divided consciousness to which on the one hand motion is a confusion of its content; it is this movement which annuls for itself all things, in which what is offered to it is quite contingent and indifferent; it acts according to laws which are not held by it to be true, and is a perfectly empiric existence. On another side its simple thought is the immovability of self-identity, but its reality, its unity with itself is something that is perfectly empty, and the actual filling in is any content that one chooses. As this simplicity, and at the same time pure confusion, Scepticism is in fact the wholly self-abrogating contradiction. For in it the mind has got so far as to immerse itself in itself as that which thinks; now it can comprehend itself in the consciousness of its infinitude as the ultimate. In this way Scepticism flourishes in the Roman world, because, as we saw (p. 281), in this external, dead abstraction of the Roman principle (in the principle of Republicanism and imperial Despotism) the spirit has flown from an existence here and now, that could give it no satisfaction, into intellectuality. Then because here the mind can only seek reconciliation and eudæmonism inwardly through cultured thought, and the whole aim of the world is merely the satisfaction of the individual, good can only be brought forth as individual work in each particular case. Under the Roman emperors we certainly find famous men, principally Stoics, such as Marcus Aurelius and others; they, however, only considered the satisfaction of their individual selves, and did not attain to the thought of giving rationality to actuality through institutions, laws and constitutions. This solitude of mind within itself is then truly Philosophy; but the thought is abstractly at home with itself as dead rigidity, and as to outward things it is passive. If it moves it only moves while bearing with it a contempt of all distinctions. Scepticism thus belongs to the decay both of Philosophy and of the world.

The stage next reached by self-consciousness is that it receives a consciousness respecting that which it has thus become, or its essential nature becomes its object. Self-consciousness is to itself simple essence; there is for it no longer any other reality than this, which its self-consciousness is. In Scepticism this reality is not yet an object to it, for to it its object is merely confusion. Because it is consciousness, something is for it; in this opposition only the vanishing content is for the sceptical consciousness, without its having been comprehended in its simple permanence. Its truth, however, is its immersion in self-consciousness, and the fact of self-consciousness becoming an object to itself. Thus reality has indeed the form of a universal in existence or in thought, but in this its self-consciousness is really not a foreign thing as it is in Scepticism. In the first place it is not simple as immediate and merely existent, a complete ‘other,’ as when we speak of the soul being simple; for this last is the simple negative that turns back out of movement, out of difference, as the universal, into itself. In the second place this universal power that expresses that “I am at home with myself,” has likewise the significance of the Being, which, as objective reality, has a permanence for consciousness, and does not merely, as with the Sceptics, disappear; for reason in it alone knows how to possess and to find itself. This inwardness of mind at home with itself has built in itself an ideal world, has laid the foundation and groundwork of the intellectual world, of a kingdom of God which has come down into actuality and is in unity with it, and this is the standpoint of the Alexandrian philosophy.