in the Idea of the self-changing and variable principle whose universal
is matter. The eternal world has a likeness in the world which belongs
to time, but opposed to this there is a second world where change
really dwells. The ‘same’ and the ‘other’ are the most abstract opposes
that we hitherto have had. The eternal world as posited in time has
thus two forms—the form of similarity and the form of differentiality,
of variability. The three moments as they appear in the last sphere,
are, in the first place, simple essence which is begotten, which has
arisen, or determinate matter; secondly the place in which it is
begotten, and thirdly that in which what is begotten has its pattern.
Plato gives them thus: “Essence (ὄν), place, and generation.” We thus
have the conclusion in which space is the mean between individual
generation and the universal. If we now oppose this principle to time
in its negativity, the mean is this principle of the ‘other’ as the
universal principle—“a receiving medium like a mother”—an essence which
contains everything, gives to everything an independent subsistence and
the power to do as is desired. This principle is destitute of form, yet
capable of receiving all forms, the universal principle of all that
appears different; it is the false passive matter that we understand
when we speak of it—the relative substantial, existence generally, but
external existence here, and only abstract Being-for-self. Form is in
our reflection distinguished from it, and this, Plato tells us, first
comes into existence through the mother. In this principle we have
what we call the phenomenal, for matter is just this subsistence of
individual generation, in which division is posited. But what appears
herein is not to be posited as the individual of earthly existence, but
is to be apprehended as the universal in such determinateness. Since
matter, as the universal, is the principle of all that is individual,
Plato in the first place reminds us that we cannot speak of these
sensuous things—fire, water, earth, air, &c. (which thus once more come
before us here); for hereby they are expressed as a fixed determination
which remains as such—but what remains is only their universality, or
they, as universal, are only the fiery, earthly, &c.[56]
Plato further expounds the determinate reality of these sensuous
things, or their simple determinateness. In this world of change form
is figure in space; for as in the world, which is the immediate image
of the eternal, time is the absolute principle, here the absolute
ideal principle is pure matter as such, _i.e._ the existence of space.
Space is the ideal essence of this phenomenal world, the mean which
unites positivity and negativity, but its determinations are figures.
And, indeed, of the different dimensions of space, it is surface which
must be taken as true reality, for it is the absolute mean between
the line and point in space, and in its first real limitation it
is three; similarly the triangle is first among the figures, while
the circle has no limit as such within it. Here Plato comes to the
deduction of configuration, in which the triangle forms the principle;
thus triangles form the essence of sensuous things. Hence he says, in
Pythagorean fashion, that the compounding and uniting together of
these triangles, as their Idea pertaining to the mean, constitutes
once more, according to the original number-relations, the sensuous
elements. This is the principle, but how Plato determines the figures
of the elements, and the union of the triangles, I refrain from
considering.[57]
From this point Plato passes to a system of Physics and Physiology into
which we have no intention of following him. It is to be regarded as a
first, childlike endeavour to understand sensuous phenomena in their
manifold character, but as yet it is superficial and confused. Sensuous
manifestations, such as the parts and limbs of the body, are here
taken into consideration, and an account of this is given intermingled
with thoughts which resemble our formal explanations, and in which the
Notion really vanishes. We have to remember the elevated nature of
the Idea, as being the main point of excellence in his explanations,
for, as far as the realization of the same is concerned, Plato merely
felt and expressed it to be a necessity. Speculative thought is often
recognizable, but, for the most part, consideration is directed to
quite external modes of explanation, such as that of end. The method
of treating Physics is a different one from ours, for while with Plato
empirical knowledge is still deficient, in modern Physics, on the other
hand, the deficiency is found in the Idea. Plato, although he does
not seem to conform to our theory of Physics, ignoring as it does the
theory of life, and though he proceeds to talk in a childlike way in
external analogies, yet in certain cases gives utterance to very deep
perceptions, which would be well worthy of our consideration if the
contemplation of nature as living had any place with our physicists.
His manner of relating the physiological to the physical would be as
interesting. Certain portions of his system contain a general element,
such as his representation of colours, and from this he goes on to
more general considerations. For when Plato begins to talk on this
subject, he says of the difficulty of distinguishing and recognizing
the individual, that in the contemplation of nature there are “two
causes to be distinguished, the one necessary and the other divine. The
divine must be sought for in all things with the view of attaining to
a blessed life” (this endeavour is an end in and for itself, and in it
we find happiness) “in as far as our nature admits, but the necessary
causes need be sought only for the sake of divine things, considering
that without these necessary causes” (as conditions of knowledge) “we
cannot know them.” Contemplation in accordance with necessity is the
external contemplation of objects, their connection, relation, &c.
“Of the divine, God Himself was the creator,” the divine belongs to
that first eternal world—not as to one beyond, but to one now present.
“But the creation and disposition of the mortal He committed to His
offspring (γεννήμασι).” This is a simple way of passing from the
divine to the finite and earthly. “Now they, imitating the divine,
because they had received the immortal principle of a soul, fashioned
a mortal body, and placed in this a soul of another nature, which was
mortal. This mortal nature was subject to violent and irresistible
affections—the first of these was pleasure, the greatest incitement to
evil, and then pain which is the deterrent (φυγάς) from doing good;
also rashness (θάῤῥος) and fear, two foolish counsellors; anger, hope,
&c. These sensations all belong to the mortal soul. And that the
divine might not be polluted more than necessary, the subordinate gods
separated this mortal nature from the seat of the divine, and gave it
a different habitation in another part of the body, placing the neck
so as to be the isthmus and boundary between head and breast.” The
sensations, affections, &c., dwell in the breast or in the heart (we
place that which is immortal in the heart); the spiritual is in the
head. But in order to make the former as perfect as might be, “they
placed,” for instance, “as a supporter to the heart which was burnt
with passion, the lung, soft and bloodless, and which had within it
hollows like the pores of a sponge, in order that, receiving the breath
and drink, it might cool the heart and allow of refreshment and an
alleviation of the heat.”[58]
What Plato says of the liver is specially worthy of notice. “Since the
irrational part of the soul which desires eating and drinking does not
listen to reason, God made the liver so that the soul might be inspired
with terror by the power of thought which originates from reason, and
which descends upon the liver as on a mirror, receiving upon it figures
and giving back images. But if this part of the soul is once more
assuaged, in sleep it participates in visions. For the authors of our
being, remembering the command of their father to make the human race
as good as they could, thus ordered our inferior parts in order that
they also might obtain a measure of truth, and placed the oracle in
them.” Plato thus ascribes divination to the irrational, corporeal part
of man, and although it is often thought that revelation, &c., is by
Plato ascribed to reason, this is a false idea; he says that there is a
reason, but in irrationality. “Herein we have a conclusive proof that
God has given the art of divination to the irrationality of man, for
no man when in his wits, attains prophetic truth and inspiration, but
when he receives the inspiration either his intelligence is enthralled
by sleep or he is demented by some distemper or possession.” Thus Plato
makes divination of a lower grade than conscious knowledge. “And when
he has recovered his senses he has to remember and explain what he has
received, for while he is demented, he cannot judge of it. The ancient
saying is therefore very true, that only a man who has his wits can act
or judge about himself or his own affairs.”[59] Plato is called the
patron saint of mere possession, but, according to this, the assertion
is entirely false. These are the principal points in Plato’s Philosophy
of Nature.
3. PHILOSOPHY OF MIND.
We have already dealt generally from the theoretical side with the
speculative nature of mind as yet unrealized, as well as with the
highly important differences with respect to the kinds of knowledge
(pp. 28-48). It must also be considered that we find in Plato as yet
no developed consciousness of the organization of the theoretic mind,
though certainly sensation, memory, &c., are distinguished by him from
reason; these moments of the mind are, however, neither accurately
discriminated, nor exhibited in their connection, so as to show the
necessary relations between them. The only point of interest for us
then in Plato’s philosophy of mind is his view of man’s moral nature;
and this real, practical side of consciousness is Plato’s greatest
glory, and hence must now be specially dealt with by us. Its form
certainly does not suggest that Plato gave himself much trouble to
discover a supreme moral principle, as it is now called, which, for
the very reason that it is supposed to be all-embracing, has in it a
certain lack of content. Neither did he trouble himself about a natural
right, which is but a trivial abstraction foisted on to the real
practical existence, the right; but it is of man’s moral nature that he
treats in the Republic. Man’s moral nature seems to us to have little
to do with the State; to Plato, however, the reality of mind—that is,
of mind as opposed to nature—appeared in its highest truth as the
organization of a state which, as such, is essentially moral; and he
recognized that the moral nature (free will in its rationality) comes
to its right, to its reality, only in an actual nation.
We must further remark that in the Republic Plato introduces the
investigation of his subject with the object of showing what justice
(δικαιοσύνη) is. After much discussion has taken place, and several
definitions of justice have been taken into consideration only to
be rejected, Plato at last says in his simple way: “The present
investigation is very like the case of a man who is required to read
small handwriting at a distance; if it were observed that the same
letters were to be seen at a shorter distance and of a larger size,
he would certainly prefer to read first the letters where they were
written larger, and then would be able to read more easily the small
letters also. The same plan should be followed now with justice.
Justice is not only in the individual, but also in the state, and the
state is greater than the individual; justice is therefore imprinted on
states in larger characters, and is more easily recognizable.” (This is
different from what the Stoics say of the wise man.) “It is therefore
preferable to consider justice as it is to be found in the state.”[60]
By making this comparison Plato transforms the question anent justice
into an investigation of the state; it is a very simple and graceful
transition, though it seems arbitrary. It was great force of insight
that really led the ancients to the truth; and what Plato brings
forward as merely simplifying the difficulty, may, in fact, be said
to exist in the nature of the thing. For it is not convenience which
leads him to this position, but the fact that justice can be carried
out only in so far as man is a member of a state, for in the state
alone is justice present in reality and truth. Justice, not as the
understanding, but as mind in its striving to realize itself, is the
existence of freedom here and now, the actuality of the self-conscious,
intelligent existence in and at home with itself and possessing
activity—just as in property, for instance, I place my freedom in
this particular thing. But the principle of the state again is the
objective reality of justice, the reality in which the whole mind is
present and not only the knowledge of myself as this individual. For
as the free and reasonable will determines itself, there are laws of
freedom; but these laws are nothing else than state-laws, for the
Notion of the state implies the existence of a reasoning will. Thus
laws have force in the state, and are there matter of practice and of
custom; but because self-will is also there in its immediacy, they are
not only matter of custom, but must also be a force operating against
arbitrary self-will, and showing itself in the courts of justice and in
governments. Thus Plato, in order to discern the features of justice,
with the instinct of reason fixes his attention on their manner of
representation in the state.
Justice in itself is ordinarily represented by us in the form of a
natural right, right in a condition of nature; such a condition of
nature is, however, a direct moral impossibility. That which is in
itself is, by those who do not attain to the universal, held to be
something natural, as the necessary moments of the mind are held to
be innate ideas. The natural is rather what should be sublated by the
mind, and the justice of the condition of nature can only emerge as
the absolute injustice of the mind. In contrast with the state, which
is the real spirit, the spirit in its simple and as yet unrealized
Notion is the abstract implicitude; this Notion must of course precede
the construction of its reality; it is this which is conceived of
as a condition of nature. We are accustomed to take our start from
the fiction of a condition of nature, which is truly no condition of
mind, of reasonable will, but of animals among themselves: wherefore
Hobbes has justly remarked that the true state of nature is a war of
every man against his neighbour. This implicitude of the mind is at
the same time the individual man, for in the ordinary conception the
universal separates itself from the particular, as if the particular
were absolutely and in and for itself what it certainly is, and the
Universal did not make it that which it is in truth—as if this were not
its essence, but as if the individual element were the most important.
The fiction of a state of nature starts from the individuality of the
person, his free will, and his relation to other persons according
to this free will. Natural justice has thus been a term applied to
that which is justice in the individual and for the individual; and
the condition of society and of the state has been recognized only
as a medium for the individual person, who is the chief end and
object. Plato, in direct contrast with this, lays as his foundation
the substantial, the universal, and he does this in such a way that
the individual as such has this very universal as his end, and the
subject has his will, activity, life and enjoyment in the state, so
that it may be called his second nature, his habits and his customs.
This moral substance which constitutes the spirit, life and Being of
individuality, and which is its foundation, systematizes itself into a
living, organic whole, and at the same time it differentiates itself
into its members, whose activity signifies the production of the whole.
This relation of the Notion to its reality certainly did not come into
consciousness with Plato, and thus we do not find in him a philosophic
method of construction, which shows first the absolute Idea, then
the necessity, inherently existent, for its realization, and this
realization itself. The judgment that has been delivered respecting
Plato’s Republic therefore is that Plato has therein given a so-called
ideal for the constitution of a state; this has become proverbial as a
_sobriquet_, in the sense that this conception is a chimera, which may
be mentally conceived of—and in itself, as Plato describes it, it is
doubtless excellent and true—that it is also capable of being carried
out, but only on the condition that men should be of an excellence
such as may possibly be present among the dwellers in the moon, but
that it is not realizable for men like those on the earth. But since
men most be taken as they are, this ideal cannot be realized by reason
of men’s wickedness; and to frame such an ideal is therefore altogether
idle.
As to this, the first remark to be made is that in the Christian
world in general there passes current an ideal of a perfect man which
certainly cannot be carried out in the great body of a nation. We may,
perhaps, see it realized in monks or Quakers, or other similar pious
folk, but a set of melancholy specimens such as these could never
form a nation, any more than lice or parasitic plants could exist for
themselves, or otherwise than on an organic body. If such men were to
constitute a nation, there would have to be an end of this lamb-like
gentleness, this vanity which occupies itself exclusively with its
own individual self, which pets and pampers itself, and ever has the
image and consciousness of its own excellence before its eyes. For
life in the universal and for the universal demands, not that lame and
cowardly gentleness, but gentleness combined with a like measure of
energy, and which is not occupied with itself and its own sins, but
with the universal and what is to be done for it. They before whose
eyes that false ideal floats of course find men to be always compassed
with weakness and depravity, and never find that ideal realized. For
they raise into importance the veriest trifles, which no reasonable
man would give heed to; and they think such weaknesses and defects
are present even when they overlook them. But we need not esteem this
forbearance to be generosity; for it rather implies a perception on
their part that from what they call weakness and defect proceeds their
own destruction, which comes to pass from their making such defects
of importance. The man who has them is immediately through himself
absolved from them, in so far as he makes nothing of them. The crime
is a crime only when they are real to him, and his destruction is in
holding them to be something real. Such an ideal must therefore not
stand in our way, whatever be the fairness of its form, and this even
when it does not appear exactly as it does to monks and Quakers, but,
for instance, when it is the principle of renouncing sensuous things,
and abandoning energy of action, which principle must bring to nought
much that would otherwise be held of value. It is contradictory to try
to keep intact all our relationships, for in those that otherwise hold
good there always is a side where opposition is encountered. Moreover,
what I have already said regarding the relation between philosophy
and the state (p. 23 _et seq._) shows that the Platonic ideal is not
to be taken in this sense. When an ideal has truth in itself through
the Notion, it is no chimera, just because it is true, for the truth
is no chimera. Such an idea is therefore nothing idle and powerless,
but the real. It is certainly permissible to form wishes, but when
pious wishes are all that a man has in regard to the great and true,
he may be said to be godless. It is just as if we could do nothing,
because everything was so holy and inviolable, or as if we refused to
be anything definite, because all that is definite has its defects. The
true ideal is not what ought to be real, but what is real, and the only
real; if an ideal is held to be too good to exist, there must be some
fault in the ideal itself, for which reality is too good. The Platonic
Republic would thus be a chimera, not because excellence such as it
depicts is lacking to mankind, but because it, this excellence, falls
short of man’s requirements. For what is real, is rational. The point
to know, however, is what exactly is real; in common life all is real,
but there is a difference between the phenomenal world and reality. The
real has also an external existence, which displays arbitrariness and
contingency, like a tree, a house, a plant, which in nature come into
existence. What is on the surface in the moral sphere, men’s action,
involves much that is evil, and might in many ways be better; men will
ever be wicked and depraved, but this is not the Idea. If the reality
of the substance is recognized, the surface where the passions battle
must be penetrated. The temporal and transitory certainly exists,
and may cause us trouble enough, but in spite of that it is no true
reality, any more than the particularity of the subject, his wishes and
inclinations, are so.
In connection with this observation, the distinction is to be called
to mind which was drawn when we were speaking above (pp. 84, 88)
of Plato’s Philosophy of Nature: the eternal world, as God holy in
Himself, is reality, not a world above us or beyond, but the present
world looked at in its truth, and not as it meets the senses of those
who hear, see, &c. When we thus study the content of the Platonic
Idea, it will become clear that Plato has, in fact, represented Greek
morality according to its substantial mode, for it is the Greek
state-life which constitutes the true content of the Platonic Republic.
Plato is not the man to dabble in abstract theories and principles; his
truth-loving mind has recognized and represented the truth, and this
could not be anything else than the truth of the world he lived in, the
truth of the one spirit which lived in him as well as in Greece. No man
can overleap his time, the spirit of his time is his spirit also; but
the point at issue is, to recognize that spirit by its content.