The first beginning of this undertaking is found in the Religion which

is the contemplation of and faith in this principle as in an actual

existence before a knowledge of the principle has been arrived at. In

the Christian Religion this principle is found more as feeling and

idea; in it man as man is destined to everlasting bliss, and is an

object of divine grace, pity and interest, which is as much as saying

that man has an absolute and infinite value. We find it further in

that dogma revealed through Christ to men, of the unity of the divine

and human nature, according to which the subjective and the objective

Idea—man and God—are one. This, in another form, is found in the

old story of the Fall, in which the serpent did not delude man, for

God said, “Behold, Adam has become as one of us, to know good and

evil.” We have to deal with this unity of subjective principle and of

substance; it constitutes the process of Mind that this individual

one or independent existence of subject should put aside its immediate

character and bring itself forth as identical with the substantial.

Such an aim is pronounced to be the highest end attainable by man.

We see from this that religious ideas and speculation are not so far

asunder as was at first believed, and I maintain these ideas in order

that we may not be ashamed of them, seeing that we still belong to

them, and so that if we do get beyond them, we may not be ashamed of

our progenitors of the early Christian times, who held these ideas in

such high esteem.

The first principle of that Philosophy which has taken its place in

Christendom is thus found in the existence of two totalities. This

is a reduplication of substance which now, however, is characterized

by the fact that the two totalities are no longer external to one

another, but are clearly both required through their relation to one

another. If formerly Stoicism and Epicureanism, whose negativity was

Scepticism, came forth as independent, and if finally the implicitly

existent universality of both was established, these moments are now

known as separate totalities, and yet in their opposition they have

to be thought of as one. We have here the true speculative Idea, the

Notion in its determinations, each of which is brought into a totality

and clearly relates to the other. We thus have really two Ideas, the

subjective Idea as knowledge, and then the substantial and concrete

Idea; and the development and perfection of this principle and its

coming to the consciousness of Thought, is the subject treated by

modern Philosophy. Thus the determinations are in it more concrete than

with the ancients. This opposition in which the two sides culminate,

grasped in its widest significance, is the opposition between Thought

and Being, individuality and substance, so that in the subject himself

his freedom stands once more within the bounds of necessity; it is the

opposition between subject and object, and between Nature and Mind, in

so far as this last as finite stands in opposition to Nature.

The Greek Philosophy is free from restraint because it does not yet

have regard to the opposition between Being and Thought, but proceeds

from the unconscious presupposition that Thought is also Being.

Certainly certain stages in the Greek Philosophy are laid hold of which

seem to stand on the same platform as the Christian philosophies.

Thus when we see, for instance, in the Philosophy of the Sophists,

the new Academics, and the Sceptics, that they maintain the doctrine

that the truth is not capable of being known, they might appear to

accord with the later subjective philosophies in asserting that all

thought-determinations were only subjective in character, and that

hence from these no conclusions could be arrived at as regards what is

objective. But there is really a difference. In the case of ancient

philosophies, which said that we know only the phenomenal, everything

is confined to that; it is as regards practical life that the new

Academy and the Sceptics also admitted the possibility of conducting

oneself rightly, morally and rationally, when one adopts the phenomenal

as one’s rule and guide in life. But though it is the phenomenal that

lies at the foundation of things, it is not asserted that there is

likewise a knowledge of the true and existent, as in the case of the

merely subjective idealists of a more modern day. These last still

keep in the background a potentiality, a beyond which cannot be known

through thought or through conception. This other knowledge is an

immediate knowledge—a faith in, a view of, and a yearning after,

the beyond such as was evinced by Jacobi. The ancients have no such

yearning; on the contrary, they have perfect satisfaction and rest in

the certitude that only that which appears is for Knowledge. Thus it

is necessary in this respect to keep strictly to the point of view

from which we start, else through the similarity of the results, we

come to see in that old Philosophy all the determinate character of

modern subjectivity. Since in the simplicity of ancient philosophy the

phenomenal was itself the only sphere, doubts as to objective thought

were not present to it.

The opposition defined, the two sides of which are in modern times

really related to one another as totalities, also has the form of an

opposition between reason and faith, between individual perception

and the objective truth which must be taken without reason of one’s

own, and even with a complete disregard for such reason. This is faith

as understood by the church, or faith in the modern sense, i.e. a

rejection of reason in favour of an inward revelation, called a direct

certainty or perception, or an implicit and intuitive feeling. The

opposition between this knowledge, which has first of all to develop

itself, and that knowledge which has already developed itself inwardly,

arouses a peculiar interest. In both cases the unity of thought or

subjectivity and of Truth or objectivity is manifested, only in the

first form it is said that the natural man knows the Truth since

he intuitively believes it, while in the second form the unity of

knowledge and Truth is shown, but in such a way that the subject raises

itself above the immediate form of sensuous consciousness and reaches

the Truth first of all through Thought.

The final end is to think the Absolute as Mind, as the Universal, that

which, when the infinite bounty of the Notion in its reality freely

emits its determinations from itself, wholly impresses itself upon and

imparts itself to them, so that they may be indifferently outside of

or in conflict with one another, but so that these totalities are one

only, not alone implicitly, (which would simply be our reflection) but

explicitly identical, the determinations of their difference being thus

explicitly merely ideal. Hence if the starting-point of the history of

Philosophy can be expressed by saying that God is comprehended as the

immediate and not yet developed universality, and that its end—the

grasping of the Absolute as Mind through the two and a half thousand

years’ work of the thus far inert world-spirit—is the end of our time,

it makes it easy for us from one determination to go on through the

manifestation of its needs, to others. Yet in the course of history

this is difficult.

We thus have altogether two philosophies—the Greek and the Teutonic.

As regards the latter we must distinguish the time when Philosophy made

its formal appearance as Philosophy and the period of formation and of

preparation for modern times. We may first begin Teutonic philosophy

where it appears in proper form as Philosophy. Between the first

period and those more recent, comes, as an intermediate period, that

fermentation of a new Philosophy which on the one side keeps within the

substantial and real existence and does not arrive at form, while on

the other side, it perfects Thought, as the bare form of a presupposed

truth, until it again knows itself as the free ground and source of

Truth. Hence the history of Philosophy falls into three periods—that

of the Greek Philosophy, the Philosophy of the Middle Ages and the

modern Philosophy. Of these the first is speaking generally, regulated

by Thought, the second falls into the opposition between existence and

formal reflection, but the third has the Notion as its ground. This

must not be taken to mean that the first contains Thought alone; it

also has conceptions and ideas, just as the latter begins from abstract

thoughts which yet constitute a duality.

_First Period._—This commences at the time of Thales, about 600 B.C.,

and goes on to the coming to maturity of the Neo-platonic philosophy

with Plotinus in the third century; from thence to its further progress

and development with Proclus in the fifth century until the time when

all philosophy was extinguished. The Neo-platonic philosophy then made

its entrance into Christianity later on, and many philosophies within

Christianity have this philosophy as their only groundwork. This is a

space of time extending to about 1000 years, the end of which coincides

with the migration of the nations and the decline of the Roman Empire.

_Second Period._—The second period is that of the Middle Ages.

The Scholastics are included in it, and Arabians and Jews are also

historically to be noticed, but this philosophy mainly falls within the

Christian Church. This period is of something over 1000 years’ duration.

_Third Period._—The Philosophy of modern times made its first

independent appearance after the Thirty Years’ War, with Bacon, Jacob

Böhm and Descartes; it begins with the distinction contained in:

_cogito ergo sum_. This period is one of a couple of centuries and the

philosophy is consequently still somewhat modern.

2. SOURCES OF THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY.

We have to seek for sources of another kind in this than in political

history. There historians are the fountainheads, which again have

as sources the deeds and sayings of individuals; and the historians

who are not original have over and above performed their work at

secondhand. But historians always have the deeds already present

in history, that is to say, here brought into the form of ordinary

conception; for the name of history has two meanings: it signifies

on the one hand the deeds and events themselves, and on the other,

it denotes them in so far as they are formed through conception for

conception. In the history of Philosophy there are, on the contrary,

not any sources which can be derived from historians, but the deeds

themselves lie before us, and these—the philosophic operations

themselves—are the true sources. If we wish to study the history of

Philosophy in earnest, we must go to such springs as these. Yet these

operations form too wide a field to permit of our keeping to it alone

in this history. In the case of many philosophers it is absolutely

necessary to confine oneself to the original authors, but in many

periods, in which we cannot obtain original sources, seeing that they

have not been preserved to us, (as, for instance, in that of the older

Greek philosophy) we must certainly confine our attention simply to

historians and other writers. There are other periods, too, where it is

desirable that others should have read the works of the philosophers

and that we should receive abstracts therefrom. Several schoolmen

have left behind them works of sixteen, twenty-four and twenty-six

folios, and hence we must in their case confine ourselves to the

researches of others. Many philosophic works are also rare and hence

difficult to obtain. Many philosophers are for the most part important

from an historic or literary point of view only, and hence we may

limit ourselves to the compilations in which they are dealt with. The

most noteworthy works on the history of Philosophy are, however, the

following, regarding which I refer for particulars to the summary of

Tennemann’s History of Philosophy, by A. Wendt, since I do not wish to

give any complete list.

1. One of the first Histories of Philosophy, which is only interesting

as an attempt, is the “History of Philosophy,” by Thomas Stanley

(London, 1655, folio ed. III., 1701, 4. translated into Latin by

Godofr. Olearius, Lipsiæ, 1711, 4). This history is no longer much

used, and only contains the old philosophic schools in the form of

sects and as if no new ones had existed. That is to say, it keeps to

the old belief commonly held at that time, that there only were ancient

philosophies and that the period of philosophy came to an end with

Christianity, as if Philosophy were something belonging to heathendom

and the truth only could be found in Christianity. In it a distinction

was drawn between Truth as it is created from the natural reason in the

ancient philosophies, and the revealed truth of the Christian religion,

in which there was consequently no longer any Philosophy. In the time

of the Revival of Learning there certainly were no proper philosophies,

and above all in Stanley’s time systems of Philosophy proper were too

young for the older generations to have the amount of respect for them

necessary to allow of their being esteemed as realities.

2. _Jo. Jac. Bruckeri Historia critica philosophiæ, Lipsiæ_, 1742-1744,

four parts, or five volumes in four, for the fourth part has two

volumes. The second edition, unaltered, but with the addition of

a supplement, 1766-1767, four parts in six quartos, the last of

which forms the supplement. This is an immense compilation which is

not formed straight from the original sources, but is mixed with

reflections after the manner of the times. As we have seen from an

example above (p. 43) the accounts given are in the highest degree

inaccurate. Brucker’s manner of procedure is entirely unhistoric, and

yet nowhere ought we to proceed in a more historic manner than in

the history of Philosophy. This work is thus simply so much useless

ballast. An epitome of the same is _Jo. Jac. Bruckeri Institutiones

historiæ philosophicæ, usui academicæ juventutis adornatæ, Lipsiæ_,

1747, 8; second edition, Leipzig, 1756; third edition prepared by Born,

Leipzig, 1790, 8.

3. Dietrich Tiedmann’s _Geist der Speculativen Philosophie_, Marburg,

1791-1797, 6 vols., 8. He treats of political history diffusely, but

without any life, and the language is stiff and affected. The whole

work is a melancholy example of how a learned professor can occupy his

whole life with the study of speculative philosophy, and yet have no

idea at all of speculation. His _argumenta_ to the Plato of Brucker

are of the same description. In every history he makes abstracts from

the philosophers so long as they keep to mere ratiocination, but when

the speculative is arrived at, he becomes irate, declaring it all to

be composed of empty subtleties, and stops short with the words “we

know better.” His merit is that he has supplied valuable abstracts

from rare books belonging to the Middle Ages and from cabalistic and

mystical works of that time.

4. Joh. Gottlieb Buhle: _Lehrbuch der Geschichte der Philosophie und

einer kritischen Literatur derselben_, Göttingen, 1796 to 1804, eight

parts, 8. Ancient philosophy is treated with disproportionate brevity;

the further Buhle went on, the more particular he became. He has many

good summaries of rare works, as for instance those of Giordano Bruno,

which were in the Göttingen Library.

5. Wilh. Gottl. Tennemann’s _Geschichte der Philosophie_, Leipzig,

1798—1819, eleven parts, 8. The eighth part, the Scholastic

Philosophy, occupies two volumes. The philosophies are fully described,

and the more modern times are better done than the ancient. The

philosophies of recent times are easier to describe, since it is only

necessary to make an abstract or to interpret straight on, for the

thoughts contained in them lie nearer to ours. It is otherwise with

the ancient philosophers, because they stand in another stage of

the Notion, and on this account they are likewise more difficult to

grasp. That is to say, what is old is easily overthrown by something

else more familiar to us, and where Tennemann comes across such he is

almost useless. In Aristotle, for instance, the misinterpretation is so

great, that Tennemann foists upon him what is directly opposite to his

beliefs, and thus from the adoption of the opposite to what Tennemann

asserts to be Aristotle’s opinion, a correct idea of Aristotelian

philosophy is arrived at. Tennemann is then candid enough to place the

reference to Aristotle underneath the text, so that the original and

the interpretation often contradict one another. Tennemann thinks that

it is really the case that the historian should have no philosophy, and

he glories in that; yet he really has a system and he is a critical

philosopher. He praises philosophers, their work and their genius,

and yet the end of the lay is that all of them will be pronounced to

be wanting in that they have one defect, which is not to be Kantian

philosophers and not yet to have sought the source of knowledge. From

this the result is that the Truth could not be known.

Of compendiums, three have to be noticed. 1. Frederick Aft’s _Grundriss

einer Geschichte der Philosophie_. (Landshut, 1807, 8; second edition,

1825) is written from a better point of view; the Philosophy is that

of Schelling for the most part, but it is somewhat confused. Aft by

some formal method has distinguished ideal philosophy from real. 2.

Professor Wendt’s Göttingen edition of Tennemann (fifth edition,

Leipzig, 1828, 8). It is astonishing to see what is represented as

being Philosophy, without any consideration as to whether it has any

meaning or not. Such so-called new philosophies grow like mushrooms out

of the ground. There is nothing easier than to comprehend in harmony

with a principle; but it must not be thought that hence something

new and profound has been accomplished. 3. Rirner’s _Handbuch der

Geschichte der Philosophie_, 3 vols., Sulzbach, 1822-1823, 8 (second

amended edition, 1829) is most to be commended, and yet I will not

assert that it answers all the requirements of a History of Philosophy.

There are many points which leave much to desire, but the appendices

to each volume in which the principal original authorities are quoted,

are particularly excellent for their purpose. Selected extracts, more

specially from the ancient philosophers, are needed, and these would

not be lengthy, since there are not very many passages to be given from

the philosophers before Plato.

3. METHOD OF TREATMENT ADOPTED IN THIS HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY.

As regards external history I shall only touch upon that which is

the concern of universal history, the spirit or the principle of the

times, and hence I will treat of conditions of life in reference to

the outstanding philosophers. Of philosophies, however, only those

are to be made mention of the principles of which have caused some

sensation, and through which science has made an advance; hence I shall

put aside many names which would be taken up in a learned treatise, but

which are of little value in respect to Philosophy. The history of the

dissemination of a doctrine, its fate, those who have merely taught a

particular doctrine, I pass over, as the deduction of the whole world

from one particular principle.

The demand that in Philosophy an historian should have no system,

should put into the philosophy nothing of his own, nor assail it with

his ideas, seems a plausible one. The history of Philosophy should

show just this impartiality, and it seems in so far that to give only

summaries of the philosophers proves a success. He who understands

nothing of the matter, and has no system, but merely historic

knowledge, will certainly be impartial. But political history has to

be carefully distinguished from the history of Philosophy. That is

to say, though in the former, one is not indeed at liberty to limit

oneself to representing the events chronologically only, one can yet

keep to what is entirely objective, as is done in the Homeric epic.

Thus Herodotus and Thucydides, as free men, let the objective world

do freely and independently as it would; they have added nothing of

their own, neither have they taken and judged before their tribunal the

actions which they represented. Yet even in political history there is

also a particular end kept in view. In Livy the main points are the

Roman rule, its enlargement, and the perfecting of the constitution;

we see Rome arise, defend itself, and exercise its mastery. It is thus

that the self-developing reason in the history of Philosophy makes of

itself an end, and this end is not foreign or imported, but is the

matter itself, which lies at the basis as universal, and with which the

individual forms of themselves correspond. Thus when the history of

Philosophy has to tell of deeds in history, we first ask, what a deed

in Philosophy is; and whether any particular thing is philosophic or

not. In external history everything is in action—certainly there is in

it what is important and that which is unimportant—but action is the

idea immediately placed before us. This is not the case in Philosophy,

and on this account the history of Philosophy cannot be treated

throughout without the introduction of the historian’s views.

ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY

THE first Philosophy in order is the so-called Oriental, which,

however, does not enter into the substance or range of our subject

as represented here. Its position is preliminary, and we only deal

with it at all in order to account for not treating of it at greater

length, and to show in what relation it stands to Thought and to true

Philosophy. The expression Eastern philosophy is specially employed

in reference to the period in which this great universal Oriental

conception aroused the East—the land of circumscription and of

limitation, where the spirit of subjectivity reigns. More particularly

in the first centuries of Christendom—that significant period—did

these great Oriental ideas penetrate into Italy; and in the Gnostic

philosophy they began to force the idea of the illimitable into the

Western mind, until in the Church the latter again succeeded in

obtaining the ascendency and hence in firmly establishing the Divine.

That which we call Eastern Philosophy is more properly the religious

mode of thought and the conception of the world belonging generally

to the Orientals and approximates very closely to Philosophy; and to

consider the Oriental idea of religion just as if it were religious

philosophy, is to give the main reason why it is so like.

We do not similarly maintain that the Roman, Greek and Christian

Religions constitute Philosophy. These bear all the less similarity

thereto in that the Greek and Roman gods as also Christ and the God

of the Jews, on account of the principle of individual freedom which

penetrates the Greek and still more the Christian element, make their

appearance immediately as the explicit, personal forms, which, being

mythological or Christian, must first be themselves interpreted and

changed into a philosophic form. In the case of Eastern Religion, on

the contrary, we are much more directly reminded of the philosophic

conception, for since in the East the element of subjectivity has

not come forth, religious ideas are not individualized, and we have

predominating a kind of universal ideas, which hence present the

appearance of being philosophic ideas and thoughts. The Orientals

certainly have also individual forms, such as Brahma, Vishnu and Civa,

but because freedom is wanting the individuality is not real, but

merely superficial. And so much is this the case, that when we suppose

that we have to deal with a human form, the same loses itself again and

expands into the illimitable. Just as we hear amongst the Greeks of a

Uranus and Chronos—of Time individualized—we find with the Persians,

Zeroane Akerene, but it is Time unlimited. We find Ormuzd and Ahriman

to be altogether general forms and ideas; they appear to be universal

principles which thus seem to bear a relationship to Philosophy or even

seem to be themselves philosophic.

Just as the content of the Eastern religions, God, the essentially

existent, the eternal, is comprehended somewhat in the light of

universal, we find the relative positions of individuals to Him to be

the same. In the Eastern religions the first condition is that only

the one substance shall, as such, be the true, and that the individual

neither can have within himself, nor can he attain to any value in as

far as he maintains himself as against the being in and for itself.

He can have true value only through an identification with this

substance in which he ceases to exist as subject and disappears into

unconsciousness. In the Greek and Christian Religion, on the other

hand, the subject knows himself to be free and must be maintained as

such; and because the individual in this way makes himself independent,

it is undoubtedly much more difficult for Thought to free itself from

this individuality and to constitute itself in independence. The

higher point of view implicitly contained in the Greek individual

freedom, this happier, larger life, makes more difficult the work of

Thought, which is to give due value to the universal. In the East,

on the contrary, the substantial in Religion is certainly on its own

view the principal matter, the essential—and with it lawlessness,

the absence of individual consciousness is immediately connected—and

this substance is undoubtedly a philosophic idea. The negation of

the finite is also present, but in such a manner that the individual

only reaches to its freedom in this unity with the substantial. In as

far as in the Eastern mind, reflection, consciousness come through

thought to distinction and to the determination of principles, there

exist such categories and such definite ideas not in unity with the

substantial. The destruction of all that is particular either is an

illimitable, the exaltitude of the East, or, in so far as that which

is posited and determined for itself is known, it is a dry, dead

understanding, which cannot take up the speculative Notion into itself.

To that which is true, this finite can exist only as immersed in

substance; if kept apart from this it remains dead and arid. We thus

find only dry understanding amongst the Easterns, a mere enumeration

of determinations, a logic like the Wolffian of old. It is the same as

in their worship, which is complete immersion in devotion and then an

endless number of ceremonials and of religious actions; and this on the

other side is the exaltitude of that illimitable in which everything

disappears.

There are two Eastern nations with which I wish just now to deal—the

Chinese and the Indian.

A. CHINESE PHILOSOPHY.

It is true of the Chinese as well as of the Indians that they have a

great reputation for culture; but this, as well as the amount of Indian

literature which exists, has largely diminished through a further

knowledge of it. The great knowledge of these people bears upon such

subjects as Religion, Science, the constitution and administration

of the state, poetry, handicrafts and commerce. But when we compare

the laws and constitution of China with the European, we find that

we can only do so in respect of what is formal, for the content is

very different. It is also felt, however consistently they may be

constituted as to form, that they cannot find their place with us, that

we could not allow of their giving us satisfaction, and that they take

the place of law, or rather that they put an end to it. It is the same

thing when we compare Indian poetry with European; considered as a mere

play of the imagination it is as brilliant, rich and cultured as that

of any other people. But in poetry we have to do with content, and that

is the important part of it. Even the Homeric poetry is not serious for

us, and hence such poetry cannot last. It is not the lack of genius

in the Oriental poetry; the amount of genius is the same and the form

may be very much developed, but the content remains confined within

certain bounds and cannot satisfy us, nor can it be our content. This

is at outset a fact applying universally to such comparisons, inasmuch

as men let themselves be dazzled by form, making it equal with, or even

preferring it to ours.

1. _Confucius_. The first subject of remark with regard to the Chinese

respects the teaching of Confucius (500 years before Christ) which

made a great sensation in Liebnitz’ time; this teaching is a moral

philosophy. Confucius has, besides, commented upon the old traditional

principles of the Chinese; his high moral teaching, however, gave him

his great fame, and that teaching is the authority most esteemed in

China. Confucius’ Biography has been translated by French missionaries

from the original Chinese; from this he appears to have been almost

contemporaneous with Thales, to have been for a considerable time

Minister, to have then fallen into disfavour, lost his place and

lived and philosophized amongst his own friends, while still being

often asked to give advice. We have conversations between Confucius

and his followers in which there is nothing definite further than a

commonplace moral put in the form of good, sound doctrine, which may be

found as well expressed and better, in every place and amongst every

people. Cicero gives us _De Officiis_, a book of moral teaching more

comprehensive and better than all the books of Confucius. He is hence

only a man who has a certain amount of practical and worldly wisdom—one

with whom there is no speculative philosophy. We may conclude from his

original works that for their reputation it would have been better had

they never been translated. The treatise which the Jesuits produced[9]

is, however, more a paraphrase than a translation.

2. _The Philosophy of the Y-king_. A second matter of remark is

that the Chinese have also taken up their attention with abstract

thoughts and with pure categories. The old book Y-king, or the Book of

Principles, serves as the foundation for such; it contains the wisdom

of the Chinese, and its origin is attributed to Fohi. That which is

there by him related passes into what is quite mythological, fabulous

and even senseless. The main point in it is the ascription to him of

the discovery of a table with certain signs or figures (Ho-tu) which

he saw on the back of a horse-dragon as it rose out of the river.[10]

This table contains parallel lines above one another, which have a

symbolical signification; and the Chinese say that these lines are

the foundation of their characters as also of their philosophy. These

symbols are quite abstract categories, and consequently the most

superficial determinations of the understanding. It must certainly be

considered that pure thoughts are brought to consciousness, but in this

case we make no advance, merely remaining stationary so far as they

are concerned. The concrete is not conceived of speculatively, but

is simply taken from ordinary ideas, inasmuch as it is expressed in

accordance with their forms of representation and of perception. Hence

in this collection of concrete principles there is not to be found

in one single instance a sensuous conception of universal natural or

spiritual powers.

To satisfy the curious, I will give these principles in greater detail.

The two fundamental, figures are a horizontal line (⚊, Yang) and the

one which is broken into two equal parts (⚋, Yin). The first which is

the perfect, the father, the manlike, the unity, such as is represented

by the Pythagoreans, represents the affirmative; the second is the

imperfect, the mother, the womanly, the duality and the negation.

These signs are held in high esteem, for they are considered to be

the Principles of things. First of all they are placed in combination

of two from which four figures result: ⚌, ⚍, ⚎, ⚏, or the great Yang,

the little Yang, the little Yin, and the great Yin. The signification

of these four representations is matter as perfect and imperfect. The

two Yangs are perfect matter: the first is in the category of youth

and power; the second is the same matter, but as old and powerless.

The third and fourth images, where Yin constitutes the basis, are

imperfect matter, which has again the two determinations of youth and

age, strength and weakness. These lines are further united in sets of

three, and thus eight figures result, which are called Kua, ☰, ☱, ☲, ☳,

☴, ☵, ☶, ☷. I will give the interpretation of these Kua just to show

how superficial it is. The first sign, containing the great Yang and

the Yang is the Heavens (Tien) or the all-pervading ether. The Heavens

to the Chinese means what is highest, and it has been a great source

of division amongst the missionaries whether they ought to call the

Christian God, Tien, or not. The second sign is pure water (Tui),

the third pure fire (Li), the fourth thunder (Tschin), the fifth wind

(Siun), the sixth common water (Kan), the seventh mountains (Ken), the

eighth the earth (Kuen). We should not place heaven, thunder, wind

and mountains on the same footing. We may thus obtain a philosophic

origin for everything out of these abstract thoughts of absolute unity

and duality. All symbols have the advantage of indicating thoughts

and of calling up significations, and in this way such are likewise

present there. Thought thus forms the first beginning, but afterwards

it goes into the clouds, and Philosophy does likewise. Therefore

if Windischmann[11] in his commentary recognizes in this system of

Confucius, a “thorough interconnection between all Kua in the whole

series,” it should be remembered that not a particle of the Notion is

to be found in it.

United further in sets of four, the lines produce sixty-four figures,

which the Chinese consider to be the origin of their characters,

since there have been added to these straight lines those which are

perpendicular and inclined in different directions.

In Schuking there is also a chapter on Chinese wisdom, where the five

elements from which everything is made make their appearance. These are

fire, water, wood, metal and earth, which exist all in confusion, and

which we should no more than we did before, allow to be principles. The

first canon in the law is found in the Schuking, as the naming of the

five elements; the second, considerations upon the last, and so it goes

on.[12] Universal abstraction with the Chinese thus goes on to what is

concrete, although in accordance with an external kind of order only,

and without containing anything that is sensuous. This is the principle

of all Chinese wisdom and of all the objects of study in China.

3. _The Sect of the Tao-See_. There is yet another separate sect,

that of the Tao-See, the followers of which are not mandarins and

attached to the state religion, nor are they Buddhists or Lamaics. The

originator of this philosophy and the one who was closely connected

with it in his life, is Lao-Tsö, who was born in the end of the seventh

century before Christ and who was older than Confucius, for this

representative of the more political school went to him in order to

ask his advice. The book of the Lao-Tsö, Tao-king, is certainly not

included in the proper Kings and has not their authority, but it is

an important work amongst the Taosts or the followers of reason, who

call their rule in life Tao-Tao, which means the observation of the

dictates or the laws of reason. They dedicate their lives to the study

of reason, and maintain that he who knows reason in its source will

possess universal science, remedies for every ill and all virtue; he

will also have obtained a supernatural power of being able to fly to

heaven and of not dying.[13]

His followers say of Lao-Tsö himself that he is Buddha who as man

became the ever-existent God. We still have his principal writings;

they have been taken to Vienna, and I have seen them there myself.

One special passage is frequently taken from them: “Without a name

Tao[14] is the beginning of Heaven and Earth, and with a name she is

the Mother of the Universe. It is only in her imperfect state that she

is considered with affection; who desires to know her must be devoid

of passions.” Abel Rémusat says that taken at its best this might be

expressed by the Greek in _όογος_. The celebrated passage which is

often quoted by the ancients is this,[15] “Reason has brought forth

the one; the one has brought forth the two; the two have brought forth

the three; and the three have produced the whole world.” In this men

have tried to find a reference to the Trinity. “The Universe rests

upon the principle of Darkness, the universe embraces the principle of

Light,” or “it is embraced by ether;” it can be thus reversed, because

the Chinese language has no case inflection, the words merely standing

in proximity. Another passage in the same place has this sense, “He

whom ye look at and do not see, is named I; thou hearkenest to him and

hearest him not, and he is called Hi; thou seekest for him with thy

hand and touchest him not, and his name is Weï. Thou meetest him and

seest not his head; thou goest behind him and seest not his back.”

These contradictory expressions are called the “chain of reason.” One

naturally thinks in quoting these passages of יהרה and of the African

kingly name of Juba and also of _Jovis_. This I-hi-weï or I-H-W[16] is

further made to signify an absolute vacuity and that which is Nothing;

to the Chinese what is highest and the origin of things is nothing,

emptiness, the altogether undetermined, the abstract universal, and

this is also called Tao or reason. When the Greeks say that the

absolute is one, or when men in modern times say that it is the highest

existence, all determinations are abolished, and by the merely abstract

Being nothing has been expressed excepting this same negation, only in

an affirmative form. But if Philosophy has got no further than to such

expression, it still stands on its most elementary stage. What is there

to be found in all this learning?

B. INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

If we had formerly the satisfaction of believing in the antiquity

of the Indian wisdom and of holding it in respect, we now have

ascertained through being acquainted with the great astronomical

works of the Indians, the inaccuracy of all figures quoted. Nothing

can be more confused, nothing more imperfect than the chronology of

the Indians; no people which has attained to culture in astronomy,

mathematics, &c., is as incapable for history; in it they have neither

stability nor coherence. It was believed that such was to be had in

the time of Wikramaditya, who was supposed to have lived about 50

B.C., and under whose reign the poet Kalidasa, author of Sakontala,

lived. But further research discovered half a dozen Wikramadityas and

careful investigation has placed this epoch in our eleventh century.

The Indians have lines of kings and an enormous quantity of names, but

everything is vague.

We know how the ancient glory of this land was held in the highest

estimation even by the Greeks, just as they knew about the

Gymnosophists, who were excellent men, though people ventured to call

them otherwise—men who having dedicated themselves to a contemplative

life, lived in abstraction from external life, and hence, wandering

about in hordes, like the Cynics renounced all ordinary desires. These

latter in their capacity as philosophers, were also more especially

known to the Greeks, inasmuch as Philosophy is also supposed to exist

in this abstraction, in which all the relationships of ordinary life

are set aside; and this abstraction is a feature which we wish to bring

into prominence and consider.

Indian culture is developed to a high degree, and it is imposing, but

its Philosophy is identical with its Religion, and the objects to

which attention is devoted in Philosophy are the same as those which

we find brought forward in Religion. Hence the holy books or Vedas

also form the general groundwork for Philosophy. We know the Vedas

tolerably well; they contain principally prayers addressed to the

many representations of God, direction as to ceremonials, offerings,

&c. They are also of the most various periods; many parts are very

ancient, and others have taken their origin later, as, for instance,

that which treats of the service of Vishnu. The Vedas even constitute

the basis for the atheistical Indian philosophies; these, too, are not

wanting in gods, and they pay genuine attention to the Vedas. Indian

Philosophy thus stands within Religion just as scholastic Philosophy

stands within Christian dogmatism, having at its basis and presupposing

the doctrines of the church. Mythology takes the form of incarnation

or individualization, from which it might be thought that it would be

opposed to Philosophy in its universality and ideality; incarnation is

not, however, here taken in so definite a sense, for almost everything

is supposed to partake of it, and the very thing that seems to define

itself as individuality falls back directly within the mist of the

universal. The idea of the Indians more appropriately expressed, is

that there is one universal substance which may be laid hold of in the

abstract or in the concrete, and out of which everything takes its

origin. The summit of man’s attainment is that he as consciousness

should make himself identical with the substance, in Religion by means

of worship, offerings, and rigid acts of expiation, and in Philosophy

through the instrumentality of pure thought.

It is quite recently that we first obtained a definite knowledge of

Indian Philosophy; in the main we understand by it religious ideas,

but in modern times men have learned to recognize real philosophic

writings. Colebrooke,[17] in particular, communicated abstracts

to us from two Indian philosophic works, and this forms the first

contribution we have had in reference to Indian Philosophy. What

Frederick von Schlegel says about the wisdom of the Indians is taken

from their religious ideas only. He is one of the first Germans who

took up his attention with Indian philosophy, yet his work bore little

fruit because he himself read no more than the index to the Ramayana.

According to the abstract before mentioned, the Indians possess ancient

philosophic systems; one part of these they consider to be orthodox,

and those which tally with the Vedas are particularly included; the

others are held to be heterodox and as not corresponding with the

teaching of the holy books. The one part, which really is orthodox, has

no other purpose than to make the deliverances of the Vedas clearer,

or to derive from the text of these original treatises an ingeniously

thought-out Psychology. This system is called Mimansa, and two schools

proceed from it. Distinguished from these there are other systems,

amongst which the two chief are those of the Sanc’hya and Nyaya. The

former again divides into two parts which are, however, different in

form only. The Nyaya is the most developed; it more particularly gives

the rules for reasoning, and may be compared to the Logic of Aristotle.

Colebrooke has made abstracts from both of these systems, and he says

that there are many ancient treatises upon them, and that the _versus

memoriales_ from them are very extensive.

1. _The Sanc’hya Philosophy of Capila_. The originator of the Sanc’hya

is called Capila, and he was an ancient sage of whom it was said that

he was a son of Brahma, and one of the seven great Holy men; others

say that he was an incarnation of Vishnu, like his disciple Asuri,

and that he was identified with fire. As to the age of the Aphorisms

(Sutras) of Capila, Colebrooke can say nothing; he merely mentions that

they were already mentioned in other very ancient books, but he does

not feel able to say anything definite in the matter. The Sanc’hya is

divided into different schools, of which there are two or three, which,

however, differ from one another only in a few particulars. It is held

to be partly heterodox and partly orthodox.

The real aim of all Indian schools and systems of Philosophy, whether

atheistic or theistic, is to teach the means whereby eternal happiness

can be attained before, as well as after, death. The Vedas say, “What

has to be known is the Soul; it must be distinguished from nature, and

hence it will never come again.” That means that it is exempt from

metempsychosis and likewise from bodily form, so that it does not after

death make its appearance in another body. This blessed condition

therefore is, according to the Sanc’hya, a perfect and eternal

release from every kind of ill. It reads:—“Through Thought, the true

Science, this freedom can be accomplished; the temporal and worldly

means of procuring enjoyment and keeping off spiritual or bodily evil

are insufficient; even the methods advocated by the Vedas are not

effectual for the purpose, and these are found in the revealed form

of worship, or in the performance of religious ceremonies as directed

in the Vedas.” The offering up of animals is specially valuable as

such a means; and in this regard the Sanc’hya rejects the Vedas; such

an offering is not pure, because it is connected with the death of

animals, and the main tenet in the former is not to injure any animal.

Other methods of deliverance from evil are in the excessive acts of

penance performed by the Indians, to which a retreat within themselves

is added. Now when the Indian thus internally collects himself, and

retreats within his own thoughts, the moment of such pure concentration

is called Brahma, the one and the clearly supersensuous state, which

the understanding calls the highest possible existence. When this is

so with me, then am I Brahma. Such a retreat into Thought takes place

in the Religion as well as in the Philosophy of the Indians, and they

assert with reference to this state of bliss that it is what is highest

of all, and that even the gods do not attain to it. Indra, for example,

the god of the visible heavens, is much lower than the soul in this

life of internal contemplation; many thousand Indras have passed away,

but the soul is exempt from every change. The Sanc’hya only differs

from Religion in that it has a complete system of thought or logic, and

that the abstraction is not made a reduction to what is empty, but is

raised up into the significance of a determinate thought. This science

is stated to subsist in the correct knowledge of the principles—which

may be outwardly perceptible or not—of the material and of the

immaterial world.

The Sanc’hya system separates itself into three parts: the method of

knowledge, the object of knowledge, and the determinate form of the

knowledge of principles.

_a._ As regards the methods of obtaining knowledge, the Sanc’hya says

that there are three kinds of evidence possible: first of all, that of

perception; secondly, that of inference; thirdly, that of affirmation,

which is the origin of all others, such as reverence for authority, a

teachable disposition, and tradition. Perception is said to require no

explanation. Inference is a conclusion arrived at from the operation of

cause and effect, by which one determination merely passes over into

a second. There are three forms, because inferences are made either

from cause to effect, from effect to cause, or in accordance with

different relations of cause and effect. Rain, we may say, is foretold

when a cloud is seen to be gathering; fire, when a hill is seen to be

smoking; or the movement of the moon is inferred when, at different

times, it is observed to be in different places. These are simple,

dry relations, originating from the understanding. Under affirmation,

tradition or revelation is understood, such as that of the orthodox

Vedas; in a wider sense, immediate certainty or the affirmation in my

consciousness, and in a less wide sense, an assurance through verbal

communication or through tradition is so denominated.

_b._ Of objects of knowledge or of principles, the Sanc’hya gives

five-and-twenty; and these I will mention to show the want of order

that is in them.

1. Nature, as the origin of everything, is said to be the

universal, the material cause, eternal matter, undistinguished and

undistinguishable, without parts, productive but without production,

absolute substance. 2. Intelligence, the first production of Nature

and itself producing other principles, distinguishable as three gods

through the efficacy of three qualities, which are Goodness, Foulness

and Darkness. These form one person and three gods, namely, Brahma,

Vishnu, and Maheswara. 3. Consciousness, personality, the belief that

in all perceptions and meditations I am present, that the objects of

sense, as well as of intelligence, concern me, in short that I am I.

It issues from the power of intelligence, and itself brings forth the

following principles. 4-8. Five very subtle particles, rudiments or

atoms, which are only perceptible to an existence of a higher order,

and not through the senses of men; these proceed from the principle

of consciousness, and bring forth on their own account the five

elements—space and the first origination of earth, water, fire and

air. 9-19. The eleven succeeding principles are the organs of feeling,

which are produced by the personality. There are ten external organs,

comprising the five senses and five active organs—the organs of the

voice, hands and feet, the excretory and genital organs. The eleventh

organ is that of the inward sense. 20 to 24. These principles are the

five elements brought forth from the earlier-named rudiments—the ether

which takes possession of space, air, fire, water and earth. 25. The

soul. In this very unsystematic form we see only the first beginnings

of reflection, which seem to be put together as a universal. But

this arrangement is, to say nothing of being unsystematic, not even

intelligent.

Formerly the principles were outside of and successive to one another;

their unity is found in the Soul. It is said of the latter that

it is not produced, and is not productive; it is individual, and

hence there are many souls; it is sentient, eternal, immaterial and

unchangeable. Colebrooke here distinguishes between the theistic and

atheistic systems of the Sanc’hya, since the former not only admits

of individual souls, but also upholds God (Iswara) as the ruler of the

world. The knowledge of the soul still remains the principal point. It

is through the consideration of nature and through abstraction from

nature that the unity of the soul with nature is brought about, just

as the lame man and the blind are brought together for the purposes of

transport and of guidance—the one being the bearer and being directed

(nature?), the other being borne and guiding (soul?). Through the union

of Soul and Nature, the creation is effected, and this consists in

the development of intelligence and of other principles. This unity

is the actual support for that which is, and the means by which it is

so maintained. It is at the same time an important consideration that

the negation of the object which is contained in thought, is necessary

in order to comprehend; this reflection has far more depth than the

ordinary talk about immediate consciousness. The view is superficial

and perverted which maintains the Easterns to have lived in unity

with nature; the soul in its activity, mind, is indeed undoubtedly in

relation with nature and in unity with the truth of nature. But this

true unity essentially contains the moment of the negation of nature

as it is in its immediacy; such an immediate unity is merely the life

of animals, the life and perception of the senses. The idea which is

present to the Indians is thus indeed the unity of nature and of soul,

but the spiritual is only one with nature in so far as it is within

itself, and at the same time manifests the natural as negative. As

regards the creation, this is further signified. The soul’s desire

and end is for satisfaction and freedom, and with this view it is

endowed with a subtle environment, in which all the above-mentioned

principles are contained, but only in their elementary development.

Something of our ideal, or of the implicit is present in this idea; it

is like the blossom which is ideally in the bud, and yet is not actual

and real. The expression for this is Lingam, the generative power of

nature, which holds a high place in the estimation of all Indians. This

subtle form, says the Sanc’hya, also assumes a coarse bodily shape,

and clothes itself in several garbs; and as a means of preventing

the descent into a coarse materiality, philosophic contemplation is

recommended.

Hitherto we have observed the abstract principles; the following is

to be noticed regarding the creation of the concrete actuality of

the universe. The bodily creation consists of the soul habited in

a material body; it comprehends eight orders of higher beings and

five orders of lower beings, which constitute—with men, who form

a single class—fourteen orders, and these are divided into three

worlds or classes. The first eight orders have appellations which

appear in Indian mythology, viz. Brahma, Prajapatis, Indra, &c.;

there are both gods and demi-gods, and Brahma himself is represented

here as if he were created. The five lower orders are composed of

animals: the four-footed animals are in two classes, birds come third,

reptiles, fishes, and insects fourth, and, finally, vegetable and

inorganic nature comes fifth. The abode of the eight higher classes

is in heaven; they are, it is said, in the enjoyment of that which is

good and virtuous, and consequently are happy, though still they are

but imperfect and transient; underneath is the seat of darkness or

delusion, where beings of the lower orders live; and between is the

world of men, where untruth or passion reigns.

Against these three worlds, which have their place in the material

creation, the system places yet another creation, and that is the

Intellectual, consisting of the powers of understanding and the

senses. These last are again divided into four classes, viz. those

determinations which impede, those which incapacitate, those which

satisfy, and those which perfect the intelligence. 1. Sixty-two of

the impeding determinations are adduced; eight kinds of error, as

many of opinion or of illusion, ten of passion as being illusion

carried to extremity, eighteen of hate or sullenness, and the same of

grief. Here there is shown somewhat of an empirical, psychological,

and observing mode of treatment. 2. The incapacity of intelligence

has again eight-and-twenty variations: injury, want of organs, &c.

3. Satisfaction is either inward or outward. The inward satisfaction

is fourfold; the first concerns nature, the whole universal or

substantial, and is set forth in the opinion that philosophic knowledge

is a modification of the principle of nature itself, with which there

is immediately united the anticipation of a liberty given through

the act of nature; yet the true liberty is not to be expected as

an act of nature, for it is the soul which has to bring forth that

liberty through itself and through its thinking activity. The second

satisfaction is in the belief of securing liberty through ascetic

exercises, pains, torments, and penances. The third has to do with

time—the idea that liberty will come in the course of time and without

study. The fourth satisfaction is obtained in a belief in luck—in

believing that liberty depends on fate. The external mode of obtaining

satisfaction relates to continence from enjoyment, but continence

from sensuous motives, such as dislike to the unrest of acquisition,

and fear of the evil consequences of enjoyment. 4. There are, again,

several means of perfecting the intelligence adduced, and, amongst

others, there is the direct psychological mode of perfecting mind, as

is seen in the act of reasoning, in friendly converse, and so on. This

we may find, indeed, in our applied logic.

There is still somewhat to be remarked as to the main points of

the system. The Sanc’hya, and likewise the other Indian systems of

Philosophy, occupy themselves particularly with the three _qualities_

(Guna) of the absolute Idea, which are represented as substances and

as modifications of nature. It is noteworthy that in the observing

consciousness of the Indians it struck them that what is true and

in and for itself contains three determinations, and the Notion of

the Idea is perfected in three moments. This sublime consciousness

of the trinity, which we find again in Plato and others, then went

astray in the region of thinking contemplation, and retains its place

only in Religion, and there but as a Beyond. Then the understanding

penetrated through it, declaring it to be senseless; and it was Kant

who broke open the road once more to its comprehension. The reality and

totality of the Notion of everything, considered in its substance, is

absorbed by the triad of determinations; and it has become the business

of our times to bring this to consciousness. With the Indians, this

consciousness proceeded from sensuous observation merely, and they now

further define these qualities as follows: The first and highest is

with them the Good (Sattva); it is exalted and illuminating—allied

to joy and felicity—and piety predominates within it. It prevails

in fire, and therefore flames rise up and sparks fly upwards; if it

has ascendency in men, as it does have in the eight higher orders,

it is the origin of virtue. This also is the universal—throughout

and in every aspect the affirmative—in abstract form. The second

and mediate quality is deceit or passion (Najas, Tejas) which for

itself is blind; it is that which is impure, harmful, hateful; it is

active, vehement, and restless, allied to evil and misfortune, being

prevalent in the air, on which account the wind moves transversely;

amongst living beings it is the cause of vice. The third and last

quality is darkness (Tamas); it is inert and obstructive, allied to

care, dullness, and disappointment, predominating in earth and water,

and hence these fall down and tend ever downwards. With living beings

stupidity takes its origin in this. The first quality is thus the

unity with itself; the second the manifestation or the principle of

difference, desire, disunion, as wickedness; the third, however, is

mere negation, as in mythology it is concretely represented in the form

of Siva, Mahadeva, or Maheswara, the god of change or destruction. As

far as we are concerned, the important distinction is that the third

principle is not the return to the first which Mind and Idea demand,

and which is effected by the removal of the negation in order to effect

a reconciliation with itself and to go back within itself. With the

Indians the third is still change and negation.

These three qualities are represented as the essential being of nature.

The Sanc’hya says, “We speak of them as we do of the trees in a wood.”

Yet this is a bad simile, for the wood is but an abstract universal, in

which the individuals are independent. In the religious ideas of the

Vedas, where these qualities also appear as Trimurti, they are spoken

of as if they were successive modifications, so that “Everything was

darkness first, then received the command to transform itself, and in

this manner the form”—which, however, is a worse one—“of movement and

activity (foulness) was assumed, until finally, by yet another command

from Brahma, the form of goodness was adopted.”

Further determinations of the intelligence in respect of these

qualities follow. It is said that eight kinds of intelligence are

counted, of which four pertain to what is good:—virtue first,

science and knowledge second, thirdly, freedom from passion, which,

may have either an external and sensuous motive—the repugnance to

disturbance—or be of an intellectual nature, and emanate from the

conviction that nature is a dream, a mere jugglery and sham; the fourth

is power. This last is eight-fold, and hence eight special qualities

are given as being present; viz. the power to contract oneself into a

quite small form, for which everything shall be penetrable; the power

to expand into a gigantic body; the power to become light enough to

be able to mount to the sun on a sunbeam; the possession of unlimited

power of action in the organs, so that with the finger-tips the moon

may be touched; irresistible will, so that, for instance, one may dive

into the earth as easily as in the water; mastery over all living and

lifeless existence; the power to change the course of nature; and the

power to perform everything that is wished. “The feeling that such

transcendent power,” Colebrooke goes on, “is within the reach of man

in his life is not peculiar to the Sanc’hya sect, but is common to all

systems and religious ideas, and such a power is in good faith ascribed

to many holy men and Brahmins in dramas and popular narratives.”

Sensuous evidence is of no account as opposed to this, for with the

Indian, perception of the senses is, generally speaking, absent:

everything adopts the form of imaginary images, every dream is esteemed

just as much as truth and actuality. The Sanc’hya ascribes this power

to man, in so far as he elevates himself through the working of his

thought into inward subjectivity. Colebrooke says, “The Yoga-sastra

names in one of its four chapters a number of acts by which such power

may be attained; these are exemplified by a profound meditation,

accompanied by holding back the breath and inactivity of the senses,

while a fixed position is constantly preserved. By means of such acts

the adept reaches the knowledge of all that is past as well as future;

he has learned to divine the thoughts of others, to have the strength

of elephants, the courage of lions, the swiftness of the wind, the

power to fly in the air, to swim in the water, to dive into the earth,

to behold every possible world in one moment, and to accomplish other

wonderful deeds. But the quickest mode of reaching happiness through

deep contemplation is that worship of God which consists in ever

murmuring the mystic name of God, ‘Om.’” This idea is a very general

one.

Colebrooke deals more particularly with the theistic and atheistic

divisions of the Sanc’hya as distinguished. While in the theistic

system, Iswara, the chief ruler of the world, is a soul or spirit

distinguished from the other souls, Capila, in the atheistic Sanc’hya,

disowns Iswara, the originator of the world by volition, alleging that

there is no proof of the existence of God, since it is not shown by

perception, nor is it possible that it should be deduced from argument.

He recognizes, indeed, an existence proceeding from nature which is

Absolute Intelligence, the source of all individual intelligences and

the origin of all other existences, which gradually develop out of it:

about the Creator of the world, understanding this to be creation, he

emphatically remarks that “the truth of such an Iswara is proved.”

But, he says, “the existence of effects depends on the soul, on

consciousness, and not on Iswara. Everything proceeds from the great

Principle, which is Intelligence;” to this the individual soul belongs,

and through this it is brought about.

_c._ As to the third division of the Sanc’hya, the more particular

consideration of the forms of knowledge as regards the principle, I

shall make a few more remarks, which may perhaps have some interest.

Of the various kinds of knowledge already given, that of reasoning, of

the connection existing with the conclusion through the relation of

cause and effect, remains the chief, and I will show how the Indians

comprehend this relation. The understanding and all other principles

derived from it are to them effects, and from these they reason to

their causes; in one respect this is analogous to our inference, but

in another different. They perceive that “effects exist even before

the operation of the causes; for what does not exist cannot be made

explicit in existence through causality.” Colebrooke says, “This means

that effects are educts rather than products.” But the question is just

what products are. As an example of how the effect is already contained

in the cause, the following is given:—Oil is already existent in the

seeds of sesamum before it is pressed out; rice is in the husk before

it is thrashed; milk is in the udder of the cow before it is milked.

Cause and effect are in reality the same; a piece of a dress is not

really different from the yarn from which it is woven, for the material

is the same. This is how this relation is understood. A consequence

derived from it was the eternity of the world, for the saying “Out

of nothing there comes nothing,” which Colebrooke also mentions, is

opposed to the belief in a creation of the world from nothing in our

religious sense. As a matter of fact, it must also be said, “God

creates the world not out of nothing, but out of Himself; it is His

own determination, by Him brought into existence.” The distinction

between cause and effect is only a formal distinction; it is the

understanding that keeps them separate, and not reason. Moisture is the

same as rain; or again we speak in mechanics of different movements,

whereas motion has the same velocity before as after impact. The

ordinary consciousness cannot comprehend the fact that there is no real

distinction between cause and effect.

The Indians infer the existence of “a universal cause which is

undistinguishable, while determinate things are finite,” and on

this account there must be a cause permeating through them. Even

intelligence is an effect of this cause, which is the soul in so far

as it is creative in this identity with nature after its abstraction

from it. Effect proceeds from cause, yet, on the other hand, this

last is not independent, but goes back into universal cause. General

destruction is postulated along with what is called the creation of

the three worlds. Just as the tortoise stretches out its limbs and

then draws them back again within its shell, the five elements, earth,

&c., which constitute the three worlds, are in the general ruin and

dissolution of things which takes place within a certain time, again

drawn back in the reverse order to that in which they emerged from

the original principle, because they return, step by step, to their

first cause—that is, to what is highest and inseparable, which is

Nature. To this the three qualities, goodness, passion, and darkness,

are attributed; the further attributes of these determinations may be

very interesting, but they are understood in a very superficial way.

For it is said that nature operates through the admixture of these

three qualities; each thing has all three within itself, like three

streams which flow together; it also works by means of modifications,

just as water which is soaked in through the roots of plants and led

up into the fruit, obtains a special flavour. There are hence only

the categories of admixture and of modification present. The Indians

say:—“Nature has these three qualities in her own right as her forms

and characteristics; other things have them only because they are

present in them as effects of the former.”

We still have to consider the relation of nature to spirit. “Nature,

although it is quite inanimate, performs the office of preparing

the soul for its freedom, just as it is the function of milk—of a

substance having no sensation—to nourish the calf.” The Sanc’hya makes

the following simile. Nature is like a _bajadere_ showing herself to

the soul as to an audience; she is abused for her impudence in exposing

herself too often to the rude gaze of the spectators. “But she retires

when she has shown herself sufficiently; she does so because she

has been seen, and the audience retires because it has seen. Nature

has no further use as regards the soul, and yet the union remains a

lasting one.” With the attainment of intellectual knowledge through

the study of principles, the final, incontrovertible, single truth is

learnt, that “I neither am, nor is anything mine, nor do I exist.”

That is, the personality is still distinguished from the soul, and

finally personality and self-consciousness disappear for the Indian.

“Everything that comes forth in consciousness is reflected by the

soul, but like an image which does not dull the crystal of the soul,

and does not belong to it. In possession of this self-knowledge”

(without personality) “the soul contemplates nature at its ease,

thus exempt from all terrible variation, and freed from every other

form and operation of the understanding, with the exception of this

spiritual knowledge.” This is a mediate spiritual knowledge of the

likewise spiritualized content—a knowledge without personality and

consciousness. “The soul still indeed remains for some time in bodily

garb, but this is only so after the same manner as the potter’s wheel,

when the jar is perfected, still turns round from the effect of the

previously given impulse.” The soul thus has, according to the Indians,

nothing further to do with the body, and its connection therewith is

therefore a superfluous one. “But when the separation of the already

prepared soul from its body at length comes to pass, and nature is done

with soul, the absolute and final liberation is accomplished.” Here we

find the crowning moments in the Sanc’hya philosophy.

2. _The Philosophy of Gotama and Canade_. The philosophy of Gotama and

that of Canade belong to one another.[18] The philosophy of Gotama is

called Nyaya (reasoning), and that of Canade, Vaiseshica (particular).

The first is a specially perfect dialectic, and the second, on the

other hand, occupies itself with physics, that is, with particular or

sensuous objects. Colebrooke says:—“No department of science or of

literature has taken up the attention of the Indians more than the

Nyaya; and the fruit of this study is an infinite number of writings,

included in which there may be found the works of very celebrated

men of learning. The system which Gotama and Canade observe is that

indicated in one part of the Vedas as being the path which must be

trodden in the pursuit of learning and study; viz., enunciation,

definition, and investigation. Enunciation is the specification of

a thing by its name, that is, by the expression denoting it, as

revelation directs; for language is considered as revealed to man.

Definition sets forth the particular quality which constitutes the

real character of a thing. Investigation consists in an inquiry into

the adequacy and sufficiency of the definition. In conformity with

this, the teachers of philosophy presuppose scientific terms, proceed

to definitions and then come to the investigation of the thus premised

subjects.” By the name, the ordinary conception is indicated, and with

it what is given in definition is compared in investigation. What comes

next is the object to be contemplated. “Gotama here adduces sixteen

points, amongst which proof, evidence” (which is formal), “and what has

to be proved, are the principal; the others are merely subsidiary and

accessory, as contributing to the knowledge and confirmation of the

truth. The Nyaya concurs with the other psychological schools in this,

that it promises happiness, final excellence, and freedom from evil as

the reward of a perfect knowledge of the principles which it teaches,

that is to say, of the Truth, meaning the conviction of the eternal

existence of the soul as separable from body,” which makes spirit

independent. Soul then is itself the object which is to be known and

proved. This has still to be shown more particularly.

_a._ The first point of importance, the evidence brought forth

as proof, is said to be divided into four kinds:—first of all,

perception; secondly, inference, of which there are three kinds,

viz. inference from result to cause, that from cause to effect, and

that derived from analogy. The third kind of evidence is comparison,

the fourth, trustworthy authority, including both tradition and the

revelation implied in it. These kinds of proof are much brought

forward, both in the ancient Treatise ascribed to Gotama and in

innumerable commentaries.

_b._ The second point of importance is found in the subjects which

have to be proved, and which have to be made evident; and of these

twelve are here given. The first and most important is, however, the

soul, as the seat, distinguished from the body and from the senses,

of feeling and of knowledge, the existence of which is proved through

inclination, disinclination, will, &c. It has fourteen qualities:

number, size, individuality, connection, separation, intelligence,

pleasure, pain, desire, dislike, will, merit, fault, and imagination.

We see in this first commencement of reflection, which is quite without

order, neither connection nor any totality of determinations. The

second object of knowledge is body; the third, the organs of sensation,

as the five outward senses are called. These are not modifications of

consciousness, as the Sanc’hya asserts, but matter constructed out of

the elements, which respectively consist of earth, water, light, air,

and ether. The pupil of the eye is not, they say, the organ of sight,

nor the ear of hearing, but the organ of seeing is a ray of light that

proceeds from the eye to the object; the organ of hearing is the ether

that in the cavity of the ear communicates with the object heard,

through the ether that is found between. The ray of light is usually

invisible, just as a light is not seen at mid-day, but in certain

circumstances it is visible. In taste, a watery substance like saliva

is the organ, and so on. We find something similar to what is here said

about sight in Plato’s Timæus (pp. 45, 46, Steph.; pp. 50-53, Bekk.);

there are interesting remarks upon the phosphorus of the eyes in a

paper by Schultz, contained in Goethe’s Morphology. Examples of men

seeing at night, so that their eyes lighted up the object, are brought

forward in numbers, but the demonstration certainly demands particular

conditions. The objects of sense form the fourth subject. Here Cesava,

a commentator, inserts the categories of Canade, of which there are

six. The first of these is substance, and of this there are nine kinds:

earth, water, light, air, ether, time, space, soul, understanding. The

fundamental elements of material substances are by Canade regarded as

if they were original atoms, and afterwards aggregates of the same; he

maintains the everlasting nature of atoms, and thus much is adduced

about the union of atoms, by which means motes are also produced. The

second category is that of Quality, and of it there are twenty-four

kinds, viz. 1, colour; 2, taste; 3, smell; 4, tangibility; 5, numbers;

6, size; 7, individuality; 8, conjunction; 9, separation; 10,

priority; 11, posteriority; 12, weight; 13, fluidity; 14, viscidity;

15, sound; 16, intelligence; 17, pleasure; 18, pain; 19, desire; 20,

dislike; 21, will; 22, virtue; 23, vice; 24, a capacity which includes

three different qualities, viz. celerity, elasticity, and power of

imagination. The third category is action; the fourth, association of

qualities; the fifth, distinction; the sixth, is aggregation, and,

according to Canade, this is the last; other writers add negation as

the seventh. This is the manner in which philosophy is regarded by the

Indians.

_c._ The philosophy of Gotama makes doubt the third topic, succeeding

those of the evidence of knowledge, and the subjects of interest to

knowledge. Another topic is regular proof, formal reasoning, or the

perfect syllogism (Nyaya), which consists of five propositions:—1, the

proposition; 2, the reason; 3, the instance; 4, the application; 5, the

conclusion. To take examples:—1. This hill is burning; 2, because it

smokes; 3, what smokes is burning, like a kitchen fire; 4, accordingly

the hill smokes; 5, therefore it is on fire. This is propounded as

syllogisms are with us, but in the manner adopted, the matter which is

in point is propounded first. We should, on the contrary, begin with

the general. This is the ordinary form, and these examples may satisfy

us, yet we shall recapitulate the matter once more.

We have seen that in India the point of main importance is the

soul’s drawing itself within itself, raising itself up into liberty,

or thought, which constitutes itself for itself. This becoming

explicit of soul in the most abstract mode may be called intellectual

substantiality, but here it is not the unity of mind and nature that

is present, but directly the opposite. To mind, the consideration of

nature is only the vehicle of thought or its exercise, which has as

its aim the liberation of mind. Intellectual substantiality is in India

the end, while in Philosophy it is in general the true commencement;

to philosophize is the idealism of making thought, in its own right,

the principle of truth. Intellectual substantiality is the opposite

of the reflection, understanding, and the subjective individuality of

the European. With us it is of importance that I will, know, believe,

think this particular thing according to the grounds that I have for

so doing, and in accordance with my own free will; and upon this

an infinite value is set. Intellectual substantiality is the other

extreme from this; it is that in which all the subjectivity of the “I”

is lost; for it everything objective has become vanity, there is for

it no objective truth, duty or right, and thus subjective vanity is

the only thing left. The point of interest is to reach intellectual

substantiality in order to drown in it that subjective vanity with all

its cleverness and reflection. This is the advantage of arriving at

this point of view.

The defect in such a view is that because intellectual substantiality,

while represented as end and aim for the subject, as a condition that

has to be produced in the interest of the subject, even though it be

most objective, is yet only quite abstractly objective; and hence the

essential form of objectivity is wanting to it. That intellectual

substantiality that thus remaining in abstraction, has as its

existence the subjective soul alone. Just as in empty vanity, where

the subjective power of negation alone remains, everything disappears,

this abstraction of intellectual substantiality only signifies

an escape into what is empty and without determination, wherein

everything vanishes. Therefore what remains to be done is to force

forward the real ground of the inwardly self-forming and determining

objectivity—the eternal form within itself, which is what men call

Thought. Just as this Thought in the first place, as subjective, is

mine, because I think, but in the second place is universality which

comprehends intellectual substantiality, it is likewise in the third

place forming activity, the principle of determination. This higher

kind of objectivity that unfolds itself, alone gives a place to the

particular content, allows it to have free scope and receives it

into itself. If in the Oriental view, the particular shakes and is

destined to fall, it still has its place grounded on thought. It is

able to root itself in itself, it is able to stand firm, and this is

the hard European understanding. Such Eastern ideas tend to destroy

it, but it is preserved active in the soil of thought; it cannot exist

when regarded as independent, but must exist only as a moment in the

whole system. In the Eastern Philosophy we have also discovered a

definite content, which is brought under our consideration; but the

consideration is destitute of thought or system because it comes

from above and is outside of the unity. On that side there stands

intellectual substantiality, on this side it appears dry and barren;

the particular thus only has the dead form of simple reason and

conclusion, such as we find in the Scholastics. Based on the ground of

thought, on the other hand, the particular may receive its dues; it may

be regarded and grasped as a moment in the whole organization. The Idea

has not become objective in the Indian Philosophy; hence the external

and objective has not been comprehended in accordance with the Idea.

This is the deficiency in Orientalism.

The true, objective ground of thought finds its basis in the real

freedom of the subject; the universal or substantial must itself have

objectivity. Because thought is this universal, the ground of the

substantial and likewise “I”—thought is the implicit and exists as

the free subject—the universal has immediate existence and actual

presence; it is not only an end or condition to be arrived at, but the

absolute character is objective. It is this principle that we find in

the Greek world, and the object of our further consideration is its

development. The universal first appears as quite abstract, and as such

it confronts the concrete world; but its value is both for the ground

of the concrete world and for that which is implicit. It is not a

beyond, for the value of the present lies in the fact that it exists in

the implicit; or that which is implicit, the universal, is the truth of

present objects.

PART ONE

GREEK PHILOSOPHY

INTRODUCTION

THE name of Greece strikes home to the hearts of men of education in

Europe, and more particularly is this so with us Germans. Europeans

have taken their religion, the life to come, the far-off land, from a

point somewhat further off than Greece—they took it from the East, and

more especially from Syria. But the here, the present, art and science,

that which in giving liberty to our spiritual life, gives it dignity as

it likewise bestows upon it ornament, we know to have proceeded from

Greece either directly or indirectly—through the circuitous road of

Rome. The latter of these two ways was the earlier form in which this

culture came to us; it also came from the formerly universal church

which derived its origin as such from Rome, and has retained its speech

even until now. The sources of authority in addition to the Latin

Gospels have been the Fathers. Our law, too, boasts of deriving its

most perfect forms from Rome. Teutonic strength of mind has required

to pass through the hard discipline of the church and law which came

to us from Rome, and to be kept in check; it is in this way that the

European character first obtained its pliability and capacity for

freedom. Thus it was after European manhood came to be at home with

itself and to look upon the present, that the historical and that which

is of foreign derivation was given. When man began to be at home with

himself, he turned to the Greeks to find enjoyment in it. Let us leave

the Latin and the Roman to the church and to jurisprudence. Higher,

freer philosophic science, as also the beauty of our untrammelled art,

the taste for, and love of the same, we know to have taken their root

in Greek life and to have created therefrom their spirit. If we were to

have an aspiration, it would be for such a land and such conditions.

But what makes us specially at home with the Greeks is that they

made their world their home; the common spirit of homeliness unites

us both. In ordinary life we like best the men and families that are

homely and contented in themselves, not desiring what is outside and

above them, and so it is with the Greeks. They certainly received the

substantial beginnings of their religion, culture, their common bonds

of fellowship, more or less from Asia, Syria and Egypt; but they have

so greatly obliterated the foreign nature of this origin, and it is

so much changed, worked upon, turned round, and altogether made so

different, that what they, as we, prize, know, and love in it, is

essentially their own. For this reason, in the history of Greek life,

when we go further back and seem constrained so to go back, we find

we may do without this retrogression and follow within the world and

manners of the Greeks, the beginnings, the germination and the progress

of art and science up to their maturity, even seeing the origin of

their decay—and this completely comprehended within their own range.

For their spiritual development requires that which is received or

foreign, as matter or stimulus only; in such they have known and borne

themselves as men that were free. The form which they have given to the

foreign principle is this characteristic breath of spirituality, the

spirit of freedom and of beauty which can in the one aspect be regarded

as form, but which in another and higher sense is simply substance.

They have thus not only themselves created the substantial in their

culture and made their existence their own, but they have also held

in reverence this their spiritual rebirth, which is their real birth.

The foreign origin they have so to speak thanklessly forgotten,

putting it in the background—perhaps burying it in the darkness of

the mysteries which they have kept secret from themselves. They have

not only done this, that is they have not only used and enjoyed all

that they have brought forth and formed, but they have become aware of

and thankfully and joyfully placed before themselves this at-homeness

[Heimathlichkeit] in their whole existence, the ground and origin of

themselves, not merely existing in it, possessing and making use of

it. For their mind, when transformed in this spiritual new birth, is

just the living in their life, and also the becoming conscious of that

life as it has become actual. They represent their existence as an

object apart from themselves, which manifests itself independently and

which in its independence is of value to them; hence they have made for

themselves a history of everything which they have possessed and have

been. Not only have they represented the beginning of the world—that

is, of gods and men, the earth, the heavens, the wind, mountains

and rivers—but also of all aspects of their existence, such as the

introduction of fire and the offerings connected with it, the crops,

agriculture, the olive, the horse, marriage, property, laws, arts,

worship, the sciences, towns, princely races, &c. Of all these it is

pleasingly represented through tales how they have arisen in history as

their own work.

It is in this veritable homeliness, or, more accurately, in the spirit

of homeliness, in this spirit of ideally being-at-home-with-themselves

in their physical, corporate, legal, moral and political existence; it

is in the beauty and the freedom of their character in history, making

what they are to be also a sort of Mnemosyne with them, that the kernel

of thinking liberty rests; and hence it was requisite that Philosophy

should arise amongst them. Philosophy is being at home with self, just

like the homeliness of the Greek; it is man’s being at home in his

mind, at home with himself. If we are at home with the Greeks, we must

be at home more particularly in their Philosophy; not, however, simply

as it is with them, for Philosophy is at home with itself, and we have

to do with Thought, with what is most specially ours, and with what is

free from all particularity. The development and unfolding of thought

has taken place with them from its earliest beginning, and in order to

comprehend their Philosophy we may remain with them without requiring

to seek for further and external influences.

But we must specify more particularly their character and point of

view. The Greeks have a starting-point in history as truly as they have

arisen from out of themselves: this starting-point, comprehended in

thought, is the oriental substantiality of the natural unity between

the spiritual and the natural. To start from the self, to live in the

self, is the other extreme of abstract subjectivity, when it is still

empty, or rather has made itself to be empty; such is pure formalism,

the abstract principle of the modern world. The Greeks stand between

both these extremes in the happy medium; this therefore is the medium

of beauty, seeing that it is both natural and spiritual, but yet

that the spiritual still remains the governing, determining subject.

Mind immersed in nature is in substantial unity with it, and in so

far as it is consciousness, it is essentially sensuous perception:

as subjective consciousness it is certainly form-giving though it is

devoid of measure. For the Greeks, the substantial unity of nature and

spirit was a fundamental principle, and thus being in the possession

and knowledge of this, yet not being overwhelmed in it, but having

retired into themselves, they have avoided the extreme of formal

subjectivity, and are still in unity with themselves. Thus it is a

free subject which still possesses that original unity in content,

essence and substratum, and fashions its object into beauty. The stage

reached by Greek consciousness is the stage of beauty. For beauty is

the ideal; it is the thought which is derived from Mind, but in such a

way that the spiritual individuality is not yet explicit as abstract

subjectivity that has then in itself to perfect its existence into a

world of thought. What is natural and sensuous still pertains to this

subjectivity, but yet the natural form has not equal dignity and rank

with the other, nor is it predominant as is the case in the East.

The principle of the spiritual now stands first in rank, and natural

existence has no further value for itself, in its existent forms,

being the mere expression of the Mind shining through, and having been

reduced to be the vehicle and form of its existence. Mind, however,

has not yet got itself as a medium whereby it can represent itself in

itself, and from which it can form its world.

Thus free morality could and necessarily did find a place in Greece,

for the spiritual substance of freedom was here the principle of

morals, laws and constitutions. Because the natural element is,

however, still contained in it, the form taken by the morality of

the state is still affected by what is natural; the states are

small individuals in their natural condition, which could not unite

themselves into one whole. Since the universal does not exist in

independent freedom, that which is spiritual still is limited. In

the Greek world what is potentially and actually eternal is realized

and brought to consciousness through Thought; but in such a way that

subjectivity confronts it in a determination which is still accidental,

because it is still essentially related to what is natural; and in this

we find the reason as promised above, for the fact that in Greece the

few alone are free.

The measureless quality of substance in the East is brought, by

means of the Greek mind, into what is measurable and limited; it

is clearness, aim, limitation of forms, the reduction of what is

measureless, and of infinite splendour and riches, to determinateness

and individuality. The riches of the Greek world consist only of an

infinite quantity of beautiful, lovely and pleasing individualities

in the serenity which pervades all existence; those who are greatest

amongst the Greeks are the individualities, the connoisseurs in art,

poetry, song, science, integrity and virtue. If the serenity of the

Greeks, their beautiful gods, statues, and temples, as well as their

serious work, their institutions and acts, may seem—compared to the

splendour and sublimity, the colossal forms of oriental imagination,

the Egyptian buildings of Eastern kingdoms—to be like child’s play,

this is the case yet more with the thought that comes into existence

here. Such thought puts a limit on this wealth of individualities as on

the oriental greatness, and reduces it into its one simple soul, which,

however, is in itself the first source of the opulence of a higher

ideal world, of the world of Thought.

“From out of thy passions, oh, man,” exclaimed an ancient, “thou

hast derived the materials for thy gods,” just as the Easterns, and

especially the Indians, did from the elements, powers and forms of

Nature. One may add, “out of Thought thou takest the element and

material for God.” Thus Thought is the ground from which God comes

forth, but it is not Thought in its commencement that constitutes the

first principle from which all culture must be grasped. It is quite the

other way. In the beginning, thought comes forth as altogether poor,

abstract, and of a content which is meagre in comparison to that given

to his subject by the oriental; for as immediate, the beginning is

just in the form of nature, and this it shares with what is oriental.

Because it thus reduces the content of the East to determinations which

are altogether poor, these thoughts are scarcely worth observation on

our part, since they are not yet proper thoughts, neither being in the

form of, or determined as thought, but belonging really to Nature.

Thus Thought is the Absolute, though not as Thought. That is, we have

always two things to distinguish, the universal or the Notion, and

the reality of this universal, for the question here arises as to

whether the reality is itself Thought or Nature. We find in the fact

that reality at first has still the immediate form and is only Thought

potentially, the reason for commencing with the Greeks and from the

natural philosophy of the Ionic school.

As regards the external and historical condition of Greece at this

time, Greek philosophy commences in the sixth century before Christ in

the time of Cyrus, and in the period of decline in the Ionic republics

in Asia Minor. Just because this world of beauty which raised itself

into a higher kind of culture went to pieces, Philosophy arose. Crœsus

and the Lydians first brought Ionic freedom into jeopardy; later on the

Persians were those who destroyed it altogether, so that the greater

part of the inhabitants sought other spots and created colonies, more

particularly in the West. At the time of the decline in Ionic towns,

the other Greece ceased to be under its ancient lines of kings; the

Pelopideans and the other, and for the most part foreign, princely

races had passed away. Greece had in many ways come into touch with

the outside world and the Greek inhabitants likewise sought within

themselves for a bond of fellowship. The patriarchal life was past, and

in many states it came to be a necessity that they should constitute

themselves as free, organized and regulated by law. Many individuals

come into prominence who were no more rulers of their fellow-citizens

by descent, but who were by means of talent, power of imagination and

scientific knowledge, marked out and reverenced, and such individuals

came into many different relations with their fellows. Part of them

became advisers, but their advice was frequently not followed; part

of them were hated and despised by their fellow-citizens, and they

drew back from public affairs; others became violent, if not fierce

governors of the other citizens, and others again finally became the

administrators of liberty.

_The Seven Sages_. Amongst these men just characterized, the seven

sages—in modern times excluded from the history of Philosophy—take

their place. In as far as they may be reckoned as milestones in the

history of Philosophy, something about their character should, in the

commencement of Philosophy, be shortly said. They came into prominence,

partly as taking part in the battles of the Ionic towns, partly as

expatriated, and partly as individuals of distinction in Greece. The

names of the seven are given differently: usually, however, as Thales,

Solon, Periander, Cleobulus, Chilon, Bias, Pittacus. Hermippus in

Diogenes Laertius (1, 42) specifies seventeen, and, amongst these,

various people pick out seven in various ways. According to Diogenes

Laertius (1, 41) Dicæarchus, who came still earlier in history, only

names four, and these are placed amongst the seven by all; they are

Thales, Bias, Pittacus and Solon. Besides these, Myson, Anacharsis,

Acusilaus, Epimenides, Pherecydes, &c., are mentioned. Dicæarchus

in Diogenes (1, 40), says of them that they are neither wise men

(_σοφούς_) nor philosophers, but men of understanding (_συνετξύς_) and

law-givers; this judgment has become the universal one and is held

to be just. They come in a period of transition amongst the Greeks—a

transition from a patriarchal system of kings into one of law or force.

The fame of the wisdom of these men depends, on the one hand, on the

fact that they grasped the practical essence of consciousness, or the

consciousness of universal morality as it is in and for itself, giving

expression to it in the form of moral maxims and in part in civil laws,

making these actual in the state; on the other hand it depends on

their having, in theoretic form, expressed the same in witty sayings.

Some of these sayings could not merely be regarded as thoughtful or

good reflections, but in so far, as philosophic and speculative; they

have a comprehensive, universal significance ascribed to them, which,

however, does not explain them. These men have not really made science

and Philosophy their aim; it is expressly said of Thales that it was

in the latter part of his life that he first took to Philosophy. What

had relation to politics appeared most frequently; they were practical

men, men of affairs, but not in our sense of the word; with us

practical activity devotes itself to a special line of administration

or to a particular business, or to economics, &c. They lived in

democratic states and thus shared the responsibilities of the general

administration and rule. They were not statesmen like the great Greek

personalities, like Miltiades, Themistocles, Pericles and Demosthenes,

but they were statesmen in a time when safety, preservation and,

indeed, the whole well-being, disposition and well nigh the very

foundation of civic life were in question; and certainly when this was

so with the foundations of legally established institutions.

Thales and Bias thus appear as the representatives of the Ionic

towns. Herodotus (I. 169-171) speaks of both, and says of Thales

that he advised even before the overthrow of the Ionians (apparently

through Crœsus), that they should constitute a supreme council (_ἓν

βουλευτήριον_) in Teos, in the centre of the Ionian people, and thus

make a federal state with a capital and principal federal town, so that

they might still remain separate nations (_δῆμοι_) as before. However,

they did not follow this advice, and this isolated and weakened them,

and the result was their conquest; it has always been a difficult thing

for the Greeks to give up their individuality. Later on, when Harpagus,

the general of Cyrus who accomplished their overthrow, pressed in upon

them, the Ionians took no better the most excellent advice of Bias of

Priene, given them at the decisive moment when they were assembled at

Panionium, “to go in a common fleet to Sardinia, there to found an

Ionic state. By so doing they would escape servitude, be happy, and,

inhabiting the largest island, subdue the others. But if they remained

in Ionia there was no hope of liberty to be seen for them.” Herodotus

gives his corroboration to this advice—“If they had followed him they

would have been the happiest of Greeks.” Such things take place, but

through force and not voluntarily.

We find the other sages under similar conditions. Solon was an

administrator in Athens, and thereby became famous; few men have

attained the honourable position of being a law-giver. Solon shares it

with Moses, Lycurgus, Zaleucus, Numa, &c., alone. No individuals can be

found amongst Teutonic peoples who possess the distinction of being the

law-givers of their people. Nowadays there can be law-givers no longer;

legal institutions and regulations are in modern times always ready to

hand, and the little that can still be done by means of the law-giver

and by law-making assemblies is simply the further modification of

details or making very insignificant additions. What is dealt with is

the compilation, wording and perfecting of the particular only; and

yet neither Solon and Lycurgus did more than respectively bring the

Ionic mind and the Doric character—being that which had been given

them and which was implicitly present—into the form of consciousness,

and obviate the temporary inconvenience of disorder through effective

laws. Solon was thus not a perfect statesman; this is manifest from

the sequel of his history. A constitution which allowed Pisistratus

in Solon’s own time to raise himself into the Tyranny, showing itself

to be so destitute of strength and organization that it could not

prevent its own overthrow, (and by what a power!) manifests some inward

want. This may seem strange, for a constitution must be able to afford

resistance to such an attack. But let us see what Pisistratus did.

What the so-called tyrants really were, is most clearly shown by the

relation borne by Solon to Pisistratus. When orderly institutions and

laws were necessary to the Greeks, we find law-givers and regents of

states appearing, who laid down laws, and ruled accordingly. The law,

as universal, seemed and still seems now to the individual to be

force, inasmuch as he does not have regard to or comprehend the law:

it applies first to all the people, and then only, to the individual;

it is essential first of all to use constraint until the individual

attains discernment, and law to him becomes his law, and ceases to be

something foreign. Most of the law-givers and administrators of states

undertook themselves to constrain the people and to be their tyrants.

In states where they did not undertake it, it had to be done by other

individuals, for it was essential. According to Diogenes Laertius’

account (I. 48-50), we find Solon—whom his friends advised to secure

the mastery for himself since the people held to him (_προσεῖχον_), and

would have liked to see him become tyrant—repulse them, and try to

prevent any such occurrence, when he became suspicious of Pisistratus’

intentions. What he did when he remarked upon the attitude of

Pisistratus, was to come into the assembly of the people, and tell them

the design of Pisistratus, accoutred in armour and shield; this was

then unusual, for Thucydides (1, 6) makes it a distinguishing feature

between Greeks and Barbarians, that the former, and pre-eminently the

Athenians, put aside their arms in time of peace. He said, “Men of

Athens, I am wiser than some and braver than others: I am wiser than

those who do not see the deceit of Pisistratus, braver than those

who certainly see it, but say nothing from fear.” As he could not do

anything, he left Athens. Pisistratus is said to have then written a

most honourable letter to Solon in his absence, which Diogenes (I.

53, 54) has preserved for us, inviting him to return to Athens, and

live with him as a free citizen. “Not only am I not the only one of

the Greeks to have seized the tyranny, but I have not taken anything

which was not my due, for I am of the race of Codrus. I have only taken

back to myself what the Athenians swore they would preserve to Codrus

and his race, and yet took from them. Moreover I am doing no evil

toward gods and men, but as thou hast given laws to the Athenians, I

take care (_ἐπιτροπῶ_) that in civil life they shall carry them out

(_πολιτεύειν_.) His son Hippias did the same. And these relations are

carried out better than they would be in a democracy, for I allow

nobody to do evil (_ὑβρίζειν_), and as Tyrant, I lay claim to no more

(_πλεῖόν τι φέρομαι_) than such consideration and respect and specified

gifts (_τὰ ῥητὰ γέρα_) as would have been offered to the kings in

earlier times. Every Athenian gives the tenth part of his revenue,

not to me, but towards the cost of the public offering, and besides

for the commonwealth, and for use in case of war. I am not angry that

thou hast disclosed my project. For thou didst it more out of love to

the people than hate against me, and because thou didst not know how I

would conduct my rule. For if thou hadst known this, thou wouldst have

submitted to it willingly, and wouldst not have taken flight;” and so

he goes on. Solon, in the answer given by Diogenes, (I. 66, 67) says,

that he “has not a personal grudge against Pisistratus, and he must

call him the best of tyrants; but to turn back does not befit him. For

he made equality of rights essential in the Athenian constitution, and

himself refused the tyranny. By his return he would condone what was

done by Pisistratus.” The rule of Pisistratus accustomed the Athenians

to the laws of Solon, and brought them into usage, so that after this

usage came to be general, supremacy was superfluous; his sons were

hence driven out of Athens, and for the first time the constitution of

Solon upheld itself. Solon undoubtedly gave the laws, but it is another

thing to make such regulations effectual in the manners, habits and

life of a people. What was separate in Solon and Pisistratus, we find

united in Periander in Corinth, and Pittacus in Mitilene.

This may be enough about the outward life of the seven sages. They are

also famed for the wisdom of the sayings which have been preserved to

us; these sayings seem in great measure, however, to be superficial

and hackneyed. The reason for this is found in the fact that, to

our reflection, general propositions are quite usual; much in the

Proverbs of Solomon seems to us to be superficial and commonplace

for the same reason. But it is quite another thing to bring to the

ordinary conception for the first time this same universal in the

form of universality. Many distichs are ascribed to Solon which we

still retain; their object is to express in maxims general obligations

towards the gods, the family and the country. Diogenes (I. 58) tells us

that Solon said: “Laws are like a spider’s web; the small are caught,

the great tear it up: speech is the image of action,” &c. Such sayings

are not philosophy, but general reflections, the expression of moral

duties, maxims, necessary determinations. The wisdom of the sages is

of this kind; many sayings are insignificant, but many seem to be more

insignificant than they are. For instance, Chilon says: “Stand surety,

and evil awaits thee” (_ἐγγύα, πάρα δ̓ ἄτα_). On the one hand this is

quite a common rule of life and prudence, but the sceptics gave to

this proposition a much higher universal significance, which is also

accredited to Chilon. This sense is, “Ally thyself closely to any

particular thing, and unhappiness will fall upon thee.” The sceptics

adduced this proposition independently, as demonstrating the principle

of scepticism, which is that nothing is finite and definite in and for

itself, being only a fleeting, vacillating phase which does not last.

Cleobulus says, _μέτρον ἄριστον_, another _μηδὲν ἄγαν_, and this has

likewise a universal significance which is that limitation, the _πέρας_

of Plato as opposed to the _ἄπειρον_—-the self-determined as opposed

to undetermined—is what is best; and thus it is that in Being limit or

measure is the highest determination.

One of the most celebrated sayings is that of Solon in his conversation

with Crœsus, which Herodotus (I. 30-33) has in his own way given us

very fully. The result arrived at is this:—“Nobody is to be esteemed

happy before his death.” But the noteworthy point in this narrative

is that from it we can get a better idea of the standpoint of Greek

reflection in the time of Solon. We see that happiness is put forward

as the highest aim, that which is most to be desired and which is the

end of man; before Kant, morality, as eudæmonism, was based on the

determination of happiness. In Solon’s sayings there is an advance over

the sensuous enjoyment which is merely pleasant to the feelings. Let us

ask what happiness is and what there is within it for reflection, and

we find that it certainly carries with it a certain satisfaction to the

individual, of whatever sort it be—whether obtained through physical

enjoyment or spiritual—the means of obtaining which lie in men’s own

hands. But the fact is further to be observed that not every sensuous,

immediate pleasure can be laid hold of, for happiness contains a

reflection on the circumstances as a whole, in which we have the

principle to which the principle of isolated enjoyment must give way.

Eudæmonism signifies happiness as a condition for the whole of life;

it sets up a totality of enjoyment which is a universal and a rule

for individual enjoyment, in that it does not allow it to give way to

what is momentary, but restrains desires and sets a universal standard

before one’s eyes. If we contrast it with Indian philosophy, we find

eudæmonism to be antagonistic to it. There the liberation of the soul

from what is corporeal, the perfect abstraction, the necessity that the

soul shall, in its simplicity, be at home with itself, is the final

end of man. With the Greeks the opposite is the case; the satisfaction

there is also satisfaction of the soul, but it is not attained through

flight, abstraction, withdrawal within self, but through satisfaction

in the present, concrete satisfaction in relation to the surroundings.

The stage of reflection that we reach in happiness, stands midway

between mere desire and the other extreme, which is right as right and

duty as duty. In happiness, the individual enjoyment has disappeared;

the form of universality is there, but the universal does not yet come

forth on its own account, and this is the issue of the conversation

between Crœsus and Solon. Man as thinking, is not solely engrossed

with present enjoyment, but also with the means for obtaining that to

come. Crœsus points out to him these means, but Solon still objects

to the statement of the question of Crœsus. For in order that any one

should be conceived of as happy, we must await his death, for happiness

depends upon his condition to the end, and upon the fact that his

death should be a pious one and be consistent with his higher destiny.

Because the life of Crœsus had not yet expired, Solon could not deem

him happy. And the history of Crœsus bears evidence that no momentary

state deserves the name of happiness. This edifying history holds in

its embrace the whole standpoint of the reflection of that time.

_Division of the Subject_. In the consideration of Greek philosophy we

have now to distinguish further three important periods:—in the first

place the period from Thales to Aristotle; secondly, Greek philosophy

in the Roman world; thirdly, the Neo-platonic philosophy.

1. We begin with thought, as it is in a quite abstract, natural or

sensuous form, and we proceed from this to the Idea as determined. This

first period shows the beginning of philosophic thought, and goes on to

its development and perfection as a totality of knowledge in itself;

this takes place in Aristotle as representing the unity of what has

come before. In Plato there is just such a union of what came earlier,

but it is not worked out, for he only represents the Idea generally.

The Neo-platonists have been called eclectics, and Plato was said to

have brought about the unity; they were not, however, eclectics, but

they had a conscious insight into the necessity for uniting these

philosophies.

2. After the concrete Idea was reached, it came forth as if in

opposites, perfecting and developing itself. The second period is that

in which science breaks itself up into different systems. A one-sided

principle is carried through the whole conception of the world; each

side is in itself formed into a totality, and stands in the relation

of one extreme to another. The philosophical systems of Stoicism

and Epicureanism are such; scepticism forms the negative to their

dogmatism, while the other philosophies disappear.

3. The third period is the affirmative, the withdrawal of the

opposition into an ideal world or a world of thought, a divine world.

This is the Idea developed into totality, which yet lacks subjectivity

as the infinite being-for-self.

SECTION ONE

FIRST PERIOD, FROM THALES TO ARISTOTLE

IN this first period we shall again make three divisions:—

1. The first extends from Thales to Anaxagoras, from abstract

thought which is in immediate determinateness to the thought of the

self-determining Thought. Here a beginning is made with the absolutely

simple, in which the earliest methods of determination manifest

themselves as attempts, until the time of Anaxagoras; he determines

the true as the _νοῦς_, and as active thought which no longer is in a

determinate character, but which is self-determining.

2. The second division comprises the Sophists, Socrates, and the

followers of Socrates. Here the self-determining thought is conceived

of as present and concrete in me; that constitutes the principle of

subjectivity if not also of infinite subjectivity, for thought first

shows itself here only partly as abstract principle and partly as

contingent subjectivity.

3. The third division, which deals with Plato and Aristotle, is found

in Greek science where objective thought, the Idea, forms itself into

a whole. The concrete, in itself determining Thought, is, with Plato,

the still abstract Idea, but in the form of universality; while with

Aristotle that Idea was conceived of as the self-determining, or in the

determination of its efficacy or activity.