A History of Philosophy

George Henry Lewes, born in London on April 18, 1817, was the

grandson of a famous Covent Garden comedian. As an actor,

philosopher, novelist, critic, dramatist, journalist, man of

science, Lewes played many parts in the life of his time, and some

of them he played very well. George Eliot owed him a great deal; he

turned her genius away from pure speculation, and directed it to

its true province--fiction. Lewes was, in fact, an excellent

critic, and it is by his splendid critical work, the "Biographical

History of Philosophy," that he is now best remembered. In this

remarkable book, which appeared in 1845-46, Lewes the novelist and

the journalist collaborates with Lewes the philosopher and man of

science. He has the rare art of making an abstruse subject clear

and attractive; he does not give a dry summary of the ideas of the

great thinkers, but depicts the living man and relates his way of

life to his way of thinking. The result is that in his hands

metaphysic becomes as interesting as history did in the hands of

Macaulay.

_I.--The Early Thinkers_

It is the object of the present work to show how philosophy became a

positive science; to indicate by what methods the human mind was enabled

to conquer its present modicum of certain knowledge. The boldest and the

grandest speculations came first. Man needed the stimulus of some higher

reward than that of merely tracing the laws of phenomena. Nothing but a

solution of the mystery of the universe could content him. Astronomy was

derived from astrology: chemistry from alchemy, and physiology from

auguries. The position occupied by philosophy in the history of mankind

is that of the great initiative to positive science. It was the forlorn

hope of mankind, and though it perished in its efforts, it did not

perish without having led the way to victory.

Thales, who was born at Miletus, in Asia Minor, and flourished in 585

B.C., is justly considered the father of Greek speculation. The step he

took was small but decisive. He opened the physiological inquiry into

the constitution of the universe. Seeing around him constant

transformations--birth and death, change of shape, of size, and of mode

of being, he could not regard any one of these variable states of

existence as existence itself. He therefore asked, What is the beginning

of things? Finding that all things were nourished by moisture, he

declared that moisture was the principle of everything. He was mistaken,

of course, but he was the first man to furnish a formula from which to

reason deductively.

Anaximenes (550 B.C.) pursued the method of Thales, but he was not

convinced of the truth of his master's doctrine. He thought that the air

was the prime, universal element, from which all things were produced

and into which all things were resolved. Diogenes of Apollonia adopted

the idea of Anaximenes, but gave a deeper significance to it. The older

thinker conceived the vital air as a kind of soul; the younger man

conceived the soul as a kind of air--an invisible force, permeating and

actuating everything. This attribution of intelligence to the primal

power or matter was certainly a progress in speculation; but another

line of thought was struck out by Anaximander of Miletus, who had been a

friend of Thales. He was passionately addicted to mathematics, and a

great many inventions are ascribed to him; among others, the sun-dial

and the geographical map.

In his view, any one single thing could not be all things, and in his

famous saying, "The infinite is the origin of all things," he introduced

into metaphysics an abstract conception in place of the inadequate

concrete principles of Thales and his disciples. Pythagoras was a

contemporary of Anaximander, and, like him, one of the great founders of

mathematics. He held that the only permanent reality in the cosmos was

the principle of order and harmony, which prevented the universe from

becoming a blank, unintelligible chaos; and he expressed this idea in

his mystic doctrine: "Numbers are the cause of the material existence of

things." The movement which he spread by means of a vast, secret

confraternity ended, however, in a barren symbolism, and it is

impossible to trace what relation his strange theories of the

transmigration of souls and the music of the spheres have to his general

system of thought.

Far more influence on the progress of speculation was exercised by

Xenophanes of Colophon. Driven by the Persian invasion of 546 B.C. to

earn his living as a wandering minstrel, he developed the ideas of

Anaximander, and founded the school of great philosophic poets, to which

Parmenides, Empedocles and Lucretius belong. He is the grand monotheist,

and he has published his doctrines in his verses:

There is one God alone, the greatest of spirits and mortals,

Neither in body to mankind resembling, neither in ideas.

Shelley's line: "The One remains, the Many change and pass," sums up the

teaching of the line of thinkers which culminated in Plato. In their

view, knowledge derived from the senses was fallacious because it

touched only the diverse and changing appearances of things; absolute

knowledge of the one abiding spiritual reality could, they held, only be

obtained by the exercise of spiritual faculty of reason, which, unlike

the animal power of sense, is the same in all men. One of the

philosophers of this school, Zeno of Elea, was the inventor of the

dialectic method of logic, which Socrates and Plato used with so

tremendous an effect.

Anaxagoras, however, attempted to reconcile the evidence of the sense

with the dictates of the reason. He was the first philosopher to settle

in Athens, and Pericles, Euripides, and Socrates were among his pupils.

He was extraordinarily modern in many of his ideas. He held that the

matter of knowledge was derived through the senses, but that reason

regulated and verified it, and he carried this dualism into his

conception of the universe, which he represented as a manifestation of a

Divine intelligence, acting through invariable laws, but in no way

confused with the matter acted on.

His successor, Democritus, adopted his theory of the origin of

knowledge, and by applying it to the problem of the One and the Many,

produced the most striking of ancient anticipations of modern science.

He regarded the world as something made up of invisible particles, each

absolutely similar to the other; these formed the essential unity which

could be grasped only by the reason, but by their various combinations

and arrangements they brought about the apparent multiplicity of objects

which the senses perceived. Such was the foundation of the atomic theory

of Democritus. He conceived the atom as a centre of force, and not as a

particle having weight and material qualities. As, however, his

hypothesis was purely a metaphysical one, it did not lead to any of the

discoveries which have followed on the establishment of the modern

scientific theory, which was arrived at in a different way, and has a

different signification. Democritus also threw out in vague outline the

idea of gravitation. But this was not science: it was guess-work; it

afforded no ground on which the fabric of verified knowledge could be

erected, and no sure method of obtaining this knowledge.

_II.--The School of Socrates_

It was against the vain and premature hypotheses of the physiologists of

his day that the greatest and noblest intellect in Greece revolted.

Socrates was the knight-errant of philosophy.

It was his confessed aim and purpose to withdraw the mind from the

contemplation of the phenomena of nature, and fix it on its own

phenomena. "I have not leisure for physical speculations," he said, with

characteristic irony, "and I will tell you why: I am not yet able,

according to the Delphic inscription, to _know myself_, and it seems to

me very ridiculous, while ignorant of myself, to inquire into what I am

not concerned in." Weary of disputes about the origin of the universe,

he turned to the one field in which the current method of abstract

reasoning could be fruitfully applied--the field of ethics.

Living in an age of wild sophistry, he endeavoured to steady and

enlighten the conscience of men by establishing right principles of

conduct. His method of proceeding by definitions and analogy has been

misapplied, but in his hands it was a powerful instrument in discovering

and marking out a new field of inquiry. His religious genius, the ideal

character of his ethics, and the heroic character of his life, have been

his great titles to fame, but it is his method which gives him his high

position in the history of philosophy.

The method of Socrates was adopted and enlarged by the most famous of

all ancient writers. Aristocles, surnamed Plato (the broad-browed), was

a brilliant young Athenian aristocrat who turned from poetry to

philosophy on meeting, in his twentieth year, with Socrates. After

travelling abroad in search of knowledge, he returned to Athens and

founded his world-renowned Academy there in 387 B.C. With vast learning

and puissant method, he created an influence which is not yet extinct

Plato was the culminating point of Greek philosophy.

In his works all the various and conflicting tendencies of preceding

eras were collected under one method. This method was doubtless the

method of Socrates, but much extended and improved. Socrates relied on

definitions and analogical reasoning as the principles of investigation.

Plato used these arts, but he added to them the more scientific

processes of analysis, generalisation, and classification.

In regard to his system of thought, Plato was a realist. He believed

that ideas have a real existence, and that material things are only

copies of the realities existing in the ideal world. He held that

beauty, goodness, and wisdom are spiritual realities, from which all

things beautiful, good, and wise derive their existence.

In his philosophy the universe is divided into the celestial region of

ideas and the mundane region of material phenomena, answering to the

modern conception of heaven and earth. As the phenomena of matter are

but copies of ideas (not, as some suppose, the bodily realisation of

them), there arises a question: How do ideas become matter? Plato gives

two different explanations. In the "Republic" he says that God, instead

of perpetually creating individual things, created a distinct type

(idea) for each thing, and from this type all objects of the class are

made. But in a later work, the "Timaeus," Plato takes another view of the

origin of the world. Types are conceived as having existed from all

eternity, and God, in fashioning cosmos out of chaos, fashioned it after

the model of these eternal types.

Plato's conception of heaven and earth as two distinct regions is

completed by his conception of the double nature of the soul; or,

rather, of two souls, one rational and the other sensitive. The

sensitive soul awakens the divine reminiscences of the rational soul;

and the rational soul, by detecting the One in the Many, preserves man

from the scepticism inevitably resulting from mere sense-knowledge.

Aristotle, who was born in 384 B.C., was Plato's pupil. He, however,

completely broke away from his master's theory. He maintained that

individual objects alone exist. But if only individual objects exist,

only by the senses can they be known; and if we have only

sense-knowledge, how can we arrive at the general truths on which both

philosophy and science are founded? This was the problem which had led

Plato to claim for ideas, or types of general truths, a higher origin

than the intermittent and varying data of the senses.

Aristotle held that it could be solved in a natural way without the

conception of an ideal world. In his view, ideas were obtained by

induction. Sensation is the basis of all knowledge. But we have another

faculty besides that of sensation; we have memory. Having perceived many

objects, we remember our perceptions, and this enables us to discern

wherein things differ and wherein they agree. Then, by means of the art

of induction, we arrive at ideas. Aristotle's theory of induction is

clearly explained by him: "Experience furnishes the principles of every

science. Thus astronomy is grounded on observation. For if we were to

observe properly the phenomena of the heavens, we might demonstrate the

laws which regulate them. The same applies to other sciences." Had he

always held before his eyes this conception of science, he would have

anticipated Bacon--he would have been the Father of Positive Science.

But he could not confine himself to experience, as there was not

sufficient experience accumulated in his age from which to generalise

with any effect. So he turned to logic as an instrument for

investigating the mystery of existence, and by bringing physics and

metaphysics together again, he paved the way for a new era--the era of

scepticism.

All the wisdom of the ancient world was powerless against the sceptics.

Faith in truth was extinct; faith in human nature was gone; philosophy

was impossible. And, though the influence of Socrates continued to be

felt in the field of ethics, the ethics of the Greeks were at best

narrow and egotistical. What a light was poured upon all questions of

morality by that one divine axiom, "Love your enemy." No Greek ever

attained the sublimity of such a point of view. Still, the progress made

by the Greeks was immense, and they must ever occupy in the history of

humanity an honourable place.

_III.--Philosophy and Science_

Francis Bacon is the father of experimental philosophy. He owes his

title to his method. Many philosophers, ancient and modern, had

cursorily referred to observation and experiment as furnishing the

materials of physical knowledge; but no one before him had attempted to

systematise the true method of discovery.

He begins his great work by examining into the permanent causes of

error, as these were likely to be operative even after the reformation

of science. For this reason he calls them idols, or false appearances

(from the Greek, _eidolon_), and he divides them into four classes: the

idols of the tribe, or the causes of error due to the general defects of

the human mind; the idols of the den, which spring from weaknesses

peculiar to the character of the individual student; the idols of the

forum, which arise out of the intercourse of society and the power that

words sometimes have of governing thought; and, finally, the idols of

the theatre, which men of great learning pursue when they follow the

systems of famous but mistaken thinkers.

After this preliminary discussion, Bacon goes on to describe the methods

of inductive science. The first step consists in preparing a history of

the phenomena to be explained in all their modifications and varieties.

This history must include not merely such facts as spontaneously offer

themselves, but all experiments instituted for the sake of discovery. It

must be composed with great care; the facts should be accurately related

and distinctly arranged, and their authenticity diligently examined;

those that rest on doubtful evidence should not be rejected, but noted

as uncertain, with the grounds of the judgment so formed. This last part

of the method, says Bacon, is very necessary, for facts often appear

incredible only because we are ill-informed, and they cease to seem

marvellous when our knowledge is further extended.

When this record of facts, this "natural history," is completed, an

attempt may then be made to discover, by a comparison of the various

facts, the cause of the phenomena. Here it is of the utmost importance

to bear in mind that all facts have not the same value. There are, as

Bacon points out, twenty-seven species of facts, and he concludes that

in any science where facts cannot be tested by experiment there can be

no conclusive evidence.

Thus it will be seen that Bacon's method was a system of specific rules.

He did not merely tell men to make observations and experiments; he

taught them how observations and experiments ought to be made.

As Bacon was the father of modern science, so Rene Descartes was the

father of modern philosophy. Born in 1596, and perplexed by the movement

of scepticism produced by the Renaissance, the French thinker

endeavoured to find some ground of certainty in the fact that he at

least knew of his own existence. Hence his famous saying: _Cogito, ergo

sum_--"I think, therefore I exist." Consciousness, said he, is the basis

of all knowledge. The process then is simple: examine your

consciousness, and its clear replies will be science. Hence the vital

portion of his system lies in this axiom: "All clear ideas are true."

The fallacy in his system can be briefly exposed. Consciousness is, no

doubt, the ultimate ground of certainty of existence for _me_. But

though I am conscious of all that passes within myself, I am not

conscious of what passes in anything not myself. All that I can possibly

know of anything not myself lies in its effects upon me. Any other ideas

I may have in regard to the outside world are founded only on

inferences, and directly I leave the ground of consciousness for the

region of inference my knowledge becomes questionable.

It was this defect in Cartesianism which Baruch Spinoza, the great

Jewish thinker of Amsterdam, set out to rectify. Spinoza asked himself:

What was the reality which lies beneath all appearance? We see

everywhere transformations perishable and perishing, yet there must be

something beneath which is imperishable and immutable. What is it? In

Spinoza's view, the absolute existence is God. All that exists, exists

in and by God. Taking the words of St. Paul, "In Him we live and move

and have our being," as his motto, he undertook to trace the relations

of the world to God and to man, and those of man to society.

To John Locke, born at Wrington, in Somerset, in 1632, the problem

presented itself in another way. Instead of accepting the validity of

clear ideas, as Descartes and Spinoza did, he adopted the Baconian

method, and opened the inquiry into the origin and formation of ideas.

Separating himself from the philosophers who held that the mind was

capable of arriving at knowledge independent of experience, and from the

sceptics who maintained that the senses were the only channels of

information, he showed that ideas were derived from two

sources--sensation and reflection.

He was succeeded by George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, born at Kilcrin

in Kilkenny, in 1684. He defeated the sceptics on their own ground.

There is nothing in the world, he says, except our own sensations and

ideas. In order to exist for us, things have to be perceived by the

mind; therefore, everything, in order to exist, must exist in the mind

of God. But when Berkeley had proved that matter was figment, David

Hume, born in 1711, came forward and showed that mind was also an

illusion. You know nothing of matter, said Berkeley; you have only

perceptions and the ideas based thereon. You know nothing of mind,

replied Hume; you have only a succession of sensations and ideas.

Against Hume rose up in Germany a famous school of philosophers

beginning with Immanuel Kant, who was born in Prussia in 1724. Kant

attempted to prove that the human reason was not untrustworthy, as Hume

assumed, but limited, and that, within certain bounds, it was capable

of arriving at practical truths. Kant's disciples, however, were not

content with this modest restatement. Taking it too readily for granted

that Hume's objections had been overcome, they proceeded to revive that

unbounded faith in mere speculation which had been the distemper of the

Greek mind. Fichte and Schelling were the first thinkers of note to

attempt again to solve by logic the mystery of the universe.

But their works are now obscured by the achievement of Hegel, who began

to teach at Berlin in 1818. Hegel holds that the real universe is a

universe of ideas to which his philosophy is the key, but, as ideas

realise themselves in space and time, they come within the scope of the

man of science. It is said that all bad German systems of philosophy

when they die come to England. Hegelianism has certainly been very

fashionable in this country, and its influence is still observable in

academic circles.

Auguste Comte is the Bacon of the nineteenth century. It has been his

object to construct a _positive_ philosophy; that is to say, a doctrine

capable of embracing all the sciences, and, with them, all the problems

of social life. He holds that every branch of knowledge passes through

three stages: the supernatural, or fictitious; the metaphysical or

abstract; the positive or scientific. When the positive method is

adopted, then shall we again have one general doctrine, powerful because

general.

The metaphysicians have failed to penetrate to the causes of things, but

the men of science are succeeding in the humbler but far more useful

work of tracing some of the laws that govern the phenomena of nature,

and foreseeing their operations. It is only where the philosophers

started matters capable of _positive_ treatment that any advance has

been made in metaphysics. For the rest, philosophy leaves us in the

nineteenth century at precisely the same point at which we were in the

fifth. Thus is the circle completed.

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