ARISTOTLE
_An unruly pupil--The philosopher's library--The predominance of
Aristotle--Relation to Plato--The highest philosophy--Ideas and
things--The true realism_
Plato before his death bequeathed his Academy to his nephew Speusippus,
who continued its president for eight years; and on his death the
office passed to Xenocrates, who held it for twenty-five years. From
him it passed in succession to Polemo, Crates, Crantor, and others.
Plato was thus the founder of a school or sect of teachers who busied
themselves with commenting, expanding, modifying here and there the
doctrines of the master. Little of their works beyond the names has
been preserved, and indeed we can hardly regret the loss. These men no
doubt did much to popularise the thoughts of their master, and in this
way largely influenced the later development of philosophy; but they
had nothing substantial to add, and so the stern pruning-hook of time
has cut them off from remembrance.
[297]
Aristotle was the son of a Greek physician, member of the colony of
Stagira in Thrace. His father, Nicomachus by name, was a man of such
{173} eminence in his profession as to hold the post of physician to
Amyntas, king of Macedonia, father of Philip the subverter of Greek
freedom. Not only was his father an expert physician, he was also a
student of natural history, and wrote several works on the subject. We
shall find that the fresh element which Aristotle brought to the
Academic philosophy was in a very great measure just that minute
attention to details and keen apprehension of vital phenomena which we
may consider he inherited from his father. He was born 384 B.C., and
on the death of his father, in his eighteenth year, he came to Athens,
and became a student of philosophy under Plato, whose pupil he
continued to be for twenty years,--indeed till the death of the master.
That he, undoubtedly a far greater man than Speusippus or Xenocrates,
should not have been nominated to the succession has been variously
explained; he is said to have been lacking in respect and gratitude to
the master; Plato is said to have remarked of him that he needed the
curb as much as Xenocrates needed the spur. The facts really need no
explanation. The original genius is never sufficiently subordinate and
amenable to discipline. He is apt to be critical, to startle his
easy-going companions with new and seemingly heterodox views, he is the
'ugly duckling' whom all the virtuous and commonplace brood must cackle
{174} at. The Academy, when its great master died, was no place for
Aristotle. He retired to Atarneus, a city of Mysia opposite to Lesbos,
where a friend named Hermias was tyrant, and there he married Hermias'
niece. After staying at Atarneus some three years he was invited by
Philip, now king of Macedon, to undertake the instruction of his son
Alexander, the future conqueror, who was then thirteen years old. He
remained with Alexander for eight years, though of course he could
hardly be regarded as Alexander's tutor during all that time, since
Alexander at a very early age was called to take a part in public
affairs. However a strong friendship was formed between the
philosopher and the young prince, and in after years Alexander loaded
his former master with benefits. Even while on his march of conquest
through Asia he did not forget him, but sent him from every country
through which he passed specimens which might help him in his projected
History of Animals, as well as an enormous sum of money to aid him in
his investigations.
After the death of Philip, Aristotle returned to Athens, and opened a
school of philosophy on his own account in the Lyceum. Here some
authorities tell us he lectured to his pupils while he paced up and
down before them; hence the epithet applied to the school, the
_Peripatetics_. Probably, however, the name is derived from the
'Peripati' or covered {175} walks in the neighbourhood of that temple
in which he taught. He devoted his mornings to lectures of a more
philosophical and technical character; to these only the abler and more
advanced students were admitted. In the afternoons he lectured on
subjects of a more popular kind--rhetoric, the art of politics,
etc.--to larger audiences. Corresponding with this division, he also
was in the habit of classifying his writings as Acroatic or technical,
and Exoteric or popular. He accumulated a large library and museum, to
which he contributed an astonishing number of works of his own, on
every conceivable branch of knowledge.
The after history of Aristotle's library, including the MSS. of his own
works, is interesting and even romantic. Aristotle's successor in the
school was Theophrastus, who added to the library bequeathed him by
Aristotle many works of his own, and others purchased by him.
Theophrastus bequeathed the entire library to Neleus, his friend and
pupil, who, on leaving Athens to reside at Scepsis in the Troad, took
the library with him. There it remained for nearly two hundred years
in possession of the Neleus family, who kept the collection hidden in a
cellar for fear it should be seized to increase the royal library of
Pergamus. In such a situation the works suffered much harm from worms
and damp, till at last (_circa_ 100 B.C.) they were brought out {176}
and sold to one Apellicon, a rich gentleman resident in Athens, himself
a member of the Peripatetic school. In 86 B.C. Sulla, the Roman
dictator, besieged and captured Athens, and among other prizes conveyed
the library of Apellicon to Rome, and thus many of the most important
works of Aristotle for the first time were made known to the Roman and
Alexandrian schools. It is a curious circumstance that the philosopher
whose influence was destined to be paramount for more than a thousand
years in the Christian era, was thus deprived by accident of his
legitimate importance in the centuries immediately following his own.
But his temporary and accidental eclipse was amply compensated in the
effect upon the civilised world which he subsequently exercised. So
all-embracing, so systematic, so absolutely complete did his philosophy
appear, that he seemed to after generations to have left nothing more
to discover. He at once attained a supremacy which lasted for some two
thousand years, not only over the Greek-speaking world, but over every
form of the civilisation of that long period, Greek, Roman, Syrian,
Arabic, from the Euphrates to the Atlantic, from Africa to Britain.
His authority was accepted equally by the learned doctors of Moorish
Cordova and the Fathers of the Church; to know Aristotle was to have
all {177} knowledge; not to know him was to be a boor; to deny him was
to be a heretic.
His style has nothing of the grace of Plato; he illuminates his works
with no myths or allegories; his manner is dry, sententious, familiar,
without the slightest attempt at ornament. There are occasional
touches of caustic humour, but nothing of emotion, still less of
rhapsody. His strength lies in the vast architectonic genius by which
he correlates every domain of the knowable in a single scheme, and in
the extraordinary faculty for illustrative detail with which he fills
the scheme in every part. He knows, and can shrewdly criticise every
thinker and writer who has preceded him; he classifies them as he
classifies the mental faculties, the parts of logical speech, the parts
of sophistry, the parts of rhetoric, the parts of animals, the parts of
the soul, the parts of the state; he defines, distinguishes, combines,
classifies, with the same sureness and minuteness of method in them
all. He can start from a general conception, expand it into its parts,
separate these again by distinguishing details till he brings the
matter down to its lowest possible terms, or _infimae species_. Or he
can start from these, find analogies among them constituting more
general species, and so in ascending scale travel surely up to a
general conception, or _summum genus_.
In his general conception of philosophy he was {178} to a large extent
in agreement with Plato; but he endeavoured to attain to a more
technical precision; he sought to systematise into greater
completeness; he pared off everything which he considered merely
metaphorical or fanciful, and therefore non-essential. The operations
of nature, the phenomena of life, were used in a much fuller and more
definite way to illustrate or even formulate the theory; but in its
main ideas Aristotle's philosophy is Plato's philosophy. The one
clothed it in poetry, the other in formulae; the one had a more
entrancing vision, the other a clearer and more exact apprehension; but
there is no essential divergence.
Aristotle's account of the origin or foundation of [300] philosophy is
as follows (_Met_. A. 2): "Wonder is and always has been the first
incentive to philosophy. At first men wondered at what puzzled them
near at hand, then by gradual advance they came to notice and wonder at
things still greater, as at the phases of the moon, the eclipses of sun
and moon, the wonders of the stars, and the origin of the universe.
Now he who is puzzled and in a maze regards himself as a know-nothing;
wherefore the philosopher is apt to be fond of wondrous tales or myths.
And inasmuch as it was a consciousness of ignorance that drove men to
philosophy, it is for the correction of this ignorance, and not for any
material utility, that the pursuit of knowledge exists. Indeed it is,
{179} as a rule, only when all other wants are well supplied that, by
way of ease and recreation, men turn to this inquiry. And thus, since
no satisfaction beyond itself is sought by philosophy, we speak of it
as we speak of the freeman. We call that man free whose existence is
for himself and not for another; so also philosophy is of all the
sciences the only one that is free, for it alone exists for itself.
"Moreover, this philosophy, which is the investigation of the first
causes of things, is the most truly educative among the sciences. For
instructors are persons who show us the causes of things. And
knowledge for the sake of knowledge belongs most properly to that
inquiry which deals with what is most truly a matter of knowledge. For
he who is seeking knowledge for its own sake will choose to have that
knowledge which most truly deserves the name, the knowledge, namely, of
what most truly appertains to knowledge. Now the things that most
truly appertain to knowledge are the first causes; for in virtue of
one's possession of these, and by deduction from these, all else comes
to be known; we do not come to know them through what is inferior to
them and underlying them. . . . The wise man ought therefore to know
not only those things which are the outcome and product of first
causes, he must be possessed of the truth as to the first causes
themselves. And wisdom indeed is just this {180} thoughtful science, a
science of what is highest, not truncated of its head."
[301]
"To the man, therefore, who has in fullest measure this knowledge of
universals, all knowledge must lie to hand; for in a way he knows all
that underlies them. Yet in a sense these universals are what men find
hardest to apprehend, because they stand at the furthest extremity from
the perceptions of sense."
[302]
"Yet if anything exist which is eternal, immovable, freed from gross
matter, the contemplative science alone can apprehend this. Physical
science certainly cannot, for physics is of that which is ever in flux;
nor can mathematical science apprehend it; we must look to a mode of
science prior to and higher than both. The objects of physics are
neither unchangeable nor free from matter; the objects of mathematics
are indeed unchangeable, but we can hardly say they are free from
matter; they have certainly relations with matter. But the first and
highest science has to do with that which is unmoved and apart from
matter; its function is with the eternal first causes of things. There
are therefore three modes of theoretical inquiry: the science of
physics, the science of mathematics, the science of God. For it is
clear that if the divine is anywhere, it must be in that form of
existence I have spoken of (_i.e._ in first causes). . . . If,
therefore, there be {181} any form of existence immovable, this we must
regard as prior, and the philosophy of this we must consider the first
philosophy, universal for the same reason that it is first. It deals
with existence as such, inquiring what it is and what are its
attributes as pure existence."
This is somewhat more technical than the language of Plato, but if we
compare it with what was said above (p. 142) we shall find an essential
identity. Yet Aristotle frequently impugns Plato's doctrine of ideas,
sometimes on the lines already [322] taken by Plato himself (above, p.
158), sometimes in other ways. Thus (_Met_. Z. 15, 16) he says: "That
which is _one_ cannot be in many places at one time, but that which is
common or general is in many places at one time. Hence it follows that
no universal exists apart from the individual things. But those who
hold the doctrine of ideas, on one side are right, viz. in maintaining
their separate existence, if they are to be substances or existences at
all. On the other side they are wrong, because by the idea or form
which they maintain to be separate they mean the one attribute
predicable of many things. The reason why they do this is because they
cannot indicate what these supposed imperishable essences are, apart
from the individual substances which are the objects of perception.
The result is that they simply represent them under the same forms as
{182} those of the perishable objects of sensation which are familiar
to our senses, with the addition of a phrase--_i.e._ they say 'man as
such,' 'horse as such,' or 'the absolute man,' 'the absolute horse.'"
Aristotle here makes a point against Plato and his school, inasmuch as,
starting from the assumption that of the world of sense there could be
no knowledge, no apprehension fixed or certain, and setting over
against this a world of general forms which were fixed and certain,
they had nothing with which to fill this second supposed world except
the data of sense as found in individuals. Plato's mistake was in
confusing the mere 'this,' which is the conceived starting-point of any
sensation, but which, like a mathematical point, has nothing which can
be said about it, with individual objects as they exist and are known
in all the manifold and, in fact, infinite relations of reality. The
bare subject 'this' presents at the one extreme the same emptiness, the
same mere possibility of knowledge, which is presented at the other by
the bare predicate 'is.' But Plato, having an objection to the former,
as representing to him the merely physical and therefore the passing
and unreal, clothes it for the nonce in the various attributes which
are ordinarily associated with it when we say, 'this man,' 'this
horse,' only to strip them off successively as data of sensation, and
so at last get, by an illusory process of {183} abstraction and
generalisation, to the ultimate generality of being, which is the mere
'is' of bare predication converted into a supposed eternal substance.
Aristotle was as convinced as Plato that there must be some fixed and
immovable object or reality corresponding to true and certain
knowledge, but with his scientific instincts he was not content to have
it left in a condition of emptiness, attractive enough to the more
emotional and imaginative Plato. And hence we have elsewhere quite as
strong and definite statements as those quoted above about universals
[316] (p. 180), to the effect that existence is in the fullest and most
real sense to be predicated of _individual_ things, and that only in a
secondary sense can existence be predicated of universals, in virtue of
their being found in individual things. Moreover, among universals the
_species_, he maintains, has more of existence in it than the genus,
because it is nearer to the individual or primary existence. For if
you predicate of an individual thing of what species it is, you supply
a statement more full of information and more closely connected with
the thing than if you predicate to what genus it belongs; for example,
if asked, "What is this?" and you answer, "A man," you give more
information than if you say, "A living creature."
How did Aristotle reconcile these two points of {184} view, the one, in
which he conceives thought as starting from first causes, the most
universal objects of knowledge, and descending to particulars; the
other, in which thought starts from the individual objects, and
predicates of them by apprehension of their properties? The antithesis
is no accidental one; on the contrary, it is the governing idea of his
Logic, with its ascending process or Induction, and its descending
process or Syllogism. Was thought a mere process in an unmeaning
circle, the 'upward and downward way' of Plato?
As to this we may answer first that while formally Aristotle displays
much the same 'dualism' or unreconciled separation of the 'thing' and
the 'idea' as Plato, his practical sense and his scientific instincts
led him to occupy himself largely not with either the empty 'thing' or
the equally empty 'idea,' but with the true _individuals_, which are at
the same time the true universals, namely, real objects as known,
having, so far as they are known, certain forms or categories under
which you can class them, having, so far as they are not yet fully
known, a certain raw material for further inquiry through observation.
In this way Thought and Matter, instead of being in eternal and
irreconcilable antagonism as the Real and the Unreal, become parts of
the same reality, the first summing up the knowledge of things already
attained, the second symbolising the infinite {185} [317] possibilities
of further ascertainment. And thus the word 'Matter' is applied by
Aristotle to the highest genus, as the relatively indefinite compared
with the more fully defined species included under it; it is also
applied by him to the individual object, in so far as that object
contains qualities not yet fully brought into predication.
[319]
And second, we observe that Aristotle introduced a new conception which
to his view established a _vital relation_ between the universal and
the individual. This conception he formulated in the correlatives,
_Potentiality_ and _Actuality_. With these he closely connected the
idea of _Final Cause_. The three to Aristotle constituted a single
reality; they are organically correlative. In a living creature we
find a number of members or organs all closely interdependent and
mutually conditioning each other. Each has its separate function, yet
none of them can perform its particular function well unless all the
others are performing theirs well, and the effect of the right
performance of function by each is to enable the others also to perform
theirs. The total result of all these mutually related functions is
_Life_; this is their End or Final Cause, which does not exist apart
from them, but is constituted at every moment by them. This Life is at
the same time the condition on which alone each and every one of the
functions constituting it can be performed. Thus {186} life in an
organism is at once the end and the middle and the beginning; it is the
cause final, the cause formal, the cause efficient. Life then is an
_Entelechy_, as Aristotle calls it, by which he means the realisation
in unity of the total activities exhibited in the members of the living
organism.
In such an existence every part is at once a potentiality and an
actuality, and so also is the whole. We can begin anywhere and travel
out from that point to the whole; we can take the whole and find in it
all the parts.
{187}