r'M
r |
|
■vt3.l^^'^:-l |
|
'' ■■ ft |
«, |
»::::*i;;i.
*;I;«
ipreeenteD to
^be Xibrar^
of tbe
IHnivcrsit^ of ^Toronto Iprofessor iFre&erlcF? xrrac?
JEmeritus iprofessor of Etbics
in
"Glniversdv? College
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2008 with funding from
IVIicrosoft Corporation
http://www.archive.org/details/beginnershistory02cushuoft
IMMANUEL KANT
(The Puttrich'sche Portrait of Kant was printed m the Kinil-Stiidien in 1906 and is said by Professor Vaihinfjer to be one of the best likenesses of the Kiinigsberg philosopher. The name of the artist was I'uttnch, and the original paintinf,' goes back before 1798. It is interesting to note that this portrait of Kant was used by the sculptor, Kauch, as his model for the statue of Kant upon the memorial monument of Frederick the Great.)
i<^-^^
A BEGINNER'S HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
BY
HERBEET ERNEST CUSHMAN, LL.D., Ph.D.
Sometime Professor of Philosophy in Tufts College Lecturer of Philosophy in Harvard College Lecturer of Philosophy in Dartmouth College
VOL. II MODERN PHILOSOPHT
BOSTON NEW TORK CHICAGO ^'^.V*
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
(C{)e miteri^ibe ^xzH Cambciboe
COPYRIGHT, 191 1, BY HERBERT ERNEST CUSHMAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PKEFACE
The pedagogical purpose of this history of philo- sophy is stated in the Preface to the first volume. It may be desirable in this place to restate what that pur- pose is.
This book is intended as a text-book for sketch-courses in the history of philosophy. It is written for the student rather than for the teacher. It is a history of pliiloso- phy upon the background of geography and of literary and political history. Since the book is intended for the student, it makes the teacher all the more neces- sary ; for it puts into the hands of the student an out- line of the history of philosophy and into the hands of the teacher the class-room time for inspiring the student with his own interpretations. In making use of geo- graphical maps, contemporary literature, and political history, this book is merely employing for pedagogical reasons the stock of information with which the student is furnished, when he begins the history of philosophy. The summaries, tables, and other generalizations are employed, as in text-books in other subjects, as helps to the memory. Therefore the book has the single purpose of arranging and organizing the material of the history of philosophy for the beginner.
The student will be impressed with the short time- length of the modern period compared with the tre- mendously long stretches of the periods of antiquity. The modern period is only four hundred and fifty years
iV PREFACE
in length, if we take the date 1453 as its beginning. Compared to the twenty-two hundred years of ancient and mediaeval life, the period of modern life seems very short. Furthermore the student who has followed the philosophy of antiquity must have observed how often philosophy arose out of ethnic situations in which whole civilizations were involved. He will find that modern philosophy in this I'espect stands in contrast with the philosophy of ancient times. With the decentralizing of modern Europe, philosophy has also become decentral- ized. This does not mean that philosophical movements have included fewer people in their sweep, but that the movements have had shorter life, the transitions have been quicker, and the epochs have been briefer. Modern civilization is subjective ; and its philosophy is thereby more technical, and more difficult to understand and to interpret than the philosophy of antiquity.
There are many helpful books in English on the his- tory of modern philosophy, and the student should have them at hand. I call attention especially to Rand, 3Iod- ern Classical Philosophers, for its judicious selection from the original sources ; toRoyce, Spirit of Modern Philosophy, chapters iii to x ; to Eucken, The Proh- lem of Human Life, pp. 303 to 518 ; and to the Sum- maries in Windelband, ^is^or?/ of Philosoj^hy, Parts IV to VII. Besides these there are valuable histories of modern philosophy by Falckenberg, Hoffding (2 vols.), Weber, Ueberweg (vol. ii). Calkins, Dewing, and Rogers.
To friends who have read parts of the manuscript, I desire to acknowledge my indebtedness for many wise criticisms and suggestions ; especially to Professor W. A. Neilson, Professor R. B. Perry, Dr. B. A. G. Fuller,
PREFACE V
and Dr. J, H. Woods of Harvard University ; to Pro- fessor Mary W. Calkins of Wellesley College ; to Pro- fessor W. P. Montague of Columbia University ; and to Professor S. P. Capen of Clark College.
Tufts College, December, 1910.
CONTENTS
VOLUME II. MODERN PHILOSOPHY (1453 TO THE Present Time)
CHAPTER I. The Characteristics and Divisions
OF THE Modern Period 1
The Difficulty in the Study of Modern Philosophy 1
The Periods of Modern Philosophy 2
The Causes of the Decay of the Civilization of
THE Middle Ages 4
(a) The Internal Causes 4
(1) The Intellectual Methods were Self-Destructive 4
(2) The Standard of Truth became a Double Stand-
ard 5
(3) The Development of Mysticism 5
(4) The Doctrine of Nominalism 5
(6) The External Causes 6
CHAPTER II. The Renaissance (1453-1690) . . 8
The General Character of the Renaissance . . 8
(a) The New Man of the Renaissance 8
(h) The New Universe of the Renaissance 9
(1) The Transformation of the Physical Universe . 9
(2) The Restoration of the World of Antiquity . 10 The Significance of the Renaissance in History . 11 Map showing the Decentralization of Europe . . 13 The Two Periods of the Renaissance : The Human- istic (1453-1600) ; The Natural Science (1600-1690) 15
(a) The Similarities of the Two Periods 16
(6) The Differences of the Two Periods 16
(1) The Countries which participate iu the Re- naissance differ in the Two Periods .... 16
viii CONTENTS
(2) The Intellectual Standards differ in the Two
Periods 17
(3) The Scientific Methods in the Two Periods were
Different 18
(4) The Attitude of the Church toward Science
differs in the Two Periods 19
A Brief Contrast of the Two Periods — A Summary
OF THE Discussion above 21
CHAPTER III. The Humanistic Period of the
Renaissance (1453-1600) 22
The Long List of Representatives of the Human- istic Period 22
Nicolas of Cusa (1401-1464) 24
Paracelsus (1493-1541) ■ .... 25
Giordano Bruno (1548-1600) 27
Map showing the Birthplaces of the Chief Philoso- phers of the Renaissance 30
CHAPTER IV. The Natural Science Period of
THE Renaissance (1600-1690) 31
The Philosophers of the Natural Science Period 31
The Mathematical Astronomers 32
Galileo Galilei (1564-1641) 36
The Life of Francis Bacon, Baron Verulam (1561-
1626) 39
The Position of Bacon in Philosophy 39
The Aim of Bacon 42
The Method of Bacon 43
(a) Bacon^s Criticism of the Past 44
(6) Bacon's Positive Construction 45
The English Natural Science Movement .... 46
Thomas Hobbes and his Contemporaries .... 47
The Life and Writings of Hobbes (1588-1679) . . 49
1. As a Classical Scholar (1588-1628) 49
2. As Mathematician (1628-1638) 49
CONTENTS ix
3. As Philosopher (1638-1651) 50
4. As Controversialist (1651-1668) 50
5. As Classical Scholar (1668-1679) 50
The Influences upon the Thought of Hobbes . . 50
1. His Premature Birth 50
2. His Father 51
3. The New Mathematical Science 52
The Fundamental Principle in the Teaching of
Hobbes 52
The Method of Hobbes 54
The Kinds of Bodies 55
Hobbes's Application of the Mathematical Theory
to Psychology 66
Hobbes's Application of the Mathematical Theory
to Politics 58
The Renaissance in England after Hobbes ... 61
CHAPTER V. The Rationalism of the Natural
Science Period of the Renaissance 62
The Nature of Rationalism 62
The Mental Conflict in Descartes 65
The Life and Philosophical Writings of Des- cartes (1596-1650) 66
1. As Child and Student (1596-1613) 66
2. As Traveler (1613-1628) 66
3. As Writer (1629-1650) 67
4. In Stockholm (1649-1050) 67
The Two Conflicting Influences upon the Thought
OF Descartes 67
The Method of Descartes 69
Induction — Provisional Doubt — The Ultimate
Certainty of Consciousness 70
Deduction — The Implications of Consciousness . 72
The Existence of God 73
The Reality of Matter 75
God and the World 77
X CONTENTS
The Relation of God to Matter . „ 77
The Relation of God to Minds 78
The Relation of Mind and Body 78
The Influence of Descartes 80
The Relation of the Occasionalists and Spinoza
to Descartes 81
Portrait of Spinoza 84
The Historical Place of Spinoza 84
The Influences upon Spinoza 86
1. His Jewish Training 86
2. His Impulse from the New Science — Descartes'
Influence 86
3. His Acquaintance with the Collegiants .... 87 The Life and Philosophical Writings of Spinoza
(1632-1677) 88
1. In Israel (1632-1656) 88
2. In Retirement (1656-1663) 89
3. In the Public Eye (1663-1677) 90
The Method of Spinoza 90
The Fundamental Principle of Spinoza's Philoso- phy 91
Three Central Problems in Spinoza's Teaching . 93 The Pantheism of Spinoza — The All-Inclusiveness
OF God 94
The Mysticism of Spinoza 98
Spinoza's Doctrine of Salvation 102
% Summary of Splnoza's Teaching 106
Leibnitz as the Finisher of the Renaissance and
the Forerunner of the Enlightenment .... 107 The Life and Writings of Leibnitz (1646-1716) . 108
1. Leipsic and University Life (1646-1666) .... Ill
2. Mainz and Diplomacy (1666-1672) Ill
3. Paris and Science (1672-1676) Ill
4. Hanover and Philosophy (1676-1716) 112
The Three Influences upon the Thought of Leib- nitz 112
(1) His Early Classical Studies 112
CONTENTS xi
(2) The New Science and his own Discoveries . . , 113
(3) Political Pressure for Religious Reconciliation . 114
The Method of Leibnitz 115
The Immediate Problem for Leibnitz 118
The Result of Leibnitz's Examination of the Prin- ciples OF Science — A Plurality of Metaphysical Substances 119
1. Leibnitz first scrutinized the Scientific Conception
of Motion 119
2. Leibnitz next examined the Scientific Conception
of the Atom 120
3. Leibnitz then identified Force with the Metaphys-
ical Atom i_121
The Double Nature of the Monads 122
The Two Forms of Leibnitz's Conception of the
Unity of Substances 125
The Intrinsic Unity of the Monads — The Philo- sophical Unity 125
The Superimposed Unity of the Monads — The Theological Unity 129
CHAPTER VI. The Enlightenment (1690-1781) . 132
The Emergence 'OF the "New Man" — Individual- ism 132
The Practical Presupposition of the Enlighten- ment— The Independence of the Individual . . 134
The Metaphysical Presupposition of the Enlight- enment 135
The Problems of the Enlightenment 135
(a) Utilitarian Problems 136
(b) Questions of Criticism 138
A Comparison of the Enlightenment in England,
France, and Germany 140
The Many Groups of Philosophers of the Enught-
ENMENT 140
Map showing the Birthplaces of some of the Influ- ential Thinkers of the Enlightenment .... 144
xii CONTENTS
CHAPTER VII. John Locke 145
The Enlightenment in Great Britain 145
John Locke, Life and Writings (1632-1704) . . . 147
1. Student Life (1632-1666) 147
2. As Politician (1666-1683) 148
3. As Philosophical Author (1683-1691) 149
4. As Controversialist (1691-1704) 149
The Sources of Locke's Thought 150
1. His Puritan Ancestry 150
2. His Training in Tolerance . • 150
3. The Scientific Influence 151
4. The Political Influence 152
Summary 153
The Purpose of Locke 153
Two Sides of Locke's Philosophy 155
(a) The Negative Side — Locke and Scholasticism . . 156
(b) The Positive Side — The New Psychology and
Epistemology 157
Locke's Psychology 158
Locke's Theory of Knowledge 160
Locke's Practical Philosophy 162
The Influence of Locke 163
The English Deists 164
The English Moralists 166
Chronological Table of the English Moralists . 168
CHAPTER Vin. Berkeley and Hume 169
The Life and Writings of George Berkbley (1685- 1753) 169
1. His Early Training (1685-1707) 169
2. As Author (1707-1721) 170
3. As Priest and Missionary (1721-1753) .... 171 The Influences upon the Thought of Berkeley . 172
The Purpose of Berkeley 173
Berkeley's General Relation to Locke and Hume 174 Berkeley's Points of Agreement with Locke . . 175
CONTENTS xiii
The Negative Side of Berkeley's Philosophy . . 176
1. As shown in General in his Analysis of Abstract
Ideas 177
2. As shown in Particular in his Analysis of Matter 177 The Positive Side of Berkeley's Philosophy . . . 179
1. Esse est Percipi 179
2. The Existence of Mind is assumed by Berkeley . 180
3. Spiritual Substances are Sufficient to explain all
Ideas 181
The Life and Writings of David Hume (1711-1776) 183
1. Period of Training (1711-1734) 184
2. Period of Philosopher (1734-1752) 185
3. Period of Politician (1752-1776) 185
Influences upon the Thought of Hume 186
Dogmatism, Phenomenalism, and Skepticism . . . 187
The Origin of Ideas 189
The Association of Ideas 191
The Association of Contiguity 193
The Association of Resemblance 194
1. Mathematics 194
2. The Conception of Substance: Hume's Attack on
Theology 195
The Association of Causation: Hume's Attack on
Science 196
The Extent and Limits of Human Knowledge . . 199
Hume's Theory of Religion and Ethics 200
The Scottish School 201
CHAPTER IX. The Enlightenment in France and Germany 203
The Situation in France in the Enlightenment . 203
The English Influence in France 206
The Two Periods of the French Enlightenment . 207 The Intellectual Enlightenment (1729-1762) — Voltaire, Montesquieu, and the Encyclopedists 208
Voltaire (1694-1778) 209
The ENCYCLOPiEDISTS 211
xiy CONTENTS
The Social Enlightenment (1762-1789) 213
Rousseau (1712-1778) 213
The German Enlightenment (1740-1781) .... 216 The Introductoky Period (1648-1740). Absolutism 217
1. The Rise of Prussia 218
2. The Early German Literature 219
3.. The Pietistic Movement 219
4. The Transformation of Leibnitz's Rationalism . . 220
Summary of the Literary Enlightenment of Ger- many (1740-1781) 223
The Political Enlightenment of Germany — Fred- erick THE Great 224
The Course of the German Enlightenment . . . 226
Lessing 228
CHAPTER X. Kai^t ' .... 230
The Convergence of Philosophical Influences in
Germany 230
The Three Characteristics of German Philosophy 231 The Two Periods of German Philosophy .... 232 The Influences upon Kant 233
1. Pietism 233
2. The Leibnitz- Wolffian Philosophy 233
3. The Physics of Newton 234
4. The Humanitarianism of Rousseau 234
5. The Skepticism of Hume 235
The Life and Writings of Kant (1724-1804) ... 235
The Problem of Kant 238
The Method of Kant 239
The Threefold World of Kant — Subjective
States, Things-in-Themselves, and Phenomena . 240
The World of Knowledge 243
The Place of Synthesis in Knowledge 245
The Judgments Indispensable to Human Knowledge 248 The Proof of the Validity of Human Knowledge 252 1. In what does the Validity of Sense-Perscep- tion consist ? 253
CONTENTS
XV
2. In what does the Validity op the Under- standing CONSIST ? 255
Has THE Reason by itself any Validity ? . . . . 260
The Idea of the Soul 262
The Idea of the Universe 264
The Idea of God 265
Conclusion 268
The Problem of the Critique of Practical Reason :
The Ethics of Kant 269
The Moral Law and the Two Questions concerning it 271
1. The First Question concerning the Moral Law . . 272
2. The Second Question concerning the Moral Law . 273 The Moral Postulates 275
1. The Postulate of Freedom 276
2. The Postulate of the Immortality of the Soul . . 276
3. The Postulate of the Existence of God .... 276
CHAPTER XI. The German Idealists .... 278
Idealism after Kant 278
Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel 279
Map showing the University Towns and other Important Places connected with the German
Idealists 280
The Life and Writings of Fichte (1762-1814) . . 282
1. His Education (1762-1790) . 283
2. Discipleship of Kant (1790-1794) 283
3. His Life at Jena (1794-1799) 284
4. His Life at Berlin (1799-1814) . • 284
The Influences upon Fichte's Teaching .... 285
Why we Philosophize 286
The Moral Awakening 287
The Central Principle in Fichte's Philosophy . . 288
The Moral World 290
God and Man 292
What a Moral Reality involves 293
1. It involves the Consciousness of Something Else . 293
2. It involves a Contradiction 294
xvi CONTENTS
Romanticism 295
Goethe as a Romanticist 297
Romanticism in Philosophy 299
The Life and Writings of Schelling (1775-1854) . 300
1. Earlier Period (1775-1797) . 302
2. The Pliilosophy of Nature (1797-1800) . . . .302
3. The Transcendental Philosophy (1800-1801) . . 302
4. The Philosophy of Identity (1801-1804) . . . ,303 6. The Philosophy of Freedom and God (1804-1809) . 303 6. The Philosophy of Mythology and Revelation (1809-
1854) 303
A Brief Comparison of Fichte and Schelling as
Philosophers 303
Schelling's Philosophy of Nature ....... 305
Schelling's Transcendental Philosophy .... 307
The System of Identity » . . . . 310
Schelling's Religious Philosophy 311
Hegel and the Culmination of Idealism .... 312 Why Hegel remains to-day the Representative of
Kant 314
The Life and Writings of Hegel (1770-1831) . . 315
1. Formative Period (1770-1796) 317
2. Formulation of his Philosophy (1796-1806) . . .317
3. Development of his Philosophy (1806-1831) . . .317
Realism, Mysticism, and Idealism 318
The Fundamental Principles of Hegel's Idealism . 321
The Cosmic Unity 322
The Cosmic Law . 326
Hegel's Application of his Theory , 328
CHAPTER XII. The Philosophy of the Thing-
in-Itself 330
Herbart and Schopenhauer 330
JoHANN Friedrich Herbart 332
The Life and Writings of Herbart (1776-1841) . 333
The Contradictions of Experience 334
The Argument for Realism 334
CONTENTS xvii
The Many Reals and Nature Phenomena .... 337
The Soul and Mental Phenomena 338
Arthur Schopenhauer and his Philosophical Re- lations 340
The Life and Writings of Schopenhauer (1788-1860) 342
1. Period of Education (1788-1813) 343
2. Period of Literary Production (1813-1831) . . .343
3. Period of Retirement (1831-1860) 343
The Influences upon Schopenhauer's Thought . . 343 The World as Will and the World as Idea . . 345
The Will as Irrational Reality 347
The Misery of the World as Idea — Pessimism . . 348 The Way of Deliverance 349
CHAPTER XIII. The Philosophy of the Nine- teenth Century . 352
The Return to Realism 352
The Character of the Realism of the Nineteenth
Century 353
Modern Philosophy and German Idealism .... 355 The Philosophical Problems of the Nineteenth
Century 356
1. The Problem of the Functioning of the Soul 357
2. The Problem of the Conception of History . 360 INDEX 365
ILLUSTRATIONS
Immanuel Kant Frontispiece
Map showing the Decentralization of Europe . . 13
Map showing the Birthplaces of the Chief Philo- sophers OF THE Renaissance 30
Baruch de Spinoza 84
Map showing the Birthplaces of some of the Influ- ential Thinkers of the Enlightenment .... 144
Map showing the Universitt Towns and other Im- portant Places connected with the German Idealists 280
A BEGIl^mEE'S HISTOEY OF PHILOSOPHY
VOLUME n
MODERN PHILOSOPHY (1453 TO THE PRESENT TIME)
CHAPTER I
THE CHARACTERISTICS AND DIVISIONS OF THE MODERN PERIOD
The Difficulty in the Study of Modern Philosophy. Beside the great spans of ancient and mediaeval civili- zations, the 450 years of the modern period seem brief. The road is indeed relatively short from mediaeval times to the century in which we live, and yet it proves diffi- cult to the student who travels it for the first time. Even for the modern mind the study of modern phi- losophy is inherently more difficult than that of the ancient and mediaeval. The preceding periods present new points of view, but these, once attained, lead along comparatively easy ways. The chief difficulty of the preceding periods is overcome when their peculiar view of things is gained ; but the student of modern philoso- phy is confronted with difficulties all along the way. In the first place, modern philosophy is very comjilex because it is a conflict of various aspirations. It bus neither the objectivity of ancient thought nor the logi- cal consistency of mediaeval thought. It arises from
2 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
subjective motives, whose shadings are difficult to trace. The task is rendered harder by the fact that intima- tions of the problems in the history of modern philoso- phy are on the whole present in the beginner's mind ; and yet at the same time his mind possesses, besides these, many mediaeval notions as well. For the student to pass successfully through the entire length of modern thought from Cusanus to Spencer means, therefore, two things for him : (1) he must gain an insight into the depth and significance of his own half-formed ideas ; (2) he must transcend or give up entirely his mediaeval notions. If therefore philosophy represents the epoch that produces it, — either as the central principle or as the marginal and ulterior development of that epoch, — the modern can come to an understanding of the his- tory of modern philosophy only by coming to an under- standing; of himself and his own inner reflections.
This will explain why the short period of modem thought is traditionally divided into comparatively many periods. These subordinate periods ring out the changes through which the modern man feels that he himself has blindly passed in his inner life. Modern philosophy is no more local and temporary than the ancient ; it is no less a part of a social movement ; but the modern man is more alive to the differentiations of modern thought than he is to those of antiquity.
The Periods of Modem Philosophy. The divisions of the history of modern philosophy are as follows : —
1. The Renaissance (1453-1690) — from the end of the Middle Ages to the publication of Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding.
2. The Enlightenment (1690-1781) —to the pub- lication of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason.
THE MODERN PERIOD 3
3. German Philosophy (1781-1831) — to the death of Hegel.
4. The Nineteenth Century Philosophy (1820— the present time.)
The Renaissance, the first period, covers more than half of the length of modern times. It is sometimes called the springtime of modern history, although it is longer than all the other seasons together. It is to be noted that two epoch-making books form the divid- ing lines between the first three periods. The tran- sition from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment is signalized by Locke's great Essay on the Human Un- derstanding^ which expressed for one hundred years the political and philosophical opinions of western Europe. The transition from the Enlightenment to German Philosophy was in its turn signalized by the appear- ance of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason^ and this book may be said to have been fundamental to human think- ing ever since. There is one point further to be noticed in these divisions, and that is the overlapping of the last two periods. German philosophy ends practically with the death of Hegel in 1831, and the modern Evolution movement began at least ten years before, about 1820. No great philosophical treatise marks the division here, for the Evolution movement had its beginnings in Ger- man philosophy and in the discoveries and practical inventions of natural science. Evolution, however, be- came a reaction upon the last phases of German philo- sophy, and then formed a distinct movement. The book that formulated the Evolution movement most fully appeared several years after the theory was under way. This was Darwin's Origin of Species^ published in 1859. Locke's Essay and Kant's Critique are therefore
4 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the most influential philosophical interpretations of the history of modern times since its early beginnings in the Renaissance.
The Causes of the Decay of the Civilization of the Middle Ages. The social structure of the mediaeval time weakened and broke apart, in the first place be- cause of certain inherent defects in its organism ; in the second place because of some remarkable discoveries, inventions, and historical changes. We may call these (1) the, internal causes and (2) the external causes of the fall of the civilization of the Middle Ages.
Ca) 27ie Internal Causes were inherent weaknesses in mediaeval intellectual life, and alone would have been sufficient to bring mediaeval society to an end.
(1) The intellectnal methods of the Middle Ages were self-destructive methods. We may take scholasti- cism as the best expression of the intellectual life of the Middle Ages, and scholasticism even in its ripest period used the method of deductive logic. Scholasticism did not employ induction from observation and experiment, but proceeded on the principle that the more universal logically a conception is, the more real it is. (See vol. i, p. 355.) On this principle scholasticism set as its only task to penetrate and clai-ify dogma. Its theism was a logical theism. Even Thomas Aquinas, the great classic schoolman, used formal logic (dialectics) as the method of obtaining the truth. After him in the latter part of the Middle Ages, logic instead of being a method be- came an end. It was studied for its own sake. This naturally degenerated into word-splitting and quibbling, into the commenting upon the texts of this master and that, into arid verbal discussions. The religious orders frittered away their time on verbal questions of trifling
THE MODERN PERIOD 5
importance. The lifetime of such intellectual employ- ment is always a limited one.
(2) The standard of the truth of things in the ]\Iid- dle Ages became a double standard, and was therefore self -destructive. Ostensibly there was only one standard, — infallible dogma. Really there were two standards, — reason and dogma. The employment of logical methods implied the human reason as a valid standard. Logic is the method of human reasoning. To use logic to clarify dogma, to employ the philosophy of Aristotle to supple- ment the Bible, to defend faith by argument, amounted in effect to supporting revelation by reason. It was the same as defending the Infallible and revealed by the fallible and secular. It was the erecting of a double standard. It called the infallible into question. It was the offering of excuses for what is supposedly beyond suspicion. The scholastic made faith the object of thought, and thereby encouraged the spirit of free In- quiry.
(3) The development of 3fysticism In the Middle Ages was a powerful factor that led to its dissolution. There is, of course, an element of mysticism in the doc- trine of the church from St. Augustine onwards, and in the Early Period of the Middle Ages mysticism had no independence. But mysticism is essentially the direct communion with God on the part of the individual. The intermediary offices of the church are contradictory to the spirit of mysticism. It Is not surprising, therefore, to find in the last period of scholasticism numerous inde- pendent mystics as representatives of the tendency of individualistic religion, which was to result in the Pro- testantism of the Renaissance.
(4) TJie doctrine of Nominalism was the fourth
6 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
important element to be mentioned that led to the dis- solution of the civilization of the Middle Ages. This was easily suppressed by the church authorities in the early mediaeval centuries, when it was a purely logical doctrine and had no empirical scientific basis. In the later years, however, nominalism gained great strength with the acquisition of knowledge of the nature world. Nominalism turned man's attention away from the af- fairs of the spirit. It incited him to modify the realism of dogma. It pointed out the importance of practical experience. It emphasized individual opinion, neglected tradition, and placed its hope in the possibilities of sci- ence rather than in the spiritual actualities of religion.
(6) The External Causes consisted o1 certain im- portant events that brought the Middle Ages to a close and introduced the Renaissance. These events caused great social changes by demolishing the geographical and astronomical conceptions of mediaeval time which had become a part of church tradition.
First to be mentioned are the inventions which belong to the Middle Ages, but which came into common use not before the beginning of the Renaissance. These played an important part in the total change of the society which followed. They were the magnetic needle, gunpowder, which was influential in destroying the feudal system, and printing, which would have failed in its effect had not at the same time the manufacture of paper been improved. Moreover at the end of the fifteenth and the beginning of the sixteenth century occurred the following events : —
1453. Constantinople fell and its Greek scholars migrated to Italy.
1492. Columbus discovered America, an achieve-
THE MODERN PERIOD 7
ment which was made possible by the use of the mag- netic needle.
1498. Vasco da Gama discovered the all-sea route to India and thereby changed the course of the world's commerce.
1518. The Protestant Reformation was begun by Luther.
1530. Copernicus wrote his De revolutionihus or- hium, in which he maintained that the earth moved around the sun.
CHAPTER II
THE RENAISSANCE* (1453-1690)
The General Character of the Renaissance. The
causes that led to the decline of the society of the Middle Ages were of course the same that ushered in the period of the Renaissance, — the first, the longest, and the most hopeful period of modern times. The general characterization of this period may be expressed in a single phrase, — a New Man in a New Universe. This, however, needs explanation.
(a) The Neio Man of the Renaissance was dis- tinctly a man with a country. The fusion of the Ger- man and Roman peoples in the Dark Ages before Charlemagne (800) was now completed. The fusion did not result in a homogenous whole, but in groups which formed the nations of Europe. The time when this grouping was practically finished is a difficult problem, into which we will not inquire. In a real sense it never was nor will be ended. We know that the nations began to form about the year 1000, and when we ex- amine the history of the Renaissance we find Italians, Germans, French, Dutch, and English with distinctive national characteristics. We find the Renaissance first centralized among the Italians and Germans, and then later among the English, the people of the Low Coun- tries, and the French. The Italian is a new Roman and
* Read Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 303-321"; "Windelband, History of Philosophy, pp. 348-351; Dewing, Introduction to Modern Philosophy, pp. 52-54.
THE RENAISSANCE 9
the German a new Teuton. The undefined nationalities of the Middle Ages now become clear-cut. Philosophy also becomes now more or less of a national concern.
(6) A Ne^v Universe is now opened to the " New Man " of the Renaissance. Not only in mental equip- ment, but in scope for his activity, does the European of the Renaissance differ from the mediaBval man. The world is actually a new world — new in its geographical outlines and its astronomical relations ; new in its intellectual stores from the past. The physical world that supported his body and the intellectual world that refreshed his mind were newly discovered by the man of the Renaissance. We must examine these two new worlds more in detail.
1. The physical universe bad undergone a wonderful transformation for man. Our nineteenth century has often been looked upon as a period of extraordinary dis- coveries ; but no discoveries have ever so revolutionized the human mind as those enumerated above as " the external causes of the fall of the society of the Middle Ages." Think how new that old world must have seemed to the common people who had supposed it to be flat, as well as to the scientists who had hypotheti- cally supposed it to be solid — how new it must have seemed when they found that it had been actually cir- cumnavigated ! How the horizon of men's minds must have widened when new continents were discovered by sailors and new celestial worlds were found by the tele- scope of the astronomers ! Discovery led to experiment, and the whole new physical world was transformed by the new physical science of Galileo into a mechanical order. It was a wonderful new material world that was discovered and scientifically reorganized at the begin-
10 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
ning of the Renaissance. Whereas the common man in mediaeval time had found little joy in living, the com- mon man now looked upon the world as a magnificent opportunity. Whereas the mediaeval man had turned from the disorders of this wicked world to contempla- tion of the blessedness of heaven, the man of the Re- naissance came forth from the cloister and engaged in trade and adventure. The earth and the things therein had suddenly become objects of emotional interest.
2. Not only was a new geographical and physical world discovered at this time, but also the intellectual world of antiquity was restored. For more than a thou- sand years in western Europe the literature of the Greeks and Romans had been a thing of shreds and patches, and even then read only in Latin translations. Now the European had come into possession of a large part of it and was reading it in the original. He was aroused to the wonderful intellectual life of the Age of Pericles. The interest in ancient literature, which had been started by Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, became an absorbing and control- ling force at this time. The real interest began with the stimulus received by the coming of the Greek scholars to Italy from the East : first the ecclesiastical embassy in 1438, and afterward in 1453 the large number of refu- gees from Constantinople at the time of its capture by the Turks. Upon these refugees the patronage of the great Italian nobles — chiefly perhaps in Florence — was lavishly bestowed. The Platonic Academy was founded. Learned expounders of the new learning arose, — Pletho, the two Picos, Fincinus, Reuchlin. Of all the philoso- phies of antiquity Platonism was favored, and it was interpreted in a mystical manner. Aristotle and Chris-
THE RENAISSANCE 11
tianity were looked upon as mere interpretations of Plato. Nevertheless the Renaissance scholars were in- terested in all the new literary material from the East. They studied the Jewish Cabala and its mystic numbers. They revived Skepticism, Eclecticism, Stoicism, and Epi- cureanism. Aristotle was represented by two antago- nistic schools ; and Taurellus opposed both and appealed to the scholarly world to return to Christianity.
The Significance of the Renaissance in History. We have above characterized the Renaissance as a time in which a " new man " found himself living in a " new imiverse." But the old world of mediaeval science, cul- ture, and conventional manners had by no means been entirely outgrown and discarded. Periods of history do not " leave their low- vaulted past " as easily as a man may throw away his coat. Mediaeval science and theo- logy still remained, not only as a background but also as an aggressive social factor everywhere. Mediaeval scho- lasticism was something with which the Renaissance had always to reckon. Scholasticism modified, frequently restricted, and even directed the thought of the Renais- sance. Consequently when we form our final estimate of the place of the Renaissance in the modern move- ment, we must not overlook the conservative force of the mediaeval institutions existing during the period. The " new man " lived in a " new universe " ; and his problem was how to explain the relatio7i of that " new universe" to himself so that his explanation ivould not antagonize the time-honored traditions of the church. This was the constructive problem that gave the Renais- sance its place in history.
The first impression, however, of the Renaissance upon the reader is that it stands for no constructive problem
12 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
whatever. The changes that usher in the Renaissance seem to speak of an epoch that is entirely negative, de- structive, and revolutionary. The period seems from one side to be a declaration against time-honored traditions. The " new man " had risen superior to dogma and to Aristotle. Intellectual fermentation had set in, and never had so many attempts at innovation been so strenuously sought. The love for novelty filled the human mind, and the imagination ran riot. The movement toward modern individualism appeared in the decentralization that at this time was everywhere taking place. Latin, for ex- ample, ceased to be the one language for educated men, and the modern languages came into use. Eome ceased to be the only religious centre, and Wittenberg, London, and Geneva became centres. There was no longer one church, but many sects. Scientific centres became nu- merous. Many of the universities had arisen independ- ently, and now Oxford, Vienna, Heidelberg, Prague, and numerous universities in Italy and Germany af- forded opportunities for study equal to those of Paris. To the man who looks upon the Classic Period of Scho- lasticism in the Middle Ages as the golden age of united faith, — to that man the Renaissance will appear only as the beginning of the disintegration and revolution that he sees in modern times.
But a deeper insight into the Renaissance shows that its revolutionary, negative, and spectacular aspect is not its whole significance. No doubt a strong, universal, and well-centralized government and a unity of faith are social ideals. The reverence in which the name of Rome was held long after the empire had been destroyed, and the reluctance with which the first Protestants separated themselves from the Catholic church, show that the loss
14 HISTORY OF THILOSOPIIY
of such a unity is a real loss. But the church of the Middle Ages was not the carrier of all the treasure of the past, nor could the church with its own inherent limitations stand as representative of modern times. The new problem which the Renaissance faced might be destructive of much of the traditional past, but it contained many new elements. The " new man " found himself in a " new universe." He was obliged to under- take the solution of a far deeper problem than antiquity had ever attempted. He must orient himseK in a larger world than the past had ever imagined. He must do this in the very presence of mediseval institutions, which had not lost their spiritual nor their temporal power. The constructive problem before the man of the Renais- sance was therefore an exceedingly complex one. How should he explain his relation to the " new universe " in a way that would not antagonize tradition ? It was a new problem, a real problem in which the traditional factor was always persistently present.
There were two motifs which give to the problem of the Renaissance its constructive character. These were naturalism and suhjectivism.. In the first place, the Renaissance is the j^eriod when the naturalism of the Greeks was recovered. By naturalism is meant the love for earthly life. Of this the mediaeval church and the mediseval time had little or nothing. The church had been born out of the revulsion from the earthly, and it rose on the aspiration for the supernatural. The Renaissance was, on the contrary, born out of a passion- ate joy in nature, which joy was intensified by the un expected possession of the literature of the past and by the discovery of new lands beyond the seas. Man felt now the happiness and dignity of earthly living and the
THE RENAISSANCE 15
wortli of tlie body as well as the soul. In the next place^ the Renaissance is marked by the rise of subjectivism. At the beginning of our book we have already given the meaning of subjectivism (see vol. i, p. 2), and we have characterized modern civilization as subjective in distinc- tion from the ancient as objective and the Middle Ages as traditional. We have also found, as we have gone on, the beginnings of subjectivism in the Sophists, Stoics, and Christians. But in the Renaissance for the first time does the individual as a rational self gain the central position. This is subjectivism : the individual is not only the interpreter of the universe, but also its mental creator. Of the subjective motif in modern times the Renaissance marks the inauguration, and Ger- man Idealism the culmination. While the world of the ancients was cosmo-centric and the mediaeval world was theo-centric, the world of the modern man is ego-centric. The love of life, and the love of life because the indi- vidual feels his own capacity for life — this is the situa- tion presented to the man of the Renaissance. Thus in the restoration of naturalism and in the construction of subjectivism did the Renaissance stand for positive upbuilding, in spite of the fact that in all this the period was constrained by the powerful tradition of the church.
The Two Periods of the Renaissance: The Hu- manistic (1453-lGOO); The Natural Science (1000- 1690). The Renaissance is divided into two periods at the year 1600. The reason for taking this date as a division line will soon appear. The period before 1600 we call the Humanistic, or the period of the Humani- ties ; the period after this date the Natural Science Period.
16 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
(a) The Similarities of the Two Periods. These two periods are alike in having the same motives. Both feel the same urgent need (1) for new knowledge, (2) for a new standard by which to measure their new know- ledge, (3) for a new method of gaining knowledge. From the beginning to the end of the Renaissance the " new man " was feeling his way about, was trying to orient and readjust himself in his " new universe." He was seeking new acquisitions to his rich stores of know- ledge, to systematize his knowledge by some correct method, and to set up some standard by which his know- ledge might be tested.
(6) The Differences of the Two Periods. There are, however, some marked differences in the carrying out of these motives by each period, and to these we must give our attention.
(1) The Countries v:)hic1i participate in the Renais- sance differ in the Two Periods. In the Humanistic Period Italy and Germany were chiefly concerned. There are two reasons for this. In the first place, these countries had been engaged in commerce with the Ori- ent, had become prosperous and more or less acquainted with the culture of the Orient. In the second place, Italy had been the refuge of the Greek scholars ; when the colony of Greek refugees in Florence had died out in 1520, northerners like Erasmus, Agricola, Reuchlin, the Stephani, and Budseus had luckily already made themselves masters of the Greek language and liter- ature, and had carried their learning into Germany.
In the Natural Science Period the Renaissance had practically become dead both in Germanj'^ and in Italy. The reason for this is not far to seek. In Italy, in 1563, the Council of Trent had fixed the dogma of the church
THE RENAISSANCE 17
and had made it impossible for the church to assimilate anything more from antiquity. The so-called Counter- Reformation set in, and Italy became dumb under the persecutions of the Inquisition. Furthermore, the dis- covei'y of the sea-route to the East had turned com- merce away from Italy. When we look to Germany, we find a similar situation. The Thirty Years' War (1618-1648) had devastated the laud and had made intellectual life wholly impossible.
On the other hand, England, France, and the Low Countries represent the Natural Science Period in the Renaissance. By the War of Liberation (1568-1648) Holland became the European country where the great- est freedom of thought was granted, and it proved itself an asylum for thinkers and scholars. France, through the influence of the University of Paris, was the centre of mathematical research. In England the brilliant Elizabethan era had already begun.
(2) The Intellectual Standards differ in the Two Periods. The Humanistic Period has been well char- acterized as the time of " the struggle of traditions." Naturally enough, with the revival of Greek learning the thinkers of the first period of the Renaissance would try to solve the new problems by the standards Avhicb they found in antiquity. What did Aristotle, Plato, the Epicureans say in matters of science ? What stand- ards did they yield for solving the new problems of the " new universe " ? The traditions of antiquity were therefore revived ; and the contention was, Which should be taken as a standard? Among all the ancient systems neo-Platonism became the most prominent. It dominated the Humanistic Period because its aesthetic character and its mystical explanations appealed to the
18 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
susceptible mind of that time. Nevertheless, the sway of neo-Platonism was not absolute. The " struggle of traditions " continued throughout the period, as appears in the schisms of the church and in the literary and philosophical contentions.
The Natural Science Period, in its hope of finding a standard to explain the problems of the " new universe," discovered a new standard within the " new universe " itself. No tradition of antiquity had proved itself ade- quate to the situation. Nothing could be found in Plato and Aristotle to give a theoretic standard for the new discoveries and inventions. Nature disclosed its own standard within itself. The Natural Science Period said nature facts rmist he explained hy nature facts. But the question will naturally be asked. Why did the thinkers of this period, when the theories of antiquity were found to be inadequate, turn to nature rather than elsewhere for an explanation of nature ? The an- swer to this is found in the great successes of the physi- cal astronomers, who had started their investigations at the beginningof the Humanistic Period, and had reached the zenith of their glory at the beginning of the Natural Science Period. The discoveries of Galileo were especially important.
(3) The Scientific Methods in the Two Periods were Different. The method usually employed in the Hu- manistic Period was magic. This first period tried to explain nature facts of the " new universe " by refer- ring them to agencies in the spiritual world. In their neo-Platonic nature-worship the scholars of this period imacfined tliat the control of nature was to be obtained by a fanciful linking of the parts of nature to the spirits supposed to be in nature. The Bible is the product of
THE RENAISSANCE " 19
the spiritual world, so why is not the "new nature- world " inspired from the same source ? God is the first cause of all things ; He is in all things and each finite thing mirrors Him. All things have souls. To gain con- trol over nature, some all-controlling formula must be found which will reveal the secret of the control of spirits over nature ; and to master the spirits that con- trol nature is to control nature herself. Hence arose, as the methods of this first period, magic, trance-medium- ship, necromancy, alchemy, conjurations, and astrology. Antiquity could offer (and especially is this true of Pla- tonism) only spiritual causes for nature facts, — hence the search in this time for the philosopher's stone. There was never a blinder groping after a method.
The scientific method used in the Natural Science Period was the mathematical. The world of experience was found to coincide with the number systewi, and therefore mathematics was used as the symbol to deter- mine the form of nature events. Incluclion and. deduc- tion wp.r^ nsftfl ^'p fliffpTzenf. nnmltt-wafinns The period has been characterized as the time of " the strife of methods." Induction and deduction became in fact the new methods of finding the truth about the " new world." Whatever is clear and distinct, like the axioms, must be taken as true. All other knowledge must be deduced from these axiomatic certainties. In contrast with the magical methods of the Humanistic Period, which point beyond nature for an explanation of na- ture, here in the Natural Science Period mathematics need not lead the explanation farther than nature her- self.
(4) Tlie Attitude of the Church toward Science differs in. the Two Periods. In the Humanistic Period
20 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the attitude of the church toward the new leaiiuug was not yet defined. This was because the bearing of the new learning upon dogma was not yet understood. On the one hand, on matters upon which the church had clearly declared itself, it was easily seen what could and what could not be believed. But, on the other hand, the significance of much of the wealth of the newly acquired learning could not at first be fully determined. The en- thusiasm for science was so widespread, and the new discoveries were so many, that the church was unable to know what was consistent with dogma and what was not. At the outset the church was inclined to treat the new science with contemptuous toleration. Nevertheless, in spite of the new intellectual intoxication there was no real freedom of thought. The position of science was merely precarious, uncertain, and undefined.
In the Natural Science Period this uncertainty was dispelled because dogma came into violent conflict with science. It was soon found that questions in physics involved metaphysics, and that the new science touched the church doctrines at every point. In 15G3 the church authorities at the Council of Trent settled dogma for all time. Great conflicts arose between the church and the secularizing spirit. The scientist became wary. He tried to avoid any intrusion upon the field of theology, and he insisted that his own field existed quite inde- pendent of theological dogma. But practically it was impossible for science not to take heretical positions, and this was especially true of the Rationalistic School, which tried to construct a new scholasticism. Safe in- dependence of thought was not gained until the next period (the Enlightenment), and this was brought to pass by political changes.
THE RENAISSANCE 21
A Brief Contrast of the Two Periods — A Summary of the Discussion above. The Humanistic Period.
(1) The Time — 1453-1600.
(2) Tlie Countries Concerned — Italy and Ger- many.
(3) The Intellectual Standards — Neo-Platonism and other theories of antiquity.
(4) The Method — magic.
(5) The Relation of Science to the Church — precarious and uncertain.
The Natural Science Period.
(1) The Time — 1600-1690.
(2) The Countries Concerned — England, France, and the Low Countries.
(3) The Intellectual Standard — the mechanism of nature facts.
(4) The Method — induction and mathematical deduction in various combinations.
(5) The Relation of Science to the Church — so definitely stated as to be placed in conflict with dogma.
CHAPTER III
THE HUMANISTIC PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE (1453-1600)
The Long List of Representatives of the Human- istic Period. There was a revival of scholasticism^ — Paulus Barbus Socinas (cl. 1494), Cajetan (d. 1534), Ferrariensis (d. 1528), Melchior Cano (d. 1560), Do- minicus de Soto (d, 1560), Dominicus Banez (d. 1604), John of St. Thomas (d. 1644), Vasquez (d. 1604), Toletus (d. 1596), Fonseca (d. 1599), Suarez (d. 1617), John the Englishman (d. 1483), Johannes Magistri (d. 1482), Antonius Trombetta (d. 1518), Maurice the Irishman (d. 1513). Among the Human- ists were Pletho, Bessarion (d. 1472), Lorenzo Valla (d. 1457), Marsilio Ficino (d. 1499), Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (d. 1494), Francesco Pico della Mi- randola (d. 1533), Theodore of Gaza (d. 1478), Agric- ola (d. 1485), George of Trebizond (d. 1484), Justus Lipsius (d. 1606), Schoppe (b. 1562), Paracelsus (d. 1541), Reuchlin (d. 1522), Fludd (d. 1637), Montaigne (d. 1592), Charron (d. 1603), Sanchez (d. 1632), Pomponatius (d. 1530), Achillini (d. 1518), Nifo (d. 1546), Petrus Ramus (d. 1572), Scaliger (d. 1558). The Italian nature philosophers were Car- dano (d. 1576), Telesio (d. 1588), Patrizzi (d. 1597), Bruno (d. 1600), Campanella (d. 1639). The notable scientists were Cusanus (d. 1464), Copernicus (d. 1543), Tycho Brahe (d. 1601), Kepler (d. 1631).
HUMANISTIC PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE 23
Tne Protestant 3fystics were Luther (d. 1546), ZwingH (d. 1531), Franck (d. 1545), Weigel (d. 1588), Boehme (d. 1624). The political jihilosophers were Macchiavelli (d. 1527), Thomas More (d. 1535), Jean Bodin (d. 1597), Gentilis (d. 1611), Althusius (d. 1638), Hugo Grotius (d. 1645).
As examples of the first epoch of the Renaissance * we have selected Cusanus (1401-1464), Paracelsus (1493-1541), and Bruno (1548-1600). These three men will represent fairly well the wide interests of this epoch, and more especiaEy its neo-Platonic spirit and its methods. The reader will see from their dates that the lives of these three philosophers nearly cover the Humanistic Period. Cusanus lived during the last half century of the Middle Ages and the first decade of the Humanistic Period ; Paracelsus's life covers the middle of the Humanistic Period ; Bruno lived during the last part of the period, and his death (1600) coincides with the last year of the period. All three were neo-Plato- nists. They had been so impressed with the nature- world that had opened before them that they were mystic nature- worshipers — pantheists, to whom neo-Platonism became the truest philosophical standard. All three were scientists in different degrees. Yet Cusanus, the cardinal of the church, and Bruno, the speculative phi- losopher, contributed more to science than Paracelsus, who aspired to medical science. This seeming incon- sistency in their lives is not difficult to explain. Para- celsus merely reflects the science of the time ; while Cusanus and Bruno anticipate the Natural Science Period — the one by his empirical discoveries, the
* Read Eiicken, Problem of Human Life, jjp. 323-331 ; Windelband, Hist, of Phil., pp. 352-354.
24 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
other by his mystic speculations which were almost prophecies.
Nicolas of Cusa (1401-1464). Modern German scholars place Nicolas of Cusa (Nicolas Cusanus) with Bacon and Descartes, as the leaders of the modern philo- sophical movement. Nicolas lived two hundred years be- fore Descartes and one hundred j'^ears before Bacon. The German estimate of him shews at least that he was modern in his thought, although he belongs in time to the Middle Ages for the most part. He lived when the Middle Ages were passing over into the Renaissance. His principal work, the Idiota, was published in 1450, when the Renaissance was on the threshold. He was certainly a forerunner of modern times. He was a Ger- man, a cardinal, and is now reverenced by liberal Cath- olics as one of their deepest thinkers.
Cusanus was a scientist of no small merit. He died before the great discoveries were made ; but he antici- pated Copernicus in his belief that the earth rotated on its axis ; he anticipated Bruno in conceiving space to be boundless and time unending ; he proposed a re- form in the calendar ; he was the first to have a map of Germany engraved. He condemned the prevalent superstitions of the church and the use of magic in explaining nature events. Thus he anticipated the sci- ence of the time of Bacon, Hobbes, and Descartes, and transcended his own period.
In other respects Cusanus belongs in this j^eriod with Bruno and Paracelsus. He did not seek to discover a new method ; but he turned back to the revived traditional Greek systems for an explanation of the " new world." He found in the mystic numbers of Plato and the Pythagoreans the principle of all scientific investiga-
HUMANISTIC PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE 25
tion. The world of nature phenomena must be ac- counted for by the spiritual world. Cusanus uses almost the identical language of Bruno, when he says that the world is the mirror of God and that man is an epitome of the universe. In the neo-Platonic spirit of the Hu- manists, he regarded the world as a soul-possessing and articulate Oneness. Although a scientist, he conceived science to be only a conjecture, which in its unreality reveals the inner interconnections of the real world — the world of the spirit.
Paracelsus (1493-1541). Paracelsus did not tran- scend his time as did Cusanus. He merely expressed it. He was the exponent of its science as Bruno was the representative of its poetic speculation. Paracelsus was a much-traveled Swiss, who tried to reform the prac- tice of medicine by a kind of magical chemistry. The poet Browning makes his adventures the basis of a poem. As a physician Paracelsus could employ the magic arts without much danger of the charge of her- esy, for the practice of the magic art was theoretically justified by the neo-Platonism of the time. The Faust of Goethe is at first a Paracelsus. The universal spirit behind nature presents itself in an infinite niamber of spiritual individuals. Nature facts are to be understood and mastered by luiderstanding the activities of these spiritual forces. In this way medicine became a brew- ing of tinctures, magical drinks, and secret remedies. It was an alchemy which grew to the proportions of a science. The alchemists of the time expected to discover a panacea against disease, which would give them the highest power. This is the meaning of the " philoso- pher's stone," which was to heal all diseases, transmute everything into gold, and bring all spirits into the power
26 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of its possessor. Paracelsus thus turned back to Greek hylozoism for the truth about physiology and the cure of disease ; and he met with some degree of personal success, for his physics had many adherents both in theory and in practice.*
In the neo-Platonic manner Paracelsus conceived the world as fundamentally a developing vital principle (Vulcanus). Man is this cosmic force individualized (Archaeus). The laws that operate in the world are the same as in man, except that in man they are hidden. The study of nature's laws, as they lie open, will reveal how those same laws operate in a human being. Now the vital principle in nature manifests itself in three realms : the terrestrial, the astral or celestial, and the spiritual or divine. The Archseus or vital principle in man must have the same realms of activity. There is man's body, which gets its strength from the terrestrial realm of nature ; man's mind, which is nourished by the stars ; man's soul, that feeds on faith in Christ. Perfect health, therefore, consists in the sympathetic interaction of these three realms in man. A complete medicine cor sists of physics, astronomy, and theology.
But Paracelsus was a chemist, and the terrestrial na- ture of man was his peculiar interest. The theologian may prescribe for the human soul, and it is the duty of the astronomer to care for the human intellect ; but the practical physician must understand the human body. Here is the Archaeus imprisoned in the gi-oss terrestrial body ! It is in continual warfare with that body. What is the nature of that body which is so hostile to the human vital principle ? Here Paracelsus introduces his
* Read Falckenberg, Hist, of Modern Phil., pp. 27-28 ; Browning, Paracelsus ; Goethe, Fanst, lines 1-165.
HUMANISTIC PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE 27
strange chemical analysis which characterizes him as a Renaissance physician. Nature has three essences of which all bodies are composed : (1) mercury, that makes bodies liquid ; (2) sulphur, that makes them combusti- ble ; (3) salt, that makes them rigid. These essences are compounded in such a way that from them the four elements — earth, air, water, and fire — are derived. Each one of these elements is controlled by elemental spirits. The earth is controlled by gnomes, the water by undines, the air by sylphs, and the fire by salamanders. Thus the chemical analysis of Paracelsus discovers four sets of spirits with which the physician is obliged to deal. Gnomes, sylphs, undines, and salamanders are in warfare with the human vital principle for control. When the Archaeus is in any way checked by these, there is disease ; when the Archaeus has them under control, the man has health. The medicines that the physician administers are determined by their effective- ness in helping the Archaeus in its battle against the hostile spirits. This makes medicine a field for the magician in the control of spirits.
Giordano Bruno (1548-1600) , The neo-Platonic spirit of the Humanistic Period reached its most complete development in the aesthetic philosophy of Giordano Bruno. He sang the world-joy of the aesthetic Renais- sance. Italy ordained him priest, exiled him as heretic, and then burned him at the stake as recalcitrant. Italy has produced very few great speculators since his day. The Council of Trent met when he was fifteen years old ; already the counter-Reformation had begun in Italy, and Italy was soon to become an intellectually arid waste. The influence of Bruno appears in Spinoza and perhaps in Leibnitz. His one contribution to modern science was
28 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
in Iiis inspired conception that because God is infinite, the world is infinite in space and time. The philosophers who influenced his thought were Pythagoras, Plato, Plotinus, and Lucretius.
The fundamental thought of the Humanistic Period was expressed by Bruno in his imaginative conception of the divine beauty of the living All. Poet as well as philosopher, he was consumed by a love for nature as a beautiful religious object. He revolted from all asceti- cism and scholasticism. The *•' new world " in which he found himself was to him the emblem of God. The thought of that chief of neo-Platonists, Plotinus, of the beauty of the universe had never been so sympathetically regarded as by the Renaissance; in the hands of Bruno this beauty became the manifestation of the divine Idea. Philosophy, aesthetics, and religion were identical to him. To express his thought he employed the usual neo- Platonic symbol of the all-forming and all-animating light. Bruno was no patient student of natural phe- nomena as such, but a lover of the great illumination of nature facts by the great soul behind them. He was not interested in any single group of phenomena, as was Paracelsus ; but he loved them all as a religion. Not only externally but internally is the universe an eternal harmony. When one gazes upon it with the enthusiasm of a poet, its apparent defects will vanish in the har- mony of the whole. Man needs no special theology, for the world is perfect because it is the life of God. Bruno is a universalistic optimist and a mystic poet. Before this cosmic harmony man should never utter complaint, but should bow in reverence. True science is religion and morality.
Since Bruno conceived no theodicy (proof of the
HUMANISTIC PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE 29
goodness and justice of God) to be necessary, he did not define in exact terms his conception of God. Never- theless, to escape the charge of atheism, he distinguished between the universe and the world. For him God = the universe = nature = matter = the principle immanent in the world. The " world," on the other hand, = the sum-total of nature phenomena. The " world " is the body of God, and God is the soul of the " world." God is natura naturans ; the w^orld is natura naturata.^ Just as the sum of the parts of man's body does not equal the man himself, so to identify God with the totality of objects of nature is atheism in the true sense. It is to make God a finite being, although very big. In opposition to this, Bruno conceives God as the one substance manifesting himself through all things. This is to magnify God and to make him really omni- present.
Nevertheless, Bruno is involved in all the inconsist- encies of the Mystic. In a neo-Platonic fashion he fre- quently speaks of God as if he were a plural number of atoms. God is not only the world unity, but in every particle of the world is He writ small. The elements of the world are monads, and each is the mirror of the All. The Absolute is the primal unity ; and yet in the paradoxical fashion in which the neo-Platonist is so successful, Bruno says that all creation is unfolded out of God and is included in him. The speculative poet is so in love with the world that he does not stop to make consistent the distinctions which he has
' These two phrases will be found ag'ain in the philosophy of Spi- noza. Nature is conceived as having' two aspects : one is natura natu- rans, or God as the nniiiiatiiifj principle of nature ; the other is natura naturata, or the world as materialized forms or effects.
30
HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
drawn. The natura naturans and the natura natu- rata^ the unity and plurality of the world, are the two aspects of the reality in his own life — and that reality is God.
MAP SHOWING THE BIRTHPLACES OF THE CHIEF PHILOSOPHERS OF THE RENAISSANCE
(The names of the philosophers are given in brackets beneath tlie towns In which they were born)
CHAPTER IV
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE (1600-1690)*
The Philosophers of the Natural Science Period.
1. Galileo, 1564-1641, and the group of scientists.
2. Bacon, 1561-1626.
3. Hobbes, 1588-1679.
4. The Rationalists.
Descartes, 1596-1650,
Spinoza, 1632-1677.
Leibnitz, 1646-1716. Countries other than Italy and Germany come upon the philosophic stage during the eighty-nine years of the period of teeming natural science. England is re- presented by Bacon and Hobbes, France by Descartes, Holland by the Jew, Spinoza, and, at the end of. the period, Germany by Leibnitz. Still Italy yields the most influential thinker of them all, — Galileo, who is the most prominent of a long series of astronomers coming from many countries. The most completely re- presentative is Descartes, who was the founder of the Rationalistic school ; for he was not only interested in mathematics itself, but in the application of mathema- tics to metaph3'sical questions. Neither as influential as Galileo, nor as comprehensive as Descartes, the Eng- lishmen, Bacon and Hobbes, were nevertheless import- ant as the forerunners of the English empirical school. Spinoza is more of a " world's philosopher " than any of the others, and he joins in his doctrine the scholasti-
* Read Windelband, Hist, of Phil, pp. 378-379.
32 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
cisra of the Middle Ages and the mathematics of the lienaissance ; while Leibnitz occupies the jDOsition be- tween the Enlightenment and the Renaissance.
The Mathematical Astronomers. After enthusias- tically canvassing the traditional theories of antiquity, the Humanists had been unable to find one which would explain and organize the newly accumulated ma- terials of their " new world." But working in more or less narrow circles, natural science had already made a beginning in the midst of the Humanists. Beginning with Copernicus, an interest in physics and astronomy had been aroused, but in these early days it was more speculative than empirical. The speculations of the astronomers had but little influence upon their own time. However, when the ancient theories proved in- adequate to explain the facts of the " new world," and especially when the empirical researches of Galileo confirmed the speculations of his predecessors, the Re- naissance turned away from antiquity to nature herself for an explanation. This was about the year 1600, the year of the beginning of the Natural Science period. The most prominent of these astronomers were —
Copernicus, 1473-1543, a Pole.
Bruno, 1548-1600, an Italian.
Tycho Brahe, 1546-1601, a Dane.
Kepler, 1571—1630, a German.
Galileo, 1564-1641, an Italian.
Huyghens, 1629-1695, a Hollander.
Newton, 1642-1722, an Englishman.
While the greatest of these scientists is Newton, who belongs to the next period, the most influential is Gal- ileo. Modern methods in science began with Galileo. Of the four predecessors of Galileo three — Coperni-
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 33
cus, Tyclio Bralie, and Bruno — are in spirit Human- ists ; for their final explanation of nature is the world of spirits. Kepler belongs to both the Humanistic and Natural Science periods ; for at first he constructed his natural science by an amalgamation of the doctrine of spirits and the Copernican theory ; but in the latter part of his life he adopted completely the mechanical view of nature. The above scientists maybe divided for convenience into two groups : (1) the speculative scf entists before Galileo ; (2) Galileo and the following empirical investigators.
For fourteen centuries the ancient Ptolemaic astro- nomy had been regarded by the learned as beyond ques- tion. Although complex and unwieldy, it explained all phenomena satisfactorily enough as they appeared to tlie senses ; and it brought phenomena into a system. (The Ptolemaic system has been fully described in vol. i, pp. 322 ff.) To recapitulate it : the world-all was conceived as a hollow sphere with the earth as the cen- tre and the fixed stars in the periphery, while the planets were supposed to move in epic} cles. The universe was divided into the heavenly and terrestrial realms, which were occupied by various spirits. God resided outside this hollow sphere and held it, as it were, in his lap.
The history of the changes leading up to our modern astronomical conception makes a vivid chapter. How Copernicus contributed the idea of placing the sun at the centre of things, Kepler the idea of the orbits of the planets as ellipses, Bruno tlie idea of the boundless- ness of space and time, and how Galileo, corroborating these tlieories by empirical investigations, was put un- der the ban of the church — all this shows what heroism must have been required to tear down a time-honored
34 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
and firmly intrenched traditional conception. Probably the speculative astronomers were not conscious that they were undermining the whole astronomical struc- ture, and probably their sole motive was to simplify the Ptolemaic conception, not to destroy it. For Copernicus accepted the Ptolemaic system, except that he put the sun instead of the earth at the centre, and thereby sim- plified it by making- many of the epicycles unnecessary ; and Kepler simplified it further by supplantins' the epi- cycles with ellipses. However, the result was inevitably an entirely new conception of the universe, and with it a new conception of the relation among particular ma- terial things. It was in this way that new scientific methods arose.
The universe now comes to be regarded as a me- chanism, and what was formerly looked upon as the influence of spirits or as Providential guidance becomes an impersonal law of causal necessity. In the heavens above and the earth beneath there are no longer vital forces and supernatural influences. The universe he- comes a homogeneotis whole throughout, in which there is no difference between the fall of an apple and the revolution of the planets, no distinction between terrestrial and celestial spheres. The Christian heaven is nowhere in it ; the Mediaeval spirits are banished from it. The Greek gods have been pushed out, and the Christian God has been made to stand aside.
The demand that the new conception of the universe be verified in concrete experiments, if it were to replace the old Ptolemaic system, the revival of the study of Archimedes, the rivalry in trade and inventions among the Italian towns, were three causes for the demand for greater exactness. Investigation, experiment, and inven-
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 35
tion came into vogue. Magic, alchemy, astrology, and conjurations were no longer accepted as serious methods. In the Middle Ages deduction had been purely the logical employment of the syllogism in theological discussions, while induction, so far as it was used at all, had been the reference of nature phenomena to spiritual forces. Now deduction and induction ^ come to be used for other purposes, and mathematics is necessarily conjoined with both. The new Natural Science period is essentially a " strife of methods " ; it is the period when the true plan of scientific procedure is being determined. It is here that the importance and influence of Galileo is seen upon modern science and philosophy.
The influence of mathematics in modern times grew up from these astronomical beginnings among the Humanists ; and the Natural Science period with its contention as to methods was the immediate result. Bacon, for example, regarded final causes as one of the " idols." Hobbes maintained that physics has only to do with efficient causes ; Descartes held that it is auda- cious in man to think of reading the purposes of God in nature ; while Spinoza thought it absurd to attribute di- vine purpose to nature. By degrees everything in nature came to be regarded as a mechanism, and there was no distinction between the animate and the inanimate. The discovery of the mechanical circulation of the blood by Harvey, in 1626, became a vigorous impulse toward the mechanical study of animal life. Descartes regarded animals as complex automata and on this line he published essays on dioptrics, musical law, and the
^ Induction and deduction are methods of reasoning'. Induction is the method of beginning with particular cases and inferring from them a general conclusion. Deduction is the opposite metliod of reasoning.
36 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
fcetiis. Hobbes applied mechanical law to psycbologi- cal phenomena. The study of reflex action was carried on with great vigor in the Low Countries and France. The mechanical theory was rendered complete in this early time by the exclusion of the soul from the ex- planation of the body of man, just as God had been pushed into the background of the universe.
Galileo GaUlei (1564-1641).* The dates of the life of Galileo show him to have been a younger contem- porary of Bruno, and, like Bruno, to have been a victim of the ecclesiastical reaction that was sweeping away all scientific freedom in Italy. But while Bruno belonged both chronologically and in spirit to the first period of the Renaissance, Galileo is the true beginner of the sec- ond period. Bruno was a philosopher of nature, while Galileo was a true scientist. Galileo gave to all future thought a wisely formulated method of dealing ivith the new materials of the nature world. His laws of projectiles, falling bodies, and the pendulum created a new theory of motion. He set the hypothesis of Coper- nicus upon an experimental basis and made the future work of Newton possible. He was professor at the Uni- versities of Padua and Pisa, and he was mathemati- cian and philosopher at the court of Tuscany. That he perjured himself and thereby saved his life fi'om the Inquisition, there is no doubt ; but instead of death he had an old age of great bitterness. He gave open adherence to the Copernican system in 1610, when he constructed a telescope and discovered the satellites of Jupiter ; and after this there followed discovery after
* Read HofiPding, Hist, of Phil., vol. i, p. 175 ; Ball, Hist, of Math., pp. 249 ff. ; Falckeubeig, Hist, of Mod. Phil, pp. 59 fe.
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 37
discovery, like the spots on tlie sun and the phases of Venus, which latter discovery confirmed the Coj)ernican hypothesis. He invented the hydrostatic balance, the proportional compass, the thermoscope, microscope, and telescope. His two most noteworthy writings are The Dialogue concerning the Two Most Important Worlcl- Systems, and Investigations into Tioo New Sciences.
As to method^ Galileo objected to formal logic, that it is not a means of discovering new truth, although valuable as a corrective of thought. New truth is dis- covered when we frame an hypothesis from certain ex- periences, and then infer the truth of other cases from that hypothesis. The hypothesis is first formed by in- duction from a few characteristic cases ; the inference to other cases is made by deduction. He therefore linked induction and deduction closely together, and conceived them as necessarily complementary in scientific inves- tigation. Either induction or deduction alone is absurd and impossible. By induction alone we should be obliged to examine all cases, an impossible undertaking. By deduction alone we should be in the same straits as the Scholastics, and never discover new laws. We must be- gin with our perceptual experiences and make an induc- tion from them ; then we must bring mathematics into use in constructing the hypothesis from which to deduce (calculate) new cases. This is the true, modern method and reveals the great genius of Galileo.
A mathematical law never exactly coincides with any particular concrete relations. A mathematical law is an hypothesis or ideal construction. What value, then, has a mathematical law for science ? The orbits of planets i
^ An example used by Galileo is the law of the velocity of falling bodies in empty space.
38 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
are described as ellipses, but no actual planet moves in a perfect ellipse. The ellipse is an hypothetical, mathe- matical orbit for a planet which has no disturbing influ- ences upon it. We get at such a law by the method of concomitant variations ; ^ and the value of it consists in the simplification and system that it gives the facts. For example, knowing that a planet would move in an ellipse if it suffered no perturbations, and then knowing the influences upon any particular planet, we can cal- culate its orbit. Mathematical law, although ideal, is the common rule under which all nature phenomena can be brought. However, only by measurements founded on the tests of observation and experiment can we know how far the claims of such deduction are sup- ported. Measure everything measurable, and calcu- late the measurement of those things not directly measurable.
Nature, therefore, must be called ujDon to explain her own phenomena. Since the laws of nature are found by investigating nature phenomena as we experience them, the laws must be a part of nature and can be found nowhere else. To explain nature phenomena by referring them to spiritual influence is no real exj^lana- tion. To say that God moves the planets is to involve the subject in mystery. Here is where Galileo shows that he does not belong to the Scholastics or the Mystics or the Humanists. He searched for some constant ele- ment, and not for a " vital force " behind nature phe- nomena. He declared this constant element to be motion — measurable motion. He is the author of the tlieory that mechanics is the mathematical tlieory of motion.
1 The name, "concomitant variations," was later given by John Stuart Mill.
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 39
Science was therefore taken by him out of the paralyz- ing grip of the theologian.
The Life of Francis Bacon, Baron Verulam (1561- 162G). Francis Bacon was a native of London and re- ceived his university education at Cambridge. He was in the English diplomatic service at an early age, but he later returned to London and took up the legal profes- sion. At the age of tliirty-two he entered Parliament and became immediately distinguished as a debater. At forty-three he became legal adviser of the crown, and when he was fifty-six he was made Lord Chancellor. After a brilliant career in public office he was accused and convicted of bribery and corruption, deposed from office, and heavily fined. His most notable writings are his Essays^ two parts of his uncompleted Instauratio Magna^ viz., De Dignitate et Aitgmentls Scientiarum and Nov^im Organum., and his New Atlantis, a Uto- pian fragment.
The Position of Bacon in Philosophy. Tradition has frequently placed Bacon as the founder of modern phi- losophy. This estimate is due to a remark by Diderot, which was repeated by many French writers. The esti- mate, however, rests on a misapprehension of Bacon's influence. Bacon was more of a Humanist than a tech- nical philosopher, and in his constructive philosophy he seems not only to have had no influence upon his contemporaries, but also to have been uninfluenced by them. He was unconscious of the influence of Kepler and Galileo and their mighty scientific constructions. Bacon's Novum Organum, which embodies his scientific methods, had no influence upon his own time, nor was it read in the seventeenth century. Its influence was first felt in the eighteenth century. However, all this
40 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
must be qualified in one respect. Bacon's New Atlan- tis did have an immediate influence. The ideal of a college of science, which Bacon presented in his New Atlantis, was not only the cause of the work of Diderot in his JEncyclopedia in the eighteenth century, but what is more important, it had effect in his own time. It led to the founding of the Royal Society, thirty-six years after Bacon's death, and later to the founding of similar academies abroad. While the reader may be confused by the conflicting estimates of Bacon, the words of his own countryman, Sir David Brewster, may be accepted as embodying the truth : " Had Bacon never lived, the student of nature would have found in the works and writings of Galileo not only the principles of inductive philosophy, but also its practical application to the no- blest efforts of invention and discovery." So far from being the founder of modern science, Bacon developed only one side of it, the inductive side, and that without success. He identified deduction with the Aristotelian syllogism, and he was therefore unaware of the import- ance of the use of mathematics in the method of deduc- tion. He did not seem to have the slightest idea that mathematics was going to be the scientific method ; consequently science has gone much further than Bacon dreamed it would go. Bacon's importance in the Renais- sance does not consist in his contribution to the content of philosophy or to his successful formulation of the scientific method.
Wherein then lies the value of Bacon's work as a philosopher?* Bacon was the first in England to col-
* Read Ball, Hist, of Math., pp. 253 ff. ; HoflEdini,^, Hist, of Mod. Phil, \u\. i, I'p. 184-186 ; Macaulay, Essay on Bacon; Bacon, Essays, — Studies, Truth, Friendship,
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 41
lect the fruits of the Renaissance and give them a secu- lar character. Taking them out of the hands of the theo- logian, he, a lawyer, " gave them a legal existence by the most eloquent plea that has ever been made for them." It was a time when philosophy and science were passing out of the hands of the theologian ; and Bacon, feeling that science, including philosophy, should be secu- larized, drew a sharp line between the work of science and that of theology. Out of his great contempt for antiquity. Bacon voiced for England the contemporary reaction against the old scholastic methods. He set uj) the ideal and gave directions for following it. He issued the call to go from abstractions back to things. A man of worldly wisdom and pungency, his nature was buoy- ant in its belief in the coming age. He had confidence amounting to an optimism that final principles would be found to explain all the particulars of the " new world." He was a prophet who outlined his prophecy. He felt that not only nature but all the activities of man would be reduced to some simple principles. He shared and expressed the confidence of his time that wonderful things were to be revealed ; that nothing is impossible to man, provided man hits upon the right key to nature's secrets. Just as every age, that feels itself upon the threshold of a new epoch, writes Utopias, i so Bacon wrote the New Atlantis^ the Utopian fragment, for his age. This is the literary expression of his optimism
Simulation, and Dissimulation ; Abbott, Francis Bacon; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 336-344 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 24-56.
1 Bacon wrote his New Atlantis in 1G23. The same year Campanella wrote liis State of the Sun, and the preceding year Thomas More wrote his Utopia.
42 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
about the future of a distinctively secular science. The world of the New Atlantis is the world of new ma- chines. Bacon's most ambitious scientific contribution to the same end is his Instauratio Magna. Of this only two parts were completed : De Dignitaie et Aitgtnen- tis Scientiarum and Novum Organum. Bacon is best known in philosophy by the second part, which was thus named to contrast it with the "old" Organum of Aristotle.
The high influence that Bacon gained later among philosophers may therefore be accounted for by the association of his eminent position and wonderful per- sonality with his bold expression of this congenial utili- tarianism. Even in that rich Elizabethan age of English literature, he was prominent as a writer and politician. He had occupied high political positions luider James I ; but his peculiar personality would in itself have at- tracted attention, for his genius was such that any of the products of that age — even the pla3^s of Shake- speare— have seemed possible to him. Pope describes him as " the wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." Macaulay says in his essay. Bacon., that there were many things that he loved more than virtue and many that he feared more than guilt. His career shows that he loved himself, wealth, and learning. His unusual love for learning may be safely taken as his excuse for his unscrupulous lust for wealth. His great versatility pre- vented his success in any one direction, but he had the power of expressing the feeling of his impressive age and of becoming its personal representative.
The Aim of Bacon. Bacon sought to secularize phi- losophy by making it the same as science. It was the age when Nature was conceived to be identical with the
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 43
world of the natural sciences. Bacon stood in this age us the formulator of the scientific usefulness of philosophy. Philosophy is to ameliorate social conditions and enrich human life by bringing nature under control. Ancient and mediaeval times had not been occupied with the im- provement of human society, but Bacon was inspired with the feeling of the modern statesman for such im- provement. The true test of philosophy, according to Bacon, is what it will do. That philosophy is worth while which will effectively remove the weighing condi- tions upon human society, so that there are no longer two classes, — those that sacrifice and those that satisfy their ambitions. This dominant utilitarian motive in Bacon sets hun in opposition to pure theoretical and contemplative knowledge, and makes him the father of utilitarianism and positivism ^ in England.* Know- ledge is the only kind of permanent power, and man can master the world when he gives up verbal discus- sions and belief in magic. Man must gain a positive insight into nature. Science and philosophy must be separated from theology, and philosophy must be re- duced to science. Thus while aiming to give a tangible form to the scholastic doctrine of the " twofold truth," Bacon through his utilitarianism missed the goal reached by Galileo and Descartes.
The Method of Bacon. Bacon says that the method of the scientist should not be like that of the spider
^ Utilitarianism regards adaptation to general happiness as the ideal of society. Positivism, broadly used, is that philosophy which limits the scope of thought to the observation of facts, although the observations are inferior to the facts. The data and methods of positivism are the same as those of natural science, and opposed to the a priori methods of metaphysics.
* In this connection read Herbert Spencer, Education.
44 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
that spins a web out of himself, nor like that of the ant which merely collects material, but like that of the bee which collects, assimilates, and transforms. Bacon's original inspiration had been his respect for method, and this grew more pronounced. Philosophy, i. e. sci- ence, is method. With Bacon we see the beginning of philosophy cut loose from personality and over-valued because it had mechanical accuracy. Nevertheless, the method of Bacon was very comprehensive. It included on the one hand a critical survey of the past, and on the other an anticipatory programme for the science of the future. Let us now turn to these two aspects of his method.
(a) Bacori's criticism of the past was a trenchant criticism of prevailing philosophy, and amounted to a break with the past. Bacon felt that what passed for science in his day was but a pretence. In the presence of the facts of life traditional science was but empty word^. The early thinkers are not the ancients. We are the ancients, for we embody in ourselves all the preceding centuries. Thus does Bacon swing from the mediaeval blind acceptance of the past to an equally blind rejection of the pastj_ But why did the ancient thinkers err ? Not because they were not men of talent, nor because they lacked in intellectual opportunity^; but because their method of procedure led them astray. The early thinkers followed wrong paths, and their re- sults, which we now possess, are vain.
What must be our attitude in the presence of this traditional philosophy? We must dispossess ourselves of the prejudices that have misled the past, for they form the obstacfeK-ttrmir true knowledge of the world. The roots of the errors that have infected philosophy
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 45
are " fantastic, contentious, and delicate learning." We must not, indeed, trust to our every-day perceptions; for although science is based on our perceptions, our every-day perceptions are corrupted by our uncritical habits of thought. Thus there have arisen perversions and falsifications, of which we must first of all be rid. Bacon calls these Idols.* Idols are false images, that intervene between us and the truth and are mistaken for reality. Bacon makes four general classes of Idols : —
(1) The Idols of the Tribe, or the presuppositions common to the human race.
(2) The Idols of the Cave,2 or individual preju- dices due to natural individual disposition, situation in life, etc.
(3) The Idols of the Forum, or the traditional mean- ings of words, by which we substitute the word for the idea. These are the worst illusions.
(4) The Idols of the Theatre,^ the theories or philo- sophic dogma, which command discipleship from groups of men and have not been subjected to our own criti- cism.
Bacon's classification of our prejudices as Idols is a critical attempt to separate, in what passes for know- ledge, the subjective, which has become traditional, fi-om the real. Logic, religion, and poetry have had a bad effect on science, as is especially shown in the theatrical character of philosophy.
(6) Having dispossessed ourselves of our prejudices or
^ Bacon chooses the word Idols, because it is the same as the Greek ■word for false forms (eidola, efSouAa).
- Bacon ia here alluding- to Plato's myth of the cave. Read Plato, Republic (Jowett's trans.), Bk. VII, 514 A-520 E.
^ Bacon is satirical here and is likening philosophical systems to stage- playa. '
46 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Idols, we are ready to proceed to a positive construc- tion of a scientific method of work. By what, in gen- eral, ought science to be guided? By induction and experience. Bacon suggests the following steps for the science of the future : —
(1) There must be an exhaustive collection of par- ticular instances.
(2) There must then be an analj^sis and comparison of these instances, for to Bacon induction was not a mere enumeration of single instances. Negative instances, and instances of difference of degree, must be taken into account. Hasty generalizations must be avoided, and we must ascend gradually from the particular to the gen- eral.
(3) The simple " form " of the phenomenon must be discovered. Of the four causes of Aristotle, Bacon em- phasizes the " formal." By " form " Bacon means the nature that is always present when the phenomenon is present, absent when the phenomenon is absent, and in- creases or decreases with the phenomenon. The " form " is the abiding essence of the phenomenon.
The English Natural Science Movement, The natu- ral science movement in England thus received at the start the impression of the sober Anglo-Saxon mind. Through its entire history English philosophy differed from that of the Continent. Here at the outset the Englishman is skeptical, not only of scholastic deduc- tions from dogma, but also of deductions of all kinds. ^ He prefers the slow road of patient empirical discovery. Even pure contemplative knowledge and the deductions of mathematics have little charm for him. To be stire, induction even in the hands of an Englishman demands ^ But see the contradiction in the theory of Hobbes.
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 47
by its nature the establishment of a general principle, but Bacon would have refused to use such a deduction to establish a new truth in the way that Galileo used his mathematical hypotheses. According to Bacon, an hypothesis is true only so far as it has already received the indispensable sanction of experience.
Thomas Hobbes * and his Contemporaries. During a certain period Bacon had under him a secretary by the name of Thomas Hobbes. Here was an obscure man turning to philosophy because of his interest in politics; whose point of attachment to philosophy was the mechanical theory of nature, so universally accepted by the scientists of that time. No contemporary of Hobbes — neither Bacon, Descartes, nor Galileo — had so systematic a philosophy. No other man succeeded better in expressing all that was in his mind. Hobbes was one of a large group of political theorists of the Renaissance. When the mediaeval idea of the universal Christian state, such as was embodied in Augustine's City of God^ was no longer held, many of the Human- ists tried to construct theoretical systems of politieal government that would meet the demands of the time> Macchiavelli, Thomas More, Bodin, Althusius, and Gro- tius ^ belong to this group. Hobbes is best known in modern times as a writer on this aspect of morals
* Read Robertson, Hobbes (Blackwood's Phil. Classics), pp. 204-206; Falckenberg, Hist. Mod. Phil., ^\). 11-12; Encyclopcedia Britannica, article, " Hobbes " ; Leslie Ste- phen, Hobbes ; Watson, Hedonistic Theories, pp. 73-94 ; Turner, Hist. Phil, pp. 443-446 ; Windelband, Hist. Phil, p. 389 ; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 359-360 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 57-69, 80-84.
1 See also the ideal States of Campanella and Bacon, p. 41.
48 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
and politics ; but politics is only a part of his gen- eral mechanical system of the universe. He is the forerunner of modern materialism, and his peculiar theory of society is only an exemplification of this theory.
In passing from Bacon to Hobbes we come to a very different type of man. Bacon had risen to fame by his own genius, in spite of the hostility of his powerful relatives ; Hobbes was a hard-headed man, with a nar- row outlook, but with undoubted talents, which were fostered all his life under the patronage of the Devon- shire family. Bacon was a practical politician ; Hobbes was a doctrinaire and theoretical political writer. Of the voluminous literary remains of Bacon his philosophy forms but a small part ; Hobbes had a general philo- sophical system, with which his classical and theological studies have connection.
In the succeeding chapter we shall review the philo- sophy of the rationalist, Descartes, who was a contem- porai-y of Hobbes. We shall find that Descartes and Hobbes are alike in this: that both employed Galileo's mathematical theory as authoritative. They differed, however, in the way in which they used Galileo's theory. Descartes reduced mathematics to the rational, and con- ceived it to be the instrument of the reason ; Hobbes reduced the rational to the mathematical, and conceived the reason as a form of mechanics. The starting-point of Descartes was the subjective, and he was held at a standstill until the relation of thought and mechanics was solved by him. The point of view of Hobbes was objective, and since all was mechanical, he discussed only incidentally the relation between thought and me- chanical existence. Hobbes conceived the world in the
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 49
terms of only one series, the mechanical. Descartes' main motive was to preserve the rational ; and, conse- quently, the world to him consisted of a double or dual- Istic series of terms. We therefore place Descartes, with Spinoza and Leibnitz, in a group called Rational- ists. Hobbes was a materialist, and his greatness" con- sisted in going the full length of materialism : he went beyond all the scientists of his time by extending the mechanical theory to the mental life.
The Life and Writings of Hobbes (1588-1679). The life of Hobbes falls into five natural periods. In his first and last periods he was the classical scholar. Dur- ing his middle period of about thirteen years he waa the philosopher. Furthermore, at one time he was ab- sorbed in mathematics and at another in controversy. His period as mathematician was begun not until he was forty years old, and was preparatory to his creative philosophical period, which was begun when he was about fifty.
1. Asa Classical Scholar (including his early years) (1588-1628) — the first forty years of his life. At Oxford (1603-1608) ; first journey abroad (1608- 1612) ; beginning of his relations with the Devonshire family and also of his acquaintance with the "new science" ; time of leisurely study (1612-1628) and ac- quaintance with Bacon, Herbert of Cherbury, and Ben Jonson ; translation of Thucydides (1628).
2. As Mathematician (1628-1638). Second jour- ney abroad (1629-1631) for eighteen months as tutor to the son of Sir Gervase Clifton ; reads Euclid while abroad ; third journey abroad (1634-1637), when he meets Galileo ; begins to develop the conception of mo- tion and sensation ; by 1638 he is counted among the
50 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
notable philosophers and he meets the Parisian scien- tists, Mersenne and Gassendi.
3. As Philosopher (1638-1651). Plans his philo- sophy under title of Elements of Philosophy : De Corpore^ De Homine, and De Cive, which is inter- rupted by the English Revolution ; Elements of Law (" little treatise ") written in 1640, read by a few in manuscript, published without his consent in 1650 in two parts: Human Nature and De Corpore Poli- tico ; flees to Paris (1640) and enters again the scien- tific circle at Paris ; criticises Descartes' Meditations ; De Cive published (1642), which is De Corpore Politico enlarged ; acts for a time as tutor to Charles II in Paris; engages upon his general philosophical theory (1642-1645) ; Liberty and Necessity, writ- ten (1646), pubHshed (1654) ; Leviathan published (1651).
4. As Controversialist (1651-1668). Flees back to London (1651); De Corpore, published (1655); Behemoth, written (1668), proscribed and not pub- lished until after his death ; controversies with Bram- hall. Ward, Wallis, and Boyle ; De Homine, published (1658).
6. As Classical Scholar (1668-1679). Translation of Iliad and Odyssey (1675).
In Molesworth's edition (1839-1845), Hobbes' Latin works occupy five volumes, the English eleven. The Elements of Philosophy — the De Corpore, De Homine, and De Cive — were not published in the sequence in which they were planned, but, on account of political exigencies, in the above order.
The Influences upon the Thought of Hobbes. 1. The premature birth of Hobbes had no inconsiderable influ-
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 61
ence upon his life. When his mother was carrying him, she had suffered a great fright, at the announcement of the approach of the Spanish Armada. Was it in consequence of this that Hobbes's life was a series of panics and controversies ? He was extremely conserva- tive in politics. He saw the new changes without sym- pathy with either party, and he had no political ideals — only fear. The time in which he lived reinforced this natural conservatism. When he was translating Thucydides, Buckingham was assassinated and the Petition of Rights was presented. Henry IV of France had been assassinated not many years before, and the Puritan element had become a disturbing factor in England. His study and his alliance with the Devon- shire family confirmed him in his conservative position. All signs of the time pointed toward decentralization of government, toward war and rebellion. In fear he was " the first that fled " to France at the beginning of the troubles of Charles I ; in fear he fled back to London eleven years later, lest the Roman Catholics, whom his Leviathan had offended, should murder him. Hobbes was again in great panic over the London fire and looked upon it as a divine penalty, on account of the impurity of the English court. Hobbes was always in fright lest he might not have peace.
2. The father of Hobbes was one of the unworthy clergymen of the English Established Church in the reign of Elizabeth. He was a dissolute man, and after many escapades he abandoned his family. In conse- quence of this Hobbes always had an antipathy toward the offices of the church and toward theology. Although he claimed to be a communicant, his allegiance was only nominal, as his theory will show.
62 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
3. Hobbes was very much influenced by the new mathematical science. His years at Oxford left little impression upon him, and he was but little interested in the scholasticism which was taught there. Yet his twenty years on the Continent brought him into the midst of the scientific circles of Italy and France. He was well along into maturity when he felt this influence. On his second journey, he read Euclid for the first time. He was then forty-three. On his third journey, he met Galileo and the French scientists, Mersenne and Gassendi, and it was then that he began his reflec- tions concerning motion and sensation. The writings of Kepler, Descartes, and Galileo influenced him mightily. Although he acted as Bacon's secretary after the lat- ter's fall. Bacon's influence upon him was little and has been overestimated. The mental powers of Bacon and his secretary were different, and Bacon knew nothing of the mathematical method. Hobbes shows to some degree the empirical tendency of his nationality, and he believed that knowledge must spring from experi- ence. Further than this, the method that Bacon pur- sued does not appear in him. The mission of Hobbes was to construct a mechaiiical view of the loorld.
Of the three influences upon Hobbes, his inherited timidity is seen in his conservative political theory ; the influence of his father is seen in his theory of religion ; the influence of the " new " mathematical science is seen in his whole philosophy, especially in his psy- chology.
The Fundamental Principle in the Teaching of Hobbes. The assumption from which Hobbes deduced his entire philosoj)hy was the mechanical conception of the physical world, — the characteristic philosophical
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 53
assumption of lils age. Hobbes's contemporaries, both the natural scientists and the philosophers, had, how- ever, on the whole, restricted the conception of mechan- ism to the physical world. Hobbes differed from them all in universalizing the conception. He extended its application from the physical over upon the mental realm, and thereby reduced the mental world to physics. He stated this mechanical principle in two parts : all that exists is body ; all that occurs is motion. Hobbes applies this assumption to the physical world and it gives him materialism ; ^ he applies it to knowledge and it gives him sensationalism ; 2 he applies it to the will and it gives him determinism ; 3 he applies it to morals and politics and it gives him naturalism.'* Body is nature ; body is everything. Body is the first term leading through man up to the State. With Hobbes, as with others of his time, the political field was the whole ground to be penetrated. The funda- mental principle, by which Hobbes thought the whole field was to be explained, is body in motion. The men- tal world became drawn into the physical, and thereby his mechanical conception became the more natural.
There was one realm which Hobbes left untouched by his principle : the realm of the spirit, i. e. God, souls, angels. The science of bodies cannot deal with
^ The theory that the assumption of extended, impenetrable, eternal, and moving bodies explains the universe.
^ The theory that all knowledge originates in sensations ; that all complex mental states (like memory, reason, etc.) are only combina- tions of elementary sensations.
^ The theory that between alternative courses of conduct the choice decided upon is fully accounted for by psychological and other pre- conditions.
* The theory sometimes meaning materialism, sometimes positivism, but sometimes, as liere, meaning that man in all his operations is a product of his environment-
54 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the supernatural, for the supernatural does not consist of bodies in motion. Matter and mind are homogeneous ; matter and spirit are not. The contrast in Hobbes is not between matter and mind, the material and the psychical, but between matter and spirit, the material and the supra- material.
The Method of Hobbes. Hobbes made the method of Galileo his own. He believed that all knowledge is rooted in mathematics. There is one true method of treating all subjects : the_ mathematical calculation of them as motions of bodies. Knowledge consists in using words as the signs of experience and in reckoning with them. Scientific^thought is the combination of signs. It is the rationalizing of our experiences. Science has a truth in itself and stands as a rationally organized world, quite different from the world of experience which it has organized. The world of bodies in causally related motions is such an organized world, the most systematized and most simply constructed world that science can devise. But how does the scientist pro- ceed? He begins with a phenomenon, which is a body in motion, and finds out the causes of the phenome- non, which causes are nothing more nor less than the elements of the phenomenon in question. Then the scientist proceeds from the causes to other phenomenal effects. These new effects are like the original phe- nomenon and its causes, — bodies in motion. Thus the world of the scientist is a world of causes and effects, for " the natural reason of man is busily flying up and down among the creatures, and bringing back a true report of their order, causes, and effects." Thus we find Hobbes to be a nominalist (see vol. i, p. 358) who, nevertheless, used the deductive method — rather
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 55
a strange combination. Like all his English successors, he employed induction and deduction, but the two pro- cesses never became fused.* Moreover for induction he has no method.
The order in which the wiitings of Hobbes appeared seems to have been the sport of outward events, for they were not written according to his original plan. On his return from his third journey to the Continent (1638), Hobbes, then fifty years old, had adopted the mechanical theory and had planned his philosophy. His comprehensive work was to be calleid the Elements of Philosoiihy, and was to be divided\into three parts : De Corpore^ treating physical bodies;. De Homine^ treating man as a psychological individual ; De Civey treating man as the citizen of a State. .Hobbes's philo- sophy was therefore to be a universal philosophy, and he intended to bring his works out in logical order — first, the science of physics, then of human nature, and last of society. However, the growing disturbances in the political world at that time moved him to publish several treatises on politics first, and his physics and psychology more than fifteen years later.
The Kinds of Bodies. There are two kinds of bodies, natural and artificial. Natural bodies are those belong- ing to the physical world. The artificial bodies are the institutions of society, of which the most important is the State. Man belongs to both classes of bodies — he has a physical nature and he is a member of the State. Man is the connecting link between natural and artificial bodies. Philosophy is therefore divided into
* Read Falckenberg, Hist. Mod. Phil, p. 72, for his quotation from Grimm's criticism of the irreconcilable con- tradiction of the empirical and the rational in Hobbes.
56 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
three parts: physics^ wbich treats of purely natural bodies ; psychology, which treats of man in his role as a natural individual ; politics, which treats of man in social congregations with his fellows. Looking at the situation from the other end, political bodies are decom- posable into men, men are in turn decomposable into physical bodies. Political bodies are dependent on the psychical nature of men, and the psychical nature of men is dependent on the nature of physical bodies, i. e. on bodies and their motions. Thus all bodies, natural and artificial, must be explained in terms of motion, if they are explained scientifically. Physical bodies are the first term leading up through man to the last term in the series, which is the State.
Hobbes's Application of the Mathematical Theory to Psychology. Although the prime interest of Hobbes lay in the political life of man, he nevertheless made an original contribution to psychology. He snatched the science of mental phenomena from the hands of the scholastic theologian and made it for the first time an independent science. Psychology had been based upon the assumptions of the theologian ; for these Hobbes substituted the assumptions of the mathematician. Con- sciousness became in his hands not a soul, but the mo- tion of bodies. It is described by him as " the movement of certain parts of the organic body " The states of consciousness, such as sensations, perceptions, etc., are brain movements or the refined movements of atoms in the nervous system. Mepjiory and imagination are " de- caying sensations" ; thought is the sum of seYaral sen- sations ; experience is the totality of sensation^^ound together by the rigid laws of association. Hobbes was the father of what is known as the Associational Psy-
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 57
ecology, or the theory that consciousness is composed of mental atoms under fixed laws gf association.
But although Hobbes took psychology out of the hands of the theologian and made it a mechanical sci- ence, he did not identify it with physics. It is still psy- chology. The mental states are the physical motion of bodies, but th(;>y ai-pi nnt pyternal motions, nor ^re they the copies of the external motions of bodies. Mental states are br?^in mnvf>me,nts ; they are the result of ex- ternal motions. They come about in this way. A mov- ing body in the outer world makes an impression on the sense organ, and this motion is transmitted by the nerves to the heart and brain. A reaction is effected in the brain, and this is a mental state. The brain trans- formations, and not the movement of the external object, is that of which we are conscious. The mental state is an " apparition " of the actual fact in the external world ; it is an effect in a causal series. Our perception of light is, for example, a modification of the cerebral substance, and not of the external body itself. We de- ceive ourselves when we think that the sensations of light, sound, heat are outside us. These qualities of things are modifications of ourselves. There is nothing external to us, except the motions of bodies which are the causes of these modifications. The external world is no doubt real, but we have no knowledge of it — no knowledge of aught save the motions of bodies within ourselves. Tliis is the point of view oj" all subsequent English philosophy : the substance of things is quite different from our knowledge of them. The substance of things is real ; but is not the object of our know- ledge. The object of our knowledge is a modification of ourselves.
58 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
The independence of knowledge with reference to theology on the one side, and to physical reality on the other, is well illustrated in Hobbes's discussion of lan- guage. Speech consists of words, which are only the counters of things. Words are markers by which men may know a thing as " seamen mark a rock." Science consists in their manipulation. Science combines them by addition and subtraction into judgments and syl- logisms, and thereby constructs a body of demonstrated principles. Words are only counters, and he is a fool who mistakes the counter for the coin of reality. Words only represent reality, and the law of their use is mathe- matics. Truth and falsity are terms that are concerned with the correct or incorrect manipulation of these ver- bal counters and not with real things.
Hobbes's Application of the Mathematical Theory to Politics. In the same way that material bodies in motion give rise to mental states, and mental states as bodies in motion give rise to the human consciousnGiSS, so men as individuals are the source of the artificial body, — the State. In every individual man the impulse to self-preservation is innate, and is, in fact, his abso- lute and universal characteristic. Just as the law of the mechanical association of ideas is the fundamental principle of the human mind, so the mechanical law of self-preservation is the principle of man's ethical and political life. All our political institutions are the re- sult of the striving of men for self-preservation. In his natural state — when, as Hobbes conceived, man lived without social organization — man had no other stand- ard for conduct than his own self-interest ; in the arti- ficial political state, which man has constructed, self- interest is still his motive. Egoism is the sole working
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 69
principle of human beings both before and after they live in societies ; but the political state is the most in- genious contrivance which egoism has hit upon for its own profit, flobbes conceived that the original state of man, which under the name of " state of nature " was a common problem in the Renaissance, was a condition in which every man was making war against every other man. (Compare Locke and Rousseau.) But such a condition of things was obviously self-destructive. Consequently man arbitrarily and artificially formed the political State to avoid this self-destructive, inter- necine warfare. Under the circumstances it was the most effective way in which man could gain his per- sonal ends, for the political State was the only possible means to peace. In the " state of nature " the right of every man to everything was the equivalent of the right of every man to nothing. So men made a compact with one another under which each relinquished a portion of his rights in order that each might have a portion of them secure. But what gives security to this compact? The sovereign to which the powers of the many have thus been delegated. What is the sovereign ? It is the soul of the State, the general will, — represented by a single person in a monarchy, by an assembly in a re- public. This sovereign, in whom the contract is vested, is absolute ; for the sovereign was not a party to the original contract, since he did not then exist. The contract was made among the individuals, at that time in a " state of nature." So long as the State preserves its power among the people, the people must render their obedience to the State, — to the sovereign in whom the contract was vested. The might of the political State makes right. Whatever the State commands is right;
60 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
whatever is forbidden is wrong. There was no right and wrong in the " state of nature," only the possible and the impossible. An act is a crime when it breaks the contract, and thus the ground of morality is politi- cal legislation. Even the religion of the people is de- termined by the State. Any political State is better than a revolution. Here was philosophical justification of Charles I. A reversion to war is a reversion to the " state of nature."
When Hobbes was in France as a refugee he wrote the Leviathan, which contained this doctrine of political so- ciety. He presented a vellum-bound copy to Charles II, hoping to gain favor with that prince. However, the Le- viathan, unfortunately for Hobbes's purpose, contained two paragraphs that antagonized the royalists and the Catholics. One was, that when a commonwealth is un- able to protect its citizens in peace, that commonwealth is dissolved and a new sovereign commonwealth is formed. The second was, that while the sovereign state shall de- cide what the religion of its people shall be, no religion is infallible — neither Anglican, Catholic, nor Puritan, The religion that the sovereign makes legal is only a temporary one ; the true religion wiU come not until the Last Judgment. The church is subordinate to the State, like everything else, and it does not matter much what the State religion shall be, provided there be peace. Religion is only a superstition resting on a defective knowledge of nature, and it is of little consequence what particular religion the State makes binding.
It hardly need be said that the Leviathan pleased neither Charles II nor the Catholics. The sequel of its publication was that Hobbes fled back to England from fear of assassination.
THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD 61
The Renaissance in England after Hobbes. The philosophies of Bacon and Hobbes do not exhaust, but merely represent the philosophy of England during the Renaissance. Empiricism i had to wait for Locke in the next period before it became dominant. After Hobbes Scholasticism was narrowly confined to limited circles and appeared under the form of Skepticism or of Pla- tonism, neo-Platonism, or Mysticism. The reaction toward Platonism was centred in a group of ethical scholars, called the Cambridge School. It included Culverwell, Cudworth, Henry More, and Cumberland. This Platonic movement was short-lived. The scientific spirit, represented in the Renaissance by Bacon and Hobbes, dominated the next period, — the Enlighten- ment,— and we shall find it spreading its influence over France and Germany in the form that Locke gave to it.
But the history of the philosophy of the Renaissance is not yet completed. Contemporary with Bacon and Hobbes, there was a movement on the Continent which was more characteristic of the Renaissance, and indeed more important to it than the movement in England. This was the school of Rationalists, to which we now turn.
^ Empiricism and Rationalism have reference to the source of truth. Empiricism is the theory that truth is to be found in immediate sense experience. The opposite theory is Rationalism, which declares that the reason is an independent source of knowledge, distinct from sensation, and having a higher authority.
CHAPTER V
THE RATIONALISM OF THE NATURAL SCIENCE PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE
The Nature of Rationalism. Although the new science grew apace, it was not altogether a safe vocation. Na- tural science involves metaphysical questions at every point. The scientist at this time, therefore, found him- self often in delicate relations with the jealous church guardians. A scientific explanation of the universe might antagonize the church dogma concerning God, creation, and the final outcome of the world. The church doctrine concerning the soul, too, its nature and its im- mortality, its relation to the body, might be antagonized by physiological and psychological discussions. In such dilemmas as these the natural scientist was not success- ful in pretending to isolate himself entirely from the- ology and in assuming an attitude of aloofness to it. Galileo might declare that, whatever the results of his investigations in physics might be, they had nothing to do with the Bible; but he sorrowfully found that the Inquisition thought otherwise. Copernicus found that his astronomical theories came into conflict with church dogma, and he was tormented by his bishop. Kepler spent his later years in a deadly struggle with both Pro- testantism and Catholicism. Bacon and Hobbes lived in a country where their personal safety was fairly secure, nevertheless Bacon disguised his position by using large words and Hobbes was untroubled because he accepted the religion of his sovereign.
THE RATIONALISTS 63
If the position of those was difficult who tried to keep themselves strictly within the limits of science, how much more fraught with personal danger was the posi- tion of those who openly constructed a new metaphysics ? It would mean that a challenge was issued to the old Scholasticism by the same human reason that had al- ready challenged and overthrown the old science. The group of men who did this were the Rationalists. The Rationalists were interested in science, but they were more interested in the metaphysical problems that sci- ence aroused. The human reason had been successful in the reconstruction of physics by the use of mathemat- ics. Why should it not also be able to reconstruct meta- physics and set it, too, upon a mathematical basis ? The leaders of this school were Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz, and the Occasionalists, — Malebranche and Geulincx. The Rationalists advanced a new conception not only of nature, but of God ; new theories not only of the human body, but of the soul. Their task was the dangerous one of bravely invading the hitherto impregnable realms of the spirit.
The task of the Rationalists was rendered the more difficult because, for the first time in the history of Eu- ropean thought, the inner and outer worlds had been completely sundered. For the first time do we meet with a clear-cut and positive dualism. The history of the growth of this dualism had been a long one, and to it the Greek Sophist, the Stoic, and the Christian had each contributed his share. However, Galileo and his fellow scientists in this period of the Renaissance had so recon- structed the old " world of nature " that it had become irreconcilable to the " world of grace." These scientists believed that nature must be made to explain itself;
64 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
its events must be conceived as necessitated ; its pro- cesses as having the inevitableness of a machine. From the revolutions of the planets to the circulation of the blood, the movements of nature can be measured. The law of nature, that is conceived to underlie all this science, is mechanical causation. The researches of the scientists of the Renaissance had yield ed''arrTch world of brute, inevitable, and scientific facts, and these stood in absolute fundamental contrast to the world of spiritual facts which were embodied in the church dogma. Appar- ently the problem of reconciling the " world of nature " and the " world of grace " had been solved by St. Thomas Aquinas in mediaeval times. Now, however, the "world of nature " had been so reconstructed that the question was re-opened. How is the new " world of nature" to be brought into harmonious relation with that old, per- sistent, and settled dogma of thft chjiiolt ? How can the newly conceived mechanism of nature be harmonized with the realm of free conscious spirits, without giving up the conception of God as a rational being, and also without depriving the soul of its power of initiation ? The new science had therefore made it especially diffi- cult on the one hand to reconcile a mechanical universe with an omnipotent God, and on the other to reconcile the mechanical human body with the free soul.
The struggle of the Renaissance with the Middle Ages is therefore concentrated in the development of the doc- trine of this Rationalist School. It is studied here even better than by reading the two periods side by side. In Rationalism the Scholasticism of the Middle Ages and the Science of the Renaissance meet. Rationalism was a new science, but it was a new theology as well. It was a new scholastic philosophy ; for, while the Rationalists
THE RATIONALISTS 65
thought that they were giving the death blow to medi- asval philosophy, they were instead only replacing it with another scholasticism. In their attempt, by means of the mechanical theory, to get an absolute system of knowledge upon which thought can rest, the Rationalists were acting in the spirit of the schoolmen. In fact, no schoolman ever showed more vigor or more dogmatic confidence in his philosophy. To the mathematical eye of the Rationalist there_wa§_aJbsol n tel y n oth ing my steri- ous in t£e"phYsical universe or in the spiritual, realm. AU things in heaven and earth could be made clear. The declaration of the Rationalists was the call of free- dom, but it was as hazardous as it was ambitious ; and the church with its assured revelations always stood opposed to the realization of freedom. So we shall find Descartes spending his whole life trying to trim his sails that he may not offend the Inquisition ; Spinoza saving himself from both the Jews and the Christians by living in obscurity and publishing nothing ; Leibnitz construct- ing philosophy with the avowed purpose of reconciling science and religion.
The Mental Conflict in Descartes. The strife be- tween the spirit of the Middle Ages and that of the Renaissance appears in Descartes more strikingly than in any other thinker of this time. He shows, on the one hand, all the conservatism of a churchman of medi- aeval time in his respect for institutional authority ; on the other hand, his intellectual activity places him among the leading scientists of the Renaissance. In no other thinker does the conflict between the Old and the New appear so unsettling ; in none does the antagonism be- tween the scholastic world of spiritual things and the mechanical world of science appear so irreconcilable.
66 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
He suffered a life-long mental strife, for within himself mediaevalism and science were engaged in an unending dramatic struggle. The philosophy of Descartes was a compromise between his traditions and his scientific genius ; and his philosophy never overcame his con- flicting motives. The admirers of Descartes have called him the father of modern thought, and this is partly true. The father of the modern scientific method was Galileo. Descartes, on the other hand, pointed out the incontestable principle from which modern thought has proceeded ; he won his place in the history of philosophy by attempting to harmonize the old scholasticismjyith the new_science under this _singie. principle.
The Life and Philosophical Writings of Descartes (1596-1650).*
(1) As Child and Student (1596-1613).
At home until he was eight years old (1596-1604). At the Jesuit school at La Fleche until he was seven- teen (1604-1613).
(2) As Traveler (1613-1628). Descartes studies " the book of the world."
At Paris (1613-1617), in retirement and study.
In Holland (1617-1619), nominally attached to the army of Maurice.
First Journey (1619-1621), going through Bavaria, Austria, north to the shores of the Baltic and back to Holland. The greater part of these two years were spent in Bohemia, enrolled in the army of the Emperor. He was on this journey when his mental crisis occurred, —
* Read Robertson, Hohhes (Blackwood Phil. Classics), p. 40 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 117-147 ; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 351-362 ; Calkins, Persistent Problems, pp. 459-463.
THE RATIONALISTS 67
at Neuberg, in Austria, in 1619. It was then that he discovered either analytical geometry or the fundamental principle of his philosophy.
In Paris again, 1623.
Second Journey (1623-1625), to Switzerland and Italy, making a pilgrimage to the shrine of Loretto.
(3) As Writer (1629-1650).
In Holland (1629-1649). For the sake of absolute seclusion from inquisitive visitors, Descartes changed his residence in Holland twenty-four times and lived in thirteen places. All his correspondence passed through Mersenne. During these twenty years he made three journeys to France. Thus this period of absolute retire- ment became his period of literary production, chiefly between the years 1635 and 1644. He wrote his
Ilethod (1635-1637).
Meditations (1629-1641).
Le Monde (1630-1632), published posthumously.
Principles (1641-1644).
Passions (1646-1649).
(4) In Stockhobn, Sweden (1649-1650). The ro- mantic side of the life of Descartes appears in his book on the Passions, which he wrote for the Princess Eliza- beth, and also in his acceptance of the invitation of the Queen of Sweden to reside at her court and become her tutor. He died there from the rigors of the climate after a residence of one year.
The Two Conflicting Influences upon the Thought of Descartes. On the one hand, all the ties of inherit- ance, family influence, and early education allied Des- cartes with the spirit of the Middle Ages. A delicate constitution made him shrink from public controversy and the public eye. He even made a half apology for
68 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
his pursuit of science by saying that he was seeking to reform his own life, and that it was absurd for an in- dividual to attempt to reform a state. His family on • both sides belonged to the landed gentry, and he was therefore bound by caste to the support of institutional authority. He was educated in the Jesuit school of La Fleche, and this most conservative of ecclesiastical in- fluences restrained him from following the logical con- clusions of his own thought. He was therefore both physically timid and intellectually aloof. In 1632 he was about to publish Le Monde^ which was a scientific description of the origin and nature of the universe, and agrees in part with the Copernican theory. It was a treatise which would naturally conflict with the teach- ing of the church. He learned of the trial of Galileo at Rome, and he never dared to publish the book.
The rival spirit speaking in Descartes was the new scientific spirit of the Renaissance. He had a genius for mathematics even when he was at school at La Fleche. On his going to Paris he became the centre of the most notable scientific circle in France — a circle composed of such men as the Abbe Claude Picot, the physician Villebressieux, the optician Ferrier, the mathematician Mersenne, and many other scientists and theologians. But he became dissatisfied and made some long journeys in order to study " the book of the world." His discovery of his method and his philoso- phical principle was the result. In mathematics he was the discoverer j)f analytical geometry and was the_first to represent powers by exponents; in physics he stated the principle~of the refraction oflight,in trigonQgi^etrical. form ; he explained the rainbow ; he w^eighed the air. The same industrious ajjplication of the new scientific
THE RATIONALISTS 69
methods that yielded great results in science, also re- sulted in his development of his philosophy. Love for original discovery made Descartes disdainful of all sci- entific authorities and even contemptuous of his notable contemporaries, Galileo and Harvey. He mentions By name Plato, Aristotle, Epicurus, Campanella, Telesio, and Bruno, but he claimed that he learned nothing from any one except Kepler. He felt himself to be above criticism, and in his self-arrogating dogmatism he is the type of the modern practical individualist. He defined truth as candor to one's self, and both in his practical life and in his theoretical ideal there is an entire absence of utilitarianism.
The Method of Descartes. Both science and scho- lasticism show themselves in the method of Descartes. He attempted to construct a philosophical method en- tirely in the scientific spiritofthe Renaissance, but in the application of it he showed his scholastic training. Surfeited with inadequate and traditional methods he felt the need of some single principle by which all knowledge might be systematized, and he was sure that mathematics would furnish the key. liational spieucg was to Descartes only mathematics. Truth is to be found not in metaphysics, nor in empirical science. Descartes' philosophical aim was to establish a imi- versal mathematics. Descartes was not entirely faitliful to GaliTeo's mathematical principle in his employment of it, and his influence in metaphysics was thereby all the greater ; for in the development of his method he found assistance in the traditional scholastic methods. . Descartes was original in insisting upon finding the existence of an absolute and undeniable principle be- fore any progTcss coiild be made. Such an absolute
70 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
principle can be obtained only by an i7iductive_£i^ing of all ideas. From this all further truths must be nbtm'npfl hj f7pf7yc firkin.. Every true philosophy must therefore be an induction or analysis of ideas, and secondly, a deduction or synthesis. The great contri- bution of Descartes was therefore this : to the induc- tive method of Bacon and the deductive method of Galileo, he added an absolute principle which must he taken as the basis of both induction and deduc- tion.*
Induction — Provisional Doubt — The Ultimate Cer- tainty of Consciousness. The philosophical proclama- tion of Descartes was characteristically French, for he demanded the same return to an uncorrupted nature for the understanding that Rousseau many years later de- manded for the heart. The first step of Descartes was also French in its demand for absolute clearness, which from his youth had shown him to be so passionately fond of mathematics. The way to such clearness is through provisional doubt. Let us purify the understanding by delivering it of the rubbish of traditional opinions, taken upon the say-so of others. By this negative induction of received knowledge, let us see if there is anything positive and_certain. In Descartes's Meditations, in "a dramatic dialogue with himself," he portrays his own intellectual struggle to gain uncontaminated truth.
* Read Descartes, Method, MeditoMons, for the dramatic struggle of his inner life ; Falckenberg, Hist. Modern Phil., pp. 86-88 ; Fischer, Descartes and his School, p. 199 ; Blackwood Classics, Descartes, pp. 144-149 ; Windelband, Hist. Phil, pp. 389 £E. ; Hofeding, Hist. Modern Phil, pp. 219 ff. ; Weber, Hist. Phil, pp. 306 ff., for an opposing opinion about the place of Descartes.
THE RATIONALISTS 71
He makes an induction of all kinds of knowledge and
cliallen^eseach as it ap^ars. Nothing is to be accepted
as true until it has proved itself true. All facts are
subjected to rigid scrutiny. Descartes doubts the testi-
mony of the senses, the existence of the material world,
the existence of God. But this induction is provisional,
even if it is radical. While none of the usually accepted
truths are found by him to be undeniable and absolute,
yet Descartes has an ulterior purpose in challenging
them. Greek skepticism had no further end than doubt,
while at the other extreme Anselm and the orthodox
scholastics had refused to doubt at all. The method of ''
Descartes is contrasted both with that of Anselm and ^
with that of the Skeptics, for he doubts in order that he >
ma^[J^rH^w^ Dijilto ut infAUgam. JDoubt is necessary,
but only as a means to an end ; and that end is know-
ledofe. Descartes proclaimed for the modern individual
. . . . /
the privilege and the duty of rationalizing his own
beliefs.
In such an inductive sifting of traditional beliefs, are there any that can be called knowledge ? Is there one whose reliability cannot be successfully doubted ? Not a single one, except the thinking process itself. I am certain that I am conscious. Even when in my uni- versal doubt I say that nothing is certain, I am at least certain that I doubt. I am, therefore, contradicting my universal skepticism. To ^Igubt is to think ; in doubt- ing, consciousness is asserting its existence. Skepticism is self-contradictory. An induction of our ideas reveals at least this one absolutely certain principle : I, as thinking, am. Cogito ergo sum. My own existence is an intuitive truth that accompanies every state of mind. This is the best known portion of Descartes's philoso-
72 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
phy, and perhaps it is in part to the Latin formula of it that it owes its widespread acceptance. It is criti- cised as trifling, even if it be true ; and as reasoning in a circle. Yet it must be remembered that Descartes does not intend the ergo sum (" therefore I am ") to be a conclusion of a syllogism of which Cogito Q^ thiiik") is the^minor premjse. This formula is not an in- ference, but an intuition, which is revealed by induction as the certain background of all knowledge.
Three things are to be learned from this fundamental principle, said Descartes : (1) The first is that man has gained a criterion of truth. The characteristic of this principle that makes it reliable and certain is its clearness and distinctness. Cleai^^ss (nid-jdisiiiictness of ideas is the proof' of their truth. All true ideas will therefore have the mathematical and intuitive certainty that the idea of the existence of the self has. (2) The second lesson from this fundamental principle is that the existence of the soul is more certain than that of the body. The soul is more important and independent thQ2^_the_b2dy. This is the subjective point of view of modern times. The modern man views the world as the representation or the creation of his thinking soul. (3) The third lesson from this principle concerns the nature of the soul. How long do you exist ? As long as you think. (^Sum cogitans.') True existence is rational thinking, and God alone has it. Feelings and passions are obscure ideas.
Deduction — The Implications of Consciousness. For Descartes reality lies within the Self ; and the next question before him is how to get out of the Self. Knowledge that is confined to the Self and its states is called, technically, solipsism. Such knowledge amounts
THE RATIONALISTS 73
to little ; indeed, it is not knowledge at all. Certainty of self-existence is the minimum amount of knowledg-e — merely the starting jjoint of kuowleilge. Descartes proposes to escape from this solipsism by the use of logic. His method from this point on is ostensibly de- ductive, although he introduces by the side door other idteasthan the idea of Self to make his proof complete. Descartes maintains that any idea will be as true as the consciousness that accompanies it, just as a proposition in geometry partakes~of the truth ot the axioms from which it is derived. Now my consciousness contains many ideas ; some of them seem to be the product of my imagination ; some seem to be adventitious ; some are innate. It is upon the innate ideas that Descartes depends to get hiin out of his soirpsisiii, for they are not created by the Self and they have the qualities of truth — a conscious clearness and distinctness. Among these innate ideas is the idea of God as a perfect being. The Existence of God.* As a deduction from con- sciousness, the idea of God would prove to be a very useful one to Descartes, provided it had reality. For it is evident that consciousness can testify only to the ex istence of itself and its own states. How do I know the reality of anything else ? Am I confined within the circle of my own thinking? Is all that I can say of this or that, "It is real to me"? Are all things only the phantasmagoria of my own brain, testifying only to the existence of myself ? Descartes thought that the idea
* Read Falckenberg, Hist, of Modern Phil, pp. 92-94 ; Blackwood's Classics, Descartes, pp. 151-153 ; Weber, Hist, of Phil., p. 310; Calkins, Persistent Problems in Philoso- phy, pp. 25-30 ; Turner, Hist, of Phil., pp. 451 f., which presents Descartes' arguments as reduced to two.
74 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of God relieved him of this solipsism. If he could de- monstrate God's existence, he would then be able to demonstrate the existence of the material universe. The problem was so highly important to Descartes that he threw it into several different arguments. The compli- cations with which these arguments are filled must be passed over here, and the arguments stated in their simplest forms.
(a) Two are ontological arguments, that is, argu- ments from the character of the conception of God's nature.
(1) -4 Simple Deduction. If I have in my conscious- ness any idea as clear and distinct as my idea of Myself, it must have existence like Myself. My idea ofJGuDd has just that clearness and distinctness ; and thergface God exists.
(2) The Geometrical Argument^ so called by Des- cartes. Some ideas have properties so immutable that, when we think the ideas, we necessarily think their properties. Such is the idea of a triangle ; when I think of a triangle, I must think of it as having its three angles equal to two right angles. Such is also my idea of God ; I must think of him as perfect and existing. He would not be God, i. e. a perfect Being, if He did not exist.
The reader will recognize this as a re-statement of the argument by St. Anselin^ As such it raised a tempest of controversy in Descartes' time, and was attacked from all sides.
(6) Two are causal arguments, that is, based on the assumption of the equality of cause and effect. Only one of these arguments will be cited here. This is known as
The Cartesian Argument. I have an idea of a per-
THE RATIONALISTS 75
feet Being. This idea must have an adequate cause. Therefore God must exist, for only He, and no im- perfect being, can be the adequate cause of my idea of perfection.
The ontological arguments given by Descartes are evi- dently deductions from the certainty of self-conscious- ness. The question which we immediately raise con- cerning them is. Are they true ? As to the causal argu- ments, Descartes is breaking away from his original assumption, viz., that self-consciousness is the only cer- tainty, and is introducing another assumption, viz., the certainty of the law of cause. The question, then, that the thoughtful student asks, is. Does Descartes really escape from his solipsism?
The Reality of Matter. It will be seen that Des- cartes is trying to deduce from the certainty of the idea of self-consciousness the certainty of other ideas, as propositions are deduced in geometry from axioms. The existence of God is an implication of human con- sciousness. JnJow Descartes points out that the exist- ence of matter is implied in the existence of God. Descartes is interested in material science, and it is important for hjyn ^o prnvp f.bp rpality of matter. Here again his scholastic training comes into play. Since God has all the attributes of a perfect being, He must be veracious. If there were no God, but only a deceiv- ing Devil, the external world might b^ ""^y a fiction, created to deceive us. But God exists, and we can trust that He would not continually deceive men about the existence of nature. An atheist could have no science, but to Descartes,
" God 's in His heaven — All 's right with the world."
76 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Of course, man is constantly in error about the char- acter of physical things, but these errors arise from his misinterpretation of them. Nature in some form lies be- fore man^r else God in His truthfulness does nQt exist. The essence of matter is extension (see below), and whatever my interpretation of it, something extended lies before me to be interpreted.
This is the skeleton upon which Descartes constructs his theory. Even this cursory examination of it shows the obvious attempt to explain " the world of grace " by the method of mathematics, and it is quite consistent with the spirit of the Renaissance. The existence of God and the existence of matter are deduced in turn from the axiom of all thought, the Self ; while matter is further described as the extended or the measurable. Thus Descartes has tried to construct a bridge between the scholastic concepts and the science of the Renaissance. The three realities, the Self, God, and matter, which Descartes often speaks of as intuitively certain, have obviously a differing cogency. The reality of conscious- ness is the ground^ f rom which the other two_are de- rived. In asserting its primacy, he is voicing the spirit of the Renaissance even more clearly than did Galileo and Bacon. For Descartes in this has gone back-of the objective facts to a single subjec^ivf. prinpJplpi ; whereas the deductive principles of Galileo were objective. In this respect Descartes is the founder of the subjective method of modern thought, and in identifying the Self as the reason he became the founder of rationalism. In any case he established a background for epistemology, or the theory of knowledge. But in his derivation of the other two realities — God and matter — he shows how persistent was the scholastic current in his thought.
THE RATIONALISTS 77
Although he declared them to be intuitively known, they evidently are not so in the same sense that self- consciousness is ; and he felt obliged to support them by traditional scholastic arguments^ ~-^
God and the World. Leaving these fundamental ' principles of Descartes, we now come to a consideration of a few of the details of his philosophy. Descartes' world is a dualism in which conscious being stands in contrast with space objects^. God is related to the world of mind on the one hand and to the world_of matter on the other. The order in which Descartes came upon the three substances — the Self, God, and matter — is, however, not the order of their reality. In reality GnH IS thft 'primary RiihRtanca^ for He depends only upon Himself. Matter and the Self are relative or cre- ated substances, for they depend upon God. J^a,tter and mmd have different modes of appearing: the modes of matter are form, size, position, and motion. The modes of mind are ideas, judgments, and will. Thus mind is so essentially different from matter, as can be seen in their respective modes, that God stands in a different relation to each.
The Relation of God to Matter. Descartes here in- vestigates the realm in which he has the deepest inter- est ; but he makes a concession at the very beginning. He divests things of their qualities and finds the essence of matter to be extension. Qualities are not resident in things, but are the result of our sensations. Sense- perception is knowledge of qualities, and therefore obscure knowledge ; while clear or intellectual know- ledge is of quantities. But there is one quality common to matter, — extension. Space, extension, and matter are the same. There is no space that is empty, no
78 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
matter that is not extended. An extended or material body has, however, in itself no principle of motion. It cannot move itself. It must be moved by an external cause, and the whole universe must be a mechanism whose movements have their first cause in God. Matter in its modes of motion and rest has God as its first cause or unmoved mover ; and under matter is included every- thing extended, — inanimate objects, the lower animals, and the bodies of men. To this world of matter God stands in the relation of an inventor to his machine.
The Relation of God to Minds. The essential nature ofminds is thought. Mind is therefore different from matter because it is unextended andjree. The two rela- tive substances have nothing in common except that they are related to God. The relation of God to minds is, however, very different from His relation to matter. God is not the unmoved mover of minds, but He is the perfect and infinite mind to which our finite minds turn as their ideal. God thinks and wills perfectly what we think and will imperfectly. He is not the mechanical but the teleological cause of minds, their ens perfectis- simuvi, the goal of all mental aspiration.
The Relation of Mind and Body. In proportion as Descartes clearly defined mind and body, and referred each back to its own principle, the impossibility of con- necting the two became apparent. Descartes intended that his theory should, above everything else, clear phi- losophy of all obscurities. So he divided the world into two relative substances, — mind and matter, — each operating in its own realm, each exclusive of the other. The intention of Descartes is to be a consistent dualist. But there was one point where, with one eye on the church, he had to qualify for ethical considerations his
THE RATIONALISTS 79
scientific principle of matter. That is the point where the human body acts upon the soul and the soul acts upon the body.
There was little trouble for Descartes in conceiving the movements of inanimate bodies, plants, and aD the lower animals as purely mechanical and automatic, with their first cause in God. From his own investigations he felt obliged to regard many of the human functions as automatic also. But his ethical and theological in- terests compelled him to think of man as exalted above the rest of creation. Theology has always been in a sense aristocratic, and has drawn a line between man and other things. Man alone has a soul in his body. The soul of man is immortal and free, and must therefore have control over the body ; nevertheless the soul of man must be conscious of the impressions that come through the body. Here the science of the Renaissance and the scholasticism of the Middle Ages refuse to be reconciled in the philosophy of Descartes. When it became a ques- tion between Descartes' scientific theory of matter oper- ating itself mechanically and the church doctrine of a spiritual will operating the matter of the human body, the scientific theory had to yield. How does Descartes yield gracefully to the theological requirements and bring; tosrether the two unlike worlds of matter and mind in the human personality ?
Descartes' explanation of the relation of human mind and body reminds us of the mythical explanations of Paracelsus. The soul is united to all parts of the body, but its point of contact with the body is the pineal gland, and this contact is made possible through the ani- mal spirits (^spiritus anlmales) or the fire atoms in the blood, a revived Greek conception. The pineal gland
80 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
is a ganglion in the centre of the brain, which biolo- gists tell us is a defunct eye, but which Descartes con- ceived to be the seat of the soul. Descartes maintained that the animal spirits, having been distilled by the heart, ascend by mechanical laws from the heart to the brain, and then descend to the nerves and muscles. When they pass through the pineal gland, they come in contact with the soul. The soul exercises influence on the body by slightly moving the gland and diverting the animal spirits. In this way the emotions and sensations are to be explained. The movement of the pineal gland by the animal spirits causes sensations in the soul ; the movement of the gland by the soul changes the move- ment of the animal spirits, and is an exhibition of free action. But this does not add to or subtract from the lenergy. It merely changes the direction of energy.
The Influence of Descartes. Although the philosophy of Descartes was forbidden in the University of Oxford, was proscribed by the Calvinists in Holland, and his works were placed upon the Index by the Catholics, it created a profound impression on the theology, science, and literature of the seventeenth century. It spread over Europe in a somewhat similar way to the Darwinian evolution theory in modern times. Its success was im- mense, many standard men rallied to its support, and everything before Descartes was considered to be anti- quated. Among philosophers his doctrine had an inter- nal development in a natural way along the lines of the problems which he had left unsolved. A philosophical development, the source of which can be traced directly back to Descartes, went on until Kant published his Critique in 1781. This has later been called the School of KatioualisQi iu Germany, France, and Holland. The
THE RATIONALISTS 81
most important members of this school — the Occasion- alists, Spinoza, Leibnitz, and Wolff — we shall consider in their place. Descartes had an important immediate following in the group, who go by the name of Occasion- alists ; but his most important successor, who can hardly be called his disciple, was Spinoza.
Descartes' method had a peculiar fate. His followers misunderstood it, exactly reversed it, and obtained very fruitful results. Descartes himself had hoped to see in- duction employed in most metaphysical problems. He regarded deduction as of use only in proceeding from one self-evident fact to another. But the following Ra- tionalists used the deductive method entirely and tried to systematize ethics after the manner of Euclid. They deduced their systems from some assumed principle. This tendency was first seen in the Port Royal logic, and was completed by Spinoza.
The Relation of the Occasionalists and Spinoza to Descartes. JThe development of the doctrines of the Occasionalists and Spinoza from Descartes was an at- tempt to make clear the conception of siihstance. Since substance was the most important scholastic category, it is easy to see why Spinoza's teaching became thoroughly scholastic. Descartes had used the term " substance " in a very loose way to apply to God as infinite, and to minds and bodies as finite. He speaks of God as the only substance, and yet of consciousness and bodies as created substances. Such ambiguity must be overcome, if a philosophy which prided itself on making everything " clear and distinct " was to stand. Descartes had fallen short of justifying his attempt to put metaphysics com- pletely upon a mathematical basis, although this had been his original problem. The obscurity of the spiritual
82 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
world still remained, because Descartes had left the con- cept of the spiritual substance undefined. The world of the spirit was still an unknown country. The spirit- ual substance had not been made clear and distinct, and there still remained the ontological problem of the relation between mind and matter, and the psychological problem of the relation between the individual soul and its body.
Descartes had, however, defined clearly the concept of the substance of matter — the substance with which the natural scientist works. He had accomplished this, to be sure, by destroying the essential distinctions be- tween material things. A "thing" is essentially a sub- stance in which many qualities inhere, e. g. a piece of sugdTr having whiteness, sweetness, etc. Material sub- stances were alike in that all were essentially extension. All else besides extension in any particular finite thing was a modification of extension. A lump of sugar was essentially the same as a lump of salt in that both were extension ; the saltness, sweetness, etc., were secondary. Now this makes the nature of bodies very clear ; and Descartes proposed to reduce the substance of the states of mind to the same clearness, butjbe did not_4o, it. He was interested in natural science and he developed his rationalism only with reference to matter. Bodies are parts of space or corpuscles, which are mathematically infinitely divisible, but perceptually are not further divis- ible. As far as he went, Descartes was clear enough.
The Occasionalists and Spinoza represent the second stage in the development of Rationalism. Both tried by making clear the meaning of spiritual substance to define the relationship of God to the material world. Both tried to state the problem in other words, to over-
THE RATIONALISTS 83
come the dualism between mind and matter, and to re- construct the old " world of grace " so that it would be consistent with the new world of science. The Occa- sionalists, whose chief exponents were Malebranche and Geulincx, we shall dismiss with only a few words, while considerable attention must be given to the teaching of Spinoza. Malebranche tried to do for the mental world what Descartes had done for the world of matter. Since no knowledge is possible except in God, he claimed that the modes of finite minds — our ideas, judgments, imaginations — are alike in essence in being modifica- tions of the universal reason of God. God is so far the " place of minds " as space is the place of bodies. All our ideas participate in God's reason, and all our voli- tions are the modifications of the will of the Divine, just as bodies are modifications of extension. / What then is the relation, asked Geulincx, between bodily movement and the states of consciousness ? Why does my arm move when I wish to move it ? By the media- tory power of God. The thought in my mind is the " occasional cause " of the movement of my arm, while God is the true cause of the movement. The move- ment of the human body is therefore, like the movement of all matter, a continuous miracle caused by an ever watchful Deity, who keeps body and mind in harmony. Spinoza completed his pantheism before Malebranche had prepared the way. T'^'^or^iib^p^l « pmnplpiPi doc- trine _o^__substance, conceiving material bodies to be essentially the same in bem^ modes of extension, and mental phenomena to be essentially alike in being modes of thought. But more important was his further teach- ing that on that account the two series have no rela- tion to each other. That is to say, Spinoza reduced the
84 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
whole difficulty to clearness and distinctness by reduc- ing the three substances of Descartes to^ne. For this reason Spinoza was a more complete Rationalist than Descartes ; and he was assisted in this construction of a mathematical Rationalism by two facts : hejheldjiim- self strictly to the deductive method, ^nd he was free from social and ecclesiastical ties. Spinoza is the truest utterance of his time in its effort to make all things clear ; and this is not contradicted by the fact that he had little influence in shaping contemporary thought.
The Historical Place of Spinoza.* Spinoza did not get full standing nor was he widely read, until Lessing, one hundred years later, resurrected his teaching and Goethe adopted it. He produced what the Renaissance was striving for, but what the Renaissance could not yet grasp, — the complete logical formulation of its deepest thought. Spinoza produced the only great con- ception of the world during this period, and it excited the hostility of contemporary Catholics, Protestants, and free-thinkers alike. The product of his thinking was a new systematic scholasticism, which, if the time had been ready for it, would have entirely superseded the mediaeval. He succeeded in placing_metgj)hysics upon a^ scientific and mathematicaL basis, for his phi- losophy was not only logical in its content but_mathe- matical in its form, Spinoza's philosophy is the Re- naissance expression of mediaeval scholasticism, — the expression of that rationalism that underlies both the
* Read Royce, Spirit of Modern Phil., chap, iii ; Bald- win, Fragments in Philosophy, pp. 24-42 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 148-166 ; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 362-380.
15ARUC1I DK SriNOZA
(Pollock (Spinoza, His Lrfe and Pliilosoji/ij/, p. xxvi) says that only three of the portraits of Spinoza may reasonably be considered authentic. One is a minia- ture of the pliilosopher in the Summer Palai'e at the Ilatjue ; the second is a paint- ing in the Town Museum at the Ilajjue; the third is tlie one given here, which is an entjravinn found in copies of the original edition of Spinoza's Posthumous Works (1677). Tliis portrait seems to be somewhat idealized, but of the three it iB the most artistic and lifelike.)
THE RATIONALISTS 85
thought of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. It is as if Thomas Aquinas had been transported into the Renaissance, and finding that science would not sup- port and explain dogma, had conformed dogma sys- tematically to the new science. Mathematically science was the new dognLa. Spinoza is the last word of medi- aevalism, although his language is the science of the Renaissance. The utterance of Spinoza sounds strange because, while his thought is mediaeval, his expression and form are scientific.
Spinozism had a revival in the eighteenth cen- tury.* It formed the background of the philosophy of Herder and that of the author of the Wolffenhuttel Fragments. The connection of Lessing and Spinoza was a matter of active controversy at that time. Spi- noza was the great influence upon Goethe. In the nine- teenth century in England Coleridge reproduced from Spinoza's Ethics the doctrine of an all-pervading love and reason.
Spinoza strove before everything else for a unitary system, and yet it is interesting to see how much he has been honored from different quarters. Artists, religious devotees, poets, idealists, materialists, and scientists have found in him their truest expression. This is not only because each has found something different, but because his philosophy had actually a many-sided char- acter. His teaching had the advantage of being thor- oughly radical. Bad systems of philosophy are impos- sible, because they are contradictory. While no one knows that any system corresponds to fact, still it is possible that a radical system may have such correspond-
* See page 279. Read Goethe, Geheimnisse, in this con- nection.
86 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
ence. Spinoza's system is comprehensive, and therefore has struck sympathetic chords in differing thinkers.
The Influences upon Spinoza, i. His Jewish Train- ing. Spinoza was born a Jew and remained a member of the Synagogue until he was excommunicated at the age of twenty-four. Although he was the original gen- ius who transcends his limitations, his young mind was moulded after the Jewish type. He received the strictly religious training of the Jewish boy in the Jewish academy at Amsterdam, where he learned a trade in connection with his studies. He studied the Talmud, mediaeval Jewish philosophy, especially the writings of Maimonides (twelfth century), and the Cabalistic litera- ture. In a Jewish curriculum the classical languages had no place ; and mathematics, except arithmetic, was generally overlooked. His early instruction emphasized above ever3^hing else the unity and the supremely transcendent, theistic character of God.
However, his separation from the Synagogue at this early age could not but modify his theology. It made him a free Jew. He was no longer under the restraints of Jewish traditions. While he never abandoned his belief in God as a unity, he gave up his belief in the transcendent theistic God of the Hebrew prophets ; and he differed from the contemporary Jewish Cabalistic teaching of emanations from God. He seems to have so modified the orthodox Hebrew conception of God that it rather resembles that of the mediaeval mystic Christian. Perhaps the influence of Bruno upon his thought may account for its final shape.
2. His Impulse from the New Science — Descartes* Influence. The " free thinking " for which Spinoza was excommunicated by the .Synagogue was obtained first
THE RATIONALISTS 87
from his instruction in the school of Van der Ende, a physician of daring naturalistic tendencies. This was when he was eighteen. Spinoza had already learned Italian and French ; Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and Hebrew were his native tongues ; Van der Ende taught Mm German and Latin, and introduced him to the sci- ence of the time. It was then that he read Descartes, whose philosophy he made the basis of his own. Spinoza was not an inventive genius like Descartes and Leib- nitz, but he was more rigidly systematic than either. He was by nature a thinker who was obliged to carry his thought through to its logical conclusions. He had already, at this early age of eighteen, begun to make independent theological excursions. Consequently the mathematical methods of Descartes furnished him a method, and Van der Ende gave him the encourage- ment for carrying out his independent thinking unre- lentingly to its logical end. To state his modified Jewish conception of God in mathematical terms became his task, and his success in thus stating it, with Descartes as a starting point, made him the most complete repre- sentative of Rationalism.
3. His Acquaintance with the Collegiants. After his expulsion from his kindred, he lived for seven years with a sect of Baptist Quakers called Collegiants. This was a dissenting religious body without priests or set forms of worship. The members were simple, pious people, who regarded moral living as superior to creed ; and Spinoza's life in their midst must have determined to some degree the lines of his thought. To a man of Spinoza's simplicity of mind and kindly disposition, the Collegiants would prove to be not only congenial com- panions in his hours of distress, but they would confirm
88 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
his own love for the ethical as an ideal. Spinoza says that the motive of his philosophy is a practical one ; that he is seeking that which would " enable me to en- joy continuous and supreme and unending happiness." He is seeking a theory of life that would aid in allaying the unrest of his time ; and he is the only philosopher who has called his metaphysics Ethics. The humane- ness of his doctrine, the practical purpose of his writ- ings, and the ethical ideal that informed his whole life had at least their reinforcement, and perhaps their ori- gin, in his contact with the CoUegiants during this criti- cal period. His life with this sect influenced him in his refusal to accept the chair of philosophy at the Uni- versity of Heidelberg, and to remain content to be the obscure grinder of optical lenses.
The Life and Philosophical Writings of Spinoza * (1632-1677). The history of philosoiDliy presents in the person of Spinoza a lovable, interesting, and striking character, as well as the author of one of the profoundest of philosophical systems. His life was one of social iso- lation and retirement rather than of solitude. The Jews to whom he belonged lived a kind of double exile — they were exiled from their home in Spain, and they lived by themselves apart from the people of Amsterdam. When Spinoza was excommunicated by his brethren, he suf- fered, therefore, a threefold exile. Moreover, Spinoza was not only excommunicated by his people, but he was hated by the contemporary Catholics, Protestants, and the prevailing Cartesian school. Even the free-thinker, Hiune, spoke of him as " the infamous Spinoza," and another philosoj)her described his philosophy as " the hideous hypothesis of Spinoza." But his isolation was * Bead Auerbacb, Spinoza, an historical romance.
THE RATIONALISTS 89
far from solitude, and he had many eminent and faith- ful friends and a notable correspondence. Of his short life of forty-five years, he spent twenty-four, or more than half, as a member of the Jewish synagogue. Dur- ing the next seven years he found refuge among the Collegiants. In the last fourteen years of his life he became widely known, mainly through the Theological- Political Tract, published in 1670, the only one of his writings which he himself published. This brought him the call to the University of Heidelberg, which he de- clined. His life may be conveniently divided into three periods, as follows : —
1. In Israel (1632-1656). Spinoza was educated at the Jewish academy at Amsterdam, where he studied theology and learned a trade, according to the Jewish custom. This trade was the grinding of optical lenses ; that is, he became an optician, and this required some knowledge of mathematics and physics. During these years he got instruction from Van der Ende in science and Latin. He also read Descartes and learned many languages. He wrote a compendium of a Hebrew Gram- mar, of which the date is doubtful. In 1656 he was ex- communicated by the synagogue. The charges brought against him were that : (1) he denied that the Old Testament taught the doctrine of immortality ; (2) he affirmed that angels may be only phantoms or ideas in men's minds ; (3) he affirmed that God may have a body.
2. In Retirement (1656-1663). Spinoza spent this time with the CoUegiants, and this was his most fruitful intellectual period. He brought his ontology, ethics, politics, and physics into a unified system ; and he for- mulated his theory of determinism and his mathematical
90 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
method. In 1658-1661 he was writing his so-called Short Treatise, " concerning God, man and his well-being." This was the first draft of his Ethics. In 1656-1662 he was writing his Imiirovernent of the Understanding. In 1662-1663 he wrote a summary of the principles of Descartes.
3. In the Public Eye (1663-1677). During this period Spinoza lived at or near the Hague, where he had many visitors and a large correspondence.* He was an intimate friend of the brothers DeWitte, who made so large a part of the political history of the country. In 1662-1665 he was writing his Ethics, his monu- mental work. In 1663-1670 he wrote and published the Theological-Political Treatise, the only work pub- lished during his life. Although received with horror, it was widely read. It aimed to show that the Bible is history. In 1673 he declined the call to the University of Heidelberg. Just before his death, in 1677, he wrote the fragment of the Political Treatise.
The Method of Spinoza. The method which Spinoza employed in writing his Ethics must not be regarded by the reader as a fantastic dress that he capriciously chose. It had for Spinoza a real and not merely an external significance. On taking up the book, one finds philoso- phy treated_exactly as Euclid t.reatpfl his gpnmptry. Be- ginning with a number of definitions and axioms, there are deduced, step by step, propositions with appended scholia and corollaries. To Spinoza this was not press- ing philosophy into an artificial and rigid form, but was only the natural mode of philosophical expression, j^ov, in the first place, if the new method of science had proved
* Read Bohn's Libraries, Spinoza, vol. ii, -pp. 275 S., for Spinoza's interesting correspondence with notable men.
THE RATIONALISTS 91
itself successful in treating physical phenomena, why should not the same method have the same success with problems of the, world of the spirit — and in this way bring the two worlds into harmony ? By deduction one could then arrive at absoluta-Cartaintv-ajid. unassailable proof of the solutions of metaphysical problems that had long vexed the Middle Ages. With the perfect geomet- rical method all problems in heaven and earth could be solved. In the second place, the religious conviction of Spinoza that all things come from God required the deductive method to explain them. The order in which we should study phenomena should correspond to the real order in which they stand to God. God is the groupd or reason of thing^s, and all are derived from Him as con- sequents. The deduction of the relation of finite things to God will correspond to the real relation in which God stands to them.
The Fundamental Principle in Spinoza's Philosophy. The philosophy of Spinoza seems to Joe jCartesian in every respect except one; and that one difference was like the leaven in the lump — it transformed his phi- losophy into a radically different one from that of Des- cartes. Spinoza's point of departure was the philosophy of Descartes, all his presuppositions are the fundamen- tal principles of Descartes, and the structure of his system seems to be that of Descartes. He has the same respect for the power of the reason to know all truth, the same faith in the omnipotence of the mathemati- cal method, the same general conception of substance, the same idea of the qualitative dijBference between the worlds of thought and extension, the same belief in the mechanical structure of the world of nature. He made these his own and accentuated them. But he
92 .HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
added to these a new and transforming principle : he conceived that the substance, God, is not merely one object of knowledge, but He is the only object of know- ledge He is the only substance, and finite things are only modifications of Him. Finite things are alike at oottom, and to know them truly is to know God.
This new principle transforms all the Cartesian ele- ments in Spinoza's teaching. It changes the Cartesian theism^iotcLajpantheism ; it supplants Descartes' theo- logical orthodoxy with a naturalism and Descartes' doctrine of freedom with a determinism ; and it turns the cultured aloofness of Descartes into a benevolent mysticism. This new principle becomes " the head of the corner." The oneness and universality of God is the single proposition from which Spinoza deduced his wholejjhilosqpliy. God is the ultimate ground whose existence must be real, because it is conceived. The intrinsic scholasticism of the philosophy of Spinoza appears in his definition of substance, for it is only a condensed statement of St. Anselm's argument for the existence of God. Spinoza says, " T^y_si^sta.nce I meanjthat which is in itself and conceived through it- self alone." There are, therefore, two kinds of things : the thing that has existence in itself and the things that have existence in gpmething else. God stands alone in the first class_;_all_xither things make up thesecond -islass. Spinoza's world is divided into two parts : God and the modes of God. God is self-explana- tory and self-existent, while everything else is ex- plained through Him. The only object of knowledge and the single presupposition of existence is God. In a phrase that has become classic, Novalis described Spinoza as a " God-iutoxicated mau."
THE RATIONALISTS 93
Three Central Problems in Spinoza's Teaching. We have already noted that Spinoza was the chief expo- nent of " clearness and distinctness " in this epoch when all mysteries were to be revealed. He sought to articu- late a metaphysics that would spread out the plan of the world like a demonstration in geometry. His defi- nition of substance is perfectly intelligible ; he accepted the mathematical analysis of the material world into a world of extension, and that of the world of con scions states into one of thought — all this for the sake of simplification and clearness. How simple such a phi- losophy at the first blush appears — the world is God and his modifications. As a matter of fact it is one of the many examples of the irony of history that the philosophy of Spinoza is one of the most difficult to interpret. Its difficulties do not arise from its having a novel point of view, for on the contrary it is one that appeals strongly to the popular imagination. Its diffi- culties arise from its very simplicity, for, after all, hu- man life is so rich and varied that a simple formula will hardly express it. From beginning to end Spino- za's thought has a vagueness for which the beginner in vain strives to find the cause. The cause lies in the seemingly simple principle that^God is all that really exists^ and yet thp world consists of God and other things^
From Spinoza's effort to simplify matters emerged three central problems : (1) The problem of the all- inclusiveness of God — the problem of pantheism ; (2) The problem of the unity of God — the problem of mysticism ; (3) The problem of the salvation of man — an ethical problem. We shall now consider these prob- lems in order.
94 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
The Pantheism of Spinoza — The All-Inclusiveness of God. That Spinoza's philosophy is a pantheism ap- pears at the outset in his conception of substance ; for the substance is ail that really is. Descartes had con- ceived of three substances, — God as the absolute sub- stance, and nxjiid and matter as the two relative sub- stances. But to Spinoza there can be only one substance ; for if there were two or more, no one would be sub- stance, since each would be conceived through the others. If we think at all, we must think of substance as all-inclusive. One might suppose that this preliminary statement would be all that Spinoza could say about life : all that really is, is substance ; other things do not exist. But that would be a misinterpretation of Spinoza. He does not mean that finite things are mere nothings. Theyjexist as unrealities ; they exist as negations of the substance. If you prick into the finite world, it does not collapse, like a balloon. It still exists as an unreality.
No person ever had the idea of infinity so profoundly as did Spinoza. His idea of infinity is not merely that of the infinity of time and space, which indeed affords a tremendous variety of possible constructions, since space and time are each infinite. To Spinoza the in- finity of the substance is much more than these possible combinations of time and space, for corresponding to the time and space series is a series of mental states. Every event has a reason. Every one of the infyiity of event§__inthe world of extension is paralleled by som^ state of thought. But this is by no means the whole story about Spinoza's conception of infinity. Be- sides the infinite world of time and space and the in- finite world of corresponding thought, the substance to
THE RATIONALISTS 95
Spinoza possesses an infinity of other attributes, each of which is infinite. Spinoza piles up infinities upon in- finities, and thus <^.nnppTypg tliP gnhatqiiPf^ ^a qn infinity'' in ajQ_overwhelming sense. Ouly__two of the infinite modes aj)peagJajmr..JUmited- huim discernmenj; : the infinity of the mode of extension, and the infinity of the mode of thought.
Spinoza begins at once to tell us about the forms in which the all-inclusive God appears to us. First, the substance has two attributes, thought and extension. An attribute is " that which the intellect perceives as constituting the essence of the substance." Each attri- bute in its turn manifests itself in modes : thought appears in the modes of intellect and will, extension in the modes of rest and motion.
Substance = God.
■\
Attributes= Thought Extension.
I \ I \
Modes = Intellect Will Motion Rest. This bare skeleton of our rich and varied world ap- pears very much the same as that which one might find beneath Descartes' philosophy. However, Spinoza's con- ception of substance transforms it into a framework of a very different kind of philosophy. Since God is the inclusive reality of it all, we have here a panthe- ism instead of a dualism. The antithesis which in Des- cartes' philosophy was between extension and thought, now in Spinoza's teaching is between God and other things.
What is the place of the attributes and modes in the all-embracing and real substance ? As to the attributes, Spinoza maintained that we, as finite beings, do not
96 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
know God in His character as substance, but that He always appears to us through His attributes of thought and extension. There are only these two attributes that the human mind can know, although God as an infinite being must possess an infinite number of such attri- butes. In our human world all things are either thought- tmngs or extension-things. Each of these two attributes is infinite after its kind. Each fully expresses an aspect of God without depreciating the value of the other. Each is fully adequate, just as a table may be both white and hard without either quality infringing upon the other. The attributes are the substance made more concrete. The modes are in turn modifications of the attributes and more concrete expressions of them and of the substance. Each mode is infinite after its kind. Since God exists only in reality, He would not suppos- ably see from His point of view the world laid out in attributes and modes ; for these are only human ways of interpreting Him. While the critics agree that the modes are human interpretations of the attributes and therefore unreal, they disagree about the relation of the attributes to God. Some maintain that the attri- butes are merely human ways of seeing the substance, analogously to the modes — as if we saw God now as thought and now as extension ; others maintain that God is nothing other than the sum of the attributes ; of extension, thought, and the unknown, infinite, other attributes. The difficulty lays bare the nerve of the problem of pantheism, and probably Spinoza was not clear in his own mind about the relation of the attri- butes to the substance.
Spinoza speaks more definitely upon this same prob- lem of the relation of the modes to God. Is God the
THE RATIONALISTS 97
sum-total of all existent things, or is He the principle behind them? Spinoza says that God is both. God^ is the cause of the world, not cause in the way that the term is commonly used nor in the sense that Descartes usedj-t. God is not to existent things the first cause or the unmoved mover of matter, or the teleological cause of thought, as in Descartes. He is cause in the sense that a triangle is the caAise_of its own ^hree^sides. He is the rational ground (ratio essendi) or the logical reason for the being of things. In this sense God may be resrarded as the cause both in the sense that He is the sum-total of existent things or modes (natura natiir ratd)^ and in the sense that He is the immanent and energizing principle of existent things (natura natu- rans). These conceptions as well as their phrases Spi- noza probably got from Bruno.
The world is, therefore, related to God in that it fol- lows directly from the nature of God ; God is related to the world in that He is the logical ground of the world. Is God the creator of the world ? No, He is the world. Is God a person ? Is He a self-conscious being like ourselves, — an individual ? No. The thought- aspect of God includes our thought, but it is the very different infinite thought ; the extension-aspect of God includes our body, but it is the very different infinite body. God has soul and body and an infinite number of other aspects. God is — an unchanging, self-depend- ent being, whose modifications are necessarily deter- mined in their relation to Him and to one another. Spinoza conceived the character of God exactly from the nature of geometry. Just as all geometrical con- clusions follow from the nature of space and exist in determined and fixed relations to one another, so every*
98 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
thing finite follows from the nature of the Infinite, and each finite thing is in a rigid chain of finite things of its own kind — a chain without beginning or end. The necessity of the divine nature appears in all, not as a series of emanations :^rom God, but in a series, each member of which is determined equally by Him.
The Mysticism of Spinoza. From the point of view of man^ mysticism in speculative or religious thought has reference to the immediate apprehension of God. Mysticism frequently accompanies pantheism, and /Vom the 'point of view of God refers to the oneness of His all-inclusive nature. Spinoza's pantheism is also a mysticism which involves the immediate apprehension of the divine by the human ; it involves the oneness of God and man. More often than otherwise mysti- cism is animated by a religious motive, and Spinoza's philosophy is profoundly religious. We have already seen similar mysticism in the Orphic-Pythagorean sect which formed so great a peril to Greek culture in the sixth century B. C, in the neo-Pythagoreans and neo-Platonists at the beginning of this era, in many of the churchmen of the Middle Ages, especially Scotus Erigena and Meister Eckhart. Bruno and many of the Humanists were mystics, and if we should wish to go outside our field, we should find mysticism to be the prevailing attitude of mind of the great Oriental peo- ples. Mysticism frequently is accompanied by belief in occult spiritual appearances, but that is not necessarily the case ; nor was it the case with Spinoza. Spinoza's mysticism was purely intellectual. Although a religious philosophy with an immediate ethical bearing upon con- duct, it was a scientific relationalism that could not tolerate the miraculous and the abnormal psychological
THE RATIONALISTS 99
phenomena (such as clairvoyance, hallucinations, etc.). Spinoza is, on the contrary, distinguished as a mystic be- cause he interpreted the universe in entirely non-human terms. His great service to mysticism lies in divesting the reality of life of every human attribution and lay- ing bare a mathematical skeleton. The desire of the period to find a greater unity in life was responded to by him in a mathematical mysticism. To him the uni- verse is not only divided into parts, not only is there no opposition between God and the world, but life is so completely a rational thing that no exceptional phe- nomena can occur. He believed that any description of God or of nature in anthropomorphic terms disunites life. Spinoza dehumanized the universe, conceiving matter to consist of elements, and conceiving spirit to consist of simple ideas. He resolved the personality of man into parts for the sake of the unity of the universe, and he obtained scientific clearness at the expense of humanity. Thus, instead of being able to say with Des- cartes, "I think and therefore I am," Spinoza could say, and wished only to say, "God thinks" (^Deus cogitat).
Like the usual speculative mystic, Spinoza described his God in the terms of formal deductive logic. God is the most real being, ens realissimuin. What is the most real being to a mystic ? Would reality contain any finite quality such as the world around us contains ? Can you say that God has this particular faculty, or is endowed with that concrete attribute? Does God enjoy, love, hate ; does He create and destroy ? But how can God be the real unity of the world unless He contains in Himself everything in the finite world? We approach here the threshold of the problem of the concrete iini-
100 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
versal, which has engaged the attention of so much of modern philosophy. A concrete universal is all-inclusive of finite existence, but at the same time is a self -con- sistent unity. In contrast with the concrete universal is the abstract universal, which is a unity, but outside of which all finite existence falls. While it was un- doubtedly the concrete universal that Spinoza sought, his method could lead to nothing more concrete than the abstract universals of Plato and the Schoolmen. The world of finite things is included by Spinoza's God in the same way that blocks are included by a string which has been tied around them.
Spinoza's God is the most abstract entity which it is possible to conceive. All finite things fall outside Him. No quality can be predicated of Him, for to define Him is to limit Him. After the manner of the "negative theology " (see vol. i, p. 283), Spinoza refused to ascribe any quality to God. He does not feel, think, or will as we do, nor can extension be ascribed to Him in the sense of finite spaces. We can say only that He is not this and not this. Spinoza's conception of God is reached by dropping off all determinate qualities, until the most general and most abstract term is gained. The barren- ness of this logical conception, its absolute emptiness and abstractness, makes all description of it impossible. God is a bloodless entity, an absolute logical necessity and the most abstract universal. Outside of Him falls all that we call life. If this is God's character, is He everything or nothing? If the process of abstraction rises so far above every limitation to an ens realissimum et generalissimum, — to the most real and most gen- eral entity, — if all content falls away from God, what does such an empty form amount to? The paradox in
THE RATIONALISTS 101
Spinoza's philosophy appears here as in the case of all mysticism — for the mystic revels in paradoxes. This empty generality is all that really is. God is every- thing, and Spinoza points out empirical proof of this by insisting that the transitory life of man has its only meaning in such a substance. God is not this particular thing nor again that finite determination, but He is aU these. He is the timeless reality of the temporal world, the infinity of finite things, the necessity of contingent nature. When therefore Spinoza speaks of God as hav- ing an intellectual love for Himself, and when he says that the attributes of thought and extension constitute the essence of the substance, he is not giving finite characteristics to God. He is struggling with language to express the inherent paradox of his philosophy.
Moreover, the delineation of the finite world with God as a background, as it appears from the point of view of a human being, is an inadequate presentation of Spinoza's profound conception of God. For the sub- stance is not merely a neutral point nor the central point of the universe. The substance is all. All things have neither their explanation nor their existence in themselves. God alone has an existence that explains itself, and He is the reality and essence of all finite things. God is immanent in the world. Just as the sides of a triangle get their meaning from the triangle itself, 80 the significance of the attributes and modes of the substance lies in the substance.
The unity of Spinoza's God is further suggested by the relation of the attributes of thought and extension, however separate they must appear in their quality and causal dependence. Both are aspects of the same sub- stance, in the one case in the form of extension, and
102 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
in the otlier in tlie form of thought. In the all-inclu- sive nature of God, presumably each moment has an in- finite number of correlative moments corresponding to the infinite number of the attributes of God. Since to human beings only two of these worlds lie in sight, only two corresponding modes appear, but always two. This correspondence of the physical and psychical throughout natui-e is called in later times pan2ysychism ; in the rela- tion of the body and mind of a human being it is called psycho-physical parallelism. This correspondence helped Spinoza to solve the apparent dualism of the two worlds. While ideas are determined only by ideas, and motions by motions, both series point below to the divine sub- stance which is the significance of both. They are like the top and bottom sides of a piece of paper, neither side constituting the piece of paper, but both being necessary to it. The substance is immanent in thought as well as in extension. Both thought and extension are aspects of God. The relation of thought and ex- tension through the Deity discloses the monistic char- acter of Spinoza's philosophy and seems to prove that he cannot be a materialist, although some critics have said that he is. The same reality is seen, now as con- sciousness and now as extension.
Spinoza's Doctrine of Salvation. Spinoza divided his Ethics into five parts. The first is a treatment of the nature of God ; the second, of the nature and origin of the mind ; the third, of the emotions ; the fourth, of human bondage ; the fifth, of human freedom. This most important writing of Spinoza, the only treatise on metaphysics which has been called Ethics, is a practical philosophy of life and redemption. The divisions of it, as they appear above, show that the philosophy of life
THE RATIONALISTS 103
is looked at from two points of view : with reference to the nature of God, and with reference to the nature of man. We have above discussed the first point, — Spi- noza's conception of God, whom he regards as pantheistic and mystic. But Spinoza's conception of the nature of the human being in relation to such a God is the other pole of this subject. The problem of life from the human point of view involves primarily the question of human freedom. Human freedom and human bondage are conditions that depend upon the human as well as the divine nature. By Spinoza's eliminating the hu- man element from the nature of God, man himself has been reduced by Spinoza to an insignificant detail in a machine-like universe. Yet for man in his littleness Spinoza hews out a way to God in His greatness by his mystic reconstruction of the universe. Existence in Spinoza's pantheistic mysticism is, after all, a sphere of wonderful grandeur for man, — more wonderful and of wider utility than the existence which man is ordinarily supposed to possess. Since God is the reality of every- thing, man is deified ; even the loss of man's essential humanity is the apotheosis of man.
Himian salvation and freedom consist in being like God ; bondage consists in being unlike Him, in mistaking the unreality of life for His reality. We are endowed with the ability of forming an adequate idea of God by means of our reason, but we are also endowed with the faculties of sensation, emotion, and imagination. The latter faculties make man a passive creature, for they bring him into dependence upon the things that act upon him and into bondage to them. We are passive when our activities are limited by such limited objects. While a passion seems to be the moit active and turbulent
104 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of our faculties, if we look at it more closely, we find that instead of being active ourselves during a passion, we are being acted upon by an external object. Only as we are purely rational, — only through the reason, — are we purely active. It is then that we are like God, free like Him, and then do we rise from insignificance to greatness. Then we transcend our false ideas of free- dom and become necessary beings, for in God freedom is necessity.
To be free from the passions and the finite things of the world we must understand their nature ; for to un- derstand a thing is to be delivered from it. An illusion is not an illusion when we know it to be such. To see that all the passions, sensations, imaginations, and all the other modes of thought are human limitations, is to dwell within the reason. Spinoza's freedom is not, as will be seen, freedom in the ordinary psychological meaning of the term, but is the metaphysical freedom of being identical with the deity and determined by no finite thing. Freedom is rational knowledge. Never- theless, freedom is ethical also, for it consists in over- coming the passions by reason. Freedom, therefore, has two sides : an escape from the emotions and an escape from obscure ideas — the goal in both cases being the life of reason. To attain freedom is to see the world as God sees it, which is the same as the reason sees it. This is to see each finite thing as eternal. Any con- crete thing may be regarded by the human being as a finite and isolated thing out of all relation to other objects ; or the same thing may be regarded as a detail of infinity. Looked at by itself, a thing is seen partially and falsely, for no finite thing has its explanation in itself. It is, however, seen truly when it is regarded, to
THE RATIONALISTS 105
use Spinoza's own celebrated phrase, " under a certain form of eternity" (suh specie aetei'nitatis). This con- ception of eternity is one of the most admirable in Sjiinoza's teaching. When man rises through the rea- son to the consciousness of the eternity of the truth of a thing, the thing itself is transformed, and the man him- self has gained salvation. Any circle that I may draw is imperfect, every leaf upon the forest trees is defective, all moral activities are wanting, if regarded in their time-limitations. But below all the imperfections of the universe is its absolute mathematical perfectness. There is nothing so abortive and evil that it does not have its aspect of eternity. Side by side with Spinoza's concep- tion of infinity is his conception of eternity. Infinity is everlastingness, eternity is quality of being. Eternity has no reference to time. One minute may be eternal. The infinity of the substance is one aspect ; the eternity of the substance is another. That eternity gained through the reason is salvation and immortality. God is reason, and by the act of the reason do we become one with Him. Our knowledge is, therefore, the measure of our morality. Knowledge and morality are the same ; and whatever increases our understanding is morally good ; whatever diminishes our understanding is morally wrong.
Nevertheless, from the point of view of the philoso- pher, there is nothing in the world that is morally good or bad, — nothing which merits his hatred, love, fear, contempt, or pity, — since all that occurs is necessary. The philosopher's knowledge of the determinism of the world lifts him above the usually conceived world of finite things to this mystic world, reconstructed by his intellectual love of nature or God. Love for God will
106 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
give to everything its proper value. It is the highest form of human activity. Love for God is an absolutely disinterested feeling, and is not therefore like human love, which is the passing from a less state to a greater. Love for God is peace, resignation, and contentment, for it is oneness with God. In fact, the love of man for God is the love of God for man ; it is the love of God for Himself, since man cannot love God without becoming God. Thus man intellectually recognizes his oneness with God, and rejoices. Immortality is absorption in the eternal and necessary substance of the world. It is a common misconception that immor- tality is duration after death; immortality consists in looking at things under the aspect of eternity. The finite man perishes, but man's real self, which is God, survives.
Summary of Spinoza's Teaching. The rationalism of Spinoza is the final word of scholastic realism. It is a mathematical scholasticism in which the attempt is to make clear by the method of deduction all metaphysical problems. That the philosophical teaching of Spinoza is inspiring and ennobling, no one will gainsay. That his philosophy is not clear, is also true. In the begin- ning of his discussion, spirit is subordinated to na- ture ; at the end, nature is subordinated to spirit. The result is that under the hands of Spinoza God has become a pui-e abstraction and without content, the world is an illusion, dualism is superseded by a mo- nistic parallelism, individual activity gives way and becomes a pantheistic determinism. Yet amid all this a reconstructed world arises in wliich man is recom- pensed for all his losses by his participation in infinity and eternity.
THE RATIONALISTS 107
Leibnitz * as the Finisher of the Renaissance and the Forerunner of the Enlightenment. Leibnitz is the last of the remarkable group of Kationalists of the Renaissance, who so fully represent the spirit of its Natural Science epoch. But Leibnitz also carries us into the next period of modern philosophy — the En- lightenment. He is the transition philosopher. If the reader will examine the dates of his life, he will ob- serve that Leibnitz lived until twenty-five years after the Enlightenment was ushered in by Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding (1690). But as Leib- nitz had already formed his own philosophy by the year 1686, even so versatile a mind as his could not then renounce the Rationalistic point of view for a new one. Some of his writings, such as his Correspondence with Clarh and Bayle, his Theodicy, and his New Essays, show that he participated in the new movement of the next period. Yet the majority of his philosophi- cal writings show him to be a Rationalist. Although he may be called the " father of the Enlightenment,' the body of his thought belongs to the Renaissance. His main motive was that which animated all Ration- alists — of stating theology m scientific terms. The im- mediate occasion for his doing this was the political ne- cessity of peace among the religious bodies of German3^
The effort of Leibnitz to restore the individual to his central place in the universe was a secondary motive. It nevertheless makes him the forerunner of the En- lightenment. Of the Rationalists, Leibnitz speaks for
* Read Ranrl, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 199- 21 4 ; Euckeii, Problem of Human Life, ])p. 388-405 ; Weber, History of Philosophy, pp. 343-369 ; Hibben, Phil, of En- lightenment, pp. 161-193.
108 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the future, just as Spinoza for the past. Leibnitz unites the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, just as Spi- noza joins the Renaissance and the Middle Ages. Spi- noza is the Rationalist who utters the final word of scholastic realism, while Leibnitz presages the coming individualism. Spinoza's philosophy is science buried in traditionalism; Leibnitz's is science breaking through traditionalism. Spinoza harks back to universals and particulars, substance and forms ; Leibnitz points for- ward to vortex rings, energy, and dynamics. From Leibnitz's original purpose to rationalize theology, and to succeed where Descartes and Spinoza had failed, there emerges a new motive. He no longer lays the emphasis entirely upon the universal, but he shifts it in part to the particular. The pantheism of Spinoza had systematized the individual out of its reality. Leibnitz's conception of the individual as dynamic and his con- ception of the importance of the infinitesimal redeem the individual and bring Leibnitz into more modem times. To classify Leibnitz as a Rationalist is, there- fore, not to describe him fully.
The Life and Writings of Leibnitz (1646-1716). Compared with Descartes and Spinoza, Leibnitz had a life that was long in time and rich in experience. Des- cartes died at 54 and Spinoza at 45, while Leibnitz lived to be 70. In striking contrast with Spinoza's career, there was no time in the life of Leibnitz after his gradua- tion from the university that he was not in public ser- vice. He held the offices that would naturally go to the hanger-on of princes — some of them grandiose ones. While theoretically the interests of the three Rational- ists were the same, Leibnitz differed from his prede- cessors in that his study of philosophical problems al-
THE RATIONALISTS 109
ways grew out of some practical problem or political occasion. L/eibnitz was not an academic thinker, and his " writings were called forth to estimate some re- cent book, to outline the system for the use of a friend, to meet some special difficulty, or to answer some definite criticism." Philosg£hy_was^qnly_QBie of the interests of Leibnitz. He was jurist, historian, dip- lomat, mathematician,'physical scientist, theologian, and philologist. Leibnitz was as much at home with the theorjes of Plato and Aristotle of ancient time, with those of St. Thomas and Duns Scotus of mediaeval time, as with the science of Descartes and Galileo. He was precocious, had a prodigious memory and a reactive mind. Li the wealth of his information and the pro- ductiveness of his genius, he stands with Aristotle as unequaled. Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibnitz belonged to the inner circle of scholars of the time, but Leibnitz was also in personal touch with political affairs and in intimate acquaintance with many of the important rul- ers. He was in the service of the Elector of Mainz and later of George I of England when George was only Elector of Hanover. He was distinguished by Peter the Great of Russia and Ernst August, Emperor of Ger- many. He corresponded with Eugene of Savoy and he was ambassador to Louis XIV of France. Sophie Char- lotte of Hanover, who married the King of Prussia, was especially interested in him, and he wrote for her his Theodicy. The three great Rationalists came from different strata of society. Descartes was a nobleman's son, and he voluntarily relinquished the life that Leib- nitz was ambitious to enjoy. Spinoza came from the lower class. Leibnitz was the son of a college professor and belonged to the upper middle class. The ambitions
110 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of Leibnitz reached for large ends, as often happens among educated people in the middle walks of life. Among other things, he tried to reconcile the Catholics and Protestants, and he tried to universalize language by getting universal characters for all languages.
The literary production of Leibnitz was enormous, consisting of some lengthy works, but mainly of corre- spondence (at one time with a thousand persons) and of dissertations to learned journals and societies. No one book contains his philosophy — the Monadolorjy com- ing the nearest to doing so. His most considerable work is his Theodicy. He himself published in book form only two works : his university dissertation on Individ- uation and the TJieodicy.*
In spite of his many successes, the life of Leibnitz was not happy. From death or other causes his noble patrons changed, until he was left without a patron. His life went from bad to worse, and his death occurred almost unnoticed.
The seventy years of Leibnitz's life fall into four periods. That he passed through three of these periods by the time he was thirty shows the voracity and ver- satility of his mental powers during their formative and acquisitive state. It also reveals the unusual length of his productive period, — from his thirtieth to his seven- tieth year. Ten years after his productive period be- gan, when he was forty, he had completed his philo-
* A good selection of Leibnitz's works for the student to read is : Discourse on Metaphysics (1690), Letters to Ar- nauld, Monadology (1714), New System of Nature (1695), Principles of Nature and Grace (1714), Introduction to New Essays (1704), and the Theodicy {1110). See Calkins, Persistent Problems in Phil., p. 74, note.
THE RATIONALISTS 111
sophical theory, so that the last thirty years of his life were free for its elaboration and elucidation, and in part for his departure from it. The details of Leibnitz's life are as follows : —
1. Leipsic and University Life (1646-1666). Leibnitz was the son of a professor of the University
of Leipsic. He entered the University at the age of fif- teen ; received his bachelor's degree at seventeen, and his doctor's degree at Altdorf at the age of twenty. He was offered a professorship on account of his thesis, but he declined. He published as his bachelor's thesis, The Principle of Individuation (1663).
2. Mainz and Diplomacy (1666-1672). Meeting Baron John of Boineburg, who became his
patron, Leibnitz went with him to Mainz, and entered the service of the Elector of Mainz. At this time Leib- nitz wrote many pamphlets at the Elector's request, on the religious and political questions of the day. He wrote A New Physical Hypothesis in 1671.
3. Paris and Science (1672-1676).
Leibnitz began this period with a diplomatic mission to the court of Louis XIV in 1672 ; but during the year both Boineburg and the Elector died, and Mainz was no longer his home nor diplomacy his interest.
He remained in Paris (and London) three years longer, and spent the time in acquiring the " new sci- ence." In Paris he met Arnauld the Cartesian, Tschirn- hausen the German mathematician, logician, and most discriminating critic of Spinoza, and he studied with Huyghens the Dutch mathematician. In London he met Boyle, the chemist, Oldenburg, secretary of the Academy of Science, Collins, the mathematician, and he corresponded with Newton. On his return to Han-
112 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
over he called on Spinoza, who showed him the manu- script of the Ethics.
4. Hanover and Philosophy (1676-1716).
Leibnitz became court councilor and librarian to the Duke of Hanover (Brunswick-Liineburg). He was in- volved in a multitude of administrative, historical, and political tasks, and he carried on an enormous corre- spondence. Among other things he wrote the history of the reigning family, which necessitated his going to Eome and Vienna. In 1684 he published his discovery of the differential calculus, over which arose the cele- brated controversy as to whether he or Newton made the prior discovery. In 1686, in his fortieth year, he con- structed his philosophical system. However, he showed his affiliation to the coming age by introducing into his system in 1697 the term "monad." Nearly all his im- portant works were produced in this period. In 1700 he founded the Academy of Sciences in Berlin. He was instrumental in the founding of an academy at St. Petersburg, and he planned academies at Dresden and Vienna.
The Three Influences upon the Thought of Leibnitz.
(1) His Early Classical Studies. The father of Leibnitz, who was a professor of moral philosophy at Leipsic, died when his son was young. Left much to himself, the boy spent his time in his father's library. At eight years he had acquired Latin ; at twelve he had read Seneca, Pliny, Quintilian, Herodotus, Xeno- phon, Cicero, Plato, the Roman historians, the Greek and Latin fathers. He became so absorbed in scholastic studies that his friends feared that he would not leave them, " not knowing that my mind coiild not be satis- fied with only one kind of thing." There can be no
THE RATIONALISTS 113
question that this scholastic training gave him a first hand and sympathetic appreciation of scholastic philo- sophy. The Aristotelian conception of cosmic purpose, which he got at this time, never left him. Among the writers of the Natural Science Period he alone returned to Aristotle. He made Aristotle's teleological cause an integral part of his doctrine. His motto finally became, in his Theodicy^ "Everything is best in this best of possible worlds." While for a time he turned from Aristotle to Descartes, in his final construction of his theory he borrowed more from Aristotle.
(2) The New Science and His Own Discoveries. Leibnitz was more fortunate than many of his contem- poraries in that his university had already included in its curriculum the study of mathematics. At the age of fifteen he was devoting himself to mathematics at Jena, and he said that the study of Kepler, Galileo, and Des- cartes made him feel as though " transported into a different world." Later in life he said of himself, that at fifteen he had decided to give up the scholastic the- ory of Forms for the mathematical explanation of the world. He became acquainted with the theories of Hobbes and Gassendi in 1670, when he was at Mainz. In 1672, at the age of twenty-six, when he was in Paris, he made himself possessor of all that the celebrated circle of Parisian scientists had to teach. He had gone to Paris a dualist ; he returned to his native land with the Aris- totelian teleology side by side in his mind with the Spinozistic conception of identity and necessity, the Spi- nozistic method, and the mathematical theory of the significance of infinitely small particles. The next ten years (1676-1686) were spent in overcoming his own dualism by systematizing these new theories acquired
114 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
from so many sources. In 1680 he had universalized the concept of force so as to apply it to both souls and bodies. In 1684 he published his discovery of the differential calculus, in which he has had to share honors with New- ton. In 1685 he asserted that the centres of force have individuality. He was led to this conclusion on account of the discovery of small organisms by the microscopes of Swammerdam and Leeuwenhook. In 1686 he suc- cessfully organized his collected material into his final system, although it was not until eleven years later (1697) that he called these centres " monads." Prob- ably he got the term " monad " not from Bruno, but from the mystic chemist, Van Helmont.
Not only the content, but the form of his philosophy was determined by his mathematical studies. His philo- sophical diction is remarkably lucid. Mathematics re- inforced his early resolve " in words to attain clearness and in matter usefulness." His later discussions con- tain many terms that he had borrowed directly from mathematics.
(3) Political Pressure for Religious Reconcilia- tion. When Frederick the Wise of Saxony in 1519 refused the crown of Emperor, Germany was thrown into internal strife that in one hundred and thirty years destroyed all its material wealth and depopulated the country. This terminated in the Thirty Years' War (1618-1648) and the Peace of Westphalia. Leibnitz was born two years before peace was declared. He was the first German scientist in two hundred years. Both Catholics and Protestants were weary of strife, and there was a general movement toward religious recon- ciliation. Thus religious amity was the most urgent public question.
THE RATIONALISTS 115
Pietism had been one of the movements in Germany during the recovery of the country from the Thirty Years' War, and it represented the best side of Ger- man civilization at that time. It was a reaction on the one side against the mechanical theory of the scientists, and on the other against the destructive strife of the old and new confessions. The mother of Leibnitz was not only a Protestant, but also a Pietist, so that the subject of religion early formed an important part of her son's training. When he entered the diplomatic service of the Elector of Mainz the question of religious reconciliation took practical form for him. No doubt his philosophy as a theory of reconciliation grew out of such practical issues, as they were presented to him at Mainz. Leibnitz had, therefore, a part in the religious reaction in Germany in the last of the seventeenth century, which aimed to reconcile the divergent inter- ests of religion and science. He tried to effect this in no external way, by patching together irreconcilable elements, but in an internal way, by an examination of fundamental principles. With his early training, his theological reading, and his wide public experience, Leibnitz was fitted to take a prominent part in the movement for reconciliation.
The Method of Leibnitz. Although the philosophers who immediately followed Spinoza did not dare to accept his philosophical conclusions, they adopted his method. They unitedjtjvith the syllogistic processes of formal logic for the deduction of all knowledge. This method became very prevalent, as is seen in the prac- tices of the German Cartesians and in the preparation of academic text-books. Examples of this are Jung, Weigel, who was Leibnitz's teacher, and Puffendorf,
116 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
who tried to deduce by the geometrical method the entire system of natural right from a single principle of human need. In the next century Wolff used this method in writing his Latin text-books.
When this aspect of Spinoza's teaching was gaining a foothold in Germany, Leibnitz came into sympathy with it through his teacher, Weigel, and at first was one of its most ardent supporters. In jest he showed by this geometrical, syllogistic method in sixty propo- sitions that the Count Palatine of Neuberg miist be elected King of the Poles. In seriousness he believed that all philosophical controversies would cease jwhen philosophy should be stated like a mathematical cal- culation.
Hobbes's theory of words as counters to be used in conceptual reckoning, the universal formulas of the Art of Lull and the pains which Bruno had taken for its improvement, the Cartesian belief that the geometriqal method would prove to be an art of_ invention — all these~were influences upon Leibnitz^ that comfiiitted him to the method of Spinoza and made hini^ pursue that method energetically. Leibnitz was part of the widespread movement of the time to form a Lingua Adamica — a imiversal language, which should discover fundamental philosophical conceptions and the logical operations of their combinations. In brief, Leibnitz hoped to form a philosophical calculus.
What, asked Leibnitz, are the highest truths which in their combination yield all knowledge ? What are the truths, so immediately and intuitively certain, that they force themselves upon the mind as self-evident and thereby form the ground for the deduction of all know- ledge ? They are of two classes : (1) The universal
THE RATIONALISTS 117
truths of the reason, and (2) The facts of experience. The truths of the reason are forever true ; the facts of experience have a truth for that single instance. But both are true in themselves and. not from deduction from anything else. They are " first truths," for a thing is true if it can be deduced from the reason or tested as an experienced fact. The two kinds of truth are the rational or a j)m)_7'i^ and-the empirical or a posteriorL-y^ The difference between the starting point of the Ra- tionalism of Leibnitz and the Enlightenment of Locke appears here. Locke said, " There is nothing in the mind that does not come from the senses." " Except the mind itself and its operations," added Leibnitz in comment.
But there is a difference between these two kinds of truth. The truths of the reason ate clear and^ distinct ; the truths of experience are clear but jiot distinct. Leibnitz is, be it observed, making a distinction be- tween the two terms of the pet phrase of the Rational- ists— "clear and distinct ideas." He means that ra- tional truth is so transparent that it is impossible to conceive its opposite ; that empirical truth is only clear, and its opposite is thinkable. It is impossible to think that the three angles of a triangle equal anything but two right angles, but it is possible to think that its side, which is now two inches, may be four inches. Thus emerge the two logical principles upon which Leibnitz founded his philosophy : rational truths depend upon the Prhi^ijilf, nf Cnnt.raflirtinnj empirical truths de- pend upon the Principle of Svfficient Reason. At first Leibnitz conceived thaFthis distinction between truths did not apply to God, but only to man. Man must re- joice in the few rational truths in his possession and
118 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
be content with merely establishing the actuality of his experiences. The divine reason can, however, see the impossibility of the opposite both in rational and in empirical truth. Later on Leibnitz conceived the dis- tinction between the two kinds of truth to be absolute. That is, in the nature of things the two truths differ. The rational truth has no opposite, but is a necessary truth ; the empirical truth has an opposite, and is a contingent truth.
Leibnitz thus shows the fundamental principles upon which knowledge is based, but what does he say about the logical method of their combination ? Nothing. No one would ever suspect from Leibnitz's philosophical remains that he had planned a system of philosophy according to the method of Spinoza. The many pam- phlets of Leibnitz on many scattered subjects show how far short he fell of his ideal of a universal philo- sophical calculus. He was too versatile, his interests were too diversified, to carry through so slow and plod- ding a task. He merely stated the principles upon which a systematic symbolic philosophy might rest, with- out developing these principles in a logical way. Like Bacon, Leibnitz conceived a method that was more of a hope than an accomplishment.
The Immediate Problem for Leibnitz, Perhaps Leibnitz was called away from this purely theoretical problem of method by the practical problem of recon- ciling science and religion, which problem in his day had become particularly acute. For science had made rapid strides since the days of Descartes, had drawn very far away from religion, and Leibnitz's attempt to reconcile science and reli^gion was much more difficult than that of the preceding Rationalists. Leibnitz had
THE RATIONALISTS 119
accepted the most radical results of science, but he saw that science had yielded only a mechanical view of the world. Politics demanded in the exigencies of that hour some principle of unity. He sought to find some philosophical principle for the living., religious char- acter ofjhe universe, and a principle that at the same time would preserve the results of science. He there- fore sought to leave the conception of mechanical na- ture intact and go behind it for a teleological princijDle. He examined the mechanical principles of the science of his day and found them embedded in a deeper meta- physical principle.
The Result of Leibnitz's Examination of the Princi- ples of Science * — A Plurality of Metaphysical Sub- stances. What was the developed scientific principle of Leibnitz's time ? And what was the result of his analysis of it ? The principle was the mathematical prin- ciple of Galileo in more complex form, for there had been added to it since Galileo's day the concept of the atom. That is to say, the fundamental scientific principle was that nature consists of the measurable movements of atoms. From his analysis of this, Leibnitz obtained as follows his conception of a plural number of substances, which he called monads.^
1. Leibnitz first scrutinized the scientific conception of motion. His analysis of motion into infinitely small impulses by the method employed by Galileo, Huy- ghens, and Newton had already led him to one im- portant discovery — the differential calculus. Now he scrutinizes it further and discovers that the funda- mental ground_oL.naotion isybrce^ While Leibnitz was
* Read Hibben, Phil, of Enlightenment, ch. vii ; Windel- band, Hist, of Phil, PP- 420-425.
\
120 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
in entire agreement with other scientists in their effort to reduce all phenomena to motion, he insisted that motion was not by any means the fundamental thing. He calls the Cai'tesian conception of motion the ante- chamber of true philosophy. There is no absolute mo- tion nor absolute rest. Motion and rest.^e relative to each other. Descartes' theory that there is conserva- tion of motion is incorrect. Motion and rest are the phenomenal changes of ^orce. Force alone is constant and conserved. Physics points beneath itself to meta- physics; motion points to force. Force is what is fun- damental in nature. Force is " that which in the pre- sent state of things brings about a change in the fu- ture." Therefore force as the substance of nature is super-spatial and immaterial, and therefore the basis of the new physics ought to be dynamic metaphysical substance.
2. Leibnitz next examined the scientific conception of the atom. Gassendi, one of that celebrated group of Parisian scientists, had been the author of the introduc- tion of Greek atomism into modern thought. It had been generally accepted by scientists and combined with the mathematical hypothesis of Galileo. Leibnitz had known Gassendi in Paris, and he took the hard, inelastic atoms of Gassendi under examination. He agreed that the atomist was perfectly correct in saying that material bodies consist of simple parts or atoms. But Leibnitz insisted that the atomist erred in thinking such simple parts to be physical. However simple the parts might physically appear to be, they were not really simple. However small a bit of matter may be, it fSay be divided again, and the dividing process may go onto infinity. The atom is the extended, and the extended cannot be simple
THE RATIONALISTS 121
' ^pr real. Substance must be unextended, and the ma- terialists were wrong in attributing substance to the ex- tended. Is there anything simple that has a qualitative character ? Is there anything real below the physical atoms ? Yes, the metaphysical atoms. TheJndivisible,- immaterial unit^ lies^beneath the physical atom, and in order to reach it we must pass^eneath~the_pliYsi£al into the metaphysical. This immaterial or niptaphyt^ip^^ atom is called by Leibnitz the mo yiac?; and thus is Leibnitz's
theory called monqdoLo^J/
^ There are three kinds of points, or units, or " simples."
^ There is the mathematical point, whioh is simple enough,
but it is only imaginary. There is tne physical point, or
Oatom, which is real but not simple. There is, lastly, the metaphysical point, or monad, which is both real and siimple. The metaphysical point is the only true point. To call the material atoms real, only shows " the feeble- ness of the imagination, which is glad to rest, and is, therefore, in haste to make an end of division and analysis."
3. Leibnitz then identified force, as the substance of motion^ with the metaphysical atom, as the substance of the material atom. The result was the monad, as he conceived it. The monads are the principles of active working. They are the super-spatial and immaterial principles in which the mechanical principles of the universe have their roots and meaning. Nature is not dead; it is not merely extended. It is alive, resistant, and reproductive. If, as Spinoza taught, there were only one substance, nature would be non-resistant and pas- sive. But as a matter of fact there are many substances acting for themselves, many bodies resisting other bodies. They are the centres of separate activity, and
122 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
there are as many forces as there are things. There is no body without movement, no movement without forcg. Thus does Leibnitz reintroduce vitalism in a maturer form than is seen in neo-Platonism. Life^becomes the principle of nature. Purpose is placed at the centre of things.
The Double Nature of the Monads. The student will find that the philosophy of Leibnitz is spoken of as a pluralism, but the student will also find that Leibnitz devoted nearly all his strength to prove that the world is after all a unity. Leibnitz analyzed the world into a plural number of parts, and the question then with him was, how to put these parts together again in an organic unity. This accomplishment would depend a good deal upon his conception of the nature of the parts, r- The monads have a double character. Leibnitz con- ) ceived the monad (1) as a force centre and (2) as an ^immaterial soul. This makes an equivalence of psychical and physical attributes which reminds us of the Stoics' ♦' fiery reason " of God. The word " force," as Leibnitz uses it, squints both toward physics and toward psycho- logy. But such ambiguity about the monads, the corner- stones in Leibnitz's philosophy, assists Leibnitz's recon- .ciliation at the start. Here, inja miniature, the physical land spiritual lie in unity. The monad is- conceived as a \soul-atom.
* Leibnitz came to philosophy with a mind saturated with the mathematical ideas of the continuous, the infin- itesimal, and the possible. He thought of the monads as potentialities or possibilities. He looked upon the world as essentially a developing world. Behind the facts that seem to us inflexible, lies the great world of generating force. Explanation of the actual can be made only in
THE RATIONALISTS 123
view of.:ffliat the actuaLmay be and has been. Let us enlarge the scope of man by so widening his conception of the actual that it will include the^ possible. Leibnitz also spoke of the monads as infinitesimal. He thereby lifted the conception of the infinitesimal from the realm of mathematics into that of metaphysics, just as Hobbes universalized the conception of mechanics by lifting it to metaphysics. Leibnitz, therefore, did not regard the limits of perception as the limits of nature : the reality of a nature object must be too small to be the object of perception. In the same way he made use of his mathe- matical conception of ^^ontinuity. Leibnitz's conception of nature-continuity is one of his contributions to phi- losophy. Within itself the world of nature consists of a continuous gradation from the lower to the higher forms ; and also the world of nature is continuous with the world of the spirit. There are no leaps in the series from matterto God. Seeming differences in kind are only differences in degree ; for example,_evil is Qiily the absence of good ; matter is only an obscure idea of spirit. But this Leibnitzian atomism consists of soul-atoms. These monads, these force-centres are souls, and the mathematical qualities have a place in Leibnitz's de- scription of the psychical powers of the monad. The monad is a soul, for soul is the only substance in the universe that may pass through many changes and it, itself, not change. The self is the only subject of which many predicates may be asserted, while it, itself, may not be the predicate of any other subject.^ The idea of myself underlies all my mental states.^ The monad is an entelechy, or an entity having its purpose witliin itself. All its attributes are contained within itself, and it is, therefore, by nature, sufficient unto itself. It is an
124 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
individual which passes from one state to another, moved by its " constitutional appetition."
Among the psychical powers none is more important in Leibnitz's description of the monad than its power of representation. Representation is the general func- tion of the monad — from the lowest to the highest monad. This means that each monad is the world force, yet in a particular form, — a world substance, but in some peculiar aspect. Every monad is a microcosm. Each represents the world so far as it is conscious of its own activity. But it is evident that all things in the universe are not conscious, and therefore all soul-monads are not conscious. In souls there are, therefore, more than con- scious thoughts — there are thoughts that are uncon- scious. Among the Rationalists Leibnitz is the first to give significance to the so-called unconscious states that form so important a place in modern psychology. (But see Plotinus.) As a wave is composed of small particles of water, so the mind is made up of a myriad of un- conscious states. The conscious state is the general effect of the whole. A soul-monad contains in itself at all times representations of the whole world, some obscure, some clear. This power of universal representation makes the monad a microcosm. What we call knowledge of the external world is our representation of it within ourselves. This representation is possible to us because we reproduce it in miniature. Since the monad directly perceives only itself and its own states, it follows that the more clearly and distinctly it is conscious of its own activities, the more adequately does it represent the cos- mos. The converse is also true — that the more a monad represents the cosmos, the more truly does it represent itself.
THE RATIONALISTS 125
In his development of his description of the monad, Leibnitz hits upon two catch-phrases, one of which pre- sents his doctrine of the physical isolation of the monad, the other presents the doctrine of its ideal psychical unity. These phrases are : " the monads are windowless " and " the monads mirror the universe." By " window- less " Leibnitz means that each monad is " like a sepa- rate world, self-sufficient, independent of every other creature." " Having no windows by which anything can enter or depart," the monad can perceive only its own states. Whatever happens to it comes from itself alone as a purely internal principle. The monad's develop- ment is self-development and not the result of external chansres. Nevertheless the monad is a " mirror of the universe." In this psychical qualification of the nature of the monad, its physical isolation vanishes and the way is open for a unity of monads, which would have otherwise seemed to be physically hopelessly sundered. How is it possible for each of the numberless monads, all so different, to " mirror the universe " ? The answer is found in their psychical power of representation.
The Two Forms of Leibnitz's Conception of the Unity of the Substances. The principle of unity among the monads is called by Leibnitz a preestahlished harmony. He presented this principle of harmony in two ways. In part the harmony comes out of their constitution, as he conceived it to be. In part Leibnitz artificially superimposed it upon the monads for theo- logical reasons. In either case it is preestahlished.
The Intrinsic Unity of the Monads — The Philo- sophical Unity. There is a family resemblance among the monads. The lowest reproduces the universe in obscure and elementary representations. Minerals and
126 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
plants are sleeping monads with entirely unconscious ideas. Animals are dreaming monads. Man is a waking monad. The highest monad is God, who reproduces tha universe in clear and distinct ideas. Between God and matter there is a series of monads, graded as to the clearness of their ideas. All contain the universe by representation. All are bound together according to the principle of continuity; plants are lower animals and animals are less perfect men. Man is a monad whose conscious activity has risen to the height of self-con- sciousness, with the cognate power of reason. There is no inert matter ; no soul-less bodies nor body-less souls. The smallest portion of dust is the habiliment of ani- malculae. Nothing is dead, and nature is a gradation of monads in differing degrees of activity.
Metaphysically the monads are isolated, yet in na- ture as we see them, they live in groups, and compose the things which we call plants, animals, and men. An organic thing is a combination of monads with a central ruling monad. This central monad is the soul of the group ; the subordinate ones form the body of the organ- ism. The influence of the soul or ruling monad upon the body-monads is purely ideal. They all strive for the same end, which the soul represents more clearly. The group acts spontaneously and together, not from any outside influence. An inanimate object differs from such a living organism, inasmuch as it is a group of monads without a soul or a ruling, central monad ; and there- fore such a monad is both soul and body. There is therefore no dualism between soul and body in any creatures, for body is only obscure or unconscious ac- tivity. The body consists of monads having a confused sense of their activity.
THE RATIONALISTS 127
This continuity and unity within the world, as Leib- nitz sees it, is only the logical development of the unity with which he originally endowed his monads. Although he starts the monads as " windowless," he also says that " they mirror the universe." They are so conceived as to be originally physically separated, but psycholog- ically and ideally united. " Their natural harmony re- sides in an ideal of perfect activity, while in actual ex- istence they are independent." The ideal which unites them is God, the last term in the graded series of the monads. He is the monad of monads, because He is perfect, conscious activity. Just as the various groups of monads are ruled by a central soul-monad, so the world of these groups is an hierarchy, which derives its unitary and harmonious character from this dominating monad. The world may be likened to a pyramid with God at the apex. The world is like a machine which differs from other machines, in that its parts are little machines. Although the parts seem to operate sepa- rately, they are under the dominating control of God. God is their intrinsic unity and the universe is a pre- established harmony.
A comparison with Spinoza's conception of the world of nature brings out Leibnitz's meaning effectively. Both philosophers conceive nature phenomena to be under the law of mechanical causation. To Spinoza, however, all phenomena are qualitatively alike ; there are no grades or distinctions of value between them. All are modes of substance and all illusions in the sight of God. To Spinoza phenomena are homogeneous. Leib- nitz's estimate of the world of nature is quite different, and for him nature has a far richer endowment. The phenomena of nature are not homogeneous. Their
128 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
difference does not consist in their content, but in the degree in which they represent the universe. The law of nature is a unifying principle that gives unitary in- dividuality to the members under the law. The indi- viduality of the terms of the nature-series is implied in the very nature of the law of necessity, and on the other hand, the individual terms, for their part, trans- form the law of necessity into a principle of unity that is higher than bare necessity. In a necessitated series, Leibnitz points out, each term is determined by the pre- ceding, and in turn each term determines the events that follow. Thus, while nature phenomena are a series and a necessitated series, it is a series whose existence depends upon each event having not only its place, but its unique place. No other event can fill that place, and the conditions that give the event its place constitute its individuality. Every finite event has, so to speak, its formula, and this gives individuality to each term of the series, which appeared to Spinoza only as a homo- geneous, mathematical, and characterless mode. Life is meaningful to Leibnitz, because each member of the necessitated series of events has its unique part to play. The changes of life are to Spinoza void of meaning, be- cause he conceives them to be undifferentiated. The law of mechanical necessity became under Leibnitz's hands a principle of harmony, a teleological principle. Even in the necessitated mathematical series, such as Spi- noza conceived the world to be, Leibnitz believed that necessity implies individuality and individuality implies purpose.
How vital, therefore, does life now appear, with its mechanical members transformed into living units ! Universal striving or force fills nature, and the surging
THE RATIONALISTS 129
of individual forces gives a new meaning to the unity of the whole. The mechanical series — the physiological , changes of our bodies and the efficient causes in nature^ — are only the expression of the inner teleological de- velopment. Leibnitz points out several pregnant prin- ciples that are aspects of this preestablished but in- trinsic harmony. In the first place, nature has no breaks and abhors a vacuum ; and the series is a continuous one, — the law of continuity. Member follows mem- ber in continuous and graded order. Their qualitative differences are differences of quality of activity. Rest and motion, good and evil, are differences of degree/ In the second place, there is nothing superfluous ; no two things in nature are alike. If they were alike, they would be identical — the law of the identity of indis- cernihles. Although there is no absolute antithesis or contrast between things, thei-e is no absolute likeness. Every monad must be differentiated from every other intrinsically, i. e. according to its perfected activity/' Therefore, in the third place, every member has an ex- cuse for being — the law of sufficient reason. Every member has its part to perform and no other can act as an understudy for it. However insignificant any member may appear to be, it is as unique as its bigger neighboiU'^-*
The Superimposed Unity of the Monads — The Theological Unity. The intrinsic unity of the monads is derived naturally from the monads themselves, but itjs an unattained ideal for which they strive. When Leibnitz turns his philosophy into a theodicy, or justi- fication of the nature of God, this unity of the world takes on a different form and assumes a theological im- portance. The unity is no longer an intrinsic unity, with no actual but only ideal existence depending upon the
130 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
highest monad in the series, but is an actual personality who exists apart from the world. The world is his eter- nal purpose. Probably this conception was always in the background of Leibnitz's thought, but it cannot be deduced from his philosophy. It is a conception after- wards superimposed upon his philosophy. Leibnitz now conceives God not as an ideal goal, but as a perfect and actual person, whose reason impelled Him to construct the best possible world. The world in which we live is the world He chose. It is perfectly conceivable that the world could be different. Why, among all the pos- sible worlds, did God choose to construct this world ? There is no reason in logic, but in fact. There was no necessity for its construction. The fact is the excel- lence of the world. Spinoza said that aU possible worlds exist. Leibnitz said this best possible world exists. Look about you ; is it not so ?
The best possible world is a world of free agents, whose acts are rewarded or punished according to their deserts. If we discover what seems to be inexplicable evil, we must regard it as an incident in the harmony of the whole. The world would be less good without evil. There is no more evil than there ought to be. The world which God conceived to be the best possible — this world — is a world of lights and shades. Evil comes from the free agency of man, and God is not responsible for it. It is better to have evil and free agency than no evil and no free agency. Evil after all is not positive, and is only due to the indistinct ideas of man. It is the absence of good, as cold is the absence of heat.
Thus a preestablished harmony was constructed by Leibnitz that does not come out of his original philo- sophical premises. Leibnitz used his celebrated figure of
THE RATIONALISTS 131
the two clocks to illustrate the harmony of the monads. Two clocks keep the same time, not because they influ- ence one another (interaction), nor because the maker moves the hands of one (Occasionalism), but because they have been thus constructed" by ah intelligent Cre- ator. Thus the harmony of the world implies a personal God. Leibnitz's philosophical Rationalism here passed into theology, and his metaphysics became an ethics. Leibnitz began with a monadology, and by means of the conception of harmony passed to an optimism.
CHAPTER VI
THE ENLIGHTENMENT" (1690-1781) *
The Emergence of the " New Man," — Individual- ism. In passing to this period we should recall the two objects of interest that distinguish modern from me- diaeval thought : the " new man " of modern Europe ; and the " new universe " — new in its geographical out- lines and in its intellectual materials. We have already found that the two hundred and more years of the Renaissance, the first period of modern thought, was absorbed in exploiting the second of these objects — the "new universe." In fact the "new man" had been so interested in the " new universe " that he had not thought of studying himself. He had systematized the great wealth of his acquisitions and had constructed great systems of science and metaphysics.
This second period of modern thought — the En- lightenment — begins when the " new man " turns away from his intellectual struggles with his environ- ment and attempts to understand his own nature. Thus the more important of the two objects emerges last ; and this turn to self-reflection constitutes the century of the Enlightenment. The Renaissance had been sub- jective and spectacular ; the Enlightenment was sub- jective and tragic. The mental activity of the Renais- sance had been vital, spontaneous, and unconscious, like the awakening from sleep ; that of the Enlightenment
* Read Windelband, Hist, of Phil, pp. 437-440, 447^49, 600-502; Hibben, Phil, of Enlightenment, pp. 3-13,18-20.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT 133
was self-conscious and attitudinizing. The man of the Renaissance had been in love with nature ; the man of the Enlightenment was in love with himself. Like the Greek Sophistic Illumination, which is its parallel in ancient history, the Enlightenment turned away from cosmological and metaphysical problems. On the other hand, the philosophy of the Enlightenment penetrated all departments of life and found expression in practi- cal questions. Erdmann has well expressed the mean- ing of these nine decades of the Enlightenment as " an effort to raise man, so far as he is a rational individual, into a position of supremacy over everything." It was during this period, which we are now about to enter, that Herder brought into currency in Germany the word " humanity." In England the same sentiment was uttered by Pope in 1732 in his Essay on Man: —
" Know then thyself, presume not God to s^an; The proper study of mankind is man."
The Enlightenment marks, therefore, the rise of modern individualism ; and the concerns of the indi- vidual become the important object of consideration. The novelty of the great discoveries and inventions of the Renaissance had lost its lustre. The " new uni- verse " had become old and familiar, but through his accomplishments the " new man " had begun to feel the strength of his liberated powers. For had not the won- derful world of the Renaissance been his own accom- plishment? Had not all its notable constructions been the creations of his powers ? The " struggle of tradi- tions " to revive antiquity and to incorporate the " new universe " upon an old basis ; the " strife of methods " to reorganize the *' new world " upon a new basis — re-
134 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
vealed this great fact : that man has " world wisdom." Man in his supremacy occupies the entire foreground, and interest in the " new universe " fades away. The " new universe " is now seen in the light of one's per- sonal interests. Man is supreme, and to his word there can be no exception. There is constant reference dur- ing this time to the " light of reason " — to a bright in- ner, rational illumination in contrast to the vagaries of mysticism and the obscurities of dogmatism. The wor- ship of genius arises and with it a contempt for the unenlightened. " Thus would I speak, were I Christ," said Bahrdt. No wonder that Goethe described the En- lightenment as an age of self-conceit !
The Practical Presupposition of the Enlightenment — The Independence of the Individual. The " new man " emerged from the Renaissance as the most important object of consideration, and during the Enlightenment there was never the slightest question about his inde- pendence. The individual became the original datum of this period into which we are now entering ; he was considered to be the only thing that is self-intelligible ; he was the starting-point from which all social relation- ships were to be explained. Among the many problems that arose, the independent existence of the individual remained unquestioned. It was the period of " liberty, equality, and fraternity." The problems were about the relations of the individual ; never about the individual himself, for concerning the individual no problem could arise. The individual rejoicing in the exuberance of his own powers, the " monad enjoying himself," domi- nated everything. The monadology of the Renaissance became an atomism in the Enlightenment. The in- dividual was the practical assumption of the period.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT 135
The Metaphysical Presupposition of the Enlighten- ment. There was a metaphysical background to this practical assumption of the individual. This was the Cartesian dualism of mind and matter. Although the eighteenth century despaired of a successful metaphysi- cal construction of the " new universe," and although its attention was riveted on an analysis of human rela- tionships, it must not be supposed that the period was without its metaphysical bias. Such is not the nature of human history ; and if an epoch refuses to discuss metaphysical questions, it is because it assumes some metaphysics as true. The assumption of the independent individual implies the independent existence of matter. The Enlightenment assumed the Cartesian theory as cor- rect. While many were the polemics against metaphysi- cal speculation, the Cartesian dualism was nevertheless in control. Here within is the independent existence of mind ; and it would naturally follow that there without is the equally independent existence of matter. The concep- tion might fade into a ghost-like dualism, as in Berkeley and Hume, but the dualism never entirely vanished. This has since been known as the philosophy of "com- mon sense," and is to-day the easy attitude of those not interested in metaphysical discussions. " Common sense" means the opinion of the majority as to truth. Most people to-day, as then, accept without question some sort of dualism, usually the dualism of mind and body.
The Problems of the Enlightenment. The area of inquiry was thus very much restricted during this pe- riod. Nature lies beyond our ken. God is still more incomprehensible. From the study of nature and God, let us turn to a study of the problems of the inner life.
136 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Yet while the field of study was restricted, the prob- lems within it were multitudinous, and there was an astonishing breadth and universality, a tenacity of everything, a disdainfulness of nothing. Within its own field the Enlightenment sought to systematize and to stand by any idea in spite of all opposition. The im- agination took bold flights and, from the standpoint of the inner individual life, tried to transform its world. Overloaded with ballast, it tried to reconcile the irre- concilable and to overlook the brute facts of existence. The problems arise from an age that is self-opinionated, self-tormenting, and subjective.
The problems of this age may be divided into two classes, — utilitarian and critical, — both having refer- ence to the individual man in his relations. These include the problems of psychology, epistemology, soci- ology, economics, politics, etc. There was, for example, the problem of our knowledge of the external world, of the validity of innate ideas as the basis of knowledge, of the rational basis of religion. Thought was very alert at this time, as is always the case in times of great in- dividualism, and thought could move with great rapid- ity over the wide range of such subjects.
(«) Utilitarian Problems. The Enlightenment was curious about the interests, the happiness, and the many powers of the individual. Empirical psychologists and brilliant ethical scholars appeared. How much can man know, and what are the limits and extent of his know- ledge? The Rationalists of the Kenaissance liad ac- cepted without question the mediaeval teaching that a group of our ideas is innate and therefore God-given. The Middle Ages had been built up on revealed know- ledge. But to the thinkers of the Enlightenment the
THE ENLIGHTENMENT 137
most important ideas — yea, the only ideas of service to us — are those derived from experience. We should be happier if we confined ourselves to the facts of every-day life, and did not try to deal with things be- yond experience. Let us give metaphysical theories to the Churchman. Empirical psychology thus took the place of metaphysics, and became known as philosophy. It was the favorite science of the time, and the basis of ethics and epistemology. Philosophy thus came out of the school, and became a public utility. It was based, to be sure, upon theological preconceptions, but it was to be put to the service of man. It was to be an instru- ment of discovery as well as a means of grace. With this psychological incentive great schools of moralists arose, especially in England : studying morality as based on the intellect, on the feelings, on authority, on the association of ideas.
Emj)irical psychology led to self -inspection, and this is the age when self-inspection was universal. It is the age of the founding of " societies for the observation of man." It is the age of sentimental diary writing. Rousseau wrote his autobiography in France, and it was followed by a flood of autobiographies in Germany. Even memoirs of such scoundrels as Laukhardt were written and read as matters of public interest. Reli- gion, too, took the form of personal experiences and individual conversions ; and the church was more inter- ested in the experiences of the saved than in the dogma of salvation. The Methodist movement arose in Eng- land and spread over the continent and to America. Individual opinions were more important than conven- tions ; friendships than marriage ; societies than cor- porations. The historical was lost to view because the
138 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
personal and particular occupied the foreground. Gib- bon said, " All ideas were equally true in the eyes of the people, equally false in the eyes of the philosophers, equally useful in the eyes of the magistrates."
(&) Questions of Criticism. In the second place, the Enlightenment is a period of criticism and stands in contrast with the constructive Rationalism of the Renaissance. From Locke's invective against innate ideas to Hume's skepticism of the law of cause, from Voltaire's examination of the foundations of religion to Rousseau's polemic against society, the age was one of the criticism of authority. The psychologists, moral- ists, deists, and sociologists were revolutionists — all striking directly or indirectly at absolute political sov- ereignty, against the theoretical dogmatism and the ceremonious morality in which the Renaissance was complacent. The revolution began in the realm of the intellect and spread to political society. It was natural that the beginnings should be made in the apparently harmless theoretical examination of the grounds of knowledge and the principles of morality ; but the out- come was a general sweep of historical criticism, in which authority and science, the church, the state, and education came under censure. The spirit of man was im- patient. Man became indifferent to " learning." In con- trast with the Renaissance, this was a time when books were little read, proper names infrequently appeared ir writings, authorities were little cited. Let man study himself if he would learn about history and understand the world. Man stands above the scholar, the Chris- tian, the German. He is independent of tradition, and should substitute the useful for the historical. Cosmo- politanism takes the place of patriotism. The Enlight-
THE ENLIGHTENMENT 139
enment is practical and yet imaginative. Its criticism aims to strip man of all his artificialities and to find his natural state. Its emphasis is negative and destructive.
The revolt of the Enlightenment against the past ap- peared in remarkable changes in the political map of Europe. Mediaeval Europe was breaking to pieces. The Renaissance had been a period of social absolutism in which the despotic powers of Macchiavelli and Riche- lieu were typical of its political life. In this period new-comers forced their way into politics and the En- lightenment was marked by the rise of Russia, Prussia, and the American colonies. France and Austria, repre- senting the past, were arrayed against England and Prussia, representing the future of Europe. The con- flict between them was that of the old idea of military despotism, non-commerce, and non-toleration against the new spirit of individual freedom. From the Peace of Westphalia (1648) to the Seven Years' War (1756- 1763) occurred many conflicts which presaged the break- ing down of the old boundaries. The old regime received its death-blow at the hands of Frederick the Great in the Seven Years' War ; and a half-century later (1806) the Holy Roman Empire came to an end.
In all countries there were vigorous political move- ments in support of the rights of the individual. In England the House of Commons began to rise to power and the colonies in America to assert their independ- ence. In France the Bourbon family was fast losing its grip, to be completely overthrown in the French Revolution (1789). The current was entirely in the same direction in Germany. This was the time of Adam Smith and the rise of economic theories. It is a matter of no little significance that this period from the point
140 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of view of philosophy begins with Locke's psychologi- cal £Jssay and ends with Kant's Critique ; and from the point of view of politics it begins with the Revolu- tion of 1688 in England, and ends with a revolution in France and another in the American colonies.
A Comparison of the Enlightenment in England, France, and Germany. The individualism of the En- lightenment expressed itself as a rationalism in Ger- many, as a sensationalism and deism in France, and as a deism and an empiricism in England. Nevertheless all its phases may be found in each one of these coun- tries. The outcome of the movement in the three coun- tries is, however, very different. In England the En- lightenment passed into a philosophical reaction in the so-called Scottish School ; in France, it resulted in a political revolution ; in Germany, it merged with a great literary movement and resulted in a creative idealism.
The Many Groups of Philosophers of the Enlighten- ment. A comparison of the lists of philosophers of this with those of other periods reveals an extraordinary number of names. The Renaissance, for example, shows about half as many names of consequence, although it is about twice as long. The Enlightenment teems with philosophers, for its secular life was permeated with the reflective spirit. The philosophers are also often notable men, whose names are familiar to the modern reader. Nevertheless the number of constructive phi- losophers was exceedingly few. Only Locke, Berkeley, and Hume can be found whose importance equals that of Bacon, Hobbes, Galileo, Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibnitz. In personal talents and importance to their age the others seem to go in groups or to be part of
THE ENLIGHTENMENT 141
the secular spirit. On the whole the history of the Enlightenment is that of social movements, and the philosophers seem to be the exponents of such move- ments.
Some of these important groups are as follows : —
In England.
1. Associationallst Psychologists : Peter Brown (d. 1735), Hartley (1704-1757), Search (1705-1774), Priestley (1733-1804), Tooke (1736-1812), Erasmus Darwin (1731-1802), Thomas Brown (1778-1820).
2. Moral Philosophers : Shaftesbury (1671-1713) ; morality based on intellect, Samuel Clarke (1675- 1729) ; Wollaston (1659-1724) ; morality based on feeling, Hutcheson (1694-1747) ; Home (1696- 1782); Burke (1730-1797); Ferguson (1724-1816) ; Adam Smith (1723-1790) ; morality based on author- ity, Butler (1692-1752) ; Paley (1743-1805) ; ethics based on associational psychology, Bentham (1748- 1832) ; in an isolated ethical position, Mandeville (1670-1733) ; the Platonist, Price (1723-1791).
3. The Deists: Toland (1670-1722), CoUins (1676-1729), Tindal (1656-1733), Chubb (1679- 1747), Morgan (d. 1743), Bolingbroke (1678-1751).
4. The Scottish School of Philosoj)hy : Thomas Reid (1710-1796), Oswald (d. 1793), Beattie (d. 1805), Dugald Stewart (1753-1828).
In France.
1. Skeptics : Bayle (1647-1706), Voltaire (1694- 1778), Maupertuis (1698-1759), d'Alembert (1717- 1783), BufPon (1707-1788), Robinet (1735-1820).
2. The Sensualists : La Mettrie (1709-1751), Bon- net (1720-1793), CondiUac (1715-1780), Cabanis (1757-1808).
142 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
3. The Encyclopedists : Diderot (1713-1784), Vol- taire, d'Alembert, Rousseau (1712-1778), Turgot, Jau- court, Duclos, Grimm (1723-1807), Holbach (1723- 1789), Helvetius (1715-1771).
4. The Political Economists and Constitutional- ists: Montesquieu (1689-1755), Quesnay, Turgot, Morelly, Mably.
5. The Sentimentalist: Rousseau (1712-1778), the most notable figure of France during the Enlighten- ment.
6. Philosophical Revolutionists : St. Lambert (1716-1803), Volney (1757-1820), Condorcet (1743- 1794), Garat (1749-1833).
In Germany. *
1. Thomasiiis (1655-1728), the first of the En- lightenment.
2. The Wolffians: Wolif (1679-1754), Bilfinger, Knutzen (d. 1751), Gottsched (1700-1766), Baum- garten (1714-1762).
3. The Geometrical Method and its Opponents : Hansch, Ploucquet, Crousaz, Riidiger (1671-1731), Crusius (1712-1775), Budde, Brucker, Tiedemann, Lossius, Platner.
4. The Psychologists and Related Philosophers : Kruger, Hentsch, Weiss, Irwing, Moritz (1757-1793), Basedow (1723-1790), Pestalozzi, and Sulzer.
5. The Independent Philosophers: Lambert (1728- 1777), Tetens (1736-1805).
6. The Deists : Schmidt, Semler (1725-1791), Rei- marus (1699-1768), Edelmann.
7. TJie Pietists: Spener (1635-1705), Francke (1663-1727), Arnold, Dippel.
8. The Popular Philosophers : Mendelssohn (1729-
THE ENLIGHTENMENT
143
1786), Nicolai (1733-1811), Basedow, Abbt, Engel, Feder, Meiners, Garve.
9. The Writer on Philosophical Religion : Lessing (1729-1781).
10. The Writer on Faith Philosophy : Herder (1744-1803).
The philosophers of greatest importance in this pe- riod are given below. To help the reader keep in mind contemporary philosophical influences other names are given with them in a parallel table.
Bacon 1561
Hobbes 1588
Descartes 1596
1626
1650 1677 1679
Spinoza 1632
Newton 1642
Leibnitz 1646
Locke 1632
Wolff
1679 Berkeley
Voltaire 1685
1694
1704
1716
1727
Hume
1711Kousseau 1712
Lessing 1729
1753
1754
1776
1778
1778
1781
CHAPTER VII
JOHN LOCKE
The Enlightenment in Great Britain. The history of the philosophy of Great Britain includes the teachings of Locke, Berkeley, Hume, and the Scottish School. With the exception of the teachings of the reactionary Scottish School, all the important philosophical teach- ings appear in the first half of the eighteenth century. We need to understand, first, the philosophical position of Locke, who was the father of the Enlightenment. We shall then see how his doctrine developed in three differ- ent directions: (1) as Deism, — a rational Christianity, (2) as an associational psychology in ethics, (3) as a theory of knowledge in the philosophies of Berkeley and Hume.
Our discussion of the philosophy of Bacon and Hobbes has been followed by that of Rationalism. It would, however, be a mistake for the reader to infer, as we are about to take up the study of Locke, that a long period of time intervened between Hobbes and Locke. A chronological comparison of their lives shows that they were contemporaries for forty-seven years. Both lived through the reign of Charles I, during the Commonwealth and the Restoration. Hobbes died eleven years before Locke published his only philosophical essay. We must remember, too, that the English empirical philosophers of the Enlightenment were not insulated from the Ra- tionalists of the Continent. On the contrary, there was a lively interchange of ideas. Descartes influenced Hobbes
146 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
and Hobbes influenced Spinoza. The influence of Des- cartes upon Locke was not inconsiderable, and Leibniz felt the influence of Locke. Berkeley and Leibnitz ar- rived at idealistic conclusions from independent points of view. Bacon alone seems to stand apart both from his contemporaries and from his immediate followers.
The English Enlightenment was the natural develop- ment of the English Renaissance. Locke was the suc- cessor of Bacon and Hobbes. On the other hand, the English Enlightenment is similar to what went on in France and Germany. The first half of the English Enlightenment — from 1690 to 1750 — was absorbed in philosophical discussions ; during the second half, the period abandoned philosophy, and was engaged entirely in politics. The classes that won in the Revolution of 1688 had little trouble in maintaining their place of power. The peaceful coming of William and Mary gave well-ordered conditions for intellectual development and for a powerful literary movement. The Jacobites were crushed, and there ensued a period of political peace. In the latter half of the century, however, another set of topics came to the front. After 1750 politics super- seded philosophy ; and whereas the keenest English minds had been employed upon the theoretical " study of mankind" in literature and philosophy, they now be- came engaged in practical political questions. Political parties developed. The Court was arrayed against the families of the Revolution, the American trouble, and the Wilkite agitations were looming large. England was sucked into the political maelstrom that was involving all Europe. Instead of deistic controversies with the theological orthodoxy, dangerous political questions were appearing. Instead of Hume's Essay and Butler's Ana-
JOHN LOCKE 147
logy we have Burke's speeches, Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations^ Junius's Letters, and political pamphlets. In the first half of the period Bolingbroke had left poli- tics for philosophy ; in the second half Priestley left his laboratory for politics. The great change in English in- tellectual interests is shown in Hume himseK. In 1752 he turned from philosophy, because there was so little interest in the subject, to the writing of his history of England. Theology was paralyzed ; deism was no longer ridiculed ; orthodoxy slumbered in its victory. The only philosophic tones came from France, where Voltaire, the Encyclopaedists, and Rousseau were carrying out a move- ment that had its origin in England ; and, on the other hand, from Scotland and its reactionary school. But the political movement always remained political in England, because its institutions were not inflexible and because the English people are by nature constitutional. In England there has never been a revolution, in the true sense, but England's progress has always been con- trolled by tradition. Even the revolution in the English colonies in America was caused by an abridgment of con- stitutional rights, and not by political theory, although the formal Declaration of Independence was framed under the influence of French philosophers.
John Locke, Life and Writings (1632-1704).* The life of Locke falls into four periods.
1. Student Life (1632-1666). Locke passed his first fourteen years at home, which were the troublesome years of the Civil War. The next six years were spent at the Westminster School in London. The last four-
* Read Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 215- 217, 248-262 ; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 380- 388.
148 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
teen years of this period were spent, first as student and then as lecturer in Oxford. He took his Oxford degrees in 1660, the year of the Restoration and the year in which the British Royal Society was founded at Oxford. His dislike for the classics, which was begun at the West- minster School, was confirmed by his Oxford studies. Consequently, during the years of his perfunctory lec- turing at Oxford (1660-1666), his main interest was in physics. He was engaged in chemical, meteorological, and especially medical observations. He was also en- gaged in an amateur medical practice, in partnership with an old physician.
The first turning point in his life came in 1666, when he was called to attend the first Lord Shaf ter>bury, who had fallen ill at Oxford. This accidental meeting was the beginning of a lasting friendship with the Shaftes- bury family, sustained by their common love for polit- ical, religious, and intellectual liberty. The first Lord Shaftesbury was the most notable statesman in the reign of Charles II ; the third Lord Shaftesbury was the greatest of English ethical scholars. Locke was the trusted friend and beneficiary of the first Lord Shaftes- bury, the tutor of the second, and influenced, more than any one else, the ethical productions of the third. Locke wrote some notes in this period on the Roman Common- wealth, an essay on toleration, and made records of physical observations.
2. As Politician (1666-1683). During these seventeen years Locke's outward fortunes were inti- mately connected with the political career of Shaftesbury. He held public office. He was made a member of the Royal Society in 1668. The winter of 1670-1671 was important for his intellectual fortunes and marks another
JOHN LOCKE 149
turning point in his life. It was then that he started the inquiry that led to his famous Essay. ^ The Essay was in the process of development during the next nine- teen years. He passed four years in retirement and in study in France (1675-1679). He also at this time first conceived his Essays on Government. Shaftesbury fled to Holland in November, 1682, and Locke a few months later followed him.
3. As Philosophical Author (1Q8S-1691}. The year 1689 divides this period into two important parts. The first part (1683-1689) is not only the period of his exile in Holland, but it is the time in which he is composing and completing his three most important literary works, — Essay on the Human Understanding^ the two Treatises on Government, the three Epistles on Tolerance. During the second part (1689-1691) he published these, which was the time immediately follow- ing his return to England. Newton's Principia was published in 1687, and Locke's Essay in 1690 — the one the foundation of modern physical science, the other the beginning of modern psychology. The appearance of these two works together with the Revolution in 1688 makes this point of time an important one in the history of the world.
4. As Controversialist (1691-1704). Locke then began to write upon almost every conceivable subject, — the coining of silver money, the raising of the value of money, the culture of olives, etc. He was also very busy in defending his philosophy against attacks. For him, until 1700 the period was one of controversy. At that time he retired from all activity, and after four years of failing health died in 1704. His period of produc-
* See Essay, introductory epistle to the reader.
150 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
tion was confined to the eleven years between 1689 and 1700.
The Sources of Locke's Thought. 1. His Puritan Ancestry. The ancestry of Locke is little known, and not much that appears in his personality can be ex- plained by it. Both his father and mother were Puri- tans, and he seems to have inherited the severe piety, prudent, self-reliant industry, and love of liberty, that were common in English Puritan families of the middle class in the seventeenth century. During the first four- teen years he was schooled by his parents.
2. His Training in Tolerance. If Locke inherited in the least degree any temper of intolerance from his Puritan ancestry it entirely disappeared with his expe- riences before and during his life at the University of Oxford. In 1646, at the Westminster School, his mind revolted at the cruel intolerance on both sides in the events just succeeding the Civil War. He also rebelled at the stern scholastic training which he received. These negative influences were supplemented by positive in- centives to freedom and toleration during his university life. John Owen was the liberal Vice-Chancellor of Oxford at that time, and the university granted freedom of thought to all Protestants. Locke felt Owen's influ- ence throughout his whole life. The fact that Locke's intimate friend at Oxford was Professor Pococke, the most outspoken Royalist in the university, shows that whatever Puritanism there was in Locke's nature had been ameliorated. Tolerance and liberty of opinion be- came now the key-note in the life of John Locke. " A gentle disposition, great love for his friends, an honest seeking after truth, and a firm faith in the importance of personal and political freedom are the ti'aits most
JOHN LOCKE 151
remarkable in Locke as we know him from his books and letters." His toleration was not of the same sort as that of his contemporary Leibnitz. Leibnitz sought to reconcile discordant elements by combining them into a new dogmatic theory ; Locke neglected disagreements, sought no perfect harmony, but pointed out a via media that any individual might take. Leibnitz set forth a metaphysical system ; Locke gave a practical method. He had great directness, and was a man of honesty of thought. Not being a partisan he had no side to defend ; and he was not a partisan because philosophy was not his trade. Philosophy was to Locke the accomplishment of a gentleman who was interested in the puzzles of life. His diction is for ordinary people ; it is simple and ex- pressed in short Anglo-Saxon words. He shows no logic of thought ; and while any sentence is admirable, the par- agraph and the page are dull. His Essay is a chaos of plain truths, only here and there illuminated by imagin- ation. He shows no poetic power, and the world in which he lived never fired his imagination. He studied the human mind as he would read the thermometer. To our fathers his Essay was a philosophical Bible. To us the Essay stands, not like a completely planned building, but like an enlarged cottage, very habitable, but making no single impression.
3. Tlie Scientific Influence. As a fellow-country- man of Ockam and the two Bacons, Locke shows the same anti-mystical and positivist tendencies. He was a thorough Englishman in taste and temperament. When the " new philosophy " v/as finding its way into the Oxford circle, he was one of the first to welcome it. It came to the University through books ; the lecturers were still true to Aristotle. Descartes, Hobbes, and
152 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Bacon were widely read, as was also Gassendi's exposi- tion of Epicurus. Locke himself writes concerning the influence of Descartes upon him. He gave up all thought of becoming a clergyman ; and his personal friendship for Bayle, a famous chemist, and for Syden- ham, a no less famous physician, interested him in the empirical method as they applied it to chemistry and therapeutics. He owed his philosophical awakening to Descartes and the Port Royal logic. The lucidity of Descartes came to him as an inspiration of intellectual liberty ; although he afterwards used the principles that Descartes had taught him to controvert his teacher's doctrine.
During the first period of Locke's life (1632-1666) he was nothing more than a student of medicine and a meteorological observer. He was the retired scholar who led so placid a life that it portended nothing note- worthy. He was a creditable scholar and teacher, but his life was negative in character. He had passed through stirring times, and they did not stir him.
4. The Political Infiuence. Locke's interest in poli- tics began when he was thirty-four years old — when he met Lord Ashley at Oxford. For fifteen years he shared the home and fortune of this most remarkable man of affairs in the reign of Charles II. This Lord Ashley (Earl of Shaftesbury) fled to Holland in 1682, and died there the next year. After the death of his patron Locke left England for exile in Holland until 1689, when he returned to England with WiUiam and Mary. In Holland he found a brilliant company, exiled from all countries ; and he formed an intimate friend- ship with Limborch, the leader of liberal theology in Holland. Some of the time he lived with a Quaker.
JOHN LOCKE 153
Locke's friendship with Shaftesbury and his residence in Holland confirmed him in his belief in political lib- erty. So when William entered England and needed literary justification for the Revolution, he got it in Locke's two Treatises on Government. Locke thus be- came the philosophical defender and intellectual repre- sentative of the Revolution that now after fifty years had reached its culmination.
Summary. On the whole, the inherited Puritanism of Locke was easily modified not only by his own mod- erate disposition, but also by his scientific interests and by his large political experiences. He naturally grew to be the apostle of the via media between traditional- ism and empiricism. He published practically nothing before he was sixty years old. After his return from exile his principal works appeared in swift succession. Two accidents formed turning-points in his life. His accidental meeting with Shaftesbury in 1666 turned him to politics ; and secondly, at an informal meeting of friends in the winter of 1670—1671 the question about the nature of sensations was accidentally raised, out of which gre\y his great Essay. His life was pri- marily one of affairs and of large acquaintance with men and things. To him life was the first thing, his interest in politics came second, and his philosophy third. That his ideas should have been the basis of extreme phi- losophical and political beliefs on the Continent is na- tural enough when one remembers the perils of misin- terpretation to the man who preaches the doctrine of the via media.
The Purpose of Locke. In the historical perspective of two centuries we to-day see Locke in his Essay on the Human Understanding delivering the inaugural
154 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
address of the eighteenth century. He is making the first formal declaration of the intellectual rights of the individual in a lengthy, dry, and erudite psychological dissertation. Of course he never knew^ the historical importance of his own work. It grew out of the need of the hour. He would have been astonished to find himself the spokesman of the century of French Ency- clopaedists, materialists, and revolutionists, of English deists, of German lUuminati, of Hume, and of Voltaii-e. He had in mind to answer the restrictions of the liicrh churchman on the one hand, and the arrogant claims of the atheists on the other, as to the power of the hu- man intellect. He states that his design is to "inquire into the original certainty and extent of human know- ledge." In this declaration Locke foreshadows Kant, but he falls short of the insight of Kant. For Locke speaks for the spirit of the eighteenth and not the nineteenth century, and (1) he must keep within the range of concrete facts ; (2) he must state only what can be stated clearly ; and (3) he must be practical. It was, however, in its larger meaning a declaration of human freedom. Locke shows what limitations the hu- man intellect has, what it can and what it cannot know. When the Enlightenment got momentum, it forgot the limitations to knowledge that the sober Locke had set down, and read in his words only a declaration of license. The Essay differs from any previous modern philoso- phical writing. Man and not the universe is the sub- ject. For the first time we find an examination of the laws of mind, and not of the laws of the universe.
But it is the via media for which Locke stands, and not the lawless excesses of the eighteenth century. The human reason is not all-knowing — cannot solve all
JOHN LOCKE 155
problems, is not endowed with divine ideas; on the other hand, the human reason is not merely a string of sensations. The human reason is just this : it is liumon. It stands midway between divine intuition and animal sensation. Man is free, but free under his own limita- tions. " If by this inquiry it may be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man to be more cautious in med- dling with things beyond its comprehension — we should then not be so forward, out of affection for universal knowledge, to perplex ourselves and others with dis- putes about things, to which our understandings are not suited and of which we have not any notions at all." Human freedom stands between the absolute freedom of God and the absolute necessity of the animal. Hu- man freedom lies w^ithin the limits and bounds of human ideas — the via media ; and analysis of those ideas will show what those limits and bounds are. There can be no knowledge without ideas._ Some ideas may be erro- neous and out of all relation to reality. On the other hand, there may be ideas to which no experiences fit. Intellectual freedom consists in having not isolated ideas, but ideas in their relations, tliat ^Jn the form of judgments. Locke was moved in making his analysis of ideas by a general moral purpose to correct the faults and fallacies in mankind and in himself. " Man's facul- ties were given him to procure the happiness which this world is capable of," says Locke, and it might have been Bacon who had said it. The search for the via media is justified by its practical and utilitarian ends. The via media is the way of freedom.
Two Sides of Locke's Philosophy. The search for the via media is an attempt to find " the limits and extent of human knowledge." This involved Locke in a
156 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
discrimination as to what should be accepted and what rejected of the past. It gives his philosophy a positive and a negative aspect. In brief, on its negative side he makes a show of rejecting the entire past by rejecting aU innate ideas, but really he inconsistently accepted from the past its conception of substance and of indi- viduality. On its positive side he builds up from expe- rience a theory of knowledge which he divides into intuitive, demonstrative^ and probable. That is to say, while Locke affirms that all our knowledge must be derived from experience, it never occurs to him to doubt the trad^itional Cartesian tbftnry nf the existejio.ft of God, man, and matter.
(a) The Negative Side — Locke and Scholasticism. Locke issued an avowed defiance to scholasticism in the introduction of his Essay. Of the four books into which the Essay is divided, the first was composed last and added as an introductory declaration of independ- ence. If it had been the only part ever written, the anarchism of the eighteenth century would have been right in finding its justification in the Essay. To a modern mind this first book looks harmless enough, but in Locke's time it had a deep sociological and political meaning. It expresses his practical moral defiance of traditional mediaevalism. " There exist no innate ideas," says Locke. Innate ideas mean to him the tyranny of tradition — unexamined and unsubstantiated beliefs, conceptions unverified by fact. They stand for church dogma imposed upon the unthinking masses, the abso- lutism of monarchy an^^ft HiviTift rfaTif. nf Irinjrg the inherited superstitions about nature. Spinoza had de^ duced his entire philosophy from the innate idea of sub- > stance ; Descartes had found at least three innate ideas ; \
JOHN LOCKE 157
I Leibnitz believed all ideas innate. Locke pleads for the personal right to examine all ideas. Locke's critics have claimed that no philosopher ever maintained the existence of innate ideas in the sense in which Locke attacked them. Locke was aiming at something more vulnerable than innate ideas themselves — he was at- tacking the medisBval habit of the individual who takes a thing as true because the thing has the weight of tra- ditional authority.
(6) The Positive Side — The New Psychology and Epistemology. If inherited ideas have no weight for Locke, he was bound to show the kind of ideas upon which we can rely. Tlie mind enters upon life with no stock of ideas in trade ; how do they arise ? The logical outcome of Locke's disclaimer of scholastic psychology obliged him to construct a new psychology and theory of knowledge. He must offer a psychology as a con- structive programme for the individualism of the En- lightenment. In his second book Locke states the posi- tive side of his doctrine by saying that the mind is like a white paper without any original markings ; that it gets its markings from the impressions made upon it. Thus to deny innate ideas and to affirm that all ideas are empirically aroused, are the negative and positive sides of the same doctrine of individualism. They are two ways of saying that the mind of the individual is free to judge for itseK of the truth or falseness of its experiences.
In his denial of the existence of innate ideas, in his use of the formula that " nothing is in the intellect that has not been first in the sense," or in his employment of the figure of the " white piece of paper," Locke does not intend to state anything further than that the mind
158 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
is free. He merely means that the individual starts without trammels and prejudices. He does not mean that the mind is completely passive and at the mercy of its environment, as his French followers interpreted him. Locke is a sensationalist, but he does not belong to that class who believe that our mental states are merely translated sensations, and that the mind itself is merely passive. He believes that the mind does not create its ideas^^but that they are presented to it. The mind has original powers upon which it can reflect. The mind can operate with its ideas and make them into compounds. Thus one must read Locke's Essay to the end to get his double point of view. In the sec- ond and third books he frequently discusses the con- tents of the mind as if the mind were passive, in the manner of modern psychologists. In the fourth book he develops an epistemology on the assumption that the mind is active and free.
Locke's Psychology. The second and third books of the Essay are a discussion of the empirical sources of our ideas. One notes the Cartesian dualism of mind and matter in the background. All ideas have their source either externally in the . impressions upon the bodily senses, or internally in the operations oi the mind itself. The sources of ideas are either senjatir>ns or reflections, or, as Locke calls them, " outer and inner perceptions." Locke also calls them " simple ideas," being the units out of which the complex ideas are con- structed. We understand easily enough what Locke means by sensations, but " reflections " is a word pecu- liar to him, which has not been taken up by philosophy. He means by " reflections " a consciousness of the ma- chinery of the mind. We are, that is to say, conscious
JOHN LOCKE 159
of our willing, loving, remembering, etc. As to the order of their appearance in the mind, the sensations are prior to the reflections and are the occasion for the appearance of the reflections. The reflections are not the process of transmitting the sensations, but they are the laterand mechanical transmutation of the sensations. It is important to note that throughout Locke's psy- chological analysis, he regards_the mind as passive, even with respect to the ideas of -reflection. The reflections, as faculties of the mind, are dependent on the sensa- tions, and both sensations and reflections make impres- sions upon a passive mind.
These " simple " ideas come into the crucible of the mind and form "complex" ideas of various sorts. There are three general classes of these complex ideas : sub- stances^ modes, and relations. The construction of "com- plex ideas " out of " simple ideas " and the objects to which the complex ideas refer receive a great variety of illustration at Locke's hands, but the details of his lengthy discussion need not detain us. He is very pains- taking ; he shows hard common sense ; but he is defi- cient in logical classification and he often betrays much indecision. His Essay is of encyclopajdic character in its derivation of all common notions from " simple ideas." The laws of association form the chemistry by which he welds the " simple ideas " together.
Thus far Locke is empirical and consistent. How- ever, the dualistic background of the thought of his age makes him deviate from his avowed empiricism. Be- sides the clear and simple ideas of sensation and reflec- tion Locke introduces the idea of the Self. What is the idea of Self? It is not a sensation nor a reflection. It is not a complex idea, derived from sensations and re-
160 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
flections. "It is an internal, infallible perception that we are." It is an accompaniment of tEe processes of thought. It stands beside the ideas, which are empiri- cally derivgd. as an unexplained remainder. The result of Locke's psychological analysis is therefore that the inner world of the mind consists of the combination of the simple ideas of sensation and reflection plus the unexplained idea of the Self.
Locke's Theory of Knowledge. Although Locke says that the purpose of his Essay is to show the limits and extent of human knowledge, he does not reach this un- til the last book. The first three books form a long in- troduction to the fourth book and his real theme. Here for the first time he treats the mind as active ; and here for the first time in the history of thought the attempt is made to show what questions man can answer with certainty, what with probability, and what are beyond man's knowledge.
All the difficulties in the assumptions of the En- lightenment come out in Locke's treatment of his main theme. Locke defines knowledge as the " perception of the ati^eement or disagreement of our ideas," and yet he says that knowledge is real only as ideas agree with things. That is to say, Locke had assumed (in Book II of the Essay^ the existence of the material substance of things of the outer world, just as he assumed the ex- istence of the spiritual Self-substance of the inner world. What is the nature of the outer material substance? Locke hesitates, and the best he can answer is, " It is the unknown support and cause of the union of several distinct, simple ideas." Substance, to Locke, is a word for something unknown. But does the mind know no- thing about substance ? What information do our ideas
JOHN LOCKE 161
convey to us of substance ? We have this knowledge : we know theprimary or constant, unchangeable qualities of substances, and the secondary or variable qualities of substances. The primary qualities of bodies are the same as their effects in us, such as the extension of bodies, their solidity, movement and rest, duration and position in time. The secondary " are nothing in the objects themselves but powers to produce various sen- a sations in us by their primary qualities." Secondary qualities are sounds, colors, etc. In this confused state- ment it would seem that substance stands as merely the nominal support of the primary qualities, and the pri- mary qualities are the cause of the secondary qualities. Thus the individual stands forth free in the develop- ment of his ideas, but he is an individual circumscribed by his dualistic world. He belongs to the world of an unexplained spiritual substance on the one hand, and he is surrounded by a world of an unknown material substance on the other. There are three kinds of know- ledge ; intuitive, demonstrative^ and probable. Locke says that the individual is intuitively certain of his own ideaSj. The individual has also demonstrative knowledge — he can reason logically and mathematically. But Locke's real problem does not lie with intuitive and de- monstrative knowledge. The question that concerned him was rather. What is the character of our knowledge of the external world ? The individual in the Enlighten- ment lived in a spiritual independence of matter, yet he had a feeling of uncertainty about his hold upon a world of matter so different from himself. It was a world foreign to his spiritual essence. With the deep- ening of the mind within itself and with its growing independence, the equally independent material world
,Xa
162 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
grew more difficult and distant. Locke feels this diffi. culty. How can man know this external world ? How can the individual, with all his freedom, bring the ex- ternal world under his control ?
Besides the certainty of intuitive and demonstrative knowledge, there is a third kind according to Locke. This is the jjj^obable knowledge of the nature world. We are certain of our sensations, but we are not cer- tain of what our sensations report. The highest degree which our knowledge of the external world can attain is prob^ility. or an inference from many sources. Such knowledge is mere opinion, which supplements certain knowledge and operates in the large field of our daily existence. The spiritual individual stands in a kind of twilight region with the dull wall of the material world of probable existence looming up before him, the out- lines of which he can barely discern. On either side of this twilight existence lies the broad daylight of intui- tive and demonstrative knowledge, and around it all the absolute darkness of ignorance. Our knowledge is much less than our ignorance because our knowledge is lim- ited to our ideas and their combinations.
Locke's Practical Philosophy. Locke pursued the via media in his discussion of the practical problems that were at that time of burning importance in Eng- lish society. He always kept in mind the spiritual man who is circumscribed by his own limitations. Morally, religiously, and politically the individual has to conform to the conditions in which he lives. But morality, reli- gion, and government cannot get their authority from ideas inborn in the mind. All are the outgrowths of ex- perience. The moral law^ for example, is a law of nature, although at the same time it is a law of God. It arises
\
JOHN LOCKE 163
from experience, and at the same time it has its root in God. To obey it is to be happy, to disobey it is to be unhappy. The revelation of religion, too, may transcend experience, but it must not contradict experience. In both religion and morality the individual must be the final judge, for he is the arbiter of his own happiness. Individual happiness is of more value than all else. Re- ligious toleration is therefore one of the first principles of government, and between the church and the state there should be no conflict.
Locke's political philosophy is along the same via media. In his Treatises on Government he seeks to make good the title of King William to the British throne. He justifies the right of the individual to re- volt jinder certain conditions. Political government is not a sacred innate idea, but has arisen out of experi- ence as conducive to the happiness of man. The indi- viduals and the government make a contract to serve each other. When either violates the contract, the State is at an end. To the advocates of the divine rights of kings, like Filmer, political law antedated " nature " ; to Hobbes, law came after " nature " ; to Locke, law is " nature." To Filmer " nature " was a golden age ; to Hobbes it was a shocking state to be got rid of ; to Locke " nature " is harmony. Thus ac- cording to Locke the individual has through his expe- riences constructed his morality, his religion, and his government because they are conducive to his happi- ness, and at the same time they have their ground in the " nature " of things. The individual stands free among them, the central figure in the world.
The Influence of Locke. The philosophy of Locke became the fountain-head of the many divergent schools
164 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of thought of the Enlightenment. His Essay did not contain anything fundamentally new, and its present- ation has little originality ; but it voiced the thought of the eighteenth century so easily, and with such skillfid avoidance of pitfalls, that it made Locke the most widely read and the most influential philosopher of his time. Four separate movements had their source in him : (1) From his theory of knowledge, in which the empha- sis is laid upon the mind as actiye,_came_ihg_empicical idealism of^Berkeley_a3ad Hume ; (2) from his psycho- logical analysis in the second and third books of the Essay, in which the mind is regarded as passive, came the sensationalism of the French ; (3) fromhis theory of religion came Deisni ; (4) from his association al- istic ethics came the utilitarian ethical theories of the English moralists. The most constructive followers of Locke were Berkeley and Himie. The others may be called the lesser Lockian schools ; for although they may have exercised a much greater influence upon their own time, they were nevertheless only partial inter- preters of Locke. We shall deal briefly with Deism and Ethics in England, next consider at length the philosophies of Berkeley and Hume, and then present in a summary but articulate way the development of the Enlightenment in France and Germany.
The English Deists. We have seen how Rationalism, especially in the case of Descartes, tried at the begin- ning to reconstruct theology without breaking with es- tablished dogma. Gradually, however, rationalism and revealed religion showed signs of divorce. Some of the rationalists came to take the stand that if reason can understand the nature of God, revelation is either in- credible or superfluous. The revealed religions differ.
JOHN LOCKE 165
The god of the mediaeval people is not the same as the god of the heathen nor as the Jehovah of the Jews. There are many religions and many sects in each reli- gion. There must be to them all a common basis, which is the true religion. This was the creed of Deism or Natural Religion. Positive religions are only the cor- ruptions of natural religion, or the religion of reason. Deism sought to separate religion from special revela- tions, which were looked upon as the irrational elements of religion. Bacon and Descartes had freed natural science from church dogma ; Hobbes had freed psycho- logy from the same dogma ; Grotius had freed the con- ception of law from dogma. The Deists would free religion from dogma.
Deism was founded on three principles ; (1) the origin and truth of religion may be scientifically investigated ; (2) the origin of religion is the conscience ; (3) positive religions are degenerate forms of natural religion. The tendency of the Enlightenment was deistical, and the movement was powerful in England, France, and Ger- many. Deism was quite consistent with the central principle of this period — the self-sufficiency of the in- dividual.
In England the first deist was Herbert of Cherbury (1581-1648), with his "five fundamental propositions of religion." The body of English deists, however, got their cue from Locke's identification of the moral law with the law of nature ; but Locke himself was not a deist. The literature of deism coincides for the most part with the English moral philosophy of the period, but usually the group of English deists is supposed to include only Toland, Chubb, Tindal, Collins, Morgan, and Boling- broke. These men lived in the first half of the Enlight-
166 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
enment. They were much despised by the scholars of the time as being mere dabblers in letters. " They were but a ragged regiment whose whole ammunition of learn- ing was a trifle when compared with the abundant stores of a single light of orthodoxy ; whilst in specula- tive ability they were children by the side of their an- tagonists."*
The English deists passed from view at the end of the first half of the eighteenth century, crushed by the weight of the attack upon them. The more powerful orthodoxy, with its greater talent, was itself rationalistic, and could beat them on their own ground. The church- men showed that the objections against the God of revelation would be equally effective against the deistic God of nature. The classic argument along this line against the deists is Bishop Butler's Analogy of Re- lic/ion. The battle was unequal, and the character of the books published during the controversy reveals the inequality of the contest. The deistic publications were small and shabby octavos, and were published anony- mously. The orthodox publications were solid octavos and quartos in handsome bindings, with the credentials of powerful signatures. Even if the orthodoxy had not employed the arm of the law against the deists, the deists would have been broken by the intellectual force against them.
The English Moralists. Just as the motive of the deists was to free religion from the authority of theo- logy, so the motive of the celebrated group of English moralists of the Enlightenment was to find a basis for morality outside of church dogma. Many of the English
* Read Leslie Stephen, History of English Thought^ vol. i, pp. 86-88.
JOHN LOCKE 167
moralists were also deists in belief. Their number is legion, as the list given below will show. The greatest among them was Shaftesbury.
The school began with Hobbes and received mo- mentum from the associational psychology of Locke. All the members of this group sought to find an ulti- mate basis for morality — some seeking it with Locke in experience, others in innate ideas. Yet the starting- point with each of these moralists seems to be Hobbes and his selfish ethics, for nearly all ethical scholars have his ethics in mind, either to attack or to defend. For many years Hobbes was regarded by ethical schol- ars either as an evil spirit or as an inspired genius. In any case, his influence was felt in ethical discussion for a long time.
168 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Chronological Table of the English Moralists.
1500 1600 |
1700 |
1800 |
||||||
TTnlihp«j «« 7Q . |
||||||||
XJ.UUUCS .••••••• Cud worth Locke Cumberland. . . Wollaston Mandeville .... |
1 7 88 |
|||||||
32 |
04 |
|||||||
32 . |
18 |
|||||||
nQ 94. |
||||||||
.70 |
33 |
|||||||
Shaftesbury . . . |
. 71 13 |
|||||||
Clarke |
.75 |
29 |
||||||
Berkeley |
.85 |
53 |
||||||
Pope |
.88 |
44 |
•• |
|||||
Butler |
.92 |
52 |
||||||
Hutcheson .... |
.94 |
47 |
||||||
Edwards |
03 |
58 |
||||||
Hartley . |
05 |
57 |
||||||
Tucker |
05 |
74 ... |
||||||
Reid |
10 |
36 ... |
||||||
Hume |
11 |
76 ... |
||||||
Smith |
23 |
m ... |
||||||
Price |
23 |
91 ... |
||||||
Paley |
43 |
05 . |
||||||
Bentham |
47 |
32 . |
||||||
Stewart |
53 |
28 . |
||||||
Whewell |
95 ..66 |
|||||||
Mill |
•• |
\ |
06 73 |
CHAPTER VIII
BERKELEY AND HUME
The Life and Writings of George Berlieley (1685- 1753). In Bishop Berkeley we have the finest type of Irish mind. In his brilliant mental powers and idealistic theory he reminds us of that wonderful Irish scholar of the Middle Ages, John Scotus Erigena. Berkeley was acutely critical, and yet he possessed a childlike reli- gious faith. He combined an insatiable longing for know- ledge with an ardent missionary zeal. " Berkeley was a born child of Plato, a lineal descendant of a race whose origin is afar off and is divine." * He was one of those exceptional minds that begin to bring forth their intel- lectual offspring when they are young. Berkeley began to publish at the age of twenty-four, Hume at twenty- eight, Descartes at forty-one, Locke at fifty-eight.
We shall divide the life of Berkeley into three pe- riods.
1. His Early Training (1685-1707). Nothing is known of Berkeley's early years, except that he was born in Kilkenny, Ireland. He was educated at the Eton of Ireland, the Kilkenny school, where Swift had been a pupil ; and it is known that one of Berkeley's schoolmates was Thomas Prior. Berkeley entered Trin- ity College, Dublin, at fifteen, and graduated at nine- teen. Scholasticism was still influential at Trinity, but new sciences, such as botany, chemistry, and anatomy,
* Read Royce, Spirit of Modern Philosophy, p. 8G ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 263-277.
170 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
had been added to the curriculum. There, too, the young Berkeley found that Locke's Essay was much discussed, and that Newton, Boyle, Malebranche, Des- cartes, and Leibnitz were widely read. From this early date Berkeley began to keep a book of his own philo- sophical reflections, calling it his Commonjilace Book. From it and from his philosophy it would appear that Locke and Malebranche were the most powerful philo- sophical influences upon him.
2. As Author (1707-1721).
Berkeley remained at Dublin as tutor and fellow five years after his graduation. In 1709 he was ordained deacon in the English church. He published two mathe- matical tracts in 1707, his Theory of Vision in 1709, his Princii^es of Human Knowledge in 1710. The Theory of Vision and the Principles of Human Knowledge were practically a statement of his philo- sophy. They have been compared thus : the Theory of Vision teaches that " all that we see is our sensation " ; the Principles of Human Knowledge teaches that " all that exists is our knowledge." Berkeley then went to London, where he was admitted to the court of Queen Anne and also to the circle that included Steele, Swift, Addison, and Pope. Berkeley showed himself humble, wise, considerate, and unselfish, and although he was shocked at the court life, he on his side charmed every one whom he met. He wanted to make his idealism better understood, and so he published it in the form of a dialogue between a realist and an idealist. This publication was called Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous (1713). He then made two journeys to the Continent — 1713-1714 and 1716-1720 — and spent much of the time in Italy, where he absorbed
BERKELEY AND HUME 171
its literature. The South Sea swindle turned him to economics, and in 1721 he published an Essay toward Preventing the Ruin of Great Britain.
3. As Priest and Missio7iary (1721-1753).
Berkeley was appointed Dean of Derry in 1721 at a salary of XllOO. Although he threw himself into his work with his accustomed zeal, there had already ap- peared in his mind the conception of an ideal society, where church and state would be united. He was dis- gusted with the worn-out European society, and wanted to remove the youth to a colony where there would be no temptations. He raised a large sum of money for this purpose, and obtained the promise of a grant from the government of £20,000, gave up his deanery, and sailed for America. He intended to settle in Bermuda and there to found an ideal State, which should also be a centre for the conversion of the American Indians to Christianity. The promised grant from the English government did not come, and Berkeley got no farther than Newport, R. I., where he lived three years. While at Newport he wrote Aldphron, the Minute Philoso- pher, and published it in England in 1732. The re- cords of Trinity Church in Newport show that he preached there many Sundays. He gave several books to Harvard and Yale Colleges. At Newport he was visited by Samuel Johnson, an Episcopal missionary, who afterwards became president of King's College in New York. Johnson was converted to Berkeley's ideal- ism, and through Johnson the doctrine was received by Jonathan Edwards, his pupil.
From 1734 to 1752 Berkeley was Bishop of Cloyne. He was devoted to missionary work among the poor, and many of his people being afflicted with an epidemic
172 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of influenza, he treated them effectively with tar-water — a remedy he had learned from the Indians. He pub- lished Siris, an essay on the philosophical virtues of tar- water, in 1744. In 1752 he went to Oxford to live, and in 1753 he died.
The Influences upon the Thought of Berkeley. Berkeley's philosophy shows little development after his first publications. With the exception of Sirls, which contains much Platonic idealism, the later works of Berkeley are scarcely more than an elaboration of his early thought in the Theory of Vision and the Principles of Human Nature. We should infer, there- fore, that the only philosophical influences upon Berke- ley were the original springs at which ho drank as a youth. Moreover, he always speaks with the dogmatic certainty of one who has drawn his material from but few sources. Never does he exhibit the indecision of a man who is embarrassed by many points of view. The two chief influences upon him were Locke and MaJe- branche. The influence of Locke was partly of the na- ture of a reaction : Berkeley accepted Locke's psycho- logical analysis, but reacted from Locke's "common sense " dualism as early as the time of his student life at Trinity. Malebranche, with his theory of " occasional causes," reinforced his opinion along the line that his reaction took. But Berkeley's own incisive genius had a relatively greater influence in dictating the course of his philosophy than is usually the case. His mind was precocious, fertile, and continuously versatile. Further- more, Berkeley's simple religious nature seems to have been an important factor in determining his intellectual belief. His peculiar idealism could take root only in a mind inspired by faith.
BERKELEY AND HUME 173
The Purpose of Berkeley. The life and teaching of Berkeley were dedicated to the true interests of reli- gion. He may be called the religious Enlightener. He would not, like the deists, strip religion bare of dogma, but he would unlimber dogma aud rational philosophy so that they would be of service to religion. His pur- pose was to free scholasticism on the one handj and rationalism on the other, from abstractions aiid obscure terms, and thereby bring about a imion of faith and knowledge. .Berkeley looked upon himself as a crusader who would retake the Holy Land for the spiritual indi- vidual.
We have remarked that one of the presuppositions of this period of the Enlightenment is the independence of the individual. The individual around which Berke- ley's philosophy centres is the spiritual individual, and is therefore unique even for this period. Such an indi- vidual is superior to his environment because he be- longs not to a material world, but to a community of religious beings who can talk and walk with God. The English Enlightenment passed from Locke to Berkeley. The inner life came into complete ascendency and the spiritual individual emerged. From the Lockian phi- losophy, with its many contradictory motives, there ap- peared the audacious one-sided philosophy of Berkeley, with its proclamation of the reign of spirituality. It stood in marked contrast with the development of the Enlightenment in France — a development of material- ism and material atoms. The spectral although stub- born boundaries of the unknowable material world, which Locke supposed to shut around the powers of the human intellect, crumbled before the hand of Berkeley.
174 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
The casual reader of the history of thought is, how- ever, often disconcerted at the appearance of such a philosophy as Berkeley's in this period of empiricism, and especially as the immediate follower of Locke. The English school is called the empirical school, and yet Berkeley is also called an idealist. But we must re- member that empiricism and idealism are not antitligti- caJL Empiricism refers to the source of our knowledge ; it means that all our knowledge is primarily derived from sens^perceptions. These sense-perceptions may be of two kinds : they may be (1) psychological facts. or ^2^_material facts. Berkeley was, like Locke and Hume, an empiricist of the first class ; and yet because he denied the independent existence of material facts, he was also an idealist. He was an empirical idealist, just as the French philosophers of the Enlightenment were empirical materialists. The critic may find that Berkeley is not a consistent empiricist, to be sure, but neither was Locke. Berkeley started out by affirming the testimony of experience against scholastic specula- lation and abstraction ; yet all along he assumed the scholastic conception of mind. Nevertheless, this as- sumption of the individual makes Berkeley a true child of the Enlightenment.*
Berkeley's General Relation to Locke and Hume. The growth of this English school from Locke to Hume is nbt difficult to understand or to remember. It is not so much a page in the history of metaphysics (the nature of reality) as in epistemology (the theory of
^ Berkeley and Hume were really also dualists, like Locke and all other Enlig^hteners. i'he ideas were sxiDstituied by them for material substances. As objects of knowledg'e the ideas were antithetical to the knowing process. Hume tried to overcome this dualism, but he was not Buccessful in hia attempt.
BERKELEY AND HUME 175
knowledge). Locke asks, What can we know? And he replies to his own question, that we can know our iiitlsas." At the same time he assumes the existence of a spiritual substance on the one side, and a material substance on the other. Neither of these is an idea, in the sense that it is an object of knowledge. The advance of Berkeley from Locke and of Hume from Berkeley was one of cancellation. Berkeley cancelled the material substance, because the material substance is not an idea, Hume then consistently enough asked. Why not for the same reason cancel the spiritual substance ? The spiritual substance is not an idea or object of knowledge. We have no more right to assume it than the material substance. The only things we know to exist are our ideas. The development of the English school may be briefly put as follows : —
Locke, Spiritual substance — ideas — material substance.
Berkeley, Spiritual substance — ideas
Hume, ideas.
Hume is Locke made logically consistent. Berkeley went only halfway. PImiie among these three was the only self-consistent empiricist. On the assumption that all knowledge is derived from sense-perception the his- tory of the English empirical school was a history of the restriction of knowledge.
Berkeley's Points of Agreement with Locke. Berke- ley starts from Locke's psychological analysis as the basis of his own theory. The purely scientific aspect of the contents of mind as classified by Locke does not call for particular criticism from him. Logical classifica- tion does not seem to concern him very much, and while he accepts Locko's analysis, he often calls Locke's classes
176 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
by other names. He commits himself to Locke's psycho- logical empiricism in the first sentence in \ub Principles : " It is evident to any one who takes a survey of the ob- jects of knowledge, that they are either ideas actually imprinted on the senses ; or else such as are perceived by attending to the passions and operations of the mind ; or, lastly, ideas formed by the help of memory and imagination — either compounding, dividing, or barely representing those originally perceived in the aforesaid ways." Our knowledge, therefore, deals only with ideas. There are the simple ideas of sensation and reflection, and ideas compounded from these.
Besides accepting the psychological analysis of Locke, Berkeley also adopts without question the assumpjtion common to Locke and all the philosophers of the En- lightenmentj^ — the assumption of the independence^ the individuaLsQjjl. " But besides all the endless variety of ideas or objects of knowledge, there is likewise some- thing that knows or perceives them — what I call mind, spijit, soul, or self. By which I do not denote any one of my ideas, but a thing entirely distinct from them, wherein they exist, or, which is the same thing, whereby they are perceived."
Berkeley, therefore, (1) agrees with Locke that all knowledge is derived from sense-perception, i. e. he agrees with Locke's empirical psychology, and (2) he also agrees with one of Locke's assumptions, viz., that the spiritual substances exist.
The Negative Side of Berkeley's Philosophy. We have now pointed out Berkeley's general relation to Locke and Hume, and more in particular his agree- ments with Locke. We are now prepared to examine the teaching of Berkeley by itself.
BERKELEY AND HUME 177
Berkeley was obliged to devote a good deal of time to the negative side of his philosophy. Just as Locke could not construct an empirical psychology until he had disclaimed all allegiance to innate ideas, so Berke- ley could not construct an idealism until he had brought to bear in a polemical fashion all his forces against abstract ideas. Of his two masterpieces he de- votes the entire essay on the Theory of Vision and a good part of his Princijjles of Human Nature to this end.
1. In proof of this he advances his analysis of ab- stract ideas. He not only denies that abstract ideas have a corresponding external reality, but he even de- nies that abstract ideas exist in the mind itself. The deception m abstract ideas arises from the use oi words as general terms. Words are always general ; ideas are always particular. There is never an idea that exactly corresponds to a word. Words^ are useful not as a con- veyance of ideas, but for inciting men to action and arousiTig- tlr^ pQccJ^^no Whenever a word is used, what we think of is the particular sense, idea, or group of sense objects that give rise to it. For example, the word "yellow" cannot be employed by us except in connec- tion with the thought of some particular yellow thing. Berkeley is a nominalist of the extremest type.
2. Again Berkeley seeks to show, by demolishing the distinction between primary and secondary qualitfes, that matter as an abstract idea has no existence. This distinction was as old as the Greek, Democritus, and was accepted by Locke. We have already described it : of a thing like a lump of sugar, the sense qualities of whiteness, roughness, sweetness, etc., are secondary because they depend upon our sensations for their ex-
178 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
istence ; they are the ways in which our organisms are affected, and not true copies of things ; the mathemati- cal qualities, form, size, density, impenetrability, are pi-i- mary because they exist independent of our senses and are true copies of things. Hobbes had already shown that such a distinction is erroneous, and Berkeley fol- lowed him by maintaining that all qualities are second- ary. The size and impenetrability of a body depends as much on sense-perception as its sweetness and color. At some length in his Theory of Vision Berkeley takes up the question of the solidity, or third dimension, of a material body, and shows that it is an inference depenHinglJn'sensations arising from the convergence of the two eyes and complicated by the sensations of touch.
Berkeley professed to be pleading the cause of the man in the street who wants a philosophy that is real " common sense." He maintained that the conception of matter IS only a philosopMcal isubtlety for those phi- losophers who seeETor'sonie thing beyond pere^eption. The man in thestreet wishes to explain things as he finds them, and not to seek mysterious abstractions which philosophers say in one breath that we know, and in another that we cannot know.
Therefore, while Berkeley agreed with Locke's as- sumption of the existence of the spiritual substance, he departed from Locke in denying the existence of a ma- terial substance. Berkeley accepted, therefore, one of the two assumptions common to the Enlightenment, but he denied the other. Now Berkeley was trying to prove a thesis. He was controlled by the ideal of his ardent re- ligious nature to free religion from false philosophy. He felt that the foes of relijjion — atheism and materialism
BERKELEY AND HUaiE 179
— had employed effectively abstract ideas, which had been one of the weapons of religion, against religion itseK. Berkeley concentrated his attack against the traditional scholastic conception of abstract ideas in general and the abstract idea of matter in particular. Abstract ideas have no existence ; the idea of a material substance is an abstract idea and therefore has no ex- istence. Berkeley was bound from the beginning of his religious crusade to explain away the existence of material substance.
The Positive Side of Berkeley's Philosophy.* In the construction of his theory in a positive way Berke- ley abridged the dualism of " common sense," and as- serted that the abridged form was better. He converted the dualism into a religious hypothesis, but it was a dualism still, — a dualism of minds and their ideas. Berkeley then set to work to show how much better his theory would explain the problems of knowledge. ♦' Berkeley sought to humanize science." He set the spirit free by relieving it of the falsities of the old dualistic assumption, but the usefulness of his abridg- ment lay in its solution not of metaphysical, but of epistemological problems.
1. Berkeley's theory may be summed up in his own abbreviated statement of it, — Esse est percipi (to be is to be perceived). Or it may be stated in that figura- tive and oft-quoted paragraph, " Some truths there are so near and obvious to the mind that a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take this important one to be, viz., that all the choir of heaven and the fur- niture of the earth, in a word all those bodies which
* Read Hibben, The Philosophy of the Enlightenment, chap. iii.
180 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
compose the mighty frame of the world, have not any subsistence without a mind — that their being is to be perceived or known." Or we may state Berkeley's posi- tion in the terms of a modern interpreter * of him : *■'■ AH objects are mentally discerned; all objects are men- tally" constituted. " Berkeley means that the existence and character of all objects are within the confines of consciousness, and there are no objects outside of con- sciousness. As sensej)erceptions they have_£fiality ; as memories they lose their warmth and distinctness; but they are not objects at all when neither perceived nor remembered. These objects are always colored by the sense-perception. They are received through the con- sciousness, and constituted by theconsciousress. Minds and their ideas a^<? nil t^'^^ PYJat,
2. Berkeley does not try to prove the existence of the mind or soul, nor does he attempt to show that we perceive the soul. But in the spirit of the Enlightenment he hardly questions its reality. He takes its existence for granted, and like the philosophers of the period he makes a direct appeal to consciousness. " I know J am conscious of my own being." Like Locke and Descartes he alleges the direct intuition of the self. In the Prin- ciples he speaks of " a notion of our own minds or spirits." Since the ideas are copies of other ijjeas, there can be no idea of the soul ; but the " notion is like the spirit that knows it." We have therefore direct know- ledge or notion of ourselves m knowmg our ideas ; we have direct knowledge of something superior to the ideas, an activity whose reality consists not in being perceived, but in perceiving. Indeed, he made the as- sertion in his Commonplace Book, which he began in
1 Hibben, Phil, of Enlightenment, p. 64.
BERKELEY AND HUME 181
college, that nothing properly does exist but conscious persons. All other things are not so much existences as signs of the existences of persons. One is absolutely- certain of what one means by "I."
3. Spiritual substances are sufficient and adequate to explain all ideas. There is no difficulty in explain- ing the images of our own minds, for our minds con- trol them. But what explains the existence of our per- cepts over which we have no control ? What substantial support have they if we remove the " material hypothe- sis " ? Suppose I grant that I exist and have control of my imaginative ideas, and that other minds exist and have control of their imaginative ideas, how then, I ask Berkeley, am I to explain the great world of percep- tions over which neither I nor other men have control ?
Berkeley's general psychological position must be sum- marized here in order to answer this important question. It is as follows : (1) All things are nothing more than perceptions. (2) All ideas, both perceptions and images, are passive, and must be caused by something in itself active. (3) Souls are active and the cause of ideas. The question then is. What soul is the cause of our percep- tions? Perceptions are ideas, are passive, but they are the ideas of whom ? Repudiate the material substance, and what is the cause of perceptions ?
Perceptions are not originated by me ; they cannot be self -originated, because they are passive and not active ; they cannot be originated by a material substance, be- cause it does not exist. Their origin must be sought in the infinite spirit, or God. If you will examine the ideas which constitute what we call nature objects, you will observe these significant characteristics about them, to which attention has already been called. They have, as
182 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
we have said, a strength, liveliness, distinctness, and orderliness that distinguish them from imaginations. They are God speaking to us in His orderly way. Na- ture objects are the language of God. The regularity and dependability of the world of nature reveal the char- acter of the Being whose language the world of nature is. They reveal a Being who is intelligent, infinite, om- nipo,tent, and benevolent. ^The regularity of the chang- ing seasons, thejconstancy ofthe heavenly bodies to their orbits, the provision of the earth for man — all the laws of nature are the language of an orderly Being.
Now we see the importance of Berkeley's deviation from Locke in his (Berkeley's) conception of all ideas as passive. All ideas being passive, there must be a cause of them. The only active causes are spirits. I am the cause or perceiver of my own imaginations. I per- ceive another's movements and know that another person or spirit must be the cause. When nature speaks in its invariable and purposive harmony, I know that an in- finite spirit is the cause. We are indeed living in a society of spirits, who speak to one another in their own language.
The doctrine of Berkeley strikes beginners and people who temperamentally cannot understand it, as absurd. The reduction of the trees, sky, etc., to ideas is a theory that has brought down all kinds of ridicule upon it. When Dr. Johnson heard of it, he is said to have stamped his foot upon the ground, and thereby refuted it. Byron is quoted as saying, " If there is no matter, and Berkeley has proved it, it is no matter what he said." Others have asked if we eat and drink ideas and are clothed with ideas. But Berkeley never doubted the existence of material objects, and the point of his theory is missed
BERKELEY AND HUME 183
if we think that he did. What he denied is the exist- ence of an unknown substance, matter, behind external objects. " The table i write on exists, that is, I see and feel it ; and if I were out of my study I should say it existed, meaning thereby that if I were in my study I might perceive it or that some other person does per- ceive it."
Another question has been asked of Berkeley wliich goes deeper. If to be is to be perceived, what existence has a tree in the forest that no one has ever perceived. What existence ^ave past events that are forgotten? Berkeley has considered this objection and has answered it. When he says that existence depends upon per- ception, he does not mean merely my own perception. Berkeley is not what in philosophy is called a solipsist (^solus and ipse)^ i. e. one who believes that nothing exists but himself and his modifications. A thing may have existence in the mind of some one else. If the thing has never been perceived by any human being, it is perceived, if the thing exists, Jpy the mind of God. The modern scientist assumes the existence of matter in the whole universe. Berkeley assumes the existence of a perceiving God. One is the materialistic and the other the religious explanation of the universe.
The Life and Writings of David Hume * (1711-1776). Hume's life bears some marks of external resemblance to Berkeley's. After periods of training that differed very greatly in point of discipline, but were almost the same in point of time, both produced, at about the age of twenty-five, their most important philosophical works.
* Read Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 326- 342 ; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 420-422 ; Win- delband, Hist, of Phil, pp. 472-476.
184 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Both turned from philosophy to other pursuits — Berkeley to missionary work at the age of thirty-six, and Hume to politics at the age of forty-one. There the resemblance between the two men ceases ; for they were antipodal by nature, and animated by different purposes. The enthusiastic nature of Berkeley is in marked contrast with the unimpassioned natiu-e of the Scot. Hume was unimaginative to the last. He was unimpressed by the legends of the border where he lived ; he had no love for nature and no appreciation of art. " While Hume's intellect was imperial, his sym- pathies were provincial." Berkeley's sympathies were imperial and his intellect was in their service. Hume was a man of kindly disposition and of moderate temper, yet he was vain, and interested above everything else in his own reputation. No object seemed worth while to him, unless it made for the improvement of his tal- ents in literature. The failure of the Treatise was a blow from which he never recovered. Always afterward he had an eye to popularity, and this is important in making up our judgment about him. All his works after the Treatise were written to please his readers and for personal success. Locke the Englishman, Berkeley the Irishman, and Hume the Scotchman came from the same middle class of society, had university training, were engaged in public service, and are to be classed in the same empirical school of philosophy. But they were personally very different kinds of men, and were types, although perhaps not representatives, of their nation- alities.
1. Period of Training (1711-1734). Hume was born in Edinburgh and lived there and at Ninewells on the border. He was a student at Edinburgh University
BERKELEY AND HUME 185
(1723-1726) and studied law the next year. He was in business in Bristol in 1734. In aU the occupations of this period he was unhappy.
2. Period of Philosopher (1734-1752). From 1734 to 1737 Hume was in retirement in France, especially at La Fleche, where he wrote his Treatise on Human Nature. He returned to Edinburgh in 1737 and pubhshed his Treatise (1739-1740). It was read by nobody and was an absolute failure. So he re- wrote Book I in 1748 and called it the Enquiry con- cerning Human Understanding. Hume's full statement of his theory of knowledge is contained in the Treatise and not in the Enquiry. He rewrote Book III in 1751 and called it the Enquiry concerning Princijjles of Morals, " of all my writings, incomparably the best," and in 1757 he published Book II as an Essay on the Passions in Four Dissertations. He became ac- quainted with Adam Smith in 1740 ; he published Essays, Moral and Political, in 1741-1742, and was a tutor in 1745, because he needed money. In 1746— 1748 he became secretary in the English military em- bassy to Vienna. In 1751, the same year that he was recasting the third book of the Treatise, he wrote his Dialogues concerning Natural Peligion, which was not published until 1779. His autobiography was also published posthumously.
3. Period of Politician (1752-1776). In 1752 Hume published his Political Discourses, " the only work of mine that was successful on its first pub- lication." In 1754-1761, while Librarian at Edin- burgh, he wrote and published his History of England. This woi'k was the first serious attempt since the lievo- lution to give an impartial account of the earlier strug--
186 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
gles against the Stuarts. Through it he at last got great fame, and fortune followed in its wake. In 1757 came his restatement of Book II of the Treatise. In 1763- 1765 Hume was secretary of the English Embassy at Paris, and he was made much of by French society. The thought of the French Enlightenment had advanced far enough to entertain him and his doctrines. Hume met Kousseau at this time. Later Hume was visited by Rousseau in England and was badly treated by the eccentric Frenchman. He says that Rousseau sins at the foundation. Hume was appointed Under Secretary of State in 1766 ; he returned to Edinburgh in 1769, and died in 1776.
Influences upon the Thought of Hume. The writ- ings of Hume show no erudition, and for that reason it is uncertain what were all the sources from which he drew. He does not mention Descartes, for example, although he wrote his Treatise at La Fleche in the shadow of the school where Descartes was educated. It is probable, however, that Hume was influenced at least by the Greek philosophers of the Hellenic-Roman Pe- riod, and by Locke. During the years after Hume's stu- dent life at the university, he pored over the writings of the Roman Stoics in the library at Ninewells, and he felt the influence of Cicero, Seneca, and Plutarch. Hume read extensively, and he reacted from his reading. He became so dissatisfied with the past that he put it aside, in the belief that the true philosophy had not yet, been written. In this reaction from the past he was influenced along the lines of Locke and Berke- ley. He admired the_advancg.jLliat.-EfirkelayJjad made over Locke, and naturally took a further step in the same direction. Hume was also acquainted with the
BERKELEY AND HUME 187
writings of Hobbes and with the history of the English theories of morals.
In 1740 he became acquainted with Adam Smith, the political economist, and Hume's Political Discourses (1752) anticipated Smith's classic Wealth of Nations. At this time (1762) he turned with all other English- men from the discussion of philosophical to political topics. There are many points of resemblance between Smith and Hume, especially in their ethical doctrine.
Dogmatism, Phenomenalism, and Skepticism. Hume liked to speak of himself as a skeptic, but philo- sophically speaking he was skeptical only of the dogmatic Rationalism of th^ "Rpnaisi^nnp.p, which had made un- limited claims for the human reason. Hume maintained in the spirit of the Enlightenment that^he human mind deals with ideas and not with reality. Human know- ledge has therefore its limits. More consistently than Locke or any one else in the Enlightenment, he tried to show the limits and extent of human knowledge.
Pure skepticism is the denial that there is any such thing as truth ; pure dogmatism would be the deductive explanation of all problems from a set of infallible prin- ciples. It would be hard to find an absolutely true ex- ample of skepticism or dogmatism, for generally phi- losophical theories are a mixture of dogmatism and skepticism. Pyrrho is often given as an example of the pure skeptic, but Pyrrho, like all other Greeks, never for a moment doubted the existence of an external, ma- terial object (vol. i, chapter xii). Spinoza is a fairly good example of a pure dogmatist, but he developed his Ethics by means of interpolated principles not in his original assumptions. A thorough-going skeptic would have to be a modern — not a Greek — who would deny
188 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
that truth can be known and that things exist. This was not Hume's contention. He affirmed the validity CL) of mathematical reasoning (2) and of matters of fact, and r3')^the probability of the natural sciances. Hume may correctly be called a. phenomenalist, a positivist, or an agnostic. So far as he maintained that there are some things which the reason cannot know, he is an agnostic. In his affirmation that we can know ideas and only ideas, he is a positivist. In his affirmation that ideas are the only existences, he is a phenomenalist. Are external objects the cause of sensations? Expei-ience is dumb. Have external objects an existence? Experience is dumb. Are souls the substance of our thoughts ? Expe- \ rience is dumb. But mathematics has truth, experience j is beyond question, and the workings of nature are J probable.
We shall find Hume to be the keenest critical mind of this critical period of the Enlightenment. He is pro- foundly serious in his examination of the roots of the intellectual life. He is past-master in the art of raising questions. He not only shows that the fundamental theoretical problems are still unsolved, but he also calls to account the hitherto untested assumptions of practi- cal life. But this is criticism, positivism, phenomenalism, or agnosticism, and not skepticism. He speaks of his doctrine as like that of the Middle Academy, in contrast with that of Pyrrho. He says that excessive skepticism upsets activity, employment, and common occupations. The conclusions of the intellect never agree with our natural instincts. Every time positive skepticism ap- pears, nature destroys it.
Hume's conclusion as to the practical attitude of the positivist toward life can best be stated in his own words
BERKELEY AND HUME 189
(Treatise^ Book I, Conclusion) : " Shall we then estab- lish it for a general maxim, that no refined or elaborate reasoning is ever to be received? If we embrace this principle, we run into the most manifest absurdities. If we reject it in favor of those reasonings, we subvert entirely the human understanding. Wejiavei. therefore, no choice left, but betwf^t^n a- false reason and none at all. Most fortunately it happens that since reason is incapable of dispelling these clouds, nature suffices to that pui'pose, and cures me of this philosophical melan- choly. I dine, I play a game of backgammon, I converse, and am merry with my friends. — No : If I must be a fool, as all who reason or believe anything certainly are, my follies shall at least be natural and agreeable. In all the incidents of life we ought still to preserve our skep- ticism. Where reason is lively and mixes itself with some propensity it ought to be assented to."
The Origin of Ideas. Locke did not proceed to the construction of his theory of knowledge until he had disclaimed at length his belief in the existence of in- nate ideas. Berkeley went further and made his polemic against the existence of all abstract ideas. Hume went still further and denied that any ideas existed except thos£_derived from impressions. Locke's attack upon innate ideas was an attack upon unverified tradition ; Berkeley's attack upon abstract ideas was an attack upon materialism ; Hume made a general attack upon rationalism. The psychology of Hume is thus made simple. It is a cancellation of the factors incompatible with strict empiricism — the factors which he found in Locke and Berkeley. Hume's empirical psychology is simply this : every idea Is the image or copy of an impression.
190
HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
What is an impression? Impressions are of two classes : (1) sensations or outer impressions ; (2) feel- ings or emotions or inner impressions. Impressions are never mistaken, because they always have a very lively and vivid character. What is an idea ? It is the copy of an impression. An idea should never be mistaken for an impression, because it is fainter and more feeble than the impression of which it is the copy. For example, the sensation of yellow is more vigorous than the thought of yeUow ; the feeling of anger more vivid than the thought of anger. Impressions are simple and elemental. Can we go back of them and find their origin ? We can- not. We receive impressions ; echoes of impressions linger as ideas ; ideas may be compounded with other ideas. Hume deals in his criticism mostly with the com- pounding or combining of ideas, but this is the sum and substance of his psychological analysis of our mental life. The following table will help us.
Perceptions (= mental states)
Sensations or outer impres- Impressions J sions
(= original) Feelings or inner impres- L sions Memories or an exact re- production of an impres- sion or of a combination of Ideas impressions
(= derived) Imagination or a combina- tion, separation, and trans- position of impressions ac- cording to the imagina- tion's own laws.
It should be noted, however, that the above classes are not coordinate according to Hume. Impressions are
BERKELEY AND HUME 191
prior to ideas, and of the impressions the feelings or inner impressions are " posterior to the sensations and derived from them." Hume is a sensationalist, for the most original of the impressions are sensations.
The Association of Ideas. Since nothing can enter the mind except through the two portals of outer and inner impressions, every idea in the mind is the copy of one or several impressions. How then can there be any such thing as error ? Error arises from the under- standing and imagination in their manipulation of the impressions — from the faculties of the mind combin- ing, separating, and transposing the mipressions and their memories. An idea resulting from such transposi- tion may and often is referred to an impression different from the one of which it is the copy.
What does Hume mean by the faculties and powers of the mind ? He does not mean that the mind with its functions exists as a reality, since all that exist are impressions and the copies of impressions or ideas. Hume means by mental faculties and powers the va- rious modes by which ideas combine. Hume makes no distinction between memory, imagination, judgment, conception, etc., except (1) as different groupings of ideas and (2) as accompanied by different feelings. The whole mental life and the faculties of the mental life are nothing hut an association of ideas. Isolated ideas are explained as copies of isolated impressions ; and from these ideas are derived groups of ideas which we call trains of thought. Why do ideas group them- selves together ? The only answer is that it is the na- ture of ideas. Hume frequently speaks of these associa- tive relations as "the manner of conceiving ideas." He also says that there is a " gentle force " or " determina-
192 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
tion " of the ideas to relate themselves with other ideas. Given the impressions and their relations, and Hume will explain the whole knowing process. Associative relations take an important place in Hume's theory, but some critics say that they are interlopers ; that he has introduced them by a back door ; that they are not mentioned in his psychological inventory.
But to Hume there is nothing mysterious about the association of ideas. They are combined, transposed, augmented, and d iminislied~according to fixed rules un- der mechanical laws. Their relationship takes place with- out freedom. Impressions occur in the way they happen to occur. Ideas combine in the way they happen to com- bine. Relations between ideas are accidental and ex- ternal. There is only one quality of ideas that does not depend on its accidental relation to other ideas. This is the quality of non-contradiction. This is the necessary property of an impression. An impression must be what it is, and cannot be conceived as having properties con- trary to its own nature. The quality of identity in an impression is intrinsic and necessary.
According to Hume, there are three fundamental ways in which ideas associate, called the three laws of association. (1) There is the law of resemhlance or contrast, by which the occurrence of a thing calls up a similar thing or its opposite. Mathematics is based upon this law of the resemblance, the contrariety, and the quantitative relations of ideas. (2) There is the law of contiguity in time and space, by which things happening together in time and space are recalled to- gether. Upon this law are based the descriptive and ex- perimental sciences. (3) There is the law of causation, upon which religion and the metaphysics of the world of
BERKELEY AND HUME
193
nature are based. The question with Hume is, How is he to explain all these laws of association as derived from impressions ? If they cannot be derived from impres- sions, then his theory that all knowledge is derived from impressions goes to the wall. The Rationalists and even his predecessors, Locke and Berkeley, had con- ceived mathematical propositions and causation as un- derived and in the nature of things. If Hume is to es- tablish his doctrine of complete sensational empiricism, here is his test.
These associations, and not isolated impressions, are the objects of human interest, inquiry, and investiga- tion. Hume makes a further reduction of associations by his well-known classification of them as either *' re- lations of ideas " or " matters of fact." Associations of contiguity and associations of causation are " matters of fact," while associations of resemblance are " rela- tions of ideas." Furthermore, Hume looks upon asso- ciations of contiguity as those of outer impressions, asso- ciations of resemblance as those of inner impressions, while associations of causation are not what they are alleged to be, but are derived from some inner impres- sions.
f 1-
Objects of Knowledge
Matters of Fact
Contiguity association
2. Causation association ^
Relations j 3, Resemblance of Ideas ( association
Outer impressions
Inner impressions
Inner impressions
Descriptive Sciences
Metaphysics
Mathematics
The Association of Contiguity. This is the most ele- mentary of the three classes of association, and concerns the spatial and temporal order in which impressions
1 Causal events are to Hume merely alleged matters of fact.
194 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
come to us. Two impressions come at the same time or in succession, and when one of them is remembered, the other is likely to be remembered also. We see a man and hear his name ; when we remember the man's face, we may remember his name also. Hume main- tains that this association of succession or coexistence is given with the impressions themselves. It is the order of the outer impressions. We perceive the order of the outer impressions with the same certainty that we per- ceive the contents of the impressions. This is the only certainty we have about '''•matters of fact^^ — a cer- tainty of the exact order of our immediate outer im- pressions. We know the order in which our impressions do occur, but, as we shall see, when we argue from this that our impressions must recur in the same order we are involved in a fallacy. Any order may recur. The fact that the sun rises in the east to-day does not make cer- tain that it will rise in the east to-morrow. It is only a matter of probability, however many times repeated. There is no certain science of " matters of fact."
The Association of Resemblance. This is a clear and distinct association which is given with the impres- sions. When we have an impression, we see intuitively its similarity or difference to other impressions, and the degrees of likeness and unlikeness. The face of one man reminds us of another man, or we contrast it with a brute's face. This association concerns only inner im- pressions, while the association of contiguity concerns outer impressions. This has to do with the " relation of ideas," while the association of contiguity has to do with "matters of fact."
I. Mathematics. But there is this difference be- tween the association of resemblance and that of con-
BERKELEY AND HUME 195
tiguity — upon resemblance is founded a demonstrative science. This is mathematics — the sole demonstrative science. The subject-matter of mathematics consists of the possible relations between the contents of our ideas — the possible relations between our inner impressions. These relations are intuitively known by us, and out of them we get a science of complete certainty. We make a comparison between the magnitudes in the contents of ideas, and we analyze their regularity. This is mathe- matics, and it is a perfectly legitimate science. Because it confines itself to the relations between ideas, and has nothing to do with "matters of fact," it can be a de- monstrative science. All mathematical knowledge is restricted to the study and verification of ideas, and has therefore nothing to do with the external world.
2. The Conception of Substance: Hume's Attack on Theology. But the association of resemblance has been made the basis of a common illusion. It has been made to transcend its proper sphere of a relationship among inner impressions ; and resemblance between ideas has been taken by people generally to mean meta- physical identity or substance. It has been transformed from a relationship between ideas to a relationship between " matters of fact." Now substance is evi- dently not an association given with the impressions, like their temporal and spatial order in the asso- ciation of contiguity, nor is it mere impression of re- semblance. Substance is the conception of an un- known, indescribable something back of impressions. There is the conception of the material substance or matter, and the spiritual substance or the soul. How did such illusory conceptions arise? If Hume rejects them as matters of real knowledge, he must neverthe-
196 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
less explain their psychological origin. The illusory idea of substance originates from the similarity of the frequent conjoining of certain impressions. The impres- sions — sweet, rough, white, etc. — occur together so often that the imagination creates the conception of the substance of sugar behind them. This arises not from the first experience, but after the association of impressions has been observed a large number of times. From the frequent association of ideas arises the feeling of their necessary coexistence. Thus do we come to have the idea of a material substance.
Hume, evidently follows Berkeley in his criticism of material substance. But Berkeley went only halfway. Berkeley had found that bodies were only conjunctions of sensations, and he had rejected as meaningless the unknown substance behind them. He did not see that the same attack could be made upon spiritual sub- stances. Berkeley's argument against the substance of the cherry could be used against the Ego or the Soul. Have I the impression of my Ego? Can I touch it or see it? The simple test shows that I know nothing about it, and I cannot affirm whether or not it exists. But if the conception of the Soul has no reality as an object of knowledge, how can it be psychologically ex- plained ? How does it arise in the mind ? The idea of the Soul is due to the frequent reappearance of the same trains of thought in my mind. Their similarity gives rise to the feeling that a metaphysical identity, or Soul, exists behind them.
The Association of Causation: Hume's Attack on Science. Among the many traditional conceptions upon which Hume turned his critical examination, that of causation occupies the most of his attention. He dis-
BERKELEY AND HUME 197
cusses it both in the Treatise and in the Enquiry. He is the first philosopher since Aristotle to give it compre- hensive treatment. He saw that all philosophical, theo- logical, and indeed scientific knowledge rests upon this conception of causation. It was accepted without ques- tion by the Scholastics of the Middle Ages, the Ration- alists of the Renaissance, and the scientists of his own time. If the conception is valid, Hume's criticism goes for naught ; for " by means of that relation we can go beyond the evidence of our memory and senses." In that case what becomes of Hume's psychological analy- sis that all knowledge consists of impressions and ideas? And if Hume's psychology falls, all his criticism of the spiritual and the material substance falls also. Upon the validity of the concept of cause depend many of the scholastic arguments for the existence of God, whose existence we can demonstrate although He is not an object of sense impression. Imagination can then go on unrestricted ; for God is accepted not only as cause, but as first or uncaused cause. Descartes, Leibnitz, and even Berkeley and Locke had accepted the causal argument for the existence of God, although the latter two had pretended to restrict knowledge to sense-perceptions and ideas. Again, the causal concept has been the foundation for the belief in a functioning soul behind the mental and physical activities of a human being; and on the same causal concept man has argued from sensations to their material substrate. All this is un- warranted and unrestricted knowledge because it " goes beyond the memory and senses." Not only theology, but science itself has gone " beyoncTThe memory and senses. ^.TTume dares to doiibt the certainly of the causal principle even in scientific knowledge. Is there
198 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
any necessary connection among events so that with certainty we can predict the occurrence of one event if another is given ? Is there in nature and history any causal law so binding that every event is a necessary result of what has gone before and a necessary cause of what will come ? The question of cause is, therefore, paramount with Hiune. If he is successful in impeach- ing cause as he has been in the case of substance, scien- tific theory must fall with theological dogma.
In his review of the conceptions of time and space (association by contiguity), Hume had found succes- sion to be a quality of impressions and to be given with them. But that is aU that can be said — the relation is one of time order, but not a relation that is necessary. The outer impressions happen to occur thus and thus ; they need not have occurred thus, and may never occur in this order again. This temporal order is not by any means a causal order. The idea of cause is that of power transferi-ed, but we have no impression of power. Impressions come as sequences, not as consequences or as powers. Sequences of impressions are the only " matters of fact " ; consequences are not " matters of fact." They must, therefore, be only " relations between ideas " and have no objective reality. From Hume's point of view this is sufficient to show that cause is not valid and real.
To deny that we have the concept of cause would, however, be nonsense. We do have the concept, and how is its psychological origin to be explained ? How does the idea arise? It does not originate (1) as an a priori concept, i. e. by an analysis of ideas, nor (2) as an outer impression, t. e. a sensation, nor (3) as memory, since memories are images of impressions. The
BERKELEY AND HUME 199
idea of cause originates from an inner impression — a strong and lively feeling connected with the imagina- tion. But how does it happen that the feeling is so strong that it makes us believe the idea, with which it is connected, is a reality ? The feeling does not arise from a single instance of conjunction of two impres- sions, but from the conjunction of two ideas repeated many times. The hellefin cause is a feeling originating in the constant coiijunction of impressions. This ex- plains why the ideas that fire wiU burn, that poison will kill, that water will wet — are so lively. The conjunc- tion occurs many times, and an inner necessity or com- pulsion arises to imagine the second impression after the first. Given the first idea, we learn to expect the second. Repetition produces nothing new in objects, but it produces in the mind a new feeling to pass from one idea to the idea usually attending it. Necessity ex- ists in the mind and not in the objects.
The Extent and Limits of Human Knowledge. What remnants of knowledge remain after Hume has applied his destructive criticism ? His critics would an- swer that, if Hume had been consistent, no knowledge whatever would remain. Upon the basis of pure posi- tivism, that all knowledge is composed of impressions and their copies, knowledge is an impossibility. But he introduced an additional element, " relations," that made knowledge possible because it afforded synthesis and allowed distinctions.
Taking Hume's doctrine as it stands, his results are these. There are two classes of sciences, the formal and the empirical. The formal includes logic and mathe- matics, and consists of knowledge of relations between ideas. Such knowledge has certainty and validity. Em-
200 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
pirical sciences consist in knowledge of matters of fact. Such knowledge never amounts to more than probability. There is no certainty or demonstration in natural sci- ence. Its results call forth not conviction, bnt belief. Beyond these subjects we have no knowledge whatever. Metaphysics and theology are only fictions. Beyond im- pressions and the copies of impressions we can make no assertions. The tendency of thought to trench beyond its own territory is the cause of all our metaphysical difficulties. It tries to do what it was not intended to do, and the result is abstract ideas. Eeason and the relation of resemblance give us the erroneous idea of spiritual and material substance ; imagination and the relation of cause give the erroneous idea of the funda- mental principle of nature.
Hume's Theory of Religion and Ethics. Hume is so true an empiricist to the end that he is a remarkable exception among the philosophers of the Enlightenment. He alone among philosophers shows the historical sense in the application of his positivism to religion and mor- als. In general the Enlightenment took no account of the past ; in this Hume differs from his contemporaries.
Hume was the destroyer of deism because he ad' vanced historical evidence against deism. Deism had three principles : that religion is the object of scientific investigation ; that religion had its origin in the reason : and that " natural religion " is the oldest form. Hume agreed to the first proposition, but he revealed his his- torical instinct by showing that religion did not originate in the reason, but in the feelings ; and that not " natural religion," but idolatry, etc., is the oldest form. Further- more, he stood almost alone among philosophers of the period in building ethics upon the feelings rather than
BERKELEY AND HUME 201
upon the intellect. The ethical motives of man are pleas- ure and pain, and not an idea of the reason. Hume's his- toric sense led him to this conclusion.
Both morals and religion should be empirically inves- tigated. As in science, so in them the most cogent con- clusions are only probable and not intuitive. Our moral activities are under the same kind of law of cause that exists in the world of nature-phenomena. The will is determined by the feelings, and the reason is the slave of the passions. Our moral judgment is based on the feeling of sympathy (Adam Smith). It is practically probable that there is a purpose in the world and there- fore a God. But this cannot be established. On the same principle of probability the world may have grown up mechanically or by chance. Religion is naturally reasonable enough, but its doctrines cannot be proved.
The Scottish School. This school represents in Great Britain the reaction from the sensualism of the Enlight- enment. The Scottish School was the British reply to Hume, just as Kant was the German reply. They were the late eighteenth century reactions in two countries to the Enlightenment. The teaching of Kant was, however, also the beginning of a new movement and a new period. The Scottish School has no such importance.
Thomas Reid (1710-1796) was the founder. Reid ad- mitted that Berkeley and Hume drew legitimate conclu- sions from Locke's general assumption that the objects of thought are not things, but ideas. Therefore Reid main- tained that Locke's position must be given up. Still empiricism remains tenable and must be applied to the phenomena of mind. What are the data of conscious- ness? Not individual ideas, as Locke said, but complex ideas or judgments. The elements will be discovered
202 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
later by analysis of these complex states which are first given. The mind is not a blank piece of paper upon which simple characters are first inscribed, and then later the understanding introduced to form judgments and the reflection to add belief in the existence of ob- jects. Our knowledge starts rather from judgments, which involve certain original truths or "natural judgments." Mankind possesses the faculty of " common sense," and this faculty makes these truths a common possession. Among the principles that " common sense " includes are self-consciousness, the reality of objects perceived, and the principle of cause.
The Scottish School called attention to the impor- tance of self-observation. The members of the school made their attack upon sensualism from the point of empirical psychology. Philosophy became in their hands the perfecting of psychology as a science of inner ob- servation. Thus they were in accord with the school of the Enlightenment, although opposed to its sensual- istic outcome. The prominent members of the school were Reid, Dugald Stewart, Brown, and Sir William Hamilton.
CHAPTER IX
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE AND GERMANY*
The Situation in France in the Enlightenment. The historian of the French Enlightenment has to take account of the reign of two kings ; that of Louis XIV (1643-1715) ; and that of Louis XV (1715-1774). Together they cover the long period of one hundred and thirty-one years. The reign of Louis XV marks the actual development of the Enlightenment, while that of Louis XIV contains the causes. The long reign of seventy-two years of Louis XIV had been an absolute, arbitrary, and personal government. It had been an age unsurpassed in literature and eloquence, but also an age in which all those subjects that did not redound to the glory of the church were suppressed. It had been the age of Moliere, Corneille, Racine, La Fontaine, and Fenelon ; an age when art was encouraged, but also an age in which political and philosophical originality would not presume to breathe. Between Descartes' death in 1650 and the death of Louis XIV in 1715, one finds a single philosopher, Pierre Bayle, and he had to leave France. The Newtonian physics was not ac- cepted in France until 1732 — forty-five years after its publication in England. Upon the death of Louis XIV the artistic glories of his reign lost all their value for the nation. In their place was set the problem of the material misery of the nation, which had been caused
* Read Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 415-420.
201 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
by the long wars and the extravagance of paternal gov- ernment.
The reign of Louis XV seethes with the struggle of social forces. It is a period in which the individual is striving to gain his rights under the institutions that have so long repressed him. The development of the French Enlightenment is identical with the struggle for political liberty. In no other period of history — except perhaps the Age of Pericles — is the history of philosophic thought so intimately connected with politi- cal history. The fifty-nine years of the reign of Louis XV are filled with exciting events which interest both the philosopher and the historian. The French Enlight- enment is the " reaction against that protective and interfering spirit which reached its zenith under Louis XIV." With Louis XV the magnificence and the util- ity of ecclesiastical and political absolutism could not be maintained. For the hierarchy of the church was unable longer to keep up its claim of independence and morality; and the State was rapidly exhausting its power by exhausting its financial resources. Each event in the history of France in the eighteenth century had therefore two aspects — each led to the Revolution, and each was a step in the development of the Enlighten- ment of the individual. The pioneers in the movement could not have been conscious of the end to which their criticism would lead ; but to us looking back upon the century the result seems inevitable. A comparison with the situation in England is interesting. While in Eng- land the political and ecclesiastical institutions were so elastic that they could without disintegrating absorb the movement of the Enlightenment, and while they were so little bound to traditional institutions t>at the growth
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE 205
in individualism would be constitutional, the situation in France was exactly opposite. (1) In France the church and the political institutions had become inelastic bodies under Louis XIV. They had reached the limit of their development. So deeply rooted in absolutism and spe- cial privileges were they that they were not open to in- novation or reform. During the reign of Louis XV the only question was, which would be crushed — the new individualism or the old institutions. No compro- mise was possible. The institutions, having survived their usefulness, gave way. (2) In the next place the French church and state had for many years been iden- tified with oppression and tyranny, while the English people had within a century gained many needed re- forms by beheading one king and forcing out another. Consequently the English government of the eighteenth century was identified with tlie liberty of the individual. In England political and religious speculation followed and did not precede political reforms. In France the op- posite was true. To the mind of the French people the church represented only superstition, and the state only profligacy and tyranny. The more they seemed to sup- port each other in one social structure, the more rapid, virulent, and excessive would naturally be the reaction against both when once individualism got a footing.
The result was that while in England the Enlighten- ment always remained critical and negative, in France it became an obstinate and positive dogmatism. Behind French criticism was developing a philosophical creed. The French Enlightenment was a social cause and a self-sustaining idea. The French philosophers of the eighteenth century, on the whole, were not superior men intellectually, for they were inclined to make the small
206 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
look large and the large great. But although their per- spective was inaccurate, they had an enthusiastic faith in progress and humanity.
The English Influence in France. Louis XIV and his two predecessors had made Paris the intellectual centre of Europe, and up to 1690 it had no rival. The French language had taken its place beside the Latin as the language of science. The circle of scientists ex- isting just before and at the beginning of Louis XIV's reign had its equal nowhere in Europe. We remem- ber how Hobbes found Euclid in Paris, Locke spent four years at or near Paris, Leibnitz gained there aU his mathematical erudition and training. During the seventeenth century Paris was the centre of scholastic influence, and this is seen directly or indirectly in the writings of all seventeenth century philosophers. The English had taken their cue from the French ; but on the other hand, it is doubtful if as late as the death of Louis there were a half dozen Frenchmen that knew the English language.
About the time of the publication of Locke's Essay the intellectual centre of gravity began to move from Paris to London. The founding of the Royal Society in Oxford in 1660 was the beginning of the organiza- tion of British scientific influence. Newton's physics (1687) then began to supplant the Cartesian physics, and Locke's psychological doctrines the dogmatism of the Rationalists, among the thinkers of western Europe. Newtonian physics and English empiricism became the scientific watchwords of the eighteenth century ; and although the French were late in accepting them, it is said that at the end of the Enlightenment there was no cultured Frenchman who could not read English. We
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE 207
find that such notable Frenchmen as Voltaire, Montes- quieu, Buffon, Brissot, Helvetius, Gournay, Jussieu, Lafayette, Maupertuis, Mirabeau, Koland, and Kous- seau visited England during the period from the death of Louis XIV to the Revolution. Poets, mathematicians, historians, naturalists, philologists, philosophers, and essayists all agreed to the necessity of studying the language and people on whom their fathers had not deigned to waste thought except in contempt.
But perhaps the j)olitical motive was quite as strong as the scientific in turning the French of the eighteenth century toward England, The English government was the example of political liberty of that time. The rising inquisitive thinkers of France had no alternative but to turn to free England for spiritual support against their own decrepit tyranny. The first French visitors were amazed at English prosperity, even though the crown had decreased in power — amazed at the liberty of the press and Parliament, amazed at the control of the re- venues by the representative body. England thus became the school for all the thinkers of Europe, and through her literature taught the lesson of political liberty first to France, and then to all Europe.
The Two Periods of the French Enlightenment. The eighteenth century divides itself in France much the same as it does in England. There are two periods : the first extending to the middle of the century, when the Enlightenment of the individual is thought to lie in intellectual cultivation ; the second, when his salvation becomes social and practical. The first period is domi- nated by Voltaire, and advanced by Montesquieu and the Encyclopsedists ; the second is dominated by Rous- seau, and results in the Revolution.
208 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
The two periods have a common fundamental motive, although the means used are radically different. Both represent a gradual progression toward the elevation of the individual in his reaction against the institutions of the seventeenth century. But the first was an intellectual Enlightenment and all that this means, while the sec- ond was emotional and social. The first was aristocratic, while the second was democratic. Yet the whole move- ment was a gradual filtering of the doctrine of individ- ualism from the upper to the lower classes. It naturally took the form, first, of intellectual culture, and then of an appeal to spontaneity. The intellectual theories of the first period were bound to find practical expression in the second. In the first period the champions of the ancient monarchy were forced to defend it on their op- ponents' own ground — that of rationality. In the sec- ond period, the monarchists had to change their battle- ground and make some practical reforms. In the first, the attack was made principally on the church, in the second on society. While the attack on the state began early, it attained significance not until the middle of the century.
The Intellectual Enlightenment (1729-1762). Vol- taire, Montesquieu, and the Encyclopaedists. The first representatives of the French Enlightenment were Vol- taire and Montesquieu. Voltaire went to England in 1726, and Montesquieu in 1728, and they both returned to France in 1729. Voltaire published his Letters on the English in 1734 and his Elements of the Philosophy of Newton in 1738.^ Montesquieu had published a fierce
^ Voltaire's Letters on the English were written in 1728, published first in London, and appeared in France in 1734. His Elements of the Philo- sophy of Newton was published in Amsterdam in 1738, but was not allowed to be publifihed in France until 1741.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE 209
invective against the political institutions of France in 1721, a discussion of the decadence of the Romans in 1734, and his famous Spirit of the Laws in 1748, selling twenty-two editions in eighteen months. Voltaire intro- duced and espoused the religious theory of Locke in deistic form, and Montesquieu expounded Locke's theory of government. Their writings were widely read by the upper classes, and this theoretical revolutionary move- ment against all existing institutions got momentum about 1735.
The aim of this movement was entirely aristocratic. The solution of the existing predicament in France lay for them in the greater care of the masses by an en- lightened tyranny. The dualism of the classes was always assumed. The few are to be cultured ; for them reason is to take the place of dogma. The masses are not amen- able to reason, have no capacity for education, and for them religion suffices. To free the individual from terror of the supernatural, to release his morality from Jesu- itical dominance, to give him intellectual independence of state and church — this was the working idea of the intellectual Enlightenment. Thought should be free, and the conscience of the individual should be untram- meled, because the reason is a sufficient guide. Being thus rationalistic, the movement was aristocratic. A new aristocracy should be substituted for the old — an aristocracy of the cultured instead of the corrupt and ignorant, who were then the dominant French classes in church and state. The illuniinati should participate in the existing political privileges.
Voltaire (1694-1778).* Voltaire was a deist when he went to England, and he was therefore very much
* Read Ueberweg, Hist, of Phil., vol. ii, pp. 124-125.
210 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
impressed by the prevalent English deism. Among the English deists, Bolingbroke had the greatest influ- ence over him, and he was the " direct progenitor of Voltaire's religious opinions." Bolingbroke's light and supercilious infidelity of the man of the world was suited to Voltaire. A universal genius, Voltaire wrote on every subject ; but " not one of his books but bears marks of his sojourn in England." He read with familiar- ity all the English philosophers, — Hobbes, Berkeley, Cudworth, Locke ; but always returning to Locke. " Harassed, wearied, ashamed of having sought so many truths and found so many chimeras, I returned like a prodigal son to his father and threw myself into the arms of that modest man who never pretends to know what he does not know ; who in truth has no enormous possessions, but whose substance is well assured."
In his Philosophical Letters Voltaire makes invidi- ous comparisons between Locke's Empiricism and Des- cartes' Rationalism, between English Deism and French Catholicism, and between the English government and the French government. Toward Christianity, as he saw it in his own country, his hatred amounted to fa- naticism. His strictures were so scathing that Chris- tians have looked upon him as an atheist. He was, however, a deist, who believed that, while we can know God's existence, we cannot know his nature. He was fond of bringing all dogma under criticism, and " while he denied nothing, he cast suspicion upon everything." He called himself the " ignorant philosopher." To him atheism was preferable to dogma and superstition. His passion for invective against the French clergy was so great that his constructive statements about God and immortality were cold and impersonal.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE 211
The Encyclopaedists.* In modern times the French have been unequaled in their encyclopaedias and dic- tionaries. The famous Encydopedie or Dictionnaire Ralsonne was what its name imphes. It was published in seventeen volumes during the years from 1751 to 1766, and had an addition of eleven volumes of plates (1766-1772). Thirty thousand copies were printed in the first instance, and in 1774 it was translated into four foreign languages. The moving spirit and editor- in-chief was Diderot (1713-1784) and his chief as- sistant d'Alembert. They were assisted by many not- able French writers like Voltaire, Rousseau, Grimm, von Holbach, etc., who wrote separate articles. There was a host of unsolicited contributors. Two years be- fore the Encyclopcedia, Buffon had begun to publish his Natural History in forty-three volumes, the last volume appearing in 1789. The Encydojocedia had two predecessors, — Bacon's chapter on Experimental History and Chambers's Encydopmdia. The articles in the Encydopcedia were presumably scientific explana- tions alphabetically arranged, such as would appear in any work of the sort. Frequently they were disguised attacks upon existing French institutions. Often a detailed description, as on the subject " Taxes " or " God," would reveal existing French conditions. As Comte says, " The Encydopmdia furnished a rallying ground for the most divergent efforts without any sacri- fice of essential independence, and made a mass of in- coherent speculation appear like a coherent system." The two successive periods of the movement of the Enlightenment unite in the Encydopcedia against the common enemy of authority.
* Read Morley, Diderot, vol. i, ch. v, pp. 113-171.
212 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
There are two things to be noticed in connection v,-ith the Encyclopedia : the men who wrote it went much further toward individualism and skepticism than did Voltaire ; and the Encyclopcedia reached a wider circle and different classes than did the works of Voltaire. Instead of the deism of Voltaire we find contributions from skeptics, atheists, and materialists, — men who are becoming more negative in their opinions as the century advances. The thorough-going agnosticism of the Encyclopjedist group reached a point where it ceased to be a philosophy, Diderot had said that the first step in philosophy is unbelief, and his associates went so far as to think that unbelief is all of philo- sophy. Their extreme sensationalism, naturalism, and materialism sometimes appeared in disguised form in the Encyclopaedia^ but more often in independent writ- ings. The Encyclopcedia became the source of inform- ation for everybody. It spread information among all classes and undermined their reverence for French in- stitutions. The result was that what had been sacred to the court and the laborer because it was traditional, now became the object of scorn to all.
The most profound of the sensationalists of this time was Condillac (1715-1780),* who does not, however, appear to be connected with the Encyclopcedia. He pub- lished his Treatise on Sensations in 1754, which reduced Locke's psychological analysis to a pure sensationalism. The well-known figurative statue endowed only with the sense of smell was conceived by him. He introduced Locke's psychology into France, whence it was carried into Germany.
* Read Rand, Modem Classical Philosophers, pp. 347- 375.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE 213
The Social Enlightenment (1762-1789). The second period of the French Enlightenment begins with the publication of Rousseau's Contrat Social in 1762 and culminates in the Revolution. The influence of Rousseau dominates the second period as that of Voltaire domi- nated the first. Voltaire had never aimed at a social revolution. His objective point was to reinstate the un- derstanding, to emancipate the individual by self -culture and by freedom of thought. He was not historian enough to see that he could not revolutionize intellectual France without pulling down the social structure. He did not realize that in striking at the tyranny of the church he was dealing a fatal blow at the structure of French so- ciety. The literary fencing between Voltaire and the adroit churchmen might have been amusing, had the issue not been so serious. But although superficial and vain, Voltaire was downright in earnest. At one time it seemed as if the intellectual Enlightenment would work itself out in the church. But the causes of the revolt were too deeply social, the malady against which Voltaire was aim- ing was too vital ; and besides, at that moment attention was being directed to the character of the State itself.
Rousseau (1712—1778).* Rousseau began at the point where Voltaire left off. He was under the influ- ence of Voltaire at the first and received from Vol- taire his original productive impulse. But the concrete right of individuals, and not their abstract intellectual freedom, was what appealed to Rousseau. Strict mod- eration and literary freedom were too negative, half- hearted, for a reformer of Rousseau's type. Public opinion was not to be found in Versailles, as Voltaire thought, but in the streets of Paris. The Revolution
* Read Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 423—433.
214 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
then came to a head, and we find the schools of Voltaire and Rousseau locking horns. Voltaire's theory of modera- tion was represented in the Constituent Assembly and the ujjper and middle classes, while Rousseau's radical- ism was introduced in the Convention and fully ex- pounded in the sections of the Commune of Paris which attacked the Convention. History shows how impossi- ble the aim of each school was, and how the contest had to be fought over again in the nineteenth century.
Rousseau lived a wandering and adventurous life, full of hallucinations and self -created trouble. He made many friends, only to quarrel with them. He was half insane, and his career inspires both disgust and admir- ation. His numerous works fill twenty-two volumes, the most important ones being two prize essays published in 1750 and 1773, which represent the negative side of his doctrine ; Helo'ise^ 1761 ; Emile^ 1762 ; Le Con- trat Social, 1762; and his Confessions, which contain his constructive thought.
Rousseau was at first a contributor to the Encyclo- pcedia, but at heart he cared nothing for the diffusion of knowledge and art. He did not understand the com- prehensive intellectual ambition of Diderot ; he resented the utilitarianism of Helvetius and the materialism of Holbach. When he wrote his prize essay in 1750, he suddenly perceived how absurd the intellectual Enlight- enment was amid the distressing social state of France. He turned against both the existing order and the would-be intellectual reformers. The temporal order of things was to him awry. Study, knowledge, and culti- vation were to him only a gloss over the deep-lying degradation. Society, as it is constructed, is artificial, and all organization is a tyranny. God exists, and He
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN FRANCE 215
18 good. Man was good until civilization and art invaded his simplicity, corrupted his virtues, and transformed him into a suffering and a sinful being. Rousseau's call was that of anarchism. It was a condemnation of the entire past. Sweep all the so-called civilization away, and level inequalities. Go back to nature ; and in the sim- plicity of that idyllic state let children grow up undi- rected except by their own un corrupted instinct, — that " immortal and celestial voice."
In an age tired of oppression and corruption Rous- seau struck a sympathetic chord which made the intel- lectual Enlightenment sound false. His contemporaries did not inquire into the motives of the mean lunatic. They did not then see that he was a doctrinaire hold- ing up an unpractical ideal in contrast with their present state. He alone in all France was the one to appeal to man's self-respect. He alone appealed to the only mo- tives that wiU result in action, — the human emotions. His plea was for every Frenchman, and his words for the unfortunate were given with such eloquence that the fortunate were compelled to listen. They were a ma- jestic language of wide compassion and sympathy. He saw in the French monarchy the greatest misery for the greatest number, and no one of its supporters appeared to the people so generous and true as he. His influence not only upon his own time but upon the nineteenth century was extraordinary, and some have said that he is the greatest modern. At all events he sounded the keynote of our own civilization, especially in art, litera- ture, and education; for he showed the fundamental correlation between Nature and the passions. Rousseau taught a sentimental deism, in which sentiment is the essential part.
216 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
The Revolution was the natural consummation of the Enliohtenment in France. The immediate issues out of which it grew were the practical ones of finance, legisla- tion, economics, and policy. The growth in the physical sciences (beginning 1760), in the study of political science, in the theory of government, as well as the financial distress of the French government, the success of the American Revolution, the advance of the French middle class to a position of power, the foolish and half- hearted measures of the French statesmen — all these were factors that at the end brought on the crisis. Yet^ the words of Rousseau, falling on fruitful soil, were the real cause. In the years immediately preceding the Revolution there was a world-wide agitation, an enthu- siasm for nature, an exaltation of man, and a contempt for the age and for the society then existing. There was a vague presentiment of impending change, which most people were prepared to welcome. Thinkers were full of illusions. Even such despots as Frederick the Great, Catherine of Russia, and Joseph of Austria affected a radicalism, and Spain, Portugal, and Tuscany, as well as England, France, and Germany, were moved with great humanitarian sentiments. The debate was univer- sal as to the condition of the human race. Rousseau was the eloquent expression of this world-wide movement.
The German Enlightenment (1740-1781). As the Enlightenment in France, so the Enlightenment in Germany had its introductory period. The history of Germany from the end of the Thirty Years' War (1648) to the publication of Kant's Critique (1781), or 133 years, is divided into two periods at the year 1740, when Frederick the Great was crowned. The period from 1740 to 1781, or forty-one years, is the German
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 217
Enlightenment. The period from 1648 to 1740, or ninety-two years, is introductory to the Enlightenment, and, as in France, a period of absolutism.
The Introductory Period (1648-1740). Absolutism. The spirit of absolutism, both politically and intel- lectually, dominated Germany from the end of the Thirty Years' War (1648) to the crowning of Fred- erick the Great (1740). Absolutism dominated Ger- many and France a full one hundred years. There are some differences between the two countries, however. It began and ended in Germany about thirty-five years later than in France. Again, in France it grew in splendor from the efforts of Richelieu and Louis XIII (1610) to the great protective idea of Louis XIV, who for seventy-two years ruled as absolute political and intellectual dictator. In Germany, on the other hand, it was a spectre hovering over a disintegrating and decay- ing nation once known as the Holy Roman Empire, but since the Thirty Years' War only a collection of states under a nominal central government. The idea of ab- solutism prevailed none the less, for within the several states each monarch was dictator as to the religious, in- tellectual, and political opinions of his subjects.
Politically and socially the Holy Roman Empire was in striking contrast to the power and splendor of con- temporaneous France. The Thirty Years' War had left the empire absolutely desolate. The land was impov- erished, the nation disrupted, and the population re- duced from seventeen millions before the war to five millions after the war. The war had been a generation long and it had degraded the nation. It had settled nothing. It left the people poor and the princes abso- lute within their respective states. The upper classes
218 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
everywhere, except at Weimar, had become profligate. The universities were reduced to a position below what they were in the Renaissance. The prince of each state established the religion for his state, so that practi- cally no religious liberty had been gained. Lutherans, Calviiiists, and Catholics were exhausted, but wei'e still antagonistic. There was no moral activity among the Orthodox ; often they set their own immorality up to prove the absolutism of their respective dogma. The war left Germany politically prostrate and intellectu- ally stagnant.
In the years that follow the Thirty Years' War it is possible to detect movements that are the beginnings of the Enlightenment. It is an important point that Germany was resuscitated from sources that lay within her own civilization. The French Enlightenment and the intellectual freedom of modern France were due largely to the influence of foreign ideas from England. The seeds of the German intellectual revival were de- veloped on her own soil. Those beginnings are (1) the rise of Prussia ; (2) the early German literature ; (3) the Pietistic movement; (4) the transformation of Leibnitz's rationalism.
1. The rise of the little electorate of Brandenburg to the powerful kingdom of Prussia in 1740 was the political basis of the Enlightenment that followed. No state had suffered more during the Thirty Years' War. The entire population was reduced to less than a million, and Berlin, the capital, had only three hun- dred citizens. The government was as harshly absolute as elsewhere. The rights of the citizens were entirely taken away by the three princes who ruled over Prussia between 1648 and 1740. But a powerful kingdom
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 219
was built up, with a strong and patriotic army. It ex- tended its dominions and was a refuge for Protest- ants, who fled to it in large numbers. It came to be feared by all the German states, and in the latter part of this period it had to be reckoned with in the coun- cils of Europe. Itself an absolutism, it was the vigor- ous political body that alone could destroy the tradi- tional absolutism of the Hapsburgs and the Holy Roman Empire. Puffendorf declared that the old Empire with its feeble sovereignties was a monster. It was a mon- ster spectre — a stubborn political idea that hovered over Europe. Frederick the Great's mission in the next period was to destroy it.
2. The meagre German literature of this early pe- riod was also an important factor in the development of the Enlightenment. Poor, indeed, it was. Never was German literary production so low. Before the war the Germans had taken Greek as their model ; after the war they copied the language, manners, and meth- ods of the French of Louis XIV. The early literature was ruled in the same spirit of absolutism by Opitz un- til 1700, and after him by Gottsched, esjjecially in the years from 1730 to 1740. It was for only a small frac- tion of the people, and was in the interests of the de- praved aristocrats of the courts. Such pedantic abso- lutism was the basis of the reaction in the next period of the literary Enlightenment, which proved the redemp- tion of Germany.
3. The Pietistic movement was the third factor that went to make up the German Enlightenment. It was a positive expression of religious individualism, similar in its position to the Prussian state in its independent growth in politics. It was a religious movement outside
220 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the church. Its two leaders were Spener (1635-1705) and Francke (1663-1727). The movement entered Germany from the Netherlands ; and the members were devout and holy men consecrated to good deeds. The Pietists were not heroic figures like the early Lu- therans, but they stood for what Luther had in his early period taught. They opposed ecclesiastical formal- ism, and they proclaimed the need of personal regen- eration and of the universal priesthood. They stood for religious freedom. They made no onslaught upon the church, but they were content with saving individuals. Pietism united at first with Rationalism — of which we shall next speak — against orthodoxy, but when the two had won their victory they quarreled. Although the Pietistic movement later became itself conventional, it furnished the ground for the religious freedom of the Enlightenment. During these hundred years of German religious absolutism, the Pietists represent the moral activity among religious bodies.
4 The chief source of the Enlightenment was the philosophy of Leibnitz. In turning back to the life of this distinguished German the reader will remember that he was the " first scientist in two hundred years," and that he was the Rationalist who presaged the Enlightenment. Leibnitz was born in 1646, just two years before the war closed, and he died in 1716, one year after the death of Louis XIV. He lived during those unfruitful years after the war and before the Enlightenment ; and his philosophy stands out promi- nently from the low plane of the intellectual activity of that time. In 1686 he completed the construction of his philosophy by introducing the conception of the indi- vidual as a dynamic centre.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 221
Many German philosophers, about the time of Leib- nitz, had later tried to free philosophy from its tech- nical difficulties and make it readable for the people as the French Encyclopaedia was for the French people. Among these were Tschirnhausen (1651-1708), Men- delssohn (1729-1786), and Tetens (1736-1805), but the German Enlightenment for many reasons did not come about like the French in the popularizing of phi- losophy. The philosophy of Leibnitz did reach the peo- ple directly, but the people were stirred through the medium of literature rather than of philosophy. Leib- nitz's philosophy became the dominant thought only in the universities and academic circles, and remained so until the publication of Kant's Critique in 1781. The HaUe professor, Wolff (1679-1754), developed and transformed it, not to its advantage, into an absolutism, and under the name of the Leibnitz- Wolffian philosophy it was the canon for the German schools. Once estab- lished in the universities it remained unchanged there even by the invasion of French thought that penetrated other German circles. Even Voltaire's residence at the court at Berlin (1750) had no influence upon the Leib- nitz-Wolffian philosophy of the Berlin Academy. The dogmatic absolutism of this philosophy remained impreg- nable in academic circles and was the last to be dislodged — and then only by a German. There was little progress among these Rationalists, once their doctrine had been cast, except in incorporating in an eclectic fashion the doctrine of others.
Wolff systematized the unordered and desultory doc- trines of Leibnitz for the purpose of teaching them log- ically. This was in 1706, when by the aid of Leibnitz
222 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
he obtained the professorship of mathematics at Halle. He met with instant success. The rationalism of his doc- trine is seen from the title of many of his works, which are Reasonable Thoughts on God^ Reasonahle Thoughts on the Powers of the Human Understanding, etc. He lectured at Halle until 1723, when he was expelled by the theological influence. His return to Halle in 1740 was coincident with the crowning of Frederick the Great and the beginning of the German Enlightenment. We can note a few general aspects of his teaching. He em. ployed the German language in his lectures, following Thomasius, who was the first to do it. Leibnitz had writ- ten in letters and treatises for the few, and had used either Latin or French. Wolff expanded Leibnitz's doc- trine, broadly and superficially, for a larger public, in the German tongue. He systematized Leibnitz's teach- ing, and thereby could disseminate it. But in doing this he so toned down Leibnitz's leading ideas that they lost all their peculiar force. For instance, he taught that only the human mind has the power of representation ; and again, that preestablished harmony applies only to the relation of the soul and body of the human monad. In general, he so extended the Leibnitz principle of suf- ficient reason that it applied to all departments, and was reduced to the principle of identity. The world is a huge mechanism designed for divine ends. Rationality is as- sumed to be everywhere, and knowledge of its existence is to be obtained only by deduction from evident prin- ciples. The result was that the philosophy of Leibnitz was reduced to a commonplace and empty rationalism — a purely deductive affair. Wolff undertook to demon- strate everything, and to make intelligible what is above reason. The Wolffian philosophy was a reversion to
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 223
mediaeval scholasticism, since it solved all problems by- proof through the cogency of mathematical and logical processes. Truth is a matter of definition and classifica- tion. Thus Wolff prodjiced a philosophy that was pe- dantic and formal, clear but shallow. It was Leibnitzian with Leibnitz omitted ; it was a thorough-going dogma- tism, because no problem was difficult to it ; it was a rationalism, because to it all truth is the deliverance of the reason and none is derived from experience.
The Wolffian Rationalism became a factor in the German Enlightenment on the one hand by combining with Pietism, and on the other through its translation into the new German literature. In itself the Wolffian Rationalism was a dogmatism that merely supplanted the dogmatic scholasticism of Melanchthon and Luther. It lost its absolutism in its combination with Pietism, and became a personal and individualistic religion. It also lost its absolutism and became more like the philo- sophy of Leibnitz through its translation into the liter- ary writings of Lessing and Herder ; and thus was subordinated to an incident in individual culture.
Summary of the Literary Enlightenment of Ger- many (1740-1781). The German Enlightenment was thus made possible by the political growth of Prussia, by the development of a meagre literature, by the rise of Pietism, and by the Wolffian interpretation of Leib- nitz's philosophy. All these were important features of the century following tlie Thirty Years' War. The year 1740 is the beginning of the German Enlightenment. It marks the crowning of Frederick the Great, the de- cline of the influence of Gottsched in literature, and Wolff's return to Halle. The arrival of Voltaire in Ber- lin (1750) is an important factor in the rise of the
224 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
German Enlightenment. The spirit of the Enlighten- ment was at its height twenty years later (1760), con- temporaneous with the Seven Years' War (1756-1763) and with the publication by Lessing in 1759 of his Let- ters concerning the most Modern Literature. In these Letters Lessing gave the death-blow to Gottschedism, and established the Enlightenment on a firm basis. This was followed by the Storm and Stress movement (1773-1787), which brought the Enlightenment proper to an end.
1730-1750 Period of Experimentation — Gottsched, the Swiss, the Anacreonticists, etc.
1740 The Enlightenment inaugurated — the crown- ing of Frederick the Great, the decline of Gottsched- ism, the return of Wolff to Halle.
1750 The coming of Voltaire to Berlin.
1751-1780 Lessing and the Enlightenment.
1773-1787 Storm and Stress Period. — The En- lightenment proper at an end.^
1787-1805 Classicism. (SchiUer d. 1805).
1795-1850 (approximately) The Romantic Move- ment.
1850- The Realistic Movement.
The Political Enlightenment of Germany — Fred- erick the Great. Political changes preceded and did not follow philosophical theories in the German Enlighten- ment. Germany was therefore like England and unlike France in this respect. The coming of Frederick to the throne of the now powerful Prussia, the reforms that he inaugurated, the religious toleration that he granted, his recall of Wolff to Ilalle, his avowed support of in-
^ In a real sense the German Enlightenment has never come to an end. Classicism and the Romantic movement were a continuation of it.
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 225
tellectual things, and especially the Seven Years' War (1756-1763) were the political groundwork that made possible the Enlightenment in Germany. Frederick himself is the great figure in the German Enlighten- ment, just as Voltaire is in the French. Frederick ac- complished in concrete acts for political Europe what Voltaire accomplished for ecclesiastical Europe. Vol- taire destroyed the ecclesiastical absolutism of the spir- itual power, while Frederick destroyed the absolutism so long connected with the name of the Holy Roman Empire and the House of Hapsburg. Before he died, he had freed the German states from the dominance of Austria, and had given to the Empire its death-blow. In the Seven Years' War he had given to modern Eu- rope an example of a new political ideal in an autocrat who professed to be the servant of the State. His whole thought was upon the advancement of his State. He set up the principle of the equality of his subjects before the law, and the principle of religious and philosophical liberty. In his external struggles with Austria and in the internal construction of his kingdom Frederick is the protest of the Enlightenment against the arbitrary despotism of political Europe. The example of Fred- erick was an inspiration to all Germany. Kant calls the eighteenth century the Age of Frederick the Great. Frederick had made his subjects feel that they were Prussians, or, as Goethe puts it, " Fritzche " (Fritz's men) ; that the great foe of the German people was the German Empire as personified by the Austrians and Saxons. When he had conducted to a successful issue a deadly war of seven years single handed against the combined force of more than half of Europe, — Austria, Russia, and France, all representing political
226 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
absolutism, — he inspired patriotism not only in his own subjects, but in the people of many other German states. Reforms were undertaken in Bavaria, Baden, Saxony, Brunswick, etc., and by Catherine of Russia and Joseph of Austria.
Furthermore, Frederick himself was personally en- lightened ; he looked upon himself as the greatest among those of enlightened intellects. He had become denationalized by his early training. His father was fond of what was German, his mother of what was English, and he himself of what was French. He had studied Bayle, read French philosophy, and become acquainted with the rationalism of Wolff and the em- piricism of Locke. He was at one time an atheist and materialist ; but deism was his natural attitude of mind, for he emphasized morality above speculation. Con- ceiving himself, as the most enlightened, to be the great servant of the State, he undertook the enlighten- ment of his people. All Prussia must be enlightened by him, and therefore no restrictive institutions, such as guilds and corporations, could be permitted. The best man should rule, and he was the best man. Since the people are incapable of looking after themselves, they must be compelled under his benevolent autocracy to be enlightened, rational, and happy.
The Course of the German Enlightenment. Why did not the movement become as in France a polit- ical revolution? There are three reasons why it did not: (1) the reforms that the German princes adopted were wise ; (2) Germany was composed of segregated states in which concerted action was difficult ; (3) a new intellectual and aesthetic current was begun by Lessing, of whom we shall speak. There is no doubt
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 227
that the Enlightenment in Germany pointed to the same result as in France. From 1760 to 1780 it looked as if Germany as well as France would witness a tre- mendous social upheaval. From 1773 to 1787, Ger- many was stirred by the Storm and Stress movement. Frederick himself had pointed to the English parlia- mentary government as the " model for our days." The most of the German thinkers were at heart republicans, — Klopstock, Schiller, Kant. Every man in Germany became a little Frederick, and tried to enlighten those who were inferior to him. The movement extended to the schoolroom. Secret societies were formed of kindred enlightened souls to enlighten the world. The most im- portant of these societies was the Illuminati. The aim of these was to free men from national and civil ties, from pedantry, intolerance, political and theological slavery. The human heart is the basis of society, and the only worthy object of study. The Illuminati included even princes among its members. It was established in 1776 and prohibited in 1786. There was a distinctive Storm and Stress literature. This was set in motion by Rousseau's Helo'ise and Eniile, which were widely read in Germany. Writers glorified the individual, called men back to primitive and uncorrupted nature, denounced civilization, and for twenty years it almost seemed as if the German Enlightenment had turned from the intel- lectual achievements of Lessing, and would follow the sentimental appeal of Rousseau. Herder was particularly prominent in this movement, also Goethe and Schiller in their early writings.
Of the three factors that saved Germany from a po- litical revolution, perhaps the most potent was the new, fresh, literary ideas of Lessing. If Frederick is the
228 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
originator of the German Enlightenment, Lessing is the savior of it. The Enlightenment in England stopped with the phenomenalism of Hume, in France with the Kevolution, but in Germany it has in a sense continued even to the present day. The classic period of Goethe and Schiller, the modern scientific achievements of the Germans, have their perpetual source in Lessing. He not only gave the death-blow to the pedantic absolutism of the intellectual past, but he set the movement upon a permanent intellectual basis, upon which it has stood against the assaults of sentimentalism for a hundred and fifty years.
Lessing. G. E. Lessing (1729-1781) was not only a sound scholar, but a polished man of the social world. He was a writer of epigrams, fables, and comedies, a dramatic and literary critic, a translator and essay- ist, a student of philosophy and ecclesiastical history, and a writer upon art. His Nathan the Wise is, after Goethe's Faust, the greatest literary production of Ger- man thought. With him German literature begins. He rejected the French models accepted by Gottsched ; he introduced Shakespeare to the Germans ; and he sur- passed all his contemporaries in literary and artistic reform, social enlightenment, and religious emancipa- tion. Lessing and Winckelmann were the first to spread a love for the past by a critical study of it. Lessing was not a violent iconoclast like Voltaire, but a dis- criminating critic. He said that if Leibnitz had wished for an interpreter, he would not have chosen Wolff. The new literary writers, Lessing and Herder, in their insistence upon subjectivity and intuition, rather than Wolff, were the true interpreters of Leibnitz. Lessing differed from the Enlightenment in his conception of
THE ENLIGHTENMENT IN GERMANY 229
the present in its continuity with the past. Herder, too, was interested in development. Lessing pointed to the perfect models in the past ; Herder to the origins of things. Both believed in an immanent God and the harmony of the universe. At this time the problems in aesthetics came to light, and with them the creation of " world literature," which drew from all historical thought — from antiquity, the Renaissance, and the Enlightenment. The Pietists, the Wolffians, and the literary writers agreed in taking the subjective point for their view of life. Thus Leibnitz appears through Lessing as a motive power in the German Enlighten- ment. Lessing's doctrine of individuality so transcended that of the Storm and Stress Period that he was not understood by it. His enlightened individual suppresses his individuality. But his principles were so funda- mental that the Storm and Stress Period proved to be only an interruption, and the German Enlightenment was perpetuated. He thus projected himself beyond the eighteenth century by the instruments of that century.
CHAPTER X
KANT*
The Convergence of PhUosophical Influences in Germany. The intellectual thoroughfare from the past into our modern times does not pass in the eighteenth century through England, nor yet through France, but by way of Germany. Traditional France ended with the French political revolution, while the English empir- ical movement proved its own inconsistency in the phe- nomenalism of Hume. In Germany alone, at the close of the eighteenth century, there was a renewed and brilliant intellectual life. In its creative productions it has been compared by the Germans to the Systematic Period of Greek thought (from the death of Socrates to that of Aristotle). Both periods appeared when the political fortunes of the respective countries were at their lowest ebb.
There were six large influences that converged upon this epoch, some of which we have already noted as beginning even as far back as the period introductory to the Enlightenment (1648-1740) (see pp. 217 ff.). Some are later in their origin or come from a foreign source. Let us merely enumerate them here.
(1) Pietism, the religious influence that began with Spener (1635) and swept Germany in the eighteenth century ; (2) The sentimentalism of Rousseau ; (3) The empirical psychology of Locke among the younger
* Read Windelband, Hist, of Phil, pp. 529-531.
KANT 231
Germans ; (4) The Rationalism of the Leibnitz- Wolffian philosophy, which was most powerful in academic cir- cles ; (5) The mathematical rigorism of the nature- philosophy of Newton ; (6) The new literary writers in their insistence upon subjectivity and intuition.
The Three Characteristics of German Philosophy. German philosophy will be seen to have three charac- teristics. (1) It is scholastic or academic. It is the phi- losophy of the professors of universities. At the same time it must be said to be the expression of the so- cial genius of the German people. Napoleon testified to this when he said, " The English inhabit the sea, the French the laud, the Germans the air." (2) This German philosophy is mystical. It is profound rather than external. It is not founded upon external experi- ence, but upon a questioning of the inner and spiritual life. It is inward, religious, and spiritual, like the phi- losophy of Plato. One of the most accurate interpre- ters of Kant has pointed out the many similarities be- tween Kant and Plato (see Paulsen, Imrtianuel Kant). (3) German philosophy was nevertheless cosmic, or a description of the world. These men whom we are now to study were not ignorant of the world or of science. Political life offered them no attractions. The soul of man was regarded by them as too noble to be engrossed in external things. As Madame De Stael said of the time, " There was nothing to do save for him whose concern was with the universe." Men, however, took the inner point of view, and regarded all things with reference to it. The Germans tried to humanize the universe. They looked upon nature as working out unconsciously those processes which consciously took place in man. The contemplation of beauty is not that
232 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of an external world, but of the inmost nature of reality. Thus individuality and cosmic reality are one and the same. Life has a joyful outlook, not because our tasks are easy, but because our strength is equal to them ; for is not God in us ?
The Two Periods of German Philosophy. German philosophy is divided into two epochs : (1) the period of the formation of the critical theory of knowledge by Kant ; (2) the period of the metaphysical development of Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Herbart, and Schopenhauer. Kant belongs both to the Enlightenment and to Ger- man idealism. He is the point of convergence of the intellectual forces that preceded him and the point of departure of the idealists who followed him. For this reason historians differ as to the period in which he is to be placed. In one sense he is the transition from the Enlightenment, in another sense he is the introduction of German idealism. But in reality he forms an epoch between the two. Although the dualism, which was al- ways the background of the philosophy of the Enlight- enment, formed too the background of his thought, al- though he on the other hand looked upon his Critique of Pure Reason as only an introduction to a meta- physics, which he never wrote, nevertheless he occupies a unique place in drawing up for his time and for the future a new conceptual standard by which the new problems might be criticised. The problem that Kant set before himself was epistemological and not one of metaphysics.
After Kant there appeared a growth of metaphysics. The great German idealistic systems appeared. At first the Kantian theory was misunderstood, but at Jena, then the chief intellectual centre in Germany,
KANT 233
there was formed a little group of Kantians under the leadership of Rheinhold. Jena is near Weimar (see map p. 280), which was the main literary city of Ger- many, and the residence of Goethe. The poetry of Weimar and the philosophy of Jena stimulated each other. Schiller is a notable example of the influence of Kant upon the literature of the time. In philosoj^hy Kant was followed by the various systems of Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Herbart, and Schopenhauer, which built a metaphysical superstructure upon the Kantian foundation.
The Influences upon Kant. The development of Kant's thought was modified by influences from at least five different sources.
1. Pietism. This was the earliest influence upon his life, and was due to his parents and to F. A. Schultze, the teacher of the high school of Konigsberg. It will be remembered that this ethical Puritanism was a moral reaction against the formalism of the churches in the period after the Thirty Years' War. Kant never lost his attachment for the Pietists ; and his later rigoristic ethical theory, as well as his own personal life, sprang from his early Pietistic training. Schiller wrote to Goethe,- " There is always something about Kant, as about Luther, which reminds one of the monk, who has indeed quitted his cloister, but who can never quite rid himself of its traces."
2. The Leihnitz- Wolffian Philosophy. This influ- ence came during his academic training in the Univer- sity of Konigsberg, which he entered upon at the age of sixteen years. This was in 1740, the same year in which Frederick was crowned and Wolff was recalled to Halle, — the time when the Leibnitz- Wolffian philo-
234 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
sophy was at the fullness of control of Germany. It must not be forgotten that this philosophy remained dominant in German academic circles until Kant's own theory supplanted it in the nineties. Kant was an avowed disciple of the Wolffian school for the next twenty years (until 1760), and he never shook off the Wolffian metaphysical dualism.
3. The Physics of Newton. To his university train- ing Kant was indebted also for his acquaintance with Newton. The antagonism between the metaphysics of Wolff and the physics of Newton was, at least at the beginning of Kant's career, of decisive importance in his development. One of Kant's teachers at the uni- versity was Martin Knutzen, whose lectures included philosophy, mathematics, and natural science. Through personal intercourse with Knutzen, the young Kant was introduced to the Wolffian philosophy, and also to the Newtonian mathematics and physics. During his activity as a teacher Kant showed, even into his later period, a predilection for natural science, especially for physical geography and anthropology. The same year in which he entered upon his career as teacher in the University of Konigsberg (1755), he published his celebrated TJieory of the Heavens^ in which he antici- pated Laplace by forty years in the formulation of the nebular hypothesis.
4. The Humanitarianism of Rousseau. Kant got from Rousseau a new evaluation of man. Kant had the advantage of a prolonged youthful development. He was well into his thirties when the movement, begun by Lessing, became a social force in Germany. A new po- litical consciousness appeared among the German people, due to the influence of Frederick the Great and to that
KANT 235
of the Frenchmen, Voltaire and Rousseau. Kant was thirty-eight (in 1762) when he read Rousseau's Emile. Kant had been brought up in the common teaching of the early part of the Enlightenment to despise the igno- rant masses of people. Through Rousseau he received in words of authority the conception of the inherent dignity of the individual man. Through this conception science and speculation came to have a new value to Kant. They were no longer ends in themselves, but the means for moral development. The moral in its primacy over the intellectual- came-to-be-a permanent feature in Kant's doctrine. His early Pietism was confirmed, and Rousseau replaced Newton in his regard.
5. The Skepticism of Hume. The influence of Hume's skepticism was felt by Kant just before his eleven years of silence, when he became engaged in his construction of his critical problem. But Hume in- fluenced Kant in a negative way. The classic and oft- quoted expression of Kant, that Hume awoke him from his " dogmatic slumber," refers to the dogmatism of the empirical school to which Hume belonged, and not to that of the rationalistic school of Wolff. To Kant_both empiricism and rationalism were dogmatic ; the one because it assumed the validity of sensations, the other because it assumed the existence of innate ideas. Thus Hume effected a reaction in Kant against Hume's own doctrine. But in thus reacting from Hume, Kant saw that the answer was to be found not in the rationalism of Wolff, but in an ideal conception of space and time. Hume's influence was the last before Kant firmly estab- lished his theory of knowledge in his Critique of Pure Reason.
The Life and Writings of Kant (1724-1804). The
236 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
external changes in the life of Immanuel Kant were the fewest possible. He was born at Konigsberg in 1724 ; he went to the school of that city and then to its uni- versity, and then acted in the capacity of tutor in fami- lies in the province of Konigsberg. He became privat- docent in the university at the age of thirty-one, and professor of logic and metaphysics at the age of forty- four. He was called to the University of Halle in 1778, but he refused to leave Konigsberg. In fact, Kant never went outside the province, and but little outside the city. Nevertheless, in the eighties he saw himself become the most imjjortant figure in Konigsberg, and in the nineties the most important power in German academic circles. In 1794 he came under the censure of the reactionary government of Frederick William II and '* was obliged to refrain in the future from all public addresses on religion." This was the only outer conflict in his life. In 1804, at the age of eighty, he died. The externals of his life were from the begin- ning to the end an undeviating routine, — his lectures, his daily walk, his dinner with friends, his hours of reflection upon his great problem. These have been made the subject of many descriptions.*
The life of Kant is notable because it is the history of an unusual singleness of devotion to the solution of a speculative problem. His youthful jjoint of departure was the rationalism of Wolff ; his point of attainment
* Read the quotation from Heine in E. Caivd, Phil, of Kant, vol. i, p. 63 ; Stirling, Textbook to Kant, Biographical Sketch ; Royce, Spirit of Modern Philosophy, chap, iv ; Whidelband, Hist, of Phil., pp. 532-534 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 376-405, 420-424; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 435-452.
KANT 237
was the Critique of Pure Reason. Between these two points his history was a series of mental reversals. Kant spoke of his life as divided into two parts at the year 1770 ; his pre-critical and his critical periods. At that time there was a change in the form as well as the con- tent of his writings. His pre-critical writings possess a graceful, flowing style ; his critical works are heavy and artificial in their structure, and reveal the labor with which his thought tried to reconcile contending motifs. So far as the content of Kant's thought is con- cerned the pre-critical period will be seen to fall into two subdivisions at the year 1760. Kant's life may there- fore be divided into three epochs : (1) 1724-1760, the period when he was a Wolffian rationalist ; (2) 1760- 1770, the period when he was an empirical skeptic ; (3) 1770-1804, the period when he was a critical epistemologist.
In the first period he accepted the rationalism of Wolff, but his main interest, as shown by his writings, was in natural science. He was inspired by the natural philosophy of Newton, which, in the latter part of this period, led him to mistrust the metaphysics of Wolff. That is to say, he began to suspect that the mere logical operation of concepts by the " pure reason "could not be a statement about things in the real world. In the next ten years — his second period — he became convinced that the metaphysics of the rationalists was impossible, and yet that the metaphysics of the empirical school of the EngUgh was equally absurd. His writings during this time are more strictly devoted to questions of metaphysics and epistemology. Then came his critical period. This was inaugurated by his celebrated Dissertation of 1770, followed by a period of eleven years of literary silence,
238 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
a silence broken by the publication of his Critique of Pure Reason in 1781. Between 1781 and 1790 ap- peared the more mature works from Kant's pen. Among them were the Critique of Practical Reason (1788) and the Critique of Judgment (1790), formed on the model of the Critique of Pure Reason. Besides these, his minor writings were very numerous, and one notes an essay by him in the last year of his life. But the writ- ings of Kant after 1790 treat in the main of the phi- losophy of law and conduct, and show themselves to be the writings of his declining years.
The Problem of Kant. The problem which Kant placed before himself was that of epistemology. Episte- mology is the theory of knowledge, and Kant set to work to investigate the knowing process. The pecu- liar significance of Kant rests upon the fact that out of the various influences converging upon him and his time he matured a new conception of the problem and of the method of procedure of philosophy. He was convinced that the problem of his time was not one of metaphysical S23ecidation, although he felt the value of such speculation in the regions of religion andjnorals. Yet he saw that the metaphysical rationalism of Wolff had proved itself inadequate because it was merely the logical operation of concepts, and had not dealt with real relations. He was equally sure that the empirical metaphysics of the Englishmen was inadequate because it was never certain of any truth. Rational metaphysics was logically true, but not real ; empirical metaphvsics was real enough, but never true. So Kant determined to find out the relation between theological process of thought and the reality of things. He felt that the first problem in his time to be faced and settled was the prob-
KANT 239
lem of knowledge, — the epistemological problem. He planned to face later tlie metaphysical problem, but he delayed this until too late in his old age. The problem of Kant can be put in the simple question, Wjjat o.^p we know ? The metaphysical problem that he deferred was. What is real? Yet his problem was not nearly so simple as this statement would seem to make it ; for the epistemological problem which he set himself was com- plicated by the Wolffian metaphysical dualism which he always presujjposed. Since Kant agreed with the Wolffian dualism — the theory^that a great gulf sgpa- rates mind and matter — his query about knowledge was not the simple question. What can we know ? but the longer question. What can we know about the external world ?
The Method of Kant. There is bound up with the epistemological problem a new method of procedure in solvingf it. How shall we find out what we can know ? Kant calls his method the critjcal_methQ,d. It is not only a criticism in a general sense, in that it weighs carefully the conditions of knowledge. It is also criticism in the special sense of confining itself to a restrid;,ed_field. Kant pointed out that^^wo methods may be employed, the aogmatiii and the treinscendental. He asserted that the dogmatic method had been employed in the past and had proved itself fallacious. What is the dogmatic method? All philosophy was dogmatic to Kant which sought to find out what knowledge is true by sho\v[ing how it originated and developed. Dogmatism is no solu- tion ; it is merely a psychological tracing of ideas to their sources. These sources will be either innate ideas, if we are rationalists, or sensations, if we are empiri- cists. The true method is the transcendental or critical
240 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
method. What is this method? It is a study of the nature of the reason itself. It is an examination of jthe " pure reason " to see if its judgments have in any instance a universality beyond human experience, and yet are necessary to human experience. The logic of such judgments must be absolutely reliable ; and yet at the same time the judgments must be applicable to the world of things. The method being transcendental, such judgments are transcendental ; not because they tran- scend our experience, but because they are necessary to experience. The transcendental is not what is chronologi- cally but what is rationally ^rior. The transcendental is the indispensable to knowledge. The critical method is the finding of this indispensable condition. Kant would search the whole field of the reason for this. Since to Kant thinking, feeling, and willing are the fundamental forms of the reason, he sought the realm of thought for the transcendentaT principles of knowledge, that of the will for the transcendental principles of morality, that of feeling for the transcendental principles of beauty.
The Threefold World * of Kant— Subjective States, Things-in-Themselves, and Phenomena. In his search for those indispensable conditions of knowledge of the external world, Kant unfolds the threefold character of the realm of human life. To Wolff the world had been twofold. In other words, Wolff had conceived the world as dual, in which there was a correspondence, part by part, of independent reality to the states of consciousness. To Wolff reality is independent of con- sciousness, and yet we are conscious of that reality.
'The word "world"' is used for lack of a better. The reader is, however, again reminded that Kant's problem is one of epistemology aud not of metaphysics.
KANT 241
Now Kant never gave up entirely the Wolffian dualism, but he came to see that in such a situation there could be no knowledge. For how can we be conscious of what is absolutely independent of us? Consequently Kant plundered the Wolffian worlds of independent realities to build up an intermediate world, — a world of phe- nomena. He dissolved the sharpness of Wolff's dualism into a world with three divisipps ] ^riA ha gave to each division a new epistemological value. These were the realm of the subjective states or the inner conscious- ness of the individual, the world of phenomena or the realm of knowledge, and the world of absolute reality or that of things-in-themselves. The value of the world of phenomena consists in its being the realm of know- ledge. The other two realms have values of their own, which we shall describe below.
Wolff's twofold world may be thus compared with Kant's threefold world : —
Wolff. Kant.
1. Mind. 1. Subjective states.
2. Phenomena — the realm of knowledge.
2. Matter. 3. Things-in-themselves. iM' 1. The realm of subjective states evidently is not a
realm of knowledge. For it is the realm of intuition and immediate apprehension of the individuals own ideas and sensations ; and this is not what we mean by knowledge. This subjective world is that in which I live alone. It is a realm of which nobody else is con- scious, a realm which gives to me my individuality. The only connecting linkage between my various purely subjective states is the accidental order of time in which, empirically or by association, they occur. Animal intel-
242 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
ligence possesses only such sense-perceptions and sensa- tions, and these are modifications of its subjective con- sciousness. Such a mental constitution has not the capacity for knowledge, but only the haphazard associa- tion of ideas. Kant looked upon the content of subjective consciousness as the object only of psychological inves- tigation.
2. The realm of things-in-themselves is not to Kant the realm of knowledge. By things-in-themselves Kant distinctly does not mean things-for-us, not material bodies, not nature objects. It must be remembered that Kant has plundered the material realm of the dualist. The things-in-themselves which are left behind as a residuum lie outside all sense-perception and so beyond all knowledge. A divine intelligence might have the things-in-themselves as objects of knowledge, but not we human beings. The th^ing--in-itself is the unknown and unknowable. But if this realm of things-in-them- selves is so absolutely independent of us that we can- not in any way know it, how can we say that it exists ? Kant replies to this: while we cannot say ickat a th'mg- in-itself is, we are obliged to say thq,t it is. For although beyond even our sense-perception, it stands as a ne- cessary jjostulate to perception, as a mere " problem." Kant also calls things-in-themselves Noumena,. and re- gards them as " limiting concepts " to the divine non- sensuous intelligence. Their reality is as little to be denied as affirmed.
3. Kant pointed out that between or beside the realm of subjectivity and that of the things-in-them- selves lies the realm of human knowledge, which we in our every-day speech call physical nature, and to which he gave the name " the world of phenomena " or " the
KANT 243
world of experience." The subjective world is appre- hended by the individual alone, the world of things-in- themselves is known by no human being, but the world of phenomena is the connnon object of knowledge of humanity. Phenomena are not things-in-themselves, but tliings-for-us ; they are physical nature, an interrelated totality for us. They constitute not absolute reality, but a reality relative to us. Phenomena are experiences in their relations ; such related experiences are objects of knowledge, and in their thoroughly organized and systematic form they constitute nature.
Thus the dualism which we ordinarily meet, like the " two world " theory of Wolff, has many differences from this critical theory of Kant with its threefold divisions of one world. One of the most important is that in Kant's theory the correspondence between states of consciousness and reality has disappeared. Reality touches consciousness only at one point, — at that point where sensations arise. Sensations mark the boundary between unknown reality and conscious life. On the side of reality all is darkness ; on the side of conscious life all is the creation of our complex synthetic activity. With the boundary line of sensation as a base, the two realms extend in opposite directions. In value the realm of our conscious life is only relative ; that of reality or things-in-themselves is absolute.
The World of Knowledge. There is this to be ob- served about the threefold realm of Kant : the realm of subjectivity and that of knowledge together make up our conscious life. One is the realm of the conscious individual, and the other the realm of the consciousness of humanity. Kant conceived this further distinction between the two realms : in a purely subjective state
244 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the mind is entirely passive and its content is without control ; in a state of knowing the mind is actively en- gaged in collecting and relating its ideas. This is called by Kant synthesis.
When Kant was formulating his problem, there gradually came to him in clearer outline the synthetic nature of the activity of the human reason. He felt more and more that the secret of the knowing pro- cess was to be explained by its function of combin- ing many experiences into a unity. This conception of synthesis is what separates the Critique of Pure Reason from all the previous writings of Kant. Fur- thermore, the three books of the Critique are exposi- tions of the different stages in which mental synthesis completes itseK: in (1) perception, (2) understand- ing, and (3) reason. The knowing activity of man de- velops in these three different forms of synthesis, in which each lower stage is the content of the higher.
What, then, is the central factor in knowledge? It is the synthetic_power of the mind. The mind is not merely passively aware of its sensations as they come seriatim, but it actively relates them and holds them together. The mind is a dynamic agent wliose_activity consistsijn synthesizing in the present_moment its ex- periences of the past. The human mind is not like a curtain upon which stereopticon pictures appear and then disappear in turn. It retains its pictures, although they are no longer being thrown upon the screen. Sup- pose we hear the ticking of a clock. Now if we had no synthetic power, all we should apprehend would be one, one, one, — and so on. But we do have synthetic power, and we say one, two, three, and so on. We count in a series in which each term includes the preceding
KANT 245
term. Two includes one, and three includes two, etc. This is knowledge. It is cumulative experience. The ex- perience of twenty animals, each having one experience, is not the same as the experience of one man having twenty experiences. In vain would nature act on man if the mind of man through memory and imagination did not carry over experiences. So the important thing is not what happens, but what power the human mind has. Knowledge, then, to Kant is the unifying of the manifold.
There are, therefore, two aspecta^to^Jaiowledge .Lihe passive sensations . and the active power of synthesis. Sensations, on the one hand, are the raw material out of which reason through its various forms creates the finished fabric of knowledge. Sensations are the content of knowledge. On the other hand, there is the active unifying power of the reason. Knowledge consists of sensations and synthesis in conjunction. Reason alone deals with " thought relations " or imaginations, when- ever it tries to treat objects of which sensations are not the raw material. Sensations alone, however, are only subjective states. The oft-quoted sayings of Kant, that " Only in experience is the truth," and that " Concep- tion without perception is empty, perception without conception is blind," refer to the restriction of know- ledge to the sense-materials and to the synthetic func- tion of the reason.
The Place of Synthesis in Knowledge. What posi- tion does synthesis occupy in the total process of knowledge? Is synthesis one of the factors or elements of knowledge ? Is synthesis on the same level with the sensations, the feelings, the imaginations? No, it ia very different. The synthesis that Kant is describing is
246 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
not the product or conclusion from an inference. Kant does not mean by synthesis the combination of facts as a result, such as a biologist might make in framing the law of the habits of animals from his observation of them. The synthesis that Kant is talking about is not so much the result of combining experiences as the act of comhining them. The frame of the unified manifold, the law of its unification, the act of binding the isolated experiences together is synthesis. Synthesis occupies a higher level than the elements of knowledge or know- ledge itself. Synthesis is the knowing process rather than the known product. It is constitutive ; it is creative; it conditions experience and puts the material of experi- ence together. It must not be thought to be a voluntary act of the mind, which the mind will or will not do, as it pleases. When the mind acts, it synthesizes.
Furthermore, the synthetic functioning of aU human sninds everywhere is the same. However much their sen- sations differ, they combine and orderly arrange their sense-materials in the same ways. The synthesis of the human mind is the source of the universality belonging to knowledge; the sensations, the "given," are the source of the difference in knowledge. Knowledge is the result of minds that function in absolutely the same ways ; and we should never have knowledge if the order and linkage of the world depended on the accident of expe- rience. Take, for example, such laws as those of mathe- matics or the physical law of cause. These are the same for everybody. They are universal laws. The ordinary conception of them as independent principles of an inde- pendent nature world will not account for their neces- sity for everybody and their universality. As independ- ent principles they would differ for different peoples just
KANT 247
as sensations differ. In that case we should have no knowledge. Human beings could not then think about the same things, nor reason under the same guiding principles. However, we do think alike, we have the same geometry, the same physical laws, the same time- estimates; and simply because we function alike syn- thetically. Knowledge is thus the common possession of humanity because the synthetic functioning of the different individual men is identically the same.
A very good way to get at Kant's central principle of synthesis is to draw this picture. Suppose that be- sides the race of human beings with its own peculiar way of ordering its world, there were a race of angels endowed with its own powers, another of hobgoblins likewise endowed with its own powers, and so on to x, y, and z races — any number you please. What would be the situation ? In the first place, each one of the groups would be absolutely isolated from each of the others. No one would have the power to know even the existence of the others. No one race would even have anything in common with the others. The world of each would be different. In the next place each would be trying to interpret reality, and in doing so, each would construct and order a world of reality of its own. The members of each race would have a world in common and the members would know one another. But that is all. The members of each race would not be able to get outside their own powers of synthesis. In Holy Writ the home of the angels has been sometimes described as having no time and space, but this means only that space and time are aspects of our mental synthesis and not of theirs. We live in our world of our interpretative con- struction of reality, and they in theirs. The same would
248 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
have to be said of x, y, and z. None would live in a world of absolute reality. But each would live in a world made different from all the other worlds by the differing mental powers of each race. Yet the members of each race would inhabit a world in common because the individuals of each had common mental powers. The particular world that human beings inhabit is called physical nature, whose laws are known as the laws of science. How can it be one world in which so many millions of different human beings live ? Because these millions of human beings are under the same funda- mental rational laws, and they construct the world in a common fashion. The laws of nature are, after all, the laws of our own minds. They are the laws of reason. The l9,vvs of nature are not the laws of absolute reality, but the laws of the human interpretation of reality. All the linkage of facts, all the law and order of our uni- verse, all the combination of the variety of objects of knowledge — in a word, the entire body of science or the world of physical nature is a human mental syn- thesis. Does independent absolute reality exist ? Yes ; but it exists behind the scenes for us as for the angels. Mental synthesis is constitutive of the world in which we are actually engaged — mental synthesis is shot through and through all our experiences. Mental syn- thesis is the framework of the universe, and therefore Kant says, " The world is my representation."
The Judgments Indispensable to Human Know- ledge. It will be seen from the above discussion that Kant does not believe that an idea or a sensation taken by itself constitutes knowledge. Knowledge consists of sensations framed together in a synthesis. That is, ideas must be taken together with other ideas. This is
KANT 249
called in grammar a proposition, having a subject and a predicate. In logic it is called a judgment. The only way a human being can express knowledge is in the form of judgments, but all judgments of human beings are not necessarily knowledge.
Judgments are divided by Kant into two large classes, — analytic and synthetic. The large class of analytic judgments are not expressions of knowledge. What is an analytic judgment ? An analytic judgment merely expresses in the predicate something that is con- tained in the usual meaning of the subject. Such a judgment articulates the meaning of an idea by empha- sizing some of its well-known attributes. Thus we say, " Gold is yellow." Such a statement about " gold " does not show any knowledge. It is called sometimes an ex- plicative statement. It is tautologous, but not on that account trivial. Let us look then to synthetic judg- ments to see if they express knowledge. But first, what is a synthetic judgment? A synthetic judgment is one in which the predicate is not contained in the usual meaning of the subject. It is a statement of something new about the subject in hand. For example, the judg- ment, " The watch is yellow " is a synthetic judgment because the predicate " yellow " is not a necessary part of the meaning of " watch." A synthetic judgment therefore brings two ideas together in a new relation. It thereby enriches knowledge and is the expression of discovery. The synthetic judgment is often called am- pliative. (The double meaning which Kant gives the term " synthetic" need not confuse us. Synthesis is used by Kant to mean the framing constitution of the mind, and also as one of the results of the activity of the mind, i. e. a class of judgments. In the first, sense all
250 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
judgments, both analytic and synthetic, are expressions of synthesis.)
Are all synthetic judgments expressions of know- ledge? Kant replies that they certainly are not. He points out that there are two classes of synthetic judg- ments : one class he calls a posteriori and the other a priori. By aposteriori he means judgments founded in some sense-perception, which are particular judgments or judgments that are inferences from a greater or less induction of sense-perceptions. For example, if I say, " To-day is warm," or that " Swans, so far as I have observed, are white," I am making a synthetic judg- ment, because I am joining two ideas in a new relation, and I am also making an a posteriori judgment, because it is a statement founded upon sense-perception. Now Kant rules such judgments out from those that consti- tute true knowledge. This would rule out even empiri- cal generalizations of high probability, such as " The sun rises in the east." A poster^iori judgments, or those founded on experience, however large, do not give us knowledge, but merely probability. The cases upon which such judgments are founded are always limited, and there may be exceptions beyond our observation.
The only kind of judgments that are the expression of true knowledge must, therefore, be synthetic judgments that are a priori. That is to say, they must express some new relation between ideas that is also universally and necessarily true. By a priori Kant means the universal and necessary ; and, furthermore, he maintains that the universal and necessary, and nothing else, consti- tutes knowledge. He points out that we make such judgments. When we say that the three angles of a tri- angle equal two right angles, or that every event has a
KANT 251
cause, we are saying something universal and necessary, something not founded on experience. No one would admit that there were exceptions to these proposi- tions. The question, then, that Kant tries to answer in his Critique of Pure Reason is, How are synthetic judgments a pi'iori possible? Or since to Kant know- ledge consists of synthetic judgments a priori^ under what conditions is knowledge possible ? ^
For the sake of clearness, let us state this problem of Kant in another way. It is the nature of man to try by mere thinking to discover the nature of reality. The dogmatic school of Rationalists had attempted, without calling in experience to its aid, to weave out of pure thought answers to the questions about God, immortal- ity, and nature. It had maintained that clear and dis- tinct notions have a reality corresponding to them, and are therefore real. Judgments formed in this way are analytic a priori ; but it is evident that while such analyses of thought have a cogency for thought, they do not necessarily have a corresponding reality. On the other hand, conclusions based on experience have a kind of validity for the real world, but they yield no certain truth about it. These are synthetic judgments a poste- riori. If Hume is right in saying that these are the only judgments dealing with nature, then we have no certain truth about nature. They give generalizations that are useful on the whole, but their conclusions range only from possibility to high probability, and never
^ Paulsen says {Immanuel Kant, His Life and Teaching, p. 135) that this formula of synthetic judgments a /^ri'ort appears only in the intro- duction to the Critique and in Kant's later writings, and it would liave been no misfortune if Kant had never discovered it. But Windelband {Hist, of Phil., p. 533, n. 2) says, " No one who does not make thig •lear to himself has any hope of understanding Kant."
252 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
reach certainty. Besides (1) conceptual knowledge and (2) " knowledge of matters of fact," Kant pointed out that there is a third kind. This is the only valid kind. This knowledge is based on synthetic judgments a pri- ori. Such linowledge arises independently of experience, i. e. is a priori, and yet is valid for experience, i. e. is synthetic. Hume's statement that such knowledge is synthetic a posteriori is not accepted by Kant. Kant is, therefore, bound to show how this third class of syn- thetic judgments a priori is possible, and how pure thought can be binding on experience.
The Proof of the Validity of Human Knowledge. If we turn now to review what we have said about Kant, we find that he undertakes to solve the problem, Hbto can we know f by a critical study of the forms of the reason. We have found that the reason is essentially a synthetic power, and is the framework of the world of phenomena to which knowledge is limited. Knowledge is the complex thing, consisting of sensations as its woof and synthesis as its warp. To answer the question, Under what conditions is knowledge possible ? we must study not sensations, but synthesis in its several forms. If Kant can show that the mind furnishes the a priori^ that is, the universal and necessary forms to knowledge, he thinks he has proved his case. He has then explained why human knowledge is valid and thus proved that human knowledge is valid. Now Kant tries to show what the special a priori forms of knowledge are and in what the validity of such forms consists. In the first book of the Critique of Pure Reason, the JEsthetic, he undertakes to show what the a priori forms of mathe- matics are and how they make knowledge valid by being forms of mental synthesis. In the next part of the
KANT 253
Critique^ the Analytic^ he tries to show what the a pri- ori forms of the knowledge of physical science are and how they make physical science valid and objective. In the last part, the Dialectic^ he discusses the a priori forms of the reason and shows why they have no validity in knowledge. These are three stages in which the knowing activity develops as three different forms of synthesis. The stages are perception, understanding, and reason. Each higher stage has the lower as its con- tent. Finished knowledge involves perceptions, repro- ductions in the understanding, and a recognition of the whole by a thinking subject. Perception, understand- ing, and reason are not separate acts, but different levels of one consciousness. These will be taken up in suc- cession.
I. In What does the Validity of Sense-Perception Consist ? Kant points out :
(1) Sense-perception has (a) a content of sense qualities, like sound, color, etc., and (5) the relations of space and time.
(2) Space and time originally belong to the subject as its forms of sense-perception, and are not introduced from without by experience.
(3) By means of space and time a priori knowledge is possible.
If there is any validity in perceptual knowledge, it depends upon the constitution of space and time ; not upon the character of the empirical content, or the sensa- tions. The questionaboutthe validity of sense-perception, then, is a question about the reliability of mathematics.
There are two elements in sense-perception : a neces- sary and constant, and a changing and accidental. Space and time are the constant element. They are homogene-
254 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
ous, and always one and the same in quality. They are unities, for there is only one space and one time, and the many spaces and times are only divisions of this oneness. All the differences in space and time are due to the re- lation and movements of bodies, and are not inherent in space and time themselves. How is this unity and homogeneity of space and time to be explained ? By assuming that space and time are original and uniform functions of perception, the forms of perception, the ways of apprehension, the " prehensile organs of our sensibility." They are the ways in which we synthesize on the lower level of consciousness. If they were given in experience, there is no reason why the several spaces and times should not be intrinsically differ- ent, like different bodies with different qualities. How- ever, by conceiving them to be mental syntheses in the level of perception, they explain the universality of the laws of mathematics. They are the colored spectacles that all human beings wear ; or, to use an- other figure, they are the mould into which all sensa- tions are run. Being the unchangeable forms of our sensuous receptivity, they have a validity for the entire compass of perception. They are universal because one experience of space and time is valid for all spaces and times ; they_are necessary because we cannot think of objects apart from them ; they are p^rce^tual sjti- theses because they increase knowledge. Of course we are unconscious of this perceptual synthesis of the sen- sory elements in space and time. The process takes place automatically. We can nevertheless analyze the process after it has taken place, and speak of the sensa- tions as the materials of knowledge, and the forms of space and time as the a jJ't^iori elements. But in actual
KANT 255
conscious experience, sensations never come to us in their rawness. They are never turned over to the un- derstanding unless they bear the stamp of space and time. The process of knowledge, therefore, starts with complex material — complex because it has been synthe- sized below consciousness. In other words, perceptions come into the process of knowledge with two aspects : (1) their permanent and necessary form ; and (2) their accidental and changing content.
2. In What does the Validity of the Understanding Consist ? Kant's discussion of the synthesis of the understanding is given in the Analytic, the second part of his Critique. His treatment of the understand- ing is similar to that of perception. The understanding, be it remembered, is regarded by Kant as the second stage in the process of a complete synthesis of know- ledge. It is synthesis on a higher level than perception. Indeed, perception is the matei'ial which the under- standing synthesizes. As in the j:Esthetic Kant seeks to show : (1) the a priori factors of the understanding and (2) that these a priori factors give to knowledge its validity. The unifying principle of perception is the mathematical ; but physical nature, which is the sub- ject-matter of the study of the understanding, is more than mathematical, more than an aggregate of space and time forms, more than shapes and motions. Nature exists as a connected system of substances, causes, etc. Natural science possesses besides its mathematical basis a number of general a priori principles for the validity of its conclusions.
Kant's task was therefore only begun by showing that perception possesses the universal and synthetic principles of space and time. Perception is only the
256 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
beginning of knowledge. It is not knowledge, but only subjective consciousness. On the other hand, the un- derstanding is the faculty of knowledge, and therefore Kant seeks to point out its a priori or universal ele- ments, and by their presence prove its validity.
Since the days of Aristotle the general terms used in reasoning have been called categories. Any class- term or genus may be called a category. There are certain S2/mma genera, the most extensive classes or classes with the lowest connotation, that have been traditionally known as categories, because everything that can be affirmed in a judgment must come under some one or other of them. Aristotle names ten, — substance, quality, quantity, etc. But these Aristotelian categories are classes of analytical relations, such as formal logic treats. They are the classes of the attri- butes and relations into which objects may be analyzed. These evidently are not what Kant is seeking. He is in search of synthetic categories. He is looking for the synthetic forms of the understanding itself, which trans- form perceptions into objects of knowledge. He is not looking merely for abstract conceptions. For ideas become nature objects only when they are thought as things with qualities universal to every human mind. The understanding creates out of the perceptions the objects of thought which form the nature-world ; and the categories of the understanding are the constitutive principles of such objects. The categories are the re- lating forms of synthesis through which objects arise. The most difficult part of the Critique is called the " Deduction of the Categories," in which Kant attempts to derive the synthetic forms of the understanding from the various kinds of judgment. Kant's list is curious
KANT 257
but unimportant, and only two of these categories are useful, — substance and cause. He divides the categories into four general kinds and enumerates three categories of each of these kinds, as follows : —
Categories of Quantity, — Unity, Plurality, Totality.
Categories of Quality, — Reality, Negation, Limita- tion.
Categories of Relation, — Substance, Cause, Reci- procity.
Categories of Modality, — Possibility, Existence, Necessity.
These categories occupy the same position in the un- derstanding that space and time do in the perception, — they are the a priori principles. In respect to them the perceptions are the a posteriori material. The cate- gories are pure, innate, and transcendental. They are the inner nature of the understanding. Thus the ob- jects of the understanding contain both a priori and a posteriori factors, and are syntheses of manifolds. Perception synthesizes sensations, while the under- standing synthesizes perceptions, and states the synthe- sis in the form of a judgment.
Having named the a priori forms of the understand- ing, how does Kant show that by their means our knowledge of nature has validity? Because when the understanding functions, it prescribes these forms to perception. Impressions would remain vague and form- less, if we did not think them ; by_nTeans of thought we weld impressions into objects and give them a co- herent reality. This is exactly what is meant by under- standing. If nature were an independent thing and prefici-ibed laws to the understanding, the laws would never be universal and necessary. The universality of
258 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the laws of nature can be explained only by supposing that the understanding prescribes its laws to nature, not to nature as a Thing-in-Itself, but only so far as it appears in sense-perception. Universal and necessary knowledge of nature is possible only if the connections and relations of nature are absolutely identical with the modes of thought. The categories of the understanding have objective validity, therefore, because the laws of the understanding are the fundamental laws of nature. The understanding has given such laws to nature. A priori and therefore universal and necessary, synthetic and therefore creative, the world consists of objects under laws of the understanding. There are as many kinds of natural objects as there are categories of the understanding.
If we will examine what we call the world of nature, we shall find that many of its objects have never been perceived. Man has only partly explored the earth, and there are vast regions in space that he has never seen. He has never seen the South Pole, and the North Pole only recently ; he has never seen the other side of the moon, and there are myriads of stars beyond even the reach of his telescope. These are not perceptible things, and yet they are the objects of the understanding — objects of knowledge. How is it possible ? It would not be possible if the laws of nature were limited to the em- pirically perceived facts. It is possible because the laws of the understanding are the laws of nature and apply everywhere, whether the thing is actually perceived or not. The moon must have another side because the hu- man understanding conceives all substances in this way ; the law of cause and effect obtains beyond the stars, and at the South Pole, even though they have never been
KANT 259
perceived. The world of physical objects, or in other words the world of objects of the understanding, con- sists of both possible and actually perceived objects. If the laws of nature were prescribed by nature to the mind, then the world of objects would consist only of actually perceived objects.
But look at the world of nature a little more closely. It is one whole world with very many things in it. Why is this the case ? Would it ever be so if our knowledge of the world was simply a reproduction of what the world presented to us ? Of course not. There would be as many different worlds as there are human beings. The wholeness, the oneness of our world of many things to many individuals indicates not only that the under- standing is the source of the laws of the world, but also that the faculties of understanding in all the millions of human beings have a transcendental unity. Knowledge has therefore a stronger proof of its validity, since what is knowledge for one human being is knowledge for all. Every individual man is conscious of the contrast be- tween his own subjective world and the world of know- ledge which he shares with other men. His own ideas have a movement of their own and have no validity be- yond themselves ; the ideas which he shares with others, however, are valid for all others because these ideas are beyond the control of any one man. Each individual man has to acknowledge this control of his knowledge as residing in something beyond himself. The categories of each man's understanding cooperate exactly with those of every other man. The individual man is not actually conscious of this process of cooperation in ex- perience, but he accepts the objective necessity of it.
The individual consciousness is not therefore the
260 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
creator of the objects of knowledge ; rather conscious- ness in general — the consciousness of humanity — is the creator. Kant is not a solipsist, but an idealist. A higher consciousness, a super-conscious SeK, must be as- sumed to explain the compactness of human knowledge. Kant does not call this super-conscious Self the "soul" or "spirit," but the "I think" or the "transcendental ego," or by the more clumsy phrase " the transcendental unity of apperception." He contrasts it with what he calls the "empirical ego" on the ground that it is the ego always identical with itself, rather than the Self at this or that particular moment. It is the Self as thinker rather than the Self as thought about. The super-con- scious SeK is always self-active and never dependent upon empirical conditions. It must be accepted as the postulate of all knowledge. It is the universal Self, and through it the categories of the human understanding become universalized. Just as space and time are the unifying forms of synthetic consciousness on its lower level ; just as the categories of the understanding are the unifying forms of the synthetic consciousness on a higher level ; so the universal Self must be postulated to explain the universality of the categories. It is a postu- late only because it, not known in experience, is neces- sary to explain the unity of knowledge. This theoretical conception of the Self by Kant is thus very different from the traditional notion of the soul.
Has the Reason by Itself any Validity ? When Kant calls his criticism the Critique of Pure Heason, he uses the term " Reason " in a wide sense as the whole know- ing process. In the Dialectic he treats the Reason in a narrow sense, as if it were a special faculty like the perception or understanding. This is, of course, a con-
KANT 261
fusing use of terms, like his use of the term " Synthesis "; but it should cause no difficulty provided the two uses are known beforehand. The term " Ideas " is also used in two senses. In this place it has a special use. While usually an idea means any thought, here it means the synthetic form of the special faculty of the reason, just as the categories are the foi-m of the understanding, and space and time the form of sense-perception. The syn- thetic forms of the Reason are the three Ideas, viz., God, the soul, and the totality of the universe.
What is the office of this special faculty of the Rea- son and its Idea-forms ? They represent Kant's way of stating the natural tendency of the human mind to get from its knowledge the greatest possible unity with the greatest possible extension. Consciousness is a synthesis which is never satisfied in being partial and incomplete. The partial syntheses of its faculties of perception and understanding do not satisfy it. Perception and under- standing tell us nothing about God, about the soul, and about the totality of the universe, for these faculties are fettered to experience. Yet God, the soul, and the total- ity of the universe are very important matters. So the Reason leaps over the boundaries of experience, and thinks it is justified in poaching in the territory for- bidden to knowledge. The Reason is not content with the partial and relational knowledge of mathematics and of physical science, but it would deal with the unrelated and the unconditioned. Indeed, we need only search our own minds to see how true Kant is to fact. We find that we ourselves are not satisfied with conditioned things, which must be explained by other conditioned things. On the contrary, we long to know the absolutely unconditioned, which alone will explain all conditions.
262 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
We are forever seeking to make our synthesis complete, and to render a rational and complete account of what is nevertheless impossible to our knowledge.
Now it is evident that the Ideas of the Reason are not indispensable to knowledge in the sense that the cate- gories of the understanding and the forms of sense per- ception are indispensable. Cause, time, and space enter into all knowledge. Physical and mathematical laws exist as facts, and need no proof for their existence. Kant asked about them, " How are synthetic a i^riori judgments possible ? " But concerning the judgments of the Reason, he asks a different question : not How are they possible, but Are they possible?
The Reason and its three Ideas give what Kant calls transcendent knowledge in distinction from the tran- scendental knowledge of the understanding and its cate- gories. By transcendent knowledge he means that which is beyond the limits of possible experience ; while transcendental knowledge refers to knowledge about the necessary principles of experience. Kant, however, is willing to acknowledge that the Ideas of the Reason have a legitimate use. They are " regulative principles " in that, by showing what our limitations are, they also show that human knowledge is not the final goal. Their illegitimate use appears when they make a show of be- ing true knowledge. Both science and theology wiU be the gainers when the Ideas are no longer used illegiti- mately. Kant says that he has destroyed knowledge of God and the soul " in order to make room for faith."
The Idea of the Soul. Rational psychology had taught that the soul had direct and intuitive knowledge of itself. From the time when Descartes formulated his famous ^'•Cogito ergo sum,'' this conception of self-
KANT 263
consciousness has been popular. I can have myself as the direct object of my own thought. Upon the basis of such assumed intuitive knowledge that each soid has of itself, the Rationalists had ascribed the qualities of simplicity, substantiality, spirituality, and immortality to the soul.
Kant denies that we have any such self-knowledge. If we turn back to his definition of knowledge we find it to be a synthesis of a manifold. Knowledge, to be knowledge, must (1) be based upon sensations, and on that account (2) consist only of phenomena. The soul is not phenomenal, but the deepest kind of reality. How can I have knowledge of my soul ? The soul is spiritual and not phenomenal, even according to the Rationalistic philosophy. Therefore the soul is pre- cluded from being an object of knowledge. Further- more the Rationalists' conception of the soul as simple and iuunortal would make it an impossible object of knowledge. An object of knowledge is not simple, but is the unity of a manifold. The imifying or synthesiz- ing function is not an object to itself. Sensations are synthesized by space and time into perceptions ; but space and time are not objects for the sensations. In understanding, therefore, the " I think," which synthe- sizes the perceptions into judgment, cannot be an ob- ject for the understanding.
Kant points out that we must be careful to distin- guish between the transcendental and the empirical ego. We have referred to this distinction already. In Kant's criticism of knowledge he maintained that there must be postulated a " synthetic imity of apperception," if knowledge is possible. But such an ego is only a postu- late ; we can have no knowledge of it nor can we say
264 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
what it is. We know that the immediacy of experience or the sameness of knowledge from moment to moment demands this. This is the transcendental ego, a kind of universal synthetic background.
But this is different from the empirical ego, which I can know as an object of experience. Tlie empirical ego is what I can know of myself at any time — a group of sensations, feelings, or thoughts. Now such groups change from moment to moment. My knowledge of myself consists only of my momentary, changing self. This changing self is not the immortal, simple, and identical soul of which the Rationalists have been speak- ing. The empirical self is complex and transitory ; it is an object of knowledge, and it is not therefore the same as the immortal soul. " I think I " is impossible. " I think me" is possible. To make the "I" an object is to commit a fallacy.
The Idea of the Universe. The contradiction in rea- soning about matters beyond the test of experience appears sharply with reference to problems about the world as a totality. The inherent self-contradiction of the reason attracted Kant's attention very early with reference to the problems of infinity. Such self-contra- dictions were put into final shape by Kant in the Cri- tique in the four following so-called antinomies : —
(1) The antinomy of creation. Thesis: The world must have a beginning in time and be inclosed in finite space. Antithesis : The world is eternal and infinite.
(2) The antinomy of immortality (or the simple). Thesis : The world is ultimately divisible into simple parts which cannot be further divided. Antithesis : The world is composed of parts subject to further division, and no simple thing exists in the world.
KANT 265
(3) The antinomy of freedom. Thesis : There is free- dom ; there are phenomena that cannot be accounted for by necessity. Antithesis : There is no freedom, but everything takes place entirely according to the neces- sary laws of nature.
(4) The antinomy of theology. Thesis : There is a necessary being either as part or as cause of the world. Antithesis : There exists neither within nor without the world an absolutely necessary being.
Critics have pointed out that these problems as thus stated by Kant are not altogether cosmological prob- lems, but include the contradictions of psychology and theology ; that is, all the contradictions of the Reason when it is used dialectically. They show how both Ra- tionalism and Empiricism^ a»-meta{»hy^ieal theories, are in their nature contradictory. When the universe is treated as an object of knowledge, contradictory propo- sitions can be maintained. The contradictories are both proved and refuted. In respect to the first two antino- mies, both theses and antitheses are false ; in respect to the last two, both theses and antitheses may be true, if they refer to different worlds. If the Ideas are ap- plied only to the world of phenomena, they involve in- explicable contradiction. The Idea of free will and un- conditioned being may apply to the world of Noumena ; while the Idea of necessity and conditioned being may apply to the world of phenomena.
The Idea of God. The Idea of the soul involves us in a paralogism, the Idea of the universe as a whole involves us in inextricable difficulties and contradic- tions ; the Idea of God cannot be demonstrated. Kant does not deny that God exists. He merely maintains that we cannot make God an object of knowledge. The
266 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Idea of God is to Kant the expression of the need of the Reason for a perfect unity.
In one of his earlier writings Kant had constructed a conception of God, which is the same as appears in the Critique. God, purely as a conception, is constructed by Kant as the sum total of reality, the ens realissi- mum^ who so includes all finite qualities in Himself that they do not limit Him. He is the primal cause of the possibility of all being. Now, can such an Idea have objective validity ? No ; the Idea of a sum total of all that is conceivable is not an object of possible experience. Only particular things or phenomena are realities for us. God as the transcending total of par- ticular things can have only a conceptual reality and a validity for thought. The total has the reality that any idea has. This is Kant's general criticism of the dia- lectic Idea of God.
But the general conception of God had played so important a part in traditional philosophy that Kant felt it necessary to examine the three important intel- lectual proofs for His existence in order to show their falsity.
He takes up first the ontological proof of God's existence, which originated with St. Anselm and had been accepted by the Rationalists. The Idea of God is the idea of a perfect being. A being would not be per- fect who did not exist. Therefore the Idea of a perfect being must include the quality " existence " among its predicates. The essence of God must involve His ex- istence, because the unreality of the ens realissimum cannot be thought. Kant replies thus : " Being is no real predicate." It is not a quality like love, power, or goodness, for it adds nothing to the content of the
KANT 267
subject. "A hundred dollars contains no more content than a hundred possible or conceptual dollars." We cannot reason from the concept of the actual to its existence. The only test of actuality is perception.
The cosmological proof, which Kant examines next, is an argument from the existence of contingent phe- nomena to the existence of an unconditioned reality. There must be some uncaused cause of existing caused phenomena. Kant's reply is this : Cause has no mean- ing if it is applied beyond the bounds of experience. Within experience all causes are the results of causes, and therefore an uncaused cause is a contradiction in terms. Every existing thing is contingent. A necessary being can be only a thought, and would not be power- ful. It would not be as powerful as a very great finite being which had existence.
The physico-teleological argument comes next under Kant's criticism. This argmnent is based upon the in- ference that intelligent design found in nature implies an intelligent designer of nature. Kant replies as fol- lows : Even granting that the world exhibits the design of beauty, goodness, and purpose in its construction, such a beautiful, good, and purposeful world would only prove the existence of an architect and not the existence of a creator. Kant points out, however, that this proof is the oldest, clearest, and the most popular ; and he thinks it deserves to be treated with respect on that account. The wonder and magnificence of nature must free man from the oppression of any subtle argument against the sig- nificance of nature. Nevertheless Kant feels that this proof lacks intellectual cogency ; for it is possible that nature is freely acting and has power within itself.
The conclusion of the Dialectic, in which the Keason
268 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
attempts through its Ideas to soar beyond experience, is that such speculation has never added to our know- ledge. Mere conceptual thought cannot be knowledge of the reality of the soul, God, and the world. Still, the Ideas of the reason are an integral part of the hu- man mind, and they must have their purpose. They can- not be verified by experience, in which alone is truth, but they can regulate experience. They are " regulative Ideas " in that our experience is better governed if we act as if there were a soul, as if God existed, and as if the woi-ld were a totality of related things. Moreover, whjle speculation cannot jprove the existence of God, the immortality of the soul, and the freedom of the will, atheistic speculation is unable to prove tin? contrary of all these propositions. The Ideas of the Reason clear the way for faith based on morality.
Conclusion. The Critique of Pure Reason is what its name implies, — a criticism of our c_Qnscious powers. It points_out the limits anxL.£xi£jit_jQ£.Jiiiinau, knpw- ledge. In one sense, it is constructive ; for it establishes against skepticism the conclusion that kno^^dge_has a validity within it^s own limits. In another sense, it is destructive ; for it shows against dogmatism how futile our intellectual striving is to explore many regions that have been considered the proper realm of knowledge. No knowledge is possible..,Jtliat_is^ transcendent =- no knowledge beyond the limits of experience.^ Experience ties our mental powers to itself. Experience is the boundary of the understanding. Reality, the Things-in- Themselves, are unknown and unknowable. But tran- scendental knowledge is possible. Within experience there are the transcendental factors that on the one hand transform sensations into phenomena, and on the
KANT 269
other give to these phenomena a validity for all man- kind. These transcendental factors make knowledge reliable, but they add not one whit to its content. On account of these transcendental factors we can be ra- tional with one another and members of one world of humanity. The value of knowledge is not lessened, but is defined. Our world of phenomenal existence is now accurately assessed as a world of relative reality. It is placed in its proper perspective. It is seen as our own interjjretation of what is really real. This is very impor- tant ; for although the restricted form of our mental powers withholds us from knowing reality, we may nevertheless think it. The pure intellection of reality will be of value, if in some other way its contents can be assured. Kant now points out that this assurance is found in the moral will.
The Problem of the Critique of Practical Reason: The Ethics of Kant. " Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the oftener and the longer we reflect upon them : the starry heavens above and the moral law within." In this classic sen- tence Kant showed that he had no desire to humiliate the theoretical reason, which is the understanding. He was merely assigning it to its place among the powers of man, in order that it might do its proper work more efficiently. The world of morality and the starry heaven impressed Kant equally. Kant would not have the un- derstanding chasing will-o'-the-wisps. After his criticism of the understanding he turned to the will, or as he calls it the practical reason, and criticized its functions and scope. This ethical teaching of Kant appears in his Metaphyslc of Morality and in the Critique of Practi- cal Reason. His early Pietistic education, his reading
270 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of Eousseau, his study of the English moralists, influ- enced his theory of morals ; while his investigations into the history of civilization, his theoretical philoso- phy, and his independent analysis of the ethical feeling marked the route which his ethical development took. The world of morality to Kant has primacy. In his theory it is the real world, for compared to it the world of scientific phenomena, the world of the theoretical reason, is relative.
The central idea in Kant's theory of morals is that rational spontaneity is exactly the same as freedom. This contrasts his theory with Hedonism. The value of man's life depends on what he does spontaneously, not on what happens to him. This idea of fi'eedom is the central thought in all Kant's discussions of society. In his theory of government the republic is to.^e preferred to the monarchy, because of the opportunity to its citi- zens of spontaneous freedom ; in religion the true church is composed of free beings worshiping God freely ; in education self-activity is the sole principle of growth. Ethics is a system of the pure rational laws of freedom, just as science is a system of the pure rational laws of nature. If ethics has real validity its laws must be, as in science, a priori or derived from the reason itself, and synthetic or applicable to experience everywhere. If the moral law be valid it must be indifferent as to its content, and yet valid for all content irrespectively. The source of the principle of morals is thus the same as that of science : it is a priori. The principle of morals is uni- versal in its application to experience, just as the a priori synthesis of knowledge is. However, just at that point the difference is to be seen between the foundation of science and that of morajls — between the reason as
/
KANT 271
pure and the reason as practical. Reason in the form of knowledge is restricted to experience ; but reason in the^form^t the will, while applicable to experience, is not restricted to experience. If the understanding^^ without the content of experience, it is empty and use- less. The understanding must always be a synthesis of a manifold. On the other hand, the practical reason needs no content. It is sufficient in itself. It need not be obeyed anywhere nor have any concrete content in the phenomenal world. It has no reference to what is but to what 07/ffht to he. The world of morality and the world of phenomena are different worlds. The world of morality is absolute reality, while the world of knowledge is only relative. The world of morality is the unconditioned, while that of knowledge is condi- tioned by experience. Morality applies not only to hu-
man beings, but to all rational beings, if any other ra^ tional beings exist. Knowledge, however, belongs to human beings alone. The moral law has not its home in the empirical, but in the transcendent, intelligible world, which to knowledge would be the world of Things-in- Themselves.
The Moral Law and the Two Questions concern- ing It. The questions of the Critique of Pi^actical Reason are the same as those of the Dialectic: (1) Is there any a priori synthesis ? This is not the question of the Analytic^ which is. How is an a priori synthesis possible ? (2) Can the human being be moral and still be a part of the world of phenomena and necessity ? We shall now comment on the first of these problems. If the vnll has validity, it must be the expression of 8(jme universal and necessary principle. Can we find any such a priori principle in our consciousness ?
272 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
1. The First Question concerning the Moral Law. If we search our consciousness, we shall find that there are two classes of incentives to action. The first are called the inclinations, or perhaps better the impulses. We may will because we desire to gain something, of use, pleasure, perfection, etc. Such an act of wiU is dependent upon the object that arouses it. Such an act of will would not be an example for any one else ; for the circumstances that called it forth would be likely to be different in each case. For example, there is no consensus as to pleasure among individual men ; and what is pleasant to one is unpleasant to another. The same is true about objects of use and ambition. In all these matters judgment does not help us in mak- ing our selection, for people who are the most dis- criminating often are the most unhappy and useless. All these things are indeed goods, but they are goods for the moment — goods that are dependent on some- thing else, and not goods in themselves. They are legitimate ends enough, but they are so transitory that they cannot be valid. It is evident that when the wiU is governed by inclination, it is governed by an empiri- cal (a posteriori')^ and not by a universal and necessary^ (a priori) principle. Such empirical principles are called by Kant hypothetical imperatives.
Let us look to the reason itself to see if the principle of its practice lies there ; for it is certain that we shall not find the principle of universal validity for our will among our impulses. The reason is a spontaneous syn- thesis. It is a fact that any one may verify "who will search his consciousness — that man may will from reason. The wi]! i^ay be inipt'lled from within, qjjid need not be compelled from without. The will may be
KANT 273
an imperative in itself, proclaiming its right because it is reasonable, justifying itself because it is reasonable, functioning because it is the function of reason. Then is the will the expression of reason. It is the reason in practice. The will is uiiconditioneT^and free because it is the unconHitioned reason acting. It is then autono- mous. It has then validity because the reason is univer- sal and necessary. This kind of willing Kant calls the categorical imperative. It is the moral law. It is a law unto itself, and it is the only basis for morality because it is the universally valid reason.
The categorical imperative is unique — there is no- thing like it in human nature. It is the one kind of will- ing that has absolute validity ; and that is because it is unique in having itself for its own end. The conscience may be said to be its expression in the individual. Kant formulates the valid command of the moral law as, " Act as if the maxim from which you act were to become through your will a universal law of nature." The various maxims of morality, like " Thou shalt not lie," occupy the same position to the will that the cate- gories do to the understanding. They are the forms of the moral will. Actions should proceed from maxim» rather than from impulses, and the moral maxims ar,e adapted for all beings who act rationally. A specific act may become good because the moral law, that inspires it, is good. Nevertheless " nothing can possibly be con- ceived in the world or even out of it, which can be called good without qualification, except a good will." The virtues or the gifts of fortune may be good and desirable ; they may also be evil and mischievous, if they are not the expression of the moral will.
2. The Second Question concerning the Moral
274 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Law. This leads us to the answer to the second quea tion, How can such a purely necessary and universal principle be effective in human life ? Of what service to man is a principle so formal that if the incHnations coi5perate with it, the act is no longer moral? The moral law is not only transcendental, but it is tran- scendent, for it does not have experience as its content. It is its own content. It is independent of all expe- rience in three ways : (1) In origin, it contains only a formal principle ; (2) In content, it contains only a formal principle; (3) In validity, it is not concerned as to whether it is obeyed or not ; it declares what ought to be, even if what ought to be is never done. The question always arises about Kant's ethics, Of what service can such a remote and formal principle be ? Morality takes place in the world of experience ; and here is Kant's principle of morality existing in the world of unconditioned reality. Of the usefulness of such a principle Kant's explanation is not fully satis- factory. His ethics is fundamentally a rigorism, from which he is unable to escape. Duty and inclination are in antagonism. Only those acts of will are moral which are performed solely from the sense of duty. In them- selves the natural inclinations are indifferent ; when they oppose the moral will, they become bad ; only when they are inspired by the moral will are they of ethical service. Moral action is therefore narrowed to that in which the imperative of duty is consciously paramount. ** The friends whom I love, I gladly would serve, but to this in- clination incites me; And so I am forced from virtue to swerve, since my act through
affection delights me. The friends, whom thou lovest, thou must first seek to scorn, for to no other way can I guide thee;
KANT 275
' T is alone with disgust thou canst rightly perform the acts to which duty would lead thee." *
The Moral Postulates. Kant's ethical theory points away from the phenomenal world rather than toward it. To be sure, the natural inclinations take the color of the moral law when they are inspired by it; but the moral law tells us of the world of reality rather than of the world of phenomena. The moral law shows to man that he is more a resident of the world of reality than of that of phenomena. Man's nature is dual. Of its two sides — the theoretical and the moral — the moral is primary. Fundamentally man is a willing agent rather than a thinking being. He is a phenoriienal being, bound to the laws of natural necessity ; but he is also a real unconditioned being, because the unconditioned reason is his real self. What was implicated in the Critique of Pnre Reason becomes explicit in the Crit- ique of Practical Reason. The understanding hints at what the will makes ])lain. Human knowledge is a mix- ture of transcendental understanding and empirical sen- sations. God's knowledge would be pure understanding ; the knowledge of the brutes is pure sensations. Human morality, however, contains a dualism ; for the practical morality of man consists of the formal moral law inspir- ing the sensibilities although not heeding them. The will as pure reason is the activity of God ; the will~as. pure impulses is Ihe activity of brutes. But the true realm of- man is this world of reason in which he is one with God, although he is at the same time hampered by being part of the world of phenomena.
1 Quoted from Falckenberg, Hist, cf Modern Phil., p. 387. This is a paraphrase of some of Schiller's verses in The Philosophers, a satiiical poem of philosophical theories.
276 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
I. The Postulate of Freedom. The unconditioned moral law is the basis of freedom for which all scientific knowledge seeks in vain. An unconditioned will is a free will. The will based upon the reason is based upon itself and is therefore free. The consciousness of the moral law within us implies freedom in its exercise. The " I ought " implies " I can." We can have no know- ledge of freedom, for in the eye of the understanding only causal necessity rules. But the reason commands as well as knows. It states what ought to be as well as what is. Its mandate implies freedom, as its knowledge states existence. When we will, we act as if we were free, and our freedom is a postulate which cannot be proved to the understanding. Freedom is not an object of knowledge, but an act of faith. Freedom as a postu; late is the condition of morality, and the primacy of the will over the pure reason is shown in the fact that it can guarantee what the understanding cannot prove.
2. The Postulate of the Immortality of the Soul. The goal of the inclinations is happiness. The goal of the will is virtue. There is no relation or correspond- ence between the two in this world. A man may be happy and still not virtuous ; he may be virtuous and not happy. Since a man belongs to both the world of free spirits and the world of necessity, he is thwarted in reaching for his highest good in this life. His high- est good is the union of virtue and happiness. If this is to be attained, another life must be guaranteed. Yet this is only a postulate and not a proof. When man wills, he wills as if he were an immortal being.
3. The Postulate of the Existence of God. Faith in reaching forward must postulate God, as alone able to vouchsafe future harmony between goodness and
KANT 277
happiness and alone able to distribute justly the rewards and punishments that are so disproportionate in this world. When I will, I will as if God existed. When I will, I create by my willing my freedom, my immor- tality, and God's existence. But because my will is an unconditioned law of my real being, my faith in these things is well founded.^
1 Kant's theory of Beauty, discussed in his Critique of Judgment, through which he tries to reconcile the antagonism of knowledge and morality, is omitted here.
CHAPTER XI
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS
Idealism after Kant-* Kant's criticism had been a fine dissection of the processes of knowledge. He had laid scientific knowledge open and separated it into its parts. In doing this he had acted in the spirit of his time, which had been inauirurated bv Lessins:. His doc- trine became the point of departure of many differing systems. A modern German professor in the University of Berlin has been wont to say, - There are ten inter- pretations of Kant's Critique, which are the ten kinds of philosophy at the present time." The incoherence of Kant's philosophy made it famous. He represented the first stage of a social movement ; and like all social move- ments the world over, the fijst stage was critical, self- inconsistent, and destructive of tradition. The second stage is the one upon which we now enter, and we shall find it to be reconstructive along several lines. Criticism is always an inducement to new systematization. In Germany, after Kant, there was naturally, therefore, a great systematic movement which its intellectually virile and many-sided life was ready to express. Culture and philosophy went hand in hand. Jena was the centre of Kantianism and was in close proximity to Weimar, the centre of German cultare.
At the time that the philosophy of Kant became popular, the teaching of Spinoza was resurrected from its long sleep and introduced into Germany. Kant was * Read Windelband, Hist, of PhiL, pp. 568-569.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 279
the "all-crusliing " critic; Spinoza was the dogmatic mystic. Their opposition did not amount to a con- tradiction, but was of the correlative sort. Kant and Spinoza became the two intellectual foci about which revolved the thought of the generation after Kant. All the succeeding philosophers show Kant's influence upon them, for they aU accept his epistemology. They show the influence of Spinoza in varying degrees.
The philosophers whom we shall now meet may be divided into groups. The first group consists of Rhein- hold, Fichte, Schelling. and Hegel. These took the lead in destroying the Kantian conception of the thing- in-itself and in constructing a pure idealism. The second group consists of Herbart and Schopenhauer. These tried in different ways to develop a metaphy- sics of the thing-in-itself. A third group consisted of the old Wolffian rationalistic school, which was, how- ever, misuccessful in its opposition to the spread of the doctrines of Kant and Spinoza, A summary of the leaders of the German thought of this time would not be complete without mention, lastly, of the mis- cellaneous group of Kterary Romanticists, whose writ- ings partook of the philosophical spirit. The influence of Spinoza is especially prominent in this group. Jean Paul Richter (1763-1825) was the forerunner of this movement, and it included the names of Tieck. Wack- enroder, the two Schlegels. Xovalis, the two Romantic women. — Dorothea and Caroline, — Schiller, and Goe- the. The poet Schiller did much to popularize Kant's aesthetic and moral doctrines.
Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. This group of disciples of Kant can be imderstood sympathetically onlv in the light of their age. They were not philosophical adven-
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 281
turers, otherwise the great representative of the age, Goethe, would not have associated with Schelling and Hegel on equal terms. They stood for the revulsion of the period against all external systems, and for the reali- zation of a spiritual realm of free spirits. They sought not a factitious and imaginary condition, but tried rather to discover the essentials of the spiritual life. They would reclaim reality spiritually, and their only defect was in their haste in carrying out their princi- ples. Fichte, ScheUing, and Hegel are sharers in one common movement. They tried systematically to pre- sent the evolution of the world as an unbroken evolu- tion of thought. They went back to Kant, but they were bolder than he. They sought to transcend the limita- tions of thought which he had laid down. They would set thought free, and, gazing in upon their own spirits, they would find there the whole infinite universe. The spiritual realm seemed to them to be wider than any one had supposed. It was a self-governing realm, quite different from the world of matter. History to them is cosmic and develops under one law of progression. It is an upward movement of assertions, negations, and syntheses. Life is cosmic spirituality. For Fichte the spirit is a cosmic battle for moral ends ; for Schelling the spirit is a cosmic artistic construction, which transforms the external and internal worlds into a work of living art ; for Hegel the cosmic spirit unfolds in a strict and rigorous logic, whose consumma- tion is thought of thought. But while Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel look at the world each in his own way, they are members of one common movement toward spirit- ual freedom, and toward the reestablishment of meta- physics.
282 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
The Life and Writings of Fichte (1762-1814).* Johann Gottlieb Fichte was the most notable of the immediate disciples of Kant. In contrast with the un- disturbed and uneventful scholastic retirement of his master, Fichte's life looms up as a series of conflicts, sometimes with extreme poverty and sometimes with hostile forces created by his own stubborn and irascible disposition. Fichte's external life was throughout one of curious contrasts, both of tragedy and romance. His love for the moral and theological appears in his early youth in his voluntary self-denial and in his sermons to the geese which he was herding. Again, he made preparation to become a preacher, but his intellectual training in the university drove him to abandon it. He became a necessitarian and tried to square his life with his philosophy, although it weighed his heart down. Then came the so-called " Atheistic Controversy " when he was professor at Jena, and his defiance of the au- thorities and his dismissal. In the tumultuous days at Berlin he turned his metaphysics into patriotic appeals, and would have joined the army, but his death inter- vened. The inner development of Fichte, too, was dif- ferent from that of Kant. Kant's inner development was coincident with his long life. Fichte, on the other hand, at the age of twenty-eight had read and accepted Kant's philosophy, and four years later had created his own. This was only slightly modified in his later years in the direction of the pantheism of Spinoza. Kant's life was apart from the political current of his time,
* Read Royce, Spirit of Modern Phil., chap, v; Eucken, Problem of Hujnan Life, pp. 486-490 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 486-496, 516-535 ; Windelband, Hist, of Phil, ^^. bn-bSl.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 283
while his doctrine became fundamental for aU future philosophy. Fichte' s life and philosophy were more ex- pressive of his time, but less lasting in their influence. Fichte is the philosophic preacher to his time; Kant is the instructor of all time.
Fichte's life may be divided into four periods, which are marked by certain external events.
1. His Education (1762-1790). He was the son of a poor ribbon-maker. As a boy he worked for his father, and again at the equally humble employment of herding geese. It was during this latter occupation that his wonderful memory attracted the attention of a philanthropic nobleman, who gave him means for an education. Fichte studied theology, philosophy, and philology at Leipsic and Jena ; but he had to face ex- treme poverty again upon the death of his benefactor. In 1788 he got a position as tutor in Zurich, and here he met Pestalozzi, Lavater, and his future wife, a niece of the poet, Klopstock. During this period his philoso- phy was a necessitarianism, which he had evolved from the theology in which he was trained and his reading of certain books on Spinoza.
2. Disdpleship of Kant (1790-1794). Fichte re- turned from Zurich to Leipsic, and in the capacity of tutor in philosophy he assisted a young man in the reading of Kant's Critique. He was at once converted heart and soul to the Kantian doctrine. In 1791 he called on Kant at Konigsberg and submitted to Kant his Critique of Revelation. The next year he published this work, and by some fortunate accident his name as author was omitted from the title-page. The work was attributed to Kant, and was widely read as a master- piece by Kant. Kant had to correct the mistake, which,
284 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
however, made the real author, Fichte, famous. So he returned to Zurich in 1793 to marry Frjiulein Rahn, who was herself now in comfortable circumstances.
3. His Life at Jena (1794-1799). The year 1794 was another milestone in the biographj'^ of Fichte. In this year he was called to Jena, then the principal uni- versity of Germany, to succeed Rheinhold. In this year he published his philosojihy in his best known work, the Wissenschqftslehre. He remained at Jena only five years. At first his popularity exceeded that of the popular Rheinhold, but he soon filled his life with controversies. He quarreled with the students and the clergy, and in 1799 the so-called "Atheistic Contro- versy" arose, in which charges were brought against his teaching as atheism. Brooking no criticism either of his teaching or of his official position, he defied the authorities of the university and was dismissed.
4. His Life at Berlin (11 99-lSU), In 1799 Fichte went to Berlin to live. At first he had no academic affiliations, but he found a large and sympathetic pub- lic, to whom he lectured. He was warmly received by the circle of Romanticists, — the Schlegels, Tieck, and Schleiermacher. His philosophical system got little de- velopment ; but the influence of Spinoza appeared in his teaching. He lectured upon the ethical and religious aspects of his philosophy, and upon political and social subjects. In 1808 he delivered his famous Addresses to the German People. In 1810 the University of Ber- lin was founded and he was called to the chair of phi- losophy, but he was connected with the university only two years. For in 1812 came the call to arms, and Fichte was with difficulty dissuaded from enlisting. He remained in Berlin and preached to the soldiers in
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 285
camp. His wife volunteered as hospital nurse and con- tracted a fever, from which she recovered. Fichte, how- ever, who nursed her through her sickness, died of the disease in 1814.
The Influences upon Fichte's Teaching. Any esti- mate of the influences upon Fichte would be distorted that did not recognize the calibre of the man himself. Fichte was essentially a puritan reformer. He was im- petuous and life-loving, but withal a simple-minded man. All the philosophical influences which he was ca- pable of feeling would naturally be turned by him into ethical and religious sermons to reach the life of men. He must be thought of as the crusader armed with ab- stract truths, which he wields with a giant's strength for the moral uplift of man.
It was natural then that the two principal influences upon Fichte's doctrine should be Spinoza and Kant. To be sure, such writers as Lessing, Rousseau, and Pes- talozzi furnished him much material in his early years, and the Romanticists in his later years. His wife, Johanna Rahn, was also a source of power to him, and through her influence after their marriage his aim be- came clearer and his character lost much of its harsh- ness. But the two great influences upon Fichte were the two great philosophical forces of this time, Spinoza and Kant. Fichte's philosophy has been described as " Spinoza in terms of Kant," and also as " an inverted or idealistic Spinozism." The influence of Spinoza upon Fichte's thought is seen at both ends of his life. At the beginning he was an amateurish Spinozist. He found that the theological training of his boyhood was a neces- sitarianism like Spinozism. lie lost his faith in Chris- tianity, and he was unhappy because he found Spinoza's
286 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
doctrine of necessity was intolerable and yet unanswer- able. Then he read Kant and found a solution of his difficulty without having to change the doctrine of Spinoza. For Kant had placed behind the necessitated world the free spirit. In the last period of Fichte's life the influence of the mystical side of Spinozism ap- peared, through Fichte's intercourse with the Eomanti- cists in Berlin.
Why We Philosophize. To Fichte philosophy was distinctly a personal problem, and we feel in all his words that he is wrestling with his own nature. He found in his mind two very different classes of ideas, and he was certain that philosophical problems arise from their antagonism. On the one hand there are the ideas about the world of physical nature, which are only our experiences under the law of necessity. On the other hand there are the ideas of the individual con- sciousness, which are contingent and voluntary. Which of these two classes of ideas is primal ? Fichte felt that all philosophical curiosity arose from the contrast of these two classes ; the solution of philosophy and the satisfaction of our philosophical curiosity would be reached only by the reduction of one class to the other. Fichte calls the philosopher a dogmatist who seeks to re- duce voluntary ideas, which compose our individual con- sciousness, to the necessitated series. Spinoza sought to do this, and the philosophy of Spinoza depressed Fichte as intolerable. But there is the alternative to the phi- losopher to explain the necessitated series by voluntary consciousness. This is idi-alism. Tlie moment a man be- gins to reflect, he must choose between dogmatism, i. e. necessitarianism, and idealism. He is always confronted by an Either-Or, a choice between freedom and necessity.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 287
The Moral Awakening. In his early life Fichte saw to his despair no escape from the philosophy of neces- sity. When he read the Critique of Pure Reason a great light came to him. He flung himself immediately upon the side of idealism. He saw that necessitated events were phenomena, and therefore the creations of consciousness. Consciousness cannot be the slave of necessitated events. Kant's philosophy was to Fichte a work of art of the free spirit. The world cannot contain man and compel him. Man may be oppressed by the world, but he can see that such oppression is not real. In his Vocation of Man (1800) he gave in autobiographical terms the story of the awakening and development of the individual mind. At first one is ovei'whelmed by the sight of the necessitated events of the world. Next he comes to believe that all events are mere appear- ances, and he is weighed down by the still greater de- spair that no reality whatever exists. Finally he finds the rock of hope amid the sea of appearances. He finds an ultimate and irreducible fact in the categorical im- perative of duty. " Thou must " is above necessity, above the phenomena that are always reducible to other phenomena. Duty means the freedom of my inner life. That there is always lodged in me a duty to perform, shows that I am superior to phenomena, that I am a citizen of the supersensuous world. This " heaven does not lie beyond the grave, but already encompasses us, and its light dawns in every human heart." " That I myself am a freely acting individual must be the funda- mental thought of every true philosopher."
Every one must therefore choose between dogmatism and idealism, if he would not fall a victim to skepti- cal despair. Two motives will determine one's choice :
288 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
one theoretical, the other practical. The primary motive is the practical one, and since dogmatism and idealism are equally consistent systems, man's choice will depend mainly on the manner of man he is. If the individual has a high sense of duty, he will be disposed to believe in his moral control over all his experiences, however much they may seem to be necessitated. Conscious free- dom will seem to him to be the only satisfactory ex- planation of practical life. But then there will be the additional theoretical motive. The man that chooses either dogmatism or idealism must theoretically make his world consistent. The dogmatist cannot explain the conscious facts in terms of determinism ; but, Fichte thinks, the idealist can explain the necessitated facts in terms of consciousness. At any rate the idealist has the task of rethinking his scientific knowledge.
The Central Principle in Fichte's Philosophy. How does Fichte attempt to draw up a consistent theory so that he can overcome the dualism between the necessi- tated facts of physical nature and the free states of con- sciousness? As an idealist he must rethink the know- ledge of science. But how is this to be done? What principle will he place at the central point of conscious- ness, so to illuminate the manifold problems of life that life's dualism will prove to be only apparent after all ? Here as answer we find the outcome of Fichte's struggle with his own nature. He believed that the principle of the true philosophy of life comes from the study of con- sciousness. The nature of the Ego is the subject for philosophical study. What is the essence of the Ego or the personality ? It is activity, will, vitality ; not intel- lect and changelessness. But can we not get beneath the activity of the personality and ask, Why does it act ?
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 289
Yes, because it ought. When we have said this we have said all. The essence of the vitality of the Ego is moral obligation. Ought is the foundation of life ; it is ulti- mate ground of existence. If we ask why there is an ought, the only answer is, there ought to be. The duty exists that you and I shall have a duty. In order to be, the Ego must act ; and it acts in response to duty. This activity is free activity. The Ego is unconditioned because it is acting out its own nature. Thus when Fichte is talk- ing about the Ego, the ought, the moral law or freedom, he is talking about the same thing in different guises. Fichte placed moral freedom as the central principle of metaphysics and tried to rethink the world of necessi- tated experiences in terms of moral freedom. He at- tempted to construct a monistic view of life, of which the free moral personality should be its inner vitality. Monism and liberty was Fichte's war-cry. Reality is in us ; there can be no reality independent of us. The mor- ally free Ego is the central principle of life.
Such a message to the German people would appeal to two sides of their nature. It would appeal as a meta- physics to the mysticism in their blood ; it would find also a practical response in the humanitarian and revo- lutionary spirit of that revolutionary time. Be up and be doing, for reality is not what people commonly think it is. Your environment is only apparently an independ- ent existence beyond your control. Reality is not static. Rethink it and make it dynamic. Not being, but acting, and free acting, is reality. Such was Fichte's sermon to the Germans of his day. His theory can be stated in the terms of the Greek Heracleitus, " All things change," provided the change be thought of as moral activity. To philosophize was to Fichte to think the
290 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
universe as free moral activity, to see inactivity no- where, to free ourselves from dualism and to participate in the universal freedom. Freedom is higher than truth. Existence is derived from thought in action, and thus our existence and our environment may be shaped by us. Thought is essentially action, and we shall educate the world only through our own activity.
The Moral World. Fichte had a jjhilosophy, the prin- ciples of which he repeated over and over again as a kind of habit. He was a man of few but great ideas. He was inspired by some general conceptions which he did not carefully elaborate. His philosophy can be ex- pressed in few words, and his point of view is not diffi- cult to feel. Nevertheless, there is great difficulty in re- stating his meaning. He maintained that Kant's early philosophy was not truly Kantian, and that he, Fichte, represented the true Kant. In taking this stand he was obliged to do two things : to explain away the thing-in- itself, and to rethink the world of necessitated nature in terms of the activity of the morally free Ego.
If we start from the heart of existence — the active Ego — the world spreads out before us as a system of reason which has been created by the activity of the Ego. On this account Fichte's philosophy has been called sub- jective idealism. In such a scheme of things there is no place for the Kantian thing-in-itself. All Being is only an extended product of the active Ego and the object of its knowledge. The Ego acts because it must, and then reflects upon its activity. Its knowledge of its activity is in grades from sense-perception to complete know- ledge. Now Kant had referred sensations to the thing- in-itself as their source. But this is unnecessary, since sensations are only the activity of the Ego. Sensations
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 291
are the groundless, free act of the Ego. They appear to be " given," because they appear to be foreign and coming from without. They are, however, only the low- est form of the activity of the personality — they are unconscious self-limitation of the Ego. The sensations have no ground that determines them, but as the lowest form of the activity of the Ego they are absolutely free. Thus the thing-in-itself becomes superfluous, since it is not necessary to account for sensations.
The next task for Fichte is to rethink the series of necessitated events of physical nature. If we will look at these events from the point of view of the willing Ego, which is reality, they will be seen to be products of purposive action. Together they will make a world of connected rational activities rather than a mechanical system. The necessity in nature is not causal, but tele- ological. It is not the necessity linking the series of events together, but rather the linking of each event to the acting Ego, and thus the connecting of the whole series. Take the idealist's position and this illuminating thought will come to you : a thing is not because something else is, but in order that something else may be. As moral beings we have tasks. As moral beings we are the im- personation of duty, and duty is reality. These phe- nomena that so trouble us because we think them neces- sitated are only contingent upon the performance of our duty. The existence of one thing is not to be explained by the existence of another, but by the existence of me, an Ego. Phenomena are little steps toward great ends. When I rethink the world I see no causal relationship, but the teleological means for the achievement of pur- poses by striving souls. History and nature — these are the material created by human beings for their own
292 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
activity. We not only create our human drama, but we create also the stage upon which it is performed. Being is not the cause of Doing, but Being is created for the sake of Doing. Whatever is, is to be explained by what ought to be. " The world is the theatre of moral action." "Nature is the sensible material of duty."
God and Man. If Fichte regarded the human per- sonality from this moral height, he would naturally give a new meaning to God, the absolute reality. God is not a substance, a something that "is." God is the univer- sal moral process, the moral world-order. God is the Universal Ego, a free, world-creating activity. God was conceived by Fichte as Matthew Arnold's " something not ourselves that makes for righteousness." When I find in myself that duty is reality and net this or that fixed and crystallized tbing, when I find that my real self is moral functioning and not a tangible form of flesh and bones, then I take the next step. I then find that God is universal duty, universal moral functioning, in which I am participating. We are not only part of God — yea, we are He. As the Holy Writ says, " Ye are Gods." The absolute Ego manifests Itself in our poor finite Egos. How dignified our humble lot is made by thinking that in our acting, God is acting ! We are fighting God's battle, and His victory is not won ex- cept as we win. Duty in us is the clarion voice of God, and we are persons so far as we express that voice. It matters little whether I speak of my own duty or the moral purpose of the world. They are the same thing.
This enjoined labor upon every rational soul to per- form his duty of reaching high ideals, through his hum- ble tasks, of " fighting the good fight and keeping the faith," is to Fichte the meaning of coming to a con-
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 293
sciousuess of one's self. What is myself, my real self? It is not this phenomenal existence with its appearance of necessity. It is the eternal and everlasting duty within me. What is it to think myself ? It is to think my duty ; and to think duty is to think God. When I come to consciousness of myself, the cosmic order is coming so far to self-consciousness. Reality is so far attained. His- tory is the record of this process of the moral order coming to self-consciousness.
In his later teaching Fichte succumbed to the victori- ous Spinozism of the period. He conceived God as an Ego whose infinite impulse is directed toward Himself ; he conceived finite things as products of this infinitely active consciousness. The finite products find their vocation in imitating the infuiite producer, which imitation consists not in the activity of producing other finite things through the categorical imperative, but in the " blessed life " of sinking into the infinite.
What a Moral Reality involves. Since reality is this process of moral development, its conditions will arise out of itself and be its own creation. Since the world is reason coming to itself, it must develop its own condi- tions out of its original task. All the acts of history must be explained as the original " deed-act," as Fichte calls it. Fichte thought that the whole business of philoso- phy consists in showing what is involved in this original "deed-act" of consciousness, this attempt of conscious- ness to think itself. Since self-consciousness is reality, this will be the same as showing what reality involves.
1. In the first place, consciousness always involves the consciousness of something else. To use Fichte's technical language, the Ego posits itself (since it is a moral process) and in the same act it posits a non-Ego
294 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
(which is the necessary object of consciousness). " The absolute Ego asserts a distinguishable Ego against a distinguishable non-Ego." It is like a boy who feels the call to become a lawyer. He asserts himself in that call, and at the same time in that assertion he creates his life's career. His career in the law is his non-Ego. Both the Ego and the non-Ego are creations of that absolute Ego, which is the ever surging duty or God. While both the Ego and the non-Ego are the creations of that absolute Ego, which is cosmic duty or God, yet each limits the other. Ego and non-Ego are correlative terms ; both originate in the free act of God. The world is, therefore, the creation of the real self as the condition of its own activity. It even creates its sensations as the given materials of its knowledge. The world is the ma- terial of duty put into sense forms. While we create matter in order that we may be active in it, the spatial and temporal forms, its categories, limit our activities. 2. In the second place, this awakening of the Ego to a consciousness of itself involves a curious contradiction. Duty is by nature contradictory. Duty calls me to know myself and to perform my task, and yet in that call duty prevents the task from being performed. In attempt- ing to know duty completely I am always under the condition of an opposing and limiting non-Ego. The non-Ego is essential to the Ego and at the same time thwarts the Ego's full knowledge of itself. So long as the non-Ego exists, no complete knowledge of myself is possible. A limiting non-Ego makes the Ego limited, and therefore prevents complete knowledge and fulfillment of duty. Duty calls upon us to perform a task, but under conditions such that it cannot be performed. So long as the boy strives in his legal profession, duty appears ; but
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 295
BO long is duty rendered incomplete. Moral progress is endless, but that only shows how contented we must be with the process of striving and not with some static con- dition. To strive morally is reality ; the goal is nowhere. The contradiction is seen in the eternal contrast between what is and what ought to be, between the moral task and the actual performance. We are under the require- ment to perform, and in the requirement is the restraint. The dialectic process is endless. First there is the stage which Fichte caUs the Thesis in the call of the absolute Ego. The next stage is the Antithesis, seen in the mu- tually limiting Ego and non-Ego. The next stage is the Synthesis, in which some accomplishment is gained, but which becomes only the Thesis for another Antithesis; and so on infinitely. The terms Thesis, Antithesis, and Synthesis are important, for they are employed by Fichte's successors, Schelling and Hegel.
Romanticism.* " We seek the plan of nature in the outside world. We ourselves are this plan. Why need we traverse the difficult roads through physical nature ? The better and purer road lies within our own mind." (Novalis.)
Romanticism was a great European movement which lasted about a century from 1750 to 1850 ; and it would be perfectly justifiable to speak of the intellect- ual period in Germany from Lessing to Heine as Ro- manticism. Rousseau and the French Revolutionists, Ossian, Scott, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, Keats, and Wagner were in the forefront of this world- wide movement. The Storm and Stress Period was a
* Read Beers, History of Romanticism in Eighteenth Centtiry, pp. 1-25 ; Beers, History of Romanticism in Nine- teentli Century, pp. 132-139.
296 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
phase of it ; and so even was the Period of Classicism that followed. Goethe and Schiller were Romanticists, and Classicism was only an episode in their lives. The Period of German Classicism (1787-1805) was differ- ent from the Classicism of the seventeenth century, be- cause it was thoroughly infected with Romantic germs. If one is to take account of the different phases of German thought after Lessing, one mentions first the Storm and Stress Period, then Classicism, and then the Romantic movement proper from 1795 to 1850. Some of the literary names connected with the Romantic move- ment have already been mentioned, — Richter, Tieck, Wackenrode, Novalis, the Schlegels, Schiller, and Goethe. Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel are the philoso- phers of this Romantic movement and embody its spirit in different degrees. The true philosophical exponent of it is Schelling.
Romanticism is an accidental and inadequate name for this world-wide literary and philosophical move- ment. In general it means the exalting of the individ- ual, " who admits no law above himself." The Roman- tic individuality is dominated by unrestrained fancy, is animated by feeling and passion, and prefers the vague and mystical to the clear and defined. In literature Romanticism is contrasted with Classicism. The Class- icist emphasizes the type, the Romanticist the individ- ual. The Classicist defers to traditional form and law ; the Romanticist has no common canon even with other Romanticists except the right to disagree. The only common principle among Romanticists is subjective — the truth of the individual intuitions, which in the case of the historical Romanticists found expression in the play of fiercely egoistic wills seeking self-realization.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 297
The historical Romantic movement was a passionate and mighty reaction against the previous shallow intellectual life with its narrow conventions. Romanticism was a revolt against the period of the Enlightenment, which scorned what it could not define. These Romanticists were discontented with typical ideas and with logical reasoning about them. They challenged the universe, because it was not obedient to their egoistic cravings.
It is very clear what the dangers as well as the great- ness of this German Romanticism were. The dangers of the movement lay within itself, in its aristocratic exclu- siveness, its reluctance to face the forces of evil, its lack of strength and of firmness of character. Yet the age itself may be largely responsible for these. Its strength lay also within, in its deepening of self-consciousness, in its rejuvenating and ennobling the whole expanse of being, in its intellectual conception of man's most inti- mate relations to himself, to his companions, and to the world around him. Sometimes, indeed, the spiritual force of this small band shows itself quite capable of strong action in the outer world. Napoleon himself as- cribed his downfall not primai'ily to diplomacy or to the bayonet, but to the resistance of the German Ideologists.
Goethe as a Romanticist. We have already spoken of the resurrection of Spinoza's doctrine and its accept- ance as a model by this time. The Romanticists, fol- lowing Spinoza, conceived of nature as a unity in which the divine manifests itself in its fullness. Nature is Reason in Becoming. So fitting, indeed, for the time was Spinoza's pantheism that Goethe, the literary ex- ponent of the period, made it the central principle of his poetic thought. Goethe can be understood only as the Romantic Spinoza. The philosophy that underlies
298 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Goethe's work is noted here as an example of the Ro- mantic movement.
Like all the Romantic philosophy, Goethe's philoso- phy was a personal revelation, and not a formulated doctrine for universal application. Like all the Ro- manticists, Goethe was a highly strung personality, and his philosophy was conceived to be true by himself only for himself. He did not look upon the trivialities and the conventions of life as mere limitations of his per- sonality, but as a fall from truth. Truth is realized by man when he is in vital interchayige with the universe. Therefore Goethe was in full agreement v/ith Spinoza in longing for emancipation from human littleness and in his desire for the infinite. Goethe differed from Spinoza's pantheism in his own way ; for Goethe con- ceived man to have an independent function in the in- finite. Man makes his contribution to history and does not merely passively appropriate the products of the world around himself. Man reacts vipon the world, he resists it, and becomes alive to the joy of it.
To Goethe the world had a sotaI, because the world gives clearness to the human soul. Nature shows how closely she is related to us by disclosing to us her in- most sold. Here in Goethe is a mysticism in modern garb, an artistic view of life. Besides, the world ex- presses human experiences on a large scale, and the way to nature's heart is not to go behind nature-phe- nomena, but through them. The facts of nature are real, a,nd our own life is like nature. Both move in pre. scribed orbits, but both are empty if the connection be- tween them is severed. AVe find therefore the secret of our life by returning to nature, and this is a return to the spiritual whole of things. At different times Goethe
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 299
was pantheist, naturalist, and tlieist. He believed that all finite life is divine, and is a synthesis of opposite forces, in which individuality has a place. Humanity is ruled by necessary types, yet within them the individual is free. Such free individuals take their objects from the world, spiritually endow these objects, and thus make art and ethics very close to nature.
Romanticism in Philosophy.* The Romantic move- ment was intrinsically speculative and naturally had its representatives in philosophy, which is systematic spec- ulation. Fichte and Hegel, but especially Schelling, are the philosophical exponents of the revolutionary spirit of the age. All three were demonstrators in philosophy of the truths and dreams held by ardent souls, but Schel- ling's system reflected the spiritual upheaval. Fichte belongs to the Romantic movement inasmuch as he strives for the infinite, but Fichte separates himself from that movement by distinguishing between con- sciousness and its content. The true Romantic spirit ap- pears in Schelling — the impulse to revel in intuitions, in symbolism, to run riot first in nature and art, and afterwards in religion. The Romantic philosophers were friends and sympathizers of the Romanticists, living in the same city, sometimes in the same house, and were members of the same spiritual family. But it must be remembered that there was not one Roman- ticist leader with many imitators, but that each Ro- manticist followed out his own line. When we speak of Schelling as a Romantic philosopher we mean that he gives the speculative tendency of the many Roman- ticists his own clearer definition and formulation. The background of Schelling's philosophy is the source of
* Read Royce, Spirit of Modern Philosophy, ch. vi.
300 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
the Romanticists' motives. It may be stated under three headings : —
(1) Man's ideal is to expand his soul until it becomes one with God.
(2) There is no Thing-in-Itsel£. The finite world is only a limitation of the ego.
(3) Man and the nature world are essentially one. Man has a knowledge of nature when he has a know- ledge of himself. In reading his own history he reads the history of nature. The Romanticist drew a veil from the face of nature and found there his own spirit.
The Life and the Writings of Schelling (1775- 1854).* Of Schelling's long life of seventy-nine years, the fifteen years from 1795 to 1810 were the most im- portant productive period. Like Berkeley, he was a many-sided genius, and began to write brilliantly in his early years. He published his first treatise at sixteen years, and before he was twenty he published several essays of distinct merit on Fichte's philosophy, the suc- cess of which led to his call to the chair of philosophy at Jena. All his technical works were written in an academic atmosphere. After 1812 he, so fond of writing, became silent. He even ceased to deHver lectures at the University of Berlin when he found that notes of them were published without his consent. Hegel, in comment- ing on Schelling, said that Schelling liked to carry on his thinking in public.
Schelling and Fichte may be studied together because they are alike in developing one side of Kant's doc-
* Read Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 457-464, 490-494 ; Wernaer, Romanticism and the Romantic School in Germany, pp. 132-143; Rand, Modern Classical Phi- losophers, pp. 535-568.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 301
trine. But their careers were very different. Contrasted with Fichte's life of poverty, struggle, self-created an- tagonisms, long-delayed victory, and devotion to rigorous morality, is Schelling's life of early academic success, prosperity, and romantic friendships. Tlie life of Kant was one of inner development and outward routine ; that of Fichte of early formulated thought and exter- nal warfare. Schelling's life, on the other hand, does not strike us as one of development, either externally or subjectively. It was rather a series of changes. He looked upon his own philosophy as a development, but its linkage is thread-like, due to his wonderful imagin- ation and mobility of thought. With his great suggestive power, he depended more upon analogy than logic ; his argument and his philosophy lie before us as if ever in process of continuous readaptation. Schelling possessed all the fervor and insight of the Romanticists, and all their egoism and caprice. It is even more difficult to characterize his philosophy than that of Spinoza. He was monist, pantheist, and evolutionist ; parallelist, theoso- phist, and believer in freedom ; he accepted the doctrine of the Trinity ; in all this he was the true Romanticist. Schelling's philosophy of nature is intelligible only in the light of the gi-eat artistic ferment of his time and as the expression of his strong artistic personality. His ideal of artistic insight into nature became for him his idea of science. Reality is nature, and nature is a work of art, self composed and self renewing. The endeavor of Schelling was to fashion all human existence into artistic form. At first he looked upon nature as rational, but later be was impressed with its irrationality.
Schelling's life may be divided into six periods on the basis of the changes of his thought : —
302 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
1. Earlier Period (1775-1797). Schelling was the son of the chaplain of a cloister school near Tiibin- gen, and was educated in history and speculative science in the university of that town. After his university education he held the position of tutor in a nobleman's family at Leipsic for two years. During this time he listened to lectures at the University of Leipsic on medicine and physics. Before he was twenty he had published several notable essays on speculative mat- ters, among them The Ego as a Erinciple in Philoso- phy; and in 1797 Ideas for a Philosophy of Nature. These led to his call to a chair in the University of Jena. Schelling was early acquainted with the doc- trine of Leibnitz, but the most powerful influences upon him at this time were Kant and, especially, Fichte.
2. The Philosophy of Nature (1797-1800). Schelling was called to Jena through the influence of Goethe, Schiller, and Fichte ; and it was here that he completed what he had begun at Leipsic — the supple- mentation of Fichte's philosophy with a Philosophy of Nature (written 1798). He was colleague of Fichte and afterwards a helpful friend of Hegel. Jena was then the centre of the Romantic movement, the moving spirit of which was Caroline, the wife of August Schle- gel. Schelling was very successful at Jena as lecturer, and his publications at this time were very many.
3. The Transcendental Philosophy (1800-1801). While still at Jena he felt the influence of Schiller, who had united the ideas of Kant and Goethe into an Esthetic Idealism. Under this influence Schelling re- constructed the Fichtean philosophy of the Ego on a Romantic basis.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 303
4. The Philosojjhy of Identity (1S01-1S04:}. Schel- ling now undertook to put his recast philosophy of Fichte upon the basis of Spinozism. This caused a break between him and Fichte and Hegel. In 1803 he married Caroline, the divorced wife of August Schlegel and the idol of the Romantic circle, and the same year accepted a call to the University of Wurzburg, where he remained three years (1803-1806).
5. The Philosophy of Freedom and God (1804- 1809). The doctrine of ScheUing now became mystical and showed the influence of Boehme. In 1806 ScheUing was called to the Academy of Munich.
6. The Philosophy of Mythology and Revelation (1809-1854). This may be well called Schelling's period of silence, so far as publication was concerned. He who had poured forth his thoughts in print now became averse to publishing anything. He accepted the call to Munich in 1806 and remained there, excepting his seven years at Erlangen, thirty-five years (until 1841). During this time he was much under the influ- ence of Aristotle, neo-Platonism, and the Gnostics. He had first an official position at the Academy of Munich ; then he spent seven years as teacher at the University of Erlangen (1820-1827); and in 1827 he entered the newly founded University of Munich. In 1841 he was called to Berlin to counteract the Hegelian move- ment, and he became a member of the Academy with the privilege of lecturing at the University. He was now sixty-six, and he spent the remaining years in elaborating his system. He died in 1854.
A Brief Comparison of Fichte and ScheUing as Philosophers. We have already spoken of the relation of Fichte and ScheUing to the Romantic movement.
304 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
What is their relation as philosophers ? Fichte's ideal- ism is commonly called subjective because of his em- phasis upon the Ego at the expense of the non-Ego. In non-technical terms Fichte gave no adequate philosophy of nature ; for his assumption was that nature is only material for the reason. Nature to Fichte was only the stage upon which the reason could act. Fichte's keen insight into human affairs blinded him to the meaning of nature. The contribution of Schelling to the philo- sophy of nature was not therefore un welcomed by Fichte ; for he saw that such a philosophy could easily be developed from his point of view, provided nature be regarded as a unity in the service of the reason. In hriej\ the development of Schelling over Fichte was this: (1) Schelling added a science of nature to Fichte's science of mind ; (2) Then he transformed Fichte's philosophy of mind into an aesthetic philoso- phy of mind ; (3) Then he tried in several successive attempts to find a common metaphysical ground for his own philosophy of nature and his recast philosophy of mind. While the method of Schelling was not dif- ferent from that of Fichte, his general motive was dif- ferent ; for to Schelling the universe must not be re- garded as the creation of an active moral Ego, but as having an existence of its own. While for Fichte to think is to produce, for Schelling it is to reproduce. To the investigating mind of Schelling experience and observation are the sources of knowledge ; yet it must not be inferred that Schelling's philosophy was induc- tive or that he derived the Ego from the non-Ego, as if the Ego had been evolved from the non-Ego. These were the days before the modern theory of evolution. Mind does not have its source in nature ; on the con-
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 305
trary, mind and nature have a common source in the Reason. They have a parallel existence and develop according to the same law. Nature is existing Reason, mind is thinking Reason.
Schelling's Philosophy of Nature. Schelling started with Kant's early conception of nature as dynamic — that matter exists through the interplay of the forces of attraction and repulsion. The human organism is the highest expression of such dynamic activity. In the world there is nothing dead. Matter is the lowest ex- pression of dynamic activity ; the vegetable is next, the animal next, and the human brain is the consummation of this process of productivity. Thus matter on the one hand and mind on the other are the two poles of reason in nature. Everything is life movement ; every- thing is the oscillation between two extremes, the inter- play of contrary but correlative forces. In romantic terms, nature is the Self in Becoming. Nature is a liv- ing whole which manifests itself in an ascending scale of rich and varied forces between matter and mind.
Such a conception met consistently the demands of this Romantic period.* The high expectations of the physicists of the previous century had been unfulfilled, for they had not succeeded in obtaining a purely me- chanical explanation of the derivation of life from mat- ter. Darwin was stiU to come. Medicine, which was at that time showing great progress, offered no argument for the mechanical conception of the world. There had, however, been many discoveries at this time in elec- tricity and magnetism ; and these mysterious qualities seemed to repudiate the mechanical theory. Vitalism thus usurped the place of mathematics. Spinoza rather * Read Shelley, Love's Philosophy.
306 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
than Galileo was the model of the time. Nature must be conceived as a unity in which the Divine manifests itself in its fullness.
All these influences appear in Schelling's first philo- sophical undertaking. He states philosophically what Goethe states poetically. Nature is not to be described in quantities nor measured by rule. It transcends measurement. It is to be truly understood only as productivity having organic life as its goal. Nature is rational life, not mechanism. Everything has its logically determined place. ScheUing used the natural science of his time to show how the connection of forces and their transformation into one another were the mani- festation of divine cosmic purpose. The gaps he filled in with teleological conceptions. He used morphology with the same purpose as Goethe. He felt the same need of a deeper meaning of nature than mathematics can give — the need of a rational purposeful meaning. Goethe shows this in his " Theory of Colors " when he looks upon colors not as atomic movements, but as something essentially qualitative. Schelling, too, was not an evolutionist in the modern sense, and he did not regard one species as derived from another. He thought of species in an ascending scale, to be sure ; but he saw in each only the preliminary stage to the next, and all as the divine expression. One accomplishment of na- ture merely precedes another in time.
The nineteenth century looked back on this Romantic science as merely a fit of excessive sentiment that has impeded the modern work of serious investigation. Yet it may safely be said that the nineteenth century has not settled the question, and that nature will always need a rational as well as a mechanical explanation.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 307
Schelling's Transcendental Philosophy. The Phllo- sojyhy of Nature ends with the explanation of sensitivity ; and it is there for Schelling that the philosophy of know- ledge begins. When three years later Schelling was ready to reconstruct Fichte's philosophy of mind — when he was ready to break with Fichte — he was in- fluenced by the great change that had come over the thought of the Jena idealists. This change was due curi- ously enough to the philosophy of the intimate friend of Goethe, the poet Schiller. Here again the proximity of Weimar and Jena was the cause of the reciprocal influence of philosophy and literature. Schelling was the first to give this new thought its philosophical ex- pression. The theory of Schiller is an aesthetic idealism in which the artistic function supplants the moral law of Fichte and Kant, and is the fundamental reality of life.
When Schiller * reshaped Kant's moral philosophy he was not concerned, as might be supposed, merely with aesthetic results, but with conduct, history, and the whole system of metaphysics. The problem always uppermost in Schiller's mind was the place of art and beauty in the whole system of things. So when he tried to reconcile Kant's theoretical reason and Kant's prac- tical reason, he naturally looked to art for such recon- ciliation. What is there that is both necessary and free ? Beauty ! " Beauty is freedom in phenomenal appear- ance." Esthetic contemplation apprehends the beauti- ful object, and yet in so doing it transcends all the trammels and bonds of experience. The artistic ecstasy is freedom in necessity. It is independent of moral as well as intellectual rules. Beauty is as little an object * Read Schiller, Artists; Letters on jEsthetic Education.
308 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
of sense as of will. It does not have tlie quality of need that belongs to sense phenomena, nor of earnestness that accompanies morality. Sense is obliterated ; the stirrings of the will become silent. That which apjDcars was called by Schiller the " play impulse." Toward the education of man Schiller thus offered art, while Kant had pre- sented religion. Art refines the feelings, tempers the sensuous will, and makes room for the moral will. Yet the moral will is not the end ; for art is not only the means of education, but the goal as well. Complete life comes when the conflict between morality and sense disappears in artistic feeling. " Only as man plays is he truly man." The ideal that Schiller formulated for this Romantic age was the " schone Seele." While in the soul of man the Kantian rigoristic moral law exists when sense stands in opposition to duty, the " beautiful soul " does not know conflict because its nature is en- nobled by its own inclination. This aesthetic humanism Schiller expresses for his time in antithesis to Kant's and Fichte's rigorism. Goethe impersonated this ideal in his life and represented it in his works. The Roman- ticists carried this conception to its extreme both in their practice and in their literary productions. Thus they came to stand for an aristocracy of culture, and in them " ethical geniality " culminated. The Romanticist con- trasted himself with the " Philistine " who lives accord- ing to rules. The Romanticist would live out his own individuality as valuable in itself. He substituted the endless play of the imagination for Fichte's moral law, and was frequently very wayward and capricious. This is seen in Schlegel's Lucinde. Schleiermacher the preacher tried to preserve the purity of Schiller's doc- trine.
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 309
In his construction of his own philosophy of mind Schelling adopted completely Schiller's theory of the aesthetic reason in what he called Transcendental Ideal- ism. He looked upon the Fichtean antithesis between theoretical and practical reason as the same as that be- tween the unconscious and the conscious activity of the Self. Theoretically, or from the point of view of the understanding, consciousness is determined by the un- conscious ; practically, or from the point of view of the will, the unconscious is the creation of consciousness. The practical or willing Self re-shapes the products of the nature world. For a tliinking being is not merely a reflector or re-presenter of events as they occur in the nature world — as nature produces them. Thinking man is not merely passive. He re-shapes and transforms na- ture through the freedom of his morality.
But neither the series of passively apprehended events, nor the series of events transformed by the active moral will, is ever complete. Neither as a passive product of nature nor as a moral will is man a perfected being. In either condition man perpetually feels the contradiction, since he is neither wholly passive nor wholly active. The antagonism between will and sense is ever present. Man realizes the fullness of his Ego, when he transcends both will and sense, both morality and science, in the conscious-unconscious activity of artistic genius. This is the highest synthesis. In Schel- ling's lectures delivered at Jena on the philosophy of art, after he had written his Transcendental Idealism^ he developed and applied this theory and it determined the subsequent development of aesthetics in the Jena circle. Kant had previously defined genius as intellect that works like nature ; Schiller had defined it as play-
310 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
ing ; Schelling looked upon it as aesthetic reason and the climax of the philosophy of mind. Art, and not logic, is the instrument by which the reason develops. Artistic reason is the goal toward which the reason aims.
The System of Identity. Schelling published his Transcendental Idealism in 1800. In the next year he published his System of Identity in the hope of finding some common ground for his two preceding points of view. For Nature is not absolute, but is a limited object- ive Ego ; and Mind is also not absolute, but is also limited, although subjective. The Self perceives the ob- ject as other than itself, and in subsequent reflection it sees the object as a form of its own deeper Self. Sub- ject and object, mind and nature, are one in reality. The question then is. Does the absolute Self exist? Yes, but outside the conditions of existence and beyond all contradictions. It is itself the highest condition, the unconditioned condition. But what is the basis of these two antithetical asjDects of life ? The most suitable name that Schelling could give it was Identity or Indiffer- ence ; for other names would imply conditions. In this attempt to construct an absolute Idealism, Schelling shows the influence of Spinoza. Identity reminds us of Spinoza's substance, — a reality that is absolutely indifferent to both mental and nature phenomena, and yet is the reality of both. It is absolute reason undeter- mined in its content. It was this turning to Spinozism on the part of Schelling, that made Hegel break with him and call his Identity " the night, in which all cows are black." Schelling even came so much under the influence of Spinoza as to imitate Sjiinoza's form of presentation in the Ethics. But Schelling regarded the objective and subjective worlds not after the manner of
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 311
Spinoza as independent of each other. On the contrary he looked upon every phenomenon as both ideal and real, and as having its logical place according to the de- gree in which the two elements are combined. Differ- ences are what constitute phenomena ; the Absolute is the Indifferent. Schelling illustrates this by the magnet, which is itself an indifference of opposite poles of vary- ing intensity.
In the nature series the objective factor predominates, and in the mental series the subjective factor. The uni- verse is the most perfect work of art, the most perfect organism, and the best expression of God.
Schelling's Religious Philosophy. Romanticism took a religious turn at the beginning of the eighteenth cen- tury under the influence of Schleiermacher. ^ The mo- tive of this movement was the thought that religious feeling lies below art. Reason can be completed only in religion, by which is meant not dogma, nor morality, but an aesthetic relation to the world-ground, a pious feeling of absolute dependence. It is the feeling of be- ing permeated by the Absolute. Schleiermacher taught in the true Romantic spirit that religion is an individ- ual matter and is different from church organization. Thus in this time of quickly passing shades of imagin- ative thought Schiller idealized Greece and Schleier- macher the Middle Ages. Susceptible as he was to every idea of his time, Schelling embodied this teach- ing of Schleiermacher in his later teaching. With the other Romanticists he expected that the concept of re-
1 F. E. D. Schleiermacher, b. 1708 ; educated in the Herrnhuten in- stitutions and at the University of Halle ; in 1796 preacher at the Berlin Charity ; in 1802 court preacher at Stolpe ; in 1804 professor extraordi- nary at Halle ; in 1809 preacher at a church in Berlin ; in 1810 professor in Berlin University.
312 HISTORY OP PHILOSOPHY
ligion would furnish a final basis for the solution of all problems, overcome all antitheses in an inner harmony, and bring about the eternal welfare of all.
Schelling now no longer called the Absolute Indiffer- ence, but God or Infinity, and he conceived Him as possessing modes and potencies. In the development of this new line of thought he introduced the neo-Platonic doctrine of Ideas as God's intuitions of Himself, and as intermediaries with the world. Later Schelling passed through another change, and this doctrine grew under his hands into a theosophy and a theory of the irra- tional. The influence of Schelling was eclipsed by Hegel after ScheUing retired to Munich ; and Schelling saw his rival in control of German academic thought for many years. But he had the satisfaction in his old age of being called by the authorities to Berlin as the official spokesman against the Hegelian doctrine.
Hegel and the Culmination of Idealism. We have divided the philosophers after Kant into two groups ;
(1) Fichte, Schelling and the Romanticists, and Hegel ;
(2) Herbart and Schopenhauer. In this first group, which we have at present under our eye, Fichte is the ethical exhorter, Schelling the Romantic nature-lover, and Hegel the intellectual systematizer. Fichte's con- ception of Reality is always an ethical ideal unrealized, in whose cause men are called to fight for conviction's sake. Schelling points to the beauty of nature's pro- ductivity as a reality that lies hidden in mystery. Both these theories show profound insight into life and both are expressive of the period in its attitude toward life. Fichte is the type of the Puritan idealist; ScheUing the type of the sentimentalist. Yet both, even from the point of view of the Idealism of the period, were par-
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 313
tial expressions. Idealism was a social movement ; and like all social movements must run its course. It would not stop until it had culminated in a full and systematic formulation. This was found in the philosophy of Hegel. The social forces of the eighteenth century had been gathering a momentum, which naturally came to a magnificent climax. On its political side this move- ment culminated under the leadership of the greatest of all political idealists, Napoleon Bonaparte, in 1815 at Waterloo. On its intellectual side it reached its com- pletion in the philosophical system of Hegel. Hegel died in 1831, and his intellectual kingdom, like the po- litical kingdom of Napoleon, was immediately shattered. But the observer of the currents of history wiU find much significance in the stubborn persistence of the intellectual phase of the Idealistic movement long after its political dominance had gone. Hegel ruled the in- tellectual world of Germany from Berlin for sixteen years after the battle of Waterloo, and his philosophy was officially recognized by the Berlin authorities. This stubbornness of the realm of ideas can be exemplified throughout history, for it requires more than one politi- cal earthquake to demolish a well-organized intellectual theory.
Hegel may be said to have drawn the scattered threads of the preceding idealists into a system. Like them, he firmly grounded his philosophy on the Kant- ian epistemology. Like them also, he sought to find absolute reality by means of the conscious Ego. This only means that all three were idealists. But FIchte's conception of the Ego was only partially formed. It could not be an absolute reality, since it needed to be confronted by a non-Ego in order to assert itself and
314 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
live. Hegel was discerning enough to see that Reason was more fundamental than either action, purpose, or consciousness itself. To him both the Ego and the non- Ego were in essence Reason. The Ego could not know that it had created the non-Ego unless the Ego was in the beginning rational. To distinguish the Ego from the non-Ego, there must be some ground of similarity upon which both are based. In his search for this ground Hegel at first allied himself with Schelling. The bril- liancy of Schelling's thought dazzled him. Then he saw that Schelling only led back to the abstract universal of Spinoza. A mystical "black night " Identity was not actual nor did it explain anything actual. It merely said that the Absolutely Real is unknowable. This is too easy a solution of the complexity of life. Having neither meaning nor actuality, it cannot explain the actual concrete and meaningful things. The Absolutely Real must be a universal, but it must also be concrete. His- tory has been the Reason in its toil and travail. The Absolutely Real must include history and it must be Reason. With Fichte the " deed act" had primacy, with Schelling the aesthetic feeling, with Hegel the Reason as an articulated series of concepts.
Why Hegel remains to-day the Representative of Kant. There were several reasons why Hegel remains the representative of Kant : —
1. He had more learning and ability than the other post-Kantians.
2. His own interpretation was an interpretation of facts. By the other post-Kantians things are not repre- sented as they are, but as they have been transformed. Hegel, however, was a respecter of things as they are. Hegel was possessed of no sentiment. He was a satirist ;
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 315
although a romanticist, he was an encyclopaedic histo- rian as well. He was a philosopher in that old-time sense of wishing to know the nature of things.
3. He was fortunate in his application of Kant's doctrine to evolution. It proved to be the beginning of the movement which appeared later in Darwin. People were going to be evolutionists in the nineteenth century, and Hegel played into their hands and helped evolution.
4. Hegel gave to his philosophy the air of orthodoxy. In the nineteenth century there was a desire for Chris- tianity that was orthodox. Hegel offered no objection to allowing that interpretation to be placed upon his philosophy.
The Life and Writings of Hegel (1770-1831).* The slow movement of Hegel's diction is paralleled by his gradual development in thought. He was the most painstaking metaphysician that ever completed a philo- sophy. While he was lacking in the painful hesitation that made Kant consume so much time in introductions as to have little for the body of his discourses and none for the completion of his philosophy, he was neverthe- less a plodding, careful, and prosaic thinker. As a boy he showed these traits without showing any predominant taste or capacity. " He was that uninteresting charac- ter — the good boy who takes prizes in every class, in- cluding the prize for good conduct." As a man he was shrewd and reserved, overbearing to his inferiors and opponents, and even patronizing to his superiors. He was the type of the pedantic teacher who brooks no
* Read Royce, Spirit of Modern Phil., chap, vii ; James, Hibbert Joiirval, 1908-09, pp. 63 ff.; Eucken, Problem of Human Life, p]i. 494-507 ; Rand, Modern Classical Phi- losophers, pp. 569-574, 583-592, 614-628.
316 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
opposition. Like Kant's, his life was entirely academic, but unlike Kant's, his experience was in many university circles — Tiibingen, Jena, Heidelberg, and Berlin. His thirteen years at Berlin were remarkable, not only for his philosophical dominance, but for his influence in society and court. The official recognition of his phi- losophy by the Berlin authorities was a detriment in the end; for immediately after his death, in 1831, it lost its influence. Hegel had succeeded Fichte at Berlin, and by the irony of fate, Schelling, already an old man in Vienna, was called by the Berlin authorities to combat Hegel's influence. Hegel's followers, after his death, became engaged in angry disputes over their interpretations of their master's j^hilosophy. His philo- sophy was attacked by Herbart. The intellectual world turned away from him to empirical discoveries and the doctrine of evolution. In twenty years Hegel's influ- ence was insignificant, and to-day his name is scarcely mentioned in the lecture room of a German imiversity. His influence is, however, growing and powerful in Eng- land and the United States. Still it must be said that even in Germany no one has so dominated the direction of jurisprudence, sociology, theology, aesthetics, and his- tory (a science which Hegel himself created). Hegel's erudition, his ability to systematize, his power of dis- crimination, are sufficient to explain such influence. The illumination that his philosophy gives, lies less in his metaphysical theory than in his application of it to history and tradition. He won adherents, not by his abstruse arguments that so few can understand, but by illustration ; not by his demonstration of the Absolute, but by showing how that Absolute is what the religious devotee seeks, what the moralist presupposes and the
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 317
historian recognizes. In carrying out his theory in detail he arbitrarily fitted his facts to his theory, espe- cially in the philosophy of nature, the history of philo- sophy, and history. In the realm of pure thought, where conceptual facts are dealt with, this is not so appar- ent. He was successful, for example, in the science of esthetics.
Hegel's literary style is difficult, and his technicahties are almost barbarous. He uses philosophical and com- mon terms with meanings to suit himself. He loves paradoxical phrases, and is pedantic in his insistence on systematic arrangement.
1. Formatwe Period (1770-1796). Hegel was born at Stuttgart in 1770, and in the years between 1788 and 1793 he studied philosophy, theology, and the class- ics in the University of Tiibingen. Among his compan- ions there were Schelling and Holderlin. From 1793 to 1796 he was a tutor in Switzerland, where he made a further study of Kant.
2. Formulation of his Philosophy (1796-1806). Hegel formulated his philosophy for the first time in the four years (1796-1800) of his life at Frankfort, where he was acting in the capacity of tutor. In 1801 he became privat-docent at Jena through Schelling's recommendation. He edited a philosophical journal with Schelling, and the two were friends so long as Hegel found Schelling's assistance of value to himself. When, in 1803, Schelling left Jena, Hegel began to criticize his former friend's philosophy. Hegel was appointed professor of philosophy at Jena in 1805.
3. Development of his Philosoj)hy (1806-1831). 1806. He wrote the Phiinomenologie^ which was pub- lished in 1807.
318 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
1807. The university was discontinued after the battle of Jena, and Hegel went to Bamberg to edit a news- paper. 1807-1815. Hegel was at Nuremberg as teacher in its gymnasium, and in 1811, at the age of forty-one, he married. 1812-1813. He published his Logic. 1816-1817. He was professor of philosophy at Heidel- berg. He published his JEncycloj^cedia, which con- sists of three parts : Logic, Philosophy of Nature, and Philosophy of Mind. This was enlarged in 1827. 1818. Hegel succeeded Fichte at Berlin, where he met with marked success, and where he exercised a very wide influence. When Hegel came to Berlin his phi- losophical theory was already formulated, and his thirteen years at Berlin were spent in illustrating and verifying it in history. 1831. At the height of his fame, he died of cholera.
Realism, Mysticism, and Idealism. It will not be amiss at this point to contrast three of the great types of human thought, — Realism and Mysticism with the Idealism of which Hegel was the consummate expres- sion. The Idealistic Period of European thought is con- fined within the forty -one years between 1790 and 1831. Moreover it is a world-wide movement, the philosophical expression of which is restricted to the German peojjle. Mysticism and Realism represent the civilizations of longer periods and of many peoples. Mysticism is, for example, the attitude of mind frequently found in the IMiddle Ages in Euro})e, and may be roughty said to be the philosophy of the Oriental peoples. Sj^inoza was a belated mystic and its best European exponent ; and against the revival of Spinoza's Mysticism during this
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 319
period Hegel as an idealist took his stand. Realism has been a popular philosophy in all civilizations at all times, and it was the irony of fate that Realism followed directly upon Hegel's long period of dominance as an idealist. Modern science is based on Realism, and so, on the whole, was Greek civilization. In contrast to Real- ism, Idealism represents a few years of history and has been confined to a limited civilization, yet for profund- ity of insight into the meaning of life Idealism is the consummation of human reflection.
Since " philosophy lends itself to extended discourse," it is quite impossible to contrast these theories briefly in more than a crude way. From the mystic's point of view, absolute reality is that which can be immediately apprehended. However, since immediate intuition is always undetermined, the mystic's reality is a very vague and abstract thing, although for him it is none the less real. Such a reality is not usually sought in the "world of nature " ; for nature objects are very definite, besides being very transitory. The mystic's world of reality is within ; therefore God to the mystic is to be found within the soul and is to be contrasted with the unre- ality of the world of sense. There is only one reality, and that is within the soul ; all else is an illusion. Real- ity is gained by direct knowledge and never by the pro- cess of logical reflection. Mysticism is frequently allied with aesthetics ; the love of God is apparently the same as the love for a work of art ; the immediate intuition that the soul has of God apparently is the same psy- chological process as the artistic ecstasy over a thing of beauty. Both result in the absorption of the soul in its object, and in the presence of either all else seems illu- sory. Now Realism is a theory that is more easily defined
320 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
than Mysticism. It is simply the conception of many realities independent of one another and of the thinking mind. Reality is not one, it is a plurality of independent things, all of which are independent of the thinking process. Such realities are not undefined. As in Ideal- ism, our knowledge of them is a definite matter of reflection ; but against Mysticism, such definite know- ledge is proof of their reality.
This can be illustrated by the series 1 + |^+| + |...2. Let the number " 2 " represent the reality or meaning of the infinite series, which, however far extended, never reaches " 2." Let the series itself represent the definite processes of phenomenal nature. The Realist would say that only the increasing series is real, and the " 2 " is an unknowable. The Realist admits that the series is fragmentary and incomplete, but it is quite definite and certainly the best we can do. It is at least exact and scientific ; and the goal of scientific knowledge belongs to the reahn of the attainable. On the other hand the Mystic maintains that, since exact knowledge attains only the changing and phenomenal, exact knowledge is illusory. When we cannot attain the real by effort and sense knowledge, why waste our time in seeking to do so ? Reality is right at hand — in one's self. To the Mystic the infinite series of fractions is unreal, because it is and always will be incomplete. The ideal " 2 " can be got by direct and intuitive knowledge. Thus to the Realist the infinite series is real and the goal " 2 " is unreal, while to the Mystic the " 2 " is real and the fractions of experience are unreal.
Hegel felt profoundly convinced that neither Realism with its definite realities nor Mysticism with its unde- fined goal was an adequate explanation of the world and
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 321
life. The truly real must not only be definite, but it must also be all-inclusive. It must not on the one hand be incomplete, nor on the other must it be vague. It must be both the number " 2 " and the infinite series leading to " 2." A truly and absolutely real must be the explanation of everything that happens, — joy, evil, necessity in nature, every least event and change. In the light of the idealism of Hegel the solutions of the Mystic and the Realist seem to fade in importance, and the problem of life seems to grow in significance and meaning.
The Fundamental Principles of Hegel's Idealism. In contrast with Mysticism and Realism, as well as with the doctrine of Fichte and Schelling, Hegel tried to formulate a conception of the universe that woidd in- clude everything and yet be an organic whole. In what terms can this world of richness and variety, of coordi- nations and contradictions, be conceived as a single whole ? How can it be one and stiU be many ? Hegel saw clearly that this was his problem. The truly abso- lute must be a unity, and still be absolute.
There are two fundamental principles upon which his doctrine rests : (1) The world must he conceived in terms of consciousness. To any one who has studied the principles of psychology, or who has followed Kant's epistemological analysis, it is clear that the only real unities are conscious unities. The characteristic of con- sciousness is synthesis. This is what we mean by con- sciousness, and consciousness is unique in this, (2) The world as a conscious whole must he essentially a world of contradictions. We must accept contradiction and not consistency as the fundamental and explanatory principle of life. In science and our ordinary human
322 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
problems we try to get results that are logically consist- ent. This is useful, but in doing so we do not get a full explanation. We omit in such calculations life's nega- tions and incongruities. But do not inconsistencies and negations and incongruities exist? They certainly do ; everything has its opposite ; and if we will take the pains to observe the processes of thought, we shall find that thought is fundamentally inconsistent. Why do we usually regard thought as a self -consistent process? Because our methods of formal logic are such. In formal logic we reason smoothly and consistently from the pre- mises to the conclusion. If we look more deeply into thought, we shall find that such consistency is made possible by ignoring the inconsistencies necessary to the very being of thought. The question therefore is not, Can the cosmic whole be conceived as consistent? but What is the law of its inconsistencies ?
Let us consider these two principles of the Hegelian philosophy more in detail.
The Cosmic Unity. Hegel insists on the old truth that thought is self-operating within us. Thought be- longs to our nature, yet it controls our nature. Thought develops consequences without regard to the will and demands that contradictions shall be solved. It is not correct to say that we think, but rather that thinking goes on within us. Thought is the life of the world. Thought is a process which embraces all things and pro- jects them. Hegel emancipates thought from all the limitations of human minds. He would make thought objective and transform reality into thought.
Thus Hegel conceives that this self -operating thought within us is essentially the reality of the universe. Thought is the great cosmic undercurrent that includes
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 323
all things in its sweep. Indeed, the universe cannot be conceived as a unity unless the universe is conceived as a cosmic consciousness or reason. The true study of the nature of the world is cosmic logic, and philosophy be- comes in Hegel's hands panlogism, — universal logic. Kant restricted the categories of thought to the hu- man understanding ; Hegel universalizes them and they become categories of the cosmos. For if the reality of the world is conscious reason, the categories are not only the forms of thought, but also the modes of being. The categories are, therefore, more comprehensive than Kant supposed. To use a term from the Middle Ages, they are " substantial forms." They are at one and the same time the forms that mould thought and the stages of eternal creation. The knowing process and the cosmic process are one and the same — one writ small and the other writ large. They are not separate from each other, but are the transformations of one Being. If we would study the cosmic forms, let us study thought-forms. Logic is really ontology ; the study of the genealogy of thought is the study of Being. The real is reason, and the reason is real. By reason Hegel does not mean intuition or even immediate perception, which Fichte and Schelling claimed to be the fundamental principle of the mind. The reason which Hegel is talking about is the concept or general notion. All actuality is the development of the general notion in a necessary and self-creative move- ment. History, matter, and thought are exhibitions of the divine Idea. " All Being is thought realized and all Becoming is a development of thought."
Hegel's philosophy is a monism of reason, — a univer- salized concept, in which everything has its divine place. It is an all-embracing system, moulding every depart-
324 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
ment. Mind and matter are not aspects of a reality which is behind them, but are the modes of that reality. The cosmic reason is successively mind and matter, and not the principle of mind and nature. In Schelling things proceed from the absolute. In Hegel they are the abso- lute. The absolute does not exceed things, but is whoUy in them as their organic unity. Everything is under the conceptual labor of thought. The important thing is to refer all our complex states to the unifying cosmic concept and have one illuminating idea. Absolute reason is absolute movement — the perpetual movement of life. Yet this absolute reason — the reason that refuses to change according to our likes and dislikes — is its own law and goal. The cosmos is the law of reason and has as its end its own unfolding self -consciousness. It is not the purpose of philosophy, according to Hegel, to tell what the world should be, but to recognize its nature as rational.
We must, therefore, be careful to distinguish Hegel's conception of the unity of God from that other concep- tion of Him as a quantitative, single, and isolated unity. An isolated and single Being would imply the exists ence of other isolated Beings. Such an individual would be limited by others and dependent upon them. In technical terms sameness with one's self implies differ- ence from others. A good example of the conception of an isolated God can be found in modern theology ; such a God is a unity, but He is only the greatest of the several powers in the universe. Such an One is not an absolute, for the One to be absolute must be all that there is. Limitation implies something else. Das Wahre ist das Ganze.
But Hegel does not mean by the Oneness of God an
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 325
aggregation of parts, nor does he mean a system or arrangement of parts. An aggregation of parts, how- ever big, is never complete and cannot include all that there is. An aggregation, even if it includes the past and the present, is not Absolute. The temporal series points to something else to give it meaning ; and yet Reality must not stand outside any part of the temporal series. The Absolute Reality must include the temporal series, and yet the temporal series is not in itself Real- ity. Neither does Hegel mean that Reality is a system or society of individuals, whose knowledge and will im- ply one another; for such an organization of individuals also has its meaning in something below it.
The Absolute Reality is a spiritual individual. It is a unifying consciousness, which is self-moving, subject- ive, and active. " It is the Idea that thinks itself and is completely self -identical in its otherness." It cannot be abstract thought like Spinoza's God, for the Abso- lute must be actual. Nor does Hegel mean by Reality merely life or vitality, as Haeckel has conceived it in modern times ; for these, too, are only abstract terms. " It is pure personality which alone through the absolute dialectic encloses all within itself." Reality is an Absolute Cosmic Spirit engaged in its self-discovery and self-appropriation by means of its own movement; and this movement is revealed in art, religion, and philosophy. The Absolute is, as Shelley makes the Earth picture man in Prometheus Unhound^
" One harmonious Soul of many a soul, Whose nature is its own divine control, Where all things flow to all, as rivers to the sea."
The_panorama of history is the progressive knowledge of the Absolute appearing under successively more
326 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPH"X
adequate forms. Morality is the Absolute in ever en- larging social relations. Religion is the Absolute in personal relations to man. Pliilo&ophy is the Absolute in reasoned apprehension of himself. The Absolute is not to be conceived in anthropomorphic terms, but is the world-process realized as an individual self-conscious- ness. It is cosmic consciousness become more significant. It is Being regarded as an individuality and including all development.
The Cosmic Law. If the cosmic unity is a cosmic synthetic consciousness, it must be subject to the law of reason which is fundamental in consciousness. The pro- cess of consciousness is an unfolding. It is an evolution, but an evolution that is an unfolding. Ordinarily biologi- cal evolution restricts itself to the particular type under consideration. It does not take account of the fact that the growth of one type means the destruction of another. It does not view nature in a universal way and consider construction and destruction, action and reaction, equal. It looks upon development as a process along a tangent or like the infinite series of numbers. But the destruc- tions, the defeats, the reciprocal retrogressions, must be accounted for in a truly Absolute consciousness. Evolu- tion is not therefore an upward advance, but a closed circle. The Absolute is not therefore a consistency, but includes contradictions ; and evolution cannot truly be interpreted in quantitative but in qualitative terms, as the unfolding of consciousness. The only way to include everything in the Absolute is to think of the Absolute as coming to a consciousness of itself. The Absolute Reality is the same at any temporal beginning or end- ing. Its meaning is becoming clearer to itself alone. Such clearness appears in the clearness with which the
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 327
categories which are the forms of any consciousness be- come related. The task of philosophy is not to under- stand these forms together or seriatim, but as moments of a unitary development. They are the links in the development of Spirit, God, the Idea, or the Absolute. What is this law of spiritual circular development ? What are the categories of the cosmic Ego ? How can the cosmic organism take account of the contradictions as well as the consistencies of life ? The three necessary categories or three fundamental conceptions of the cos- mic consciousness are " to be," "• to be denied," "to be transcended," — Thesis, its Antithesis, and the Synthe- sis of the two. In other words they are Assertion, Con- tradiction, and Return-to-itself. The cosmic law is the Law of Negativity. It is a dialectic process in the union of contradictories, of extremes meeting, of the equality of action and reaction. In Hegel's hands con- tradiction becomes the very principle of cosmic harmony. It is the struggle of thought to comprehend itself by using its own contradictory and created experiences for such comprehension. " The phenomenon is the arising and passing away which itself does not pass away, but exists in itself. It constitutes the movement and reality of the life of truth." The law of human consciousness is this : Assume the truth of any doctrine. Examine it and you will find it in some detail asserting not only its own contradiction or opposite, but also the relation between its assertion and its contradiction. The truth lies in the assertion that transcends the two opposites. The law of the cosmic consciousness is the same. Any stage of his- tory appears in the conscious assurance of the truth of the principles upon which history is founded. But any such assertion by any epoch arouses opposition ; and the
328 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
next stage in historical development is the assertion of principles that synthesize the assertion of the previous epoch and the opposition to it. The law of conscious- ness drives history to oppose its own self-assertions and then to a deeper apprehension of itself in a higher asser- tion, until it finds rest in the knowledge of the Absolute Idea — that Absolute Truth is continuous contradic- tion. Perhaps Hegel's most notable contribution to modern thought was his emphasis upon the tremendous power of negation and the stimulating force in contra- diction. Spiritual advance is made through opposition. Hegel's Application of his Theory. Formulating his theory in 1800, Hegel spent the most of his literary career in exemplifying it. The Phanomenologie (1807) is an attempt to show the natural history of thought in experience. He shows there the series of stages through which the mind passes, — stages corresponding to logic, to the growth of the individual, and to society. In the dialectic movement, consciousness views the world in an external way until it becomes self-conscious ; then reason is evolved as a synthesis of the two : i. e. of external consciousness and self-consciousness. Reason then develops by continually turning back upon itself into an ethical, religious, and, lastly, an absolute reason. Hegel wrote his Logic (1812) as an application of his theory to thought — regarding thought as consisting of general concepts. Then came \i\B Encyclopoidia (1816), containing his Philosophy of Nature and Philosophy of Mind. In his Philosophy of Nature^ nature is re- garded as revealing the same dialectic as logic, but in the external world. Nature, therefore, stands to logic as its antithesis. The Philosophy of Mind places mind as the synthesis of logic and nature, and elaborates the
THE GERMAN IDEALISTS 329
subject as mind, objective mind, and the synthesis of the two, or Absolute mind. Thus the dialectic of the Logic is repeated and applied to the Philosojjhy of Mature and the Philoso2)hy of Sjnrit. Logic and his- tory are therefore parallel. The content is always the same in both ; and the development is always in logical forms. The Absolute Idea by differentiation with itself comes to itself: (1) in Logic through Being, Essence, and Idea ; (2) in Nature through matter, individual forms, and organism ; (3) in Spirit through conscious- ness, self-consciousness, reason, right, morality, social morality, art, religion, philosophy. Logic is the Spirit an-sich ; nature is the spirit fiir-sich ; mind is the Spirit an-und-fur-sich.
CHAPTER XII
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF
Herbart and Schopenhauer. The main line of devel- opment of the critical Kantian movement was the ideal- ism of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. It was the most perfect expression of the period of German philosophy. There were, however, so many distinct elements in the Kantian doctrine, and these were so loosely tied together by Kant, that one is not surprised to find many diver- gent lines of its subsequent elaboration. It is difficult to classify all these later philosophers. But most prominent in this group stood Herbart and Schopenhauer. Her- bart was a Realist, and Schopenhauer a voluntarist and pessimist. They had a common ground and motive for their respective philosophies, and may be placed together in the second group of the disciples of Kant. They were allied (1) in their emphasis upon the importance of the thing-in-itself and (2) in their strong opposition to the idealist movement. While both published their principal writings before the death of Hegel in 1831, both lived to the middle of the nineteenth century and both represent the reaction against the period of idealism. They speak more for the subsequent nineteenth century than for German ideals and Romanticism. They represented a certain feeling of the time that Kant's doctrine had not received its due at the hands of the Idealists.
Some philosophers had remained true to Kant, but they could not get the public ear until they were rein- forced by the positive science and historical criticism of the second quarter of the nineteenth century. Bands of
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 331
men had gathered to study Kant even while Idealism was dominant. These were not professional philoso- phers, but politicians and others engaged in active ser- vice. Kant himself in his later years protested against his "false disciples." Fries and Herbart, even though pupils of Fichte, were true to Kant ; and turned atten- tion away from idealistic construction to an examin- ation of the psychological foundations upon which the Kantian criticism rested. Herbart was the most promi- nent of the empirical psychologists and physicists who turned away from the speculative tendency back to Kant. Schopenhauer was the early spokesman for that mysticism and pessimism which characterized the nine- teenth century and appeared in the music of Wagner, the literature of Ibsen, and the philosophy of Von Hartmann and Nietzsche.
What discredited Hegelian ism in particular and philo- sophy in general in the eyes of the nineteenth century was (1) the errors of Hegelianism as to facts ; (2) the patron- izing tone of the Hegelians toward scientists like Coper- nicus, Newton, and Lavoisier ; and (3) the refusal of the Hegelians to test hypotheses by facts. The opposition against Hegel was against his principles, his method, and his conclusions. At the downfall of Napoleon the age gave up the hope of reconstructing the world either politically or philosophically. The new spirit was sci- entific and positive. It tried to accept the world as it found it, and to explain it mechanically so far as it could be done. Things are not the creation of thought, and thought cannot change the reality of things. We must observe and experiment, since we cannot construct. We must restore the boundaries of Kant. Yet both Herbart and Schopenhauer were true to the spirit that
332 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
inspired German idealism, for they could not develop their philosophy of education, psychology, or art except upon a metaphysical background. Metaphysics was necessary. It was as necessary a foundation to the Germans as ethics to the Greeks.and psychology to the English.
Johann Friedrich Herbart.* As " a Kantian of the year 1828 " Herbart clauned to have carried the Kant- ian doctrine a step further by disclosing its psycho- logical grounds. He insisted that analysis was the only true method ; and he contended against Fichte that it is impossible to deduce the theory of the world from a single principle. An all-inclusive prmciple may be the conclusion, but not the premise, of a philosophy. Thus his thought moved in exactly the opposite direction from the monism of the Idealists and Schleiermacher, with which he was in constant hostility. Experience proved to Herbart the existence of independent realities ; and he could not reconcile himself with the a priori doctrine of the idealists, which begins by denying the existence of the Thing-in-Itself. On the contrary, philosophy to Herbart had the Thing-in-Itself as its chief concern. Herbart did not see how paradoxical his position must be — how futile must be the results of attempting to know the unknowable. He was impressed with the depth of the problem of existence, and he felt that, if it was to be explained at all, it must be along scientific lines, especially in the fields of psychology and educa- tion. The scientific method of Herbart was mechanics ; his Realism was the result of his method.
Herbart's programme at the beginning of his teach-
* Read Ribot, German Psychology of To-day, pp. 24-67 ; Weber, History of Philosophy, pp. 536-543 ; Dewing, Intro- duction to Modern Philosoj)hy, pp. 230-235-
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 333
ing at Gottingen in 1802 was as follows: He defined philosophy in a general way by simplifying the concepts that underlie the different sciences. Thus he (1) recon- structed Realism, (2) restored the principle of contra- diction, and (3) established philosophy on thesame basis as science. Of all the philosophical schools in the nine- teenth century the Herbartiau school was the most nu- merous and compact. Hegel's attitude had driven many thinkers into science, and the majority of them attached themselves to Herbart for want of something better.
The Life and Writings of Herbart (1776-1841). Herbart was the typical scholar. He was a man of quiet and conservative tastes, and his life was never disturbed by dramatic situations arising out of contradictions in his character or environment. His days were spent in study, lecturing, and efforts for social education. The philosophical influences upon his thought were Leibnitz, Kant, and negatively the Idealists. In his early life he had read Leibnitz and Kant, and before he was eighteen he had read enough of Fichte to be repelled by his doc- trine. In 1796 he was a student at Jena. From Jena he went as tutor to Switzerland, where he met Pesta- lozzi and laid the foundation of his own philosophy. In 1802 he was called to Gottingen, where he became full professor in 1805. In 1806 he published Principal Points in Iletaphysics. In 1809 he was called to Ko- nigsberg, where he published his chief works : — 1813 Text-hook of the Introduction to Philosophy, 1816 Text-hooh of Psychology. 1822 Possibility and Necessity of Applying Mathe-
matics to Psychology. 1824-1825 Psychology as a Science. 1828-1829 General Metaphysics.
334 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
In 1830 he was called back to Gottingen, and he died in 1841.
The Contradictions of Experience. AH the concep- tions of practical life are self-contradictory and are therefore vicious. This applies not only to the concep- tions of unreflecting minds, but also to those of scientists and philosophers. To philosophize is nothing else than this : to free our conceptions of their self-contradictions by simplifying and revising them. We think of the world as consisting of things, persons, relations, and laws ; but such a view of the world is founded upon the fallacy of thinking an object at the same time as one and as many. This general fallacy takes four specific forms: inherence, change, continuity, and selfhood. For example, it is contradictory to think of a plant as one thing in which many qualities inhere ; it is contra- dictory to think of a plant as the same when it passes through many changes ; it is contradictory to think of space as continuous and yet divided into parts ; and it is contradictory to think of the self as always the same and yet as a stream of conscious states.^
The Argument for Realism. This inherent contradic- tion in human conceptions had been a matter of ob- servation by philosophers for many centuries, but it had led to many divergent conclusions. The Greek Skep- tics had long ago observed it, and had concluded there- fore that there is no such thing as reality. To them thought is discredited because the contradictions of thought are insoluble. Truth does not exist. On the other hand Hegel develoj)ed his great dialectic system upon the basis of these contradictions. Is thought self-
1 A discussion of these contradictions can be found in any text-book in metaphysics.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 335
contradictory? Yes. But is thought discredited because it is self-contradictory ? By no means. It is the nature of thought to be self-contradictory, and the highest truth is the knowledge of this. So Hegel, instead of rejecting the conception of reality because thought is contradictory, incorporated contradictions into his con- ception of the Being of the universe. Indeed, he made contradictions the " head of the corner " of his system. Contradiction to Hegel is cosmic law. However, in such a conception Hegel had to give up entirely the prin- ciple upon which formal logic was founded. This was the principle that a thing cannot be different from itself. To Hegel the highest truth was exactly the opposite — everything is self-contradictory.
While Herbart agreed with the Skeptics and with Hegel that experience is self-contradictory, he differed from them in the inference which he drew from such contradictions. In acknowledging the contradictions of experience Herbart did not find himself driven to either one of these alternatives. Philosophy did not mean for him skepticism. On the other hand he was repelled by the turn that Hegel had given to logic, and he refused to accept reasoning as a self-contradictory process. He returned to the demands of formal logic and restored the principle of contradiction* to the place which it had occupied during the Enlightenment. Herbart took as his fundamental philosophical principle that ex- periences are not actual when they are self-contra- dictory.
The self-contradictoriness of experiences shows that they are phenomena and not actualities. It also shows
' The " principle of contradiction " iu logic is the prohibition to com- mit contradiction.
336 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
that they have reality as their ground. Seeming things imply realities as the ground of their qualities ; seem- ing occurrences imply actual relations between the reals. Seeming is just so much an indication of Being. Con- sistency lies behind phenomena. The existence of ap- pearances must be admitted, but appearances are ap- pearances of something. If nothing existed, nothing would appear to exist ; and yet things are not in reality what they appear to be.
Herbart agreed with Kant that we can experience only phenomena. There is also a similarity in the two theories as to the relationship between phenomena and the thing-in-itself. The similarity is, however, only su- perficial. Kant reasoned from the relativity of pheno- mena to the synthetic unity of apperception, i. e. to consciousness in general, while the thing-it-itself was to Kant an unknowable and irreducible remainder. To Kant phenomena pointed to consciousness rather than to things-in-them selves. On the other hand, Herbart reasoned from phenomena to the existence of things- in-themselves. Phenomena jjoint to an independent, objective reality rather than to a thinking subject. While in Kant's doctrine phenomena depend for their existence upon the creative power of consciousness, to Herbart consciousness has no creative power, but itself depends on the existence and independence of a plu- rality of independent Reals. Even the categories and the forms of space and time are not innate synthetic forms. All are the result of the relationships among independ- ent Reals, which are the spring of all activity and ex- istence. Herbart thus gave to the things-in-themselves all the independent functions that Kant attributed to consciousness.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 337
The Many Reals and Nature Phenomena. We must remove the contradictions of experience, if we would get at a true conception of Reality and the meaning of phenomena. The true way is (1) to posit a plural num- ber of Reals, and (2) to interpret the phenomena as derived from the relation among these Reals.
In the first place, a multiplicity of Reals, and not a single Real, is needed to explain the multij^licity of phe- nomena. Herbart's doctrine is therefore a pluralism. He conceives the many Reals to exist, not in phenome- nal, but in "intellectual space." They are not subject to any phenomenal limitations whatsoever; they may occupy one point of space at the same time. Their na- ture cannot be known, but we can say that they have " absolute position." They cannot be limited nor ne- gated, and even their plurality does not mean that they limit one another.
In the second place, Herbart assumes a multiplicity of relations. Why do the Reals appear as phenomena? Why should the Reals appear to be the qualities that inhere in things, the continuities of things, and the changes of things? Herbart is not altogether satisfac- tory in his explanation of this problem. It is the prob- lem of the unity of the manifold, which Kant could explain as due to the synthetic power of conscious- ness ; but such an explanation was precluded from Herbart's Realism. Herbart speaks of two kinds of relations. There are the actual relations among the Reals. Although the Reals are conceived by Herbart as simple and unchangeable, he also thinks of them as " coming and going in intelligible space." We can never know what the nature of these actual rela- tions is. The actual relations between two Reals are
338 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
not essential to either Real, nor can such relations have their basis in the Reals. All that we can know are the seeming relations among things. These are the rela- tions of phenomenal space — of inherence, continuity, and change. Herbart calls these phenomenal relations " contingent views " (zufallige Ansichten^, and looks upon them as having a semi-existence. That is to say, Herbart regards the world of experience as a world of relations which are not the actual relations among Realities, but merely the phenomenal relations, or re- lations as they appear to us.
The Soul and Mental Phenomena. Each Real has one single function, viz., self-preservation ; and inas- much as the Reals " co-exist," they mutually disturb each other. The disturbances take the form of inner reactions on the part of the Real in its effort at self- preservation. Prominent among the Reals is the Soul- real. Like all the other Reals, it is unknowable. We have, however, immediate knowledge of its manifesta- tions in its self-preservation among the other Reals. Psychology is the science of the relations which the Soul- real bears to other Reals. From the conflict of the Soul with other Reals, mental phenomena take their rise. Con- sciousness is, therefore, not the same as the Soul ; it is the sum-total of the acts of the Soul in self-preservation. Consciousness is the aggregate mental states, and is not essential to the Soul. Nevertheless, isolated souls do not think ; they have no states of consciousness. Conscious- ness can arise only in a community of Reals.
Our knowledge consists therefore of ideas, which are the results of the disturbance of the Soul-real by other Reals. These ideas live within the Soul, which is merely an indifference point where they are held together. The
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 339
ideas in turn disturb and inhibit one another, and the description of our mental life is a description of the reciprocal tension of ideas. The tension among the ideas modifies the intensity of each, and consciousness of an idea is proportional to its intensity. An idea is just on the threshold of consciousness when it has the lowest degree of intensity, and is still actual. When it drops below that threshold it is changed into an impulse. The primary ideas are sensations. They are not the images of things, but the primary acts of the Soul in its attempt at self-preservation. All other mental states, like mem- ory, imagination, feeling, and will, are to be described as kinds of tension of the ideas. Feeling and will are kinds of inhibitive tension. The coming of sensations and the interplay of sensations can be reduced to a mechanical law. Therefore, according to Herbart, psy- chology is the " statics and mechanics of ideas," and must be treated mathematically.
Herbart's contribution to modern thought lies in his psychology. Modern thought has not accepted his meta- physics, but it has been influenced to a not inconsider- able degree by his psychology. Herbart gave the death- blow to the old " faculty psychology," and he placed psychology upon the same basis as the natural sciences. The science of psychology was not to Herbart a dis- cussion of the nature of the soul, for that is unknow- able. It is the study of the aggregate of the contents of consciousness. It is not a study of psychical faculties, but of psychical elements. This reduces psychology to an atomism, like other sciences, and thereby frees it from the influence of theology. Thus was the so-called modern psychology made possible by Herbart. Her- bart's theory was also of incalculable value to modern
340 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
educational theory. The conception of the influence of environment upon mental life, the theory of the devel- opment of mental life, the natural method of " prepa- ration, presentation, association, systematization, and application " of an educational subject, the theory of the correlation of subjects — all are founded upon his psychology. Herbart's attempt to apply mathematics to the laws of psychological phenomena was not so fortu- nate. At one time, during the nineteenth century, psy- chologists hoped much from mathematics in their sci- ence ; but the hope has been practically abandoned. In recent years the demand for exactness has been met in psycho-physics, which operates with mathematics in a different way.
Arthur Schopenhauer * and his Philosophical Re- lations. Schopenhauer is grouped with Herbart because (1) both had an especial dislike for the idealistic devel- opment that the Kantian movement took ; and (2) both built their theories upon interpretations of the Kantian thing-in-itself. While Herbart was a Realist, Schopen- hauer was a Mystic •, which only shows how theories, seemingly very different, can have the same source. Herbart's Realism was an interpretation of Kant's thing-in-itself as many realities ; while Schopenhauer's Mysticism was an interpretation of it as one reality. In both theories the consciousness, and with it the reason, were conceived as derivations of the thing-in-itself.
The best approach to Schopenhauer's doctrine can perhaps be made by contrasting it with his pet aversion — the doctrine of Hegel. Schopenhauer was to Ideal- ism what Mephistopheles was to Faust — he turned
* Read Eucken, Problem of Human Life, pp. 510-518 ; Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 629-671.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 341
Romanticism into pessimism. The theory of empirical evolution, which was to be^ highly developed in the nine- teenth century, lay in theoretical germ in the teaching of the immediate followers of Kant. To Hegel the his- torical development of the cosmos is the struggle of reason, which with all its essential contradictions is f utilely striving to come to itself. To Schopenhauer the history of the cosmos is also an endless struggle, although a struggle in which all reason is absent. Hegel could conceive the history of the cosmos as a development worthy of investigation. Schopenhauer, on the contrary, took no interest in history, because to him it could not be a development. To Hegel, phenomena form an in- timate part of the cosmic struggle, since they are the content of the cosmic-reason ; to Schopenhauer, phe- nomena are the surface illusions of an ebullient, unrea- soning Will.
As the first theoretical pessimist of Europe, Schopen- hauer expressed for the nineteenth century one of its most essential characteristics. He got scant recognition during his lifetime on account of the vogue of Hegel ; but to-day it is Schopenhauer, rather than Hegel, who has a popular influence, and is widely read. This is partly on account of his masterly literary style and partly by reason of the content of his doctrine. The nineteenth century was carried along upon a strong cur- rent of pessimism because of (1) industrial problems, which involved many ethical considerations, and because of (2) its breaking away from traditional religious ties. So long as the unbounded optimism of Ideahsm pre- vailed, the world had little room for Schopenhauer's teaching ; but when Realism with its limitations took hold of the nineteenth century, then did Schopenhauer's
342 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
day of recognition come. The popular mind has found in Schopenhauer its best philosophical expression, and representatives of his teaching have been numerous. Among them are Richard Wagner (1813-1883) with his music dramas ; Von Hartmann (b. 1842) with his theory of the unconscious; Nietzsche (1844-1900) with his extreme statement of egoism — that in view of uni- versal evil, the only hope is in the survival of the strong- est and in the virtue of selfishness.
The Life and Writings of Schopenhauer (1788- 1860). Schopenhauer was the kind of genius who is always an alien to the world of men. He lived a long, lonely, isolated life, in which his inherited emotional and brooding nature became more and more cynical and pessimistic. Even in his paternal home he found him- self a stranger. His father pushed him into mercantile business, which he hated ; and after the death of his father his brilliant mother told him that he was welcome to her Weimar home only as a visitor. The doors of all academic circles were closed to him ; and he, in com- menting on it, said that he had failed to get an academic hearing, because the German did not believe in a meta- physics which was so expressed as to be understood. But the cause of his isolation lay mainly in himself. He was neurasthenic and peculiar — the subject of ill-temper, night-terrors, causeless depressions and dreads. With the genealogy of Schopenhauer's family on his father's side before us, who could wonder ? — the grandmother insane, one uncle insane, one uncle idiotic, one neurotic, and his father a suicide. Schopenhauer's own peculiarities were not pathological. He had a genius that blossomed as early in his years as Hegel's blossomed late. He wrote his two important works before he was thirty.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 343
1. Period of Education (1788-1813). The parents of Schopenhauer were wealthy, and in 1803 he traveled with them in England, France, and Holland. In 1804 he entered business, which he gave up the next year on the death of his father. In 1809 he was busy studying the classics, philosophy, and Hindu learning in Weimar, Gottingen, and Berlin.
2. Period of Literary Production (1813-1831). In 1813 he wrote the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason^ in the Thuringian forest, when other German young men were rallying to arms against Napoleon. This was accepted as a doctorate thesis at Jena. From 1814 to 1819 he lived in Dresden at work on TTie World as Will and Idea, which is the complete exposition of his doctrine. The work is divided into four parts : 1. Theory of Knowledge ; 2. Description of the Forms of the Will ; 3. Art as a Deliverance from the Will ; 4. Morality as a Deliverance from the Will. In 1820 he got a position as Privat-docent in the Univer- sity of Berlin. This was the only year of his teaching and was an utter failure.
3. Period of Retirement (18S1-18Q0}. In 1831 he went to Frankfort-on-the-Main to live alone and in re- tirement. Slowly he became known and gathered a little circle of disciples about him. He died in 1860.
The Influences upon Schopenhauer's Thought. The principal influences upon Schopenhauer's thought were three: (1) Kant, from whom he got his transcendental theory of knowledge (he always considered himself to be Kant's true heir); (2) Plato, from whom he got his formulation of eternal Ideas as offering an escape from the Will ; (3) the Hindus, from whom he got his ethical-Mysticism and the confirmation of his pessimism.
344 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Schopenhauer is unique among the philosophers of Europe, because he denied all for which the Enlighten- ment stood. Even such reactionaries against the En- lightenment as liousseau were a part of its essential spirit ; for the presupposition of traditional theology and philosophy has been that existence is essentially a harmony. Schopenhauer, however, appealed to the dis- cordances and the sorrow of existence, and drew the in- ference that fundamentally existence is irrational. For the source of Schopenhauer's unique teaching we have to look, therefore, farther than modern Europe. The preceding modern European philosophers whom we have studied, developed their philosophies from purely Occi- dental sources. Schopenhauer drew from the Orient as well as from the Occident. The Romanticists had re-dis- covered Orientalism. The study of the Hindus had been interesting European scholars since the beginning of the nineteenth century. Schopenhauer, who was introduced to Indian philosophy by Goethe's friend, Fr. Mayer, read the Upanishads in a Latin translation ; and they contributed much to the development of the theory which his own emotional and cynical nature had pre- saged. The Hindus had long felt that the main problem of existence is moral and physical evil. Schopenhauer found in this teaching the statement of his own attitude.
He esteemed the principles of Christianity and Bud- dhism because their central requirement was faith in a redeemer rather than a creator. Christianity had no original metaphysics, but Buddhism on account of its metaphysics had an especial importance in Schopen- hauer's eyes. It was not only a pessimism, but a phi- losophy of pessimism. Our existence is only a blind struggle for enlightenment and arises out of a flowing
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 3i5
chain of perennial re-births. Man needs to be freed from the illusion of existence and released from re-birth.
The World as Will and the World as Idea. In The Four-fold Hoot of the Principle of SuJ)iclent Reason^ Schopenhauer summarizes knowledge as, " The world is my presentation," which is Kant's theory of know- ledge. A conscious subject vitalizes all things. But the presentations have no corresponding reality in the outer world. They are created by my own subjectivity from the " principle of sufficient reason." This has a fourfold root : logic, cause, mathematics, and will-activity. " The world of phenomena is my idea," and in The World as Will and Idea Schopenhauer says, " This is a truth which holds good for everything that lives and knows." Man alone can reflect upon this truth. When man comes to the realizing sense that the world is an ideal construc- tion, he begins to philosophize as to the nature of the reality behind it. We remember that Herbart started from the same proposition. However, Schopenhauer departs from Kant's teaching in one important respect : although he agrees with Kant that the thing-in-itself cannot be understood by ideas or a chain of reasoning, he holds that the thing-in-itseK is knowable. The World as Idea is a world of appearances, but we can know the thing-in-itself by intuition — by " the look of genius." The certainty of this first-hand or immediate knowledge shows how poor our second-hand or mediate knowledge is. For even reasoned or mediate knowledge in its most perfect form, viz., science, is under the law of cause and can therefore reveal nothing absolute. Science never gets below phenomena.
If reason reveals only the World as Idea, what revelation does intuition give of the thing-in-itself?
346 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Intuition reveals the thing-in-itself to be Will. Man finds, first, the Will to be in himself. He finds it object- ified in his own body and in its members. All the members of the body are structures of some function. Every part is the visible expression of some desire. Hunger, speech, locomotion, have their different instru- ments. Will is immediately known to us as the reality in us. In spite of the exaltation of the reason by the modern Enlightenment, is it not secondary to Will ?
For behold ! Let me look beyond myself. The reve- lation of the reality within myself illuminates the reality of the outer world. My Will meets resistance in other things. The everlasting striving of the Will appears in all nature. It appears in the fall of a stone, the crys- tallizing of the diamond — in all the mechanical move- ments of matter. " The impulse with which waters hurry to the ocean," the persistence of the magnet for the pole, the perennial push of vegetation, the motiva- tion of animals, show by an analogy stronger than any proof that the reality of the world is fundamentally Will. All nature is in reality the " World as Will." This Will is always one and the same. Only in the " World as Idea " do differences appear. Will is com- mon to all and is the only reality. Differences are illu- sions, and the reason which exists only in man is one of those differences.
The World as Will and the World as Idea do not stand in the relation of cause and effect, but the World as Idea is the objectification of the World as Will. WiU is to phenomena what essence is to expression. Will is the freedom that is within all things ; and yet all things are determined when they have the form of ideas. There is only one Will, and so the world is in reality
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 347
a unity. In essence all things are the same — in appear- ance they are different. The Will has no content ; it wills to will — to live — to be actual. In the pantheism of the Will the World as Idea is an illusion.
The Will as Irrational Reality. Before Schopen- hauer's time European mysticism had been of one gen- eral type. However universal the character of illusory appearances had been to the European mystics, there had always been supposed behind the veil a rational reality. Indeed, the illusions themselves had been proof of the existence elsewhere of a governing reason. The mediaeval churchman often preached a mysticism, and his exhortation to turn away from illusions of " the world, the flesh, and tlie Devil," was based upon the compensation to be found in Heaven and in God. The ineffable rest in the bosom of God was reason enough for averting the eyes from the passing show of sensuous things. Schopenhauer now presents to the Occident another type of mysticism, and in this there is no re- fuge from illusions. This conception had long been com- mon enough in the Orient. The Unhdiydt of Omar Khayyam, written about 1100, represents fundamentally the attitude of the Persians of his time. " He is said to have been especially hated by the Sufis, whose prac- tice he ridiculed, but whose faith amounts to little more than his own when stripped of the mysticism and formal recognition of Islamism." (FitzGerald.) But in Europe Schopenhauer's doctrine was unique, and he arrived at its construction by stripping mysticism of all its reli- gious elements. Faith and belief are eliminated because they have no reality as their object. Reason produces only a world of illusory ideas ; the Will is a reality, but it is a reality which is only a blind urgency — an
348 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
instinctive blind force. The essence of things is undi- rected striving. Life is the expression of the absolute unreason of the WiU, It is a Will without an object. Nature is the objectification of the Will that perpetually creates itself and is forever unsatisfied, unresting, and unhappy.
" A Moment's Halt — a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste — And Lo ! the phantom Caravan has reacht The Nothing it set out from — Oh, make haste ! " *
The Misery of the World as Idea — Pessimism. The fundamental irrationality of the Will reveals the absolute misery of the World as Idea. The despair of pessimism follows from the very nature of the Will ; for it must be remembered that Schopenhauer's pessimism does not merely mean that the appearances of life are illusory, but that reality itself is irrational. The World as Idea is the objectification of such misery. Willing has its source in want, and want arises from suffering. Moreover the proportion of our wants that are satis- fied is very small. To one that is supplied there are many that are not. Furthermore, while our desires last long, their satisfaction is short and scanty, " like the alms thrown to a beggar that keeps him alive to-day that his misery may be prolonged to-morrow." Our ever-spring- ing wants make lasting peace impossible. The finite world is not adequate to the infinite craving which it contains, and there is no equation between the cares and the satisfactions of life. The greatest evil that can be-
* Read Rubdiydt of Omar Khayyam, FitzGerald's trans- lation, 4th ed., quatrains xlvii-lxxiii ; Goethe, Sorrows of Werther,as an example of pessimism due mainly to environ- ment.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 349
fall a creature is to have been born ; and this is a thou- sand-fold worse in man than in any other. To live is to go from willing to attaining and then to willing again. Attainment means new striving, and the WiU shows " the ache of the not-yet-satisfied." After all is said and done, satisfaction destroys not only the desire, but the satisfaction itself. There is no meaning in life. Pain is positive ; pleasure is negative, and is merely the absence of or respite from pain.
The Way of Deliverance. The relief from misery that Schopenhauer offers is tinged with the grim de- spair of life itseK. It is an escape that he finds, rather than a haven — an escape that consists in giving up all that life means. Why not, then, give up life, since it is misery and torment ? But escape is not in suicide, for the act of taking one's own life is the performance of the greatest act of affirmation of the Will ; and in the Buddhistic doctrine the suicidal soul only passes by re-birth (metempsychosis) into another form of Will. Schopenhauer uses two phrases that have become classic in the description of the two attitudes possible to man : (1) if man is merely a part of the World as Idea he is "affirming the Will to life" ; and (2) if he seeks a way of deliverance he " is denying the Will to life." Suicide is an act of affirmation of the Will to life.
How may the Will be denied ? and since we are in essence Will, the question takes this form. How may the Will deny the Will? This question presupposes a transcendental freedom which may be sought in two ways : one in which the freedom is temporary and the other in which it is permanent.
1. The temporary deliverance of the Will may be found in artistic contemplation (Schiller's disinterested
350 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
contemplation). Art deals not with particular forms, but eternal types (Platonic Ideas). Art isolates an eternal object from out the stream of the world's changes, and places it beyond all relations of time, place, and cause. Art not only removes its object from the World as Idea, but it removes the contemplator as well. The contemplating subject and the contemplated object thus become one, and the subject is temporarily saved, for he is elevated above all desire and pain. This, however, is possible not to the majority of men, but only to those few possessing aesthetic fancy, and for them only at intervals. Music is ranked by Schopen- hauer as the highest form of art, — even above poetry, — and it is not surprising therefore that among the Schopenhauerian worshipers have been many promi- nent musicians.
2. But artistic ecstasy is too fleeting and restricted to offer lasting deliverance from the affirmation of the Will to life and the World as Idea. Another act of transcendental freedom will bring man into more com- plete freedom ; but this act is a viiracle and a mystery^ since it is the complete transformation of our nature. This act must be supernatural, and the church is right in calling it a new birth and a work of grace. Com- plete freedom from the Will comes through moral de- liverance.
This lasting escape from the Will is open to the man who appreciates two facts : that all striving for happiness is vain ; and that all men are alike manifest- ations of the Will. To take this double view of life involves the feeling of sympathy with others in their misery. Sympathy is tlius the only true moral motive and the fundamental ethical feeling. The Will in us is
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE THING-IN-ITSELF 351
moral if we feel another's hurt as our own. But sym- pathy is only a palliative, and it does not remove the cause of disease. The misery still exists, and our sym- pathy has only changed its form. Even though our sympathy goes out to the whole world, the endless tragedy would stiU pass on.
In the moral deliverance sympathy can be made complete by absolute denial, and this will come by asceticism, mortification, and complete eradication of want and desire. The Hindu sannyasi shows the way. This is the mystery of the Will. But Schopenhauer is not quite sure that extreme asceticism can be made effective, since we are full of Will. At the close of his work he says that even if we could be completely ascetic the result would be Nothingness. "In thy Nothing I hope to find the all." Schopenhauer de- spairs of deliverance for himself, but does not count it unachievable by others. Absolute deliverance even by asceticism seems impossible to him. The only hope is that through art and science the Will may be some time overcome.
CHAPTER XIII
THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY *
The Return to Realism. If the history of mankind had terminated with the nineteenth century, the last tendency of thought to he recorded would have been the return to Realism. The abbreviated account which follows of the philosophy of the nineteenth century will explain and illustrate this tendency. Before we set this forth, however, it may be well to define again the nature of Realism. What is Realism ? In general it is the belief that reality or realities exist quite inde- pendent of anybody's knowing them. Moreover, Real- ism has the distinction of being one of the four great types of metaphysical thought. These types are Real- ism, Mysticism, Critical-rationalism, and Idealism.^ In other words. Realism is an attitude of mind possible to a whole civilization. This is what is meant by a great philosophical type. The Idealism of the period which we have just studied is such a type. Although Germany had been the leading representative of Idealism, the spread of philosophical and literary Idealism had been world-wide. All nations had shared in it. But when the great events and the romancing spirit of that period
* 'Read^and, Modern Clasftical Philosophers, pp. 703-708; Weber, Hist, of Phil, §§ 69, 70 ; Eucken, Problem of Hu- man Life, pp. 518-523, 524-553, 559-573 ; Nietzsche, Also Sprach Zarathustra ; James, Pragmatism, Lectures I, IV, VII; Royce, Spirit of Mod. Phil., Lecture IX.
^ Royce, The World and the Individual, vol. i, pp. 60 f.
PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 353
had passed, the reaction to Realism was likewise felt the world over. It is the period of this reaction that we are briefly to consider.
The Character of the Realism of the Nineteenth Century. We have already discussed the nature of the Realism of ancient civilization as it appeared in Plato's theory of Ideas ; and we also have reviewed the varia- tion of Plato's doctrine in mediaeval times. Both ancient and mediaeval societies give expression through Plato to Realistic conceptions — ancient society to an aesthetic Realism, mediaeval to an ecclesiastical Realism. Now in the modern period we find a still different kind. The Realism of the nineteenth century has been that of natural science. The question of the nineteenth century has been. What degree of importance has the scientific conception of phenomena in our total conception of life ? German Idealism had taken up the natural science of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, and had made it a part of a world conceived as cosmic Reason. But in the nineteenth century the conception of the cosmic Reason and that of nature part company. The two conceptions begin to stand in antithesis. Nature is conceived as a reality existing in sublime independence. Democritus wins his victory over Spinoza. There are two reasons for this : (1) The ideas of science are ex- pressed with a clearness and distinctness that is in marked contrast with the ideas of German romanti- cism. Natural science is formulated mathematically and demonstrated in experience, and natural science more- over does not require the labor of interpretation. (2) Natural science proves its usefulness, thereby respond- ing to the imperative needs of the economic changes of the nineteenth century.
354 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
In this modem period the attention of man has been riveted upon his environment. If at any time the man of the nineteenth century has seemed to be interested in man, the interest has really been in man's relation to his environment. The nineteenth century has championed the necessary laws and mechanical structure of the outer world against man himself. The universe has been enthroned ; man has become its serf. Human effort has become slave to its own progress. Work has been apotheosized — work in the outer world, work with the hands. Inventions in material things have multiplied. The nineteenth century has been the period of steam, of electricity, of machinery, of factories, of the enor- mous increase in the number and size of cities, of the minute division of labor. Social and economic rather than metaphysical problems have commanded attention. Not another and ideal world, but this present world, is the one in which the modern man has lived. The sci- ences have been specialized and man has become practi- cal. Hegel would have said of our time that the cosmic Reason had been so engaged in concrete and external realities, that it had had no time to turn within and scrutinize itself. If one wishes to turn back the leaves of history for centuries similar to the nineteenth in their spirit, one will find them in the third and second centu- ries B. C. and the fourteenth and fifteenth of the present era. Nevertheless, there is this to be said about modern Realism in comparison with the Realism of preceding periods — the preceding Realism had been critical, nega- tive in its practical results, and usually an opposition to tradition or a reaction from it ; modern Realism has been distinguished by its positive practical results, its ambition for supremacy, and its shaping of the whole
PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 355
direction of the life of man. It has assumed control of religion, art, and social morality, to the end of the well- being of the whole.
Modern Philosophy and German Idealism. The nineteenth century has been remarkable in the extent of its historical, literary, and scientific productions. It has been poor in its philosophical ideas, when we com- pare it with the preceding romantic movement of the German Idealists. To be sure, there has been much philosophical literature with a great variety of doctrine, but the many personally impressive structures have on the whole been only the re-shaping of former thought. It has sometimes seemed as if some of the philosophic doctrines of this time were about to take original shape ; but none have ever reached it, with the possible excep- tion of the doctrine of historical evolution.
The explanation of the uncreative character of mod- ern thought is found in its relation to the Idealism which preceded it. The German Idealists had conquered the world of the spirit, but in spite of all their efforts the realm of empirical facts remained stubborn to all their romancing. Even Hegel, the greatest among them, had not succeeded in completely penetrating history by his dialectic law. Already in the eighteenth century a Real- istic movement had been stirring in England and France, and had made notable achievements. So the Idealists turned to the study of the facts of life — partly in order to subordinate them to their Idealism, partly because a great interest had appeared in the study of the records of the past. The origin and history of religions, of law, of languages, of art, of institutions formed topics of study within the Romantic circle. A remarkable list of books was published by the Romanticists on these subjects
356 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
between the date of the battle of Waterloo (1815) and that of the death of Hegel (1831). After Hegel died no adequate successors in speculative power came to take the place of the old Idealistic leaders, but the in- terest in empirical science was borne on by many men of genius. The study of empirical phenomena was ex- tended to all branches ; biology and geology, which were late in being studied historically, began to occupy the centre of the stage. In spite of the fact that the nearness of modern philosophical theories blinds us to their true perspective, yet even now we can see that in comparison with the German Idealism the philosophical doctrines of the nineteenth century are partial in their survey of the field. The whole problem of life was be- fore the eyes of the Idealists ; the modern world about 1831 shifted its attention to a critical scrutiny of only one part of that problem. The philosophical problem to the Idealists was the problem of the cosmos ; the philo- sophical problem to the nineteenth century was con- cerned only with a reexamination of the environment of man.
The Philosophical Problems of the Nineteenth Cen- tury. In summarizing what we have above said, we have before us a situation something as follows. Idealism had run its course as a social attitude of mind, and about 1831 the leaders of Idealism had died with no one to fill their places. But within Idealism between 1815 and 1831 there had arisen a great empirical interest in the origins of history, law, philology, etc. Side by side with this empirical interest there had come certain economic conditions that had called forth and rewarded genius in natural science.
Thus we find even before the fourth decade of the
PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 357
nineteenth century two strong tendencies : (1) a new conception of the meaning of history as an evolution from origins ; and (2} a remarkable interest in the natural sciences. The two tendencies modified each other. The historical view of the world exercised a powerful influence upon natural science ; natural science had to be reckoned with in the writing of history. His- tory and natural science were drawn together, but with- out producing a new philosophical conception that would include them both.
From the interaction of these two powerful tenden- cies the great variety of philosophical interests were grouped around two general problems. These were (1) The prohlem of the functioning of the soul ; (2) The 'problem of the conception of history.
I. The Problem of the Functioning of the Soul. With the decline of metaphysics and the reaction from speculation, psychology began to loosen from its an- chorage in philosophy. Psychology, which had been a study of mind, now became the study of the relation of mind and body. The tendency was strong to make psychology an empirical science, and by the use of the methods of science to become a part of physiology and biology. Philosophy has been a nest in which all the sciences have been brooded. Psychology has been the last to attempt to leave the nest , and to-day in some of our large universities it is coordinated in the curriculum with the natural sciences. Deprived of a basis in phi- losophy, psychology turned to natural science for sup- port. Concerning the relation of the soul to the body many solutions have been offered.
Following the Sensationalist, Cabanis, who died in 1808, sonie of the French Ideologists, so-called, con
358 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
eluded that the soul is everywhere determined by phy- sical influences, such as age, sex, temperament, climate, etc. ; some said that the mind is a result of brain ac- tivity ; some developed the conception of phrenology, according to which the shape of the skull determines the faculties of the mind. The French Ideologists dif- fered widely in their interpretations, but on the whole the basis of the movement was materialism. The hypothesis of phrenology aroused great interest in England, but John Stuart Mill led the movement back to Hume's associational psychology. He conceived the psychical and the physical states as two separate realms, and he concluded that psychology as the study of the laws of mental states cannot reduce mental states to physical. So Sir William Hamilton, under the influence of Kant, championed the life of inner experience.
Of course the materialistic challenge of the soul aroused great heat in theological circles. The person- ality of God and the nature of the soul became burn- ing questions, and led to the dissolution of the Hegelian school into "the right wing" and "the left wing." Hegel had always maintained his standing in orthodox circles as the Prussian " State philosopher." Those fol- lowers who composed the " right wing " tried to inter- pret his doctrine in accordance with the traditional theological conception of the soul ; the " left wing " in- terpreted Hegel as a pantheist, in whose doctrine the soul could not be considered as a substance with immor- tality. Feuerbach followed this by inverting Hegelianism into a nominalistic materialism, and conceived the soul as nature "in its otherness." In 1854, at a convention of naturalists in Germany, the materialistic conception of the soul was found to be widely spread among the
PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 359
German physicians and naturalists. But the contradic- tion between the inferences of science and " the needs of the heart " became a subject of controversy, and in 1860, under the leadership of Kuno Fischer, the " return to Kant" was begun, which lasted throughout the nine- teenth century.
There are two names that stand out most prominently in relation to this controversy over the nature of the soul: they are those of Lotze (1817-1881) and Fech- ner (1801-1887). They are names that were conjured with by the generation of American scholars before the present. Lotze regarded the mechanical necessity of nature as the form in which the impulsive mental life of man realizes its purposes. Every soul therefore has a life that consists essentially in purposeful relations with other souls. And this is possible only if the lives of men are under an all-embracing Providence. Fech- ner chose another way to escape from the materialistic tendency. He regarded the soul and body as separate and qualitatively different, although exactly correspond- ing, manifestations of one unknown reality. There is a parallelism between the mental and the physical, in which the mental phenomena are known only to the individual perceiving them. As sensations are the surface waves of a total individual consciousness, so the conscious- nesses of human beings are the surface waves of a uni- versal consciousness. The mechanical activity of nature corresponds to the consciousness of God. We can inves- tigate this correspondence by studying the correspond- ence between our own mental states and physical states. This is the modern well-known psychological method of psycho-physics. We can measure psychical quantities by formulating mathematical laws of their occurrence.
360 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
Out present psychology has seen a development from all these earlier explanations ; but this is a matter of contemporary writing and not of history.
2. The Problem of the Conception of History. The contrast in the Kantian teaching between nature and mind became an antagonism in the nineteenth century. When psychology was no longer a purely mental sci- ence, social life in its historical development at first withstood the vigorous march of the natural science of the nineteenth century. But the inroads of science in psychology were duplicated in the field of sociology, and thus the problem of society was only the problem of the soul on a larger scale.
The first form that this problem took arose from the opposition in France between the traditional conception of society and that of the philosophy of the Revolution. The nineteenth century French philosophy has, how- ever, a religious coloring that differentiates it from that of the Revolution. Auguste Comte * (1798-1857) stands as the chief representative of this scientific re- duction of society. He pushed the doctrines of Hume and Condillac to their extreme in his positivist system of social science. He maintained that human knowledge had as its objects phenomena in their reciprocal rela- tions, but that there is nothing absolute at the basis of these phenomena. The only absolute principle is, All is relative. There is a hierarchy of sciences in which soci- ology is highest. Sociology includes all the preceding sciences, and yet it is the original fact. The first social phenomenon is the family. The stages of the develop- ment of society are (1) theological, (2) metaphysical,
* Read Rand, Modern Classical Philosophers, pp. 672- 689.
PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 361
and (3) positivistic or scientific. All mental life in de- tail, and human history as a whole, are subject to these stages of growth. In the positivistic stage mankind will be the object of religious veneration, and the lives of great men will be justified because they have raised the lives of common men. The democracy to which Comte looks is one ruled by great minds, and is not a socialism. In contrast to Comte's theory is that of Buckle, who would study history by discovering the mechanical laws governing society.
While human history was thus being invaded by nat- ural science and had to defend its autonomy against the naturahstic principle of science, natural science on the other hand was in the nineteenth century invaded by the historical principle of evolution. Natural science becomes a history. We have seen that in the Romantic circle there was great interest in the origin and devel- opment of law, philology, art, etc. In the beginning and middle of the nineteenth century this interest spread to an investigation of the origin of animal life. This investigation has been the most notable in this century, because (1) it included in its scope the source and means of progress of the human race ; and because (2) it advanced a new conception of development. De- velopment now becomes evolution. Up to the nineteenth century the world was looked upon as a graded series of types, but no type was supposed to evolve into an- other. (See vol. i, pp. 180, 193 ; vol. ii, p. 306.) The theory of historical evolution of the nineteenth century is notable because it advanced the conception, based upon empirical investigation, that types are changed into others. This theory, among those of the century,
362 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY
comes the nearest to an original philosophical doctrine. The book that became the centre of scientific interest for many years was Darwin's Origin of Species^ pub- lished in 1859. The name most prominently linked with that of Darwin is that of Herbert Spencer, who attempted to make universal the principle of develop- ment and to formulate its law.
The modern theory of the historical evolution of animal life has reinforced the mechanical principle of nature, which had its origin in the minds of the phi- losophers of the Renaissance. It has antagonized the theological doctrine of creation ; it has related the an- imal and man by filling in the supposably impassable gulf between them ; it has advanced the doctrine of chemical synthesis against the hylozoistic notion of a vital principle ; it has pushed forward with great assur- ance its theories of transformation and equivalence of forces, and of the action of electricity as a substitute for thought-activity ; it has shown a wonderful parsi- mony in giving a value to all the facts of history which had hitherto been conceived as trivial ; and on the other hand it has reduced the conception of mighty cosmic cataclysms to a geological series of gradual gradations. Darwin's place in this movement of the nineteenth cen- tury was this : he tried to show that animal life can be explained without the aid of final causes. In other words, the adaptation of the structure of animals can be accounted for mechanically. The factors involved in the development of organic life upon the earth were, according to Darwin, infinite differentiation, adaptation, natural selection, and the survival of the fittest.
PHILOSOPHY OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 3G3
Now at the beginning of the twentieth century there seems to be a reaction from the scientific positivism of the last century. This has taken the form of an extrava- gant mysticism, although at heart it is an optimism and an idealism.
INDEX
Abbott, E. A., Francis Bacon, 40 n.
Absolute Reality of Hegel, 314, 316, 321,323-326,328,329. 5ee Reality,
Absolutism, spirit of, in Germany, from 1648 to 1740, 217-223; in France, 217, 225; destroyed by Frederick the Great and Lessing, 225, 226, 228, 229.
.SIsthetic Idealism of Schelling, 302, 304, 307.
Agnosticism of Hume, 188.
Alchemists, the, 25.
Alembert, Jean le Rond d', 211.
Althusius, Johannes, 47.
America, discoverj' of, 6.
Anacreonticists, the, 224.
Analysis. See Induction.
Analytic judgments of Kant, 249- 252.
Antinomies of Kant, 264, 265.
Antithesis, of Fichte, 295 ; of Hegel, 327.
A posteriori, judgments, of Kant, 250-252 ; material, the perceptions, 257; principle, in ethics, 271, 272.
A priori, judgments, of Kant, 250- 252 ; principles, categories, 257, 271, 272.
Archaeus, the, of Paracelsus, 26, 27.
Aristotle, represented by two an- tagonistic schools in the Renais- sance, 11.
Art, in Schelling's philosophy, 308 ; and in Schopenhauer's philosophy, 359.
Association of Ideas, according to Hume, 191-193; by law of contig- uity, 192-194; by law of resem- blance, 192-196; by law of causa- tion, 192, 193, 196-199.
Associational Psychology, Hobbes the father of, 50.
Associationalist Psychologists, 141.
Astronomers, mathematical, 32-36.
Atheistic controversy of Fichte, 282, 284.
Atoms, scientific conception of, ex- amined by Leibnitz, 119, 120, 121.
Attributes, according to Spinoza, 95, 96. See Qualities.
Auerbach, Berthold, Spinoza, 88 n.
Autobiographies, many of them written in the Enlightenment, 137.
Bacon, Francis, 31, 35; life of, 39; position of, in philosophy, 39-42; his New Atlantis, 40-42; the aim of, 42, 43; his method, 43-46; com- pared with Hobbes, 48; seems to stand apart, 146.
Baldwin, J. M., Fragrnents in Phi- losophy, 84 n.
Ball, W. W. R., History of Mathe- matics, 36 n., 40 n.
Bayle, Pierre, 203.
Beauty in Schelling's philosophy, 307.
Beers, H. A., History of Romanti- cism in Eif/hteenth Century, 295 n. ; History of Romanticism, in Nine- teenth Century, 295 n.
Berkeley, George, life and writings of, 109-172; the influences upon his thought, 172; the purpose of, 173, 174; general relation of, to Locke and Hume, 174, 175; his points of agreement with Locke, 175, 170; the negative side of his philoso- phy, 176-179; denies existence of abstract ideas, 177-179; the posi- tive side of his philosophy, 179- 183; and Hume, compared, 183, 184.
Blackwood Classics, Descartes, 70 n., 73 n.
Bodin, Jean, 47.
Body, relation of mind and, accord- ing to Descartes, 78-80; in Leib- nitz's philosophy, 126.
Bohn's Libraries, Spinoza, 90 n.
r.rahe, Tycho, 32, 33.
Brown, Thomas, 202.
366
INDEX
Browning, Robert, Paracelsus, 25, 26 n.
Bruno, Giordano, 25, 27-30, 32, 33.
Buckle, H. T., 362.
Buffon, G. L. L. de, 211.
Butler, Joseph, hia Analogy of Re- ligion, 166.
Byron, G. G.,Lord, on Berkeley, 182.
Caird, E., Philosophy of Kant, 236 n.
Calkins, M. W., Persistent Problems in Philosophy, iv, 66 n., 73 n., llOn.
Cambridge School, the, 61.
Campanella, Tommasso, his State of the Sun, 41 n.
Cartesian argument, the, 74, 75.
Categorical imperative, the, of Kant, 273.
Categories, Aristotelian and Kant- ian, 256, 257; of Hegel, 323, 327.
Causation, association of, 192, 193, 196-199.
Chubb, Thomas, 165.
Ohurch, mediseval, 14; attitude of, toward science, in the period of the Renaissance, 19-21, 62-65; ac- cording to Hobbes, 60.
Civilization, of the Middle Ages, causes of the decay of, 4-7 ; mod- ern, is subjective, 15.
Classicism, German, 224, 296.
Coleridge, S. T., and Spinoza, 85.
Collegiants, the, Spinoza's acquaint- ance with, 87-89.
Collins, Anthony, 165.
Columbus, Christopher, discovers America, 6.
Comte, Auguste, quoted on the En- cyclopcedia, 211; his philosophy, 360.
Concomitant variations, the name, 38 n.
Condillac, E. B. de, 212.
Consciousness, ultimate certainty of, according to Descartes, 70-72; implications of, according to Des- cartes, 72, 73 ; in Fichte's philoso- phy, 286-288, 293; in Schelling's philosophy, 309; in Hegel's philo- sophy, 321, 322, 326, 327; in Her- bart'8 philosophy, 336, 338 ; in Fechner's philosophy, 359.
Constantinople, fall of, 6.
Constitutionalists and Political
Economists, the, of the Enlight- enment, 142.
Contiguity, association of, 192-194.
Continuity, law of, 129.
Contradictious, the world a world of, according to Hegel, 321, 327, 328, 335 ; of experience, according to Herbart, 334, 335.
Copernicus, Nikolaus, 7, 32-34.
Cosmic, unity, of Hegel, 322-326; law, of Hegel, 326-328.
Counter-Revolution, the, 17.
Criticism, the Enlightenment a pe- riod of, 138; Kant's method a, 239.
Cusanus, Nicolas (Nicolas of Cusa), 23-25.
Darwin, Charles Robert, his Origin of Species formulated most fully the Evolution movement, 3, 362.
Decentralization of Europe and of philosophy, iv, 12, 13.
Deduction, in the Natural Science period, 19, 21, 35; defined, 35 n. ; use of, according to Galileo, 37; according to Bacon, 40, 46; accord- ing to Descartes, 70, 72, 73; use made of, by the followers of Des- cartes, 81.
Deed-act of Fichte, 293.
Deism, and Hume, 200; of Voltaire, 210.
Deists, the English, 141, 164-166; the German, 142.
Descartes, Ren6, 31, 35; compared with Hobbes, 48, 49 ; the mental conflict in, 65, 66; life and philo- sophical writings of, 66, 67; the two conflicting influences upon the thought of, 67-69; the method of, 69, 70; the great contribution of, an absolute principle, 70; in- duction, provisional doubt, ulti- mate certainty of consciousness, according to, 70-72; deduction, im- plications of consciousness, ac- cording to, 70, 72, 73; his proofs of tlie existence of God, 73-75; the reality of matter, according to, 75- 77; his view of the relation of God to the world, 77; of God to mat- ter, 77, 78; of God to minds, 78; of mind and body, 78-80; influence of, 80, 81; relation of the Occa- sionalists and Spinoza to, 81-84;
INDEX
367
his influence on Spinoza, 87; his influence on Locke, 145, 146, 152.
Determinism, 53.
Dewing, A. S., Introduction to Mod- ern Philosophy, iv, 8 n., 332 n.
Diderot, Denis, 211.
Difl'erential calculus, discovered by Leibnitz, 112, 114, 119.
Discoveries. See Inventions.
Dogmatism, defined, 187.
Doubt, provisional, of Descartes, 70-72.
Dualism, Cartesian, of mind and matter, assumed in the Enlight- enment, 135; of Berkeley, 179; formed the background of Kant's thought, 232.
Dualists, 174 n.
Duty, according to Fichte, 289-295.
Eclecticism revived by Renaissance scholars, 11.
Edwards, Jonathan, 171.
Ego, the, of Kant, 260, 263, 264; of Fichte, 288-295, 313; of Schelling, 304, 309 ; of Hegel, 313, 314.
Empiricism, begun by Locke, 61 ; de- fined, 61 n. ; in the Enlightenment, 137; of Berkeley, 174; of Hume, 189; of the nineteenth century, 355-357, 361, 362.
Encyclopaedists, the, of the Enlight- enment, 142, 211, 212.
England, in the Natural Science period, 17, 21, 31 ; the Natural Sci- ence movement in, 46; the Renais- sance in, after Hobbes, 61; the Enlightenment in, 140, 145-147; comparison of the French Enlight- enment with the Enlightenment in, 204, 205; influence of, in France, in the Enlightenment, 206, 207.
Enlightenment, the, the second pe- riod of modern philosophy, 2, 3; general treatment of, 132-143; be- gins when the " new man "tries to understand his own nature, 132; the practical presupposition of, 134 ; the metaphysical presupposi- tion of, 135; the problems of, 135- 140; the period of empirical psycho- logy, autobiographies, and Meth- odism, 137; a period of criticism, 138; a period of remarkable changes in the political map of
Europe, 139; a comparison of, in England, France, and Germany, 140, 204, 205; the many groups of philosophers in. 140-143; birth- places of influential thinkers of (map),144 ; in Great Britain, 145-147 ; in France, 203-216; the situation in, in France, 203-206; the English influence in, in France, 206, 207; the two periods of, in France, 207, 208; the intellectual (Voltaire, Montesquieu, the Encyclopae- dists), 208-212; the social (Rous- seau), 213-216 ; in Germany, 216-229 ; the inti'oductory period (absolut- ism), 217-223; sources of, 218-223; the literary, in Germany, summary of, 223, 224; the political (Freder- ick the Great), 224-226; the course of, in Germany, 226-228; Lessing, 228, 229.
Epicureanism revived by Renais- sance scholars, 11.
Epistemology, of Locke, 155, 156, 158, 160-162; of Kant, 238, 239. See Knowledge.
Erdmann, J. E., on the Enlighten- ment, 133.
Eternity in Spinoza's philosophy, 105, 106.
Ethics, of Spinoza, 102-106; of Hume, 200, 201 ; of Kant, 269-277.
Eucken, Rudolf, Problem of Human Life, iv, 8 n., 23 n., 40 n., 47 n., 66 n., 84 n., 107 n., 147 n., 183 n., 203 n., 223 n., 236 n., 282 n., 300 n., 315 n., 340 n., 352 n.
Evil in Leibnitz's philosophy, 130.
Evolution, principle of, 3, 361, 362.
Experience, contradictions of, ac- cording to Herbart, 3,34, 335.
Extension, the essence of matter, according to Descartes, 77, 82; in Spinoza's philosophy, 93, 95, 96, 102.
Faith philosophy, Herder a writer
on, 143. Falckenberg, Richard History of
Modern Philosophy, iv, 26 n., 36 n.,
47 n., 55 n., 70 n., 73 n. ; quoted, 274,
275. Fechncr, G. T., 359. Feuerbach, L. A., 358. Fichte, J. G., and Schelling and
368
INDEX
Hegel, what they sought, 279, 281, 312; life and writings of, 282-285; the inilueuces upon his teaching, 285, 28G; his two kinds of ideas, 286; the moral awakening, accord- ing to, 287, 238 ; the central prin- ciple in his philosophy, 288-290; the moral world of, 290-292; God and man, in the philosophy of, 292, 293; what a moral reality in- volves, according to, 293-295; his relation to Romanticism, 299; and Schelling, a brief comparison of, as philosophers, 303-305.
Fischer, Kuno, Descartes and his School, 70 n.; leads the " return to Kant," 359.
FitzGerald, Edward, his translation of the Jiubdnjdt, 347, 348.
Force, fundamental ground of mo- tion, according to Leibnitz, 119, 120; identified with the metaphys- ical atom by Leibnitz, 121 ; the word, as used by Leibnitz, squints toward physics and psychology, 122.
France, in the Natural Science pe- riod, 17, 21, 31 ; the Enlightenment in, 140, 203-216; the situation in, in the Enlightenment, 203-206; the English influence in, 206, 207; the two periods of the Enlightenment in, 207, 208; the intellectual En- lightenment (Voltaire, Montes- quieu, the Encyclopsedists) in, 208-212; the social Enlightenment (Rousseau) in, 213-216; absolutism in, 217.
Francke, A. H., 220.
Frederick the Great, 223-226.
Freedom, Spinoza's conception of, 104 ; according to Locke, 154, 155 ; Kant's idea of, 270; the postulate of, according to Kant, 276; accord- ing to Fichte, 289, 290; and God, Schelling's philosophy of, 303; transcendental, of Schopenhauer, 349-351.
Galilei, Galileo, 31-33, 35-39.
Gama, Vasco da, discovers all-sea route to India, 7.
Gassendi, Pierre, was author of the introduction of Greek atomism into modern thought, 120.
I Geneva, new religious centre in the Renaissance, 12.
Geometrical Method and its Oppo- I nents in the Enlightenment, 142.
German Idealism and modern phi- i losopliy, 355, 350. j German Idealists, places connected with (map), 280 ; treated, 278-.329.
German literature a factor in the Enlightenment, 218, 210, 223.
German Philosophy, the third period of modern philosophy, 3; treat- ment of, 230-329; the three charac- teristics of, 231, 232; the two pe- riods of, 232, 233.
Germany, in the Renaissance, 12, 16, 17, 21, 31 ; the Enlightenment in, 140, 216-229; the introductory pe- riod (absolutism), 217-223; summary of the literary Enlightenment in, 223, 224; the political Enlighten- ment in (Frederick the Great), 224-226; the course of the Enlight- enment in, 22G-228; Lessing, 228, 229; the convergence of philoso- phical influences in, 230, 231.
Geulincx, Arnold, 63, 83.
Gibbon, Edward, quoted, 138.
God, in the philosophy of Cusanus, 25; in Bruno's philosophy, 28-30; Descartes' proofs of the exist- ence of, 73-75; relation of, to the world, to matter, and to minds, according to Descartes, 77, 78; in the philosophy of the Occasion- alists, 83 ; in Spinoza's philosophy, 91-106; in Leibnitz's philosop'hy, 126. 127, 130, 131 ; in the Enlighten- ment, 135; in Berkeley's philoso- phy, 181-183; in Hume's philoso- phy, 200; in Voltaire's philosophy, 210; the idea of, according to Kant. 261, 265-268 ; the ])ostulate of the existence of. according to Kant, 276, 277; iu Ficlite's j)hi!oso- phy, 292, 293; in Schelling's philo- sophy, 300; and freedom. Schel- ling's philosophy of. 3n. 312; of the Mystic, 319; in Hegel's philosophy, 324; according to Fechner, 359.
Goethe, J. W von, Faust, 25, 20 n., 85 n.; and Spinoza, 84, 85; de- scribes the Enlightenment as an age of self-conceit, 134; prominent in the Storm and Stress movement,
INDEX
369
227; as a Romanticist, 297-299; and Scheliing, tiieir pliilosophy, 306.
Gottsclied, J. C, 219, 22;i, 29-4.
Grace, world of. See World of grace.
Great Britain, the Enliglitenuieut in, 145-147. See England.
Greek, language and literature, study of, before and in the Renais- sance, 10-14, 16.
Greeks, the, naturalism of, recov- ered in the Renaissance, 14.
Grotius, Hugo, 47.
Gunpowder, discovery of, 6.
Hamilton, Sir William, 202, 358.
Hardenberg, Friedrich von (Nova- lis), on Spinoza, 92; quoted, 295.
Hartmann, K. R. E. von, 342.
Harvey, William, 35.
Hegel, G. W. F., German philoso- phy ends with, 3 ; and Fichte and Scheliing, what they sought, 279, 281, 312 ; comment of, on Scheliing, 299; and the culmina- tion of Idealism, 312-314; wliy he remains to-day the represent- ative of Kant, 314, 315; life and writings of, 315-318; the funda- mental principle of his idealism, 321, 322 ; the cosmic unity of, 322- 326; the cosmic law of, 326-328; his application of his theory, 328, 329 ; basis of the opposition against, 331, 332; and Schopen- hauer, compared, 340, 341 ; liis philosophy, how interpreted by his followers, 358.
Heidelberg, University of, 12.
Herbart, J. F., as a follower of Kant, 330-3.32 ; turns to the thing-in-itself , 332; his programme at the begin- ning of his teaching, 332, 333; life and writings of, 333, 334; his con- tradictions of experience, 334 ; his argument for realism, .334-330 ; the many reals and nature p!ir>nomena, according to, 337, 333 ; the soul and mental phenomena, according to, 338-340.
Herbert of Cherbury, 1C5.
Herder, J. G. von, brought into cur- rency the word " humanity," 133; promini/nt in the Storm and Stress movement, 227 ; true interpreter of Leibnitz, 228.
Hibben, J. G., Philosophy of En- lightenment, 107 n., 119 n., 132 n., 179 n. ; quoted on Berkeley, 180.
History, conception of, in the nine- teenth century, 357, 360-363.
Hobbes, Thomas, 31 , 35, 36 ; a political theorist, 47 ; forerunner of modern materialism, 48, 49 ; compared with Bacon, 48 ; compared with Des- cartes, 48; life and writings of, 49, 50 ; the influences upon the thought of, 50-52 ; his mission, to construct a mechanical view of the world, 52 ; the fundamental principle in the teaching of, 52-54 ; the method of, 54, 55 ; kinds of bodies, according to, 55, 56; his application of the mathematical theory to psycho- logy; 50-58 ; to politics, 58-00 ; his Leciathan, 60 ; and Descartes and Locke, 145, 146 ; began the school of English Moralists, 167, 108.
Hoffding, Harold, History of Mod- ern Philosophy, iv, 36 n., 40 n., 70 n.
Holland in the Natural Science pe- riod, 17, 21, 31.
Holy Roman Empire, 217, 225.
Humanistic period, general charac- ter of, 15-21 ; hmg list of represent- atives of, 22, 23 ; consideration of representatives of (Cusanus, Para- celsus, Bruno), 23-30.
Humanity, the word, brought into currency by Herder, 133.
Hume, David, on Spinoza, 88 ; the change in English intellectual in- terests shown in, 147; general re- lation of Berkeley to, 174, 175 ; a dualist, 174 n. ; life and writings of, 183-186 ; compared with Berke- ley, 183, 184 ; influences ui)on the thought of, 186, 187 ; his Skepticism and Plienomenalism, 187-189 ; the origin of ideas, according to, 189- 191 ; the association of ideas, ac- cording to, 191-193 ; association, by law of contiguity, 192-194 ; by law of resemblance, 192-19G; associa- tion of causation, 192, 103, 105-190 ; mathematics in his philosophy, 104, 195; his conception of sui»- stance, 195, 196 ; his attack on the- ology, 195, 196 ; his attack on sci- ence, 196-199; the extent and limits
370
INDEX
of human knowledge, according to, 19'J, 'iOU ; his theory of religion and ethics, 200, 201 ; the skepticism of, iuHuenced Kant, 235. Huyghens, Christian, 32.
Idea, the world as, and as Will, ac- cording to Schopenhauer, 345-347; the misery of the world as, accord- ing to Schopenhauer, 348, 349.
Idealism, of Berkeley, 174; after Kant, 278, 279; subjective, of Fichte, 290, 304; aesthetic, of Schel- ling, 302, 304, 307; Transcendental, of Schelling, 309, 310 ; Hegel and the culmination of, 312-314; and Real- ism, and Mysticism, contrasted, 318-321 ; Hegel's, the fundamental principle of, 321, 322 ; German, and modern i)hilosophy, 355, 356.
Idealists, German, treated, 279-329.
Ideas, the proof of their truth, ac- cording to Descartes, 72 ; innate, of Descartes, 73, 150 ; innate, of Spinoza, 15C ; innate, denied by Locke, 15G, 157, 189 ; innate, of Leibnitz, 157; source of, accord- ing to Locke, 157-159 ; in the philo- sophies of Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, 174, 175 ; abstract, in Berke- ley's philosophy, 177, 179, 189; source of, according to Berkeley, 181-183 ; origin of, according to Hume, 187, 189-191 ; association of, according to Hume, 191-193 ; asso- ciation of, by law of contiguity, 192-194 ; by law of resemblance, 192-196; Kant's use of the term, 2C1 ; the three, according to Kant (God, soul, totality of the uni- verse), 261-268; of Fichte, 286; neo-Platonic, in Schelling's philo- sophy, 312.
Identity, of indiscernibles, 129 ; Schelling's philosophy of, 303, 310, 311.
Ideologists, French, 358.
Idols, the, of Bacon, 45.
Illuminati, the, 227.
Immortality of the soul, the postu- late of, according to Kant, 276.
Impressions, in Hume's philosophy, 190.
Inconsistencies of the world accord- ing to Hegel, 322.
Independent Philosophers, the, of the Enlightenment, 142.
Individual, independence of the, in the Enlightenment, 134.
Individualism, movement toward, in the Renaissance, 12, 15 ; modern, the rise of, 132-134; in the Enlight- enment, its expression in England, France, and Germany, 140 ; in France, in the Enlightenment, 207-209 ; in Germany, 219, 220, 223, 225-229; of the Romantic move- ment, 296.
Induction, in the Natural Science period, 19, 21, 35 ; defined, 35 n. ; use of, according to Galileo, 37; according to Bacon, 40, 46 ; accord- ing to Descartes, 70-72.
Infinity, Spinoza's idea of, 94, 95, 105, 106.
Innate Ideas, of Descartes, 73, 156 ; of Spinoza, 156; existence of , de- nied by Locke, 156, 157, 189; of Leibnitz, 157.
Intellectual Enlightenment in France, 207-212.
Inventions, of the Middle Ages, 6, 9; in the nineteenth century, 354.
Italian nature philosophers, 22.
Italy in the Renaissance, 10, 12, 16, 17, 21, 31.
James, William, Hibbert Journal, 315 n. ; Prafitnatitnn, 352 n.
Jena. 233, 284, 302, 307.
Jewish Cabala, the, 11.
Johnson, Samuel, president of King's College in New York, 171.
Judgments indispensable to know- ledge, according to Kant (analytic, synthetic, a posteriori, a priori), 248-252.
Kant, Immanuel, his Critique of Pure Ueason, marks the transi- tion from tlie Enlightenment to German Philosophy, 2-4, 232; the influences upon, 233-235 ; life and writings of, 235-2.3S; the problem of, 238^ 239; the method of, 239, 240; the threefold world of (sub- jective states, things- in- them- selves, and i>henomi'na), 240-243 ; his world of knowledge, 243-245 ; place of synthesis in knowledge.
INDEX
371
According to, 245-248 ; the judg- ments indispensable to know- ledge, according to, 248-252 ; proof of the validity of liiiman know- ledge, according to, 252-260 ; valid- ity of sense-perception consists in space and time, 253-255 ; tlie validity of the understanding, 255- 260; the question of the validity of the reason, 260-262 ; the idea of the soul, 261-264 ; the idea of the universe, 261, 264, 265 ; the idea of God, 261, 265-268 ; summary of the theory of knowledge contained in the Critique of Pure Reason, 268, 269 ; the ethics of (the problem of the Critique of Practical Reason), 269-271 ; the moral law and the two questions concerning it, 271- 275; the moral postulates, 275-277; idealism after, 278, 279 ; his influ- ence upon Fichte, 285, 286 ; why Hegel remains to-day the repre- sentative of, 314, 315 ; followers of (Herbart and Schopenhauer), 330- 332.
Kepler, Johann, 32-34.
Khayyam Omar, 347, 348.
Knowledge, in Hobbes's philosophy, 57 ; in Descartes 's philosophy, 77 ; God the only object of, according to Spinoza, 92 ; Locke's theory of, 155, 156, 158, 160-162 ; in Berkeley's philosophy, 176 ; in Hume's philo- sophy, 187, 199, 200 ; in Reid's phi- losophy, 202 ; Kant's theory of, 238, 239 ; Kant's world of, 243-245 ; the place of synthesis in, accord- ing to Kant, 245-248 ; the judg- ments indispensable to, according to Kant, 248-252; human, proof of the validity of, according to Kant, 252-262 ; transcendent and tran- scendental, of Kant, 262; of the soul, 262-264 ; of the universe, 264, 265 ; of God, 265-268 ; siunmary of Kant's theory of, contained in the Critique of Pure Reason, 268, 269 ; according to Schopenhauer, 345.
Knutzen, Martin, teacher of Kant, 234.
Latin, before and in the Renais- sance, 10-12. Leibnitz, G. W. von, 31; as the fin-
isher of the Renaissance and the forerunner of the Enlightenment, 107, 108; life and writings of, 108- 112; his early classical studies, 112, 113; the new science and his dis- coveries, 113, 114; influenced by political pressure for religious re- conciliation, 114, 115; the method of, 115-118; the immediate problem for (that of reconciling science and religion), 118, 119; the result of his examination of the principles of science, a plurality of metaphysi- cal substances, 119-122; his exam- ination of the scientific couceptiou of motion, 119, 120 ; his examin- ation of the scientific conception of the atom, 120, 121 ; his theoi-y of monadology, 121 ; the double na- ture of his monads, 122-125; the two forms of his conception of the unity of the substances, 125: the intrinsic (philosophical) unity of his monads, 125-129; the superim- posed (theological) unity of his monads, 129-131 ; his toleration compared with that of Locke, 151; his philosophy, a source of the German Enlightenment, 220-223; his philosophy developed and transformed by Wolff and Thom- asius, 221-223 ; Lessing and Herder as interpreters of, 228; appears, through Lessing, as a motive power in German Enlightenment, 229.
Leibnitz-Wolffian philosophy, 221- 223, 231 ; influenced Kant, 233, 234.
Lessing, G. E., and Spinoza, con- nection of, 85; helped save Ger- many from a political revolution, 226-228 ; gave the death-blow to pe- dantic absolutism, 228; German literature begins with, 228 ; as in- terpreter of Leibnitz, 228; his phi- losojihy, 229.
Life, in Leibnitz's philosophy, 128.
Locke, John, his Essay on the Hu- man Understanding marks the transition from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment, 2-4; his general position in the history of philosophy, 145-147; his life and writings, 147-150; the sources of his thought, 150-153; his Puritan
372
INDEX
ancestry, 150 ; his training in tol- erance, 150, 151; the scientific in- fluence on, 151, 152; the politi- cal influence on, 152, 153 ; the pur- pose of , 153-155; two sides of his philosophy, 155-158; and scholas- ticism, 156, 157 ; his psychology, 157-160; his epistemology, 155, 156, 158, 160-162 ; his practical philo- sophy, 162, 163; the influence of, 163, 164; general relation of Berke- ley to, 174, 175; Berkeley's points of agreement with, 175, 17G.
Logic, in the latter part of the Mid- dle Ages, studied for its own sake, 4; in Hegel's philosophy, 323, 328.
London, new religious centre in the Renaissance, 12; becomes an in- tellectual centre about the time of the publication of Locke's Essay, 206.
Lotze, R. H., 359.
Louis XIV, French King, 203.
Louis XV, French King, 204.
Macaulay, T. B., Essay on Bacon, 40 n.; on Bacon, 42.
Macchiavelli, Niccol6, 47.
Magic in the Humanistic period, 18, 19, 21,25.
Magnetic needle, discovery of, 6, 7.
Malebranche, Xicolas de, G3, 83.
Man, his relation to the universe in the Renaissance, 8-18; in the philosophy of Paracelsus, 26; in Hobbes's philosophy, 55, 58; in Descartes's philosophy, 79; in Spi- noza's philosophy, 103; in Leib- nitz's philosophy, 126; in Fichte's philosophy, 292, 293 ; in Schelling's philosophy, 300, 309. See Xew man.
Materialism, of Hobbes, 48, 49, .53; defined, 53 n. ; of the nineteenth century, 358.
Mathematical Astronomers, the, 32- 36.
Mathematical law, according to Gal- ileo, 37, 38.
Mathematics, in the Natural Science period, 19, 21; modern influence of, grew from astronomical begin- nings among the Humanists, 35; of Hobbes, 48, 54, 50-60; of Des- cartes, 48, 68, 69, 74, 76; in Spi- noza's philosophy, 90, 91, 93, 99;
differential calculus, discovered by Leibnitz, 112, 114, 119; in Leib- nitz's philosophy, 116, 122, 123 ; in Hume's philosophy, 194, 195. Matter, the reality of, according to Descartes, 75-77, 82; relation of God to, according to Descartes, 77, 78; in Berkeley's philoso]ihy, 177, 17S ; in Schelling's philosoi>hy, 305; in Hegel's philosophy, 324. Mechanism of the world of Hobbes,
52-54. Mediaeval, man, 9, 10 ; science, 11 ; institutions, 11 ; church, 14; world, 15. Mendelssohn, Moses, 221. Metaphysics, Cartesian, assumed in
the Enlightenment, 135. Methodism, rise of, 137. Middle Ages, the, causes of the de- cay of the civilization of, 4-7. Mill, J. S., 38 n., 358. Mind, relation of God to, according to Descartes, 78 ; relation of body and, according to Descartes, 78-80 ; in the philosophy of the Occasion- alists, 83; in the philosophy f)f Locke, 156-162 ; in Berkeley's philo- sophy, 176, 180; in Hume's philo- sophy, 191 ; in Reid's philosophy, 202; of Fichte and Schelling, 304; in Hegel's philosophy, 324; phe- nomena of, according to Herbart, 338-340, See Soul. Modern philosophy, comparative short time-length of, lii, iv; diffi- culty in the study of, 1, 2 ; periods of, 2-4; and German idealism, 355, 356. Modes, of mind and matter, accord- ing to Descartes, 77 ; of thought and extension, according to Spi- noza, 95, 96. M(madology, Leibnitz's theory of,
121. Monads, of Leibnitz, metaphysical atoms, 112, 114, 119, 121 ; the double nature of, 122-125; conceived as soul-atoms, 122, 123, 126; represent- ation the general function of, 124 ; are windowless, and mirror the universe, 125, 127; the prin- ciple of unity among, called a pre- established harmony, 125 ; the in- trinsic (philosophical) unity of,
INDEX
373
125-129; the superimposed (theo- logical) unity of, 129-131.
Montesquieu, C. de S. de. Baron, 208.
Moral, awakening, the, according to Fichte, 287, 288 ; freedom, of Fichte, 289, 290; world, of Fichte, 290-292; reality, a, what it involves, according to Fichte, 293-295.
Moral Philosophers of the Enlight- enment, 141.
Moralists, English, the, 1G6-168.
Morality, according to Hegel, 326.
Morals, Kant's theory of, 269-277.
More, Thomas, his Utopia, 41 n., 47.
Morley, John, Diderot, 211 n.
Motion, in Galileo's philosophy, 38; in Hobbes's philosophy, 53; Leib- nitz's examination of the scien- tific conception of, 119, 120.
Music according to Schopenhauer, 350.
Mysticism, self-destructive, 5 ; of Spinoza, 98-102; and Realism, and Idealism-, contrasted, 318-321 ; of Schopenhauer, 347 ; of twentieth centurj', 363.
Mystics, Protestant, the, 23.
Mythology and Revelation, Schel- ling's philosophy of, 303, 311, 312.
Napoleon, quoted, 231.
Natura natimin^i and nat^ira na- turata, 29, 30, 97.
Natural Religion, the creed of, 165.
Natural Science period, the, gen- eral facts about, 15-21 ; discussion of (Galileo, Bacon, Hobbes), 31-61 ; discussion of the Rationalism of, 62-131.
Naturalism, of the Greeks, recov- ered in the Renaissance, 14 ; in Hobbes, 53 ; detined, 53 n.
Nature, in the Natural Science period, 18; in the philosophy of Paracelsus, 27; in Bruno's philo- sophy, 29, 30; its two aspects, na- ture natiu-aiis a,n(l natura natu- rata, 29, 30; in the philosophy of the Rationalists, 63, 64; continuity of, according to Leibnitz, 123, 126, 128, 129; in the Enlightenment, 135; in the philosophy of Locke, 163 ; according to Kant, 248, 255, 258, 259 ; as conceived by the Ro- manticists, 297; Schelling'3 philo-
sophy of, 300, 304-306 ; phenomena of, and the many reals, according to Herbart, 337, 338; in Schopen- hauer, 348 ; how conceived, in the nineteenth century, 353; according to Fechner, 359.
Nature philosophers, Italian, 22.
Neo - Platonism dominated the Humanistic period, 17, 18, 21,23,25, 27-29.
New Man, in a New Universe, phrase characterizing first period of mod- ern philosophy, 8-18; the emer- gence of the, in the Enlightenment, 132-134.
Newton, Sir Isaac, 32; his physics, Kant influenced by, 234.
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 342, 352 n.
Nineteenth century, pessimistic, 341, 342; the character of the real- ism of, 353-355 ; the barrenness of the philosophy of, and German idealism, 355, 356; the philosophi- cal problems of, 356-362.
Nineteenth Century Philosophy, the fourth period of modern philoso- phy, 3, 352-363.
Nominalism, doctrine of, led to the dissolution of the civilization of the Middle Ages, 6.
Noumena of Kant, 242.
Novalis. See Hardenberg.
Occasionalists, the, 63, 81 ; their re- lation to Descartes, 81-83.
Owen, John, Locke influenced by, 150.
Oxford University, 12.
Panpsychism, 102.
Pantheism, detined, 94; of Spinoza,
94-98. Paracelsus, 23, 25-27. Paris, the centre of scholastic influ- ence in the seventeenth century,
206. Paulsen, Friedrich, cited, 231; on
Kant's synthetic judgments a
priori, 251 n. Perceptions, of Berkeley, 181; of
Hume, 190. See Sense-])erception. Periods of modern philosophy, 2-4. Pessimism, 341, 342, 344, 348-351. Phenomena, the world of, according
to Kant, 242-243; realities implied
374
INDEX
by, according to Herbart, 336 ; na- ture, and the many reals, accord- ing to Herbart, 337, 338.
Phenomenalism of Hume, 187-189.
" rhilosoiiher's stone, the," 25.
rhilosophical Religion, Lessing a writer on, 143.
Philosophical Revolutionists, the, of the Enlightenment, 142.
Philosophy, according to Hegel, 326; modern, barren of ideas, 355; and German Idealism, 355, 356.
Phrenology, in the nineteenth cen- tury, 358.
Physics, in Hobbes's philosophy, 56; of Descartes, 68. See Science.
Pietism, and Leibnitz, 115; a factor in the German Enlightenment, 2iy, 220, 223, 230; intluenced Kant, 233.
Pietists, the, of the Enlightenment, 142.
Plato, 45 n.
Platonic Academy, the, of the Re- naissance, 10.
Platonisra, reaction toward, after Hobbes, 61.
Plotinus, 28.
Pluralism of Leibnitz, 119-122.
Political Economists and Constitu- tionalists, the, of the Enlighten- ment, 142.
Political philosophers, 23,
Politics according to Hobbes, 56, 58- 60.
Pope, Alexander, on Bacon, 42; Es- say on Man, quoted, 133.
Popular Philosophers, the, of the Enlightenment, 142.
Positivism, Bacon the father of, in England, 43; defined, 43 n.; of Hume, 18S, 180.
Prague, University of, 12.
Printing, discovery of, 6.
Protestant Mystics, the, 23.
Prussia, rise of, 218, 219, 223; and Frederick the Great, 224-226.
Psychologists and related philoso- phers, of the Enlightenment, 142.
Psychology, in Hobbes's philosophy, 56-58; empirical, took the place of metaphysics in the Enlighten- ment, 137; of Locke, 157-160; of Hume, 189; of Herbart, 338-340; in the nineteenth century, 357.
See Associational Psychology, As-
sociational Psychologists.
Psycho-physical parallelism of Spi- noza, 102.
Ptolemaic system, the, 33.
Pyrrho, Skeptic philosopher, 187.
Qualities, primary and secondary, in Locke's philosophy, 161 ; in Berke- ley's philosophy, 177, 178. See At- tributes.
Rand, Modern Classical Philoso- phers, iv, 40 n., 47 n., 66 n., 84 n., 107 n., 147 n., 169 n., 183 n., 212 n., 236 n., 282 n., 300 n., 315 n., 340 n.. 352 n., 360 n.
Rationalism, defined, 61 n. ; the na- ture of, 62-65; School of, in Ger- many, France, and Holland, 80; of AVolff and the Leibnitz-Wolffians, 221-223, 231.
Rationalists, the, 31, 63-65. See Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz.
Realism, Mysticism, and Idealism, contrasted, 318-321; the argument for, according to Herbart, 334-330; multiple, according to Herbart, 337, 338; the return to, in the nine- teenth century, 352, 353; of the nineteenth century, the charactei of, 353-355.
Realistic Movement, the, 224.
Reality, of Fichte, 287-295; of Real- ism, Mysticism, and Idealism, 320, 321; implied by phenomena, ac- cording to Herbart, 336; irra- tional, the will as, according to Schopenhauer, 347, 348. See Abso- lute Reality.
Reason, the question of its validity, according to Kant, 2G0-262; tlie will exerted from, 272, 273; in Hegel's philosophy, 314, 323.
Reflections in Locke's philosophy, 158, 159.
Reformation, Protestant, the, 7.
Reid, Thomas, 201, 202.
Religion, according to Hobbes, 60; and science, Leibnitz's attempt to reconcile, 118. 119; in the Enlight- enment, 137; Philosophical, Less- ing a writer on, 143 ; of the Deists, 164, 165; in Hume's philosophy, 200, 201; according to Hegel, 326.
INDEX
375
Religious philosophy of Schelling, 311, ai2.
Renaissance, the, the first period of modern philosophy, 2-4; general character of, 8-11; significance of, in history, 11-15 ; the problem of, 14 ; two periods of, 15-21 ; discus- sion of the Humanistic period of, 22-30; birthplaces of the chief philosophers of (map), 30; discus- sion of the Natural Science period of (Galileo, Bacon, Hobbes), 31-Gl; in Kngland after Hobbes, 61; dis- cussion of the Rationalism of the Katural Science period of, G2-131.
Representation, the general func- tion of Leibnitz's monads, 124, 12G.
Resemblance, association by, 192-196.
Revelation and Mythology, Schel- ling's Philosophy of, 303, 311, 312.
Revolution, French, the, 213,214,216.
Revolutionists, Philosophical, the, of the Enlightenment, 142.
Ribot, Th6odule, German Psycho- '«;/.'/ of To-ddij, 332 n.
Richter, J. P., forerunner of the lit- erary Romanticists, 279.
Robertson, G. C, Hobbes, 47 n., 66 n.
Romantic philosophers, the, 299.
Romanticism, 224; the period of, 295, 296; its meaning, 29G, 297 ; in philo- sophy, 299, 300 ; takes a religious turn at beginning of eighteenth century, 311.
Romanticists, the, 284, 285 ; G-oethe as one of, 297-299; the aesthetic humanism of, 308.
Rousseau, J. J., the most notable figure of France during the En- lightenment, 142 ; his philosophy, 213-216 ; his influence, 216, 230, 234, 235.
Royal Society, the, 40.
Royce, Josiah, Spirit of Modern Philosoiihy, iv, 84 n., 169 n., 236 n., 282 n., 299 n., 315 n., 352 n. ; The World and the Individual, 352 n.
Salvation, Spinoza's doctrine of, 102-106.
Schelling, F. W. J. von, and Fichte and Hegel, what they sought, 279, 281,312; the true Romantic spirit appears in, 299; life and writings of, 300-303; his philosophy of Na-
ture, 300, 304-306 ; his philosophy characterized, 301 ; his transcend- ental philosophy, 302, 307-310 ; his system of identity, 303, 310, 311 ; and Fichte, a brief comparison of, as philosophers, 303-305 ; his religious philosophy, 311, 312.
Schiller, J. C. F. von, prominent in the Storm and Stress movement, 227 ; notable example of the inllu- ence of Kant upon literature, 233 ; quoted on Kant, 233 ; Artists, Let- ters on Esthetic Education, 307 n.
Schleiermacher, F. E. D., 308, 311.
Scholasticism, a self-destructive method, 4 ; mediseval. Renaissance had to reckon with, 11 ; represent- atives of the revival of, 22 ; after Hobbes, 61 ; and Locke, 156, 157.
Schopenhauer, Arthur, his relation to Kant, 330-332 ; and his philoso- phical relations, 340-342 ; and pes- simism, 341, 342, 344, 348, 349-351 ; life and writings of, 342, 343; the influences upon his thought, 343- 345 ; the world as will and the world as idea, 345-347; the will as irrational reality, 347, 348 ; the mis- ery of the world as idea, 348, 349 ; the way of deliverance, 349-351.
Schultze, F. A., teacher of Kant, 233.
Science, attitude of the Church to- ward, in the period of the Renais- sance, 19 - 21 ; modern methods in, began with Galileo, 32, 37-39; in Bacon, 40-46 ; in Hobbes, 54, 58 ; and religion, Leibnitz's attempt to reconcile, 118, 119 ; Hume's at- tack on, 196-199 ; Hume's two classes of, 199, 200; in the nine- teenth century, 353-357; invaded by evolution, 361. See Natural Science period, Physics.
Scientific methods in the Renais- sance, 18, 19.
Scientists of the Natural Science period, 31-39, 62-65. See Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz.
Scottish School of Philosophy, the, of the Enlightenment, 141, 201, 202.
Self, idea of, in Locke's philosophy, 159, IGO; of Kant, 260; of Fichte, 293 ; of Schelling, 309, 310. See Ego.
Sensationalism, 53.
Sensationalists. See Sensualists.
376
INDEX
Sensations, of Locke, 158, 159; of Kant, 245; of Fichte, 290, 291; of Herbart, 339; of Fechner, 359.
Sense - perception, in wliat its val- idity consists, according to Kiint, 253-255. See Perceptions.
Sensualists, the, of the Enlighten- ment, 141, 212.
Sentimentalist, the, of the Enlight- enment (Rousseau), 142.
Seven Years' War, 225.
Shaftesbury, Lord, and Locke, 148, 152, 153.
Shelley, P. B., Love's Philosophy, 305 n. ; Prometheus Unbound quoted, 325.
Skepticism, revived by Renaissance scholars, 11 ; of Hunae, 187-189; of Hume, influenced Kant, 235.
Skeptics, the, of the Enlightenment, 141.
Social Enlightenment in France, 213- 216.
Sociology according to Comte, 300.
Solipsism, of Descartes, 72 ; defined, 183.
Soul, according to Descartes, 72, 79, the monad of Leibnitz conceived as, 122, 123, 126; according to Hume, 196 ; the idea of the, according to Kant, 261-264 ; the postulate of the immortality of, according to Kant, 276 ; in Herbart's philoso- phy, 338-340 ; the problem of the functioning of, 357-360. See Mind.
Space and time, knowledge possible by means of, according to Kant, 253-255.
Spencer, Herbert, Education, 43 n. ; and evolution, 362.
Spener, P. J., 220, 230.
Spinoza, Baruch de, 31, 35 ; his rela- tion to Descartes, 81-84; the his- torical place of, 84-86 ; influence of his Jewish training on, 86; his im- pulse from the new science, and Descartcs's influence upon, 86, 87; his acquaintance v'ith the Colle- giants, 87, 88 ; life and philosophi- cal writings of, 88-90 ; the method of, 90, 91; the fundanental princi- ple in his philosophy, 91, 92 ; three central problems in iiis teaching, 93; his pantheism, 94-98 ; the mys- ticism of, 98-102 ; his doctrine of
salvation, 102-106 ; summary of his teaching, 100; his conception of the world compared with Leibnitz's, 127 ; and Kant, foci of the philoso- phy of the generation after Kant, 278, 279 ; his influence upon Fichte, 285.
Spirit, See Mind, Soul.
Spirituality of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, 281.
Rtael, Madame de, quoted, 231.
State, the, according to Hobbes, 55» 58-60.
States, ideal, 41, 47.
Stephen, Leslie, Hobbes, 47 n. ; His- tory of English Thought, 166 n.
Stewart, Dugald, 141, 202.
Stirling, J. H., Textbook to Kant, 236 n.
Stoicism, revived by Renaissance scholars, 11.
Storm and Stress movement, 224, 227, 229, 295, 296.
" Strife of methods, the," 19, 35.
" Struggle of traditions, the," 17, 18.
Subjective idealism of Fichte, 290, 304.
Subjective states, the world of, aC' cording to Kant, 240-242.
Subjectivism, Renaissance marked by the rise of, 14, 15.
Substance, in Descartes's philoso- phy, 77, 81, 82; in the philosophy of the Occasionalists and Spinoza, 81-84, 91-95, 101; in Leibnitz's philo- sophy, 119-122; in Locke's philoso- phy, 160-162 ; according to Locke, Berkeley, and Hume, 174, 175 ; in Berkeley's philosojjhy, 176, 178 ; Hume's conception of, 195, 196.
Sufficient reason, law of, 129.
Suicide according to Schopenhauer, 349.
Sympathy according to Schopen- hauer, 350, 351.
Synthesis, according, to Kant, 244, 245; the place of, in knowledge, ac- cording to Kant, 245-248; ofVichte, 295; of Hegel, 327. See Deduction.
Syntlietic judgments of Kant, 249- 252.
Taurellus, 11.
Tetens, J. N., 221.
Theology, Hume's attack on, 195, 196.
INDEX
377
Thesis, of Fichte, 295; of Hegel, 327.
Things-in-theiHselves, the world of, according' to Kiuit, 240-2'42, 33G; how ti-KUted by Fichte, 290, 291; how treated by Schelling, 300; the philosophy of, 330-351; the chief coucern of philosophy, ac- cording to Herbart, 332; implied by phenomena, according to Her- bart, 330; basis of Schopenhauer's philosophy, 340; according to Schopenhauer, 345, 346.
Thirty Years' War, 217.
Thoraasius, Christian, 142, 221.
Thought, in Spinoza's philosophy, 95, 101, 102; in Hegel's philosophy, 322, 335.
Time and space, knowledge possible by means of, according to Kant. 253-255.
Tindal, Matthew, 165.
Tolaud, John, 165.
Transcendental, method, of Kant, 239, 240; philosophy, of Schelling, 302, 307-310 ; freedom, of Schopen- hauer, 349-351.
Trent, Council of, 16, 20.
Truth, standard of, in the Middle Ages, self-destructive, 5; criterion of, according to Descartes, 72.
Truths of Leibnitz, 116, 117.
Tschirnhausen, E. W. von, 221.
Turner, William, History of Philoso- phy, 73 n.
Ueberweg, Friedrich, History of Philoso})hy, iv, 209 n.
Understanding, in what its validity consists, according to Kant, 255- 260.
Unity, of Leibnitz, 122 ; a preestab- Ished harmony, 125; the intrinsic (philosophical), 125-129 ; the super- imposed (theological), 129-131 ; cosmic, of Hegel, 322-326.
Universal, concrete and abstract, 99, 100.
Universe, Man's relation to, in the Renaissance, 8-18; according to the Ptolemaic system, 33; according to the Copernican system, 34 ; the idea of the, according to Kant, 261, 264,
265 ; according to Schelling, 304,
311. See New Man. Universities, in the Renaissance, 12;
towns containing (map), 280. Utilitarianism, 43. Utopias, 41, 47.
Van der Ende, his influence on
Spinoza, 87, 89. Vienna, University of, 12. Voltaire, F. M. A. de, 20S-210, 223.
Wagner, Richard, 342.
Watson, John, Hedonistic Theories, 47 n.
Weber, E. A., History of Philoso'phy, iv, 70 n., 73 n., 107 n., 332 n., 352 n.
Weimar, 233, 307.
Wernaer, R. M., Romanticism and the Romantic School in Germany, 300 n.
Will, the, Kant's theory of, 269-277; the world as, and as idea, accord- ing to Schopenhauer, 345-347; as irrational reality, according to Schopenhauer, 347, 348 ; suicide and, according to Schopenhauer, 349 ; the denial of, according to Schopenhauer, 349-351.
Windelband, Wilhelm, History of Philosoj^hy, iv, 8 n., 23 n., 30 n., 47 n., 70 n., 119 n., 132 n., 183 n., 230 n., 236 n., 278 n., 282 n.; on Kant's synthetic judgments a pri- ori, 251 n.
Wittenberg, new religious centre in the Renaissance, 12.
WolfenhUttel Fragments, 85.
Wolff, Christian, 221, 222, 228.
Wolffians, the, 142.
World, of grace, 63, 64, 76, 83 ; rela- tion of God to, according to Des- cartes, 77 ; in Spinoza's philosophy, 97 ; the, Leibnitz's conception of, as the best possil)le, 130 ; according to Goethe, 298 ; in terms of conscious- ness, 321 ; a world of contradic- tions, 321 ; as will and as idea, ac- cording to Schopenhauer, 345-347 ; as idea, the misery of, according to Schopenhauer, 348, 349. See Universe.
74
CS5 V.2
1/
Cushman, Herbert Ernest
A beginner's xhistozy cf philosophy
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET
.■flBSiffl
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
ym; yym
&-■'
^^^^■^e^'^m
4r. m
B-.A.-^.
it:: :.*:
m^