c. The Stoics have thus in the third place likewise been in the way of

representing an ideal of the wise man which, however, is nothing more than the will of the subject which in itself only wills itself, remains at the thought of the good, because it is good, allows itself in its steadfastness to be moved by nothing different from itself, such as desires, pain, &c., desires its freedom alone, and is prepared to give up all else—which thus, if it experiences outward pain and misfortune, yet separates these from the inwardness of its consciousness. The question of why the expression of rel morality has with the Stoics the form of the ideal of the wise man finds its answer, however, in the fact that the mere conception of virtuous consciousness, of action with respect to an implicitly existent end, finds in individual consciousness alone the element of moral reality. For if the Stoics had gone beyond the mere conception of action for the implicitly existent end, and had reached to the knowledge of the content, they would not have required to express this as a subject. To them rational self-preservation is virtue. But if we ask what it is that is evolved by virtue, the answer is to the effect that it is just rational self-preservation; and thus they have not by this expression got beyond that formal circle. Moral reality is not expressed as that which is enduring, which is evolved and ever evolving itself. And moral reality is just this, to exist; for as nature is an enduring and existent system, the spiritual as such must be an objective world. To this reality the Stoics have, however, not reached. Or we may understand this thus. Their moral reality is only the wise man, an ideal and not a reality—in fact the mere conception whose reality is not set forth.

This subjectivity is already contained in the fact that moral reality, expressed as virtue, thereby immediately presents the appearance of being present only as a quality of the individual. This virtue, as such, in as far as only the moral reality of the individual is indicated, cannot attain to happiness in and for itself, even though happiness, regarded in the light of realization, were only the realization of the individual. For this happiness would be just the enjoyment of the individual as the harmony of existence with him as individual; but with him as individual true happiness does not harmonize, but only with him as universal man. Man must likewise not in the least desire that it should harmonize with him as individual man, that is, he must be indifferent to the individuality of his existence, and to the harmony with the individual as much as to the want of harmony; he must be able to dispense with happiness just as, if he possesses it, he must be free from it; or it is only a harmony of him with himself as a universal. If merely the subjective conception of morality is therein contained, its true relationship is yet thereby expressed; for it is this freedom of consciousness which in its enjoyment rests in itself and is independent of objects,—what we expressed above (p. 264) as the special characteristic of the Stoic morality. Stoic self-consciousness has not here to deal with its individuality as such, but solely with the freedom in which it is conscious of itself only as the universal. Now could one call this happiness, in distinction to the other, true happiness, happiness would still, on the whole, remain a wrong expression. The satisfaction of rational consciousness in itself as an immediate universal, is a state of being which is simulated by the determination of happiness; for in happiness we have the moment of self-consciousness as an individuality. But this differentiated consciousness is not present in that self-satisfaction; for in that freedom the individual has rather the sense of his universality only. Striving after happiness, after spiritual enjoyment, and talking of the excellence of the pleasures of science and art, is hence dull and insipid, for the matter with which we are occupied has no longer the form of enjoyment, or it does away with that conception. This sort of talk has indeed passed away and it no longer has any interest. The true point of view is to concern oneself with the matter itself and not with enjoyment, that is, not with the constant reflection on the relation to oneself as individual, but with the matter as a matter, and as implicitly universal. We must take care besides that things are tolerable to us as individuals, and the pleasanter the better. But no further notice or speech about this is requisite, nor are we to imagine that there is much that is rational and important within it. But the Stoic consciousness does not get beyond this individuality to the reality of the universal, and therefore it has only to express the form, the real as an individual, or the wise man.

The highest point reached by Aristotle, the thought of thought, is also present in Stoicism, but in such a way that it does not stand in its individual capacity as it appears to do in Aristotle, having what is different beside it, but as being quite alone. Thus in the Stoic consciousness there is just this freedom, this negative moment of abstraction from existence, an independence which is capable of giving up everything, but not as an empty passivity and self-abnegation, as though everything could be taken from it, but an independence which can resign it voluntarily, without thereby losing its reality; for its reality is really just the simple rationality, the pure thought of itself. Here pure consciousness thus attains to being its own object, and because reality is to it only this simple object, its object annuls in itself all modes of existence, and is nothing in and for itself, being therein only in the form of something abrogated.

All is merged into this: the simplicity of the Notion, or its pure negativity, is posited in relation to everything. But the real filling in, the objective mode, is wanting, and in order to enter into this, Stoicism requires that the content should be given. Hence the Stoics depicted the ideal of the wise man in specially eloquent terms, telling how perfectly sufficient in himself and independent he is, for what the wise man does is right. The description of the ideal formed by the Stoics is hence a common subject of discussion and is even devoid of interest; or at least the negative element in it is alone noteworthy. “The wise man is free and likewise in chains, for he acts from himself, uncorrupted by fear or desire.” Everything which belongs to desire and fear he does not reckon to himself, he gives to such the position of being something foreign to him; for no particular existence is secure to him. “The wise man is alone king, for he alone is not bound to laws, and he is debtor to no one.” Thus we here see the autonomy and autocracy of the wise man, who, merely following reason, is absolved from all established laws which are recognized, and for which no rational ground can be given, or which appear to rest somewhat on a natural aversion or instinct. For even in relation to actual conduct no definite law has properly speaking reality for him, and least of all those which appear to belong to nature as such alone, _e.g._ the prohibition against entering into marriage relations which are considered incestuous, the prohibition of intercourse between man and man, for in reason the same thing is fitting as regards the one which is so as regards the others. Similarly the wise man may eat human flesh,[143] &c. But a universal reason is something quite indeterminate. Thus the Stoics have not passed beyond their abstract understanding in the transgression of these laws, and therefore they have allowed their king to do much that was immoral; for if incest, pederasty, the eating of human flesh, were at first forbidden as though through a natural instinct only, they likewise can by no means exist before the judgment-seat of reason. The Stoic wise man is thus also ‘enlightened,’ in the sense that where he did not know how to bring the natural instinct into the form of a rational reason, he trampled upon nature. Thus that which is called natural law or natural instinct comes into opposition with what is set forth as immediately and universally rational. For example, those first actions seem to rest on natural feelings, and we must remember that feelings are certainly not the object of thought; as opposed to this, property is something thought, universal in itself, a recognition of my possession from all, and thus it indeed belongs to the region of the understanding. But should the wise man hence not be bound by the former because it is not something immediately thought, this is merely the fault of his want of comprehension. As we have, however, seen that in the sphere of theory the thought-out simplicity of the truth is capable of all content, so we find this also to be the case with the good, that which is practically thought-out, without therefore being any content in itself. To wish to justify such a content through a reason thus indicates a confusion between the perception of the individual and that of all reality, it means a superficiality of perception which does not acknowledge a certain thing because it is not known in this and that regard. But this is so for the reason that it only seeks out and knows the most immediate grounds and cannot know whether there are not other aspects and other grounds. Such grounds as these allow of reasons for and against everything being found—on the one hand a positive relation to something which, though in other cases necessary, as such can also be again sublated; and, on the other hand, a negative relation to something necessary, which can likewise again be held to be valid.

Because the Stoics indeed placed virtue in thought, but found no concrete principle of rational self-determination whereby determinateness and difference developed, they, in the first place, have carried on a reasoning by means of grounds to which they lead back virtue. They draw deductions from facts, connections, consequences, from a contradiction or opposition; and this Antoninus and Seneca do in an edifying way and with great ingenuity. Reasons, however, prove to be a nose of wax; for there are good grounds for everything, such as “These instincts, implanted as they are by nature,” or “Short life,” &c. Which reasons should be esteemed as good thereby depends on the end and interest which form the pre-supposition giving them their power. Hence reasons are as a whole subjective. This method of reflecting on self and on what we should do, leads to the giving to our ends the breadth of reflection due to penetrative insight, the enlargement of the sphere of consciousness. It is thus I who bring forward these wise and good grounds. They do not constitute the thing, the objective itself, but the thing of my own will, of my desire, a bauble through which I set up before me the nobility of my mind; the opposite of this is self-oblivion in the thing. In Seneca himself there is more folly and bombast in the way of moral reflection than genuine truth; and thus there has been brought up against him both his riches, the splendour of his manner of life, his having allowed Nero to give him wealth untold, and also the fact that he had Nero as his pupil; for the latter delivered orations composed by Seneca.[144] This reasoning is often brilliant, as with Seneca: we find much that awakens and strengthens the mind, clever antitheses and rhetoric, but we likewise feel the coldness and tediousness of these moral discourses. We are stimulated but not often satisfied, and this may be deemed the character of sophistry: if acuteness in forming distinctions and sincere opinion must be there recognized, yet final conviction is ever lacking.

In the second place there is in the Stoic standpoint the higher, although negatively formal principle, that what is thought is alone as such the end and the good, and therefore that in this form of abstract thought alone, as in Kant’s principle of duty, there is contained that by which man must establish and secure his self-consciousness, so that he can esteem and follow nothing in himself in as far as it has any other content for itself. “The happy life,” says Seneca (De vita beata, 5), “is unalterably grounded on a right and secure judgment.” The formal security of the mind which abstracts from everything, sets up for us no development of objective principles, but a subject which maintains itself in this constancy, and in an indifference not due to stupidity, but studied; and this is the infinitude of self-consciousness in itself.

Because the moral principle of the Stoics remains at this formalism, all that they treat of is comprised in this. For their thoughts are the constant leading back of consciousness to its unity with itself. The power of despising existence is great, the strength of this negative attitude sublime. The Stoic principle is a necessary moment in the Idea of absolute consciousness; it is also a necessary manifestation in time. For if, as in the Roman world, the life of the real mind is lost in the abstract universal; the consciousness, where real universality is destroyed, must go back into its individuality and maintain itself in its thoughts. Hence, when the political existence and moral actuality of Greece had perished, and when in later times the Roman Empire also became dissatisfied with the present, it withdrew into itself, and there sought the right and moral which had already disappeared from ordinary life. It is thus herein implied, not that the condition of the world is a rational and right one, but only that the subject as such should assert his freedom in himself. Everything that is outward, world, relationships, &c., are so disposed as to be capable of being abrogated; in it there is thus no demand for the real harmony of reason and existence; or that which we might term objective morality and rectitude is not found in it. Plato has set up the ideal of a Republic, _i.e._ of a rational condition of mankind in the state; for this esteem for right, morality and custom which is to him the principal matter, constitutes the side of reality in that which is rational; and it is only through a rational condition of the world such as this, that the harmony of the external with the internal is in this concrete sense present. In regard to morality and power of willing the good, nothing more excellent can be read than what Marcus Aurelius has written in his Meditations on himself; he was Emperor of the whole of the then known civilized world, and likewise bore himself nobly and justly as a private individual. But the condition of the Roman Empire was not altered by this philosophic emperor, and his successor, who was of a different character, was restrained by nothing from inaugurating a condition of things as bad as his own wicked caprice might direct. It is something much higher when the inward principle of the mind, of the rational will, likewise realizes itself, so that there arises a rational constitution, a condition of things in accordance with culture and law. Through such objectivity of reason, the determinations which come together in the ideal of the wise man are first consolidated. There then is present a system of moral relationships which are duties; each determination is then in its place, the one subordinated to the other, and the higher is predominant. Hence it comes to pass that the conscience becomes bound (which is a higher point than the Stoic freedom), that the objective relationships which we call duties are consolidated after the manner of a just condition of things, as well as being held by mind to be fixed determinations. Because these duties do not merely appear to hold good in a general sense, but are also recognized in my conscience as having the character of the universal, the harmony of the rational will and reality is established. On the one hand, the objective system of freedom as necessity exists, and, on the other, the rational in me is real as conscience. The Stoic principle has not yet reached to this more concrete attitude, as being on the one hand abstract morality, and, on the other, the subject that has a conscience. The freedom of self-consciousness in itself is the principle, but it has not yet attained to its concrete form, and its relation to happiness exists only in its determination as indifferent and contingent, which relation must be given up. In the concrete principle of rationality the condition of the world, as of my conscience, is not, however, indifferent.

This is a general description of Stoic morality; the main point is to recognize its point of view and chief relationships. Because in the Roman world a perfectly consistent position, and one conformable to existing conditions, has attained to the consciousness of itself, the philosophy of the Stoics has more specially found its home in the Roman world. The noble Romans have hence only proved the negative, an indifference to life and to all that is external; they could be great only in a subjective or negative manner—in the manner of a private individual. The Roman jurists are also said to have been likewise Stoic philosophers, but, on the one hand, we find that our teachers of Roman law only speak ill of Philosophy, and, on the other, they are yet sufficiently inconsistent to state it to the credit of the Roman jurists that they were philosophers. So far as I understand law, I can find in it, among the Romans, nothing either of thought, Philosophy or the Notion. If we are to call the reasoning of the understanding logical thought, they may indeed be held to be philosophers, but this is also present in the reasoning of Master Hugo, who certainly does not claim to be a philosopher. The reasoning of the understanding and the philosophic Notion are two different things. We shall now proceed to what is in direct contrast to the Stoic philosophy, Epicureanism.

B. EPICURUS.

The Epicurean philosophy, which forms the counterpart to Stoicism, was just as much elaborated as the Stoic, if, indeed, it were not more so. While the latter posited as truth existence for thought—the universal Notion—and held firmly to this principle, Epicurus, the founder of the other system, held a directly opposite view, regarding as the true essence not Being in general, but Being as sensation, that is, consciousness in the form of immediate particularity. As the Stoics did not seek the principle of the Cynics—that man must confine himself to the simplicity of nature—in man’s requirements, but placed it in universal reason, so Epicurus elevated the principle that happiness should be our chief end into the region of thought, by seeking pleasure in a universal which is determined through thought. And though, in so doing, he may have given a higher scientific form to the doctrines of the Cyrenaics. it is yet self-evident that if existence for sensation is to be regarded as the truth, the necessity for the Notion is altogether abrogated, and in the absence of speculative interest things cease to form a united whole, all things being in point of fact lowered to the point of view of the ordinary human understanding. Notwithstanding this proviso, before we take this philosophy into consideration, we must carefully divest ourselves of all the ideas commonly prevalent regarding Epicureanism.

As regards the life of Epicurus, he was born in the Athenian village of Gargettus in Ol. 109, 3 (B.C. 342), and therefore before the death of Aristotle, which took place in Ol. 114, 3. His opponents, especially the Stoics, have raked up against him more accusations than I can tell of, and have invented the most trivial anecdotes respecting his doings. He had poor parents; his father, Neocles, was village schoolmaster, and Chærestrata, his mother, was a sorceress: that is, she earned money, like the women of Thrace and Thessaly, by furnishing spells and incantations, as was quite common in those days. The father, taking Epicurus with him, migrated with an Athenian colony to Samos, but here also he was obliged to give instruction to children, because his plot of land was not sufficient for the maintenance of his family. At the age of about eighteen years, just about the time when Aristotle was living in Chalcis, Epicurus returned to Athens. He had already, in Samos, made the philosophy of Democritus a special subject of study, and now in Athens he devoted himself to it more than ever; in addition to this, he was on intimate terms with several of the philosophers then flourishing, such as Xenocrates, the Platonist, and Theophrastus, a follower of Aristotle. When Epicurus was twelve years old, he read with his teacher Hesiod’s account of Chaos, the source of all things; and this was perhaps not without influence on his philosophic views. Otherwise he professed to be self-taught, in the sense that he produced his philosophy entirely from himself; but we are not to suppose from this that he did not attend the lectures or study the writings of other philosophers. Neither is it to be understood that he was altogether original in his philosophy as far as content was concerned; for, as will be noted later, his physical philosophy especially is that of Leucippus and Democritus. It was at Mitylene in Lesbos that he first came forward as teacher of an original philosophic system, and then again at Lampsacus in Asia Minor; he did not, however, find very many hearers. After having for some years led an unsettled life, he returned in about the six and thirtieth year of his age to Athens, to the very centre of all Philosophy; and there, some time after, he bought for himself a garden, where he lived and taught in the midst of his friends. Though so frail in body that for many years he was unable to rise from his chair, in his manner of living he was most regular and frugal, and he devoted himself entirely to science, to the exclusion of all other interests. Even Cicero, though in other respects he has little to say in his favour, bears testimony to the warmth of his friendships, and adds that no one can deny he was a good, a humane, and a kindly man. Diogenes Laërtius gives special commendation to his reverence towards his parents, his generosity to his brothers, and his benevolence to all. He died of stone in the seventy-first year of his age. Just before his death he had himself placed in a warm bath, drank a cup of wine, and charged his friends to remember what he had taught them.[145]

No other teacher has ever been loved and reverenced by his scholars as much as Epicurus; they lived on such intimate terms of friendship that they determined to make common stock of their possessions with him, and so continue in a permanent association, like a kind of Pythagorean brotherhood. This they were, however, forbidden to do by Epicurus himself, because it would have betrayed a distrust in their readiness to share what they had with one another; but where distrust is possible, there neither friendship, nor unity, nor constancy of attachment can find a place. After his death he was held in honoured remembrance by his disciples: they carried about with them everywhere his likeness, engraved on rings or drinking-cups, and remained so faithful to his teaching that they considered it almost a crime to make any alteration in it (while in the Stoic philosophy development was continually going on), and his school, in respect of his doctrines, resembled a closely-barricaded state to which all entrance was denied. The reason for this lies, as we shall presently see, in his system itself; and the further result, from a scientific point of view, ensued that we can name no celebrated disciples of his who carried on and completed his teaching on their own account. For his disciples could only have gained distinction for themselves by going further than Epicurus did. But to go further would have been to reach the Notion, which would only have confused the system of Epicurus; for what is devoid of thought is thrown into confusion by the introduction of the Notion, and it is this very lack of thought which has been made a principle. Not that it is in itself without thought, but the use made of thought is to hold back thought, and thought thus takes up a negative position in regard to itself; and the philosophic activity of Epicurus is thus directed towards the restoration and maintaining of what is sensuous through the very Notion which renders it confused. Therefore his philosophy has not advanced nor developed, but it must also be said that it has not retrograded; a certain Metrodorus alone is said to have carried it on further in some directions. It is also told to the credit of the Epicurean philosophy that this Metrodorus was the only disciple of Epicurus who went over to Carneades; for the rest, it surpassed all others in its unbroken continuity of doctrine and its long duration; for all of them became degenerate or suffered interruption. When some one called the attention of Arcesilaus to this attachment to Epicurus, by the remark that while so many had gone over from other philosophers to Epicurus, scarcely a single example was known of any one passing over from the Epicurean system to another, Arcesilaus made the witty rejoinder: “Men may become eunuchs, but eunuchs can never again become men.”[146]

Epicurus himself produced in his lifetime an immense number of works, being a much more prolific author than Chrysippus, who vied with him in the number of his writings,[147] if we deduct from the latter his compilations from the works of others or from his own. The number of his writings is said to have amounted to three hundred; it is scarcely to be regretted that they are lost to us. We may rather thank Heaven that they no longer exist; philologists at any rate would have had great trouble with them. The main source of our knowledge of Epicurus is the whole of the tenth book of Diogenes Laërtius, which after all gives us but scanty information, though it deals with the subject at great length. We should, of course, have been better off had we possessed the philosopher’s own writings, but we know enough of him to make us honour the whole. For, besides this, we know a good deal about the philosophy of Epicurus through Cicero, Sextus Empiricus and Seneca; and so accurate are the accounts they give of him, that the fragment of one of Epicurus’s own writings, found some years ago in Herculaneum, and reprinted by Orelli from the Neapolitan edition (Epicuri Fragmenta libri II. et XI. De natura, illustr. Orellius, Lipsiæ 1818), has neither extended nor enriched our knowledge; so that we must in all earnestness deprecate the finding of the remaining writings.

With regard to the Epicurean philosophy, it is by no means to be looked on as setting forth a system of Notions, but, on the contrary, as a system of ordinary conceptions or even of sensuous existence, which, looked at from the ordinary point of view as perceived by the senses, Epicurus has made the very foundation and standard of truth (p. 277). A detailed explanation of how sensation can be such, he has given in his so-called Canonic. As in the case of the Stoics, we have first to speak of the manner which Epicurus adopted of determining the criterion of truth; secondly, of his philosophy of nature; and thirdly and lastly, of his moral teaching.

1. CANONICAL PHILOSOPHY.

Epicurus gave the name of Canonic to what is really a system of logic, in which he defines the criteria of truth, in regard to the theoretic, as in fact sensuous perceptions, and, further, as conceptions or anticipations (προλήψεις); in regard to the practical, as the passions, impulses, and affections.[148]

a. On the theoretic side the criterion, closely considered, has, according to Epicurus, three moments, which are the three stages of knowledge; first, sensuous perception, as the side of the external; secondly, ordinary conception, as the side of the internal; thirdly, opinion (δόξα), as the union of the two.

α. “Sensuous perception is devoid of reason,” being what is given absolutely. “For it is not moved by itself, nor can it, if if is moved by something else, take away from or add to” that which it is, but it is exactly what it is. “It is beyond criticism or refutation. For neither can one sensation judge another, both being alike, since both have equal authority;”—when the presentations of sight are of the same kind, every one of them must admit the truth of all the rest. “Nor can one of them pass judgment on another when they are unlike, for they each have their value as differing;” red and blue, for example, are each something individual. “Nor can one sensation pass judgment on another when they are heterogeneous; for we give heed to all. Thought, in the same way, cannot criticize the senses; for all thought itself depends on the sensation,” which forms its content. But sensuous perception may go far wrong. “The truth of what our senses perceive is first evinced by this, that the power of perception remains with us; sight and hearing are permanent powers of this kind as much as the capacity of feeling pain. In this way even the unknown” (the unperceived) “may be indicated by means of that which appears” (perception). Of this conception of objects of perception which are not immediate we shall have to speak more particularly hereafter (p. 292) in dealing with physical science. “Thus all” (unknown, imperceptible) “thoughts originated in the senses either directly in respect of their chance origin or in respect of relationship, analogy, and combination; to these operations thought also contributes something,” namely as the formal connection of the sensuous conceptions. “The fancies of the insane or of our dreams are also true; for they act upon us, but that which is not real does not act.”[149] Thus every sensuous perception is explicitly true, in so far as it shows itself to be abiding, and that which is not apparent to our senses must be apprehended after the same manner as the perception known to us. We hear Epicurus say, just as we hear it said in everyday life: What I see and hear, or, speaking generally, what I perceive by my senses, comprises the existent; every such object of sense exists on its own account, one of them does not contradict the other, but all are on the same level of validity, and reciprocally indifferent. These objects of perception are themselves the material and content of thought, inasmuch as thought is continually making use of the images of these things.

β. “Ordinary conception is now a sort of comprehension (κατάληψις), or correct opinion or thought, or the universal indwelling power of thinking; that is to say, it is the recollection of that which has often appeared to us,”—the picture. “For instance, when I say, ‘this is a man,’ I, with the help of previous perceptions, at once by my power of representation recognize his form.” By dint of this repetition the sensuous perception becomes a permanent conception in me, which asserts itself; that is the real foundation of all that we hold true. These representations are universal, but certainly the Epicureans have not placed universality in the form of thinking, but only said it is caused by frequency of appearance. This is further confirmed by the name which is given to the image which has thus arisen within us. “Everything has its evidence (ἐναργές) in the name first conferred on it.”[150] The name is the ratification of the perception. The evidence which Epicurus terms ἐνάργεια is just the recognition of the sensuous through subsumption under the conceptions already possessed, and to which the name gives permanence; the evidence of a conception is therefore this, that we affirm an object perceptible by the senses to correspond with the image. That is the acquiescence which we have found taking place with the Stoics when thought gives its assent to a content; thought, however, which recognizes the thing as its own, and receives it into itself, with the Stoics remained formal only. With Epicurus the unity of the conception of the object with itself exists also as a remembrance in consciousness, which, however, proceeds from the senses; the image, the conception, is what harmonizes with a sense-perception. The recognition of the object is here an apprehension, not as an object of thought, but as an object of imagination; for apprehension belongs to recollection, to memory. The name, it is true, is something universal, belongs to thinking, makes the manifold simple, yea, is in a high degree ideal; but in such a way that its meaning and its content are the sensuous, and are not thus to be counted as simple, but as sensuous. In this way opinion is established instead of knowledge.

γ. In the last place, opinion is nothing but the reference of that general conception, which we have within us, to an object, a perception, or to the testimony of the senses; and that is the passing of a judgment. For in a conception we have anticipated that which comes directly before our eyes; and by this standard we pronounce whether something is a man, a tree, or not. “Opinion depends on something already evident to us, to which we refer when we ask how we know that this is a man or not. This opinion is also itself termed conception, and it may be either true or false:—true, when what we see before our eyes is corroborated or not contradicted by the testimony of the conception; false in the opposite case.”[151] That is to say, in opinion we apply a conception which we already possess, or the type, to an object which is before us, and which we then examine to see if it corresponds with our mental representation of it. Opinion is true if it corresponds with the type; and it has its criterion in perceiving whether it repeats itself as it was before or not. This is the whole of the ordinary process in consciousness, when it begins to reflect. When we have the conception, it requires the testimony that we have seen or still see the object in question. From the sensuous perceptions blue, sour, sweet, and so on, the general conceptions which we possess are formed; and when an object again comes before us, we recognize that this image corresponds with this object. This is the whole criterion, and a very trivial process it is; for it goes no further than the first beginnings of the sensuous consciousness, the immediate perception of an object. The next stage is without doubt this, that the first perception forms itself into a general image, and then the object which is present is subsumed under the general image. That kind of truth which anything has of which it can only be said that the evidence of the senses does not contradict it, is possessed by the conceptions of the unseen, for instance, the apprehension of heavenly phenomena: here we cannot approach nearer, we can see something indeed, but we cannot have the sensuous perception of it in its completeness; we therefore apply to it what we already know by other perceptions, if there is but some circumstance therein which is also present in that other perception or conception (_supra_, p. 282).

b. From these external perceptions of objects presently existing, with which we here began, the affections, the internal perceptions, which give the criteria for practical life are however distinguished; they are of two kinds, either pleasant or unpleasant. That is to say, they have as their content pleasure or satisfaction, and pain: the first, as that which peculiarly belongs to the perceiver, is the positive; but pain, as something alien to him, is the negative. It is these sensuous perceptions which determine action; they are the material from which general conceptions regarding what causes me pain or pleasure are formed; as being permanent they are therefore again conceptions, and opinion is again this reference of conception to perception, according to which I pass judgment on objects—affections, desires, and so on.[152] It is by this opinion, therefore, that the decision to do or to avoid anything is arrived at.

This constitutes the whole Canon of Epicurus, the universal standard of truth; it is so simple that nothing can well be simpler, and yet it is very abstract. It consists of ordinary psychological conceptions which are correct on the whole, but quite superficial; it is the mechanical view of conception having respect to the first beginnings of observation. But beyond this there lies another and quite different sphere, a field that contains determinations in themselves; and these are the criteria by which the statements of Epicurus must be judged. Nowadays even Sceptics are fond of speaking of facts of consciousness; this sort of talk goes no further than the Epicurean Canon.

2. METAPHYSICS.

In the second place, Epicurus enters on a metaphysical explanation of how we are related to the object; for sensuous perception and outside impressions he unhesitatingly regards as our relation to external things, so that he places the conceptions in me, the objects outside of me. In raising the question of how we come by our conceptions, there lies a double question: on the one hand, since sense-perceptions are not like conceptions, but require an external object, what is the objective manner in which the images of external things enter into us? On the other hand, it may be asked how conceptions of such things as are not matter of perception arise in us; this seems to be an activity of thought, which derives conceptions such as these from other conceptions; we shall, however, see presently (pp. 287, 288) and more in detail, how the soul, which is here related to the object in independent activity, arrives at such a point.

“From the surfaces of things,” says Epicurus in the first place, “there passes off a constant stream, which cannot be detected by our senses” (for things would in any other case decrease in size) and which is very fine; “and this because, by reason of the counteracting replenishment, the thing itself in its solidity long preserves the same arrangement and disposition of the atoms; and the motion through the air of these surfaces which detach themselves is of the utmost rapidity, because it is not necessary that what is detached should have any thickness;” it is only a surface. Epicurus says, “Such a conception does not contradict our senses, when we take into consideration how pictures produce their effects in a very similar way, I mean by bringing us into sympathy with external things. Therefore emanations, like pictures, pass out from them into us, so that we see and know the forms and colours of things.”[153] This is a very trivial way of representing sense-perception. Epicurus took for himself the easiest criterion of the truth that is not seen, a criterion still in use, namely that it is not contradicted by what we see or hear. For in truth such matters of thought as atoms, the detachment of surfaces, and so forth, are beyond our powers of sight. Certainly we manage to see and to hear something different; but there is abundance of room for what is seen and what is conceived or imagined to exist alongside of one another. If the two are allowed to fall apart, they do not contradict each other; for it is not until we relate them that the contradiction becomes apparent.

“Error,” as Epicurus goes on to say on the second point “comes to pass when, through the movement that takes place within us on the conception therein wrought, such a change is effected that the conception can no longer obtain for itself the testimony of perception. There would be no truth, no likeness of our perceptions, which we receive as in pictures or in dreams or in any other way, if there were nothing on which we, as it were, put out our faculty of observation. There would be no untruth if we did not receive into ourselves another movement, which, to be sure, is conformable to the entering in of the conception, but which has at the same time an interruption.”[154] Error is therefore, according to Epicurus, only a displacement of the pictures in us, which does not proceed from the movement of perception, but rather from this, that we check their influence by a movement originating in ourselves; how this interruption is brought about will be shown more fully later on (pp. 290, 300).

The Epicurean theory of knowledge reduces itself to these few passages, some of which are also obscurely expressed, or else not very happily selected or quoted by Diogenes Laërtius; it is impossible to have a theory less explicitly stated. Knowledge, on the side of thought, is determined merely as a particular movement which makes an interruption; and as Epicurus, as we have already seen, looks on things as made up of a multitude of atoms, thought is the moment which is different from the atoms, the vacuum, the pores, whereby resistance to this stream of atoms is rendered possible. If this negative is also again, as soul, affirmative, Epicurus in the notional determination of thinking has only reached this negativity, that we look away from something, _i.e._ we interrupt that inflowing stream. The answer to the question of what this interrupting movement exactly is, when taken for itself, is connected with the more advanced conceptions of Epicurus; and in order to discuss them more in detail, we must go back to the implicit basis of his system.

This constitutes on the whole the metaphysic of Epicurus; in it he has expounded his doctrine of the atom, but not with greater definiteness than did Leucippus and Democritus. The essence and the truth of things were to him, as they were to them, atoms and vacuum: “Atoms have no properties except figure, weight and magnitude.” Atoms, as atoms, must remain undetermined; but the Atomists have been forced to take the inconsistent course of ascribing properties to them: the quantitative properties of magnitude and figure, the qualitative property of weight. But that which is in itself altogether indivisible can have neither figure nor magnitude; and even weight, direction upon something else, is opposed to the abstract repulsion of the atom. Epicurus even says: “Every property is liable to change, but the atoms change not. In all dissolutions of the composite, something must remain a constant and indissoluble, which no change can transform into that which is not, or bring from non-being into Being. This unchangeable element, therefore, is constituted by some bodies and figures. The properties are a certain relation of atoms to each other.”[155] In like manner we have already seen with Aristotle (p. 178) that the tangible is the foundation of properties: a distinction which under various forms is still always made and is in common use. We mean by this that an opposition is established between fundamental properties, such as we here have in weight, figure and magnitude, and sensuous properties, which are only in relation to us, and are derived from the former original differences. This has frequently been understood as if weight were in things, while the other properties were only in our senses: but, in general, the former is the moment of the implicit, or the abstract essence of the thing, while the latter is its concrete existence, which expresses its relation to other things.

The important matter now would be to indicate the relation of atoms to sensuous appearance, to allow essence to pass over into the negative: but here Epicurus rambles amidst the indeterminate which expresses nothing; for we perceive in him, as in the other physicists, nothing but an unconscious medley of abstract ideas and realities. All particular forms, all objects, light, colour, &c., the soul itself even, are nothing but a certain arrangement of these atoms. This is what Locke also said, and even now Physical Science declares that the basis of things is found in molecules, which are arranged in a certain manner in space. But these are empty words, and a crystal, for instance, is not a certain arrangement of parts, which gives this figure. It is thus not worth while to deal with this relation of atoms; for it is an altogether formal way of speaking, as when Epicurus again concedes that figure and magnitude, in so far as pertaining to atoms, are something different from what they are as they appear in things. The two are not altogether unlike; the one, implicit magnitude, has something in common with apparent magnitude. The latter is transitory, variable; the former has no interrupted parts,[156] that is, nothing negative. But the determination of the atoms, as originally formed in this or that fashion, and having original magnitude of such and such a kind, is a purely arbitrary invention. That interruption, which we regarded above (p. 288) as the other side to atoms, or as vacuum, is the principle of movement: for the movement of thought is also like this and has interruptions. Thought in man is the very same as atoms and vacuum are in things, namely their inward essence; that is to say, atoms and vacuum belong to the movement of thought, or exist for this in the same way as things are in their essential nature. The movement of thinking is thus the province of the atoms of the soul; so that there takes place simultaneously therein an interruption of the inward flow of atoms from without. There is therefore nothing further to be seen in this than the general principle of the positive and negative, so that even thought is affected by a negative principle, the moment of interruption. This principle of the Epicurean system, further applied to the difference in things, is the most arbitrary and therefore the most wearisome that can be imagined.

Besides their different figures, atoms have also, as the fundamental mode in which they are affected, a difference of movement, caused by their weight; but this movement to some extent deviates from the straight line in its direction. That is to say, Epicurus ascribes to atoms a curvilinear movement, in order that they may impinge on one another and so on.[157] In this way there arise particular accumulations and configurations; and these are things.

Other physical properties, such as taste and smell, have their basis again in another arrangement of the molecules. But there is no bridge from this to that, or what results is simply empty tautology, according to which the parts are arranged and combined as is requisite in order that their appearance may be what it is. The transition to bodies of concrete appearance Epicurus has either not made at all, or what has been cited from him as far as this matter is concerned, taken by itself, is extremely meagre.

The opinion that one hears expressed respecting the Epicurean philosophy is in other respects not unfavourable; and for this reason some further details must be given regarding it. For since absolute Being is constituted by atoms scattered and disintegrated, and by vacuum, it directly follows that Epicurus denies to these atoms any relationship to one another which implies purpose. All that we call forms and organisms, or generally speaking, the unity of Nature’s end, in his way of thinking, belongs to qualities, to an external connection of the configurations of the atoms, which in this way is merely an accident, brought about by their chance-directed motion; the atoms accordingly form a merely superficial unity, and one which is not essential to them. Or else Epicurus altogether denies that Notion and the Universal are the essential, and because all originations are to him chance combinations, for him their resolution is just as much a matter of chance. The divided is the first and the truly existent, but at the same time chance or external necessity is the law which dominates all cohesion. That Epicurus should in this fashion declare himself against a universal end in the world, against every relation of purpose—as, for instance, the inherent conformity to purpose of the organism—and, further, against the teleological representations of the wisdom of a Creator in the world, his government, &c., is a matter of course; for he abrogates unity, whatever be the manner in which we represent it, whether as Nature’s end in itself, or as end which is in another, but is carried out in Nature. In contrast to this, the teleological view enters largely into the philosophy of the Stoics, and is there very fully developed. To show that conformity to an end is lacking, Epicurus brings forward the most trivial examples; for instance, that worms and so on are produced by chance from mud through the warmth of the sun. Taken in their entirety, they may very well be the work of chance in relation to others; but what is implicit in them, their Notion and essence is something organic: and the comprehension of this is what we have now to consider. But Epicurus banishes thought as implicit, without its occurring to him that his atoms themselves have this very nature of thought; that is, their existence in time is not immediate but essentially mediate, and thus negative or universal;—the first and only inconsistency that we find in Epicurus, and one which all empiricists are guilty of. The Stoics take the opposite course of finding essential Being in the object of thought or the universal; and they fail equally in reaching the content, temporal existence, which, however, they most inconsistently assume. We have here the metaphysics of Epicurus; nothing that he says farther on this head is of interest.

3. PHYSICS.

The natural philosophy of Epicurus is based on the above foundation; but an aspect of interest is given it by the fact that it is still peculiarly the method of our times; his thoughts on particular aspects of Nature are, however, in themselves feeble and of little weight, containing nothing but an ill-considered medley of all manner of loose conceptions. Going further, the principle of the manner in which Epicurus looks on nature, lies in the conceptions he forms, which we have already had before us (pp. 282, 285). That is to say, the general representations which we receive through the repetition of several perceptions, and to which we relate such perceptions in forming an opinion, must be then applied to that which is not exactly matter of perception, but yet has something in common with what we can perceive. In this way it comes about that by such images we can apprehend the unknown which does not lend itself immediately to perception; for from what is known we must argue to what is unknown. This is nothing else but saying that Epicurus judged by analogy, or that he makes so-called evidence the principle of his view of Nature; and this is the principle which to this day has authority in ordinary physical science. We go through experiences and make observations, these arising from the sensuous perceptions which are apt to be overlooked. Thus we reach general concepts, laws, forces, and so on, electricity and magnetism, for instance, and these are then applied by us to such objects and activities as we cannot ourselves directly perceive. As an example, we know about the nerves and their connection with the brain; in order that there may be feeling and so on, it is said that a transmission from the finger-tips to the brain takes place. But how can we represent this to ourselves? We cannot make it a matter of observation. By anatomy we can lay bare the nerves, it is true, but not the manner of their working. We represent these to ourselves on the analogy of other phenomena of transmission, for instance as the vibration of a tense string that passes through the nerves to the brain. As in the well-known phenomenon of a number of billiard balls set close together in a row, the last of which rolls away when the first is struck, while those in the middle, through each of which the effect of the stroke has been communicated to the next, scarcely seem to move, so we represent to ourselves the nerves as consisting of tiny balls which are invisible even through the strongest magnifying glass, and fancy that at every touch, &c., the last springs off and strikes the soul. In the same way light is represented as filaments, rays, or as vibrations of the ether, or as globules of ether, each of which strikes on the other. This is an analogy quite in the manner of Epicurus.

In giving such explanations as those above, Epicurus professed to be most liberal, fair and tolerant, saying that all the different conceptions which occur to us in relation to sensuous objects—at our pleasure, we may say,—can be referred to that which we cannot ourselves directly observe; we should not assert any one way to be the right one, for many ways may be so. In so saying, Epicurus is talking idly; his words fall on the ear and the fancy, but looked on more narrowly they disappear. So, for instance, we see the moon shine, without being able to have any nearer experience of it. On this subject Epicurus says: “The moon may have its own light, or a light borrowed from the sun; for even on earth we see things which shine of themselves, and many which are illuminated by others. Nothing hinders us from observing heavenly things in the light of various previous experiences, and from adopting hypotheses and explanations in accordance with these. The waxing and waning of the moon may also be caused by the revolution of this body, or through changes in the air” (according as vapour is modified in one way or another), “or also by means of adding and taking away somewhat: in short, in all the ways whereby that which has a certain appearance to us is caused to show such appearance.” Thus there are to be found in Epicurus all these trivialities of friction, concussion, &c., as when he gives his opinion of lightning on the analogy of how we see fire of other kinds kindled: “Lightning is explained by quite a large number of possible conceptions; for instance, that through the friction and collision of clouds the figuration of fire is emitted, and lightning is produced.” In precisely the same way modern physicists transfer the production of an electric spark, when glass and silk are rubbed against each other, to the clouds. For, as we see a spark both in lightning and electricity, we conclude from this circumstance common to both that the two are analogical; therefore, we come to the conclusion that lightning also is an electric phenomenon. But clouds are not hard bodies, and by moisture electricity is more likely to be dispersed; therefore, such talk has just as little truth in it as the fancy of Epicurus. He goes on to say: “Or lightning may also be produced by being expelled from the clouds by means of the airy bodies which form lightning—by being struck out when the clouds are pressed together either by each other or by the wind,” &c. With the Stoics things are not much better. Application of sensuous conceptions according to analogy is often termed comprehension or explanation, but in reality there is in such a process not the faintest approach to thought or comprehension. “One man,” adds Epicurus, “may select; one of these modes, and reject the others, not considering what is possible for man to know, and what is impossible, and therefore striving to attain to a knowledge of the unknowable.”[158]

This application of sensuous images to what has a certain similarity to them, is pronounced to be the basis and the knowledge of the cause, because, in his opinion, a transference such as this cannot be corroborated by the testimony of mere immediate sensation; thus the Stoic method of seeking a basis in thought is excluded, and in this respect the mode of explanation adopted by Epicurus is directly opposed to that of the Stoics. One circumstance which strikes us at once in Epicurus is the lack of observation and experience with regard to the mutual relations of bodies: but the kernel of the matter, the principle, is nothing else than the principle of modern physics. This method of Epicurus has been attacked and derided, but on this score no one need be ashamed of or fight shy of it, if he is a physicist; for what Epicurus says is not a whit worse than what the moderns assert. Indeed, in the case of Epicurus the satisfactory assurance is likewise always present of his emphasizing the fact most strongly that just because the evidence of the senses is found to be lacking, we must not take our stand on any one analogy. Elsewhere he in the same way makes light of analogy, and when one person accepts this possibility and another that other possibility, he admires the cleverness of the second and troubles himself little about the explanation given by the first; it may be so, or it may not be so.[159] This is a method devoid of reason, which reaches no further than to general conceptions. Nevertheless, if Physical Science is considered to relate to immediate experience on the one hand, and, on the other hand—in respect of that which cannot be immediately experienced—to relate to the application of the above according to a resemblance existing between it and that which is not matter of experience, in that case Epicurus may well be looked on as the chief promoter, if not the originator of this method, and also as having asserted that it is identical with knowledge. Of the Epicurean method in philosophy we may say this, that it likewise has a side on which it possesses value, and we may in some measure assent when we hear, as we frequently do, the Epicurean physics favourably spoken of. Aristotle and the earlier philosophers took their start in natural philosophy from universal thought _a priori_, and from this developed the Notion; this is the one side. The other side, which is just as necessary, demands that experience should be worked up into universality, that laws should be found out; that is to say, that the result which follows from the abstract Idea should coincide with the general conception to which experience and observation have led up. The _a priori_ is with Aristotle, for instance, most excellent but not sufficient, because to it there is lacking connection with and relation to experience and observation. This leading up of the particular to the universal is the finding out of laws, natural forces, and so on. It may thus be said that Epicurus is the inventor of empiric Natural Science, of empiric Psychology. In contrast to the Stoic ends, conceptions of the understanding, experience is the present as it appears to the senses: there we have abstract limited understanding, without truth in itself, and therefore without the present in time and the reality of Nature; here we have this sense of Nature, which is more true than these other hypotheses.

The same effect which followed the rise of a knowledge of natural laws, &c., in the modern world was produced by the Epicurean philosophy in its own sphere, that is to say, in so far as it is directed against the arbitrary invention of causes. The more, in later times, men made acquaintance with the laws of Nature, the more superstition, miracles, astrology, &c. disappeared; all this fades away owing to the contradiction offered to it by the knowledge of natural laws. The method of Epicurus was directed more especially against the senseless superstition of astrology, &c., in whose methods there is neither reason nor thought, for it is quite a thing of the imagination, downright fabrication being resorted to, or what we may even term lying. In contrast with this, the way in which Epicurus works, when the conceptions and not thought are concerned, accords with truth. For it does not go beyond what is perceived by the sight, and hearing, and the other senses, but keeps to what is present and not alien to the mind, not speaking of certain things as if they could be seen and heard, when that is quite impossible, seeing that the things are pure inventions. The effect of the Epicurean philosophy in its own time was therefore this, that it set itself against the superstition of the Greeks and Romans, and elevated men above it.[160] All the nonsense about birds flying to right or to left, or a hare running across the path, or men deciding how they are to act according to the entrails of animals, or according as chickens are lively or dull—all that kind of superstition the Epicurean philosophy made short work of, by permitting that only to be accepted as truth which is counted as true by sense perception through the instrumentality of anticipations; and from it more than anything those conceptions which have altogether denied the supersensuous have proceeded. The physics of Epicurus were therefore famous for the reason that they introduced more enlightened views in regard to what is physical, and banished the fear of the gods. Superstition passes straightway from immediate appearances to God, angels, demons; or it expects from finite things other effects than the conditions admit of, phenomena of a higher kind. To this the Epicurean natural philosophy is utterly opposed, because in the sphere of the finite it refuses to go beyond the finite, and admits finite causes alone; for the so-called enlightenment is the fact of remaining in the sphere of the finite. There connection is sought for in other finite things, in conditions which are themselves conditioned; superstition, on the contrary, rightly or wrongly, passes at once to what is above us. However correct the Epicurean method may be in the sphere of the conditioned, it is not so in other spheres. Thus if I say that electricity comes from God, I am right and yet wrong. For if I ask for a cause in this same sphere of the conditioned, and give God as answer, I say too much; though this answer fits all questions, since God is the cause of everything, what I would know here is the particular connection of the phenomenon. On the other hand, in this sphere even the Notion is already something higher; but this loftier way of looking at things which we met with in the earlier philosophers, was quite put an end to by Epicurus, since with superstition there also passed away self-dependent connection and the world of the Ideal.

To the natural philosophy of Epicurus there also belongs his conception of the soul, which he looks on as having the nature of a thing, just as the theories of our own day regard it as nerve-filaments, cords in tension, or rows of minute balls (p. 294). His description of the soul has therefore but little meaning, since here also he draws his conclusion by analogy, and connects therewith the metaphysical theory of atoms: “The soul consists of the finest and roundest atoms, which are something quite different from fire, being a fine spirit which is distributed through the whole aggregate of the body, and partakes of its warmth.” Epicurus has consequently established a quantitative difference only, since these finest atoms are surrounded by a mass of coarser atoms and dispersed through this larger aggregate. “The part which is devoid of reason is dispersed in the body” as the principle of life, “but the self-conscious part (τὸ λογικόν) is in the breast, as may be perceived from joy and sadness. The soul is capable of much change in itself, owing to the fineness of its parts, which can move very rapidly: it sympathizes with the rest of the aggregate, as we see by the thoughts, emotions and so on; but when it is taken away from us we die. But the soul, on its part, has also the greatest sympathy with sensuous perception; yet it would have nothing in common with it, were it not in a certain measure covered by the rest of the aggregate” (the body)—an utterly illogical conception. “The rest of this aggregate, which this principle provides for the soul, is thereby also partaker, on its part, of a like condition” (sensuous perception), “yet not of all that the former possesses; therefore, when the soul escapes, sensuous perception exists no more for it. The aggregate spoken of above has not this power in itself, but derives it from the other which is brought into union with it, and the sentient movement comes to pass through the flow of sympathy which they have in common.”[161] Of such conceptions it is impossible to make anything. The above-mentioned (p. 287) interruption of the streaming together of images of external things with our organs, as the ground of error, is now explained by the theory that the soul consists of peculiar atoms, and the atoms are separated from one another by vacuum. With such empty words and meaningless conceptions we shall no longer detain ourselves; we can have no respect for the philosophic thoughts of Epicurus, or rather he has no thoughts for us to respect.

4. ETHICS.

Besides this description of the soul the philosophy of mind contains the ethics of Epicurus, which of all his doctrines are the most decried, and therefore the most interesting; they may, however, also be said to constitute the best part of that philosophy. The practical philosophy of Epicurus depends on the individuality of self-consciousness, just as much as does that of the Stoics; and the end of his ethics is in a measure the same, the unshaken tranquillity of the soul, and more particularly an undisturbed pure enjoyment of itself. Of course, if we regard the abstract principle involved in the ethics of Epicurus, our verdict cannot be other than exceedingly unfavourable. For if sensation, the feeling of pain and pleasure, is the criterion for the right, good, true, for that which man should make his aim in life, morality is really abrogated, or the moral principle is in fact not moral; at least we hold that the way is thereby opened up to all manner of arbitrariness in action. If it is now alleged that feeling is the ground of action, and that because I find a certain impulse in myself it is for that reason right—this is Epicurean reasoning. Everyone may have different feelings, and the same person, may feel differently at different times; in the same way with Epicurus it may be left to the subjectivity of the individual to determine the course of action. But it is of importance to notice this, that when Epicurus sets tip pleasure as the end, he concedes this only so far as its enjoyment is the result of philosophy. We have before now remarked (vol. i., p. 470) that even with the Cyrenaics, while on the one hand sensation was certainly made the principle, on the other hand it was essential that thought should be in intimate connection with it. Similarly it is the case with Epicurus that while he designated pleasure as the criterion of the good, he demanded a highly cultured consciousness, a power of reflection, which weighs pleasure to see if it is not combined with a greater degree of pain, and in this way forms a correct estimate of what it is. Diogenes Laërtius (X. 144) quotes from him with regard to this point of view: “The wise man owes but little to chance; Reason attains what is of the greatest consequence, and both directs it and will direct it his whole life long.” The particular pleasure is therefore regarded only with reference to the whole, and sensuous perception is not the one and only principle of the Epicureans; but while they made pleasure the principle, they made a principle at the same time of that happiness which is attained, and only attainable by reason; so that this happiness is to be sought in such a way that it may be free and independent of external contingencies, the contingencies of sensation. The true Epicureans were therefore, just as much as the Stoics, raised above all particular ties, for Epicurus, too, made his aim the undisturbed tranquillity of the wise man. In order to be free from superstition Epicurus specially requires physical science, as it sets men free from all the opinions which most disturb their rest—opinions regarding the gods, and their punishments, and more particularly from the thought of death.[162] Freed from all this fear, and from the imaginings of the men who make any particular object their end and aim, the wise man seeks pleasure only as something universal, and holds this alone to be positive. Here the universal and the particular meet; or the particular, regarded only in its bearings to the whole, is raised into the form of universality. Thus it happens that, while materially, or as to content, Epicurus makes individuality a principle, on the other hand he requires the universality of thinking, and his philosophy is thus in accordance with that of the Stoics.

Seneca, who is known as a thorough-going and uncompromising Stoic, when in his treatise _De Vita Beata_ (c. 12, 13) he happens to speak of the Epicureans, gives testimony which is above suspicion to the ethical system of Epicurus: “My verdict is, however—and in thus speaking I go, to some extent, against many of my own countrymen—that the moral precepts of Epicurus prescribe a way of life that is holy and just, and, when closely considered, even sorrowful. For every pleasure of Epicurus turns on something very paltry and poor, and we scarcely know how restricted it is, and how insipid. The self-same law which we lay down for virtue he prescribes for pleasure; he requires that Nature be obeyed; but very little in the way of luxury is required to satisfy Nature. What have we then here? He who calls a lazy, self-indulgent, and dissolute life happiness merely seeks a good authority for a thing that is evil, and while, drawn on by a dazzling name, he turns in the direction where he hears the praise of pleasure sounding, he does not follow the pleasures to which he is invited by Epicurus, but those which he himself brings with him. Men who thus abandon themselves to crime seek only to hide their wickedness under the mantle of philosophy, and to furnish for their excesses a pretext and an excuse. Thus it is by no means permitted that youth should hold up its head again for the reason that to the laxity of its morality an honourable title has been affixed.” By the employment of our reflective powers, which keep guard over pleasure and consider whether there can be any enjoyment in that which is fraught with dangers, fear, anxiety and other troubles, the possibility of our obtaining pleasure pure and unalloyed is reduced to a minimum. The principle of Epicurus is to live in freedom and ease, and with the mind at rest, and to this end it is needful to renounce much of that which men allow to sway them, and in which they find their pleasure. The life of a Stoic is therefore but little different from that of an Epicurean who keeps well before his eyes what Epicurus enjoins.

It might perhaps occur to us that the Cyrenaics had the same moral principle as the Epicureans, but Diogenes Laërtius (X. 139, 136, 137) shows us the difference that there was between them. The Cyrenaics rather made pleasure as a particular thing their end, while Epicurus, on the contrary, regarded it as a means, since he asserted painlessness to be pleasure, and allowed of no intermediate state. “Neither do the Cyrenaics recognize pleasure in rest (καταστηματικήν), but only in the determination of motion,” or as something affirmative, that consists in the enjoyment of the pleasant; “Epicurus, on the contrary, admits both—the pleasure of the body as well as that of the soul.” He meant by this that pleasure in rest is negative, as the absence of the unpleasant, and also an inward contentment, whereby rest is maintained within the mind. Epicurus explained these two kinds of pleasure more clearly as follows: “Freedom from fear and desire (ἀταραξία) and from pain and trouble (ἀπονία) are the passive pleasures (καταστηματικὶα ἡδοναί),”—the setting of our affections on nothing which we may run the risk of losing; pleasures of the senses, on the other hand, like “joy and mirth (χαρὰ δὲ καὶ εὐφροσύνη), are pleasures involving movement (κατὰ κίνησιν ἐνεργείᾳ βλέπονται.9)” The former pleasures Epicurus held to be the truest and highest. “Besides this, pain of the body was held by the Cyrenaics to be worse than sorrow of the soul, while with the Epicureans this is reversed.”

The main teaching of Epicurus in respect of morals is contained in a letter to Men\nceus, which Diogenes Laërtius has preserved, and in which Epicurus expresses himself as follows: “The youth must neither be slow to study philosophy, nor must the old man feel it a burden, for no one is either too young or too old to study the health of his soul. We must therefore endeavour to find out wherein the happy life consists; the following are its elements: First, we must hold that God is a living Being, incorruptible and happy, as the general belief supposes Him to be; and that nothing is lacking to His incorruptibility nor to His happiness. But though the existence of the gods is known to be a fact, yet they are not such as the multitude suppose them to be. He is therefore not impious who discards his faith in the gods of the multitude, but he who applies to them the opinions entertained of them by the mass.” By these gods of Epicurus we can understand nothing else than the Holy, the Universal, in concrete form. The Stoics held more to the ordinary conception, without indeed giving much thought to the Being of God; with the Epicureans, on the other hand, the gods express an immediate Idea of the system. Epicurus says: “That which is holy and incorruptible has itself no trouble nor causes it to others; therefore it is unstirred by either anger or show of favour, for it is in weakness only that such find a place. The gods may be known by means of Reason; they consist partly in Number; others are the perfected type of man, which, owing to the similarity of the images, arises from the continuous confluence of like images on one and the same subject.”[163] The gods are thus the altogether general images which we receive into ourselves; and Cicero says (De Natura Deorum, 18, 38) that they come singly upon us in sleep. This general image, which is at the same time an anthropomorphic conception, is the same to which we give the name of Ideal, only that here the source assigned to it is the reiterated occurrence of images. The gods thus seem to Epicurus to be Ideals of the holy life; they are also existent things, consisting of the finest atoms; they are, however, pure souls, unmixed with any grosser element, and therefore exempt from toil and trouble and pain. Their self-enjoyment is wholly passive, as it must be if consistent, for action has always in it something alien, the opposition of itself and reality, and the toil and trouble which are involved in it really represent the aspect of consciousness of opposition rather than that of realization. The gods lead an existence of pure and passive self enjoyment, and trouble themselves not with the affairs of the world and of men. Epicurus goes on to say: “Men must pay reverence to the gods on account of the perfection of their nature and their surpassing holiness, not in order to gain from them some special good, or for the sake of this or that advantage,”[164] The manner in which Epicurus represents the gods as corporeal Beings in human likeness has been much derided; thus Cicero, for instance, in the passage quoted (c. 18) laughs at Epicurus for alleging that the gods have only _quasi_ bodies, flesh and blood. But from this there follows only that they are, as it were, the implicit, as we see it stated of the soul and things palpable to the senses, that they have behind them what is implicit. Our talk of qualities is no better; for if justice, goodness, and so on, are to be taken _in sensu eminentiori_, and not as they are with men, we have in God a Being in the same way possessed of only something resembling justice and the other qualities. With this there is closely connected the theory of Epicurus that the gods dwell in vacant space, in the intermediate spaces of the world, where they are exposed neither to rain or wind or snow or the like.[165] For the intermediate spaces are the vacuum, wherein, as the principle of movement, are the atoms in themselves. Worlds, as phenomena, are complete continuous concretions of such atoms, but concretions which are only external relations. Between them, as in vacuum, there are thus these Beings also, which themselves are certainly concretions of atoms, but concretions which remain implicit. Yet this leads only to confusion, if a closer definition is given, for concretion constitutes what is for the senses, but the gods, even if they were concretions, would not be realities exactly such as these. In illogical fashion the general, the implicit, is taken out of reality and set above it, not as atoms, but just as before, as a combination of these atoms; in this way this combination is not itself the sensuous. This seems ridiculous, but it is connected with the interruptions spoken of, and with the relation of the vacuum to the plenum, the atom. So far, therefore, the gods belong to the category of negativity as against sensuality, and as this negative is thought, in that sense what Epicurus said of the gods may still to some extent be said. To this determination of God a larger measure of objectivity of course belongs, but it is a perfectly correct assertion that God, as Thought, is a holy Being, to whom reverence is due for His own sake alone. The first element in a happy life is therefore reverence for the gods, uninfluenced by fear or hope.

Further, a second point with Epicurus is the contemplation of death, the negative of existence, of self-consciousness in man; he requires us to have a true conception of death, because otherwise it disturbs our tranquillity. He accordingly says: “Accustom thyself then to the thought that death concerns us not; for all good and evil is a matter of sensation, but death is a deprivation (στέρησις) of sensation. Therefore the true reflection that death is no concern of ours, makes our mortal life one of enjoyment, since this thought does not add an endless length of days, but does away with the longing after immortality. For nothing in life has terrors for him who has once truly recognized the fact that not to live is not a matter of dread. Thus it is a vain thing to fear death, not because its presence but because the anticipation of it brings us pain. For how can the anticipation of a thing pain us when its reality does not? There is therefore in death nothing to trouble us. For when we are in life, death is not there, and when death is there, we are not. Therefore death does not concern either the living or the dead.” This is quite correct, if we look at the immediate; it is a thought full of meaning, and drives away fear. Mere privation, which death is, is not to be confounded with the feeling of being alive, which is positive; and there is no reason for worrying oneself about it. “But the future in general is neither ours, nor is it not ours; hence we must not count upon it as something that will come to pass, nor yet despair of it, as if it would not come to pass.”[166] It is no concern of ours either that it is or that it is not; and it need not therefore cause us uneasiness. This the right way in which to regard the future also.

Epicurus passes on to speak of impulses, saying: “This moreover is to be kept in mind, that amongst impulses some are natural, but others are vain; and of those that are natural some are necessary while others are natural only. Those that are necessary are either necessary to happiness, or tend to save the body from pain, or to self-preservation in general. The perfect theory teaches how to choose that which promotes health of body and steadfastness of soul, and how to reject what impairs them, this being the aim of the holy life. This is the end of all our actions, to have neither pain of body nor uneasiness of mind. If we but attain to this, all turmoil of the soul is stilled, since the life no longer has to strive after something which it needs, and no longer has to seek anything outside of itself by which the welfare of soul and body is arrived at. But even on the supposition that pleasure is the first and the inborn good, we do not for that reason choose all pleasures, but many we renounce, when they are more than counterbalanced by their painful results; and many pains we prefer to pleasures, if there follows from them a pleasure that is greater. Contentment we hold to be a good, not that we may aim at merely reducing our requirements to a minimum, as the Cynics did, but that we may seek not to be discontented even when we have not very much, knowing that they most enjoy abundance who can do without it, and that what is naturally desired is easy to procure, while what is a mere idle fancy can be procured only with difficulty. Simple dishes afford just as much enjoyment as costly banquets, if they appease hunger. Therefore when we make pleasure our aim, it is not the enjoyments of the gourmand, as is often falsely thought, but freedom from both pain of body and uneasiness of mind. We attain to this life of happiness by sober reason alone, which examines the grounds of all choice and all rejection, and expels the thoughts by which the soul’s rest is most disturbed. It is surely better to be unhappy and reasonable than to be happy and unreasonable; for it is better that in our actions we should judge correctly than that we should be favoured by luck. Meditate on this day and night, and let thyself be shaken by nought from thy peace of soul, that thou mayest live as a god amongst men; for the man who lives amongst such imperishable treasures has nothing in common with mortal men. Of all those the first and foremost is reasonableness (φρόνησις), which on this account is still more excellent than philosophy; from it spring all the other virtues. For they show that one cannot live happily, unless he lives wisely and honourably and justly: nor can he live wisely and honourably and justly without living happily.”[167]

Therefore, although at first sight there seems not much to be said for the principle of Epicurus, nevertheless by means of the inversion of making the guiding principle to be found in thought proceeding from Reason, it passes into Stoicism, as even Seneca himself has admitted (_v. supra_, pp. 302, 303); and actually the same result is reached as with the Stoics. Hence the Epicureans describe their wise man in at least as glowing terms as the Stoics do theirs; and in both these systems the wise man is depicted with the same qualities, these being negative. With the Stoics the Universal is the essential principle,—not pleasure, the self-consciousness of the particular as particular; but the reality of this self-consciousness is equally something pleasant. With the Epicureans pleasure is the essential principle, but pleasure sought and enjoyed in such a way that it is pure and unalloyed, that is to say, in accordance with sound judgment, and with no greater evil following to destroy it: therefore pleasure is regarded in its whole extent, that is, as being itself a universal. In Diogenes Laërtius, however (X. 117-121), the Epicurean delineation of the wise man has a character of greater mildness; he shapes his conduct more according to laws already in operation, while the Stoic wise man, on the other hand, does not take these into account at all. The Epicurean wise man is less combative than the Stoic, because the latter makes his starting-point the thought of self-dependence, which, while denying self, exercises activity: the Epicureans, on the other hand, proceed from the thought of existence, which is not so exacting, and seeks not so much this activity directed outwards, as rest; this, however, is not won by lethargy, but by the highest mental culture. Yet although the content of the Epicurean philosophy, its aim and result, stands thus on as high a level as the Stoic philosophy, and is its exact parallel, the two are nevertheless in other respects directly opposed to one another; but each of these systems is one-sided, and therefore both of them are dogmatisms inconsistent with themselves by the necessity of the Notion, that is, they contain the contrary principle within them. The Stoics take the content of their thought from Being, from the sensuous, demanding that thought should be the thought of something existent: the Epicureans, on the contrary, extend their particularity of existence to the atoms which are only things of thought, and to pleasure as a universal; but in accordance with their respective principles, both schools know themselves to be definitely opposed to each other.

The negative mean to these one-sided principles is the Notion, which, abrogating fixed extremes of determination such as these, moves them and sets them free from a mere state of opposition. This movement of the Notion, the revival of dialectic—directed as it is against these one-sided principles of abstract thinking and sensation—we now see in its negative aspect, both in the New Academy and in the Sceptics. Even the Stoics, as having their principle in thought, cultivated dialectic, though theirs was (pp. 254, 255) a common logic, in which the form of simplicity passes for the Notion, while the Notion, as such, represents the negative element in it, and dissolves the determinations, which are taken up into that simplicity. There is a higher form of the Notion of dialectic reality, which not only applies itself to sensuous existence, but also to determinate Notions, and which brings to consciousness the opposition between thought and existence; not expressing the Universal as simple Idea, but as a universality in which all comes back into consciousness as an essential moment of existence. In Scepticism we now really have an abrogation of the two one-sided systems that we have hitherto dealt with; but this negative remains negative only, and is incapable of passing into an affirmative.

C. THE NEW ACADEMY.

As opposed to the Stoic and Epicurean Dogmatism, we first of all have the New Academy, which is a continuation of Plato’s Academy in as far as the followers of Plato are divided into the Old, Middle, and New Academies; some indeed allow of a fourth Academy and even a fifth.[168] The most noteworthy figures here are those of Arcesilaus and Carneades. The establishment of the Middle Academy is ascribed to Arcesilaus, and the New Academy is said to contain the philosophy of Carneades; but this distinction has no signification. Both of these are closely connected with Scepticism, and the Sceptics themselves have often trouble in distinguishing their standpoint from the Academic principle. Both have been claimed by Scepticism as Sceptics, but between the Academics and pure Scepticism a distinction has been drawn, which is certainly very formal, and has but little signification, but to which the Sceptics in their subtlety undoubtedly attached some meaning. The distinction often consists in the meanings of words only, and in quite external differences.

The standpoint of the Academics is that they express the truth as a subjective conviction of self-consciousness; and this tallies with the subjective idealism of modern times. The truth, in so far as it is only a subjective conviction, has hence been called, by the New Academy, the _probable_. Although followers of Plato, and hence, Platonists, the Academicians did not remain at the standpoint of Plato, nor could they have done so. But we easily see the connection of this principle with the Platonic doctrines, if we recollect that with Plato the Idea has been the principle, and that, indeed, on the whole, in the form of universality. Plato remained, as we saw above (pp. 139, 140), in the abstract Idea; to him the one great matter in Philosophy is to combine the infinite and finite. Plato’s Ideas are derived from the necessities of reason, from enthusiasm for the truth, but they are in themselves devoid of movement, and only universal, while Aristotle demands actuality, self-determining activity. Plato’s dialectic has only attempted to assert the universal as such, and to demonstrate the determinate and particular to be null, thus leaving nothing at all but abstract universality. His dialectic has hence very often a negative result, in which determinations are merely done away with and annulled. With Plato the working out of the concrete has thus not gone far, and where he, as in the Timæus, proceeds into the determinate, _e.g._ of organic life, he becomes infinitely trivial and quite unspeculative, while with Aristotle matters are very different. The necessity for a scientific ground has necessarily caused us to be carried on beyond this Platonic point of view. The Stoics and Epicureans were imbued with the scientific necessity, not yet recognized by Plato, of giving a content to the universal of the Idea, _i.e._ of grasping particular determinateness, but the succeeding Academicians stand in a negative attitude to them in this regard. To the end they made a point of holding to the Platonic universality, uniting to this the Platonic dialectic also. The principle of the New Academy could thus, like the Platonic dialectic, possess a dialectic attitude and bearing which proceeded to nothing affirmative; as, indeed, in many of Plato’s dialogues, mere confusion is what is arrived at. But while with Plato the affirmative result is essentially the result of dialectic, so that with him we have really found the universal Idea as species, during all this time, on the other hand, the tendency to abstract apprehension is predominant; and as this showed itself in the Stoic and Epicurean philosophy, it has also extended to the Platonic Idea and degraded it into being a form of the understanding. Plato’s Ideas were thus torn from their rest through thought, because in such universality thought has not yet recognized itself as self-consciousness. Self-consciousness confronted them with great pretensions, actuality in general asserted itself against universality; and the rest of the Idea necessarily passed into the movement of thought. This movement now, however, in the New Academy turned dialectically against the determination of the Stoics and Epicureans, which rested on the fact that the criterion of the truth ought to be a concrete. For example, in the conception as comprehended by the Stoics, there is a thought which likewise has a content, although, again, this union still remains very formal. But the two forms in which the dialectic of the New Academy turns against this concrete, are represented by Arcesilaus and Carneades.

1. ARCESILAUS.

Arcesilaus kept to the abstraction of the Idea as against the criterion; for though in the Idea of Plato, _i.e._ in the Timæus and in his dialectic, the concrete was derived from quite another source, this was only admitted for the first time later on by the Neo-platonists, who really recognized the unity of the Platonic and the Aristotelian principles. The opposition to the Dogmatists thus does not in the case of Arcesilaus proceed from the dialectic of the Sceptics, but from keeping to abstraction; and here we perceive the gulf marking out this epoch from any other.

Arcesilaus was born at Pitane in Æolia in the 116th Olympiad (318 B.C.), and was a contemporary of Epicurus and Zeno. Though he originally belonged to the Old Academy, yet the spirit of the time and the progressive development of Philosophy did not now admit of the simplicity of the Platonic manner. He possessed considerable means, and devoted himself entirely to the studies requisite for the education of a noble Greek, viz. to rhetoric, poetry, music, mathematics, &c. Mainly for the purpose of exercising himself in rhetoric, he came to Athens, here was introduced to Philosophy, and lived henceforth for its sake alone; he held intercourse with Theophrastus, Zeno, &c., and it is a subject of dispute whether he did not hear Pyrrho also. Arcesilaus, familiar with all the Philosophy of those days, was by his contemporaries held to be as noble a man as he was a subtle and acute philosopher; being without pride in himself, he recognized the merits of others. He lived in Athens, occupied the post of scholarch in the Academy, and was thus a successor of Plato. After the death of Crates, the successor of Speusippus, the place of honour in the Academy devolved on Sosicrates, but he willingly gave it up in favour of Arcesilaus on account of the superiority of the latter in talent and philosophy. What really happened as regards the transference of the chair to others, is, for the rest, unknown to us. He filled this office, in which he made use of the method of disputation, with approbation and applause, until his death, which took place in Olympiad 134, 4 (244 B.C.), in the seventy-fourth year of his age.[169]

The principal points in the philosophy of Arcesilaus are preserved by Cicero in his _Academics Quæstiones_, but Sextus Empiricus is more valuable as an authority, for he is more thorough, definite, philosophic and systematic.

_a._ This philosophy is specially known to us as being a dialectic directed against Stoicism, with which Arcesilaus had much to do, and its result, as far as its main principles are concerned, is expressed thus: “The wise man must restrain his approbation and assent.”[170] This principle was called ἐποχή, and it is the same as that of the Sceptics; on the other hand this expression is connected with the principle of the Stoics as follows. Because to Stoic philosophy truth consists in the fact that thought declares some content of existence to be its own, and the conception as comprehended gives its approbation to this content, the content of our conceptions, principles and thoughts undoubtedly appears to be different from thought, and the union of the two, which is the concrete, only arises by means of some determinate content being taken up into the form of thought and thus being expressed as the truth. But Arcesilaus saw this consequence, and his saying that approbation most be withheld is thus as much as saying that by thus taking up the content no truth comes to pass, but only phenomenon; and this is true, because, as Arcesilaus puts it, conception and thought likewise remain apart. Arcesilaus has certainly unthinkingly allowed that this content united to consciousness is a concrete such as was indicated, only he has asserted that this connection merely gives a perception with a good ground, and not what he calls truth. This is called probability, but not quite appropriately; it is a universal set forth through the form of thought, and is only formal, having no absolute truth. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, § 233) puts this plainly in saying that “Arcesilaus has declared the withholding of approbation in relation to parts, to be a good, but the assenting to parts to be an evil,” because the assent only concerns _parts_. That is, if thought is to be retained as a universal, it cannot come to be a criterion; and that is the meaning of Arcesilaus when he asks that the wise man should remain at the universal, and not go on to the determinate as if this determinate were the truth.

Sextus Empiricus gives us (adv. Math. VII. 155, 151-153) a more particular explanation of this philosophy, which is preserved to us only as being in opposition to the Stoics. Arcesilaus asserted as against the Stoics, that everything is incomprehensible (ἀκατάληπτα). He thus combated the conception of thought (καταληπτικὴν φαντασίαν), which to the Stoics is the point of most importance and the concrete truth. Arcesilaus further attacked the Stoics thus: “They themselves say that the conception of thought is the mean between scientific knowledge and opinion, the one of which pertains alone to fools and the other alone to wise men; the conception of thought is common to both, and the criterion of the truth. Arcesilaus here argued in such a way as to show that between scientific knowledge and opinion the conception of thought is no criterion, for it is either in the wise man or the fool, and in the former it is knowledge, and in the latter, opinion. If it is nothing excepting these, there remains to it nothing but an empty name.” For knowledge must be a developed consciousness derived from reasons, but these reasons, as conceptions of thought, Arcesilaus states to be just such thoughts as those of the fool. They are thus, no doubt, the concrete directing power which constitutes the principal content of our consciousness; but it is not proved that they are the truth. Thus this mean, as judging between reason and opinion, pertains equally to the wise man and the fool, and may be error or truth equally; and thus the wise man and the fool have the same criterion, and yet they must, in relation to the truth, be distinguished from one another.

Arcesilaus further gives effect to the distinctions which are more particularly brought up in modern times, and relied upon. “If comprehension is the assent given to a conception of thought, it does not exist. For, in the first place, the assent is not on account of a conception, but of a reason; that is to say, it is only as regards axioms that this assent holds good.”[171] That is good; more fully the purport would be something like this: Thought, as subjective, is made to assent to an existence which is a determinate content of the conception. A sensuous image such as this, however, is foreign to thought, and with it thought cannot accord, because it is something different from it, something from which thought, on the contrary, holds itself aloof. It is, in general, only to a thought that thought finds itself conformable, and only in a thought that it finds itself; thus only a universal axiom is capable of such accord, for only such abstract principles are immediately pure thoughts. Arcesilaus thus holds it up against the Stoics that their principle contains a contradiction within itself, because the conception of thought is made to be the thought of another, but thought can only think itself. This is a thought which concerns the inmost essence of the thing. Arcesilaus thus here makes the same celebrated distinction as in recent times has again been brought forward with so much force as the opposition between thought and Being, ideality and reality, subjective and objective. Things are something different from me. How can I attain to things? Thought is the independent determination of a content as universal; but a given content is individual and hence we cannot assent to such. The one is here, the other there; subjective and objective cannot pass to one another—this is a form of thought upon which for long the whole culture of modern philosophy has turned, and which we still find to-day. It is important to have a consciousness of this difference, and to assert this consciousness against the principle of the Stoics. It was of this unity of thought and reality that the Stoics ought to have given an account; and this they did not do, and indeed it was never done in ancient times. For the ancients did not prove that the subjective element of thought and this objective content are really in their diversity the passing into one another, and that this identity is their truth; this was only found in Plato in an abstract form and as a first commencement. The unity of thought and conception is the difficult matter; thus if thought, as such, is the principle, it is abstract. The logic of the Stoics hence remained formal merely, and the attainment of a content could not be demonstrated. Thought and Being are themselves such abstractions, and we may move to and fro between them for long without arriving at any determination. Thus this unity of universal and particular cannot be the criterion. With the Stoics the conception as comprehended appears to be immediately asserted; it is a concrete, but it is not shown that this is the truth of these distinct elements. Against this immediately accepted concrete, the assertion of the difference of the two is thus quite consistent.

“In the second place,” says Arcesilaus, “there is no apprehended conception that is not also false, as has been confirmed many times and oft,” just as the Stoics themselves say that the apprehended conception could be both true and false. Determinate content has its opposite in a determinate which must likewise as an object of thought be true; and this destroys itself. In this consists the blind wandering about in thoughts and reasons such as these, which are not grasped as Idea, as the unity of opposites, but in one of the opposites asserts one thing, and then, with as good reason, the opposite. The truth of the world is, on the contrary, quite different, the universal law of reason which is as such for thought. Reasons are relatively ultimate for a content, but not absolutely ultimate; they can only be regarded as good reasons, as probability, as the Academics express it. This is a great truth which Arcesilaus had attained. But because no unity can thus come forth, he then draws the conclusion that the wise man must withhold his assent, that is, not that he should not think, but that he must not merely for that reason regard as true that which is thought. “For since nothing is comprehensible, he will, if he assents, assent to an incomprehensible; now because such an assent is opinion, the wise man will only be wise in opinion.”[172] We still likewise hear this said: Man thinks, but does not thereby arrive at the truth; it remains beyond. Cicero (Acad. Quæst. IV. 24) thus expresses this: “Neither the false nor the true can be known, if the true were simply to be such as is the false.”

_b._ In relation to what is practical, Arcesilaus says: “But since the conduct of life without a criterion of the true or the false is impossible, and the end of life, or happiness, can only be determined through such grounds, the wise man, not withholding his approbation regarding everything, will, as regards what has to be done and left undone, direct his actions in accordance with the probable (εὔλογον),” as the subjectively convincing conception. What is right in this is that the good ground does not extend as far as truth. “Happiness is brought about by discretion (φρόνησις), and rational conduct operates in fitting and right action (κατορθώμασι); that is rightly done which is permitted by a well-grounded justification,” so that it appears to be true. “Thus, he who regards what is well-founded will do rightly and be happy,” but for this culture and intelligent thought are requisite. Arcesilaus thus remains at the indeterminate, at subjectivity of conviction, and a probability justified by good grounds. Thus we see that in regard to what is positive, Arcesilaus does not really get any further than the Stoics, nor say anything different from what they do; only the form is different, because, what the Stoics call true, Arcesilaus calls well-founded or probable. But, on the whole, he possessed a higher kind of knowledge than the Stoics, because what is thus founded cannot be held to have the significance of an implicit existence, but only a relative truth in consciousness.

2. CARNEADES.

Carneades was equally famous; he was one of the followers of Arcesilaus in the Academy, and he also lived in Athens, though considerably later. He was born in Cyrene in Ol. 141, 3 (217 B.C.), and died in Ol. 162, 4 (132 B.C.), thus being eighty-five years old; though, according to others he was as much as ninety.[173] During the already mentioned (pp. 241, 242) embassy of the three philosophers to Rome, it was chiefly Carneades’ quickness, eloquence, and power of conviction, as also his great fame, which aroused remark, attracted men together, and gained great approbation in Rome. For he here held, after the manner of the Academics, two discourses on justice; the one for and the other against justice. That on which both generally speaking rested, can easily be discovered. In the justification of justice he took the universal as principle; but in showing its nullity, he laid weight on the principle of individuality, of self-interest. To the young Romans who knew little of the opposition in the Notion, this was something new; they had no idea of such methods of applying thought, were much attracted by them, and were soon won over to them. But the older Romans, and particularly the elder Cato, the Censor, who was then still living, saw this very unwillingly, and declaimed much against it, because the youths were thereby turned away from the strictness of ideas and virtues which prevailed in Rome. As the evil gained ground, Caius Acilius made a proposition in the Senate to banish all philosophers from the city, amongst whom, naturally, without their names being mentioned, those three ambassadors were included. The elder Cato, however, moved the Senate to conclude the business with the ambassadors as quickly as possible, so that they might again set forth, and return to their schools, and might henceforth instruct only the sons of the Greeks. The Roman youths might then as formerly give ear to their laws and magistrates, and learn wisdom from intercourse with the senators.[174] But this taint can no more be avoided than could in Paradise the desire for knowledge. The knowledge which is a necessary moment in the culture of a people, thus makes its appearance as the Fall from innocence, and as corruption. An epoch such as this, in which thought appears to veer about, is then regarded as an evil as far as the security of the ancient constitution is concerned. But this evil of thought cannot be prevented by laws, &c.; it can and must be the healer of itself through itself alone, if thought through thought itself is truly brought to pass.

a. The philosophy of Carneades has been given to us in most detail by Sextus Empiricus; and all else of Carneades that we possess is likewise directed against the dogmatism of the Stoic and Epicurean philosophy. The fact that the nature of consciousness is what is most particularly considered makes his propositions interesting. While in Arcesilaus we still found a good reason or argument maintained, the principle which Carneades supported is expressed as that “in the first place there is absolutely no criterion of the truth, neither feeling, conception, nor thought, nor any other such thing; for all this put together deceives us.” This general empirical proposition is still in vogue. In developing the matter further, Carneades proves what he says from reasons, and we have the nature of consciousness more definitely expressed in the following: “In the second place he shows that even if such a criterion existed, it could not be without an affection (πάθος) of consciousness, which proceeds from perception.”[175] For this, speaking generally, is his principal reflection, that every criterion must be constituted so that it has two elements, one being the objective, existent, immediately determined, while the other element is an affection, an activity, an attribute of consciousness, and belongs to the sensitive, conceiving or thinking subject—but as such it could not be the criterion. For this activity of consciousness consists in the fact that it changes the objective, and thus does not allow the objective as it is to come to us immediately. Hence the same attitude of separation is pre-supposed as formerly, viz. that the understanding is to be regarded as an ultimate and clearly absolute relationship.

α. As against the Epicureans, Carneades maintains this: “Because the living is distinguished from the dead through the activity of sensation, by this means it will comprehend itself and what is external. But this sensation which,” as Epicurus puts it (_supra_, p. 281), “remains unmoved and is impassive and unchangeable, is neither sensation nor does it comprehend anything. For not until they have been changed and determined by the invasion of the actual does sensation show forth things.”[176] The sensation of Epicurus is an existent, but there is in it no principle of judgment, because each sensation is independent. But sensation must be analyzed in accordance with the two points of view there present, for as the soul is therein, determined, so likewise is that which determines determined by the energy of the conscious subject. Because I, as a living being, have sensation, a change in my consciousness takes place, which means that I am determined from without and from within. Consequently the criterion cannot be a simple determinateness, for it is really an implicit relationship in which two moments, sensation and thought, must be distinguished.

β. Since to Carneades sensation is merely what comes first, he then says: “The criterion is thus to be sought for in the affection of the soul by actuality.” For it is only in the mean between the energy of the soul and that of outward things that the criterion can fall. A determinate content of sensation such as this, which is at the same time again determined through consciousness, this passivity and activity of consciousness, this third something, Carneades called the conception which constituted to the Stoics the content of thought. Respecting this criterion, he says: “This being determined must, however, be an indication both of itself and of the apparent, or of the thing through which it is affected; this affection is none other than the conception. Hence in life the conception is something which presents both itself and the other. If we see something, the sight has an affection, and it no longer is just as it was before seeing. Through an alteration such as this there arise in us two things: first change itself, _i.e._ the ordinary conception” (the subjective side) “and then that which change produced, what is seen” (the objective). “Now just as the light shows itself and everything in it, the conception reigns over knowledge in the animal, and it must, like the light, make itself evident, and reveal the actual through which consciousness is affected.” This is quite the correct standpoint for consciousness, and it is in itself comprehensible, but it is only for the phenomenal mind that the other in the determinateness of consciousness is present. We now expect a development of this opposition; but Carneades passes into the region of empiricism without giving this further development. “Since the conception,” he continues, “does not always point to the truth, but often lies, and resembles bad messengers in that it misrepresents what it proceeds from, it follows that not every conception can give a criterion of the truth, but only that which is true, if any are so. But because none is so constituted that it might not also be false, conceptions are likewise a common criterion of the true as of the false, or they form no criterion.” Carneades also appealed to the fact of a conception proceeding even from something not existing, or—if the Stoics asserted that what in the objective is thinkingly apprehended is an existent—to the fact that the false may also be apprehended.[177] In a popular way that is stated thus: There are also conceptions of untruth. Although I am convinced, it is still my conception merely, even if men think they have said something by saying that they have this conviction. They likewise say that insight or objective knowledge is still only the conviction of difference, but really the content is in its nature universal.

γ. Finally, “because no conception is a criterion, neither can thought be taken as such, for this depends on conception”—and must hence be just as uncertain as it is. “For to thought, that respecting which it judges must be conception; but conception cannot exist without unthinking sensation”—this may, however, be either true or false, “so that there is no criterion.”[178] This constitutes the principle in the Academic philosophy—that on the one hand the conception is in itself this distinction of thought and existence, and that there is likewise a unity of both, which, however, is no absolutely existing unity. Philosophic culture of those times remained at this standpoint, and in modern times Reinhold also arrived at the same result.

b. Now what Carneades gave expression to of an affirmative nature respecting the criterion, is found in the statement that undoubtedly criteria are to be maintained for the conduct of life and for the acquisition of happiness, but not for the speculative consideration of what is in and for itself. Thus Carneades passes more into what is psychological, and into finite forms of the understanding consciousness; this is consequently no criterion respecting truth, but respecting the subjective habits and customs of the individual, and hence it also is of subjective truth alone, although it still remains a concrete end. “The conception is a conception of something; of that from which it comes as of the externally perceived object, and of the subject in which it is, _e.g._ of man. In this way it has two relationships—on the one hand to the object, and, on the other, to that which forms the conception. According to the former relationship it is either true or false; true if it harmonizes with what is conceived of, false if this is not so.” But this point of view cannot here in any way come under consideration, for the judgment respecting this harmony is most certainly not in a position to separate the matter itself from the matter as conceived. “According to the relationship to that which conceives, the one is conceived (φαινομένε) to be true, but the other is not conceived to be true.” Merely this relationship to the conceiver, however, comes under the consideration of the Academicians. “That conceived of as true is called by the Academician appearance (ἔμφασις) and conviction, and convincing conception; but what is not conceived as true is called incongruity (ἀπέμφασις) and non-conviction and non-convincing conception. For neither that which is presented to us through itself as untrue, nor what is true but is not presented to us, convinces us.”[179]

Carneades thus determines the leading principle very much as does Arcesilaus, for he recognizes it merely in the form of a “convincing conception;” but as convincing it is “likewise a firm and a developed conception,” if it is to be a criterion of life. These distinctions, on the whole, pertain to a correct analysis, and likewise approximately appear in formal logic; they are very much the same stages as are found, according to Wolff, in the clear, distinct, and adequate conception. “We have now shortly to show what is the distinction between these three steps.”[180]

α. “A convincing conception (πιθανή) is that which appears to be true and which is sufficiently obvious; it has a certain breadth as well, and may be applied in many ways and in a great variety of cases; ever verifying itself more through repetitions,” as in the case of Epicurus, “it makes itself ever more convincing and trustworthy.” No further account of its content is given, but what is so frequently produced is, as empirical universality, made the first criterion.[181] But this is only an individual and, speaking generally, an immediate and quite simple conception.

β. “Because, however, a conception is never for itself alone, but one depends on another as in a chain, the second criterion is added, viz. that it should be both convincing and secure (ἀπερίσπαστος),” _i.e._ connected and determined on all sides, so that it cannot be changed, nor drawn this way and that and made variable by circumstances; and other conceptions do not contradict it, because it is known in this connection with others. This is quite a correct determination, which everywhere appears in the universal. Nothing is seen or said alone, for a number of circumstances stand in connection with it. “For example, in the conception of a man much is contained, both as to what concerns himself and what surrounds him: as to the former, there is colour, size, form, movement, dress, &c.; and in reference to the latter, air, light, friends, and the like. If none of such circumstances make us uncertain or cause us to think the others false, but when all uniformly agree, the conception is the more convincing.”[182] Thus when a conception is in harmony with the manifold circumstances in which it stands, it is secure. A cord may be thought to be a snake, but all the circumstances of the same have not been considered. “Thus, as in judging of an illness all the symptoms must be brought under our consideration, so the fixed conception has conviction because all circumstances agree.”[183]

γ. “Even more trustworthy than the fixed conception is the conception as developed (διεξωδευμένη), which brings about perfect conviction,” the third moment. “While in the case of the fixed conception we only investigate whether the circumstances agree with one another, in the developed conception each one of the circumstances existing in harmony is strictly inquired into on its own account. Thus he who judges as well as what is judged and that according to which judgment is given, are subject to investigations. Just as in common life in some unimportant matter one witness satisfies us, in one more important several are required, and in a case which is more material still the individual witnesses are themselves examined through a comparison of their testimonies, so in less important matters a general convincing conception satisfies us, in things of a certain importance one which is established, but in those which pertain to a good and happy life one which is investigated in its parts is required.”[184] We thus see—in contradistinction to those who place truth in what is immediate, and, especially in recent times, in sensuous perception, in an immediate knowledge, whether as inward revelation or outward perception—that this kind of certainty with Carneades rightly takes the lowest place; the conception worked out and developed really is to him the essential one, and yet it appears in a formal manner only. In fact, the truth is only in thinking knowledge, and if Carneades does not exhaust all that can be said of the nature of this knowledge, he still has rightly emphasized an essential moment in it, the opening out and the judging movements of the moments.

In the New Academy we see the subjective side of conviction expressed, or the belief that not the truth as truth, but its manifestation, or really what it is to the conception, is present in consciousness. Thus only subjective certainty is demanded; of the truth nothing more is said, for only what is relative in respect of consciousness is considered. Just as the Academic principle limited itself to the subjective act of the convincing conception, so likewise did the Stoics really place implicit existence in thought, and Epicurus in perception; but they called this the truth. The Academicians, on the contrary, set it up against the truth, and asserted that it is not the existent as such. They had thus a consciousness that the implicit really has the moment of consciousness in it, and that without this it cannot exist; this was also a fundamental principle to the former, but they were not conscious of it. Though, according to this, the implicit has now an essential relation to consciousness, this last is still in contrast with the truth; to conscious knowledge, as to the moment of explicitude, the implicit thus still stands in the background, it still confronts it, but at the same time it includes the explicit as an essential moment, even in antagonism to itself; in other words, consciousness is not yet set forth in and for itself. Now, if this Academic standpoint is driven to its ultimate limit, it amounts to this, that everything is clearly for consciousness alone, and that the form of an existent, and of the knowledge of existence, also quite disappears as form; this, however, is Scepticism. Thus if the Academicians still preferred one conviction, one estimate of truth to another, as that in which the aim of a self-existent truth might be said to dwell, or float before their eyes, there still remains this simple belief in the validity of opinion without distinction, or the fact that everything is in like manner only related to consciousness, and is, in fact, phenomenal alone. Thus the Academy had no longer any fixed subsistence, but hereby really passed into Scepticism, which merely asserted a subjective belief in truth, so that all objective truth has really been denied.

D. SCEPTICISM.

Scepticism completed the theory of the subjectivity of all knowledge by the fact that in knowledge it universally substituted for Being the expression _appearance_. Now this Scepticism undoubtedly appears to be something most impressive, to which great respect is due from man. In all times as now, it has been held to be the most formidable, and, indeed, the invincible opponent of Philosophy, because it signifies the art of dissolving all that is determinate, and showing it in its nullity. Thus it might almost appear as though it were held to be in itself invincible, and as though the only difference in convictions were whether the individual decided for it or for a positive, dogmatic philosophy. Its result undoubtedly is the disintegration of the truth, and, consequently, of all content, and thus perfect negation. The invincibility of Scepticism must undoubtedly be granted, only, however, in a subjective sense as regards the individual, who may keep to the point of view of taking no notice of Philosophy, and only asserting the negative. Scepticism in this way seems to be something to which men give themselves over, and we have the impression that we are not able to get within reach of anyone who thus throws himself entirely into Scepticism; another man, however, simply rests content with his philosophy, because he takes no notice of Scepticism, and this is really what he ought to do, for, properly speaking, it cannot be refuted. Certainly if we were merely to escape from it, it would not in reality have been defeated, for on its side it would remain where it was, and in possession of the field. For positive philosophy allows Scepticism to exist beside it; Scepticism, on the other hand, encroaches upon the domain of positive philosophy, for Scepticism has power to overcome the other, while positive philosophy cannot do the same to it. If anyone actually desires to be a Sceptic, he cannot be convinced, or be brought to a positive philosophy,[185] any more than he who is paralyzed in all his limbs can be made to stand. Scepticism is, in fact, such paralysis—an incapacity for truth which can only reach certainty of self, and not of the universal, remaining merely in the negative, and in individual self-consciousness. To keep oneself in individuality depends on the will of the individual; no one can prevent a man from doing this, because no one can possibly drive another out of nothing. But thinking Scepticism is quite different; it is the demonstration that all that is determinate and finite is unstable. As to this, positive philosophy may have the consciousness that it has the negation to Scepticism in itself; thus it does not oppose it, nor is it outside of it, for Scepticism is a moment in it. But this is true in such a way that this philosophy comprehends in itself the negative in its truth, as it is not present in Scepticism.

The relation of Scepticism to Philosophy is further this, that the former is the dialectic of all that is determinate. The finitude of all conceptions of truth can be shown, for they contain in themselves a negation, and consequently a contradiction. The ordinary universal and infinite is not exalted over this, for the universal which confronts the particular, the indeterminate which opposes the determinate, the infinite which confronts the finite, each form only the one side, and, as such, are only a determinate. Scepticism is similarly directed against the thought of the ordinary understanding which makes determinate differences appear to be ultimate and existent. But the logical Notion is itself this dialectic of Scepticism, for this negativity which is characteristic of Scepticism likewise belongs to the true knowledge of the Idea. The only difference is that the sceptics remain at the result as negative, saying, “This and this has an internal contradiction, it thus disintegrates itself, and consequently does not exist.” But this result as merely negative is itself again a one-sided determinateness opposed to the positive; _i.e._ Scepticism only holds its place as abstract understanding. It makes the mistake of thinking that this negation is likewise a determinate affirmative content in itself; for it is, as the negation of negation, the self-relating negativity or infinite affirmation. This, put quite abstractly, is the relation of Philosophy to Scepticism. The Idea, as abstract Idea, is the quiescent and inert; it only is in truth in as far as it grasps itself as living. This occurs because it is implicitly dialectic, in order to abrogate that inert quiescence, and to change itself. But if the philosophic Idea is thus implicitly dialectic, it is not so in a contingent manner. Scepticism, on the contrary, exercises its dialectic contingently, for just as the material comes up before it, it shows in the same that implicitly it is negative.

The older Scepticism must further be distinguished from the modern, and it is only with the former that we have to do, for it alone is of a true, profound nature; the modern more resembles Epicureanism. Thus Schulze of Göttingen has in recent times boasted of his Scepticism; he wrote an “Ænesidemus” in order thus to compare himself with that sceptic; and in other works, too, he put forward Scepticism in opposition to Leibnitz and to Kant. Nevertheless, he ignores entirely the true position of Scepticism as it has just been described, and instead of representing the true distinction which exists between his Scepticism and the ancient, Schulze recognizes nothing but Dogmatism and Scepticism, and not the third philosophy at all. Schulze and others make it fundamental that we must consider sensuous Being, what is given to us by sensuous consciousness, to be true; all else must be doubted. What we think is ultimate, the facts of consciousness. The older sceptics, indeed, allowed that men must direct their actions in accordance with this last, but to assert it to be the truth did not occur to them. Modern Scepticism is only directed against thought, against the Notion and the Idea, and thus against what is in a higher sense philosophic; it consequently leaves the reality of things quite unquestioned, and merely asserts that from it nothing can be argued as regards thought. But that is not even a peasants’ philosophy, for they know that all earthly things are transient, and that thus their Being is as good as their non-being. Modern Scepticism is the subjectivity and vanity of consciousness, which is undoubtedly invincible, not, however, to science and truth, but merely to itself, this subjectivity. For it goes no further than saying, “This is held by me to be true, my feeling, my heart is ultimate to me.” But here certainty is alone in question, and not truth; and, indeed, this nowadays is no longer called Scepticism. But the conviction of this individual subject expresses nothing at all, however high the matter which we talk of is supposed to be. Thus because on the one hand it is said that the truth is merely the conviction of another, and on the other hand personal conviction, which is also a ‘merely,’ is set on high, we must leave this subject alone, first on account of its high pretensions, and then on account of its lowliness. The result of the older Scepticism is indeed the subjectivity of knowledge only, but this is founded on an elaborately thought out annihilation of everything which is held to be true and existent, so that everything is made transient.

According to this, the function of Scepticism is wrongly termed the inculcation of proneness to doubt; nor can we translate σκέψις by Doubt, if Scepticism was also called by Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. 3, § 7) ephectic (ἐφεκτική) because one of its chief points was that judgment must be suspended. Doubt, however, is only uncertainty, irresolution, indecision, the thought which is opposed to something held to be valid. Doubt proceeds from the fact of there being two; it is a passing to and fro between two or more points of view, so that we neither rest at the one nor the other—and yet we ought to remain at one point or another. Thus doubt in man is quite likely to involve a rending asunder of mind and spirit; it gives unrest and brings unhappiness with it; doubts, for instance, arise respecting the immortality of the soul and the existence of God. Forty years ago,[186] much was written about this; in poetry, too, we found the situation of the doubter was a subject of the greatest interest, the unhappiness of doubt being depicted to us as in the “Messias.” This supposes a deep interest in a content, and the desire of the mind that this content should either be established in it or not, because it desires to find its rest either in the one or the other. Such doubt is said to betoken a keen and sharp-witted thinker, but it is only vanity and simple verbiage, or a feebleness that can never arrive at anything. This Scepticism has nowadays entered into our life, and it thus makes itself of account as this universal negativity. But the older Scepticism does not doubt, being certain of untruth, and indifferent to the one as to the other; it does not only flit to and fro with thoughts that leave the possibility that something may still be true, but it proves with certainty the untruth of all. Or its doubt to it is certainty which has not the intention of attaining to truth, nor does it leave this matter undecided, for it is completely at a point, and perfectly decided, although this decision is not truth to it. This certainty of itself thus has as result the rest and security of the mind in itself, which is not touched with any grief, and of which doubt is the direct opposite. This is the standpoint of the imperturbability of Scepticism.

Now what has to be considered even before treating of Scepticism itself, is its external history. As regards the origin of Scepticism the Sceptics say that it is very old, that is, if we take it in the quite indeterminate and universal sense, in so far as to say “Things are, but their Being is not true, for it likewise involves their non-being; or they are changeable. For example, this day is to-day, but to-morrow is also to-day, &c.; it is day now but night is also now, &c.” Thus of what in this way is allowed to be a determinate, the opposite is also expressed. Now if it be said that all things are transient, things may in the first place be changed; however this is not only possible, but the fact that all things are transient really means when taken in its universality:—“Nothing exists in itself, for its reality is the abrogation of self, because things in themselves, in accordance with their necessity, are transient. Only now are they thus; at another time they are different, and this time, the now, is itself no more while I am speaking of it; for time is not itself fixed, and it makes nothing fixed.” This uncertainty in what is sensuous represents a long-standing belief amongst the unphilosophic public as well as amongst philosophers up to this time; and this negativity in all determinations likewise constitutes the characteristic feature of Scepticism. The Sceptics have also presented this position in an historic way, and they show that even Homer was a sceptic, because he speaks of the same things in opposite ways. They also count in this category Bias, with his maxim “Pledge thyself never.” For this has the general sense “Do not consider anything to be anything, do not attach yourself to any object to which you devote yourself, do not believe in the security of any relationship, &c.” Likewise the negative aspect of the philosophy of Zeno and Xenophanes is said to be sceptical, and further, Heraclitus, too, with his principle that everything flows, that everything is consequently contradictory and transient; finally Plato and the Academy are sceptical, only here Scepticism is not yet quite clearly expressed.[187] All this may be taken as being in part the sceptical uncertainty of everything; but that is not its real meaning. It is not this conscious and universal negativity; as conscious, it must prove, as universal, it must extend the untruth of the objective to everything; thus it is not a negativity which says definitely that everything is not implicit but is only for self-consciousness, and everything merely goes back into the certainty of itself. As philosophic consciousness Scepticism is consequently of later date. By Scepticism we must understand a specially constituted consciousness for which in some measure not only sensuous Being, but also Being for thought does not hold true, and which can then with consciousness account for the nullity of that which is asserted to be reality; and finally, in a general way, it not only annuls this and that sensuous fact or thought, but is adapted for the recognition in everything of its untruth.

The history of Scepticism, properly so called, is usually commenced with Pyrrho as being its founder; and from him the names Pyrrhonism and Pyrrhonic are derived. Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 3, § 7) says of him “that he went into Scepticism more fully (σωματικώτερον) and clearly than did his predecessors.” He is earlier than some of the philosophers already considered; but because Scepticism is to be taken as a whole, Pyrrho’s Scepticism, even if it is merely aimed against the immediate truth both of the senses and of morality, must be taken along with the later Scepticism, which directs its attention rather against the truth as thought, as will be farther shown on a closer consideration; for this last was the first, properly speaking, to make a sensation. As to the events of Pyrrho’s life, they appear to be as much a matter of doubt as his doctrine; for they are without any connection, and little is known for certain concerning them. Pyrrho lived in the time of Aristotle and was born at Elis. I shall not give the names of his instructors; Anaxarchus, a disciple of Democritus, is specially mentioned amongst them. We cannot discover where he really lived, for the most part at least. As a proof of how very much he was esteemed during his life, it is said that his native town chose him as head priest, and the town of Athens gave him the right of citizenship. It is finally stated that he accompanied Alexander the Great in his journey to Asia; and that there he had considerable dealings with magicians and Brahmins. We are told that Alexander had him put to death because he desired the death of a Persian satrap; and this fate befel him in his ninetieth year. If all this is to be accepted, since Alexander spent between twelve and fourteen years in Asia, Pyrrho must at the earliest have set out on his travels in his seventy-eighth year. Pyrrho does not appear to have come forward as a public teacher, but merely to have left behind him individual friends who had been educated by him. Anecdotes are told, not so much about the circumstances of his life as about the sceptical manner in which he conducted himself, and in them his behaviour is made to look ridiculous; in this the universal of Scepticism is set against a particular case, so that what is absurd shoots up as of itself into relationships which appear to be consistent. For because he asserted that the reality of sensuous things has no truth, it is, for instance, said that were he walking he would go out of the way of no object, no waggon or horse that came towards him; or he would go straight up against a wall, completely disbelieving in the reality of sensuous sensations and such like. They also said that it was only the friends surrounding him who drew him away from such dangers and saved him.[188] But such anecdotes are evidently extravagant, because, for one thing, it is not conceivable that he could have followed Alexander to Asia at ninety years of age. It is also very clear that such stories are simply invented with the object of ridiculing the sceptical philosophy, by following out its principle to such extreme consequences. To the Sceptics sensuous existence undoubtedly holds good as phenomenal in so far as the regulation of ordinary conduct is concerned (_infra_, p. 343), but not in as far as it is held to be the truth; for even the followers of the New Academy said that men must not only direct their lives in accordance with rules of prudence, but also in accordance with the laws of sensuous manifestation (_supra_, pp. 319, 324).

After Pyrrho, Timon of Phliasis, the sillographist, became specially famous.[189] Of his Silli, _i.e._ biting remarks respecting all philosophies, many are quoted by the ancients; they are certainly bitter and disdainful enough, but many of them are not very witty or worthy of being preserved. Dr. Paul collected them in an essay, but in it much is given that is meaningless. Goethe and Schiller certainly show more capacity in works of a similar nature. The Pyrrhonians hereupon disappear,—they seem in general only to have shown themselves in a more or less isolated way; for a long time after this we read in history of the Peripatetics, Stoics and Epicureans being confronted only by the Academicians and perhaps some of the older Sceptics who are mentioned likewise.

Ænesidemus was the first to reawaken Scepticism; he was of Cnossus in Crete, and lived in Cicero’s time in Alexandria,[190] which soon began to compete with Athens for the honour of being the seat of Philosophy and the sciences. Subsequently, when the Academy lost itself in Scepticism, we see the latter, from which the former is all the same only separated by a thin partition, taking up a position of predominance as representing the purely negative point of view. But a scepticism such as that of Pyrrho, which does not as yet show much culture or tendency towards thought, but which is directed only against what is sensuous, could have no interest in the culture of Philosophy as it is found in Stoicism, Epicureanism, Platonism, &c. Thus it is requisite, in order that Scepticism should appear with the dignity pertaining to Philosophy, that it should itself be developed on its philosophic side; and this was first done by Ænesidemus.

However, one of the most celebrated of the Sceptics, whose works we still in great measure possess, and who for us is by far the most important writer upon Scepticism, because he gives us detailed accounts of this philosophy, is Sextus Empiricus, of whose life unfortunately as good as nothing is known. He was a physician, and that he was an empirical physician, who did not act according to theory but in accordance with what appears, his name tells us. He lived and taught about the middle of the second century after Christ.[191] His works are divided into two parts: first, his _Pyrrhoniæ Hypotyposes_, in three books, which give us somewhat of a general presentation of Scepticism, and secondly his books _adversus Mathematicos_, _i.e._ against scientific knowledge generally, and more especially against the geometricians, arithmeticians, grammarians, musicians, logicians, physicists, and moral philosophers. There were in all eleven books, six of which are actually directed against mathematicians, but the other five against the philosophers.

The distinction between the Academy and Scepticism was a matter as to which the Sceptics exercised themselves much. The New Academy really bordered so closely upon Scepticism, that the Sceptics had enough to do to dissociate themselves from it, and in the Sceptic school a long and important battle raged as to whether Plato, and subsequently the New Academy, belonged to Scepticism or not;[192] in the course of this we also see that Sextus did not really know what to make of Plato. The Sceptics are, on the whole, very careful to distinguish their own from other systems. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 1, §§ 1-4) distinguishes three philosophies: “He who seeks an object must either find it or deny that it can be found, or persevere in the search. Now the same holds good with philosophic investigations; some assert that they have found the truth; others deny that it can be grasped; a third set are still engaged in search. The first, like Aristotle, Epicurus, the Stoics, and others, are the so-called Dogmatists; those who assert incomprehensibility are the Academicians; the Sceptics still continue to seek. Hence there are three philosophies: the Dogmatic, the Academic and the Sceptical.” For this reason, the Sceptics called themselves the seekers (ζητητικοί), and their philosophy the seeking (ζητητική).[193] However, the distinction between Scepticism and the New Academy rests in the form of expression only, and is thus not a great one: indeed it is founded only on the mania of the Sceptics to cut off and to shun any sort of assertive statement. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 7, § 13; c 10, §§ 19-20) says: “The Sceptic does not dogmatize, but only assents to the affections into which he is impelled, not of his own will, by the conceptions; thus, if for example, he is warm or cold, he will certainly not say, I seem not to be cold or warm. But if it be asked if the subject is as it appears, we allow appearance (φαίνεσθαι); yet we do not investigate the thing that appears, but only the predicate predicate (ὃ λέγεται)[194] expressing its appearance. Thus, whether anything is sweet or not, we consider only as regards the Notion Notion (ὄσον ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ); but that is not what appears, but what is said of what appears. But if we institute direct investigations respecting what appears, we do so not in order to destroy what appears, but in order to condemn the rashness (προπέτειαν) of the dogmatists.” Thus the Sceptics endeavour to bring about the result that in what they say no expression of a Being can be demonstrated, so that, for example, in a proposition, they always set appearance in the place of existence. According to Sextus they say (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 7, § 14; c. 28, § 206): “The Sceptic makes use of his propositions—for example, determine nothing (οὐδὲν ὁρίζειν), not the more (οὐδὲν μᾶλλον), nothing is true, &c.—not as if they really did exist. For he believes, for instance, that the proposition, everything is false, asserts that itself as well as the others is false, and consequently limits it (συμπεριγράφει). Thus we must similarly in all sceptical propositions recollect that we do not at all assert their truth; for we say that they may destroy themselves, since that limits them of which they are predicated.” Now, the New Academy of Carneades does not express anything as being the true and existent, or as anything to which thought could agree; the Sceptics thus come very near to the Academy. Pure Scepticism merely makes this objection to the Academy, that it is still impure. Sextus says (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 33, §§ 226-233): “But clearly they differ from us in the judgment of good and evil. For they assert that something is good or evil,” that is to say, the former is the withholding of assent, and the latter the granting of it (_supra_, p. 315), “whereby they are convinced of its being probable that what of good is attributed to the predicate, is more likely to be good than the opposite.” Thus they have not elevated themselves to the purity of Scepticism, because they speak of _existence_, and not of _appearance_. But this is nothing more than a mere form, for the content immediately destroys that which in form appears to be an assertion. If we say: “Something is a good, thought assents to it,” and then ask, “But what is the good to which thought assents?” the content here is that it should not assent. Hence the form is, “It is a good,” but the content is that nothing should be held to be good or true. Thus the Sceptics also assert this: To the Sceptics “all conceptions are alike in trustworthiness or untrustworthiness in relation to the ground,” to truth. “But the Academicians say that some are probable, and others improbable, and amongst the probable, some again are to be preferred to the others.” Preference is thus one of the forms which the Sceptics also object to (_infra_, p. 345); for such expressions strike them as still too positive.

Now, speaking generally, the essential nature of Scepticism consists in its considering that to self-consciousness on its own account, there proceeds from the disappearance of all that is objective, all that is held to be true, existent or universal, all that is definite, all that is affirmative, through the withholding of assent, the immovability and security of mind, this imperturbability in itself. Hence the same result is obtained, that we have already seen in systems of philosophy immediately preceding this. Thus as soon as anything is held to be truth to self-consciousness, we find the result that to self-consciousness this truth is the universal reality, passing beyond itself, and in regard to this, self-consciousness esteems itself as nothing. But this external and determinate truth, as finite, is not implicitly existent, so that its necessity is to vacillate and give way. Then when this security disappears, self-consciousness itself loses its equilibrium, and becomes driven hither and thither in unrest, fear and anguish; for its stability and rest is the permanence of its existence and truth. But sceptical self-consciousness is just this subjective liberation from all the truth of objective Being, and from the placing of its existence in anything of the kind; Scepticism thus makes its end the doing away with the unconscious servitude in which the natural self-consciousness is confined, the returning into its simplicity, and, in so far as thought establishes itself in a content, the curing it of having a content such as this established in thought. “The effective principle of Scepticism,” Sextus hence tells us (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 6, § 12, c. 12, §§ 25-30), “is the hope of attaining to security. Men of distinguished excellence, disquieted through the instability of things, and dubious as to which should in preference be given assent to, began the investigation of what is the truth and what false in things, as if they could reach imperturbability through the decision of such matters. But while engaged in this investigation, man attains the knowledge that opposite determinations,” desires, customs, &c., “have equal power,” and thus resolve themselves; “since in this way he cannot decide between them, he really only then attains to imperturbability when he withholds his judgment. For if he holds anything to be good or evil by nature, he never is at rest, whether it be that he does not possess what he holds to be good, or that he thinks himself vexed and assailed by natural evil. But he who is undecided respecting that which is good and beautiful in nature, neither shuns nor seeks anything with zeal; and thus he remains unmoved. What happened to the painter Apelles, befalls the Sceptic. For it is told that when he was painting a horse, and was altogether unsuccessful in rendering the foam, he finally in anger threw the sponge on which he had wiped his brushes, and in which every colour was therefore mixed, against the picture, and thereby formed a true representation of foam.” Thus, the Sceptics find in the mingling of all that exists, and of all thoughts, the simple self-identity of self-consciousness which “follows mind as the shadow does the body,” and is only acquired, and can only be acquired through reason. “Hence we say that the end of the Sceptic is imperturbability in the conceptions and moderation in the affections which he is compelled to have.” This is the indifference which the animals have by nature, and the possession of which through reason distinguishes men from animals. Thus, Pyrrho once showed to his fellow-passengers on board a ship, who were afraid during a storm, a pig, which remained quite indifferent and peacefully ate on, saying to them: in such indifference the wise man must also abide.[195] However the indifference must not be like that of the pig, but must be born of reason. But if to Scepticism existence was only a manifestation or conception, it was yet esteemed by it as that in respect to which the Sceptics directed their conduct, both in what they did, and what they left undone. The above-quoted (p. 336) anecdotes about Pyrrho are thus opposed to what the Sceptics themselves said on the subject: “We undoubtedly direct our conduct in accordance with a reason which, in conformity with sensuous phenomena, teaches us to live conformably to the customs and laws of our country, and in consonance with recognized institutions and personal affections.”[196] But for them this had only the significance of a subjective certainty and conviction, and not the value of an absolute truth.

Thus the universal method of Scepticism was, as Sextus Empiricus puts it (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 4, §§ 8-10; c. 6, § 12): “a power of in some way or other setting what is felt, and what is thought, in opposition, whether it be the sensuous to the sensuous, and what is thought to what is thought, or what is sensuous to what is thought, or what is thought to what is sensuous, _i.e._ showing that any one of these has as much force and weight as its opposite, and is hence equivalent as far as conviction and non-conviction are concerned. From this the suspension of judgment (ἐποχή) results, in conformity with which we select and posit nothing, and thereby complete freedom from all mental emotion is attained. The principle of Scepticism is thus found in the proposition that each reason is confronted by another, which holds equally good. We do not, however, necessarily accept affirmation and negation as opposite grounds, but merely those that conflict with one another.” That which is felt is really existence for sensuous certainty, which simply accepts it as truth; or it is that which is felt in the Epicurean form, which consciously asserts it to be true. What is thought is in the Stoic form a determinate Notion, a content in a simple form of thought; both these classes, immediate consciousness and thinking consciousness, comprehend everything which is in any way to be set in opposition. In as far as Scepticism limits itself to this, it is a moment in Philosophy itself, which last, having an attitude of negativity in relation to both, only recognizes them as true in their abrogation. But Scepticism thinks that it reaches further; it sets up a pretension of venturing against the speculative Idea and conquering it; Philosophy, however, since Scepticism itself is present in it as a moment, rather overcomes it (_supra_, p. 330). As far as what is sensuous and what is thought in their separation are concerned, it certainly may conquer, but the Idea is neither the one nor the other, and it does not touch on the rational at all. The perpetual misunderstanding which those who do not know the nature of the Idea are under concerning Scepticism, is that they think that the truth necessarily falls into the one form or the other, and is thus either a determinate Notion or a determinate Being. Against the Notion as Notion, _i.e._ against the absolute Notion, Scepticism does not in any way proceed; the absolute Notion is rather its weapon of defence, though Scepticism has no consciousness of this. We shall on the one hand see Scepticism use that weapon against the finite, and on the other, how it tries its skill upon the rational.

But though, according to this, Scepticism always expresses itself as if everything were in appearance only, the Sceptics go further than those who support the newer and purely formal idealism. For they deal with content, and demonstrate of all content that it is either experienced by the senses or thought, and consequently that it has something in opposition to it. Thus they show in the same thing the contradiction that exists, so that of everything that is presented the opposite also holds good. This is the objective element in Scepticism in its manifestation, and that through which it is not subjective idealism. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 13, §§ 32, 33) says: “Thus, for instance, the sensuous is set against the sensuous by our being reminded of the fact that the same tower when looked at near is square and when regarded in the distance looks round;” and hence the one assertion is as good as the other. This, indeed, is a very trivial example, but its interest lies in the thought that is present in it. “Or what is thought is set in opposition to what is thought. As to the fact that there is a providence,” which rewards the good and punishes the evil, “men appeal,” as against those who deny it, “to the system of the heavenly bodies; to this it is objected that the good often fare badly and the evil well, from which we demonstrate that there is no providence.” As to the “opposition of what is thought to the sensuous,” Sextus adduces the conclusion of Anaxagoras, who asserts of the snow, that although it appears to be white, regarded in relation to the reasons given by reflection it is black. For it is frozen water, but water has no colour and hence is black; consequently snow must be the same.

We must now consider further the method in which the Sceptics proceed, and it consists in this, that they have brought the universal principle that each definite assertion has to be set over against its ‘other,’ into certain forms, not propositions. Thus, in view of the nature of Scepticism, we cannot ask for any system of propositions, nor will this philosophy really be a system; just as little did it lie in the spirit of Scepticism to form a school, properly speaking, but only an external connection in the wider sense of the word. Sextus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 8, § 16, c. 3, § 7) hence says that Scepticism is no selection (αἵρεσις) of dogmas, it is not a preference for certain propositions, but only that which leads, or rather which directs us (ἀγωγή) to live rightly and think correctly; thus it is in this way rather a method or manner by which only universal modes of that opposition are shown. Now since what sort of thoughts reveal themselves is a matter of contingency, the manner and mode of grasping them is contingent likewise; for in one the contradiction appears thus and in another otherwise. These determinate modes of opposition, whereby the withholding of assent comes to pass, the Sceptics called tropes (τρόποι), which are turned upon everything that is thought and felt in order to show that this is not what it is implicitly, but only in relation to another—that it thus itself appears in another, and allows this other to appear in it, and consequently that, speaking generally, what is, only seems; and this, indeed, follows directly from the matter in itself, and not from another which is assumed as true. If, for example, men say that empiric science has no truth because truth exists only in reason, this is only assuming the opposite of empiricism; likewise the truth of reason proved in itself is not a refutation of empiric science, for this last stands alongside of the former with equal rights as, and within the same.

Now since the sceptical doctrine consists in the art of demonstrating contradictions through these _tropes_, we only require to elucidate these modes. The Sceptics themselves, like Sextus, for example (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, 15) distinguish in these forms the earlier and the later: ten of them belong to the elder Sceptics, that is to say to Pyrrho, and five were afterwards added by the later Sceptics, and Diogenes Laertius indeed tells us (IX. 88) that this was first done by Agrippa. From a specification of these it will be shown that the earlier are directed against the ordinary consciousness generally and belong to a thought of little culture, to a consciousness which has sensuous existence immediately before it. For they proceed against what we call common belief in the immediate truth of things, and refute it in a manner which is immediate likewise, not through the Notion but through the existence which is opposed to it. In their enumeration, too, there is this same absence of the Notion. But the five others appear to be better, have more interest, and are manifestly of later origin; they proceed against reflection, _i.e._ against a consciousness which relates itself to the developed understanding, and thus specially against thought-forms, scientific categories, the thought of the sensuous, and the determination of the same through Notions. Now though the most part of these may appear to us to be quite trivial, we must still be indulgent towards them, for they are historically, and consequently really, directed against the form “it is.” But without doubt it is a very abstract consciousness that makes this abstract form “it is” its object and combats it. However trivial then and commonplace these tropes may always appear to be, even more trivial and commonplace is the reality of the so-called external objects, that is, immediate knowledge, as when, for instance, I say “This is yellow.” Men ought not to talk about philosophy, if in this innocent way they assert the reality of such determinations. But this Scepticism was really far from holding things of immediate certainty to be true; thus it actually stands in contrast to modern Scepticism, in which it is believed that what is in our immediate consciousness, or indeed, all that is sensuous, is a truth (_supra_, pp. 331, 332). As distinguished from this, the older Scepticism, the modes of which we would now consider further, is directed against the reality of things.

1. THE EARLIER TROPES.

In the earlier tropes we see the lack of abstraction appearing as the incapacity to grasp their diversitude under more simple general points of view, although they all, in fact, partly under a simple conception and partly in their difference, do in fact converge into some necessary simple determinations. From all alike, in relation to immediate knowledge, is the insecurity demonstrated of that of which we say “it is.” Sextus Empiricus (Pyrrh. Hyp. I. c. 14, § 38) even remarks, that “all the tropes may be summed up in three: the one is the judging subject; the other that respecting which the judgment is made; the third that which contains both sides”—the relation of subject and object. If thought is developed further, it embraces things in these more general determinations.

a. “The first trope is the diversitude in animal organization, according to which different living beings experience different conceptions and sensations respecting the same object. This the Sceptics conclude from the different nature of their origin, because some are brought into being through copulation and others without copulation” (from a _generatio æquivoca_): “but of the first some are hatched from eggs, and others come immediately living into the world, &c. Thus it is a matter of no doubt that this difference of origin produces opposite constitutions, temperaments, &c. The variety in the parts of the body, and particularly in those which are given to the animal for purposes of distinguishing and feeling, thus produces in them the greatest differences in conceptions. For instance, the jaundiced patient sees as yellow what to others appears white,” and as green, what to the latter seems blue. “Similarly the eyes of animals are differently constructed in different species, and have different colours, being pale, grey or red; consequently what is perceived thereby must be different.”[197]

This difference in the subject undoubtedly establishes a difference in perception, and this last a difference between the conception and the nature of the object of perception. But if we say “That is,” we mean something fixed, maintaining itself under all conditions; whereas in opposition to this the Sceptics show that everything is variable. But if they thereby destroy similarity and identity for the senses, and consequently _this_ universality, another steps in, for universality or existence rests simply in the fact of men knowing that, in the hackneyed example of the jaundiced man, things appear so to him, _i.e._ the necessary law is known whereby a change of sensation arises for him. But certainly it is implied in this that the first sensuous universality is not true universality, because it is one immediate and unknown; and in it as sensuous existence, its non-universality is rightly demonstrated within itself through another universality. As against the statement “This is blue because I see it as such,” which clearly makes sight the ground of its being asserted to be blue, it is quite fair to point to another who has immediate perception of the object and for whom it is not blue.

b. The second trope, the diversitude of mankind in reference to feelings and conditions, amounts very much to the same thing as in the first case. In respect to difference in constitution of body, the Sceptics discover many idiosyncrasies. As regards the proposition “Shade is cool,” for instance, they say that someone felt cold in the sunlight, but warm in shadow; as against the statement “Hemlock is poisonous,” they instance an old woman in Attica who could swallow a large dose of hemlock without harm—thus the predicate poisonous is not objective, because it suits the one and not the other. Because such great bodily differences are present amongst men, and the body is the image of the soul, men must have a diversity of mind likewise and give the most contradictory judgments, so that no one can know whom to believe. To judge by the greater number would be foolish, for all men cannot be inquired of.[198] This trope again relates to the immediate; if, therefore, what has to be done is merely to believe some statement inasmuch as it is made by others, undoubtedly nothing but contradiction takes place. But a belief like this, that is ready to believe anything, is, as a matter of fact, incapable of understanding what is said; it is an immediate acceptance of an immediate proposition. For it did not demand the reason; but the reason is, in the first place, the mediation and the meaning of the words of the immediate proposition. Diversitude in men is really something which now likewise appears in other forms. It is said that men differ in regard to taste, religion, &c.; that religion must be left for each to decide for himself; that each, from a standpoint of his own, must settle how things are to be regarded as far as religion is concerned. The consequence of this is that in regard to religion there is nothing objective or true, everything ends in subjectivity, and the result is indifference to all truth. For then there is no longer a church; each man has a church and a liturgy of his own, each has his own religion. The Sceptics more particularly—as those who in all times spare themselves the trouble of philosophizing, on some sort of pretext, and who try to justify this evasion—persistently preach the diversity of philosophies; Sextus Empiricus does this very expressly, and it may even be brought forward here, although it will appear more definitely as the first of the later tropes. If the principle of the Stoics, as it is in its immediacy, holds good, the opposite principle, that of the Epicureans, has just as much truth, and holds equally good. In this way, when it is said that some particular philosophy asserts and maintains certain propositions, the greatest diversity is undoubtedly to be found. For here we have the talk which we censured earlier (Vol. I. p. 16): “Since the greatest men of all times have thought so differently and have not been able to come to an agreement, it would be presumptuous on our part to believe we had found what they could not attain to,” and with those who speak thus, the timid shrinking from knowledge makes out the inertness of their reason to be a virtue. Now if the diversity cannot be denied, because it is a fact that the philosophies of Thales, Plato, and Aristotle were different, and that this was not merely apparently the case, but that they contradicted one another, this way of wishing in such statements of them to gain a knowledge of the philosophies, shows a want of understanding as regards Philosophy; for such propositions are not Philosophy, nor do they give expression to it. Philosophy is quite the reverse of this immediacy of a proposition, because in that the very knowledge that is essential is not taken into account; hence such men see everything in a philosophy excepting Philosophy itself, and this is overlooked. However different the philosophic systems may be, they are not as different as white and sweet, green and rough; for they agree in the fact that they are philosophies, and this is what is overlooked. But as regards the difference in philosophies, we must likewise remark upon this immediate validity accorded to them, and upon the form, that the essence of Philosophy is expressed in an immediate manner. As regards this ‘is’ the trope undoubtedly does its work, for all tropes proceed against the ‘is,’ but the truth is all the time not this dry ‘is,’ but genuine process. The relative difference in philosophies is, in their mutual attitude towards one another (see the fifth trope), always to be comprehended as a connection, and therefore not as an ‘is.’