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343

The history of spirit is its deed, for spirit is only what it does, and its deed is to make itself — here, precisely as spirit — the object of its own consciousness, to comprehend itself by expounding itself to itself. This comprehension is its being and its principle, and the completion of an act of comprehension is at the same time its self-externalization and its transition. The spirit that, to put it formally, comprehends this comprehension anew — which is to say, the spirit that returns into itself out of its self-externalization — is spirit at a higher stage in relation to itself, compared with how it stood in that earlier act of comprehension.

The question of the perfectibility and education of the human race belongs here. Those who have asserted this perfectibility have had an intimation of something of the nature of spirit — of its nature to have Γνωϑι σεαυτόν as the law of its being, and, in that it comprehends what it is, to be a higher shape than that which merely constituted its being. But for those who reject this thought, spirit has remained an empty word, just as history has remained a superficial play of contingent, so-called merely human endeavours and passions. And even if, in doing so, they express in the terms providence and the plan of providence a belief in a higher governance, these remain unfulfilled representations, since they also expressly declare the plan of providence to be something unknowable and incomprehensible to them.

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2 responses to “343”

  1. Hegel (Encyclopedia 1827) Avatar
    Hegel (Encyclopedia 1827)

    Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences in Outline (1827), § 549:

    § 549. This movement is the liberation of ethical substance from the particularities in which it is actual in the several nations – the deed whereby spirit brings itself to consciousness, and thereby to the revelation and actuality of its essence, which is in and for itself, and becomes, for itself, universal – world spirit. Since it is the development of its self-consciousness in time, its several moments and stages are the national spirits, each of which, as a single and natural spirit in a qualitative determinacy, is thereby destined to fill out only one stage and to accomplish only one task of the whole deed.

    That the presupposition of an end that is in and for itself, and of the determinations that develop out of it according to the concept, is made in regard to history, has been called an a priori consideration of it, and philosophy has been reproached for a priori historiography. That an ultimate end which is in and for itself underlies history, and world history in particular, and that this end has actually been and is being realized in it – the plan of providence – that reason, in general, is in history, must be established philosophically in its own right. Blame can be deserved only for presupposing arbitrary representations or thoughts and then wanting to find and present events and deeds as conforming to them. But nowadays it is chiefly those who profess to want to be pure historians, and who at the same time occasionally declare themselves expressly opposed to philosophizing, partly in general and partly in history, who have made themselves guilty of such an a priori procedure; to them, philosophy is indeed a troublesome neighbor, since it opposes the arbitrary and mere notions. Such a priori historiography has become more prevalent in Germany – and indeed at times from a quarter from which one would least expect it, chiefly from the philological side – than in France and England, where, on the contrary, historiography has increasingly purified itself into a firm, mature, and sensible character. To fabricate such inventions – as of a primal condition and its primal people, which was in possession of the true knowledge of God and of all the sciences, of priestly peoples, and, more specifically, e.g., of a Roman epic that is supposed to have been the source of the reports regarded as historical concerning the earlier history of Rome, and so forth – has taken the place of the pragmatizing inventions of psychological grounds and connections; and it can seem as though, in a wide circle, it is regarded as the requirement of a learned and ingenious historiography drawing on the sources to hatch out such hollow notions and to combine them boldly out of a learned rubbish-heap of remote external circumstances, in defiance of the best-attested history. The demand that history not be considered in view of an end is, on the whole, equivalent to the demand — which seems still more justified — that the historian proceed with impartiality, a demand that is customarily made in particular of the history of philosophy, in which no attachment to any representation or opinion is to show itself, just as a judge is supposed to have no particular interest in favor of either of the two contending parties. In fact, however, it is at the same time assumed of a judge that he would administer his office foolishly and badly if he did not have a knowledge of right and an interest, indeed the exclusive interest, in it, if he did not make it his end and sole end, and if he were to abstain from judging. This requirement of the judge one may call partiality for right, and here one knows very well how to distinguish it from the other kind, subjective partiality. In the impartiality demanded of the historian, that distinction is effaced in the sober, self-satisfied talk about it, and both kinds of interest are rejected, when it is demanded that the historian bring with him no determinate end and viewpoint by which he would sort out, arrange, and judge the events, but rather narrate them exactly in the contingent manner in which he finds them, in their wholly particular determinacy. This much, however, is conceded, that a history must have an object, e.g., Rome, its fortunes, or the decline of the greatness of the Roman empire. It takes little reflection to see that this is the presupposed end which underlies the events themselves, as well as their assessment as to what importance – that is, what nearer or more remote relation – they have to it. A history without such an end and without such assessment would be nothing but feeble-minded prattle, not even a children’s fairy tale, for even children demand in stories an interest, i.e., an end at least given to be divined, and the relation of the events and actions to it. In the existence of a people, the substantial end is that it be a state and preserve itself as such; everything else has significance only in relation to this, and the particularities of individuals are the most remote from that object which belongs to history. If the universal spirit of an age impresses itself upon the character of the few great individuals of a period, and even their particularities are still the more remote and turbid media in which it still plays in weakened colors, then, by contrast, the mass of other particulars is superfluous lumber; the objects worthy of history are only pressed down and obscured by the faithful accumulation of such particulars, which characterize only what is in itself insignificant; the characteristic feature of spirit and its age is contained in the great events. For this reason a correct sense of the matter has led to relegating such depictions of the particular, and the gathering up of its traits, to the novel (such as the famous ones of Walter Scott and the like); it is to be regarded as good taste to combine the portrayal of inessential, particular liveliness with an inessential material, such as the novel takes from private passions and subjective passions.

    But to weave the individual trivialities of the time and of persons into the representation of the universal interests, in the interest of so-called truth, is not only contrary to judgment and taste but contrary to the concept of objective truth, in whose sense only what is substantial, and not the emptiness of external existences and contingencies, is the true for spirit – and it is a matter of complete indifference whether such insignificant things are formally attested historically or, as in the novel, characteristically invented and ascribed to this or that name and circumstance.

    The demand for impartiality made, however, of the history of philosophy, as also of religion, partly in general, partly of church history, tends more specifically to contain the express exclusion of the presupposition of an objective end. Just as previously the state was named as the matter to which judgment would have to relate the events in political history, so here truth would have to be the object to which the individual deeds and events of spirit are to be related. But rather the opposite presupposition is made, that those histories have underlying them only subjective ends, i.e., only opinions and representations, and not the object which is in and for itself, truth – and indeed for the simple reason that there is no truth. According to this assumption, the interest in truth appears only as a partiality in the ordinary sense, namely for subjective ends, for opinions and representations, which, as equally devoid of content, all count as indifferent. Historical truth itself thus has the sense only of correctness, of an accurate report of what is external, without judgment except as to this correctness itself, whereby only qualitative and quantitative judgments are admitted, not judgments of necessity and of the concept (cf. the remark to § 172 and § 178). In fact, however, if in political history Rome or the German empire, and so forth, are a real and true object and the end to which the appearances are to be related and according to which they are to be judged, then all the more, in universal history, is the spiritual life of truth and freedom, the universal spirit and the consciousness thereof, a true and real object, content, and end, which all other appearances serve in and for themselves, so that it is only through their relation to it – that is, the judgment in which they are subsumed under it and it inheres in them – that they have their value as well as their very existence.

  2. Hegel (Encyclopedia 1830) Avatar
    Hegel (Encyclopedia 1830)

    Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences in Outline (1830), § 549:

    § 549. This movement is the path of the liberation of spiritual substance, the deed whereby the absolute ultimate end of the world accomplishes itself in it, whereby spirit, which is at first only in itself, brings itself to consciousness and self-consciousness and thereby to the revelation and actuality of its essence which is in and for itself, and becomes also the outwardly universal, the world spirit. Since this development is in time and in existence, and thus is history, its several moments and stages are the national spirits; each, as single and natural, in a qualitative determinacy, is destined to fill out only one stage and to accomplish only one task of the whole deed. That the presupposition of an end which is in and for itself, and of the determinations developing out of it according to the concept, is made with regard to history, has been called an a priori consideration of it, and philosophy has been reproached for a priori historiography; a closer remark is to be made on this, and on historiography in general. That an ultimate end which is in and for itself underlies history, and world history in particular, and that it has actually been and continues to be realized in it – the plan of providence – that reason, in general, is in history, must be established philosophically in its own right, and thus as necessary in and for itself. Blame can be deserved only for presupposing arbitrary representations or thoughts and then wanting to find and present the events and deeds as conforming to them. But nowadays it is chiefly those who profess to want to be pure historians, and who at the same time occasionally declare themselves expressly opposed to philosophizing, partly in general, partly in history, who have made themselves guilty of such an a priori procedure; to them philosophy is a troublesome neighbor, since it opposes the arbitrary and mere notions. Such a priori historiography has, at times, from a quarter from which one would least expect it, chiefly the philological one, become more prevalent in Germany than in France and England, where historiography has purified itself into a firmer and more mature character. To fabricate such inventions – as of a primal condition and its primal people, which is supposed to have found itself in possession of the true knowledge of God and of all the sciences, of priestly peoples, and, more specifically, e.g., of a Roman epic that is supposed to have been the source of the reports regarded as historical concerning the earlier history of Rome, and so forth – has taken the place of the pragmatizing inventions of psychological grounds and connections, and it seems to be regarded, in a wide circle, as the requirement of a learned and ingenious historiography drawing on the sources, to hatch out such hollow notions and to combine them boldly out of a learned rubbish-heap of remote external circumstances, in defiance of the best-attested history. If we set aside this subjective treatment of history, then the properly opposite demand – that history not be considered in view of an objective end – is, on the whole, equivalent to the demand, which seems still more justified, that the historian proceed with impartiality. This demand is customarily made in particular of the history of philosophy, in which no attachment to a representation or opinion is to show itself, just as a judge is supposed to have no particular interest in favor of either of the two contending parties. Of a judge it is at the same time assumed that he would administer his office foolishly and badly if he did not have an interest, indeed the exclusive interest, in right, if he did not make it his end and sole end, and if he were to abstain from judging. This requirement of the judge one may call partiality for right, and here one knows very well how to distinguish it from a subjective partiality. In the impartiality demanded of the historian, however, that distinction is effaced in the sober, self-satisfied talk about it, and both kinds of interest are rejected, when it is demanded that the historian bring with him no determinate end and viewpoint by which he would sort out, arrange, and judge the events, but rather narrate them exactly in the contingent manner in which he finds them, in their relationless and thoughtless particularity. This much, however, is conceded, that a history must have an object, e.g., Rome, its fortunes, or the decline of the greatness of the Roman empire. It takes little reflection to see that this is the presupposed end which underlies the events themselves as well as their assessment, which [gives] them an importance, i.e., a nearer or more remote relation to it. A history without such an end and without such assessment would be nothing but a feeble-minded meandering of representation, not even a children’s fairy tale, for even children demand in stories an interest, i.e., an end at least given to be divined, and the relation of the events and actions to it. In the existence of a people, the substantial end is to be a state and to preserve itself as such; a people without the formation of a state (a nation as such) properly has no history, just as peoples existed before their formation into a state, and others still exist now as wild nations. What happens to a people, and what goes on within it, has its essential significance in relation to the state; the mere particularities of individuals are the most remote from that object which belongs to history. If, in the character of the distinguished individuals of a period, the universal spirit of an age impresses itself in general, and their particularities too are the more remote and murkier media in which it still plays in weakened colors – even often the particulars of some small event, of a word, expressing not a subjective peculiarity but rather an age, a people, a culture, with striking vividness and brevity, the selection of which is the business only of an ingenious historian – then, by contrast, the mass of other particulars is a superfluous mass, through whose faithful accumulation the objects worthy of history are pressed down and obscured; the essential character of spirit and its age is always contained in the great events. A correct sense of the matter has led to relegating such depictions of the particular, and the gathering up of its traits, to the novel (such as those of Walter Scott and the like); it is to be regarded as good taste to combine the portrayal of inessential, particular liveliness with an inessential material, such as the novel takes from private events and subjective passions. But to weave the individual trivialities of the time and of persons into the representation of the universal interests, in the interest of so-called truth, is not only contrary to judgment and taste, but contrary to the concept of objective truth, in whose sense only what is substantial, and not the emptiness of external existences and contingencies, is the true for spirit, and it is a matter of complete indifference whether such insignificant things are formally attested or, as in the novel, characteristically invented and ascribed to this or that name and circumstance. – The interest of biography, to mention it here, seems to stand directly opposed to a universal end; but it itself has the historical world as its background, with which the individual is entangled; even what is subjectively original, humorous, and so forth, plays upon that content and thereby enhances its interest; but what is merely agreeable has a different ground and interest than history does. The demand for impartiality made of the history of philosophy, likewise, one may add, of religion, partly in general, partly of church history, tends more specifically to contain the still more explicit exclusion of the presupposition of an objective end. Just as previously the state was named as the matter to which judgment would have to relate the events in political history, so here truth would have to be the object to which the individual deeds and events of spirit are to be related. But rather the opposite presupposition is made, that those histories are supposed to have as their content only subjective ends, i.e., only opinions and representations, and not the object which is in and for itself, truth – and indeed for the simple reason that there is no truth. According to this assumption, the interest in truth likewise appears only as a partiality in the ordinary sense, namely for opinions and representations, which, being of equal emptiness of content, all count as indifferent. Historical truth itself thus has the sense only of correctness, of an accurate report of what is external, without judgment except as to this correctness itself, whereby only qualitative and quantitative judgments are admitted, not judgments of necessity and of the concept (cf. the remark to § 172 and § 178). In fact, however, if in political history Rome or the German empire, and so forth, are a real and true object and the end to which the appearances are to be related and according to which they are to be judged, then all the more, in universal history, is the universal spirit itself, the consciousness of itself and of its essence, a true and real object, content, and end, which all other appearances serve in and for themselves, so that it is only through their relation to it – that is, the judgment in which they are subsumed under it and it inheres in them – that they have their value, and indeed even their very existence. That, in the course of spirit (and it is spirit that not only hovers over history as over the waters, but weaves within it and alone is what moves it), freedom – that is, the development determined by its concept – is what is determinative, and that only its concept is itself the ultimate end, i.e., truth, since spirit is consciousness – or, in other words, that reason is in history – will, in part, be at least a plausible belief, but in part it is a cognition of philosophy.

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