While it is enclosed in the body the soul is still affected by unceasing change. In this it is like everything else. Nothing in the world can for a single moment preserve the parts which compose it unaltered; the perpetual movement and alteration of its being constitute its life. The sun itself, the greatest fire-body, becomes another sun every day (fr. 32). So, too, the soul, though distinct from the body and a self-existing substance, yet is a substance that never remains like itself. In unceasing alteration of its material substance, its contents are perpetually being transposed. It loses its fire of life in the lower elements; it absorbs fresh fire from the living Fire of the universe that surrounds it. There can be no question of the permanent identity of the soul, of the spiritual personality, with itself. What in the unbroken process of upward and downward straining seems to maintain itself as a single person, is in reality a series of souls and [369] personalities, one taking the place of another and ousting and being ousted in turn.
Thus, even while it is in life, the soul is perpetually dying—but to live again; ever supplementing the departing soul-life or supplying its place with another. So long as it can recruit itself from the surrounding World-Fire, so long the individual lives. Separation from the source of all life, the living and universal fire of the world, would be death for it. The soul may temporarily lose its life-giving contact with the “common world”: this happens in sleep and dreaming which enclose it in their own world (frr. 94, 95), and this is already a partial death to it. Sometimes, too, the soul has a tendency to transform itself to a humidity not always made good by fresh fire; the drunkard has a “moist soul” (fr. 73). Finally, there comes the moment when the soul of man cannot any longer repair the loss of the living fire which is taken from it in the perpetual alteration of its matter. Then it dies; death carries off the last of the series of living fires which in their continuity made up the human soul.[16]
But in Herakleitos’ world there is no such thing as death in the absolute sense—an end followed by no beginning, an unconditional cessation of becoming. “Death” is for him only a point where one condition of things gives way to another; a relative “not-being”, involving death for one but simultaneously bringing birth and life for another (frr. 25, [64], 66, 67). Death, just as much as life, is for him a positive thing. “Fire lives the death of earth, and air lives the death of fire; water lives the death of air, and earth the death of water” (fr. 25). The One that is in all things is at once dead and alive (fr. 78), immortal and mortal (fr. 67); a perpetual “death and becoming” agitates it. So, too, the “death” of man must be the exit from one positive state of things, and the entry into another, also positive, condition. Death occurs for man when the “soul” is no longer within him. Only the body is then left; alone and by itself it is no better than dung (fr. 85). But the soul—what becomes of that? It must have altered; it was fire, but now it has descended on the “Way downwards” and become water—to become earth after that. So it must happen to all fire. In death the fire in man “goes out” (fr. 77). “It is death for the souls to become water” says Herakleitos clearly enough (fr. 68).[17] The soul must tread this path at last, and treads it willingly; change is for the soul its delight and refreshment (fr. 83). The soul has then changed itself into the elements of the body, has lost itself in the body. [370]
But it cannot rest permanently in this transformation. “For the souls it is death to become water; for the water it is death to become earth. And yet from earth comes water; and from water, soul” (fr. 68). Thus, in the restless up and down of becoming, in the “Way upwards” the soul reconstitutes itself out of the lower elements. But not that soul which had formerly animated the particular individual and of whose complete self-identity in the midst of the influx of the Fire-spirit there could be no question even during the life of the body. The inquiry after an individual immortality or even a continued existence of the separate soul could hardly have had any meaning at all for Herakleitos. Nor can he have admitted it under the form of the “transmigration of the soul”.[18] It is quite certain that Herakleitos can never have distinctly asserted the changeless persistence of the individual human soul in the midst of the unbroken stream of becoming in which all fixity is nothing but an illusion of the senses. But it is also incredible that, in despite of his own fundamental principles, he even admitted the possibility of this popular view with an indulgence quite foreign to his nature.[19] What could have tempted him to do so? We are told[20] that it was from the mysteries that he adopted this opinion which was one of their most important doctrines. Herakleitos, however, only casts an occasional glance at the mysteries and what might be called their “doctrine” (just as he glanced at other prominent manifestations of the excited religious life of his time[21]); and he does so in order to harmonize their teaching with his own—a result which he achieves rather by imposing an interpretation than by patiently eliciting one. He demonstrates that the mysteries might be harmonized with his own doctrine,[22] which seemed to him able to explain all the phenomena of the world; that contrariwise he ever sought to set his own teaching in harmony with that of the mysteries, or that the latter had shown him the way to his thought, or could ever have tempted him to set foot outside his own self-chosen path—of this there is not a scrap of evidence to be had.
The individual in its isolation has, for Herakleitos, neither value nor importance: to persist in this isolation (if it had been possible) would have seemed to him a crime.[23] The Fire is for him indestructible and immortal as a totality, not as divided into individual particles, but only as the one Universal Mind that transforms itself into all things and draws all things back again into itself. The soul of man has a claim to immortality as an emanation of this universal Reason, [371] and shares the immortality which belongs to it. So, too, the soul, even when it has lost itself in the elements, finds itself again. Between “want” and “satisfaction” (frr. 24, 36), this process of becoming has its perpetual being. A day will come when the Fire will “overtake” everything (fr. 26); God will then be utterly by himself—all in all. But that is not the purpose of this world; here change, becoming and passing away will never end. Nor should they end; the “Strife” (fr. 43) which has created the world, and ever fashions it anew, is the most inward nature of the All-living which it perpetually stirs to insatiable desire of becoming. For the desire and refreshment of all things is Change (frr. 72, 83), the coming and going in the interplay of Becoming.
It is the precise opposite of a quietistic mood that speaks from the whole teaching of Herakleitos. His voice is a trumpet call that grows louder and louder as his lofty and majestic spirit with ever-increasing intensity proclaims prophet-like the last word of wisdom. He knows well that it is only labour that can give meaning to rest, and hunger to satisfaction; only sickness can call forth the desire of health (fr. 104). That is the law of the world which binds together the opposing contraries, each of which is engendered from the last, with an inward and complete necessity. He bows before it and assents to it. For him the fixity of the soul in a Blessedness that was without activity and without change—even if such were thinkable[24]—would not have seemed a possible goal of desire.
§ 4
Even before the days of Herakleitos the torch of philosophic inquiry had been borne from the coasts of Ionia to the West by Xenophanes of Kolophon who in a life of adventure had wandered as far as Southern Italy and Sicily. For his fiery temperament the most subtle reflection was turned into life and experience, and the one enduring source of Being to which he ever directed his gaze became the universal Divinity that is all perception and thought, that tirelessly embraces all things in its thought and intelligence, and, without beginning or end, perpetually remains the same with itself. What Xenophanes had to say about this God which for him is the same as the world, became the basis for the elaborated doctrine of the Eleatic school which, in declared opposition to Herakleitos,[25] denied all possibility of movement, becoming, alteration, division of the One into Many, to the one absolute Being that completely and entirely occupies Space, is raised [372] above all development, whether temporal or spatial, and remains perpetually enclosed in itself in absolute self-sufficiency.
For this view the whole multiplicity of things that presses itself upon sense-perception is an illusion. Deceptive also is the apparent existence of a multiplicity of animated beings, just as the whole of nature is an illusion. It was not “Nature”, the content of actual experience, that provided the starting-point of the philosophy of Parmenides. Without any assistance from experience, simply by the pure logical deductions to be made from a single fundamental concept (that of “Being”), which was to be grasped only by the understanding, this philosophy claimed to arrive at the whole content of its teaching. For the philosophic scientists of Ionia the soul also had been a part of nature and the science of the soul a department of the science of nature; and this inclusion of the psychical within the physical was the peculiarity in their doctrine of the soul which distinguished it from the ordinary popular psychology. When, however, the whole of Nature was to be ruled out of account as a subject of scientific knowledge, the derivation of psychology from physiology had to be given up as well. These aphysici[26] were logically debarred from holding any doctrine of the soul.
With a complaisance that is remarkable in view of the uncompromising logical vigour with which they deduced their main theory and based it on abstract, super-sensual knowledge, the Eleatics conceded so much at least to the region of appearance and the pressure of sense-perception that, although they did not deduce from their own fundamental conceptions a physical theory of multifarious appearance and its development, yet, side by side with their rigid doctrine of being, in unjustified and unjustifiable relation with it, they did in fact put forward such a theory. Xenophanes, himself, had already in the same way offered a physical theory of limited and relative validity. Parmenides in the second part of his doctrinal poem, developed, “in deceptive adornment of words,” not an authoritative statement of the true nature of being, but “human opinions” of becoming and creation in the world of multiplicity. This, too, must be the standpoint of the physiological doctrines put forward by Zeno of Elea, the boldest dialectician who upheld the doctrine of the motionless All-One. In the course of such a physiology, and with the same implied reservations, the Eleatic philosophers dealt also with the nature and origin of the soul. Their physical doctrine was framed entirely on the lines of the older type of [373] natural philosophy, and they regarded the relation of the spiritual to the corporeal from exactly the same point of view as their predecessors had done. For Parmenides (146 ff, Mull. = fr. 16 Diels) the mind (νόος) of man depends for its existence upon the mixture of two ingredients of which everything, including its body, is composed. These ingredients are the “Light” and the “Night” (the Warm and the Cold, Fire and Earth). What is intellectually active is, even in mankind, the “nature of his limbs”; the character of his thought is determined by the one of the two elements which preponderates in the individual. Even the dead man (because he still has a body) has feeling and sensation; but these powers are deserted by the warm and the fiery and given over to the cold, the dark, and silence. All that is has some capacity of knowledge.[27]—It would be impossible to condemn the “soul” to corporeality more completely than is here done by the bold philosopher of abstract Reason, who at the same time denied so unconditionally all validity to sense-perception. The soul is evidently no longer an independent substance but a mere resultant of material mixture, a function of elements in composition. For Zeno, too, the “soul” in the same way was an exactly equal mixture of the four elementary properties of matter, the Warm, the Cold, the Dry, and the Wet.[28]