事实上，我最初写这封信(我会把它和一块糖一起放在一个粉红色的信封里)并不是为了有关哲学的问题。我只是想告诉你我很抱歉没有遵守你的规定。我曾想办法把船拉上岸，但显然我的力气不够大，或者可能是一个大浪把船打走了。
我希望你已经设法回到家，而且没有把脚弄湿。但就算你把脚弄湿了，你也可以稍感安慰，因为我自己也弄得湿淋淋的，而且可能还会得重感冒。当然啦，我是自作自受。
我没有碰小屋里的任何东西，不过很惭愧的是，我受不了诱惑，拿走了放在桌上的那封信。我并不是想偷东西，只是因为信封上写着我的名字，所以我在一时糊涂之下，便以为那是属于我的。
我真的很抱歉，我答应以后绝不会再让你失望了。
P.S:从现在开始，我会把所有的新问题很仔细地想过一遍。
PP.S：白色的五斗柜上那面镶铜框的镜子是普通的镜子还是魔镜？我之所以这样问，是因为我不怎么习惯看到自己在镜中的影像同时眨着两只眼睛。
敬祝安好
学生 苏菲敬上
苏菲把信念了两遍，才装进信封。她觉得这次的信不像上一封那么正式。在下楼到厨房拿糖之前，她特地再看了一下纸条上的问题：
“鸡和鸡的观念，是何者先有？”
思索
这个问题就像“鸡生蛋还是蛋生鸡”这个老问题一样难以回答。没有蛋就没有鸡，但没有鸡也无从有蛋。“先有鸡还是先有蛋’这个观念”这个问题真的一样复杂吗?苏菲了解柏拉图的意思。他是说早在感官世界出现鸡以前，“鸡”这个观念已经存在于观念世界多时了。根据柏拉图的说法，灵魂在寄宿于人体之前已经
“见过“观念鸡”。不过这就是苏菲认为柏拉图可能讲错的地方。一个从来没有看过一只活生生的鸡，也从来没有看过鸡的图片的人怎么可能会有任何有关鸡的“观念”呢。这又让她想到下一个问题：
“人是否生来就有一些观念呢?”苏菲认为，这是不太可能的。
她很难想象一个初生的婴儿有很多自己的想法。当然，这点我们无法确定，因为婴儿虽不会讲话，也并不一定意味着他的脑袋里没有任何想法。不过我们一定要先看到世间之物，才能对这些事物有所了解吧!
“植物、动物与人类之间有何区别?”答案太明显了，苏菲可以立即指出来。
例如，她认为植物没有复杂的感情生活。谁听过风铃草伤心欲碎?植物生长、吸收养分，然后制造种子以繁衍下一代。除此之外，
就没有什么了。苏菲的结论是：植物所有的，动物与人类也都有，但动物还有其他的特色。例如，动物可以移动，(谁听说过一株玫瑰可以跑六十公尺?)至于动物与人类之间的区别就比较难说了。人类能够思考，动物也会吗?苏菲相信她的猫咪雪儿懂得如何思考。至少它很会为自己打算，但是它会思索哲学问题吗?一只猫会去思考植物、动物与人类之间的差异吗?这是不太可能的。一只猫可能很快乐，也可能不快乐，但它会问自己“世间有没有上帝”或“猫儿有没有不朽的灵魂”这类问题吗?苏菲认为这是非常令人怀疑的。不过，话说回来，这个问题就像婴儿有没有自己的想法一样难以回答。就像我们很难和婴儿讨论这类问题一样，我们也很难跟一只猫谈这些问题。
“天为何会下雨?”苏菲耸了耸肩膀。下雨是因为海水蒸发，云层凝聚成雨滴的缘故。这个道理她不是三年级就学过了吗?当然，我们也可以说天之所以下雨是为了要让植物、动物能够生长。但这是真的吗?天空下雨真的有任何目的吗?
无论如何，最后一个问题至少与目的有关
“人需要什么才能过好的生活?”
哲学家在课程开始不久时曾经谈过这个问题。每一个人都需要食物、温暖、爱与关怀。这类事物是良好生活的基本条件。接着哲学家指出，人们也需要为一些哲学问题寻找答案。除此之外，拥有一份自己喜欢的工作可能也是很重要的。举例来说，如果你讨厌塞车，那么你要是当个计程车司机绝对不会快乐。如果你不喜欢做作业，那么你也许不太适合当老师。苏菲喜欢动物，想当兽医。不过，无论如何，她不认为人一定要中百万大奖才能过得好。事实上很可能正好相反。不是有句俗话说“游手好闲，易生祸端”吗?
苏菲一直待在房间内，直到妈妈叫她下楼吃晚饭为止。妈妈煮了沙朗牛排与烤马铃薯。真棒!餐桌上点了蜡烛，饭后还有奶油草莓当甜点。
吃饭时，母女俩谈天说地。妈妈问苏菲想如何庆祝自己的十五岁生日。再过几个礼拜苏菲的生日就到了。
苏菲耸了耸肩。
“你不想请别人到家里来吗?我的意思是，你不想开个宴会吗?”
“也许。”
“我们可以请玛莎和安玛丽来……还有海姬，当然啦，还有乔安，说不定还可以请杰瑞米。不过这得由你自己决定。你知道吗?
我还很清楚的记得我自己过十五岁生日酌情景。感觉上好像才没过多久。当时我觉得自己已经很大了。这不是很奇怪吗?苏菲。我觉得从那以后，自己好像一点都没变。”
“你没变啊。什么事情都没有改变。你只是不断成长，一年比 一年大罢了……”
“嗯……你说话已经有大人的口气了。我只是认为一切都发生得太快了，快得让人害怕。”
Aristotle
...a meticulous organizer who wanted to clarify our concepts
While her mother was taking her afternoon nap, Sophie went down to the den. She had put a lump of sugar in the pink envelope and written "To Alberto" on the outside.
There was no new letter, but after a few minutes Sophie heard the dog approaching.
"Hermes!" she called, and the next moment he had pushed his way into the den with a big brown envelope in his mouth.
"Good boy!" Sophie put her arm around the dog, which was snorting and snuffling like a walrus. She took the pink envelope with the lump of sugar and put it in the dog's mouth. He crawled through the hedge and made off into the woods again.
Sophie opened the big envelope apprehensively, wondering whether it would contain anything about the cabin and the boat.
It contained the usual typed pages held together with a paperclip. But there was also a loose page inside. On it was written:
Dear Miss Sleuth, or, to be more exact, Miss Burglar. The case has already been handed over to the police.
Not really. No, I'm not angry. If you are just as curious when it comes to discovering answers to the riddles of philosophy, I'd say your adventure was very promising. It's just a little annoying that I'll have to move now. Still, I have no one to blame but myself, I suppose. I might have known you were a person who would always want to get to the bottom of things.
Greetings, Alberto
Sophie was relieved. So he was not angry after all. But why would he have to move?
She took the papers and ran up to her room. It would be prudent to be in the house when her mother woke up. Lying comfortably on her bed, she began to read about Aristotle.
PHILOSOPHER AND SCIENTIST
Dear Sophie: You were probably astonished by Plato's theory or ideas. You are not the only one! I do not know whether you swallowed the whole thing--hook, line, and sinker--or whether you had any critical comments. But if you did have, you can be sure that the self-same criticism was raised by Aristotle (384-322 B.C.), who was a pupil at Plato's Academy for almost twenty years.
Aristotle was not a native of Athens. He was born in Macedonia and came to Plato's Academy when Plato was 61. Aristotle's father was a respected physician-- and therefore a scientist. This background already tells us something about Aristotle's philosophic project. What he was most interested in was nature study. He was not only the last of the great Greek philosophers, he was Europe's first great biologist.
Taking it to extremes, we could say that Plato was so engrossed in his eternal forms, or "ideas," that he took very little notice of the changes in nature. Aristotle, on the other hand, was preoccupied with just these changes--or with what we nowadays describe as natural processes.
To exaggerate even more, we could say that Plato turned his back on the sensory world and shut his eyes to everything we see around us. (He wanted to escape from the cave and look out over the eternal world of ideas!) Aristotle did the opposite: he got down on all fours and studied frogs and fish, anemones and poppies.
While Plato used his reason, Aristotle used his senses as well.
We find decisive differences between the two, not least in their writing. Plato was a poet and mythologist; Aristotle's writings were as dry and precise as an encyclopedia. On the other hand, much of what he wrote was based on up-to-the-minute field studies.
Records from antiquity refer to 170 titles supposedly written by Aristotle. Of these, 47 are preserved. These are not complete books; they consist largely of lecture notes. In his time, philosophy was still mainly an oral activity.
The significance of Aristotle in European culture is due not least to the fact that he created the terminology that scientists use today. He was the great organizer who founded and classified the various sciences.
Since Aristotle wrote on all the sciences, I will limit myself to some of the most important areas. Now that I have told you such a lot about Plato, you must start by hearing how Aristotle refuted Plato's theory of ideas. Later we will look at the way he formulated his own natural philosophy, since it was Aristotle who summed up what the natural philosophers before him had said. We'll see how he categorizes our concepts and founds the discipline of Logic as a science. And finally I'll tell you a little about Aristotle's view of man and society.
No Innate Ideas
Like the philosophers before him, Plato wanted to find the eternal and immutable in the midst of all change. So he found the perfect ideas that were superior to the sensory world. Plato furthermore held that ideas were more real than all the phenomena of nature. First came the idea "horse," then came all the sensory world's horses trotting along like shadows on a cave wall. The idea "chicken" came before both the chicken and the egg.
Aristotle thought Plato had turned the whole thing upside down. He agreed with his teacher that the particular horse "flows" and that no horse lives forever. He also agreed that the actual form of the horse is eternal and immutable. But the "idea" horse was simply a concept that we humans had formed after seeing a certain number of horses. The "idea" or "form" horse thus had no existence of its own. To Aristotle, the "idea" or the "form" horse was made up of the horse's characteristics--which define what we today call the horse species.
To be more precise: by "form" horse, Aristotle meant that which is common to all horses. And here the metaphor of the gingerbread mold does not hold up because the mold exists independently of the particular gingerbread cookies. Aristotle did not believe in the existence of any such molds or forms that, as it were, lay on their own shelf beyond the natural world. On the contrary, to Aristotle the "forms" were in the things, because they were the particular characteristics of these things.
So Aristotle disagreed with Plato that the "idea" chicken came before the chicken. What Aristotle called the "form" chicken is present in every single chicken as the chicken's particular set characteristics--for one, that it lays eggs. The real chicken and the "form" chicken are thus just as inseparable as body and soul.
And that is really the essence of Aristotle's criticism of Plato's theory of ideas. But you should not ignore the fact that this was a dramatic turn of thought. The highest degree of reality, in Plato's theory, was that which we think with our reason. It was equally apparent to Aristotle that the highest degree of reality is that which we perceive with our senses. Plato thought that all the things we see in the natural world were purely reflections of things that existed in the higher reality of the world of ideas--and thereby in the human soul. Aristotle thought the opposite: things that are in the human soul were purely reflections of natural objects. So nature is the real world. According to Aristotle, Plato was trapped in a mythical world picture in which the human imagination was confused with the real world.
Aristotle pointed out that nothing exists in consciousness that has not first been experienced by the senses. Plato would have said that there is nothing in the natural world that has not first existed in the world of ideas. Aristotle held that Plato was thus "doubling the number of things." He explained a horse by referring to the "idea" horse. But what kind of an explanation is that, Sophie? Where does the "idea" horse come from, is my question. Might there not even be a third horse, which the "idea" horse is just an imitation of?
Aristotle held that all our thoughts and ideas have come into our consciousness through what we have heard and seen. But we also have an innate power of reason. We have no innate ideas, as Plato held, but we have the innate faculty of organizing all sensory impressions into categories and classes. This is how concepts such as "stone," "plant," "animal," and "human" arise. Similarly there arise concepts like "horse," "lobster," and "canary."
Aristotle did not deny that humans have innate reason. On the contrary, it is precisely reason, according to Aristotle, that is man's most distinguishing characteristic. But our reason is completely empty until we have sensed something. So man has no innate "ideas."
The Form of a Thing Is Its Specific CharacteristicsHaving come to terms with Plato's theory of ideas, Aristotle decided that reality consisted of various separate things that constitute a unity of form and substance. The "substance" is what things are made of, while the "form" is each thing's specific characteristics.
A chicken is fluttering about in front of you, Sophie. The chicken's "form" is precisely that it flutters--and that it cackles and lays eggs. So by the "form" of a chicken, we mean the specific characteristics of its species--or in other words, what it does. When the chicken dies--and cackles no more--its "form" ceases to exist. The only thing that remains is the chicken's "substance" (sadly enough, So-phie), but then it is no longer a chicken.
As I said earlier, Aristotle was concerned with the changes in nature. "Substance" always contains the potentiality to realize a specific "form." We could say that "substance" always strives toward achieving an innate potentiality. Every change in nature, according to Aristotle, is a transformation of substance from the "potential" to the "actual."
Yes, I'll explain what I mean, Sophie. See if this funny story helps you. A sculptor is working on a large block of granite. He hacks away at the formless block every day. One day a little boy comes by and says, "What are you looking for?" "Wait and see," answers the sculptor. After a few days the little boy comes back, and now the sculptor has carved a beautiful horse out of the granite. The boy stares at it in amazement, then he turns to the sculptor and says, "How did you know it was in there?"
How indeed! In a sense, the sculptor had seen the horse's form in the block of granite, because that particular block of granite had the potentiality to be formed into the shape or a horse. Similarly Aristotle believed that everything in nature has the potentiality of realizing, or achieving, a specific "form."
Let us return to the chicken and the egg. A chicken's egg has the potentiality to become a chicken. This does not mean that all chicken's eggs become chickens--many of them end up on the breakfast table as fried eggs, omelettes, or scrambled eggs, without ever having realized their potentiality. But it is equally obvious that a chicken's egg cannot become a goose. That potentiality is not within a chicken's egg. The "form" of a thing, then, says something about its limitation as well as its potentiality.
When Aristotle talks about the "substance" and "form" of things, he does not only refer to living organisms. Just as it is the chicken's "form" to cackle, flutter its wings, and lay eggs, it is the form of the stone to fall to the ground. Just as the chicken cannot help cackling, the stone cannot help falling to the ground. You can, of course, lift a stone and hurl it high into the air, but because it is the stone's nature to fall to the ground, you cannot hurl it to the moon. (Take care when you perform this experiment, because the stone might take revenge and find the shortest route back to the earth!)
The Final Cause
Before we leave the subject of all living and dead things having a "form" that says something about their potential "action," I must add that Aristotle had a remarkable view of causality in nature.
Today when we talk about the "cause" of anything, we mean how it came to happen. The windowpane was smashed because Peter hurled a stone through it; a shoe is made because the shoemaker sews pieces of leather together. But Aristotle held that there were different types of cause in nature. Altogether he named four different causes. It is important to understand what he meant by what he called the "final cause."
In the case of window smashing, it is quite reasonable to ask why Peter threw the stone. We are thus asking what his purpose was. There can be no doubt that purpose played a role, also, in the matter of the shoe being made. But Aristotle also took into account a similar "purpose" when considering the purely lifeless processes in nature. Here's an example:
