the Sophists is
full of instruction. Its essential lesson is that to deny the
supremacy of reason, to set up any other process of consciousness
above reason, must inevitably end in scepticism and the denial of the
objectivity of truth and morality. Many theosophists and others, at
the present day, teach the doctrine of what they call "intuition." The
supreme kind of religious knowledge, they think, is to be reached by
intuition, which is conceived as something higher than reason. But
this is simply to make the mistake of Protagoras over again. It is
true that this so-called intuition is not merely sense-perception, as
was the case with Protagoras. It is, however, a form of immediate
spiritual perception. It is immediate apprehension of the object as
being present to me, as having _thereness_. It is therefore of the
nature of perception. It is spiritual and super-sensuous, as opposed
to material and sensuous, perception. But it makes no difference at
all whether perception is sensuous {154} or super-sensuous. To place
the truth in any sort of perception is, in principle, to do as
Protagoras did, to yield oneself up a helpless prey to the subjective
impressions of the individual. I intuit one thing; another man intuits
the opposite. What I intuit must be true for me, what he intuits true
for him. For we have denied reason, we have placed it below intuition,
and have thereby discarded that which alone can subject the varying
impressions of each individual to the rule of a universal and
objective standard. The logical conclusion is that, since each man's
intuition is true for him, there is no such thing as an objective
truth. Nor can there be such a thing, in these circumstances, as an
objective goodness. Thus the theory must end in total scepticism and
darkness. The fact that theosophists do not, as a matter of fact, draw
these sceptical conclusions, simply means that they are not as
clear-headed and logical as Protagoras was.

{155}

CHAPTER XI

THE SEMI-SOCRATICS

Upon the death of Socrates there ensued a phenomenon which is not
infrequent in the history of thought. A great and many-sided
personality combines in himself many conflicting tendencies and ideas.
Let us take an example, not, however, from the sphere of intellect,
but from the sphere of practical life. We often say that it is
difficult to reconcile mercy and justice. Among the many small
personalities, one man follows only the ideal of mercy, and as