rivalled among philosophic Arabians only by Ibn-Sina or Avicenna of the East.—In order that any biography of Ibn Roschd be intelligible, it is necessary to view him in relation to the character of his race and the circumstances that encircled him. Without special reference indeed to the idiosyncracy of the Semitic people, one cannot appreciate the deserts either of Averrhoès, or of any other worker in the many-veined mine of philosophy. The difference between the modes of approaching philosophical subjects, belonging to the Semitic and Indo-European families, is so great, that it almost amounts to contrast. Whence that difference comes, or what is its root, is not a question for this place. The fact, however, is undeniable, that the Semitic race is essentially unscientific, and therefore adverse to the presentation of philosophical or moral truth in a scientific form. The Indo-European genius, on the contrary, tends irresistibly towards intellectual system, or science. Open the Vedas—the works of any Greek—or any characteristic specimen of Teutonic speculation; and then any literature whatever of Semitic origin. In the latter there is nothing beyond the principle of belief or intuition, supported by true or false Revelation; in the former we have inquiry and speculation, a thirst unquenchable after the reconcilement of the mysteries of the universe, and an unresting effort to reach the primal harmony of things. Each philosophy is characterized by its two poles. Among the Semitic races, these are, on the one hand, a living belief, which means a true life; on the other, a disastrous fanaticism. Among Indo-Teutons the two poles are, first, a high, aspiring, and, withal, a reverent although audacious intellectual activity; the other, a certain baseless speculative frenzy, or some dry and worthless dogmatism. It is strange how often the contrast of races reappears in the conflict of schools. The world is now so little simple—race mingling all over with race, and these diverse national characters, appealing successfully to individual idiosyncracies—that one need not marvel at the apparition of that contrast—analogous to the foregoing—which now separates what are termed the orthodox and rationalizing theologies of Europe. The euthanasy of the contest is, of course, reconcilement. Comprehension of the Infinite and of man's real subordinate relations, cannot be achieved, unless through concurrent efforts of all the faculties that dignify the human soul. It may very fairly be asked whether, if these general statements be true—there can be an Arabian philosophy, and what significance is included under the term 'Arabian philosopher'? The remark of a recent critic, as sagacious as learned, contains the correct reply. "It is only by an abuse of words, that the term 'Arabian philosophy' is applied to a philosophy which never had a root within the Peninsula, but which owed its birth to the reaction of Persic—(Indo-European)—against Arabian genius. The philosophy in question is written in Arabic—that is all! It is not Arabian either in spirit or in tendency." Men like Averrhoès were not Arabian philosophers; but rather very illustrious persons belonging to a branch of the Semitic race. And they struck out no national note: their efforts against the force of national tendency were vain. But, although they did not affect the character of their own people, and achieved nothing permanent as agents in the development of Arabian thought, they impressed a large influence on Europe, and largely sustained the life of the spirit of inquiry during those pregnant Middle Ages.
By the times of which we are about to write, the great Caliphate had—like Rome—separated into an Eastern and a Western power the Western, under a branch of the Ommyiades, having its seat in Andalusia. The great masters of the East had departed. Avicenna died in 1037; his opponent, Algazali, in 1111; and that liberal spirit, which—originated by the reaction of Persic thought—had, under Al-Raschid and Al-Mamoun, rendered the court of the caliphs the centre of science, so illustrating the cities of Bassora, Cufa, Balkh, Ispahan, and Samarcand, had given way before popular reaction. But the torch lighted at that centre, had been borne westward, and now blazed bright in Spain. The ultimate issue was the same—viz., extinction; but ere that catastrophe occurred, Inquiry had challenged, and, under good auspices, had won renown. Cordova, Grenada, Seville, and indeed most of the cities in the southern part of the Peninsula, rivalled one another in the magnificence of their schools, their colleges, their academies, and their libraries. No spot on the face of the earth is fitter to cultivate thought, or to lead to contemplation—calm or luxurious—than fair Andalusia. Setting aside its poets, we find here a Tofaïl, an Ibn-Badja, the great family of Ibn-Zohr, and, as the culmination and close of the brilliant history, Averrhoès, who himself fills nearly the whole of the twelfth century. When Averrhoès died in 1198, speculative philosophy, among the Arabians, had to part with its last representative.—The Kadhi Ibn-Roschd was born at Cordova about the year 1120. He seems to have ever loved Cordova. "If," he says, "a learned man dies at Seville, and his library is to be disposed of, it is sent to Cordova, where the sale is secure. If, on the other hand, a musician dies at Cordova, his instruments are transferred to Seville." The early associations of Averrhoès were all favourable to him. His parentage carried honour with it; he is said to have been a scholar of Avempace (Ibn-Badja); certainly Abnbacer (Ibn-Tofaïl) was the architect of his fortune; and he had the closest relation with the great family of Ibn-Zohr (the Avenzoars). The emir Yussuf was then on the throne. The following is the account by Averrhoès himself of his introduction to him—"When I appeared before the Commander of the Faithful, I found him alone with Ibn-Tofaïl. The latter spoke highly of me, boasting of my nobility, and of the antiquity of my family. As to this point, indeed, he somewhat exaggerated; at least he adduced circumstances of which I was quite ignorant. After certain formal conversation, the Emir asked me—'What is the opinion of philosophers concerning heaven? Is it an eternal substance, or a new and recent accident?' I was afraid and stunned, and could not at the moment state what I knew. The Emir understood my confusion, and turned to Ibn-Tofaïl, who thereupon discussed what Aristotle and Plato said on the subject, repeating also with wonderful stretch of memory all that the Moslem theologians had brought against the philosophers. The Emir having thus put me at ease, led me to converse in my turn. As I retired, I was presented with a purse and a cloak of honour of great value." Yussuf, at the suggestion of Tofaïl, induced Averrhoès to begin the true labour of his life—viz., comments on Aristotle. The bare titles of the works produced with this view by the Arabian would weary the reader. They are not indeed exact commentaries on Aristotle, for Averrhoès knew the immortal Greek only through the medium of imperfect translations, made from the Syriac. Nevertheless his own genius enabled him to penetrate so clearly into the aim and meaning of the Stagyrite, that far from unworthily, he came to represent him through a long period of the middle ages.—Court favour was not permanent with Averrhoès. The Emir who succeeded Yussuf—Jacoub Almansour-billah—loved to converse with him; but, in the end, he withdrew his countenance, and banished the philosopher to an obscure town, Lucena. The cause was clear: Ibn-Roschd had been heard to speak slightingly of the tale in the Koran concerning the destruction of the tribe of An. Moslem fury was roused: it was the old story—Woe to him who will speak against the gods! But the affection of Almansour virtually remained, and as soon as he could he recalled Averrhoès. Better still he revoked his former edicts against philosophy. The favour of the Emir, however, proved of no ultimate avail. Philosophy succumbed, and disappeared from the Caliphate when Averrhoès died. The Koran is, as it then was. But this thinker became a power among the Teutonic races; nor, considering him as the only accessible exponent of Aristotle, can we hesitate to hold in highest value the services he rendered to philosophy.—Of the personal character of Averrhoès almost nothing is known. What is told of him belongs to legend, and informs us far less of what he was, than concerning what was thought about him. Renan says with perfect truth, that neither by his studies nor by his character does he appear to have departed much from the type of the "learned Mussulman." He knew what the others knew: for medicine, Galen; for philosophy, Aristotle, or his translators; for astronomy the Almagest. Like every other Mussulman, he cultivated jurisprudence; and, like every distinguished Arabian, he was devoted to poetry.
It would be a great mistake to suppose that the Aristotelianism of these Arabians was the Aristotelianism of Aristotle. It can scarcely be said, indeed, that they ever saw the Stagyrite as he was. His doctrines, or rather his reputed doctrines, came to them through that all-distorting school of Alexandria; and the spirit of his method was so little preserved, that their best Inquirers wasted their powers on those very questions, regarding which their nominal Master studiously exercised wisest reserve. The problems that interested them most were two: one regarding the origin of finite and diversified Being; the other concern-
