This is a collection of quotes I have gathered regarding the division between active and contemplative, or theoretical and practical, whether regarded as a division of modes of life or of species of philosophy. They are in chronological order, I think.
(This blog post has been updated, silently, a few times. I have added some modern quotes about ancient and medieval authors, and I have found it fitting to add them into the order nearby the authors of whom they speak; so that now the chronological order is rather of sources than of quoted authors.)
Quite apart from the division into trilogies or tetralogies, there was current also among the Ancients a subtle logical division of the works of Plato, which possesses a real philosophical value.
It is assumed, to begin with, that the works of Plato fall into two main classes, one in which there is a more or less definite conclusion present in the author’s mind, to which he wishes to guide the reader, the other in which the object is vague inquiry. This gives us the two principal ‘characters’ of the λόγος Πλατωνικός—ύφηγητικός and ζητητικός. The foregone conclusion may be of a merely speculative nature or one bearing upon life and practice. Thus we are led to a subdivision of the first of the two main classes into theoretical and practical; and these again are subdivided respectively into physical and logical, ethical and political. It is on the other side of the division that we must look for the Meno. [...]
— St. George William Joseph Stock,[1] Introduction to the Meno of Plato
It is right also that philosophy should be called knowledge of the truth. For the end of theoretical knowledge is truth, while that of practical knowledge is action (for even if they consider how things are, practical men do not study what is eternal but what stands in some relation at some time).
— Aristotle, Metaphysics, 2.993b20
To judge from the lives that men lead, most men, and men of the most vulgar type, seem (not without some reason) to identify the good, or happiness, with pleasure; which is the reason why they love the life of enjoyment. For there are, we may say, three prominent types of life—that just mentioned, the political, and thirdly the contemplative life.
— Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1.5
Virtue being, as we have seen, of two kinds, intellectual and moral, intellectual virtue is for the most part both produced and increased by instruction, and therefore requires experience and time; whereas moral or ethical virtue is the product of habit, and has indeed derived its name, with a slight variation of form, from that word.
— Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 2.1 (1103a14–20)
You see here, Marcus, my son, the very form and as it were the face of Moral Goodness; “and if,” as Plato says, “it could be seen with the physical eye, it would awaken a marvellous love of wisdom.” But all that is morally right rises from some one of four sources: it is concerned either (1) with the full perception and intelligent development of the true; or (2) with the conservation of organized society, with rendering to every man his due, and with the faithful discharge of obligations assumed; or (3) with the greatness and strength of a noble and invincible spirit; or (4) with the orderliness and moderation of everything that is said and done, wherein consist temperance and self-control.
Although these four are connected and interwoven, still it is in each one considered singly that certain definite kinds of moral duties have their origin: in that category, for instance, which was designated first in our division and in which we place wisdom and prudence, belong the search after truth and its discovery; and this is the peculiar province of that virtue. For the more clearly anyone observes the most essential truth in any given case and the more quickly and accurately he can see and explain the reasons for it, the more understanding and wise he is generally esteemed, and justly so. So, then, it is truth that is, as it were, the stuff with which this virtue has to deal and on which it employs itself.
Before the three remaining virtues, on the other hand, is set the task of providing and maintaining those things on which the practical business of life depends, so that the relations of man to man in human society may be conserved, and that largeness and nobility of soul may be revealed not only in increasing one’s resources and acquiring advantages for one’s self and one’s family but far more in rising superior to these very things. But orderly behaviour and consistency of demeanour and self-control and the like have their sphere in that department of things in which a certain amount of physical exertion, and not mental activity merely, is required. For if we bring a certain amount of propriety and order into the transactions of daily life, we shall be conserving moral rectitude and moral dignity.
— Cicero, On Duties, §§15–17 (see also §19, §§69–73)
The true philosophers, Syrus, were, I think, quite right to distinguish the theoretical part of philosophy from the practical. For even if practical philosophy, before it is practical, turns out to be theoretical, nevertheless one can see that there is a great difference between the two: in the first place, it is possible for many people to possess some of the moral virtues even without being taught, whereas it is impossible to achieve theoretical understanding of the universe without instruction; furthermore, one derives most benefit in the first case [practical philosophy] from continuous practice in actual affairs, but in the other [theoretical philosophy] from making progress in the theory. Hence we thought it fitting to guide our actions (under the impulse of our actual ideas [of what is to be done]) in such a way as never to forget, even in ordinary affairs, to strive for a noble and disciplined disposition, but to devote most of our time to intellectual matters, in order to teach theories, which are so many and beautiful, and especially those to which the epithet ‘mathematical’ is particularly applied. For Aristotle divides theoretical philosophy too, very fittingly, into three primary categories, physics, mathematics and theology. For everything that exists is composed of matter, form and motion; none of these [three] can be observed in its substratum by itself, without the others: they can only be imagined. [...]
— Ptolemy, Almagest, preface (there is some good commentary on it in Chapter 2 of Ptolemy’s Universe)
[Aristotle] also shows that it is fitting that theoretical philosophy should receive its name from truth by his reference to the practical sciences, for the end of practical science is action (praxis), and not knowledge of the truth [involved] in things to be done. For even in cases in which practical men do examine the truth in the subject [with which they are dealing], they are not looking to the truth of anything eternal. Aristotle adds this remark in the belief that truth in the proper and fullest sense is that which deals with eternal things, not the truth involved in things to be done. Surely practical men are not concerned with truth of the former sort, but with truth that applies to a particular action at a particular time, and they refer their consideration to action. For the nature of things to be done is such that they are not always [done in the same way] nor universally, but that they vary both according to the age of those who perform them and according to the circumstances in which they happen [to be done] and according to the relationship [of the agent] to those toward whom they are directed. Indeed, even those inquiries concerned with the virtues (aretê) and with the activities in accordance with these, which are not pursued solely for the sake of theoretical knowledge, are in the practical [sphere] and deal with particulars; for it is to particulars that these inquiries are referred.
In saying, ‘[they do not look to] what is eternal’ [993b22], Aristotle points out that in practical matters the end is not truth or scientific knowledge (epistêmê), for the theoretical sciences deal with eternal objects.[...]
— Alexander of Aphrodisias, On Aristotle Metaphysics 2, 145,5–21 (pp. 19–20)
Action, thus, is set towards contemplation and an object of contemplation, so that even those whose life is in doing have seeing as their object; what they have not been able to achieve by the direct path, they hope to come at by the circuit.
Further: suppose they succeed; they desired a certain thing to come about, not in order to be unaware of it but to know it, to see it present before the mind: their success is the laying up of a vision. We act for the sake of some good; this means not for something to remain outside ourselves, not in order that we may possess nothing but that we may hold the good of the action. And hold it, where? Where but in the mind?
— Plotinus, Enneads, 3.8.6
As the human sciences came from the pagan antique, the accepted classifications of them naturally were taken from Greek philosophy. They followed either the so-called Platonic division, into Physics, Ethics, and Logic, or the Aristotelian division of philosophy into theoretical and practical. The former scheme, of which it is not certain that Plato was the author, passed on through the Stoic and Epicurean systems of philosophy, was recognized by the Church Fathers, and received Augustine’s approval. It was made known to the Middle Ages through Cassiodorus, Isidore, Alcuin, Rabanus, Eriugena and others.
Nevertheless the Aristotelian division of philosophy into theoretical and practical was destined to prevail. It was introduced to the western Middle Ages through Boëthius’s Commentary on Porphyry’s Isagoge, and adopted by Gerbert; later it passed over through translations of Arabic writings. It was accepted by Hugo of St. Victor, by Albertus Magnus and by Thomas, to mention only the greatest names; and was set forth in detail with explanation and comment in a number of treatises, such as Gundissalinus’s De divisione philosophiae, and Hugo of St. Victor’s Eruditio didascalica, which were formal and schematic introductions to the study of philosophy and its various branches.
— Henry Osborn Taylor, The Mediaeval Mind, vol. 2, ch. 35 (p. 312)
As the study of wisdom consists in action and contemplation, so that one part of it may be called active, and the other contemplative – the active part having reference to the conduct of life, that is, to the regulation of morals, and the contemplative part to the investigation into the causes of nature and into pure truth – Socrates is said to have excelled in the active part of that study, while Pythagoras gave more attention to its contemplative part, on which he brought to bear all the force of his great intellect. To Plato is given the praise of having perfected philosophy by combining both parts into one. He then divides it into three parts — the first moral, which is chiefly occupied with action; the second natural, of which the object is contemplation; and the third rational, which discriminates between the true and the false. And though this last is necessary both to action and contemplation, it is contemplation, nevertheless, which lays peculiar claim to the office of investigating the nature of truth. Thus this tripartite division is not contrary to that which made the study of wisdom to consist in action and contemplation.
— Augustine, City of God, 8.4
[...] in regard to the three modes of life, the contemplative, the active, and the composite, they declare in favor of the third. That these were the opinions and doctrines of the Old Academy, Varro asserts on the authority of Antiochus, Cicero's master and his own, though Cicero makes him out to have been more frequently in accordance with the Stoics than with the Old Academy. But of what importance is this to us, who ought to judge the matter on its own merits, rather than to understand accurately what different men have thought about it? [...] It is a matter of no moment in the city of God whether he who adopts the faith that brings men to God adopts it in one dress and manner of life or another, so long only as he lives in conformity with the commandments of God. And hence, when philosophers themselves become Christians, they are compelled, indeed, to abandon their erroneous doctrines, but not their dress and mode of living, which are no obstacle to religion. So that we make no account of that distinction of sects which Varro adduced in connection with the Cynic school, provided always nothing indecent or self-indulgent is retained. As to these three modes of life, the contemplative, the active, and the composite, although, so long as a man's faith is preserved, he may choose any of them without detriment to his eternal interests, yet he must never overlook the claims of truth and duty.
— Augustine, City of God, 19.2, 19.19
It would be desirable, first of all, to consider what philosophy itself is. Philosophy is the love and pursuit of wisdom, and in some sort the fellowship with it. By this wisdom, we must not understand that which has to do with special arts or with some mechanical science, but that which needs nothing besides itself, that which is the quickening mind and the primeval principle of things. This love of wisdom is the illumination of the intelligent mind from the pure wisdom, the drawing back and calling, as it were, that mind to herself. So that it may seem as much the pursuit of divinity as the pursuit of wisdom, the friendship of the pure mind with its object. This wisdom, therefore, imposes the worthiness of its own divinity upon every kind of souls which occupy themselves with it, and brings them to the force and purity of their true nature. Hence arises the truth of speculations and thoughts and the holy chastity of acts. Which consideration enables us to ascertain the proper division of philosophy. Philosophy being the genus, there are two species of it, one theoretic or speculative, the other practical or active. There will be as many species of speculative philosophy as there are subjects for reasonable speculation.
— Boethius, first commentary on the Isagoge, 1.3
Her garments were of an imperishable fabric, wrought with the finest threads and of the most delicate workmanship; and these, as her own lips afterwards assured me, she had herself woven with her own hands. The beauty of this vesture had been somewhat tarnished by age and neglect, and wore that dingy look which marble contracts from exposure. On the lower-most edge was inwoven the Greek letter Π, on the topmost the letter Θ, and between the two were to be seen steps, like a staircase, from the lower to the upper letter. This robe, moreover, had been torn by the hands of violent persons, who had each snatched away what he could clutch.
— Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy, 1
There are two lives in which Almighty God by His holy word instructs us—the active and the contemplative.
The active life is: to give bread to the hungry, to teach the ignorant the word of wisdom, to correct the erring, to recall to the path of humility our neighbour when he waxes proud, to tend the sick, to dispense to all what they need, and to provide those entrusted to us with the means of subsistence.
But the contemplative life is: to retain indeed with all one’s mind the love of God and neighbour, but to rest from exterior action, and cleave only to the desire of the Maker, that the mind may now take no pleasure in doing anything, but having spurned all cares, may be aglow to see the face of its Creator; so that it already knows how to bear with sorrow the burden of the corruptible flesh, and with all its desires to seek to join the hymn-singing choirs of angels, to mingle with the heavenly citizens, and to rejoice at its everlasting incorruption in the sight of God.
— Gregory the Great, Homilies on Ezekiel, 2.2.7–8 (see also 1.3.9–12, 2.2.7–15)
Let all then that strive to lay hold of the summit of perfection, when they desire to occupy the citadel of contemplation, first try themselves, by exercising, in the field of practice, that they may needfully acquaint themselves, if they now no longer bring mischiefs upon their neighbours, if when brought upon them by their neighbours, they bear them with composure of mind, if when temporal advantages are put in their way, the mind is never dissipated by joy, if, when they are withdrawn, it is not stung by overmuch regret, and then let them reflect, if, when they return inwardly to themselves, in this work of theirs of exploring spiritual things, they never draw along with them the shadows of corporeal objects, or when drawn along, as they may be, if they drive them off with the hand of discretion; if, when they long to behold the unencompassed light, they put down all images of their own compass, or in that which they seek to reach unto above themselves, conquer that which they are. Hence it is rightly said here, Thou shalt come to thy grave in abundance. (Job 5:26) For the perfect man does ‘come to the grave in abundance,’ in that he first gathers together the works of an active life, and then by contemplation wholly hides from this world his fleshly sense, which is now dead.
— Gregory the Great, Morals on the Book of Job, VI, §61 (see also the rest of ch. 37 – §§56–62)
The conduct of a prelate ought so far to transcend the conduct of the people as the life of a shepherd is wont to exalt him above the flock. For one whose estimation is such that the people are called his flock is bound anxiously to consider what great necessity is laid upon him to maintain rectitude. It is necessary, then, that in thought he should be pure, in action chief; discreet in keeping silence, profitable in speech; a near neighbour to every one in sympathy, exalted above all in contemplation; a familiar friend of good livers through humility, unbending against the vices of evil-doers through zeal for righteousness; not relaxing in his care for what is inward from being occupied in outward things, nor neglecting to provide for outward things in his solicitude for what is inward. But the things which we have thus briefly touched on let us now unfold and discuss more at length.
— Gregory the Great, The Book of Pastoral Rule, 2.1
These are all that is left to the Soul, when, for a time, she loses the light of contemplation, which loss is continually happening to her, in order that she may desire her Lord more and more. At such times she can only console herself with good works proceeding from an unfeigned faith. Whenever she falls from contemplation, she retires into activity, as being the best means of recovering her repose. For action and contemplation are near relatives, and love to remain together. Martha is the sister of Mary, and when the Bride goes forth from the light of contemplation, it is not to fall into the darkness of sin or the negligence of sloth, but to sustain herself in the lesser light of good actions.
— Bernard of Clairvaux, Fragments from a Fragment
[Aristotle] argues from [that wisdom is not a practical but a speculative science] to [that knowledge of the truth belongs pre-eminently to first philosophy] in this way. Theoretical, i.e., speculative, knowledge differs from practical knowledge by its end; for the end of speculative knowledge is truth, because it has knowledge of the truth as its objective. But the end of practical knowledge is action, because, even though “practical men,” i.e., men of action, attempt to understand the truth as it belongs to certain things, they do not seek this as an ultimate end; for they do not consider the cause of truth in and for itself as an end but in relation to action, either by applying it to some definite individual, or to some definite time. Therefore, if we add to the above the fact that wisdom or first philosophy is not practical but speculative, it follows that first philosophy is most fittingly called the science of truth.
— Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Metaphysics, 2.2§290
Properly speaking, those things are said to live whose movement or operation is from within themselves. Now that which is proper to a thing and to which it is most inclined is that which is most becoming to it from itself; wherefore every living thing gives proof of its life by that operation which is most proper to it, and to which it is most inclined. Thus the life of plants is said to consist in nourishment and generation; the life of animals in sensation and movement; and the life of men in their understanding and acting according to reason. Wherefore also in men the life of every man would seem to be that wherein he delights most, and on which he is most intent; thus especially does he wish “to associate with his friends” (Ethic. ix, 12).
Accordingly since certain men are especially intent on the contemplation of truth, while others are especially intent on external actions, it follows that man’s life is fittingly divided into active and contemplative.
— Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologiæ, II-II, Q. 179, A. 1, co. (see also QQ. 179–182)
Man is a reasonable being; and as such, receives from science his proper food and nourishment: But so narrow are the bounds of human understanding, that little satisfaction can be hoped for in this particular, either from the extent or security of his acquisitions. Man is a sociable, no less than a reasonable being: But neither can he always enjoy company agreeable and amusing, or preserve the proper relish for them. Man is also an active being; and from that disposition, as well as from the various necessities of human life, must submit to business and occupation: But the mind requires some relaxation, and cannot always support its bent to care and industry. It seems, then, that nature has pointed out a mixed kind of life as most suitable to human race, and secretly admonished them to allow none of these biasses to draw too much, so as to incapacitate them for other occupations and entertainments. Indulge your passion for science, says she, but let your science be human, and such as may have a direct reference to action and society. Abstruse thought and profound researches I prohibit, and will severely punish, by the pensive melancholy which they introduce, by the endless uncertainty in which they involve you, and by the cold reception which your pretended discoveries shall meet with, when communicated. Be a philosopher; but, amidst all your philosophy, be still a man.
— David Hume, An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, §1, ¶6
We proceed quite correctly if, as usual, we divide Philosophy, as containing the principles of the rational cognition of things by means of concepts (not merely, as logic does, principles of the form of thought in general without distinction of Objects), into theoretical and practical. But then the concepts, which furnish their Object to the principles of this rational cognition, must be specifically distinct; otherwise they would not justify a division, which always presupposes a contrast between the principles of the rational cognition belonging to the different parts of a science.
Now there are only two kinds of concepts, and these admit as many distinct principles of the possibility of their objects, viz. natural concepts and the concept of freedom. The former render possible theoretical cognition according to principles a priori; the latter in respect of this theoretical cognition only supplies in itself a negative principle (that of mere contrast), but on the other hand it furnishes fundamental propositions which extend the sphere of the determination of the will and are therefore called practical. Thus Philosophy is correctly divided into two parts, quite distinct in8 their principles; the theoretical part or Natural Philosophy, and the practical part or Moral Philosophy (for that is the name given to the practical legislation of Reason in accordance with the concept of freedom). But up to the present a gross misuse of these expressions has prevailed, both in the division of the different principles and consequently also of Philosophy itself. For what is practical according to natural concepts has been identified with the practical according to the concept of freedom; and so with the like titles, ‘theoretical’ and ‘practical’ Philosophy, a division has been made, by which in fact nothing has been divided (for both parts might in such case have principles of the same kind).
The will, regarded as the faculty of desire, is (in this view) one of the many natural causes in the world, viz. that cause which acts in accordance with concepts. All that is represented as possible (or necessary) by means of a will is called practically possible (or necessary); as distinguished from the physical possibility or necessity of an effect, whose cause is not determined to causality by concepts (but in lifeless matter by mechanism and in animals by instinct). Here, in respect of the practical, it is left undetermined whether the concept which gives the rule to the causality of the will, is a natural concept or a concept of freedom.
But the last distinction is essential. For if the concept which determines the causality is a natural concept, then the principles are technically practical; whereas, if it is a concept of freedom they are morally practical. And as the division of a rational science depends on the distinction between objects whose cognition needs distinct principles, the former will9 belong to theoretical Philosophy (doctrine of Nature), but the latter alone will constitute the second part, viz. practical Philosophy (doctrine of Morals).
All technically practical rules (i.e. the rules of art and skill generally, or of prudence regarded as skill in exercising an influence over men and their wills), so far as their principles rest on concepts, must be reckoned only as corollaries to theoretical Philosophy. For they concern only the possibility of things according to natural concepts, to which belong not only the means which are to be met with in nature, but also the will itself (as a faculty of desire and consequently a natural faculty), so far as it can be determined conformably to these rules by natural motives. However, practical rules of this kind are not called laws (like physical laws), but only precepts; because the will does not stand merely under the natural concept, but also under the concept of freedom, in relation to which its principles are called laws. These with their consequences alone constitute the second or practical part of Philosophy.
The solution of the problems of pure geometry does not belong to a particular part of the science; mensuration does not deserve the name of practical, in contrast to pure, geometry, as a second part of geometry in general; and just as little ought the mechanical or chemical art of experiment or observation to be reckoned as a practical part of the doctrine of Nature. Just as little, in fine, ought housekeeping, farming, statesmanship, the art of conversation, the prescribing of diet, the universal doctrine of happiness itself, or the curbing of the inclinations and checking of the affections for the sake of happiness, to be reckoned as practical Philosophy, or taken to constitute the second part of10 Philosophy in general. For all these contain only rules of skill (and are consequently only technically practical) for bringing about an effect that is possible according to the natural concepts of causes and effects, which, since they belong to theoretical Philosophy, are subject to those precepts as mere corollaries from it (viz. natural science), and can therefore claim no place in a special Philosophy called practical. On the other hand, the morally practical precepts, which are altogether based on the concept of freedom to the complete exclusion of the natural determining grounds of the will, constitute a quite special class. These, like the rules which nature obeys, are called simply laws, but they do not, like them, rest on sensuous conditions but on a supersensible principle; and accordingly they require for themselves a quite different part of Philosophy, called practical, corresponding to its theoretical part.
We hence see that a complex of practical precepts given by Philosophy does not constitute a distinct part of Philosophy, as opposed to the theoretical part, because these precepts are practical; for they might be that, even if their principles were derived altogether from the theoretical cognition of nature (as technically practical rules). [A distinct branch of Philosophy is constituted only] if their principle, as it is not borrowed from the natural concept, which is always sensuously conditioned, rests on the supersensible, which alone makes the concept of freedom cognisable by formal laws. These precepts are then morally practical, i.e. not merely precepts or rules in this or that aspect, but, without any preceding reference to purposes and designs, are laws.
— Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgment, Introduction, §I
Any complete human operation, from the simplest to the most complicated, whether executed by just one individual or by many, is inevitably composed of two parts, or, in other words, gives rise to two sorts of consideration: the one theoretical, the other practical; one a matter of conception, the other of execution. The first, as a matter of strict necessity, precedes the second, which it is meant to direct. In other words, there is never action without preliminary speculation. This analytical process can be observed even in operations which seem to be matters of pure routine; the difference is only in whether the theory is well- or ill-conceived. The man who, whatever the subject may be, claims not to allow his mind to be directed by theories, restricts himself, as we have seen, to refusing to allow the theoretical progress made by his contemporaries and to sticking with superannuated theories long after they have been replaced. Thus, for example, those who proudly affect not to believe in medicine ordinarily hand themselves over with an eager stupidity to the crudest charlatanism.
— Auguste Comte, Plan of the Scientific Work Necessary for the Reorganization of Society, in: Early Political Writings, p. 69 (see also: p. 1)
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