pensate the deficiency; and for their esprit he has oddity and humour. In his cynicism there is less bravura, more bitterness.
Thinkers—the saying is Schopenhauer’s—may be classed according as they think for themselves or for others. The former are the true philosophers, finding their happiness in the exercise itself; the others are the sophists, seeking their reward in what they hope to get from the world. To exemplify the distinction, which, he says, may be seen by a man’s whole style and manner, Schopenhauer refers to Herder as a sophist, and Lichtenberg as a philosopher. In another passage he puts Lichtenberg into the same company with Theophrastus, Montaigne, La Rochefoucauld, Addison and others, as an informal, empirical psychologist. The truth is that our author, though he was a philosopher, did not develop any philosophical system. As a metaphysician he commented rather than speculated, raised questions rather than answered them. Lichtenberg himself says: “Although my philosophy does not suffice to discover anything new, it has at least heart enough to regard long-standing beliefs as not proved.” According to this and other remarks Lichtenberg may in philosophy be styled either a sceptic or a semi-Kantian, for he has distinct leanings towards the Kantian idealism. At best, however, he is a lukewarm adherent, and hovers
