>But the height of audacity in serving up pure nonsense, in stringing together senseless and extravagant mazes of words, such as had previously been known only in madhouses, was finally reached in Hegel, and became the instrument of the most barefaced general mystification that has ever taken place, with a result which will appear fabulous to posterity, and will remain as a monument to German stupidity. "Now if for this purpose I were to say that the so-called philosophy of this fellow Hegel is a colossal piece of mystification which will yet provide posterity with an inexhaustible theme for laughter at our times, that it is a pseudo-philosophy paralyzing all mental powers, stifling all real thinking, and, by the most outrageous misuse of language, putting in its place the hollowest, most senseless, thoughtless, and, as is confirmed by its success, most stupefying verbiage, I should be quite right. If I were to say that this pseudo-philosophy has as its central idea an absurd notion grasped from thin air, that it dispenses with reasons and consequents, in other words, is demonstrated by nothing, and itself does not prove or explain anything, that it lacks originality and is a mere parody of scholastic realism and at the same time of Spinozism, and that the monster is also supposed to represent Christianity turned inside out, hence, ‘The face of a lion, the belly of a goat, the hindquarters of a dragon,’ again I should be right. Further, if I were to say that this [Great Philosopher] of the Danish Academy scribbled nonsense quite unlike any mortal before him, so that whoever could read his most eulogized work, the so-called Phenomenology of the Mind, without feeling as if he were in a madhouse, would qualify as an inmate for Bedlam, I should be no less right."
>“Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel are in my opinion not philosophers; for they lack the first requirement of a philosopher, namely a seriousness and honesty of inquiry. They are merely sophists who wanted to appear to be rather than to be something. They sought not truth, but their own interest and advancement in the world. Appointments from governments, fees and royalties from students and publishers, and, as a means to this end, the greatest possible show and sensation in their sham philosophy-such were the guiding stars and inspiring genii of those disciples of wisdom. And so they have not passed the entrance examination and cannot be admitted into the venerable company of thinkers for the human race.
Nevertheless they have excelled in one thing, in the art of beguiling the public and of passing themselves off for what they are not; and this undoubtedly requires talent, yet not philosophical.”

Poor Zizek had to go through all that.

schop's critique of the germans doesn't amount to anything but ad hominems and then his philosophy is just lobotomized spinozism with kantian buzzwords thrown in

>>25301143
>>25301168
Right as usual

>>25301143
> he that gathereth without Me, scattereth abroad

Heinrich Heine on Hegel, in his Confessions and Letters About Germany.

>Everyone in Berlin was surprised at the intimate friendship between the profound Hegel and the late Heinrich Beer...this sort of Beer was the one who enjoyed the most intimate acquaintance of Hegel; he was the confidant of the philosopher, his Pylades, and accompanied him everywhere like his shadow. The equally witty and talented Felix Mendelssohn once sought to explain this phenomenon by claiming: Hegel does not understand Heinrich Beer. But I now think that the true basis of that intimate relationship was Hegel’s belief that Heinrich Beer did not understand anything of what he heard spoken, and thus, in his presence, he could allow himself at any moment to say whatever was on his mind without embarrassment. In general, conversation with Hegel was a sort of monologue, sighed forth spasmodically with a toneless voice. The baroque nature of his expressions frequently astounded me, and many of these remain in my memory. One beautiful starry evening, we stood, the two of us, at a window, and I, a young person of twenty-two, having just eaten well and drunken coffee, spoke rapturously about the stars, calling them the habitations of the blessed. The master, however, mumbled to himself, “The stars, ho! hum! the stars are just leprous spots glowing on the sky.” For God’s sake – I cried – is there no happy place up there to reward virtue after death? Hegel just stared at me with his pale eyes and said cuttingly, “You took care of your sick mother, and you didn’t poison your brother. Do you really expect to receive a tip?” – After these words, he looked around anxiously, but seemed grow calm soon afterwards when he saw that it was only Heinrich Beer approaching him to invite him to a round of whist.

Hegel's explanation re: the stars, in the Encyclopaedia #341,
>It has been rumoured round the town that I have compared the stars to a rash on an organism where the skin erupts in an countless mass of red spots: or to an ant-heap in which, too, there is Understanding and necessity. In fact, I do rate what is concrete higher than what is abstract, and an animality that develops into no more than a slime, higher than the starry host.

>>25301342
More Heine,

>We now have monks of atheism who would burn Mr. de Voltaire alive because he is a stubborn deist. I have to admit that I do not like this music, but it also does not frighten me, since I was standing behind the maestro [i.e., Hegel] when he composed it, in very confused and ornate symbols, to be sure, so that not everyone could decipher it – I saw how on occasion he would look around anxiously, worried that he would be understood. He was quite fond of me, since he was certain that I would not betray him; at the time, I even considered him servile. Once, when I was displeased by the phrase: “Whatever is, is rational,” he smiled in a strange way and remarked, “It could also be put: whatever is, must be.” He hastily looked around, but soon grew calm since only Heinrich Beer had heard him. I myself did not understand such figures of speech until later. Thus, it was only later that I understood why he had maintained in his philosophy of history that Christianity represented progress because it taught of a God who is dead, whereas the pagan divinities knew nothing of any death. What sort of progress it would be if God had never existed at all! We stood one evening at the window, and I poetized about the stars, the habitations of the blessed. The master mumbled to himself, “The stars are just leprous spots glowing on the sky.” – “For God’s sake,” I cried, “Is there no happy place up there to reward virtue after death?” He looked at me with mockery, “So you want a tip for doing what you were supposed to do while you were alive, caring for your sick mother, not letting your brother starve, and not poisoning your enemies?”