W! ■ ilmMini 8$ m$m $ra ■■ $x jSpBMtifl H ■i H KHKftW''^' wm. m m wSm ■ H - 4± V* % > y n TheLBR 1 /*?£ PKEFACE. The following pages on Socrates and the Socratic ools are intended to offer to the English reader part of Dr. Zeller's work, entitled ' Die Philo- hie der Grriechen,' which treats of Socrates and imperfect Socratic Schools. This part has been chosen, in preference to any other, in the hope of supplying an introductory volume to the real philoso- phy of Greece, as it found expression in the complete systems of Plato and Aristotle. The person of So- crates, too, is so much the Sphinx of philosophy that any contribution from foreign sources which throws light on his life and his surroundings is likely to excite general interest. The aim of the translator has been to adhere to the substance of Dr. Zeller's work, without necessarily adopting his language. In some parts the idea of a close translation has been followed, whilst in other parts considerable freedom of expression has been allowed; the invariable design being to repro- duce the substance of Dr. Zeller's teaching in an vi PRE! ACE. intelligible form, avoiding as far as possible all technicalities and unnecessary abstractions. The writer is aware how imperfectly he has been able to realise his own standard of excellence; but he believes that there is a large class of students who find it difficult to understand the work of Dr. Zeller in the original, and who will therefore accept with gentle criticism even an imperfect attempt. The thanks of the writer are due to the Eev. Walter Mooney Hatch, of New College, and to the Eev. Henry J. Graham of Grarsington, for assistance in preparing the manuscript for the press.] OXHEY ElSE, NEAR WATFOED I January, 1868. •CONTENTS. PAET I. THE GENERAL STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. CHAPTEE I. THE INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF GREECE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY, B.C. PAGE Introduction. The problem proposed to philosophy . 2 A. The problem solved by political circumstances — 1. Political unsettledness .... 2 2. Athens a centre of union ... . . 3 B. The problem solved by literature — 1. The Tragedians. JEschylus — Sophocles — Euri- pides ..... 2. Didactic Poetry. Simonides — Bacchylides — Piu dar ..... 3. The Historians. Herodotus — Thucydides . 4. Comedy. Aristophanes C. The problem solved by new forms of religion 19 22 26 28 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. CHARACTER AND PROGRESS OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY IN FIFTH CENTURY, B.C. A. Distinction of Socratic from pre-Socratic Philosophy 1. Knowledge substituted for tradition 2. Study of conceptions substituted for study of nature ..... B. Importance of the doctrine of conceptions 1. Definition of a conception . 2. Theory of conceptions expanded C. Distinction of Socratic from post- Aristotelian Philosophy 1. Knowledge believed to be possible . 2. Morality not pursued independently 3. Less subjectivity attaching to Socratic Philosophy D. The Socratic Philosophy developed — 1. Socrates ..... 2. Plato ..... 3. Aristotle ..... 4. Difficulty caused by Socratic Schools THE PAGE 32 34 35 36 37 38 40 41 42 43 44. 45 45 PAET II. SOCBATES. CHAPTER III. THE LIFE OF SOCRATES. A. Youth and early training B. Active life 48 54 CONTENTS. IX CHAPTER IV. THE CHARACTER OF SOCRATES. A. Greatness of the character of Socrates B. Influence of Greece on his character C. Prominent features in his character D. The haifxoviov 1. Palse views of the daifj.6viov 2. Schleiermacher's view 3. The dai/j.oviov not conscience 4. Not a general conviction of a divine calling 5. Correct view of the hai^oviov PA&U 63 66 69 72 7S 75 77 78 79 CHAPTER V. SOURCES AND CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCRATES. A. Xenophon and Plato considered as authorities B. General point of view of Socrates C. Theory of knowledge of conceptions considered D. Moral value of this theory E. Its subjective character . CHAPTER VI. THE PHILOSOPHICAL METHOD OF SOCRATES. A. Knowledge of ignorance the first step in self-knowledge . B. Search for knowledge the second step — Eros and Irony ...... C. Formation of conceptions the third step CHAPTER VII. SUBSTANCE OF THE TEACHING OF SOCRATES — ETHICS. A. The subject-matter restricted to Ethics . B. Virtue is knowledge — the leading thought of the Socratic Ethics ..... 82 86 89 92 100 103 106 112 118 x CONTENTS. PAGE C. The Good and Eudaemonism — 1. Theoretically Virtue is knowledge about the Good . 123 2. Practically the Good determined by custom or utility . • . . . .124 3. Superficial character of the view glossed over . 126 D. Particular Moral Eelations — 1. Personal independence . . .130 2. Friendship . . . . . .132 3. The State . . . . . .135 4. Universal philanthropy . . . .139 CHAPTER YIIL SUBSTANCE OF THE TEACHING OF SOCRATES, CONTINUED NATURE — GOD MAN. A. View of Nature — 1 . Nature a system of means subordinated to ends . 141 2. Value of this theory considered . . .144 B. Notion of God and the Worship of God — 1. Language about the Gods taken from popular use . 144 2. God conceived as the Reason of the world . . 145 3. The Forethought of God . . . .146 4. The Worship of God . . . .147 C. Dignity and Immortality of man . . . .147 CHAPTER IX. XENOPHON AND PLATO. SOCRATES AND THE SOPHISTS. A. Value of Xenophon as an authority — 1. Xenophon in harmony with Plato and Aristotle . 150 2. Schleiermacher's objections refuted . . 152 B. Importance of Socrates for the age in which he lived — 1. Value attaching to his method . . . 154 2. Interest attaching to the object pursued . . 155 C. Relation of Socrates to the Sophists . . .156 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER X. THE TRAGIC END OF SOCRATES. Circumstances connected with his trial and death — 1. The Accusation 2. The Defence 3. The Sentence 4. His Death . Causes which led to his sentence 1. The Sophists innocent 2. Personal animosity only partially the cause 3. Political party-feeling only partially involved 4. The teaching of Socrates generally believed to be dangerous .... Justification of the sentence 1. Unfounded charges brought against Socrates 2. The views of Socrates subversive of old views of authority — political life — religion 3. Relation borne by his views to cotemporary views 4. Result of his death .... 161 164 166 167 169 169 172 177 180 186 187 192 197 201 PAET III. THE IMPERFECT FOLLOWERS OF SOCRATES. CHAPTER XI. THE SCHOOL OF SOCRATES — POPULAR PHILOSOPHY. XENOPHON — .ESCHINES- A. School of Socrates . . . B. Xenophon ...... C. iEschines ...... D. Simmias and Cebes ..... 202 204 208 209 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. THE MEGARIAN AND THE ELEAN-ERETRIAN SCHOOLS. The Megarians — A. History of the School 212 B. Their Doctrine 217 1 . Being and Becoming 219 2. The Good . . 222 C. Eristic . 225 1. Euclid , 226 2. Eubulides . 228 3. Alexinus . 228 4. Diodorus on Motion — Destruction — the Possible . 229 5. Philo. The Possible — Hypothetical sentences — Meaning of words 233 6. Stilpo. Subject and Predicate — the G-ood — Cynic Morality . 234 The Elean-Eretrian School. A. History of the School — 1. The School at Elis . 2. The School at Eretria B. Doctrine of the School . 237 238 239 CHAPTER XIII. THE CYNICS. A. History of the Cynics B. Teaching of the Cynics . 1. Depreciation of theoretical knowledge 2. Limits to this depreciation . 3. Nominalism 4. Denial of contradiction 242 247 247 249 251 255 CONTEXTS. C. Cynic theory of Morality — 1. Negative conditions — Good and Evil 2. Positive side — Virtue 3. Wisdom and Folly .... D. Practical results of Cynic teaching 1. Eenunciation of Self 2. [Renunciation of Society. Family Life — Civil Life — Modesty .... 3. Eenunciation of Eeligion . E. Cvnic influence on the world 256 263 266 267 268 272 278 281 CHAPTEE XIV. THE CYRENAICS. A, History of the Cyrenaics . 287 B. Teaching of the Cyrenaics 293 1. General position .... 294 2. Feelings the snbject of knowledge . 296 3. Pleasure and pain .... 300 4. The Highest Good .... 302 5. Modified form of the extreme view . 304 C. Practical Life of the Cyrenaics . 308 D. Eelation of their teaching to Socrates 316 1. Eelation of their philosophy 316 2. Eelation of their moral teaching 318 3. Eelation of their political views 320 4. Aristippns further removed from Socrates thai L Antisthenes .... 320 5. Genuine Socratic teaching . 321 E. The later Cyrenaics .... 323 1. Theodoras ..... 323 2. Hegesias ..... 326 3. Anniceris ..... 328 xiv COXTJEXTS. CHAPTER XV. RETROSPECT. PAGE A. Inconsistencies of the imperfect Socratic Schools . 332 B. These Schools more closely related to Socrates than to the Sophists — 1. Megarians and Cynics . . . .333 2. Aristippus ...... 334 C. Importance of these Schools — 1. As settling the problems for subsequent philo- sophy ...... 335 2. As preparing the way for the post- Aristotelian systems . . . . .336 3. As themselves representing the spirit of their age . 337 PAET I. THE GENERAL STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. CHAPTEE I. THE INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF GREECE IN THE FIFTH CENTURY. The intellectual life of Greece had reached a point Chap. towards the close of the fifth century, in which '_ the only alternatives open to it were either to give up science altogether, or to attempt a thorough transformation of it on a new basis. The older schools were not indeed wholly extinct; but all belief in the systems taught had been practically undermined, and a general disposition to doubt had set in. Following the practice of the Sophists, men had begun to call everything into question — to attack or defend with equal readiness every opinion. Faith in the aim of human ideas, or in the validity of moral laws, had wholly disappeared. Natural philosophy, on which the attention of thinkers had been en- grossed for upwards of a century and a half, had now become distasteful ; and, in tine, scientific enquiry had been supplanted by a merely superficial culture B STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. I. Problem proposed to philosophy in the fifth century. A. The problem solved by political events. (l)-Po- litical un- of thought and language, and by the acquisition of such accomplishments only as were likely to serve the purposes of social life. This state of things was, however, naturally calcu- lated to lead men to search after a new method of knowledge — one which would avoid the defects and one-sidedness of previous systems, by a more rigorous treatment of the questions raised. The possibility of a new method had been indirectly pointed out by the logical inconsistencies of previous speculation, and the instruments for scientific enquiry had been sharpened by eristic quibbles and subtleties, and ample material for the erection of a new structure might now be gained from the ruins of those that had preceded it. Moreover, the practical effect of the Sophistic tendencies had been, to open up a new field of enquiry, which gave promise of a rich harvest for speculative enquiry. The question now proposed to Greek philosophy was, whether a creative genius would arise to make use of the material prepared, and to direct thought into a new channel. It was at this crisis that Socrates appeared. The question depended greatly on the course which political circumstances, moral life, and general culture had taken. The connection between philo- sophy and the conditions of social life, at all times intrinsic, had been brought out by the Sophists with striking clearness. In its political character, too, Greece had undergone changes of the most startling kind. Never has a nation had a more rapid or more brilliant career of military glory in ILLUSTRATED BY POLITICS. union with high culture than had the Greeks. Yet Chap. never has national decay been more rapid or more '_ complete. The achievements of the Persian war, the rich profusion of brilliant art of the time of Pericles, were followed immediately by an internal conflict, which wasted the strength and prosperity of the free cities of Greece in unhallowed domestic quarrels. In the course of this conflict, the inde- pendence which Greece had so hardly won, was hopelessly lost, her freedom undermined, her moral instincts corrupted, and her reputation irretrievably ruined. A progress which elsewhere it would have required centuries to make, had been worked out within a few generations. When the pulse of national life beat so fast, the general spirit was sure to be exposed to rapid and marked changes; and where so much that was great had happened in so short a time, a rich growth of ideas was sure to spring up, awaiting only the magic touch of skill to form themselves into scientific systems. The position assumed by Athens since the close (2) Athens ^ of the Persian war, was of the greatest importance un ion and for the future of Philosophy. During their recent stability. struggles the consciousness of their common connec- tion had dawned upon the Hellenes with a force hitherto unparalleled. The representations in myth and legend of a Grecian expedition against Troy, might seem to be realised in the domain of actual history, in Greece standing as a united nation opposed to the East. The general headship of this body had fallen to the lot of Athens, which in conse- B 2 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. quence became the centre also of the intellectual ; movement, 'the Prytaneum of the wisdom of Greece.' l This circumstance in itself had a most beneficial effect on the subsequent development of philosophy. Already in the previous schools, an impulse might have been noticed prompting them to come forth from isolation ; an active interchange of thought was carried on between the East and the West of Grreece, through the cosmical philosophers of the fifth century ; and now that the Sophists were travelling from one end to the other of the Grecian world, and were carrying to Thessaly the eloquence of Sicily, to Sicily the doctrines of Heraclitus, these various sources of culture could not fail gradually to flow together into one mighty stream. Still it was of great importance, that a solid bed should be hollowed out for this stream, and that its course should be directed towards a fixed end, a result which was brought about by the rise of the Attic philosophy. When once the various tendencies of pre-Socratic enquiry had met and crossed in Athens, as the common centre of the Grecian world, it was possible for Socrates to set up a more comprehensive view of science ; and henceforth Greek philosophy continued to be so firmly bound up with Athens, that till the time of the New Academy that wonderful city continued to be the birthplace of all schools historically impor- tant, as it was the last refuge to which they retreated before they were finally suppressed by Justinian. In attempting, by means of the literary remains 1 So called by Hippias in Plato, Prot. 337, D. ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS. we possess, to realise to ourselves the change which Chap. took place in the Grreek mode of thought during the fifth century, and in trying to estimate the worth and B - ^ he problem extent of the contributions yielded to philosophy by solved by the general culture of the time, we must, in the first hterature < place, look to the great Athenian tragedians, as they (i) The will be found admirably to depict the character of t^tians. the respective epochs to which they successively belong. In the first of them, iEschylus, there is an ty /^ s " ° J ? chylus. earnestness of purpose, a depth of religious feeling, a surpassing power and grandeur, worthy of a man of ancient virtue, who had himself taken part in the great battles with the Persians. At the same time there is something harsh and violent in his poetry, a quality which in a time of heroic deeds and sacri- fices, of mighty chances and inspiriting results, can- not either be softened down or dispensed with. The spirit of his tragedies is that of a manly nature, undaunted and giant-like, rarely moved by tender- ness of feeling, but spell-bound by reverence for the gods, the recognition of an unbending moral order, and resignation to a destiny from which there is no escape. The Titan-like daring of unbridled strength, the w T ild fury of the passions and of mad- ness, the crushing might of fate, the dread of divine vengeance, no poet ever painted more thrillingly than iEschylus. Eeverence for the power of the Gods is the source of all his convictions, but in that power his eye at a glance sees, as it were, the monotheism of one almighty power. What Zeus says comes to pass; his will is always carried out, STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. even though it escape the notice of men; ! no mortal ' can do anything against his will, 2 none can escape the decision of heaven, or rather destiny, 3 over which Zeus himself is powerless. 4 Man in the face of this divine power feels himself weak and frail; his thoughts are fleeting as the shadow of smoke ; his life is like a picture which a sponge washes out. 5 Man must not ignore his position, he must learn not to overrate what is human, 6 let him not be indignant with the Grods when in affliction, 7 let his feelings not rise too high ; let him remember that the grain ot guilt, planted by pride, grows to a harvest of tears, 8 — such is the teaching which, with glowing- words, flashes on us in every page of the poet. Not even iEschylus, however, was able to grasp this idea in its purity, or to rise above the contradiction which runs not only through Greek tragedy, but through the whole of the Greek view of life. On the one hand he gives utterance to the ancient belief in the envy of the Grods, which is so closely connected with the peculiarity of natural religion ; sickness lurks under the rudest health — the wave of fortune, when it bears man highest on its crest, breaks on a hidden reef — the man on whom fortune smiles, must voluntarily renounce a part of what he has, 9 if he will escape ruin ; even heaven itself brings guilt on 1 Suppl. 598; Agamemnon, 5 Fragm. 295; Agam. 1327. 1485. 6 Niobe, Fr. 155. 2 Prometh. 550. 7 Frag. 369 (Dindorf ). 3 Pers. 93 ; Fragm. 299 (Din- 8 Pers. 820. dorf). 9 Agamem. 1001 ; compare 4 Prometh. 511. Herodotus, iii. 40. ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS. men, when it will utterly destroy a family. 1 On the Chap, other hand, ^Eschylus never tires of insisting on the '_ connection between guilt and punishment. He not only paints with telling touches the unavoidable nature of divine vengeance, the mischief which fol- lows in the wake of pride, the never-dying curse of crime, in the old stories of Niobe and Ixion, of Laius and the house of Atreus, but in the unexpected result of the Persian expedition he sees a higher hand, visiting with punishment the self-exaltation of the great king, and the insults offered to the gods of Greece. Man must suffer 2 according to his deeds. God blesses him who lives in piety without guile and pride, but vengeance, 3 though slow at first, suddenly comes upon the transgressor of right. Dike strikes some down with a sudden blow, 4 and slowly crushes others. The curse of crime gathers strength from generation to generation, just as virtue and happi- ness 5 descend on children and children's children. The Furies are at work in the concerns of men, avenging the fathers' sins on the sons, 6 sucking the criminal's life-blood, stealthily clinging to his feet, throwing round him the snares of madness, pursuing him with punishment down to the shades. 7 Thus the thought of divine justice and of implacable destiny runs firmly and steadily through all the plays of iEschylus. But all the more remarkable on that account is the vigour with which he breaks through 1 Niobe, Fr. 160; blamed by 3 Eumen. 530; Fr. 283. Plato, Kep. 380, A. 4 Choeph. 61. 2 Agam. 1563 ; Cboeph. 309 ; 5 Agam. 750. 6 Eum. 830. Fr. 282. 7 Eum. 264, 312. 8 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. . the fetters of this view of the world. In the • » Eumenides, these moral collisions, the play of which JEschylus can so well pourtray, 1 are brought to a satisfactory issue when the Olympic Goddess of light appeases the avenging spirits of Night, and the seve- rity of the ancient blood-exacting Justice gives w T ay to human kindness. In the Prometheus, natural re- ligion as a whole celebrates its moral transfiguration ; the zeal of the gods against men is seen to resolve itself into mercy ; Zeus himself requires the aid of the Wise One, who has felt the whole weight of divine wrath because of his kindness to men ; but, on the other hand, the unbending disposition of the Titan is relaxed, and Zeus' rule of might is changed v into a moral government of willing subordination. But in reality the history which the poet places in the mythical past is that of his own time and of his own mind. He was standing on the boundary line ^between two periods of culture, and the story he tells of the mitigation of ancient justice, and of the new rule of the Gods, was acted over again in another way when the sternness of the race which fought at Marathon softened down into the genial beauty which characterised the time of Pericles. (b) Sopho- This new spirit finds its fullest expression in the plays of Sophocles. Although in principle he agrees with his predecessor, his tragedies create a very different impression. The keynote of his poetry is equally reverence for the Gods, whose hand and law encompass human life. All things, even mis- 1 Choeph. 896; Eum. 198,566. ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS. fortune, 1 come from the Gods ; no mortal can with- Chap. stand their never decaying power; nothing can escape their decree ; 2 no deed and no thought can be hid from their eyes ; 3 no one may transgress their eternal laws, 4 created as they are by a superhuman power. Men, however, are weak and frail, mere shadows or dreams, non-existent, and only capable of a passing semblance of happiness. 5 No mortal's life is free from misfortune, 6 and even the happiest man cannot be called happy before his death ; 7 and taking all things into account, which the changing day brings with it, the number of woes, the rarity of good-fortune, the end to which all must come, it would be well to repeat the old saying, ' Not to have been born is the best lot, and the next best is to die as soon as may be.' 8 The highest wisdom of life is, therefore, to control our wishes, to moderate our desires, to love justice, to fear God, to be resigned to fate. Sophocles makes use of the example of men who have been hurled from the summit of fortune, or who have been ruined by recklessness and overbearing, to show that man should not exalt himself above what is human, for only the modest man is acceptable to the Gods ; 9 arrogance hurries on to sudden destruction; Zeus hates the vaunts of a boasting tongue. 10 Like 1 Ajax. 1036; Track 1278. 7 (Ed. E. Track 1, 943; Fr. 2 Antig. 604, 951 ; Fr. 615. 532, 583. 3 Electra, 657. 8 (Ed. Col. 1215. 4 (Ed. Eex, 864; Ant. 450. ° Ajax, 127, 758; (Ed. Col. 5 Ajax, 125; (Ed. E. 1186; 1211 ; Fr. 320, 528. Fr. 12, 616, 860. 10 (Ed. E. 873; Ant. 127. 6 Ant. 611; Fr. 530. 10 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. iEschylus, Sophocles is full of the thought of ' divine retribution and of the worth of virtue. He knows that uprightness is better than riches, that loss is better than unjust gain, that heavy guilt en- tails heavy punishment, but that piety and virtue are worth more than all things else, and are rewarded not only in this world but in the next. 1 He even declares that it is more important to please those in the next world than those in this. 2 Moreover, he is convinced that all wisdom comes from the Gods, and that they are always leading to what is right, 3 though at the same time men may not cease from learning and striving. 4 He bids them to commit their griefs to Zeus, who looks down from heaven and arranges all things, and to bear what the Grods send with re- signation : 5 and in this belief he remains unshaken, despite the misfortunes of many good men, and the good fortune of many bad ones. 6 The same thoughts had inspired the poetry of JEs- chylus, and yet the spirit of the drama of Sopho- cles is very different from his. There is in Sophocles a higher artistic perfection, a richer dramatic move- ment, a finer painting of the inner life, a more care- ful development of actions from character and of character from actions, a softer beauty, a clearer and more pleasing language, without at all rivalling the stormy power, the wild exultation, and the 1 Fr. 18, 210, 196; Philoc. bablv there is a 6eia ^o?pa. 1440. 4 Fr. 731, 736. 2 Ant. 71. 5 Elec. 174; Fr. 523, 862. 3 Fr. 834, 227, 809, 865; in 6 Fr. 104. the unintelligible $ei% fjptpa pro- ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS. 11 grand view of history taken by iEschylus. But the Chap. moral ground of the two tragedians is not the ' same. Both are penetrated with reverence for the Gods ; but, in the case of iEschylus, this reverence is combined with a dread which has first to be- set aside, and with a contradiction, which has to be overcome before it can come up to the trustful re- signation and the blissful grace of the piety of Sopho- cles. The power of fate seems with iEschylus much harsher, because it is less called for by the character of those whom it reaches : the reign of Zeus is a reign of terror, mitigated only by degrees, and the individual must perish if the Deity establish too close a relation with him. 1 Both celebrate the victory of moral order over human self-will; but in iEschylus the victory is preceded by severer and more dreadful struggles. Moral order is, with him, a tremendous power, crushing the refractory ; whereas, with Sopho- cles, its work is completed with the quiet certainty of a law of nature, and awakens pity for human weak- ness rather than terror. That conflict of the old stern blood-exacting justice with the new, which is the sub- ject of the Eumenides, forms the background of the plays of Sophocles, with whom justice is, from the very beginning, united with mercy, and in the ' OEdipus Coloneus ' the most accursed of all mortals finds an end in expiation. His heroes too are of a different kind to those of his predecessor. In ^Eschylus moral opposites are so hard, that human 1 Compare the character of lo in the Prometheus, especially v. 887, &c. 12 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. representatives of them are not adequate to express ' them ; and thus he brings into the battle-field Zeus and the Titans, the daughters of Night and of Olympus ; but the tragedy of Sophocles takes place entirely in the world of men. The former prefers to introduce mighty natures and uncontrolled passions. The latter loves to depict what is noble, self-contained, tender ; strength is generally placed side by side with dignity, and pain with resignation, for which reason his female characters are exquisitely true to life. iEschylus describes the demoniacal side of woman's nature with all its repulsiveness in his Clytsemnestra ; Sophocles in his Antigone displays the true woman who knows ' how to love but not to hate,' l and who by the heroism of her love puts hatred to shame. In short the poetry of Sophocles sets before us an epoch and a people which has risen to fame and power by successful attempts at a happy use of its capacities, and which, enjoying its own existence, has learned to look on human nature and all that belongs to it in a cheerful spirit, to prize its great- ness, to mitigate its sufferings by timely recognition, to bear its weakness, to control its excesses by custom and law. From him the idea may be gathered, as it may from no other poet, of a beautiful natural agreement between duty and inclination, between freedom and order, which constitutes the moral ideal of the Greek world. (c) EuH- Euripides is only about four or five Olympiads later than Sophocles ; but his writings present a 1 Ant, 523. %es. ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS. 13 remarkable change in ethical tone and view of life. Chap. ... I Even as an artist Euripides constantly uses calcula- ' tion to supply the place of an immediate poetic in- spiration, and discriminating reflection in the place of a harmonising admiration. By means of particu- lar scenes of an exciting and terrifying character, by choruses which have often little to do with the action of the play, and by rhetorical declamations and sayings, he endeavours to produce an effect, which might be gained in greater purity and depth from the connection of the whole. So too the agreement of moral and religious life, which com- mended itself so strongly to us in Sophocles, may be seen in a state of dissolution in the plays of the younger poet. He must not, however, be supposed to be deficient in moral maxims and religious thoughts. He knows full well that piety and the virtue of moderation are the best things for man; that he who is mortal must not grow proud in suc- cess or despairing in misfortune ; that he can do nothing without the Gods ; that in the long run the good man succeeds and the bad fails ; that a mo- derate good-fortune is preferable to the vicissitudes of greatness; 1 that the poor man's fear of the Gods is worth more than the pompous sacrifices of many a rich one; that virtue and understanding are better than wealth and noble birth. 2 He discourses at length of the benefits conferred hy the Gods on men, 3 he speaks well of their righteous and almighty rule, 4 1 Bacch. 1139 ; Fr. 77, 80, 257, 3 Suppl. 197. 305, &c. * Troad. 880; Hel. 1442. 2 Fr. 329, 53, 254. 14 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. and he even traces back human guilt to their will. 1 ' But all such expressions, however numerous, do not contain the whole of his view of the world, and the ethical peculiarity of his poetry is not to be found in them. Euripides has sufficient appreciation of what is great and morally beautiful, to be able to paint it when it occurs in a true and telling manner. But as he is a student of philosophy, 2 and is related in spirit to the better Sophists, he deviates too far from the older method of thought, to be able to devote himself absolutely and with real conviction to the traditional faith and morality. He has sober under- standing enough to recognise that many myths are improbable and unseemly ; but he has not suffi- cient artistic power to rise above this for the sake of the ideas they embody, and for their poetic worth. The fortunes of men do not seem to him to be the immediate revelation of a higher power, but rather the result of natural cause, of calculation, of caprice, and of chance. Even moral principles appear waver- ing, and though on the whole they are looked upon as binding, still the poet cannot conceal from him- self that much may be said for an immoral course of conduct. The sublime poetic view of the world, the half-moral, half-religious way of looking at hu- ~ man life, has been succeeded by a sceptical tone, a 1 Hippol. 1427. Restit. i. 109, 118. Anaxagoras, 2 Compare with reference to however, does not, like Euripides, the views of Anaxagoras, which make Earth arid Ether, but Air are especially to be found in the and Ether come first after the Fragments, Hartung's Euripides original mixing of all things. ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS. 15 critical reflection, and a kind of natural positivism. Chap. iEschylus brought the Eumenides, in the uncouth ' guise of antiquity, yet with a startling effect on to the stage ; whereas the Electra of Euripides says to her brother, or rather the poet himself says, that the Furies are mere offsprings of the imagination. 1 While Iphigeneia is preparing to sacrifice the captives, she reflects that the goddess herself cannot possibly re- quire this sacrifice, and that the story of the feast of Tantalus is a fable. 2 Similarly in the Electra 3 the chorus raises doubts as to the miracle of the change in the course of the sun. In the Troades, 4 Hecuba calls in question the story of the judgment of Paris, and explains the assistance of Aphrodite in carrying off Helen to mean the attractive beauty of Paris. In the BacchaB, 5 Teiresias gives an insipid, half-natural explanation of the birth of Bacchus. 6 The Grods, says Euripides, 7 have no needs, and therefore the stories which impute to them human passions cannot pos- sibly be true. Even the general notions of divine punishment give him offence. Punishment must not be looked upon as a visitation for particular acts, but as a general law. 8 In other cases he throws blame on the actions and commands of the Grods — a blame too which, for the most part, is not called for by the development of the characters, and en- tails no punishment in the sequel ; and it must, therefore, necessarily appear as the poet's own con- 1 Orest. 248, 387. 5 265. 2 Iphi. Taur. 372. 6 Frag. 209. 3 734. 7 Here. Fur. 1328. 4 963. 8 Fr. 508. 16 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. viction ; l and from this he at one time concludes, : that man need not disturb himself because of his faults, since the Gods commit the same; at another time, that the stories about the Grods cannot be true. 2 He attaches an equally slight importance to pro- phetic art, and makes use of an opportunity in the Helen, 3 to prove, on highly rationalistic grounds, that it is lying and deceit. 4 Belief in the Grods is, however, thoroughly interwoven with these myths and rites. No wonder, then, that the poet often makes his heroes utter statements about the existence of the Grods, which would sound much better from the mouth of Protagoras, than from men and women of the mythical past : as, for instance, when Talthybius raises the question and asks whether there are Grods, or whether Chance guides all things ; 5 or when an- other is made to doubt the existence of the Grods, 6 because of the unjust distribution of good and bad fortune. Hecuba in her prayer wonders what the deity really is, whether Zeus, or natural necessity, or the spirit of mortal beings ; 7 Hercules and Clyteem- nestra leave it an open question, whether there are Grods, and who Zeus is ; 8 and even the Ether is ex- plained to be Grod. 9 These utterances prove at least 1 Io, 448, 1315; Elect. 1298; with Euripides. Orest. 277. 5 Hel. 484. 2 Here. Fur. 1301. 6 Fr. 288; compare Fr. 892. » 743. 7 Troad. 877. 4 Sophocles, Antig. 1033, 8 Here. Fur. 1250; Iph. Aul. makes Cleon attack the prophet, 1034; Orestes, 410. but his accusations are refuted 9 Fr. 935, 869. by the sequel. But not so ILLUSTRATED BY TRAGEDIANS, 17 that Euripides had wandered far away from the Chap. ancient faith, but though we allow that he utters his ' own belief when he asserts, that only a fool can deny the deity and believe the false pretensions of philo- sophy about what is hidden, 1 still in general he appears to assume a sceptical and critical attitude towards the popular faith. Probably he allowed that there was a God, but he certainly attributed no value to the mythical notions about the (rods; he believed that the essence of &od could not be known, and he presupposed the oneness of the divine nature either by glossing over or by plainly denying the ruling Pantheism. 2 In a similar way he expresses himself about the popular ideas on the future state. Naturally enough, he makes use of them when it is in his power, but then he also says, that we know not how it is with another life, we only follow an un- foimded opinion. In several places he gives utter- ance to an opinion 3 which refers partly to Orphic and Pythagorean traditions, and partly to the teach- ing of Anaxagoras and Archilaus, that the spirit re- turns at death to the ether from which it came ; 4 and apparently leaves it an undecided question, whether at all, or to what extent, consciousness belongs to this soul when united with the ether. 5 Nor is the sphere 1 Fr. 905. 981. soul of the dead does not survive, 2 Fr. 804. but vet it has an eternal con- 3 Hippolyt. 192. scionsness after it has united with 4 Suppl. 532 ; Hel. 1012 ; Fr. the immortal Ether. From this 836. he deduces the belief in retribu- 5 He says in the Helen : The tion after death, and he asks (Fr. C 18 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. of morals untouched by these doubts ; a fact which • may be gathered from the general character of his tragedies rather than from particular statements, though the latter sufficed to give offence to his con- temporaries. 1 The tragic motives of Euripides, like those which iEschylus and Sophocles had so deeply sounded, are not to be sought in the collision of moral forces, but in personal passions, complications and experiences. His heroes have not that ideal character which makes them types of a whole class, and there- fore, the highest necessity which we admired before is not active in the development of the Euripidean drama, but the solution of the plot is visibly brought about by the appearance of Grods, or by some human device. Thus a tragedian, so rich in poetic beauties, so successful in painting individual characters, so experienced in knowledge of human life and human frailty, so telling in many of his speeches and acts, must yet be said to have come down from the moral and artistic height of his two great predecessors, in order to introduce into tragedy a method of inward reflection, of studied effect, and of artificial language, like that which was followed by the delicate neatness of Agatho, and the didactic pretensions of Critias. (2) Didac- Cotemporary with JEschylus, or even a little tic poetry. J3 e f ore him, lived the poets Epicharmus, Simonides, and Pindar, and soon after him Bacchylides. It 639), whether on the whole life the Heraclid. 591, he leaves it is not death and death life. On an open question whether the the other hand in the Troades, 638, dead have any feelings, he says, the dead man is like an l As for instance : t\ yAacro-' unborn child, feelingless ; and in o,uayiOKe, &c. Hippol. 607. ILLUSTRATED BY DIDACTIC POETRY. 19 belongs to a former period to shew what a rational Chap. I. view of the world is taken by Epicharmus, and how pure are his moral and theological notions, thanks to his connection with philosophy, Simonides, too, 0) Smo- 711CL6S seems on the whole, so far as his views can be gath- ered from scattered fragments, to uphold the cause of moderation and self-restraint ; the result, however, of recognising human weakness and frailty. Our life is full of sorrows l and troubles ; its fortune is un- certain ; it is quickly gone ; even prudence 2 is too readily lost by men, and their hardly-won virtue is imperfect and unreliable, and changes with cir- cumstances. He fares best on whom the Grods bestow prosperity. A faultless man must not be looked for ; it must be enough to find one righteously dis- posed. 3 The art of Simonides is inherited by Bac- chylides, who gives utterance to the same feelings, (b) Bac- He knows that no one is altogether happy, and that c y es ' few are preserved from heavy changes of fortune, and breaks out into complaints of others: 'Not to have been born were the happiest lot ; ' 4 and hence he places the highest wisdom of life in equanimity, that is, content with the present, and takes no thought for the future. 5 At the same time he is convinced that man can discover what is right, and that Zeus, the almighty ruler of the world, is not to blame for the misfortunes of mortals. 6 Exactly the same sentiments may be observed (c) Pindar 1 Fr. 32, 36, 38, 39. 4 Fr. 1, 2, 3, 21. 2 Fr. 42. 5 Fr. 19. 3 Fr. o. 6 Fr. 29. c 2 20 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. here as were expressed by the earlier didactic poets, ' without, however, any noticeable difference in a moral point of view. A more peculiar and more powerful spirit, and one nearly akin to iEschylus, finds utterance in Pindar. The secret of Pindar's view of the world, like that of iEschylus, is an exalted notion of the Deity, < Grod is the all ; ' l nothing is impossible for Him. Zeus governs all things according to His will. It is He that bestows success or failure. 2 In Him the law, to which both Grodsand men must bow, realises itself with a mighty power. 3 Even the deeds of men are not hid from His all-seeing eyes. 4 Only what is beautiful and noble can be attributed to the Gods. He who accuses them of human vices cannot escape their punish- ment. 5 In contrast with this divine exaltation, man occupies a twofold attitude. On the one hand his nature is related to that of the Grods — the two races come from a single stock; on the other hand his power is infinitely different, and neither in body nor in mind can we creatures of the day be compared with the immortals ; 6 our lot is changeful, and joy and sorrow lie near together. 7 True wisdom, there- fore, consists in not going beyond the bounds of 1 Clemens Stromat. y. 610 : 3 Fr. 146. Hivdapos . . . avTLKpvs el-nw, 4 01. i. 64 ; Pyth. iii. 28. ri Beds ; on rb -nav. It may have 5 01. i. 28. been that Pindar used the words 6 Nem. vi. 1. According to QebsTo-Kav in the same sense that Frag. 108, the soul, the elBcoAov Sophocles said (Trach. 1278) ahdvos, comes from God alone, ov5e»> tovtow 07 l fxr] Zeus, to express, and proves its higher nature in All depends upon G-od. dreams. 2 Fr. 119; Pyth. ii. 49, 88; 7 01. ii. 30. Nem. x. 29. ILLUSTRATED BY DLDACTLC POETRY. 21 what is human, in looking to the Gods for all that is Chap. good, and in being content with, what they bestow. ' 1 Seek not to be a Grod,' exclaims the poet ; ' what is mortal becomes mortals, and he who soars to heaven will, like Bellerophon, have a precipitate fall.' l Bless- ing and success is only to be had when God points the way ; 2 the result of our labour is in His hand, according as he is determined by destiny. 3 From Grod comes all virtue and knowledge ; 4 and for the very reason that it is a gift of Grod, natural talent is placed by Pindar far above all acquirements, and the creative spirit, to which Deity has imparted Himself, above all other spirits, as the eagle of Zeus is above the croaking rooks. 5 We must resign ourselves to what Grod disposes, and be content with our lot, whatever it be. Strive not against Grod ; bear his yoke without kicking against the pricks ; adapt your- self to. circumstances; seek not what is impossible; in all things observe moderation ; beware of envy, which strikes the highest most severely. These are the counsels of the poet. 6 To give greater weight to his moral counsels he not unfrequently appeals to a future retribution, of the wicked as well as of the good, in doing which he sometimes follows the ordinary notions of Tartarus, of Elysium, and the islands 7 of the blest, whilst at other times he con- 1 01. v. 24; Isthm. v. 14; vii. 25, iii. 40. 42. « Pyth. ii. 34, 88 ; iii. 21, 59, 2 Pr. 85. 103; xi. 50; Pr. 201. 3 Pyth. xii. 28. 7 01. ii. 56 ; Pr. 106, 120. 4 01. ix. 28, 103; Pyth. i. 41 ; Pr. 108 seems only to presuppose Pr. 118. the current notions, with this 5 01. ii. 86, ix. 100 ; Nem. i. difference, that a more intense 22 STATU OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. nects with them a belief in the migration of souls. 1 ' On the whole, the religious and moral point of view in Pindar is not different from that of iEschylus, although the thought of divine justice is not brought out by him with such tragic force. (3) Histo- If we would see this view of life as it appears in its transitions to a later form, no better example can (a) Hero- be selected than Herodotus, the friend of Sophocles. In writing his history, Herodotus sometimes allows himself to be guided by the notions of olden times. He recognises the rule of divine providence in the order of nature, 2 and equally clearly in the fortunes of men, and especially in punishment, which over- takes the guilty, even if he has only indulged a guilt- less passion to excess. 3 The popular forms of worship are honoured by him, 4 because he knew that every nation clings most closely to its own usages, and that only a madman can treat them with disdain. 5 He has sufficient credulity to relate in good faith several miracles and prophecies, 6 and among them some of the most extraordinary kind. His piety bears the impress of antiquity, in being connected with that life is given to souls in Hades 2 Her. iii. 108. than was the view of Homer and 3 ii. 120; iv. 205; vi. 84; the mass of people. Fr. 109 is viii. 129; vii. 133. probably spurious. 4 For instance, he hesitates to 1 Fr. 110, 01. ii. 68. Accor- utter the names of Egyptian ding to the latter passage, in Grods in a context which might which Pindar is most explicit, desecrate them, ii. 86, or to speak reward or punishment follows in of Egyptian mysteries. = Hades. Only a few distinguished 5 iii. 38. men are able to return to life, 6 vii. 12, 57; viii. 37, 65; ix. and allowed to enjoy the higher 100. Here belong the prophecies bliss on the islands of the blessed of Bakis and Musaeus, viii. 77 ; by a threefold life of innocence. ix. 43. ILLUSTRATED BY HISTORIANS. 23 fear of divine powers so peculiarly adapted to natural Chap. religion, because there the exaltation of the Grods above men is not conceived of in all its intensity, but regarded in a physical rather than in a moral light. Man is not destined to enjoy perfect good fortune; his life is exposed to changes innumerable; before his death no one can be called happy, and in general it is a matter for doubt whether death is not better for a man than life. 1 He who by prosperity or self- satisfaction rises above the lot of men, is invariably the victim of the envy of the Deity, which, jealous of its privileges, will not brook a mortal rival. 2 This is altogether in agreement with the spirit, which breathes through the older poetry of Greece. But for all that, Herodotus is unable to conceal from as the fact that he is a product of an epoch, in " which thought has already begun to shake the foun- dations of a simple faith. With whatever naivete he may tell a number of wonderful stories, there are times when he declares a belief in the appearance of Gods 3 (which, be it said, pointed to a plain act of deception) to be extremely simple, and when he refers to an earthquake as the cause of a result attri- buted to Poseidon by the Thessalian legend. 4 But a rationalistic tendency clearly comes to light when " he, by preference, receives mythical explanations in the taste of a later Euemerism, and even carries them further himself. 5 Add to this that he occasionally 1 ii. 31. 4 vii. 129. 2 On the Belov (pdovspdv, conf. i. 2 See the legends of Io and 32, 34; iii. 40; vii. 10, 5, 46. Europa, i. 1 ; of G-yges, i. 8 ; of 3 i. 60. the doves of Dodona, ii. 56 ; of 24 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. expresses the opinion that all men know equally ' little about the Gods, 1 and it will be patent, how much doubt was already encroaching on the ancient faith. (h) Thucy- In Thucydides, the next great historian, faith had already changed into a natural way of treating history. No one will deny the high moral earnestness of his writings. His history of the Peloponnesian war in its unfinished form has all the effect of a stern tragedy. But this effect is brought about purely by ^historical positivism, without introducing the inter- position of the gods to explain events. Thucydides knew how indispensable religion was for the public good ; his very descriptions show how deeply he deplored that his country, not only morally but reli- giously, suffered decay ; 2 yet in his pages the rule of the deity and of moral order in the world is only allowed to be seen by the light of history. Con- vinced that human nature is always the same, he insists on moral laws by showing in a given case, that ruin naturally results from the weakness and the passions of men, all of which he knows well and can judge impartially. 3 But he nowhere betrays a belief in those extraordinary occurrences, in which Herodotus saw the hand of God. Where his contemporaries fancied they saw the fulfilment of a prophecy, he contented himself with sober criticism. 4 To depend on -oracles instead of taking active steps, he calls the folly Helen, ii. 113-120; of Hercules, 3 iii. 82, 84; and in the de- ii. 43, 146. scription of the Sicilian expedi- 1 ii. 3. tion, its motives and results, vi. 2 See the well-known passages 15, 24, 30; vii. 75, 87. ii. 53; iii. 82. 4 For instance, ii. 17, 54. ILLUSTRATED BY HISTORIANS. 25 of the masses/ and openly expresses his disapproval of Chap. the disastrous superstition of Mcias. 2 In the panegyric ' of the dead, 3 which is a memorial of his own spirit quite as much as of the spirit of the age of Pericles, he does not deign to bestow a single word on the mythical history of Athens, the hackneyed theme of ancient panegyrists ; but instead of it, with a statesmanlike disposition, he clings to what is actual, and to prac- tical questions. His history is a brilliant evidence of manly vigour and high intellectual culture, of a many- sided experience of life, of a calm, unimpassioned, penetrating, and morally correct view of the world. It is a work which fills us with the highest respect not only for the writer, but for the whole period, which could bring to maturity a genius like that of Thucydides. At the same time, however, this work contains the darker sides of the period concealed within. We have only to read the descriptions it gives 4 of the confusion of all moral notions in the factious struggles of the Peloponnesian war, of the desolation of Athens by the plague, of the decline of piety and self- sacrifice, of reckless indulgence in selfish passions, to be convinced how in that period of might and culture,- moral worth had altogether degenerated. To prove beyond all question, that along with those outward relations all general convictions had been shaken, Thucydides puts in the mouth of several of his speakers, and particularly of those who represented 1 v. 103. 3 ii. 35. 2 vii. 50. 4 ii. 53 ; iii. 82. 26 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. Athens, naked avowals of the most selfish principles, _ which could come only from the lips of some of the younger sophists. Popular Athenian speakers and ambassadors 1 are made to express themselves on every occasion unblushingly, to the effect that all who have the power seek to rule, that no one is restrained by considerations of justice from pursuing his ad- vantage by every means in his power, that the rule of the stronger is the universal law of nature, that at bottom every one estimates justice and honour by his own interests and tastes, and that even the best regulated states act on this idea, at least in their relations with others. Even those who have to suffer from the selfishness of the Athenians, are in the end hardly able to blame it. 2 It is thus seen that moral and political conditions invariably keep pace with the sophistic character of scientific culture. (4) The Co- How little other prudent men were deceived about medians. j^q (J an g ers which this course of things was bringing upon them, and how little they were able to control it, or to stand aloof from the spirit of their times, Aristopka- may be seen by the example of Aristophanes. This poet is an enthusiastic admirer of the good old time, with its steady morality, its strict education, its military prowess, its orderly and prudent adminis- tration. 3 He grows warm and sublime whenever he speaks of the days of Marathon ; 4 lashes with im- placable satire, now in the form of bantering jest, nes. 1 i. 76; iii. 40; y. 89, 105, 3 Clouds, 882; Knights, 1316. 11; vi. 85. 4 "Wasps, 1071 ; the Achar- 2 iv. 61. nians, 676. ILLUSTRATED BY COMEDY. 27 now in that of bitter earnestness, these new-fangled Chap. notions which have forced themselves into the place ' of time-honoured institutions — the unbridled demo- cracy with its demagogues and sycophants l — the empty, effeminate, free-thinking poetry, so faithless to its moral idea, so fallen from its artistic height 2 — the sophistic culture with its unfruitful speculations, dangerous alike to faith and morals, which instead of steady citizens and sober-minded men, can only bring up shameless quibblers, atheistic reasoners, 3 or unconscionable perverters of justice. Zeal for what is ancient is with him undeniably an affair of indivi- dual conviction. This is what may be gathered from the earnestness, the warmth, and the classic beauty of those passages, which set forth the praise of the olden time and its customs; but it is more undeniably mani- fested in the general tendency of his comedies: and if he justly commends his own courage to us in discharg- ing his duty to his city against Cleon, 4 the claim to be a noble man fighting for a principle, cannot be fairly denied him. But Aristophanes, while warmly taking the field against the spirit of innovation, at the same time not only presupposes this very spirit, but actually furthers and, to a certain extent, promotes it in his hearers. He lashes the demagogues and sycophants; but whilst lashing them he tells us that every place is full of them, that democracy has a hundred heads, 1 Wasps; Clouds, 568. Frogs, 1491. 2 Frogs; Achar. 39.3. 4 Wasps, 1029, 1284; Peace. 3 Clouds; Birds, 1282, 1553; 951; Achar. 959. 28 STATE OF CULTURE ZZV GREECE. Chap. ever full of vitality; that the Athenian people, like a ' childish old man, was always the victim of the most impudent of his flatterers ; that the steady men of the older generation were just as punctilious about judicial proprieties as the estimable citizens were about their legal forms; and that the Spartan- aping young gentlemen were no less slovenly than the demagogues; l that the sovereign people, after Solon's constitution had been re-established, continued to manage house as wildly as before, and only wanted female government to complete the folly. 2 In his plays he even indulges in the arts of the dema- gogues and sycophants ; he slanders Socrates and many others quite as much as any rhetorician could have done, and to outbid the statesmen who squan- dered the public property in order to bribe the the people, he tells the citizens of Athens that if the distribution were fairly made 3 they ought to receive far more than they did. Even in religious and moral reforms he has only bad prospects to shew. He praises the ancient moral training, but he says at the same time with derision, that little morality is to be found amongst his hearers, 4 and the vices from which his people suffered appear to him on the whole very natural. 5 He brings women on the stage to lash their licentiousness; but he depicts this licentiousness as so deep and so general, that there could be no hope of improvement. He attacks 1 Wasps ; Birds, 38. 4 Clouds, 1055. 2 Eccles. v. 456 ; conf. Plato, 5 Compare Birds, 137 ; Frogs, Eep. viii. 563, B. 148. 3 Wasps, 655. ILLUSTRATED BY COMEDY. 29 the philosophers who deny the (rods, but in one of Chap. his first comedies he gives us to understand, that * belief rested in his time on trembling foundations, 1 and he exposes the Gods, together with their priests, with surpassing recklessness, not only in indivi- dual expressions, 2 but in whole acts and plays. 3 He brings them down with rough scorn, not only into the region of humanity, but into what is lowest and most common ; he holds up the moral weaknesses in which they resemble men nakedly and minutely to view ; he makes the world of Gods, like that of men, turn in such a wild whirlpool, that the spectator no less than the poet must lose all respect for the beings who are so readily and recklessly at the disposal of the imagination. We may attribute much of this to the license of comedy ; but still more than enough remains to convince us that the poet himself, as well as his audience, had gone far from the ancient morality, the loss of which he regrets ; and we see, on the whole, the period and the circum- stances out of which philosophy came forth, wherever we come in contact with them, penetrated by that spirit of novelty which made it impossible for the most decided lovers of antiquity to adhere to their ancestral mode of life and thought. Amongst other indications of this change, one C. Thepro- more circumstance deserves to be noticed, which b e ^ s e °^ appeared about the time of the Peloponnesian war forms of — the increasing spread of the mysteries, and of wo ^ip. 1 Knights, 32. 3 In the Frogs, Peace, and the 2 Clouds, 369, 396, 900, 1075; Birds. Birds, 556, 1608. 30 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. prophecies in connection with them. The reputed ' predictions of the older prophets had been already appealed to in exceptional cases, as is the wont of men ; but the mischief and abuse which was kept up in this way appears now to have reached an in- credible pitch. The Orphic and Corybantic mysteries would seem also to have been more widely diffused, and to have gained supporters about the same time, if we may judge by the numerous allusions to them in the writers of this and the following generation. In more than one aspect, however, an innovation was at the root of this. To a merely outward spectator, it was a very different thing, whether advice was sought from the public oracles and use was made of the ancient rites naturalised from time immemorial in fixed spots, or whether recourse was had to the professed utterances of individual prophets and to a private worship — a worship too without a fixed locality, carried about by vagrant priests, practised in particular confraternities, and claiming to elevate all who took part in it as the special elect above the mass of mankind. The predominance of this kind of private worship and irregular prophecy was partly a proof that the public religion was not altogether satisfactory, but in part it contributed to produce that very result. Such mystical piety was in itself very different from the customary forms of faith and life. The notions of the gods, by flowing into each other, began to lose their distinctness ; and perhaps the harmonising and pantheistic tendency already noticed in individuals in the fifth century may be ILL USTRA TED B Y NE W RELIGIO US IDEAS. 31 connected with it. The conceptions of human life Chap. and of human nature had assumed an altered cha- ., racter, owing to a clearer belief in immortality, which the dogmas of the migration of souls and of *■• future retribution had introduced ; and traces of this change may be seen in the poetry of the time of Euripides. Connected too with it was an ascetic code of morals which came into vogue, enjoining abstinence from animal food, celibacy, the avoidance of certain defilements, and the wearing of white clothing. Philosophy, it is true, could only appro- priate what was most general in this asceticism — the renunciation of the senses in a spiritual sense. It was not till a later time that the Neopythagoreans embraced the whole of it, with all its external belongings. But before that time arrived the spiritual life and the intellectual growth of Greece had another and a more brilliant career marked out for it. 32 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. CHAPTEE II. CHARACTER AND PROGRESS OF GREEK PHILOSOPHY IN THE FIFTH CENTURY. Chap. The age of Socrates inherited a rich treasure of '__ religious ideas, of moral principles, and scientific conceptions, but at the same time it was inferior to the age that had preceded it, in its modes of thought and in its moral practice. Traditional opinions seemed now to be all too narrow ; there were new lines of thought to be opened out, new problems to be solved. Mythical notions about the Gods and about the state after death, had lost all meaning for the great majority of the educated ; ] ancient customs had fallen into disuse; the regularity of civil life, the simplicity and purity of domestic life, had been supplanted by an utter recklessness of conduct, and by an unscrupulous pursuit of pleasure and profit. Principles subversive of all law and of all right, were being unhesitatingly avowed, and were wil- lingly acquiesced in by the younger generation. The strictness and grandeur of the early art, the lucid beauty, the classic softness, the self-contained dignity of the later art, was degenerating into the study of mere effect; while under the influence of sophistry, 1 Conf. Plato, Eep. i. 330, D. ILLUSTRATED BY PROGRESS OF PHILOSOPHY. 33 science had been brought into an utter disbelief, not Chap. only of individual systems, but of the very end ' assumed in previous enquiry, the possibility of knowledge at all. So far, however, from being exhausted, the spirit of Greece was only the more emerging into life amid these throes and struggles. Its mental horizon was being extended ; its powers of thought were being braced; its views and conceptions were being en- riched; its whole consciousness was gaining a new object, now that the nation had succeeded in glorious undertakings, and had distinguished itself by its military exploits. Even if the meridian of classic art and of free political life was past towards the close of the period, still the newly-awakened culture of the un- derstanding was full of promise for the future; since as yet sophistry had been destructive, not construc- tive, and instead of having completed, was only com- mencing its task. Some new and thorough change might surely be worked out, and was seemingly re- quired, both in the interest of morals and of science. When ordinary propriety of conduct and the tradi- tional views of science had once been overthrown by the altered spirit of the times, a return to the old point of view became impossible. But that men should despair on this account of all knowledge, and of all principles of morality, was an over-hasty con- clusion. For granting that the current view of science and morality was inadequate, it by no means followed, that all science, and all morality was im- possible. On the contrary, the more the pernicious D 34 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. consequences of such a view were brought to light, the more it w T as felt to be a duty to avoid them by a thorough transformation of the whole tone of feeling and thought, instead of making a useless attempt blindly to recall the past. A.Distinc- To a far-sighted eye the particular line to be tion of taken for the re-establishment of science was pointed bocratic < ^ L from 'pre- out w T ith special clearness by the experience of the phUosophy. P as *'' Traditional propriety of conduct had suc- (l) The leumbed before the spirit of innovation, because it pre-Socra- re sted upon instinct and custom, and not on any tic tradi- : r . . ' -, tional ; the clear knowledge of its necessity. To be replaced on Socratic a p ermanen t basis, propriety of conduct must rest resting on L L * •* knowledge, upon knowledge. Earlier philosophy had been un- able to satisfy the wants of the times because it had been directed exclusively to a study of nature; because it did not give an elementary education suffi- cient for practical life to the mass of men, nor to the thinking spirit any clue to the problem of its being and destiny. To supply this want a new philosophy was required — one which would direct its attention to the sphere of mind and morals, and w r ork into shape -the ample supply of ethical ideas stored up in poetry tknd underlying custom. The earlier systems had been exposed to sophistic doubts, because they were too one-sided in their foundations, and too materialistic in their conclusions to be able to stand against a searching criticism — such a criticism as that which destroyed their various one-sided aspects by means of each other, and argued from the change and uncertainty of all sensible appearances, that know- ILLUSTRATED BY PROGRESS OF PHILOSOPHY. 35 ledge was impossible. A lasting structure could not c ^ p - be established, unless the foundations were laid deeper, unless too some means could be found of supplementing these various views by each other, of harmonising them when contradictory in some higher point of union, and of detecting the un- changeable essence of things amidst changing ap- pearances. What was wanted was supplied by"* dialectic, or the art of forming conceptions, and the ** result of it was philosophical idealism. Thus the knowledge of the faults and deficiencies of the previous age naturally produced the turn taken by philosophy after Socrates. Scientific ethics became necessary because moral convictions had been shaken ; a wider enquiry became necessary, because of the onesidedness of the philosophy of nature ; a searching criticism was necessary, because dogmatic systems contradicted one another ; a philosophy of conception was necessary, because observations of the senses could not be relied on ; idealism was necessary, because a materialistic view of the world proved unsatisfactory. It is precisely in these traits that the Socratic (2) The philosophy differs from that of the previous period. ^' P Mo^' The pre-Socratic philosophy was simply and solely* S0 V h y a a philosophy of nature ; it was not until it reached na ture; the its period of transition in the sophists that it left Socratic • i • of concep- nature for ethical and dialectical questions. In iions. Socrates the dialectical tendency is supreme. He*> occupied himself almost exclusively in determining conceptions logically, and in enquiring into the nature of virtue. The imperfect Socratic schools D 2 36 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. were, with few exceptions, confined to a similar ' ground, and even in Plato's system this foundation of dialectic, and this structure of ethics formed a marked contrast to the previous study of nature. So, too, when Aristotle discusses physics in great detail and with unmistakeable predilection, they are, in point of value, only a single branch of a system subordinate to metaphysics. The increase of territory thus gained is in itself enough to show that the whole domain of philosophy was altered ; why else should thought have searched for other and more extended materials, were it not that it had been changed in itself, and become no longer content with those which had sufficed before ? For the same reason the philosophic method was a different one. In previous philosophy thought had been directed immediately to the object, as such. In B. Charm- the Socratic and post-Socratic systems it was directed this period immediately to the conception, and to the object is its doc- only mediately, through the conception. The older tri : \e oi C on- * systems enquired, without further examination, what ccptwns. predicates belonged to things ; for instance, whether being admitted of motion or not — how and out of what the world was made. The Socratic philosophy ever asks, in the first place, what things are in them- selves, according to the conception belonging to them, and thinks to explain their states and properties best when it has thoroughly mastered these conceptions. 1 The conception of a thing is only obtained, by ob- serving its various aspects and qualities, by uniting 1 Compare the clear statement he had busied himself in vain in the Phsedo, 99, .D. After with the enquiries of the physi- ILLUSTRATED BY PROGRESS OF PHILOSOPHY. 37 them, by harmonising apparent contradictions, by Chap. distinguishing what is lasting from what is changing, in a word, by that constructive criticism, which was i 1 ) Defini- ot i ii tion of a introduced by Socrates, and which was enlarged conception, by Plato and Aristotle. Former philosophers, start- ing from single prominent features, endeavoured by a one-sided view of things to determine what they were. Now all the properties of an object were taken into account and weighed from every side, before a judgment could be formed. Thus reflection, which substituted sophistry in place of the older philosophy, was welcomed by the new philosophy as a moving power ; the various aspects under which things might be regarded, were brought together and referred to each other ; but instead of stopping at the negative result, and allowing that our notions cannot be true because they contain opposite deter- minations, the aim of the new philosophy was to^ unite these opposites in one, and to show that true science is not affected by contradiction, because it only refers to that which unites opposites in itself, and is superior to all contradiction. This connection of knowledge and conceptions is the common pecu- * liarity of the Socratic, the Platonic, and the Aristotelian philosophy, nor do the lesser Socratic schools form any exception to it, as will be seen hereafter. cal philosophies, he declares him- (Tew iinxeip&v airreadai abroov). self convinced, that he is only e5o£e Zr] jxoi xPV^ ai - e *s tovs Koyovs involved in greater darkness by Karatol (Xkottcou being of things), i. e. instead of . . . fi\4iroov irphs tcc TTpdyfJ-ara irpdyfiara, \6yoi, instead of gvto., to?s 6fJLjj.aai kol eKcccrn? tCov aladi)- a\i}Q€ia rcou ovroov. 38 STATE OF CULTURE TN GREECE. Ckap. If conceptions, and conceptions alone, can give ' true knowledge, it follows that true being belongs only to that which is known by means of conceptions ; that is, to the essence of things, in so far as this essence is conceived in thought. This essential being must not, however, be sought for in matter. That matter could only be made into a world by means of spirit, had been shown by Anaxagoras ; and the old materialistic physics had been generally brought into discredit by the sophists. Nothing remained but to examine the form and purpose of things, to determine the conceptions belonging to them by making the immaterial part the most im- portant, and to assign to it a true reality underlying the appearance. In this way the Socratic philosophy led logically to idealism. (2) Theory Even in Socrates himself traces of this idealism of concep- tions may be seen. His indifference to physical enquiries expanded an( ^ j^ g preference for ethical ones prove satisfactorily Socrates, that he estimated the inner at a much higher value Arirtotie* than the outer world - We need onl y analyse the theory of final causes, which he applied to nature, into the metaphysical elements out of which it is composed, to see that according to his view it is not the material of which a thing is made, but the con- - ception which gives it shape, that makes everything what it is, and which accordingly represents its true nature. In the school of Megara this idealism comes out more plainly ; and in Plato it runs through all parts of his philosophy side by side with a current of pre-Socratic doctrines. Even Aristotle does not give ILL VSTRA TED BY PRO GRESS OF PHIL SOPHY. 39 up his adherence to this view. Although he denies the Chap. independent existence of the Platonic ideas, he still asserts that it is form and not matter that constitutes what is real, and that the highest reality belongs to spirit free from matter, On this ground his physics agree with those of his predecessors in making final higher than material causes, so that in comparison with the natural philosophers of the pre-Socratic period, Aristotle must really be called an Idealist. Thus, before the time of Socrates, philosophy started from the consideration of nature, and was chiefly occupied in enquiring into the nature and causes of external things, dealing mainly with their material properties. An entirely different character is displayed in the philosophy founded by Socrates. Instead of beginning by observing nature, it begins with observing ' self ' — with ethics instead of physics. - It aims at explaining appearances by conceptions first of all, and only in the second place by physics. It substitutes an attitude of enquiry for dogmatic statements, and idealism in the place of materialism. Spirit contrasted with nature, and the conception or the form contrasted with matter, are now seen to be of chief importance — the philosophy of nature has given w r ay to a philosophy of conceptions. In making philosophy deal exclusively with con- c. De- ceptions, it is, however, by no means granted that the t ^ ction . _ J & of Socratic human mmd is the measure of 'truth and the goal of from post- science. Far from having arrived at the subjective f^ tote ~ idealism of Fichte — an idealism which was only pos- philosophy. sible in modern times — the philosophy of this period 40 STATE OF CULTURE IN GREECE. Chap. is not even nearly so subjective as that of the post- ' Aristotelian schools, in which the interests of specu- lation were subordinated to those of morals. In those later schools knowledge was regarded only as a means to virtue and happiness, whereas the great philosophers of the present period fully recognised the independent value of science. To them know- ledge was an end in itself, the life of speculation was the highest and most blessed life, action was made to depend upon knowledge, not knowledge upon the aims of active life. The only exceptions to the rule are a few one-sided followers of Socrates, who, how- ever, prove nothing as to the general tendency, (l) It still Here, then, was a simple belief in the possibility lekeves the f k now l ec [ge, wanting in the post- Aristotelian school. attainment ^ 5 & r of know- The general doubts of the sophists were refuted, but possible 6 there was no need of grappling with them in the mind of the philosopher. The subject for enquiry was, how could true knowledge be obtained, in what kind of notions must it be sought, how must the con- ception of it be determined. There was no doubt that knowledge was really possible. The question as to a standard — the fundamental question of the later schools — was altogether alien l from the feelings of men at this time. They did not, as did the Epi- cureans and Stoics, cut short the question by saying a standard was possible ; they did not, as did the 1 Take for instance the ques- different to the doubt entertained tion raised in the Theagtetus, as in the enquiry after a standard, to the conception of knowledge, or as to whether knowledge is itno'T^fXT} #, ti 7tot€ rvyxdvei ov ; really possible at all. (Thesetet. 145, E.); it is quite ILLUSTRATED BY PROGRESS OF PHILOSOPHY. 41 Sceptics despair of knowledge ; they did not, as did Chap. the Neoplatonists, resort to higher revelations ; but ' they were content to place the source of truth in ^ rigid thought. Even physical science,, the inde- pendent pursuit of which was very much neglected by later writers, was studied in this period with success. Socrates and the great bulk of his followers may have neglected it, but Plato could not dispense with it, and Aristotle's labours in this branch of study set the subject at rest for nearly two thousand years. When the post-Aristotelian Ethics had, from various causes, at length broken loose from the old Greek morality, partly by a world-wide extension, partly by being separated from politics, partly, too, by the withdrawal of the moral consciousness from the outer world, and partly by a dumb resignation and a sour asceticism, then the difference between the past and the present might easily have been seen by recalling the many-sided sympathies of Socrates, with his cheerful enjoyment of life, and his devoted attachment to his country, or the teaching of Plato concerning the state, or that of Aristotle concerning virtue and society, or the relation of the Cyrenaic to the Epicurean view of happiness. It is true, attempts were made even in ethics, to {V ^ u ~ . 1 ' Unction in get beyond the bounds of custom. The propriety of Ethics. custom was supplemented by a theory of ethics, and a theory of conscious action. The difference between the outward deed and the intention, was made - clearer than in the ordinary view. Men were re- quired to rise above the life of the senses to what is 42 STATE OF CULTURE TX GREECE. Chap. II. (3) Its greater co7npre- hensive- ness. ideal. Lisrht was thrown on the meaning and mo- tives of moral consciousness. A universal human virtue was taught, which is not lost in activity on behalf of the state ; and accordingly the state was regarded as a means for realising virtue and happi- ness, nor was its welfare considered to be the ulti- mate end of moral action. But yet this period was far removed from the luxurious apathy of the Stoics, from the indifference of the Sceptics, from the asceticism of the Neoplatonists. It severed the moral activity of man from nature, but yet with Aristotle it rather looked upon virtue as the perfection of a natural gift, or with Plato it advanced to the love of what is morally beautiful from the love of what is sensibly beautiful. It required the philosopher to work for his fellowmen. It did not as yet embrace a world-wide society, nor did it shew indifference to nationality and political life. Even in this respect, it steered a middle course between a slavish surrender to the outer world, and a narrow withdrawal from it. Compared with the pre-Socratic era, the age of Socrates is characterised by the diversion of philosophy "from external nature to thought or to ideas. In the same way, compared with the following age, it is marked by the objective character of its thought, and by the fact that the thinker has not to do with him- self and the certainty of his own knowing, but with attaining to the knowledge of what is in itself real and true. Its theory of a knowledge of conceptions gives it a scientific character : — a theory from which its comprehensive view (reaching alike beyond the ILLUSTRATED BY PROGRESS OF PHILOSOPHY. 43 physical one-sidedness of the pre-Socratic, and the Chap. moral one-sidedness of the post-Aristotelian schools), ' its constructive criticism in opposition to the earlier and later dogmatism, and its idealism, transfiguring the whole aspect of the outer world, without, however, destroying it — all follow as necessary consequences. This theory was developed in a simple and natural P- Dwe- order by three philosophic schools, the founders of ^ which belong to three successive generations, and S° c ™ tiG ° . philoso- are personally connected as teachers and pupils. The irep ris 7tot€ /ecu &AA17 deia fxoipa avtipwircp KCU OTIOVU irpO(T€Ta^€ TTOltlV. 2 According to the well-known story in the Apol. 20, E., which has been repeated countless times by succeeding writers, the matter stands thus : Chserephon had asked at Delphi if there was a wiser man than Socrates, and the priestess had answered in the negative. Upon this, Socrates goes on to say, he had thought over the sense of the oracle, and in the hope of finding it, he had conversed with all who made pre- tensions to knowledge as to what they knew. The result was that he discovered, that neither he himself nor any other man was wise, but that others believed themselves to be wise, whilst he was conscious of his want of wisdom. He considered himself therefore pledged in the service of Apollo to a similar sifting of men, to save the honour of the oracle, which declared him, who was so wanting in wisdom, to be the wisest of men. Allowing that Socrates really said this — and there is no doubt that he uttered it in substance, it by no means follows from the story, that his philosophical activity dated from the Pythian oracle. Else how should Cbserephonhave come to put the question or the oracle to give its answer? If then he speaks in the Apology, as though the Delphic oracle had first aroused him to sift men, this must be an oratorical figure. Without being obliged to follow Colotes (in Plut. adv. Col. 17, 1), and Athenseus (v. 218) and many modern writers (Brucker, Hist. Phil. i. 534, Van Dalen and Heumann), in denying the his- torical character of the oracle al- together — which certainly cannot be very rigidly proved — we can attach no great importance to it. It may have done as good service to Socrates as his doctor's degree 56 SOCRATES. Chap. III. conviction first dawned on him, cannot be deter- mined. Meanwhile it is most probable that this conviction grew gradually, as he gained more know- ledge of his moral and intellectual position, and soon after the beginning of the Peloponnesian war he had found in the main his philosophical centre of gravity. 1 Henceforth he gave himself up to the mission he had assumed with perfect devotion. His means of support were extremely limited, and his domestic life, in company with Xanthippe, was by no means happy. 2 But he allowed himself to be disturbed in did to Luther, by assuring him of his inward call, but it made him just as little a philosophical reformer as the doctor's degree made Luther a religious reformer. The story of the oracle, given to his father when he was a boy (Plut. Gen. Socr. c. 20), is a fic- tion. 1 This is supported by the part which Aristophanes assigns to Socrates in the Clouds. If at that time, 424 B.C., he could be described as the chief of the new learning, this supposes, that he must have worked for years ac- cording to a definite method, and have gathered about him a circle of friends. In the Connus of Ameipsias, which seems to have been acted at the same time as the Clouds, he likewise appears as a well-known person, and Io in his travelling memorials had previously alluded to him, but Io died before 421 B.C. since Aris- tophanes (Peace, 835) mentions him as dead. 2 The name of Xanthippe is not only proverbial with us, but the later writers of antiquity — Seneca (De Const. 18, 5, Epist. 104, 17), Porphyry (in Theod. Cur. Gt. Aff. xii. 65) Diogenes (ii. 36), Plutarch (Coh. Ira, 13), who however tells the same of the wife of Pittacus, JElian (V. H. xi. 12), Athenseus (v. 219), Synesius, &c, tell so many little stories and disgraceful traits of her that one feels inclined to take up the cudgels in her behalf, as Heumann has actually done (Acta Phil. i. 103). WhatXenophon (Mem. ii. 2 ; Sym. 2, 10) and Plato (Phsedo, 60, A.) say of her, shows that she must have been not al- together badly disposed, but really solicitous about her family, though at the same time she was extremely violent, over-bearing, and hard to deal with. It is re- markable that Aristophanes in the Clouds says nothing of the married life of Socrates, which migiit have afforded him ma- terial for many a joke. Probably he was not then married. His HIS LIFE. 57 the work which he recognised to be the business of his life just as little by domestic cares, as he suffered Chap. III. eldest son is called twenty-five years later (Plato, Apol. 34, D., Phsedo, 60, A.) /xeipaKiovridr), and there are two other young chil- dren. Besides Xanthippe, So- crates is said to have had another wife, Myrto, a daughter or grand- daughter of Aristides, after Xan- thippe according to Aristotle (in Diog. ii. 26 ; less accurate is Plu- tarch's Aristid. 27), before her according to another view (also in Diog.), and at the same time with her according to Aristoxenus, Demetrius Phaler., Hieronymus Bhod., Satyrus, and Porphyry, so that he had two wives at once. The fallacy of the last view has been already exposed by Pansetius, (according to Plut.) and in modern times has been refuted by Luzac (Lectiones Atticse, Leyden, 1809), in a conclusive manner. Por not only is such a thing in- compatible with the character of Socrates, but amongst his co- temporaries, foes and friends, Xenophon, Plato, Aristophanes, and other comic poets, including Timon, there is no allusion to a relation, which would most undoubtedly have caused a great sensation had it existed, and have provoked attack and defence, and derision in the highest degree. The laws of Athens never allowed bigamy, and the decree purport- ing to be in favour of it, by which Hieronymus attempts to give probability to his story, either never was passed, or must bear a different meaning. The only question is, whether there can be any foundation for the story, and how its rise can be explained. Luzac supposes that Myrto was his first wife, and that he married Xanthippe after her death. But this is not probable. Por, in the first place, neither Xenophon nor Plato know anything about two wives of So- crates, although the Symposium would have invited some mention of them. In the second place, all the biographers (a few un- known ones in Diogenes excepted) assert that he married Myrto after Xanthippe, and that So- phroniscus and Menexenus were her children. Thirdly, Socrates cannot possibly have married the sister or the niece of Lysimachus, the son of Aristides, before the battle of Delium, since at the time of the battle (Lach. 180, D.) he did not know Lysimachus per- sonally. Xor can his first mar- riage have been contracted after that date, since Xanthippe's eld- est son was grown up at the time of his death. And lastly, in Plato's Thesetet. 150, E., shortly before his death, Socrates mentions this Aristides, as one of those who had withdrawn from his intellectual influence without detriment to his relation- ship as a kinsman. Thus the connection between Socrates and Myrto seems to be- long altogether to the region of fable. The most probable account of the origin of the story is the following. "We gather from the remains of the treatise irepi evye- peias, (Stob. Plor. 76, 24,25; 77, 13) the genuineness of which was doubted by Plutarch, and cer- tainly cannot be allowed, that 58 SOCRATES. Chap. III. his composure to be ruffled by his wife's fretfulness. 1 His own concerns were neglected lest he should omit anything in the service of Grod. 2 To be independent, he tried, like the Grods, to rise superior to his wants ; 3 and by carefully practising self-denial and abstemious- ness, 4 he was really able to boast that his life was more pleasant and more free from troubles than that of the rest of mankind. 5 Thus he was able to devote this dialogue was concerned with the question, whether nobility be- longed to those whose parents were rich, or to those whose parents were virtuous. Now none were more celebrated for their spotless virtue and their voluntary poverty than Aristides and Socrates. Ac- cordingly the writer brought the two into connection. Socrates was made to marry a daughter of Aristides, and since Xanthippe was known to be his wife, Myrto was made to be his second wife and the mother of his younger children. Others, however, re- membered, that Xanthippe sur- vived her husband. They thought it unlikely that Socrates should be the son-in-law of a man dead before he was born, and they tried to surmount these difficulties in various ways. As regards the first difficulty, either it was main- tained that Myrto was his second wife and that the younger chil- dren were hers, in which case it was necessary to place her side by side with Xanthippe, as Hier- onymus actually did, and in- vented a decree of the people to make it probable; or to avoid romance, this supposition was given up, and Myrto was made to be his first wife, who then can have borne him no children, since Lamprocles, his eldest son, according to Xenophon, was a child of Xanthippe. The second difficulty might be got over either by making Myrto a grand-daugh- ter instead of a daughter of Aris- tides, or by making her father to be Aristides, the grandson of Aris- tides the Just. Plato, Lach. 179, A. ; Theset., &c. The former is the usual one. The latter is the view of Athenseus. 1 See Xenophon. 2 Plato, Apol. 23, B.; 31, B. 3 Conf. Xen. Mem. i. 6, 1-10, where he tells Antiphon, that he is thoroughly happy in his mode of life, ending with the celebrated words : rb pei/ firjdevbs Beeadai, Qttov elvai, rb 8e cos i\a- x'kttwv iyyvrdrco rod 6eiov. 4 The contentment of Socrates, the simplicity of his life, his ab- stinence from sensual pleasures of every kind, his scanty clothing, his walking bare-foot, his en- durance of hunger and thirst, of heat and cold, of deprivations and hardships, is well known. Conf. Xen. Mem. i. 2, 1 ; i. 3, 5 ; i. 6, 2 ; Plato, Symp. 174, A., 219, B. ; Phsedrus, 229, A. ; Aristoph. Nubes, 103, 361, 409, 828. 5 Xen. Mem. i. 6, 4 ; iv. 8, 6. HIS LIFE. 59 1 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 5 ; i. 5, 6 i. 6, 3 ; Plato, Apol. 19, B. 31 B. ; 33, A.; Euthypro, 3, B. Sen. Benef. v. 6 ; Dio Chrys. Or. xiii. 30), and this is confirmed as far as the first-named individual Symp. 219, E. In the face of is concerned by Aristotle, Ehet. these distinct testimonies, the ii. 23. statement of Aristoxenus (Biog. 2 In the Crito, 52, B., he says, ii. 20) that from time to time he that except on military duty he collected money from his pupils, has only once left Athens, going- can only be regarded as a slander, as a deputy to the Isthmian games; It is possible that he did not al- and from the Phsedrus, 230, C, ways refuse the presents of well- we gather that he rarely went disposed friends — (Biog. ii. 74, outside the gates. 121, 34; Sen. de Benef. i. 8 ; 3 Plato, Apol. 31, C. vii. 24; Quintil. Inst, xii. 7, 9). 4 Plato, Apol. 31, D. ; Eep. vi. Questionable anecdotes (Biog. ii. 496, C. 24, 31, 65 ; Stob. Flor. 3, 61 ; 17, 5 Plato, Apol. 33, A., or as the 17) prove nothing against it, but Grorgias (473, E.) ironically ex- the authorities cannot be de- presses it: because he was too pended on. He is said to have plain for a statesman, refused the splendid offers of the 6 Plato, Apol. 29, B. ; 30, B. ; Macedonian Archelaus and the 33, C. Thessalian Scopas (Biog. ii. 25 ; III. his whole powers to the service of others, without Chap. asking or taking reward ; l and thus he became so engrossed by his labours for his native city, that he rarely passed its boundaries or even went outside its gates. 2 He did not, however, feel himself called upon to take part in the affairs of the state. 3 On the one hand he felt it to be impossible to maintain a cha- racter for statesmanship 4 in Athens, as it then was, without violating his principles ; besides which, sub- mission to the demands of a pampered mob was odious to him. 5 On the other hand, his own duty called him in another direction — that of influencing individuals. 6 Any one convinced as he was, that care for one's own culture must precede care for public business, and that a thorough knowledge of 60 SOCRATES. Chap. self, together with a deep amd many-sided experi- III. ence, was a necessary condition of public activity, 1 must have thought that, to educate individuals by influence, was the more pressing need, 2 and have held that he was doing his country a better service by educating able statesmen for it, than by actually discharging a statesman's duties. 3 Accordingly, Socrates never aimed at being anything but a private citizen. His duties to his country he discharged by serving in several campaigns with the greatest bravery and endurance. 4 As a citizen he boldly and fearlessly met the unrighteous demands alike of an infuriated populace and of tyrannical oligarchs, in every case of danger/ without ever being anxious to take part in the government of the commonwealth. Just as little was he desirous of being a public teacher like the Sophists. He not only took no pay, but he gave no methodical course. 6 He did not 1 Plato, Symp. 216, A.; Xen. battle of Delium, but probably Mem. iv. 2, 6 ; iii. 6. Plato is right, who shews himself 2 Conf. Gorg. 513, E. in general well informed on these 3 Xen. Mem. i. 6, 15. matters. The doubts which Athe- 4 See the stories in Plato, Symp. ngeus raises about Plato's account 219, E.; Apol. 28, E. ; Charm, i. ; are of no importance. Of course Lach. 181, A. Of the three expe- other accounts which have been ditions meutioned in the Apology, taken from it cannot be alleged that to Potidsea between 432 and in support of it. The story that 429 b. c, that to Delium, 424 B.C., Socrates rescued Xenophon at and that to Amphipolis, 422 B.C., Delium (Strabo, ix. 2, 7 ; Diog.) the two first are described with seems to confound Xenophon with details. At Potidaea Socrates Alcibiades. rescued Alcibiades, but gave up in 3 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 18, and 2,31; his favour his claim to the prize iv. 4, 2 ; Hellen. i. 7, 15 ; Plato, for valour. His fearless retreat Apol. 32, A. ; G-org. 473, E. ; from the battle of Delium is men- epist. Plat. vii. 324, D ; Grote's tioned with praise. Antisthenes Hist, of Greece, viii. 238-285. (in Athen.v. 216) refers the affair 6 Plato, Apol. 33, A: e-yw 5e of the prize to the time after the 5i5ao-/caAos fxej/ ovdevbs ttwttot HIS LIFE. 61 profess to teach, but to learn in common with others, Chap. • III not to force his convictions upon them, but to exa- ^ mine theirs ; not to pass the truth that came to hand like a coin fresh from the mint, but to stir up a desire for truth and virtue, to point out the way to it, to overthrow what was spurious, and to seek out real knowledge. 1 Never weary of talking, he was on the look out for every opportunity of giving an instructive and moral turn to the conversation. Day by day he was about in the market and public pro- menades, in schools and workshops, ever ready to converse with friends or strangers, with citizens and foreigners, but always prepared to lead them to higher subjects ; 2 and whilst thus in his higher calling serving Grod, he was persuaded that he was also serving his country in a way that no one else could do. 3 Deeply as he deplored the decline of discipline and education in his native city, 4 he felt that he could depend but little on the Sophists, 5 the moral teachers of his day. The attractive powers of his discourse won for him a circle of admirers, for the most part consisting of young men of family, 6 drawn to him by the most iyevojULTiit ' ci 5e ris fiov Xeyouros 2 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 10 ; iii. 10; Kalra ijnavrov irpdrroi'Tos i7n,dv/jL€? Plato, Symp., Lysis., Apol. 23, B. aKoviiv . . . ov$ev\ ttccttot icpQo- The /j.acrrpoireia "which Socrates vnva. Xen. Mem. i. 2, 3 and 31. boasts of, Xen. Symp. 3, 10; 4, The assertion of the Epicurean 56, is nothing else. For this art, Idomeneus, and of Favorin. in as it is there explained, consists Diog. ii. 20, that he gave instruc- in making his friends loveable, tion in rhetoric, needs no further by virtue and prudence, refutation. 3 Plato, Apol. 30, A.; Gorg. 1 Proofs in all the dialogues. 521, D. See particularly Plato, Apol. 21, 4 Xen. Mem. iii. 5, 13. B. ; 23, B. ; Eep. i. 336, B. The 5 Mem. iv. 4, 5. Socratic method will be discussed ■ 6 Plato, Apol. 23, C. later. 1 62 SOCRATES. Chap. varied motives, standing to him in various relations, III . ' and coming to him, some for a longer, others for a shorter time. 1 For his own part, he made it his business not only to educate these friends, but to advise them in everything, even in worldly matters. 2 But out of this changing, and in part loosely con- nected, society, a nucleus was gradually formed of de- cided admirers, — a Socratic school, which we must consider united far less by a common set of doctrines, than by a common love for the person of Socrates. With more intimate friends he frequently had meals 3 in common, which, however, can scarcely have been a fixed institution. Some few who appeared to him to need other instruction, or who did not seem to profit by his conversation, he urged to go to other teachers, either in addition to, or instead of himself. 4 He continued to pursue this course with his powers of mind unimpaired 5 till his seventieth year. The blow which then put an end to his life and his activity, will be mentioned hereafter. 1 Conf. Xen. Mem. i. 2, 14; represent Socrates as an old man, iy. 2, iO ; Plato, Theset. 150, D. (as he was when they knew him) 2 Conf. examples, Mem. ii. 3, 7, without showing any trace of 8, 9 ; iii. 6, 7. weakness in his mental powers 3 Xen. Mem. iii. 14. up to the last moment. See also 4 Plato. Thesetet. 151, B. ; Xen. the definite statement in Mem. iv. Mem. iii. 1. 8,8. 5 Xenophon and Plato mostly HIS CHARACTER. 63 CHAPTEE IV. THE CHAKACTER OF SOCRATES. Antiquity speaks of the character of Socrates with Chap. the greatest esteem. There are, however, a few Iy> exceptions, and the prejudices occasioned by his A. The condemnation, no doubt survived some time after his ^Uweha- death. The followers of Epicurus indulged their mcter °f , Socrates. love of slander even at his expense, 1 and one voice from the Peripatetic School utters scandalous tales about his life. As a boy he was said to have been disobedient and refractory ; as a youth, profligate ; as a man, coarse, importunate, given to sudden bursts of anger, and of fiery passions. 2 But the statements we have of this kind are so improbable, and the 1 Cicero de N. D. i. 34, says (Enc. Calv. 81) will have this that his teacher, the Epicurean limited to his younger years; that Zeno, called him an Attic buf- of Cyril, c. Jul. vi. 185, C. : ot€ foon. Epicurus, however, ac- 8e (pKexOeiv virb rod irddovs rov- cording to Diog. x. 8, appears to tov fizivyv elvai Ti\v acrxn^uvv-nv • have spared him, although he de- ovBevbs yap ovre bvofxaros airo- preciated every other philosopher. GxkvQai ovre irpdy^aros ; and ano- 2 The source from which these ther of Cyril. (180, C.) that unfavourable reports come is Aris- Socrates was in other ways tem- toxenus. Erom this writer come perate, irpbs 5e ttiv t&v acppoSiaiow the following statements ; that XP^^ vtyoSporepov /xhu ehai, aSt- mentioned in Porphyry : ws (pvati Kiav 8e fify irpocreivai, t) yap reus yeyovos rpaxvs ets bpyi\v, kcCi ottotc yayarais 77 rats kolvcus xprV0c» Kparridtiri too iraQsi dia Trdarjs fxovais, and then after the history ao'x^oo'vj'Tjs ifiddi&v — Synesius of his bigamy he concludes: efoai 64 SOCRATES. Chap. IV. chief witness is so untrustworthy/ that we cannot even infer with certainty, 2 that it cost Socrates a severe struggle to "become what he was in after life. 3 8e rbu irpbs ovdev fjikv ii£«/*e0a. tj/juu oi TrcuSes yuKpais kvAl^l ttvkvcl 3 Symp. 176, C. ; 220, A. ; 213, iirvtyeKafaaiv, ourtas ov $ia£6p.evoi E. xnrb rovou'ov yedveiv, a\K avairet,- 4 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 1 ; 3, 14. F 2 68 SOCRATES. Chap. IV. rous passages in Xenophon's ' Memorabilia ' J prove that his morality was far below our standard of rigid adherence to principles. The Grecian peculiarity of a love for boys marks his relations to youth, but his character is above all susnicion of actual vice, 2 as is shown by the irony with which he treats a supposed love-affair of his own. 3 At the same time, what Greek in the presence of youthful beauty was proof against a certain element of aesthetic pleasure, which if it was the ground and origin, was at any rate an in- nocent one in his case, of deeper affection ? 4 The odious excrescences of Greek morality called forth his severest censure, but at the same time, according to Xenophon, 6 and iEschines, 6 and Plato, 7 Socrates designated his own relations to his younger friends We have already seen that Aris- toxenus and his followers cannot make the contrary probable. 1 i. 3, 14 ; ii. 1, 5 ; 2, 4 ; iii. 11; iv. 5, 9. 2 The cotenrporaries of Socrates seem to have found nothing to object to in his love of boys. Not only is there no allusion to it in the judicial charge, but not even in Aristophanes, who would undoubtedly have magnified the smallest suspicion into the grav- est charge. The other comic poets, according to Athen., v. 219, seem to have known nothing of it. Just as little does Xenophon think it necessary to refute this calumny, and therefore the well- known story of Plato's banquet has for its object far more the glorification than the justification of his teacher. On the other hand, the relations of Socrates to Alcibiades, in the verses purpor- ting to be written by Aspasia, which Athena?us communicates on the authority of Herodicus, have a very suspicious look, and Juvenal (Sat. ii. 10) does not hesitate to charge Socrates with the reigning dissoluteness of manners. 3 Xen. Mem. iv. 1, 2; Svmp. 4, 27; Plato, Symp. 213," C; 216, D.: 222, B. 4 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 29 ; 3, 8 ; Sym. 8, 19. 5 Symp. 8, 2 and 24 ; Mem. iv. 1, 2. 6 In his Alcibiades he speaks of the love of Socrates for Alci- biades. See Arist. Or. xlv. irepl pr]TOpiK7]S. 7 Prot. beginning; Symp. 177, D.; 218, B.; 222, A.; not to men- tion other expressions for which Plato is answerable. HIS CHARACTER. m by the name of Eros, or a passionate attachment Chap. grounded on sesthetic feeling. Not otherwise may '__ Grecian peculiarities be observed in his ethical or political viewSj while his theology is confined by the trammels of the popular belief. How deeply these peculiarities had influenced his character, may be seen not only in his simple obedience ! to the laws of his country throughout life, and his genuine respect for the state religion, 2 but far more also in the trials of his last days, when for fear of violating the laws, he scorned the ordinary practices of defence, and after his condemnation refused to escape from prison. 3 Truly the epitaph which Simonides inscribed on the tomb of Leonidas might be inscribed on that of Socrates : He died to obey the state. 4 But fully as Socrates was imbued with all the C. Pro- minent peculiarities of a Greek, there is a something in tra i ts 1 Plato, Apol. 28, E. 2 Xenophon, Mem. i. 1, 2, as- sures us not only that Socrates took part in the public sacrifices, but that he was frequently in the habit of sacrificing at home. In Plato he invokes Helios, Symp. 220, D. ; and his last words, ac- cording to the Phsedo, 118, A., were an earnest commission to Crito to offer a cock to iEscula- pius. A belief in oracles is also very frequently mentioned, which he always obeved conscientiously (Mem. i. 3, 4 ; Plato, Apol. 21, B.) and the use of which he recom- mended to his friends (Xen. Mem. ii. 6, 8; iv. 7, 10; Anabas. iii. 1,5). He was himself fully per- suaded that he possessed an oracle in the truest sense, in the inward voice of his Zaiix6viov, and he also believed in dreams and similar prognostications. (Plato, Crito, 44, A. ; Phsedo, 60, D. ; Apol. 33, C.) 3 This motive is represented by Xenophon (Mem. iv. 4, 4), and Plato (Apol. 34, D.; Phsedo, 98, C.) as the decisive one, although the Crito makes it appear that a flight from Athens would have done no good to himself, and much harm to his friends and dependants. The Apology speaks as if entreating the judges were unworthy of the speaker and his country. 4 Xen. says : irpodXero fiaWov ro7s vojxols i/j.{x€j/ccp anodavelu fy Trapavo/JLuy Qfjv. 70 SOCRATES. Chap. his appearance which is decidedly unlike a Greek, ' nay, which has even a foreign and almost modern his cha- aspect. This it was which made him appear to his cotemporaries a thoroughly eccentric and singular person. This something, which they described by one word as his singularity, 1 consisted, according to Plato's account, 2 in what any Greek would have found difficulty in understanding — a want of agree- ment between his outward appearance and his in- ward and real nature. In this respect he presents a striking contrast to the usual classic type, which consists in a harmonious union of the outer and the inner world. On the one hand we behold Socrates indifferent to the outer worl$, and thus entirely unlike his countrymen; on the other hand, deeply sunk in meditation — a feature unknown before — sometimes even so deeply as to lose the conscious- ness of his own personality. Owing to the former, there is a something stiff and awkward about him, sharply contrasting with the graceful sweetness and the artistic beauty of life in Greece — we might almost call him a Philistine — and the other shows itself in a way that looks like the working of a higher revelation, having its seat within in the recesses of the soul, in which light it was regarded by Socrates himself. In their account of these two peculiarities both Plato and Xenophon are agreed. 1 Plato, Symp. 221, C. : UoWa fxdros .... olos 5e ourocrl yeyove fxkv olv &v ris Kal &A\a %X 0L r ^ v UTOwiav izvOpwiros koX avrbs ^coKparrj iiraipeo-cu Kal dav/j-daia Kal ol A6yoi avrov ou5 5 eyyvs av . . . . rb 5e /mrj^evl avOpdwcav oiaolov evpoi ris Qr)roov, ovre twv vvy ovre slvai, fiif}T€ reap iraXaioov /xrjTe twv t6l>v ira\ai<2v. vvv ovtqw, tovto tyov iravrbs dav- 2 Symp. 215, A. ; 221, E. HIS CHARACTER. 71 Even the outward appearance of Socrates, which c i^ p - Alcibiades in Plato, 1 and Socrates himself in Xeno- phon 2 compares with so much humour to Silenus, must to the eye of the Greek have seemed rather like a veil to conceal, than an instrument to express the presence of genius. A certain amount of intel- lectual stiffness, and an indifference to what was sensibly beautiful also expressed itself in his conduct and conversation. Take for instance the process of catechising given in the ' Memorabilia,' 3 by which Hipparchus is brought to a knowledge of his duties, or the formality with which things, 4 long familiar to his hearers, are proved, or again the way in which the idea of the beautiful is reduced to that of the useful. 5 Or hear him advising conduct, which to us seems simply abominable, 6 on grounds of expediency, or in the Phaedrus 7 refusing to walk out because he can learn nothing from trees and the country. Or see him according to Xenophon's account of the banquet, 8 in opposition to the universal custom of the ancients, dancing alone and at home, 9 in order to gain health- 1 Symp. 215; Conf. Theaet. 14,3, a\\a \xivToi aoi ye &e? x a p' L ( e(r 9 a h E. c6<7T€ kav oKiyov e% fie K€\evois 2 Symp. 4, 19; 2, 19;Epicte- airodvvra opxvcroLffOai, xapuraifjurij/ tus (Diss. iv. 11, 19) gives &>; and Cicero pro Mur. 6 : Ne- Socrates a pleasing appearance, mo fere saltat sobrius, nis but this is of course quite unte- forte insanit; De Offic. lii. 19 nable. Dares hanc vim M. Crasso, in 3 iii. 3. foro, mihi crede, saltaret; also 4 iii. 10, 9; iii. 11. the expressions in Xenophon: s O/> 5 iii. 8, 4. xh (T0 } Ji0LL "4 Am. 'Euravda Br] iyi- 6 i. 3, 14. Xaaav awavres. And when Char- 7 230, D. mides found Socrates dancing : rb 8 2, 17. fievyeirpooTov 4£€ir\dyrivKa\%deio , a, 9 Compare Menexenus, 236, C. : ^7] fxaivoio, k. t. X. 72 SOCRATES. Chap. IV. D. His peculiar mental pheno- mena. ful exercise, and justifying his conduct by curious reflections ; even at table l unable to forget con- siderations of utility. Taking these and similar traits into account, there appears in the conduct of Socrates a certain want of imagination, a one-sided prominence of the critical and intellectual faculties, in short a want of taste which clashes with the poetry of Grecian life, and the delicate refinement of an Athenian. Even Alcibiades 2 allows, in Plato, that the discourses of Socrates appear ridiculous and rude at first sight, since they always concern beasts of burden, smiths, tailors, and tanners. Was not this the very objection raised by Xenophon? 3 How strange that plain unadorned common sense must have appeared to his cotemporaries with its shrinking from all set modes of speech, forms, and its simple use of plain and intelligible expressions ! It was not however produced by any lack of taste. On the contrary, it resulted from the profound origin- ality of his ideas, for which customary expressions were insufficient. The soul of the philosopher diving into its own recesses was sometimes so far absent as to be insensible to external impressions, and at other times poured forth enigmatical utterances, which appeared strange to it in a wakeful state. It not 1 Xen. Svmp. 3, 2. 2 Symp. 221, E. 3 Mem. i. 2, 37 : 'O 5e Kpirias ' aWa twv 5e rol o"e a7re'xecr0cu, ecpr], KOLl T&U TZKTOVCdV KO.X T&V X a ^ K€WI/ > not yap officii avrovs tJBtj itara- TerplcpQai dia8pv\ovfi4uovs virb gov. Again in iv. 4, 6 : koX 6 fiev 'Imrias ' in yap nv, ecpr), & 'SvKpa- res, 6Ke?va ra avra Keyeis, a £yu ird\ai irore crov i]Kovaa. The same complaint and the same answer is met with in Plato's G-orgias, 490, E. HIS CHARACTER. 73 unfrequently happened to Socrates with his serious- Chap. ness and love of meditation, 1 that his thoughts wan- '_ dered and remained for a longer or shorter time absent and indifferent to the outer world. 2 But as he watched with careful eye all that transpired within, endeavouring to let nothing escape him, he dis- covered a residuum of feelings and impulses, which could not be explained from what he knew of his own inner life. This he regarded in the light of a divine revelation, and believed that he enjoyed it in that particular form which goes by the name of the { Dasmonium. He was, therefore, not only convinced that he stood and acted in the service of Grod in general, but he also held that special supernatural suggestions were communicated to him. It was a common thing even among the ancients 0) False . t ... ,. ,-. i ,. r. news about to regard these suggestions as the revelations of a t ^ $ at _ special and personal genius, 3 and in modern times ^ vl0V - 1 Accordingly in the Aristo- scriptions of Xenophon and Plato, telian problems, xxx. 1, he is since it does not recur for some reckoned amongst the melan- time, even in spurious works at- choly, which is not at variance tributed to them. Even Cicero, with the gentle obstinacy (rb Divin. i. 54, 122, does not trans- (Tr6.(Ti^ov) which Aristotle (Ehet. late dai^oviou by genius, but by ii. 15) assigns to him. 'divinum quoddam,' and doubt- 2 Plato, Symp. 174, D. ; 220, C. less Antipater, whose work he was According to the latter passage, quoting, took it in the same sense. Socrates was once twenty-four But in Christian times the belief hours in this state, and remained in a genius became universal, the whole time in one spot. because it fell in with the current 3 The bill of accusation against belief in daemons. Por instance, Socrates seems to have understood Plut. De Cenio Socratis, c. 20 ; the dai/jioviov in this sense, since Max. Tyr. xiv. 3 ; Apuleius, De it charges him with introducing Deo Socrates, the Neoplatonists, erepa Kaiva daifiovia in the place and the Fathers, who are how- of the gods of the state. After- ever not agreed whether his genius wards this view appears to have was a good one or a bad one. been dropped, thanks to the de- Plutarch, however, and after him 74 SOCRATES. Chap. this view for a long time continued to hold its IV ' ground. 1 No doubt it was a sad thing in the eyes of enlightened admirers, that a man so sensible as Socrates, should have laboured under a fanatical delusion; nor were attempts wanting to excuse him, either on the ground of the universal superstition of his age and nation, or because he was believed to have a physical tendency to fanaticism. 2 Some even ventured to assert that his claim to supernatural revelations was a piece of shrewd calculation, 3 or that it was one form of his celebrated irony. 4 But how can the last-named view be reconciled with the language which, on the testimony of both Plato and Xenophon, he used of the suggestions of the Daenio- nium, or with the value which he attaches to these suggestions on the most important occasions ? 5 And to refer the Daemonium to the irritability of a sickly body, cannot fall far short of asserting that it is Apuleius, mention the view that their' melancholy temperament. by the fiaiixoviov must be under- The personality of the daemon is stood the power of vague appre- not however called in question hension, by means of which he by him or by his supporters, could guess the future from pro- Modern writers took refuge in gnostications or natural signs. the same hypothesis in order 1 Compare Tiedemann, Geist to explain in Socrates the possi- der spekulat. Philosophic, ii. 16 ; bility of a superstitious belief in Meiners, Ueber den Grenius des a Saifioviov. For instance, Tiede- Sokr. (Verm. Schriften, iii. 1) ; mann, Meiners, Schwarze, Krug. Buhle, Krug, &c. 3 Plessing, Osiris and So- 2 The first-named excuse is a crates, 185. very common one. Marsilius Fi- 4 Fraguier, Sur l'ironie de So- cinus ( Theol. Platon. xiii. 2) crate, in the Memoires de 1'Aca- assumed in Socrates, as well as demie des Inscriptions, iv. 368. in other philosophers, a peculiar Also Eollin in his Histoire an- bodily disposition for ecstasy, cienne, ix. 4, 2 ; and Barthelemy, when he refers their susceptibility Voyage du jeune Anacharsis. for supernatural revelations to 3 Xen. Mem. iv. 8, 4. HIS CHARACTER. 75 identical with the monomania of a diseased mind, and reduces the great reformer of philosophy to the level of a madman. 1 But all these explanations can be dispensed with, now that Schleiermacher, 2 with the general approbation of the most competent judges, 3 has established it as a fact, that by the Dsemonium in the sense of Socrates, no genius, no separate and distinct person, can be understood, but only some supernatural voice or divine revelation in general. No passage in Plato or Xenophon speaks of Socrates holding intercourse with a genius. 4 We only hear of divine or supernatural signs, 5 of a voice heard by Socrates, 6 of some supernatural guidance, by which many warnings were vouchsafed to him. 7 All that 1 Many have spoken of the superstition and fanaticism of So- crates in a more modest way, but comparatively recently Lelut has boldly asserted, ' que Socrate etait un fou ' — a category, in which he places amongst others not only Cardan and Swedenborg, but Luther, Pascal and Rousseau. His chief argument is the state- ment that Socrates not only be- lieved in a real and personal genius, but believed that in his hallucinations he audibly heard its voice. Those who rightly under- stand Plato, and can distinguish what is genuine from what is false, will not need a refutation of these untruths. 2 Platon's Werke, i. 2, 432. 3 Brandis, Bitter, Hermann, Socher, Cousin, Kresche. Com- pare Hegel and Ast. 4 The passage Mem. i. 4, 14 : orau ol deol ■n^fx-nuKTiv, uxrvep o~o\ v adrjXcou re xph voielv kol a ^7). In Plato oircas "hv airo^aoiro /uavTevo-Ofie- HIS CHARACTER. 77 and as such it is by Xenophon l and Plato 2 included Chap. under the more general notion of divination, and ' placed on a par with divination by sacrifice and the flight of birds. In attempting to bring this inward revelation of Socrates into harmony with the facts of psychology, it may be laid down in the first place that the Dsemo- nium must not be confounded with the voice of consci- ence, as many ancient and modern critics have done. 3 ( c ) It is Conscience always refers to the moral character of not COll ~ J science. an action, partly by laying down a law and thus de- termining the universal moral standard, and partly by sitting in judgment and acting as a regulating power, when past or possible actions are arraigned before its tribunal. The Saifioviov has nothing to do with the universal moral standard — which, according to Socrates, is a matter for pure intelligence to deter- mine — still less has it to do with the moral quality of an action already past. Even actions in prospect, which alone are the subject of its warnings, it does not vovs eirefxirev el rroLrjrea — t€kto- to the Socratic fiavriKT] or the viKov fxev yap r) x^A/ceim/fbi/ rj ye- haiixoviov. Conf. ALeni. iv. 3, 12, oipyiKov r) avdpanrccv apxiicbv r) rwv where the remark that the Gods tolovtuu epyoov i^eracrriKhv r) \o- announce to Socrates beforehand yHTTutbv r) oiKouofxiKhv rj crrparri- what he 'ought to do, is satisfac- yitcbv yevecdai. irdvra ra roiavra torily explained by the words fj.a9rjfj.ara /cat avdpcvirov yvcotxr) at- that precede : 81a, fxavr iK.r)s rols perea ev6/j.i(ev elvai ■ ra de fxiyicrra irvvQavofievois (ppd(ovras ra airofSrj- r(av iv rovrois ecpr) robs Oeovs eav- aofxeva, KaldiBdcrKovrasfj av aptcrra ro7s KaraXe'nreadaL. The future yiyvoiro. "Kpiarov here is what outward result of an action is is most useful, however what is greatest. And * Xen. Mem, i. 1, 3 ; iv. 3, 12 ; then he continues: Sai/jLovav 5e i. 4, 14. robs fj.avrevofj.4i/ovs, a ru?s avQpw- 2 Apol. 40, A. ; Phsed. 242, C. : ttois eSamav 01 deol fiaQovo-L 5ta- Euthyphro 3, B. Kpiveiv, &c. "What is here said 3 Stapfer, Brandis, Botscher, of fxavTiKT} in general applies also 3Iarbach. 78 SOCRATES. Chap. IV. (d) Not a general conviction of his divine 'mission. deal with according to their moral worth, but solely according to their results — results concealed from us and locked up in the divine foreknowledge — and for these Socrates either has recourse to /jlclvtlkt) in general, or to his Scll/jlovlcv, leaving moral conduct to be determined by clear knowledge. In Xenophon he is heard to say that it is absurd to consult the Gods about things which may be known by delibera- tion ; and we might have inferred that deliberation would be the condition of morality in his system, even if there were less explicit statements to guide us, from the fact that he makes virtue consist in knowledge. 1 Just as little must the divine voice of Socrates be confounded with a general belief in his own divine mission : 2 for it is only occasionally that actions are referred to the former. Thus in particular cases it dissuades Socrates from receiving back into his society 3 friends who have once deserted him; but when the general question is asked : What led Socrates to the study of philosophy, the answer is not given by reference to the Daemonium, but to the leading of providence, 4 which in various ways has impressed on him this duty. 5 The Daemonium only influenced the mission of his life in one, and that a very indirect way, by restraining him from inter- meddling with politics, and thus proving faithless to his philosophic bent. 6 In addition to this, Plato's 1 Socrates enumerates among the things which are in the power of man, avdpca-rrwv apx^bu yevecrdaL. — 3Iem. i. 1, 7; iii. 9, 14. 2 As both Kleiners and Lelnt have done. 3 Theatfet. 151. A. 4 Plato, Apol. 23, B. ; 28 B. ; Theastet. 150, C. 5 Plato, Apol. 33. C. 6 Plato. Rep. vi. 496, B. ; Apol. 31. C. HIS CHARACTER. \ remark that the Daemonium never urged him on, but Chap. . IV only kept him back, refutes the notion of a general '_ guiding influence. On the whole then the psycho- logical explanation of the phenomenon will be found to be the same as that given by most modern writers. The Daemonium is a vague apprehension of some good or ill result following on certain actions. It is, as it were, an inward voice coming from his own individual tact, 1 which as a boy Socrates had carefully cultivated. 2 It attained an unusual degree of accuracy in his case 3 — partly owing to subsequent experience and a keen susceptibility, partly from a knowledge of himself and his own needs ; and in default of a better psychological knowledge which could explain it, it presented itself to him in a form agreeing with the spirit of his times, 4 that of an immediate divine revelation. But common as is the notion of a supernatural revelation, the particular form in which it was held by Socrates is thoroughly characteristic. Hegel 1 Hermann,Platonisnius,i.236. except by a plain statement of 2 We are compelled to include the truth. To him it appeared this amongst the peculiarities of as if Grod had revealed to him the 8ai/j.6viou, partly because of that it was better not to make the remark already quoted from any preparation. the Thesetet. 151, A., and partly 3 All the more accurate state- because of the notices (Xen. ments given by Xenophon (Mem. Mem. iv. 8, 5; Apol. 4), that iv. 8, 5) and Plato (Apol. 31, Socrates was prevented by the D. ; 40, A. ; Thegetet. 151, A. ; Scu/jloploi/ from defending himself Ph?edrus, 242, B.) about the sug- before the court. The real reason gestions of the Bai/j.6viov agree which deterred him was that to with this. The later love of the busy himself with his own fate marvellous led to all sorts of was opposed to his philosophical romantic stories about it, as even character, and that it was against Cicero, Divin. i. 54, proves, his nature, to defend himself 4 Krische, Porschung. 231. 80 SOCRATES. Chap. appropriately remarks l that in the Dsemonium of • Socrates may be seen the beginnings of that gradual change of opinion from the time when external agencies were regarded as determining the will — as was the case in the Greek oracles — to the time when the power of origination is felt solely to belong to ourselves. Thus, by substituting the immediate utter- ances of his inner life in place of the usual signs and oracular appeals, Socrates brought within the province of the mind, what had hitherto ruled it from without. At the same time this forward step was not altogether without a compensating drawback. The mind when first disenthralled and placed in a position to exercise it own freedom, could not at once trust its own decisions in every case, but allowed any indefinite impulses which claimed to be divine revelations to prevail against the dictates of its own intelligence. The Dsemonium of Socrates was not therefore So- crates himself, but a kind of oracle ; his mind, but his mind only half conscious of itself. 2 This brings out the importance of the phenome- non. It reveals the inner life of Socrates down to its inmost depths, but it proves also that it was as yet impossible for the whole of life to be regulated according to the dictates of an intelligent will. Illustrations of this have been already noticed in those instances of absence of mind in Socrates, and they may also be observed in the stiffness and awkwardness of his demeanour. It can thus be 1 Kechts philosophic, § 279. 2 Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 77. HIS CHARACTER. 81 understood, that features apparently so different, as Chap. the sober sense of the man of intellect and the ' fanaticism of the man of feeling could be combined in one and the same person, for both were due to one and the same cause. Depth of inward concen- tration distinguished Socrates from his contem- poraries, and made him appear so singular to his countrymen. It also made an irreparable breach in the artistic unity of Greek life. The gradual widening of that breach, and the shape it assumed in the philosophy of Socrates, will occupy our attention hereafter, when we come to consider his philosophical system. 82 SOCIIATES. CHAPTER V. THE SOURCES AND CHARACTERISTICS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCRATES. Chap. There is considerable difficulty in arriving at an y - accurate view of the philosophy of Socrates, owing A. Xeno- to the discrepancies in the accounts of the original Vlato nCl authorities. Socrates himself committed nothing to writing, 1 and there are only the works of two of his pupils, Xenophon and Plato, preserved, in which he is made to speak in his own person. 2 But the accounts of these two writers are so little alike, that we gather from the one quite a different view of the teaching of Socrates to what the other gives us. It was the fashion among early historians of philoso- phy to construct a picture of the Athenian philoso- pher, without any principles of criticism to guide them, from the writings of Xenophon and Plato indiscriminately, as well as from later, and for the 1 The unimportant poetical that Socrates committed nothing attempts of his last days (Plato, to writing is clear from the silence Pha?do, 60, C.) could hardly be of Xenophon, Plato, and all an- taken into account, even if they tiquity on the point, not to mention were extant. They appear, how- the positive testimony of Cic. de ever, to have been very soon lost. Orat. iii. 16, 60; I)iog. i. 16; See Diog. ii. 42. The genuine- Plut. De Alex. Yirt. i. 4. ness of the Socratic letters need 2 For instance, those of JEs- not occupy us for a moment, and chines, Antisthenes, Phaedo. AUTHORITIES FOR HIS PHILOSOPHY. ] 83 most part untrustworthy authorities. Since the time Chap. of Brueker, however, it became the custom to look ' to Xenophon as the only authority to be perfectly trusted on the philosophy of Socrates, and to allow to others, Plato included, at most only a supple- mentary value. Quite recently, however, Schleier- macher has lodged a protest against the preference shown for Xenophon. 1 Xenophon, he argues, not being a philosopher himself, was scarcely capable of understanding a philosopher like Socrates ; the object, moreover, of the Memorabilia was only a limited one, to defend his teacher from definite charges ; we are therefore justified in assuming a priori that there must have been more in Socrates than Xenophon allows, or else he could not have played so important a part in the history of philosophy, nor have exerted so marvellous a power of attraction on the most intellectual and cultivated men of his time. The character too which is given him by Plato, would have otherwise been a manifest contradiction of the picture presented by him to the mind of his reader. Besides, Xenophon's dialogues create the impres- sion, that philosophic matter has been put into the unphilosophic language of every-day life, with de- triment to its full and proper meaning ; and there are gaps left in his account which we must look to Plato to fill up. We can hardly, however, adopt the view of Meiners, 2 that only those parts of the 1 On the philosophical merits of 2 Geschichte cler Wissen- Socrates, Schleiermachei% Works, schaften in Griechenland und iii. 2, 293. Bora, ii. 420. g 2 V. 84 SOCRATES. Chap. dialogues of Plato may be considered historical, which are either to be found in Xenophon, or imme- diately follow from what Xenophon says, or which are opposed to Plato's own views. This hypothesis would only give us the Socrates of Xenophon slightly modified, whilst the deeper spring of Socratic thought would still be wanting. The only safe course is adopted by Schleiermacher, who asks : What may Socrates have been, in addition to what Xenophon says he was, without denying the character and maxims which Xenophon distinctly assigns to him ? and what must he have been to call for and to justify such a description as is given of him in the dia- logues of Plato ? Several other writers have since acquiesced in Schleiermacher's estimate of Xeno- phon, 1 and even before Schleiermacher, Dissen 2 had expressed his inability to see in the pages of Xeno- phon anything but a description of the outward ap- pearance of Socrates. The same approval has been bestowed on Schleiermacher's canon forfinding out the real Socrates, and only when it failed has an addition been made, 3 that the expressions of Aristotle may be used as a touchstone to discover the teaching of Socrates. On the other hand Xenophon s authority has been warmly supported by several critics. 4 In deciding between these two views a difficulty, however, presents itself. The authority of the one or the other of our accounts can only be ascertained by 1 Brandis, Bitter, Van Heusde. 4 Hegel, G-esch. d. Phil. ii. 69 ; 2 De philosophia morali. Rotscher, Herrman, &e. 3 By Brandis. AUTHORITIES FOR HIS PHILOSOPHY. 85 a comparison with the true historical picture, and Ghap. the true historical picture can only be known from _______ these conflicting accounts. This difficulty would be insurmountable, if the two narratives had the same claim to be considered historical in points which they state varyingly ; nor would Aristotle's scanty notices of the Socratic philosophy have been sufficient to settle the question. Fortunately one thing is clear, that Plato only claims to be true to facts in those points on which he agrees with Xenophon, as for instance, in the Apology and the Symposium. On other points no one could well assert that he wished all to be taken as historical which he puts into the mouth of Socrates. Of Xenophon, on the contrary, it may be asserted, that in the Memorabilia he intended to unfold a lifelike picture of the views and the con- duct of his teacher, although he did not feel himself bound to reproduce his discourses verbatim, and may have thus expanded in his own way many a conversa- tion, of which he only knew the general substance. The objections to his account are only based on an indirect argument, that the historical importance of Socrates can hardly be explained from the picture he gives, and that if it were true, it is impossible to con- ceive how Socrates could have said what Plato makes him say, without violating the strongest probabilities. And supposing this objection to be established, it would be necessary in order to gain an idea of his philosophy, to look to the very questionable picture of Plato, and to the few expressions of Aristotle. But before these can be received, an examination of 8 SOCRATES. Chap. them must be made in a more careful manner than ;___ the opponents of Xenophon have generally cared to do. The enquiry is closely bound up with an ex- position of the teaching of Socrates, and can only be distinguished from it in theory. It will not, therefore, be separated from it here. Socrates must be drawn after the three accounts of Xenophon, Plato, and Aristotle. If the attempt to form a har- monious picture from them all succeeds, Xenophon will be justified. Should it not succeed, it will then be necessary to ask, which of the traditional accounts is the true one. B. JPhifo- We will begin with enquiring into the general vnu>f P oin t' of view and the fundamental conception of view. Sup- Socrates. But, on the very threshold of the enquiry, ^popular different lines seem to be taken by our main autho- philosophy. r ities. According to Plato, Socrates appears as a perfect thinker — at home in all branches of know- ledge ; whereas, in Xenophon he is represented far less as a philosopher than as an innocent and excel- lent man, full of piety and common sense. It is from Xenophon's account that the ordinary view of Socrates has arisen, that he w r as only a popular teacher holding aloof from speculative questions, and that he was far less a philosopher than a teacher of morality and instructor of youth. 1 It cannot, indeed, be 1 How common this view was writers like Tan Heusde, but in past times, needs not to be even Marbaeh, a disciple of the proved by authorities which Hegelian philosophy, asserts that abound from Cicero down to Socrates 'regarded the specula- Wiggers and Eeinhold. That it tive philosophy which aimed at is not yet altogether exploded general knowledge, as useless, may be gathered not only from vain, and foolish/ and that he CHARACTERISTICS OF HIS PHILOSOPHY. 87 denied, nor have we attempted to do so, that he was Chap. full of the most lively enthusiasm for morality, and . made it the busiuess of his life to exercise a moral influence upon others. But if he had only discharged this duty in the superficial way of a popular teacher, and had only imparted and inculcated the ordinary notions of duty and virtue, it would be a mystery how he could have exerted the influence he did, not only on weak-minded and thoughtless young men, but on the most talented and cultivated of his co- temporaries. It would be inexplicable what induced Plato to connect the deepest philosophical enquiries with his person, or what induced all later philo- sophers, from Aristotle down to the Stoics and Neo- platonists to regard him as having inaugurated a new epoch in philosophy, and to trace their own peculiar systems to the stimulus imparted by him. There is also more than one feature in the per- sonal habits of Socrates to refute the idea that he thought knowledge only of value in as far as it was instrumental for action. So far is this view even from being the true one, that we shall find that he considered actions to have a value only when they proceeded from correct knowledge, the conception of knowledge being the higher one to which he referred that of moral action or virtue, and perfection of knowledge being the measure for perfection of action. Again, the ordinary view represents him as aiming ' took the field not only against sophy ; ' in short that ' he was no the Sophists as pretenders to philosopher.' knowledge, but against all philo- 88 SOCRATES. Chap. V. in his intercourse with others at moral training alone ; but it would appear l from his own words, that love of knowledge was the original motive for his activity; and accordingly we observe him in his dialogues pursuing enquiries, which not only have no moral end, 2 but which, in their practical applica- tion, could only serve immoral purposes. 3 These traits are not met with exclusively in one or other of our authorities, but they appear equally through the accounts given by the three main sources. This fact- would be wholly inexplicable if Socrates had been 1 Plato, Apol. 21, where So- crates deduces his whole activity from the fact that he pursued a real knowledge. 2 Examples are to be found in the conversation (Mem. iii. 10), in which Socrates conducts the painter Parrhasius, the sculptor Clito, and Pistias, the forger of armour, to the conceptions of their respective arts. It is true Xenophon introduces this con- versation with the remark that Socrates knew how to make him- self useful to artisans. But the desire to make himself useful can only have been a very subor- dinate one ; he was no doubt really actuated by the motive mentioned in the Apology, a praiseworthy curiosity to learn from intercourse with all classes, whether they were clearly con- scious of what their arts were for. Xenophon himself attests this, Mem. iv. 6, 1 : (tkottcov uvv T07s (TVVOVGl, Tt ZKCLOTOV til] TO)U uvtoov ovbeirdoiroT %Xr]yev. This pursuit of the conceptions of things, aiming not at the ap- plication of knowledge, but at knowledge itself, is quite enough to prove that Socrates was not only a preacher of virtue, but a philosopher. Even Xenophon found some difficulty in sub- ordinating it to his practical view of things, as hib words shew : from which it may be seen that Socrates made his friends more critical. But criticism is the organ of knowledge. 3 Mem. iii. 11 contains a paragraph adapted more than any other to refute the idea that Socrates was only a popular teacher. Socrates hears one of his companions commending the beauty of Theodota, and at once goes with his company to see her. He finds her acting as a painter's model, and he thereupon enters into a conversation with her, in which he endeavours to lead her to a conception of her trade, and shows her how she will best be able to win lovers. Now although such a step would not give that offence to the Greeks which it would to us, still there is not the least trace of a moral purpose in it. CHARACTERISTICS OF HIS PHILOSOPHY. 89 only the moralist for which he was formerly taken. Chap. The key which explains it will be found in the ' assumption that, in all his investigations, even when he appears specially as a moral teacher, a deeper philosophic interest was concealed below. Our authorities do not leave us any room to doubt c. His in what his purpose consisted. He sought for true t ^ eor y t ^ at knowledge in the service of the Delphic Grod. He consists busied himself unweariedly with his friends to gain a lionT^' knowledge of the essence of things. He referred all the claims of morality to the claims of knowledge. In a word, the idea of knowledge forms the centre of -" the Socratic philosophy. 1 Now, as all philosophy aims at knowledge, a further determination must be added to this definition : — that the pursuit of true knowledge, which had been hitherto an immediate and instinctive activity, became with Socrates a con- ^ scious and methodical pursuit. He became conscious of the idea of knowledge as knowledge, and when once conscious of it, he raised it to be his leading idea. 2 This, again, requires further explanation. If the love of knowledge was in existence before, it may be asked why did it not develope into a conscious and critical pursuit ? The answer can only be found 1 Schleiermacher, Works, iii. 2, to establish against the Sophists 300 : ' The awakening of the idea the absolute worth of moral de- of knowledge, and its first utteran- terminations, and then he adds: ces, must have been the substance to secure this purpose the first of the philosophy of Socrates.' aim of Socrates was to gain a Hitter agrees with this, G-esch. d. deeper insight into his inner life, Philosophic, ii. 50. Brandis only in order to be able to distinguish differs in unessential points. To false and true knowledge with him the origin of the doctrine of certainty. Similarly Braniss. Socrates appears to be his desire 2 Schleiermacher. Brandis. 90 SOCRATES. Chap. V. in the fact, that the knowledge which earlier philo- sophers pursued, was, in itself, different from the knowledge which Socrates required, and therefore they were not led on as Socrates was by this idea of knowledge to direct their attention to the intellectual processes and conditions, by which it was truly to be acquired. Such a necessity was, however, imposed on Socrates by the theory which he held, according to the most trustworthy accounts, as the soul of all his teaching — that all true knowledge must be based on correct conceptions, and that nothing can be known, unless it can be referred to a general con- ception, and judged of by that. 1 With this funda- 1 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 6, 1 : 'SooKpdrTjs yap rovs fx\v slbSras, ri eKaarrou eft] rwv ovtwv, tv6fxi£e koX rots aWois av e^yelaQai Svvaadai * rovs 5e fi^ el$6ras ovdev €v heoi/rai Kal eu ir^drrovcTLV. See also Plato, Phse- drus, 229, E. ; Symp. 216, A. 2 Plato, Apol. 21, B. : iycb yap dr, ovre fAeya ovre cr/juKpov ovvoioa efiavro3o~6(pos &v. — 21, D. : rovrov fiej/ rod avQpojirov eyoo o~o- KaXbv tcaya- 6bv etSeVcu, &AA* ovros jxev o%erai ri eiBeuai ovk eldojs, eyw Se &o~irep otv ovk o75a, ovfie oXofxai. — 23, B. : ovros vfxwv, co audpc/Diroi, aocpcoraros eariu, oar is &o~Trep 'XcaKparris eyixc- Kev, on ov^evbs fyios eart rfj a\r]- Oeia irpbs oro&iav. And a little be- fore: rb be KivSvpevei, ooavSpes 'AQrj- vatoi, toj ovri 6 Oebs o*ou cvj/oi/rcou sophy of Socrates, is put in the airy. Xenophon only took it to place of the oracular response. prove '6tl avrdpKeis 4v tolls -npovr,- 1 Compare, besides the Memo- Kovaais irpd^aLv avrovs elvai iire- rabilia, Plato, Apol. 24, C. ; Pro- jueAelTo: and the enquiry into tag. 335, B., 336, B. human nature has this meaning 2 Similarly Xen. Mem. iy. 7, in Mem. iii. 6 ; iv. 2 ; but clearly 1 : irdvruv fikv yap uv dycb oida this is not its original object. fidAiffra IfjiieAej/ avrcf elSeVcu, orov USE 01 EROS AND IRONY. 105 live in common. Love of knowledge is at once love Chaf. of friendship, and the peculiar character of the Socratic Eros 1 consists in the blending together of philosophy and friendship. The process bears also the character of irony ; for in as far as others do not possess the knowledge sought for, the questions of Socrates only serve to expose their ignorance. Irony, however, must not be understood to be merely a con- versational trick ; 2 still less is it that derisive condescension or affected simplicity, which as it were lures others on to the ice in order to laugh at their falls ; and it is equally removed from the intensely individualising tendency of the romantic school, which bears the same name, but is entirely destructive of all general truth. Properly speaking, it consists in this, that Socrates, without any positive knowledge, and only prompted by a desire for knowledge, addresses himself to others, in the hope of learning from them what they know, but that in the attempt to discover it, by a critical analysis of their notions 3 1 Brandis ii. a, 64, reminds and Cebes had treated of Zpm in us with justice that besides Plato the Socratic sense. and Xenophon, Euclid, Crito, 2 Hegel, G-esch. d. Phil. ii. 53, Simmias, and Antisthenes men- 57; Conf. Arist. Eth. iv. 13. tion writings about epcos, which 3 Plato at least gives this shew the importance of it for deeper meaning to the irony of the Socratic schools. The main Socrates. See Rep. i. 337, A. : av- passage in Xenophon is Syrup, c. T7j ine'ivr) 7) elcodvia elpwpeia^ooKpd- 8, in which the advantages of a rovs, Kal ravr iyk ydrj re Kal rov- spiritual and the disadvantages tols irpovXeyov, '6tl av airoKpiva- of a sensual love are insisted a ai fxkv ovk edeX^aois, elpcoyevaoio upon by Xenophon, speaking for Be teal ttclvtol fxaXKov iroi^aois 7} himself, as a careful survey of the airoKpivoio etris rlcre epoora. And Platonic Symposion will shew, again, 337, E. : iVa ^coKpdTrjs rb but undoubtedly following in the elcadbs Biairpd^-nrai, avrbs fxev /ul^ train of Socrates. Even iEschines airoKpij/rjraL, olKXov Se airoKpivofjLe^ VI. 106 SOCRATES. Chaf. VI. C. The formation of concep- tions and the method of proof by concep- tions. their supposed knowledge itself vanishes. In its widest acceptation, irony is the dialectical or the critical side of the Socratic method, and it assumes its peculiar form, owing to the presupposed ignorance of him who uses it for his instrument. But however conscious Socrates might be of pos- sessing no real knowledge, he must at least have believed that he possessed a notion of what know- ledge was and of its method, since, without this conviction, he would neither have been able to confess his own ignorance, nor to expose that of others, both being only rendered possible by com- paring current knowledge with the idea of knowledge residing somewhere. The fact that this idea was no where to be found realised, appeared to him to call for an attempt to make it actual, and hence resulted vov Xafxfidvr) Xoyov Kal eXeyxy ' to which Socrates replies : ttojs yap av . . . ris airoKpivairo irpoo- rou }xkv fxif] eldcos /XTiSe (pdffKwv elSevai, &c. Syrup. 216, E. : clpcovevofiepos §e kcu iraifav irdvra rbv fiiov nphs robs avQp&irovs dia- reXe?, which, as the context shews, refers partly to the fact that Socrates pretended to be in love, without being so in the Greek sense of the term, and partly to the words ayvoel izdvra Kal ov8hv olSev. The same, omitting the word clpoovela, is said in the pas- sage of the Thesetetus already mentioned, and in the Meno, 80, A. : ouSej/ clXXo 7) avros re airopeTs kcl\ robs a\Xovs 7roie?s airopelv, and also in the Apol. 23, E., in which, after the Socratic sifting of others has been described, it goes on to say : 4k ravrrjcrl 87? rrjs i^rdcrcoos iroXXol fikv cnrexdeLai fj.01 yeyovacri . . . ovo/jlcl 5e rovro . . . co(pbs eivai. oXovtcli ydp /xe eKdcrrore 01 Trapoures ravra avrbv eivai aocpbv a av dXXov i^eXey^cc. Likewise Xenophon, Mem. iv. 4, 10: on t&v dXXwv KarayeXas, ipoorccp jxhv Kal eXeyx&v ivavras, avrbs 5e ovdevl Q4Xo)V vire-xeiv Xoyov ou5e yvcc t ur)v airoQaiveoOai irepl ovSevos. And therefore Qnintilian ix. 2, 46, observes that the whole life of Socrates seemed an irony, because he always played the part of an admirer of the wisdom of others. Connected with this is the use which Socrates made of irony as a figure of speech. Conf. Plat. G-org. 489, E. ; Symp. 218, D. : Xen., Mem. iv. 2. Only its mean- ing must not be limited to this. FORMATION OF CONCEPTIONS. 107 the third point in his scientific course, the attempt Chap. to create real knowledge. Now, since he could only ' hold that knowledge to be true which was concerned with the conception of things, the formation of con- ceptions or induction l became for him a preliminary necessity. Even if formal definitions were not always forthcoming, some universal quality applicable to the conception and to the essence of the object, was always required, in order that any particular case which was brought before his notice might be solved by a reference to a universal category. 2 The class- quality therefore became of the greatest importance to him. This induction takes, as a starting point, the commonest opinions of men : it begins with examples taken from daily life, with well known and generally admitted maxims. On every disputed point Socrates refers to such instances, and hopes in this way to attain a universal agreement. 3 As all previous science had been called in question, nothing remained but to begin anew with the most simple matters of ex- perience. But induction does not as yet derive its value from the exhaustive and critically tested series'' of observations on which its conceptions are based. This is a later requirement due partly to Aristotle, and partly to more modern philosophy. The wider basis of positive knowledge based on an exhaustive 1 Compare the remarks of Ari- morabilia passim, and Xen. (Ec, stotle already mentioned, p. 90. 19, 15 : r) epwr-qais diSao-KaXia 2 e7r2 ttjv vtzoQzglv iiravjjye irdura icrlv . . . fryoov yap fie Bi &u iyce tov \6yov. See p. 90. eTria-ra/jLai, ouoia tovtols imdeiKyvs 3 Plato gives instances of this a ovk ivo/uii&v eTricrrao-Qai, avcnre'i- procedure. Compare the Me- 0eis, olfxcu ws kcu ravra iirio-TaiJiai, 108 SOCRATES. Chap. experience is as yet wanting, and its very possibility ' denied ; and so in expanding his thoughts in personal conversation, Socrates has distinct reference to the case before him, and to the capacity and needs of his audience. Confined to the assumptions which the circumstances and his own limited experience supply, he has to connect the thread of isolated notions and admissions, and can only go as far as others can follows In most cases he relies more on particular instances than on an exhaustive analysis of experi- ence. 1 He endeavours, however, to improve the chance element in his fundamental principles, by collecting opposite instances, with the view of cor- recting and supplementing different experiences by one another. For instance, the question is raised as to the conception of injustice. He is unjust, says Euthydemus, who lies, deceives, robs, &c. But, rejoins Socrates, it is right to lie, to deceive, and to rob, in the case of enemies. Accordingly, the con- ception must be more accurately limited, and be- comes: He is unjust who does such things to his friends. But in certain cases it is allowable to do such things to one's friends. A general is not unjust when he inspirits his army by a falsehood, nor a father, who gives his son medicine by an artifice, nor a friend, who gets a weapon out of his friend's hand, with which he would have committed suicide. We must, therefore, introduce a further limitation, and say: He is unjust who deceives his friends in order 1 As for example in the comparison of the politician with the physician, pilot, &c. METHOD OF INDUCTION. 109 to do them harm. 1 Or supposing the conception of Chap. a ruler has to be discovered. General opinion regards a ruler as one who has the power to give orders. But this power, Socrates shows, is conceded to a pilot on board ship, to a physician in sickness, and in every other case, to those only who are at home in their special subject. He, therefore, alone is a ruler who possesses the necessary knowledge to rule. 2 Or we have to determine what belongs to a good suit of armour. The smith says, it must have a proper measure. But suppose the man who has to wear it has a misshapen body? Why then, the answer is, the misshapen body must be the proper measure. And thus the armour has the proper measure, when it fits. But now, supposing a man wishes to move, must the armour fit exactly ? Certainly not, or it would impede the movements of the wearer. We must, therefore, understand by fitting what is comfortable for use. 3 In a similar way we see him analysing other common notions for the benefit of his friends. He reminds them of the various sides to every question ; he brings out the opposition which every notion contains either within itself or in relation to some other : and he aims at correcting, by additional observations, ideas resting on a one-sided experience, at completing them, and at giving to them more careful and accurate definitions. By this procedure will be discovered what belongs to the essence of every object, and what does not, and thus conceptions are formed from ordinary no- 1 Mem. iv. 2, 11. 2 Ibid. iii. 9, 10. 3 Ibid. iii. 10, 9. 110 SOCRATES. Chap. tions. But the class-qualities of conceptions are also the most important things for the purpose of proof. In order to discover whether a particular quality really belongs to a thing, or whether a particular course of action is necessary, Socrates goes back to the conception of the thing to which it refers ; and from it deduces what applies to the given case. 1 But since his aim in so doing is rather to decide a particular case than to construct an intellectual system, this part of his method has not the same importance as the formation of conceptions. The remarkable feature about his method of proof is that everything is measured and decided by conceptions. Otherwise, the theory of proof has, with Socrates, very little that is peculiar. When Aristotle, then, makes the chief merit of Socrates consist in the for- mation of conceptions and in induction, is he not on the whole right ? If we proceed to ask on what objects did Socrates practise his method, we meet with a motley array of materials in the Memorabilia of Xenophon — enquiries into the essence of virtue, the duties of man, the existence of Gods, contests with Sophists, counsels of the most varied kinds for friends and acquaintances, conversations with generals about the responsibilities 1 For instance, in order to cavalry, lie begins (Mem. iii reprove Lamprocles for his con- 3, 2), by stating what is his duct to Xanthippe, he first (Mem. employment, and enumerating ii. 1) lets him give a definition its different parts ; in order to of ingratitude, and then he shews prove the being of the gods, he that his conduct falls under this begins with the general principle conception ; in order to put his that all that serves an end duties before a commander of must have an intelligent cause. APPLICATION OF HIS METHOD. Ill of their office, with artificers and tradesmen about Chap. . .VI their arts, even with loose women about their mode ! of life. Nothing is too small to arouse his curiosity, and to be thoroughly and methodically examined by him. As Plato at a later time found essential con- ceptions in all things without exception, so Socrates, purely in the interest of knowledge, referred every- thing to the corresponding conception, even where no good seemed to result from so doing, either for education or for any other purpose. The life and pursuits of man were what he considered to be the proper object for his enquiries, and other things only in as far as they influenced the conditions and the occupations of that life. Hence his philosophy, which , in a general and scientific point of view was a cri- ticism of what is (Siaks/cTifcr}), became in its actual application a science of human actions {tjOikt}). 112 SOCRATES. CHAPTER VII. THE SUBSTANCE OF THE TEACHING OF SOCRATES : ETHICS. Chap. Socrates, says Xenophon, 1 did not, like most other philosophers before him, discourse concerning the A. Funda- na ture of the All ; he did not enquire into the mental re- i-i-i-in n striction of essence of the world and the laws of natural pheno- themojecu mena5 ^^ n the contrary, he declared it folly to /JZUTZeT CO Ethics. search into such subjects : for how could it be any- thing else but unreasonable to perplex the mind with divine things, before fully understanding human affairs ? The discordant opinions of natural philoso- phers proved that the object of their research tran- scended the powers of human knowledge, and after all, of what practical use could their enquiries be ? It is quite in keeping with this view, that the Socrates of Xenophon reduces geometry and astronomy 2 to the standard of our absolute wants — the knowledge re- quisite for surveying and navigation. Anything beyond this he considers to be unnecessary, or even impious, for how can men ever understand all the mysterious works of the Gods, while it is obvious that the Grods do not desire them to possess such 1 Mem. i.-l f 11. 2 Ibid. iv. 7. HIS TEACHING COXFIXED TO ETHICS. 113 knowledge. Hence all such attempts, those of Ana- Chap. xagoras for instance, necessarily involve men in ... extravagance. 1 The accuracy of this description of Socrates has, however, not passed unchallenged by modern writers. 2 Granting, they say, that Socrates really made use of these and similar expressions, can he in any way be understood to deprecate all speculative enquiry into nature ? Would this not be too manifestly at variance with his own fundamental notion of the oneness of all knowledge ? and would it not lead, if propounded as Xenophon has done, to consequences too mani- festly untenable ? Even Plato 3 bears testimony to the fact that Socrates did not attack natural science altogether, but only the ordinary treatment of it, and Xenophon himself cannot ignore the fact that on th whole his master did study nature, 4 hoping by con- sidering the relations of means to ends to gain an 1 Mem. iy. 7, 6: ti\us 5e tQp 3 Ph^do, 96, A. ; 97, B.; Bep. ovpai/icau, fj eKacrra 6 Otbs /j.7]- yii. 529, A. ; Phileb. 28, D. X&varai, (ppovTHTTTjv yiyvecOai i Mem. i. 4 ; iy. 3. No ar- aTT€Tp€ir€v' ot/re yap evpera &v- gument can be drawn from Mem. Opdoirois avra evofxi^ev eivai, outc i. 6, 14 : rovs drjcravpovs rail/ ■Xapi^adai 0€o?s av 7]y elro rbp iraXai cro(pcoy ai'^pcav, ovs €/ce?j/oi CrjTOvj/ra a eKtlvoi aixao~vfxfta>vi7. OlSas 5e Tivas aAAa -KOiOvvras r) h dtovrai 5e?V ; Ovk €yuy\ €(pr}. Conf. Plato, Prot. 358, C. 3 Plato, Prot, 352, C. : ap olv Kdl aoi TOLOVTOV TL 7T6pl aVTTJS \jT)S iTri(TTT}(JL7}S~] 5o/C€t 7) KaXoV TL €ivai 7] eiri(TT7)/jL7), Kcd oiov apx^iv tov avdpdoirov kcl\ idvirep yLyvcvcrKT} ms rayada kol\ ra kclko. /at] av K.p- KpaTTjs ecprj ovk e(/> 5 r)fj.?v yeveo~dai to crirovdaiovs eivai r) MeArjre . . el 5e teal eiriKivSvvois KaA&s xP^ (r ^ aL &kcov dLacpdeipQo . . . BrjXou on apBpe?oi elo~iv, ol 5e diafiaprdvovres eav fxddoo Travcofiai ye &Kcay rovrov SeiAoi. Plato, Prot. 360, ttolco. D. : 77 o~o- rovs ye Qetajxevovs rd5e dvnXeleiv aKovra xPVo~6ai avrots Kai rbv ra en oXofxai, &s ovxL Kal 7] dvfipeia aio~xp a eld or a ev\af$elo~Qai o~o8 3 avdpia kou Si/ccuocrui'Tj, Ka0a7rep $€T-o ^ce/cpar^F , . . ttqKv yap &fi€ii/ov \4yovffiv ol i£api- 6/j.ovvTes ras aperds. 4 Xen. Sym. 2, 9 : kcu 6 2v ; — Tldvv fieu odv. ol vofxoi K€\€vov(Tit/ 9 €7). — Ol apa 2 Mem. iv. 3, 16 : Euthy- ttoiovvtgs a ol vSfjiot KeXevovat. demus suggests that no one can Sinaid T€ iroiovcri kol\ a 8e?; Titos worthily honour the gods. So- ydp ov; In Mem. iv. 4, 12, crates tries to refute it: opas Socrates says : ^) Kai tl &\\o rcau toiovtow, being, since among all these things SUPERFICIAL TREATMENT OF MORALS. 129 the Cyrenaic doctrine of pleasure found a place among the Socratic schools, by the side of the rigid morality of the Cynics and the captious logic of the Megarians, 1 is in itself a testimony to the truth of Xenophon's description. The founder of the Cyre- naics, from all we can judge, firmly believed that he was clinging to the true spirit of the Socratic teach- ing; and it would be impossible to explain this fact at all unless Aristippus had found in the teaching of Socrates some link with which to connect his own. In theory, the Socratic doctrine of morals is far from being based upon pleasure ; but nevertheless in its logical development it has the appearance of being founded on utility. Did not even Kant, despite his ordinary strictness, follow a utilitarian line of argument in proving the immortality of the Chap. VII 1 Hermann (Plato, i. 257) has rightly drawn attention to this. But when he finds in the princi- ple of relative value (or as he calls it, ' Das Vorherrschen der Kelativitat') not merely a weak point in the philosophy of So- crates, but at the same time an instance of Socratic modesty, one feels inclined to ask, In what does this modesty consist? And when he connects with this the more general doctrine, which in his view distinguishes the Socratic dialectic from the Sophistic, and is the foundation of the Socratic maxims on the truth of universal conceptions — the doctrine that- all accidental qualities are re- lative, and that all grouping under conceptions has only a practical and unessential impor- tance — he appears to advocate a doctrine neither to be found in the Memorabilia (iii. 8, 4-7 ; 10, 12; iv. 6, 9; 2, 13), nor in. the Hippias Major (p.288)— thelatter in other respects a very doubtful authority. It is indeed stated in these passages, that the good and the beautiful are only good and beautiful for certain purposes by virtue of their use, but not that every application of these attri- butes to a subject has only a relative validity. This statement, however, would not under any circumstances prove a distinction between the Socratic and the Sophistic philosophy ; since the characteristic of the Sophists consisted in their allowing only a relative value to all scientific and moral principles. 130 SOCRATES. Chap. VII. D. Par- ticular moral rela- tions. (a) Indivi- dual inde- pendence. soul ? We would not therefore blame Socrates for being deficient in moral depth, but for failing to give a satisfactory intellectual development to the deeper truth of his doctrine. To give a systematic account of moral actions was not a part of the intention of Socrates. His views were from time to time expanded as occasion offered, and chance has, to a certain extent, decided which of his dialogues should come down to us. Still it may be assumed that Socrates kept those objects more especially in view, to which he is constantly revert- ing, according to Xenophon's account of him. In addition to his general demand for moral knowledge, and for knowledge of self, we may notice three such points in particular: — 1. The independence of the individual as secured by freedom from wants and desires ; 2. The higher side of social life, as seen in friendship ; 3. The demand for a commonwealth on a regularly organised plan. And to these may be added the question, 4. Whether, and How far, Socrates advanced beyond the ordinary morality of the Greeks by insisting on the duty of loving one's enemies ? Not only was Socrates himself a model of self-de- nial and abstemiousness, but he endeavoured to foster the same virtue in his friends. When was a subject more often the topic of conversation than abstemious- ness in the dialogues of Xenophon ? And did not Socrates distinctly call moderation the corner-stone l 1 Mem. i. 5, 4 : apd ye ov xpb iyupdreiav aperrjs chai Kprjirlda, ttdvra tivfiaa % r)W(rduet/ov «-*w ravrriy ttpwtov kv rrj tyvxy Kara- VII. MENTAL INDEPENDENCE. 131 of all virtue? On this point his opinions nearly Chap. agreed with those which afterwards played so im- portant a part in the schools of the Cynics and Stoics. Man can only become master of himself by being independent of his wants, and by the exercise of his powers ; while depending on the conditions and pleasures of the body, he resembles a slave. 1 The philosopher who considers knowledge to be the highest good, will naturally insist upon the mind's devoting itself to the pursuit of truth, in preference to every other thing, without allowing its meditations to be disturbed by the desires and appetites of the senses : 2 the less value he attaches to external things and the more closely he perceives happiness to be bound up with the intellectual condition of man, the more pressing will he feel the call to carry these principles into practice, by really becoming independent of the external world. But all those other motives, which co-operated in leading the moralists of a later epoch to the same conclusion, were unknown to Socrates. He was not an ascetic in relation to the pleasures of (TKevdrrao-dai ; This does not con- Symp. 8, 23. tradict the assertion that all ' l This connection appears virtue consists in knowledge. If clearly Mem. iv. 5, 6. When Socrates had at all reflected, he Socrates had shown that want of would have explained moderation moderation makes man a slave, as a kind of knowledge. The whilst moderation makes him above quoted passage might then free, he continues : vocpiav 5e to be taken to mean, that the con- fxiyi(Trou ayaObv ov 5ok€? croi viction of the worthlessness of aireipyovcra toov avQpoo'Kwv 7} sensual enjoyments must precede aKpacria els rovvavriov avrovs e/j.- every other moral knowledge. fi&hXeiv ; for how can any one 1 Xen. Mem.-, i. 5, 3 ; i. 6, recognise and choose what is good 5; ii. 1, 11; i. 2, 29; hi. 13, and useful, if he is ruled by the 3 ; and, in particular, iv. 5, 2 ; desire of what is pleasant ? K 2 132 SOCRATES. Chap. the senses, but displayed less strictness than might '__ have been anticipated, neither shrinking from enjoy- ment, nor yet feeling it needful. To continue master of himself in the midst of the allurements of the senses, by the unruffled dignity of his own inner life — that was the aim which his moderation proposed to itself. The language which Socrates uses in reference to certain indulgences may serve to illustrate this. However exemplary his own conduct was in con- trolling his passions, yet, in theory, he does not object to more or less of license, provided it be not carried too far, so as to be out of proportion to the requirements of the body, or a hindrance to higher ends. 1 Independence of mind, not strict purity, was the leading thought of his moral teaching. (b) Friend- To supplement this purely negative condition of s tp ' morality, a positive side was necessary ; and here the connection between man and his fellowmen was ready at hand in its simplest form — that of friend- ship. This relation, as we have already remarked, was defended by Socrates, on the ground of its ad- vantages ; but it cannot be denied that it possessed both for himself and for his philosophy, a deeper 1 Mem. i. 3., 14: ovrca 8?) kcll good, and partly to the harm it ap ydovas toIs jx\v &\Aois is found indicative of the popular fyois dovvcu irepiypd^auras rov character of these general con- stovs x?^ vov i Vtuv 5e avi/ex&s siderations : rb 8e kcu tcls tcov ^XP l vhpws ravia irapextw, 144 SOCRATES. Chap. enquiries of Socrates established a scientific doctrine L_ of morals ; notwithstanding his popular treatment, (b) The the theory of the adaptation of means to ends intro- vaiue oj ° L this theory duced that ideal method of viewing nature, which vhihfoTh ever a ^ er re ^g ne( i supreme in the natural philosophy of the Greeks, and together with all its attendant abuses proved itself of so much value for the em- pirical study of nature. It would appear, indeed, that he was hardly aware how great a service he was rendering to the science of nature, having only con- sidered the fitness of means to ends in the world, in the interest of piety and morals. At the same time, it may be observed how closely his view of nature was connected with the theory that knowledge applies only to conceptions, and how on the other hand, the shortcomings of that view were due to the undeveloped character of his intellectual principles. B. Qod If> m the next place, we ask what was the notion and the which Socrates formed to himself of the reason that worship of God. created the world, the reply is, that he mostly speaks (a) Popu- of Gods in a popular way as many, 1 meaning by the Term that, the Gods of the popular faith. 2 But he also Gods. clearly perceived the oneness of God in contrast with this multiplicity, as is not uncommonly met with in the case of other Greeks : 3 in one passage he even distinguishes the creator and ruler of the uni- verse from the rest of the Gods. 4 Do we not 1 Mem. i. 1, 19 ; 3, 3 ; 4, 11 ; twos 8-n/uuovpyov kcl\ (piKoC^ov — IV. 3, 3. TOV TOV 060V OtydaAfJLOP, T7\V TOV 2 Mem. iv, 3, 16. 6eov (ppov-qviv. 3 Mem. i. 4, 5 ; 7, 17: o e£ 4 Mem. iv. 3, 13. The gods apxrjs Troicov aydpcairovs, — aocpov are invisible ; o'l re yap &A\oi COXCUPTIOX OF GOD. 145 recognise here, that union of polytheism and mono- Chap. theism, which lay so ready at hand to a Greek, and '__ which was brought about by reducing the many Gods of the popular faith to the rank of vassals of One Supreme God ? In as far as a consideration of the world, and its (b) God reasonable arrangement conducted Socrates to the as f^^ea- notion of One Supreme Being, the mode in which sonofthe t» « ti tt t world. he conceived this Being was like that 01 Heraclitus and Anaxagoras : God appeared as Reason ruling the world, and holding the same relation to the world that the soul does to the body. 1 Hence came his high and pure ideas of God as a being invisible, all-wise, all- powerful, present everywhere. As the soul, without being visible, visibly affects the body, so God affects the world. As the soul exercises unlimited dominion over the small portion of the world which belongs to it — its individual body — so God exercises dominion 7)/mv ra ayada S&ovres ovdep zlvai . . . koX T, ry\v 8e rod 1 Mem. i. 4, 8 : av be aahrbv Beov aWoQi ivavncv e7r Lfj.ehe7aBat. 8e ovbafxov ovolv otei (ppovifxov L 146 SOCRATES. Chap. VIII. (c) The fore- thought of God. (d) His 'pure maxims for the worship of God. over the whole world. As the soul is present in all parts of its body, so Grod is in the Universe. And if the soul, notwithstanding the limitations by which it is confined, can perceive what is distant, and have thoughts of the most varied kinds, surely the know- ledge and care of Grod must be able to embrace the whole universe at once. 1 The providential care of Grod had been already assumed 2 as a matter of belief, in arguing for His existence from the relation of means to ends. It appeared to be most readily explained by considering the analogous case of the care which the human soul exercises over the body. Socrates thought to discern in oracles a special proof of the divine care : 3 by them the most important things, which could not otherwise be known, were revealed by Grod to man. He, therefore, considered it equally foolish to despise oracles, or to consult them in cases capable of being solved by our own reflection. 4 It followed, as a matter of course, that prayer, sacrifice, and obe- dience 5 formed part of the worship of Grod. As to the form and manner of worship, he desired every one to follow the custom of his nation, but at the same time he laid down those purer maxims which corresponded to his own idea of God. He 1 Compare the words in Mem. i. 4, 18; If you apply to the Gods for prophecy, yv&vr) to Qeiov on TOCTOVTOV KOLL TOIOVTOV iCTlV, W(T0' afxa irduTa bpav kcl\ irdvra aiwveiv Ka\ irauraxov Trap€7j/ai, nal a/jLa TrdvTcav iiri[jLe\€L(r6ai ■ and the words in iv. 3, 12 : on 5e ye a\rj6rj \eyco . . . yvdoo-p, av fir] ava/uLevys, ecos hi/ ras fj.op(pas twv Qzwv tdys' also i. 1, 19. 2 Mem. iv. 3; i. 4, 6 and 11. 3 Ibid. iv. 3, 12; i. 4, 14. 4 Ibid. i. 1, 6. 5 Compare Mem. iv. 3, 14 ; ii. 2, 14. WORSHIP OF GOD. 147 advised men not to pray for special, and least of all Chap. for external goods, but only to ask for what is gene- rally good : for who but Grod knows what is advan- tageous for man, or knows it so fully? And, with regard to sacrifices, he declared that the greatness of the sacrifice is of no consequence compared with the spirit of him who sacrifices, and that the more pious a man is, the more acceptable will his offering be, so long as it is proportionate to his means. 1 He abstained from theological speculations on prin- ciple, desiring to lead his fellow men to piety far more than to inquire into the nature of Grod. This will explain why he never felt the need of uniting the various parts of his religious belief into one harmonious conception, so as to form a perfectly consistent picture, and thus eliminate the contra- dictory elements, which it may easily be shown to contain. 2 * A certain divine element Socrates thought to C. Dignity discern within the soul of man, 3 a view which had °f man ' been already held by others before him. This, per- mortality. haps, led him to the belief in immediate revelations of Grod to the human soul, such as he thought that he himself enjoyed. As a theory, this must have 1 Mem. i. 3, 2 ; iv. 3, 17. one God. This assumption would 2 We have all the less reason belie not only the definite and for supposing with Denis (Histoire repeated assertions of Xenophon, des Theories et des Idees morales but also Socrates' unflinching love dans l'Antiquite, Paris et Strasb. of truth. 1856, i. 79), that Socrates, like 3 Mem. iv. 3, 14: a\\a fity Antisthenes, spared polytheism Kal audpanrov ye tyvxh, eiVep tl from regard to the needs of the Kal aAAo rwv dpdpwiriywy, iuv masses, whilst he believed in only deiov ^ere^e*. L 2 148 SOCRATES. Chap. been welcome to a philosopher who devoted his at- VIII L_ tention closely to the moral and spiritual nature of man, but it does not appear that Socrates ever at- tempted to explain it philosophically. Just as little did he give a scientific proof of the immortality of the soul, although as a belief he was disposed to accept it, partly in consequence of his high opinion of the dignity of man, and partly, too, on the ground of expediency. 1 At the same time, he expressed himself with the greatest doubt and caution on the subject in Plato's Apology, 2 on an occasion when the withholding of a conviction would least have been expected. 3 The expressions, however, of the dying Cyrus in Xenophon, 4 agree so well with the mind of Socrates, that we are fain to suppose that he con- sidered the existence of the soul after death to be probable, although he did not pretend to any certain knowledge on the point. The future life of the soul was accepted by him as an article of faith, the scientific grounds of which belonged to those pro- blems which surpass the powers of the human mind. 5 1 Compare Hermann in Mar- the soul's dying with the body is burger Lectionskatalog, 1835-6, left an open question, but in Plat. 684. either case death is stated to be 2 40, C. ; after his condem- the end of all evils. nation. 5 The above description of the 3 Death is either an eternal philosophy of Socrates . rests on sleep, or a transition to a new the exclusive authority of Xeno- life, but in neither case is it an phon, Plato and Aristotle. What evil. is stated by later writers is in 4 Cyrop. viiL 7, 19. Several a great measure drawn from these reasons are first adduced in fa- sources, and whenever it goes be- vour of immortality, bub they yond them, there is no guarantee need to be greatly strengthened for its accuracy. It is, however, to be anything like rigid proofs, possible that some genuine utter- In conclusion, the possibility of ances may have been preserved in IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 149 the writings of iEschines and others, which are omitted by our authorities. Such, for instance, are the statements of Cleanthes quoted by Clement (Stroma, ii. 417, D.), and repeated by Cicero (Off. iii. 3, 11), that Socrates taught the identity of justice and happiness, and pronounced a curse on the man who first made a distinction between them : the statements in Cic. Off. ii. 12, 43* (taken from Xen. Mem. ii. 6, 39; conf. Cyrop. i. 6, 22) ; in Seneca, Epist. 28, 2 ; 104, 7 (travelling is of no good to fools); 71, 16 (truth and virtue are identical) ; in Plut. Ed. Pu. c. 7, on education (the passage in c. 9, is an inaccurate reference to Plato, Gorg. 470, D.) ; in Ders. Cons, ad Apoll. c. 9, that if all sufferings had to be equally di- vided, every one would gladly preserve his own ; in Ders. Conj. Prsec. c. 25, on the moral use of the looking glass ; in Ders. Ser. Num. Vind. c. 5, deprecating anger; in Demet. Byz. quoted by Diog. ii. 21, (G-ell. N. A. xiv. 6, 5), that philosophy ought to be confined tO O, Tl TOL 4v fJL€ydpOl(Tl, KOLKOV T ayaQdv re rervKrat ; in Diog. ii. 30, blaming the sophistry of Chap. Euclid; in Diog. ii. 31 (un- VIII. doubtedly from a writing of a Cynic or Stoic) that intelligence is the only good, ignorance the only evil, and that riches and noble birth do more harm than good ; in Diog. ii. 32, that to marry or to abstain from marriage is equally bad ; in Grell. xix. 2, 7, that most men live to eat, whilst he eats to live ; in Stob. Ekl. i. 54, giving a definition of God; Ibid. ii. 356, that self- restraint is the best form of government ; in Teles, apud Stob. Eloril. 40, 8, blaming the Athen- ians for banishing their best, and honouring their worst men. Stobseus in his Florilegium men- tions a large number purporting to come from Socrates, but most of them are colourless, or run to epigrammatic points, which are a poor substitute for what is truly Socratic : and altogether their number makes them very sus- pected. Probably they were taken from a collection of proverbs which some later writer published under the name of Socratic pro- verbs. 1 ^0 SOCRATES. CHAPTER IX. RETROSPECT. XENOPHON AND PLATO. SOCRATES AND THE SOPHISTS. Chap. If from the point now reached we return to our TV • former enquiry, and ask to which of his biographers A. Truth- we must look for a historically accurate account of fulness of Xenophon' s Socrates and his teaching, we shall be obliged to descrip- admit, that not one of them affords us such a tion. guarantee for the accuracy of his description, as any original writings or literal reports of the utterances of the great teacher. But so much is evident, that the personal character of Socrates, as pourtrayed by both Xenophon or Plato, is in all essential points, one and the same. Their descriptions mutually supplement each other on a few points, and con- tradict each other in none. The supplementary portions may, therefore, be referred to a common (a) Xeno- picture, which was before the eyes of both. It will phortsview also be found that the philosophy of Socrates as in har- L . onony with given by Plato and Aristotle is not different from Plat o and ** as gi yen by Xenophon, provided those parts are Aristotle, alone considered in the writings of Plato which undoubtedly belong to Socrates, and in Xenophon a distinction is made between the underlying thought ACCURACY OF XENOPHON S DESCRIPTION. 151 and the commonplace language in which it is Chap. expressed. In Xenophon, Socrates may be heard __H__ expressing the opinion that true knowledge is the highest object, and that this knowledge consists in a knowledge of conceptions only. In Xenophon may be observed all the characteristics of that method by which Socrates strove to produce know- ledge. By Xenophon virtue is reduced to know- ledge, and this position is supported by the same arguments, and is made to lead to the same results, as in Aristotle and Plato. In short, all the leading features of the philosophy of Socrates are preserved by Xenophon, granting at the same time that he was not fully aware of the deeper meaning of many a saying, and therefore failed to reproduce it as vividly as it deserved. Here and there, too, a common-place expression occurs in the writings of Xenophon instead of a philosophical one. For in- stance, instead of saying, ' All virtue is knowledge,' he substitutes with less accuracy, 'All virtue is wisdom.' If, again, the defects of the Socratic philosophy, the popular and prosaic way in which subjects are treated, the want of system, the utilita- rian basis of moral teaching, appear more pro- minently in Xenophon than in Plato and Aristotle, this need not surprise us, when we consider the brevity with which Aristotle speaks of Socrates, and the extent to which Plato developes both the substance and the form of the Socratic teaching. On the other hand, Xenophon's description is confirmed partly by individual admissions of Plato, and partly by its 152 SOCRATES. Chap. inward truth and conformity to that picture which ;___ we must make for ourselves of the first appearance of the new principle in Socrates. All that can be conceded to the detractors of Xenophon is, that he did not understand the philosophical importance of his teacher, and therefore it falls into the background in his picture. To supplement this deficiency we must be content to draw from Plato and Aristotle. It cannot, however, be allowed that Xenophon has in any respect given a false account of Socrates, or that it is impossible to gather from his description the true character and importance of the doctrine of his master. (b) Schlei- It may be said that this estimate of Xenophon is Objection 8 rei>u ted by the place which Socrates is known to have answered, held in history. ' If,' as Schleiermacher observes, 1 6 Socrates had done nothing but discourse in a purer and loftier strain on subjects w T ithin those limits which are never passed in the Memorabilia of Xeno- phon, it would be impossible to understand how the charm of his speech could have emptied the market- place and the workshops, the public walks and the schools, for so many years ; how he could have satis- fied so long Alcibiades and Critias, Plato and Euclid ; how he could have played the part assigned to him in the dialogues of Plato ; in short, how he could have been the founder and type of the philosophy of Athens.' But it is Plato himself w 7 ho bears a valuable testimony to the accuracy of Xenophon's description. To what does Alcibiades refer, when 1 Werke, iii. 2, 295. XEXOPHOX VINDICATED. 153 anxious to bring out the higher fascination con- Chap. IX cealed in the strange language of Socrates^ and under ___1_^__ his Silenus-like appearance ? What is implied in his admirable description of the impression produced on him by Socrates ? l What in his view had been the cause of the revolutionary change in the inner life of Greece ? What but the moral considerations which form the subject of the Socratic dialogues in Xeno- phon ! These and these only are dwelt upon by So- crates in his Apology, 2 in speaking of his higher call- ing, and his services to his country : it is his business to exhort others to virtue : and if he considers his con- versation attractive because of its critical attempts, 3 he is only referring to a process of which many ex- amples are to be found in Xenophon, that of con- 1 Symp. 215. E.: oravydpaKovco l^et^ov av dxOoi/u.r}v, ware ovk ex«, [2o> k par ovs~\ rroAv /not. fxdAAov r) o ri xpTKTOpcu. rovrop rop dvQpoonop. rcov Kopvfiavnoovrcov 7] re KapBia lb. 221, D. : Kal ol Aoyoi avrov •nr\Ba kcu Bdnpva inxeLTcu. virb rcov djjLOioTCLToi elo~L tois 'Xet.Arivo'is TOtS" Aoycov rcov rovrov. opco Be Kal Bioiyojj.evois . . . Bioiyofievovs Be &AAovs Tra/jLTToWovs to aura rvd- iBcov aii ns Kal euros avrcov yiyvo- o~xovras : this was not the case fievos irpcorov fxev vovv exovras with other speakers, ovBe redopv- evBov jjlovvovs €vpr)creL rcov Aoycov, firjro fiov r) \pvxv ov& r\yavaKrei eireira deiordrovs Kal TrAeTcTT 5 cos dvB pair oBcoB cos BiaKeijj.ei'ov. aAA 5 dyaAfxar dperr)s ev avro7s exovras, virb rourovl rod Mapava iroAAaKis Kal eirl irAelarov reivovras, fiaAAov Br} ovrco Bieredrjv, were jjlol Bo£ai Be eirl irdv oo~ov irpoo"f}Kei o~Koire?v fir) fiicorbv eivai exovneos *X°° • ■ • rep (xeAAovn KaAop Kayadcp eo~eo-6ai. dvayKa(ei yap fxe o/jLoAoyeiv on 2 29, B. ; 38, A. ; 41, E. iroAAov evBer)s &v avrbs en ifiav- 3 Apol. 23, C. : irpbs Be rovroLS rov fxev afxeAco rd §' 'Adrjvaicov oi veoi /xol eiraKoAovdovvres oTs irpdrrco . . . ireirovda Be Trpbs rod- fxaAicra &xoAr) eo~nv oi rcov rov fxovov dvQpcoircov, a ovk &v ns irAovaLcordrcov avrS/xaroL x^ L povo~iv otoiro ev ifjiol evelvai, rb alo~xv- aKovovres e^era^Ofievoov rcov av- veo~Qai bvnvovv .... Bpairerevco Opcoircov, Kal avrol iroAAaKis ifie oZv avrbv Kal (pevyco, Kal orav fxi/jLOvvrai €ira einx^ipovcriv aAAovs ?Bco aio~xvvop.ai rd w/xoAoyrj/xeva J e^erd^eiv. An example of such Kal iroAAaKis fxev riBecos av tBoi/uu an enquiry is to be found in the avrbv /xr) ovra ev dvQpcoirois ' €i S' conversation of Alcibiades with av rovro yevoiro, ev olBa on iroAv Pericles, Mem. i. 1 ? 40. 154 SOCRATES. Chap. vincing people of ignorance in the affairs of their calling. B. Import- rpj ie e £f ec £ p roc i uce( i by the discourses of Socrates ance of the r J Socratic does not surprise us, even if they were only of the f™tZ 9 age kind described b y Xenophon. It is true, that as he in which reproduces them, they may often appear trivial and ,' '' tedious ; and with reference to the result attained (a) Great importance in any particular case, they may really be so. The tis method ^ or S er °^ armour is required to adapt the shield to the person of him who is to wear it : l the care of the body is said to be attended with many advan- tages : 2 friends, it is argued, must be secured by kindness and attention : 3 these, and such like maxims, which are often widely expanded by Socrates, con- tain for us nothing new, nor can they have appeared as novelties to his cotemporaries. The new and im- portant element in these enquiries does not consist in their meaning, but in their method, in the fact that what was formerly presupposed without enquiry, and unconsciously admitted, was now consciously re- cognised by thought. Any too minute or pedantic application of this method on the part of Socrates would not probably have given the same offence to his cotemporaries as it would to us, who are not learning for the first time the art of thinking freely, or of being independent of the authority of lifeless customs. 4 Did not the enquiries of the Sophists contain much less, and did not the Sophists, not- 1 Mem. iii. 10, 9. 4 Comp. Hegel, Gresch. d.Phil. 2 Ibid. iii. 12, 4. ii. 59. 3 Ibid. ii. 10, 6, 9. VALUE OF HIS METHOD: ITS OBJECT. 155 withstanding their being so much engaged with Chap. empty cavils, impart an almost electrical shock ' to their age, simply and solely because a new power, and a new method of reflection — travesty of thought as it was — had dawned upon the Greek mind? It would, therefore, be possible to under- stand in some degree the immediate influence of Socrates on his cotemporaries, even if he had con- fined himself to those unimportant topics, upon which so many of his dialogues exclusively turn. But these unimportant topics hold a subordinate (b) His position even according to Xenophon. The leading j^ c ^ ° ' object of Socrates, was to institute a real enquiry deeply ^ in- into the necessity of knowledge, into the nature of one% morality, into the conceptions of the various virtues, and to gain a thorough insight into man's moral and intellectual nature. This object he pursued by giving practical directions for the formation of conceptions, and by asking critical questions which obliged those who replied, to consider what their notions implied, and at what their actions aimed. Can we wonder that such enquiries should have produced a deep impression on the cotemporaries of Socrates, and an entire change in the Greek mode of thought, such as the testimony of history records ? or, that a keener thinker anticipated behind those apparently commonplace and unimportant expressions of So- crates, which his biographers unanimously record, the sight of a newly discovered world ? It was reserved for Plato and Aristotle to conquer this new world, but Socrates was the first to discover it, and to open 156 SOCRATES. Chap. the way to it for others. Fully as we may recognise ___jj__ the shortcomings of his endeavours, and the limits which his individual nature imposed on him, we shall still find enough to make us honour him as the originator of a philosophy of conceptions, as a re- former of method, and as the first founder of a scientific doctrine of morals. C. Its vela- To understand the relation of Socrates to the teaching Sophists, we must consider the one-sided and un- ofthe satisfactory parts of his method as well as its more perfect and salient features. During the last thirty years, these points have been examined with the most opposite results. Before that time all critics seemed to agree in accepting Plato's view, and making Socrates the severe opponent of the Sophists. Hegel first gave currency to the con- trary opinion, assigning to both Socrates and the Sophists the same common ground — an introspec- tive and personal tendency — and G-rote 1 has more recently contradicted the traditional notion of the antithesis between Socrates and the Sophists, though in a somewhat different way. If by a Sophist, he argues, taking the word in its historical meaning, we are to understand a public teacher, educating youth for practical life, Socrates is him- self the true type of a Sophist. If on the other hand the term is used to characterise the tone and teaching of a school, it is an abuse to call this - Sophistry, or to group together under one class all 1 Hist, of Greece, viii. 479. HIS RELATION TO THE SOPHISTS. 157 the different individuals who appeared as Sophists. Chap. The Sophists were not a sect or a school, but a ___^_1__ profession, men of the most varied views, for the most part extremely deserving and excellent persons, with whose views we have not the least right to be offended. Hegel and his followers attacked the or- dinary view of the relation of Socrates to the So- phists, because Socrates, in one respect, entirely agreed with the Sophists. Grote attacks it for the very opposite reason, because the most distinguished of the so-called Sophists agreed with Socrates. Our previous enquiries will have shown, that much may be said in favour of either view, but that neither is altogether correct. Grote is right in saying that Sophist means in the first place a wise man, and secondly, one who imparts instruction in practical matters. But this need not prevent us from giving to the word the wider meaning which subsequent use established, and taking it to designate the peculiarities of a certain class of men. These peculiarities are not altogether expresssed in the cha- racter of a public teacher of virtue — a point which Grrote keeps exclusively in view. Still there is a common type belonging to that whole group of men whom we call Sophists, which may be recognised amid individual divergencies, if they only are referred to their source in the mind. The doubts of men such as Protagoras, Grorgias, and Euthydemus, the quibbling which characterised most, the display of words which was practised by all the Sophists, the show of technicalities, the pretensions to knowledge 158 SOCRATES. IX, Chap. accompanied by an avowed indifference to the ends which knowledge should be made to serve ; ! all these peculiarities have a tendency in the same direc- tion — to a partial culture of the understanding, to an indifference to real truth, and an aiming only at personal skill. Assuming then that the moral teaching of the older Sophists did not differ from the opinions and practices current in Greece at the time, the questionable principles of their successors were a natural expansion of the germ which their doubts, their subtleties, and their parade of words had planted. From this it will appear that it is not consistent with history to contrast Socrates with the Sophists, in the same sense that sound and unsound philosophy 1 Compare the promise of art ; but it is one thing to teach Protagoras to make the weaker an art, which may be abused, side appear the stronger. Grote, another thing to teach the art how viii. 499, thinks to avoid the to abuse it. An apothecary could offensive!! ess of this principle by more easily commit an act of remarking, that the same prin- poisoning, or a locksmith of ciple has been objected to in housebreaking, than other people; Isocrates and others, and even in but both would be justly censured Socrates. But this is changing if they professed to teach their the ground. It was not at- pupils the art of poisoning or tributed to Protagoras falsely, of housebreaking respectively, but he avowed it himself, and ex- Grote also appeals to the fact plained it by saying that a teach- that a lawyer is not blamed for er of eloquence could not meddle helping the wrong side as well with the ends for which his art as the right side with his elo- was employed, but must help to- quence. But this is not altogether wards the attainment even of true. A lawyer is bound to say wicked ends. Compare with this the best that can be said for a the opposite view taken of Ehe- criminal, but if he were to make toric by Plato in the Gorgias and it his profession always to help Phsedrus, and by Aristotle, Bhet. the wrong side, he would be i. 1. Now it is clear that a rightly called a perverter of teacher of rhetoric cannot be justice, answerable for the abuse of his HIS RELATION TO THE SOPHISTS. 159 are contrasted, or good and evil. In Xenophon, So- Chap. crates does not appear in such marked contradistine- ' tion to the Sophists as in Plato, 1 and in Plato the antithesis is not nearly so great as it is made by- several modern writers. 2 But at the same time So- crates cannot be brought into so close a connection with the Sophists as Grote supposes ; Hegel's view, that he was substantially like them, has, however, provoked a greater opposition than it deserves. Both Hegel and Grote do not deny that the sophistical notion of personal truth differed widely from that of Socrates, and neither they nor their opponents can deny that the Sophists were the first to draw philosophy away from nature to morals and the study of the mind — in short, to transplant thought to a relative soil. The whole question, therefore, really resolves itself into this : — Must we say that Socrates and the Sophists resembled one another, both taking personal truth as their ground, but differing in their views of personal truth ? or that they differed, the nature of their treatment being a different one, whilst they agreed in making it rela- tive ? Or to put the question in another shape : — There being points both of agreement and difference between them, which of the two is the more import- ant and decisive characteristic ? The reply which * we must here give, is that the difference far ex- ceeded the resemblance. The Sophists failed in the 1 Compare Xen. Mem. iv. 4. D.; 164, D. ; 165, E. ; Eep. i. 354, 2 Proofs in Protagoras and A. ; vi. 498, C. Gorgias, Thseetet. 151, D,; 162, 160 SOCRATES. Chap. very thing which is the root of the philosophical ' greatness of Socrates — the striving after a real and universally valid knowledge, and after a method by which it could be attained. They could call in question all that had been previously believed, but they could not mark out a new and more certain road to truth. They may be like Socrates in neglect- ing the study of nature, and making the culture which applies to practical life their object, but this culture has with them a different character, and a different meaning to what it bears with Socrates. The ultimate end of their instruction is a superficial skill, subservient to individual caprice, all independ- ent truth having been long since abandoned by them. With Socrates, on the contrary, the acquisi- tion of truth is the ultimate end, in which alone is to be found a rule for the guidance of the individual. Hence in its further expansion the Sophistic teach- ing could not fail to separate from the scientific culture which preceeded it, and indeed from every kind of science. If it had succeeded in gaining undisputed sway, it would have sounded the death note of Greek philosophy. Socrates alone bore in himself the germ of a new life for thought. So- crates alone became by his philosophical principles the reformer of philosophy. 1 1 Hermann even allows this in from the wisdom of Socrates in saying (Plato, i. 232) that the their want of a fruit-bearing importance of Socrates for the germ. But this admission is hard- history of philosophy must be ly consistent with making the gathered far more from his per- second period of philosophy com- sonal opposition to the Sophists mence with the Sophists instead than from his general resemblance of with Socrates. to them. The Sophists differed HIS TRAGIC END. 161 CHAPTEE X. THE DEATH OF SOCRATES. We are now for the first time in a position to pass c HAP§ judgment on the circumstances attending the tragic x - end of Socrates. The historical events which led to his a. Details death are well known. A whole lifetime had been °f th f. ac ~ cusatwn, spent at Athens, during w 7 hich Socrates had been his defence, attacked frequently, 1 although never judicially, when in the year 399 B.C., 3 an accusation was pre- (a) Theac- sentence, and death. ferred against him, charging him with unfaithfulness to the religion of his country, with introducing new Gods, and with exercising a harmful influence on youth. 4 The chief accuser, 5 was Meletus, 6 who was 1 Compare besides the Clouds Max. Tyr. ix. 2, proves nothing of Aristophanes, Xen. Mem. i. 2, against this, as Hermann has 31 ; iv. 4, 3; Plato, Apol. 32, C; shown, De Socratis Accusatoribus. 22, E. 6 For the way in which this 2 Plato, Apol. 17, D. name is written, instead of MeAi- 3 See p. 49. ros, as was formerly the custom, 4 The accusation, according to see Hermann, It appears by a Favorinus in Diog. ii. 40, Xen. comparison of various passages, Mem. (Begin), was: rdfie iypd\paro that the accuser of Socrates is kcl\ duToofjLocraTo MeK-qros MeA^Tou neither the politician, as Forch- ITiT0€i;s 'SooKpareL ^cacppovtaKov hammer makes him to be, nor J AAo;7refa}0ev • aBiKeiHooKp arrjs, ovs the opponent of Andocides, with fxev 7] ttoXls vo/jii^ei deovs ov vofxi- whom others have identified him, fav, eVepa 5e kolivol SaifMovia nor again the poet mentioned by etVrjyTJ/xevos • aSi/ce? 8e kclI robs Aristophanes (Frogs, 1302), but veovs SiacpQsipiav rlurjua Qdvaros. some younger man, perhaps the 5 See Plato, Apol. 19, B. ; 24, son of the poet, B. ; 28, A.; Euthyphro, 2, B. M cusation. 162 SOCRATES. Chap. X. assisted by Anytus, one of the leaders and re-intro- ducers of the Athenian democracy, 1 and by Lyco, 2 who is otherwise unknown. The friends of Socrates appear at first to have considered his condemnation to be an impossibility, 3 but he was under no delusion himself about the danger which threatened him. 4 Concern or anxiety, however, for his own defence was contrary to the nature of Socrates. 5 Not only did he 1 Further particulars about him are given by Forchhammer, 79 ; and Hermann, 9. They are gathered from Plato, Meno, 90, A. ; Schol. in Plat. Apol. 18, B. ; Lysias adv. Dand. 8 : adv. Agorat. 78 ; Isoc. adv. Callim. 23 ; Plut. Herod, malign. 26, 6 ; Coriol. c. 14; Schol. in iEschin. adv. Tim. § 87; Diod. xiii. 64. He is mentioned by Xenoph. Hell. ii. 3, 42, 44, as well as by Isocrates, as a leader of the Democratic party, together with Thrasybulus. 2 For the various conjectures about him consult Hermann, p. 12. Besides the above-named persons a certain Polyeuctus, according to Favorinus inDiog. ii. 38, took part in assisting the accuser. Probably "Amtos ought to be written in this passage instead of TloXvevros, and in the following passage UoKvevros in- stead of "Aj/utos, UoXvevTos being here probably a transcriber's mistake for Uo\vKpdr7)s. But the words as they stand must be incorrect. The celebrated orator Polycrates is said to have com- posed the speech of Anytus, and it is proved beyond doubt by Isocr. Bus. 4 ; JElian, V. H. xi. 10, that he drew up an indict- ment of Socrates. But it is also clear from Favorinus, that his indictment was not used at the trial. Indeed it would appear from Favorinus that it was not written till some time after the death of Socrates. 3 This is proved bytheEuthy- phro, if this dialogue, as Stein- hart supposes, was hastily penned after the beginning of the trial, its object being to prove that Socrates, though accused of im- piety, had a deeper piety and a keener appreciation of the nature of piety, than one who had incurred ridicule by his extra- vagances, but had nevertheless brought himself into the odour of sanctity. The treatment of the question is too light and satirical for the dialogue to belong to a time when the full seriousness of his position was felt. 4 Comp. Xen. Mem. iv. 8, 6 ; Plato, Apol. 19, A.; 24, A.; 28, A. ; 36, A. 5 In Xen. Mem. iv. 8. 5, So- crates says that when he wished to think about his defence, his daimonium opposed him ; and according to Diog. ii. 40 ; Cic. de Orat. i. 54; Quintil. Inst. ii. 15, 30; xi. 1, 11; Val. Max. vi. 4, 2 ; Stob. Floril. 7, 56, he declined a speech which Lysias offered him. It is asserted by Plato, Apol. 17. B., that he spoke without pre- paration. THE ACCUSATION. 163 consider it an unworthy and wrongful act to attempt anything except by simple truth, but more than that, it was impossible for him to forget his own pecu- liarities, and to make use of an artificial eloquence which went against his nature. But with the most perfect confidence, he could leave the issue in the hands of Grod, convinced that all would be for the best — a conviction which grew stronger and stronger, the more he became familiar with the idea that death would bring him more good than life, and that an unjust condemnation would only save him from the painful weaknesses of age, and leave his fair name unsullied. 1 Chap. X. 1 Of the motives of Socrates the above seems to follow with cer- taintv from passages in Plato, ApoL 17, B.; 19, A.; 29, A. ; 30, C. ; 34, C, andXen. Mem. iv. 8, 4-10. Cousin and Grote, however, give him credit for a great deal more than can be reconciled with the testimony of history, or with the rest of his character. Consin (CEuvres de Platon, i. 58), seems to think that Socrates was aware that he must perish in the conflict with his age, but he forgets that the explanation given in Plato's Apology, 29, B., is only a con- ditional one, and that the passage in that treatise 37, C, was written after the judicial sentence. Even Grote appears to go too far in asserting in his excellent de- scription of the trial (viii. 654), that Socrates was hardly anxious to be acquitted, and that his speech was addressed far more to posterity than to his judges. History only warrants the belief, that with magnanimous devotion to his cause Socrates was indifferent to the result of his words, and endeavoured from the first to reconcile himself to a probably unfavourable result. It does not, however, follow, that he was anxious to be condemned; nor have we reason to suppose so, since he could have wished for nothing which he considered to be wrong, and his modesty kept him uncertain as to what was the best for himself. See Apol. 19, A.; 29, A.; 30, D. ; 35, D. We cannot therefore believe with Grrotethat Socrates had well con- sidered his line of defence, and chosen it with a full consciousness of the result ; that in his conduct before the court he was actuated only by a wish to display his personal greatness and the great- ness of his mission in the most emphatic manner; and that by de- parting this life when at the summit of his greatness, he de- sired to give a lesson to youth the most impressive which it was 164 SOCRATES. Chap. X. (b) So- crates' defence of himself. Such was the mental attitude, in which he pro- nounced his defence. 1 The language is not that of a criminal, who only wishes to save his life, but that of an impartial arbiter, who would dispel erroneous in the power of man to give. To presuppose such calculation on the part of Socrates is not only contradictory to the statement that he uttered his defence with- out preparation, but it appears to be opposed to the picture which we are accustomed to see of his character. In that picture, as far as it goes, his conduct does not appear to be a work of cal- culation, but a thing of immediate conviction, a consequence of that uprightness of character which would not allow him to go one step beyond his principles. His principles, however, did not allow him to consider results, since he could not know what result would be beneficial to him. It was his business to speak the truth alone, and to despise anything like cor- rupting the judges by eloquence. This may appear a narrow-minded view, but no other course of conduct would so well have corresponded with the bearing and character of Socrates ; and herein consists his greatness, that he chose what was in harmony with himself in the face of ex- treme danger, with classic com- posure and unruffled brow. 1 We possess two accounts of the speech of Socrates before his judges, a shorter one in Xeno- phon and a longer one in Plato's Apology. Xenophon's Apology is certainly spurious, and with it any value attaching to the testi- mony of Hermogenes, to whom the compiler professes to be in- debted for his information, is lost. In reference to Plato's, the cur- rent view seems well established, that this Apology is not a mere creation of his own, but that in all substantial points, it faith- fully records what Socrates said, and the attempt of Georgii to prove the contrary will not stand. Georgii complains that in the Socrates of Plato that yue-yaA?]- yopia is wanting, which Xeno- phon commends in him — a judg- ment with which few will agree, and which the writer of the Apology attributed to Xenophon did not follow. He also considers the sophism with which the charge of atheism was met, improbable in the mouth of Socrates, though it may just as likely have come from him as from one of his disciples. He doubts whether Socrates could have maintained a composure so perfect ; although all that we know of Socrates shows unruffled calm as a main trait in his character. He sees in the prominent features of that character a diplomatic calcula- tion, which others will look for in vain. He considers it in- credible that Socrates should have begun with a studied quotation from the Clouds of Aristophanes, aiming at nothing else but the refutation of prejudices, which lasted undeniably, (according to the testimony of Xenophon, Mem. i. 1, 11 ; (Ec.l2,3;Synp. 6, 6),till after his own death, and perhaps contributed much to his con- HIS DEFENCE. 165 views by a simple statement of the truth, or of a patriot raising a warning voice against wrong-doing and overhastiness. The accuser has to be convinced of his ignorance ; the accusation to be refuted by criti- cism. But at the same time dignity and prin- ciple are never for one moment forgotten. No entreaties are addressed to the judges. Their sen- tence is not feared, whatever it may be. He stands in the service of Grod, and is determined to keep his post in the face of every danger. No commands can make him faithless to his higher calling, or prevent him from obeying Grod rather than the Athenians. Chap. X. damnation. He misses in Plato many things, which Socrates might have said in his defence, and did actually say according to the Apology of Xenophon. But to this no importance can be attached, and it is probable that in an unprepared speech Socrates omitted much, which might have told in his favour. Then again he can hardly be convinced that Socrates cross-questioned Miletus so searchingly as Plato describes ; but this passage agrees with the usual character of the discourse of Socrates, and the sophism by which Socrates proved that he did not corrupt youth is quite his own. That Socrates should have met the charge of atheism by quibbles, instead of appealing to the fact of his reverence for the G-ods of the state, he can only understand, by supposing it an expression of Plato's religious views : although Plato would have had no reason for sup- pressing the fact, supposing So- crates had really made such an appeal ; he even describes the devotion of his master to the Gods of his country, and is himself anxious to continue that service. The same may be said in reply to most of the reasoning of G-eorgii. On the contrary, the difference in style between the Apology and Plato's usual writ- ings, seems to prove that this Apology was not drawn up with his usual artistic freedom, and the notion of G-eorgii referring it to the same time as the Phsedo appears altogether inconceivable considering the great difference between the two in regard to their philosophical contents and their artistic form. It certainly was not Plato's intention to record literally the words of Socrates, and we maybe satisfied with comparing his Apology to the speeches in Thucydides, as Steinhart does, bearing in mind what Thucydides, i. 22, says of himself, — that he had kept as close as possible to the sense and substance of what was said — and applying it equally to Plato. 166 SOCRATES. Chap. X. 0) His condemna- tion. The result of his speech was, what might have been expected. The majority of the judges were un- doubtedly disposed to pronounce him innocent, but the bearing which he displayed in court could not fail to offend the members of a popular tribunal, before which men of the highest distinction and emi- nence had quailed. 1 Accordingly many who would otherwise have given their votes in his favour, decided against him, and by only a very small ma- jority 2 he was condemned to death. 3 According to 1 Let the attitude of Pericles be remembered on the occasion of the accusation of Aspasia, and that depicted by Plato in the Apology, 34, C. Indeed it is a well- known fact, that it was a special hobby of the Athenian people, to sit in judgment, and that it watched with peculiar jealousy this attribute of its sovereignty. 2 According to Plato, Apol. 36, A., he would have been acquitted if 3, or as another reading has it, if 30 of his judges had been of a different mind. But how can this be reconciled with the state- ment of Diog. ii. 41 : KarediKdaSr) diaKocricus by^o'fjKoura /j.ia irXeioai ip7]ts. for the most part follow the old 1 The political career of Damon, view; for instance, Meiners, who according to the use of the (resell, d. Wissenschaft, ii. 476 ; Greek language can be called a Tiedeman, G-eist d. spek.Phil. ii. Sophist, establishes nothing to the 21. Others, such as Buhle, Gesch. contrary. d. Phil. i. 372; Tenneman, Gresch. 2 Protagoras had been indicted d. Phil. ii. 40, confine themselves for atheism before Socrates, and to stating generally, that Socrates on the same plea Socrates was made many enemies by his zeal attacked by Aristophanes, who for morality,' without men tioning never spared any partizans of the Sophists. sophistry. 4 There are a few exceptions, 3 The treatise of Preret was such as Heinsius. written as early as 1736, but not 5 Forchhammer : Die Athener published till 1809, when it und Socrates, die G-esetzlichen appeared together with several und der Eevolutionar. other of his writings. It was 6 Plut. Cato, c. 23. 172 SOCRATES. Chap. X. (b) It did not proceed from per- sonal animosity. (a) Anytus may have borne him lies nearest to hand 5 is that of some older writers, who refer the execution of Socrates to personal animosity, and give up as untenable the idea that the Sophists were in any way connected with it. 1 A great deal may be said in its favour. In Plato, 2 Socrates declared that he was not the victim of Anytus or Meletus, but of the ill-will which he incurred by his criticism of men. Anytus, however, as we know, bore him a grudge on personal grounds. Plato suggests 3 that he was aggrieved with the judg- ments passed by Socrates on the leading statesmen of the time ; but, according to Xenophon's Apology, 4 he was offended because Socrates urged him to prepare his son for a higher profession than that of a dealer in leather ; by which it appears he had made the young man discontented with his business. 5 1 This is found in Fries, G-esch. d. Phil. i. 249, who speaks of the i hatred and envy of a great portion of the people,' as the motives which brought about the trial. Sigwart, Gesch. d. Phil. i. S9, gives prominence to this motive, and Brandis, who dis- tinguishes two kinds of opponents to Socrates (Gr. rom. Phil. ii. 26), those who considered his philo- sophy incompatible with ancient discipline and morality, and those who could not endure his moral earnestness, attributes the accu- sation to the latter. Grote, viii. 637, inclines to the same view. He proves how unpopular Socrates must have made himself by his criticism of men. He remarks that Athens was the only place where it would have been possible to carry it on so long, and that it is by no means a matter for wonder, that Socrates was ac- cused and condemned, but only that this did not happen sooner. If he had been tolerated so long, there must have been special reasons, however, for the accu- sation ; and these he is inclined to find partly in his relations to Critias and Alcibiades, and partly in the hatred of Anvtus. 2 Apol. 28, A. ; 22, E. ; 23, C. 3 Meno, 94 ; in reference to which Diog. ii. 38, says of Anytus : ovros yap ov cpepow rhv virb ^ooKpdrovs xAeucuT/uoy. 4 Compare with this Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 92; Grote, Hist, of Greece, viii. 661. 5 Later writers know more. According to Plut. Ale. c. 4 ; Amator. 17, 27; and Satyrus in Athenaeus, xii. 534, e, Anytus was PERSONAL HATRED NOT THE ONLY CAUSE. 173 Anytus is said to have been the first who suggested Chap. to Aristophanes the idea of a comedy on Socrates ; ' and he afterwards took part with Meletus in the formal accusation. 1 Nor is it improbable that some such motives were active in producing the attack on Socrates, and contributed in no small degree to its success. To convince men of their ignorance is the most thankless of tasks. Any one who could do so for a life-time so unsparingly as Socrates, must expect to make many enemies ; and they will be dangerous ones, if he singles out men of distinguished position or talents for the objects of his criticism. But personal animosity cannot have been the sole (0) Sut cause of the condemnation of Socrates, nor is Plato's % ave i em language about Anvtus conclusive. Indeed the more other causes ° ° . at work to Socrates and his pupils became convinced of the lead to his iustice of his cause, the less were they able to dis- condemna - cover the real grounds of the accusation. If the one wish of Socrates was to do w T hat was best, what ground could any one possibly have had for opposing him, except wounded pride ? The story in Xenophon would at best only explain the hatred of Anytus, but it would not account for the widely spread prejudice against Socrates. Whether it is true at all is ques- tionable ; and supposing it to be true, it is doubtful whether this personal injury was the only cause a lover of Alcibiades, but was have deceived Luzac (De Socr, rejected by him, whilst Alcibiades Cive, 133); especially since Xe- showed every attention to So- nophon and Plato would never crates, and hence the enmity of have omitted in silence such a Anytus to Socrates. Such an reason for the accusation, improbable story ought not to 1 JElian, V. H. ii. 13. 174 SOCRATES. Chap. which influenced Anytus against him. 1 Allowing, __J___ too, that Socrates made many enemies of influential people, is it not strange that their personal animosity should never have burst forth till immediately after the re-establishment of order in Athens ? In the most unsettled and corrupt times no serious perse- cution had been set on foot against him, and at the time of the enquiry into the mutilation of the Hermse, no advantage had been taken of his connection with Alcibiades ; nor had he suffered from the incensed state of popular feeling after the battle (7) This is of Arginusse. 2 Even Plato allows 3 that what told ^Plato's ^ against Socrates most at the trial, w 7 as the general language, conviction that his teaching was of a dangerous cha- racter; and he states that as matters then stood, it was impossible for any one to speak the truth in political matters without being derided as a vain babbler, and persecuted as a corrupter of youth. 4 On this point the testimony of writers so opposite as Xenophon and Aristophanes proves that it was not merely a passing prejudice, at least not in Athens, but that it lasted a whole life-time, not confined to the masses, but shared by men of high importance and influence in the state. 1 This is just possible. That treaties, and not abusing his the character of Anytus was not political power to make amends unimpeachable we gather from for his losses during the oligar- the story (Aristot. in Harpo- chical government, oration 5eKafa>*>; Diodor. xiii. 64; 2 The astonishment expressed Plut. Coriol. 14), that when he by Tenneman at this is natural was first charged with treason he from his point of view. Only his corrupted the judges. On the solution of the difficulty is hardly other hand, Isocr. (in Callim. 23) satisfactory, praises him for being together 3 Apol. 18, B. ; 19, B. ; 23, D. with Thrasybulus faithful to the 4 Polit. 299, B. ; Rep. vi. 488, PERSOXAL HAT BED XOT THE SOLE CAUSE. 175 With regard to Aristophanes, it has been asserted Chap. latterly l that real feeling cannot be united with his ^_^__ coarse kind of wit : earnest and real patriotism can ( 5 ) And never express itself in sneers and ridicule : even Aristo- when it appears to be seriously meant, it is the P^nes, 11 _ m ' who was a seriousness of frivolity, praising for the moment what realpatriot. is great and sacred, and treading it in the dust directly afterwards with zeal greater in proportion to the praise. Others have with justice come to the rescue of the moral character of Aristophanes against such a depreciation. 2 To make him a dry preacher of morals would be ridiculous. It is equally un- satisfactory to bring into such prominence the political motives of his plays as to forget their worth as works of art, and to cloth a comedian, who in a mad fit exposes to ridicule all authorities divine and human, with the serious garb of a political prophet. 3 But it is again an error to lose sight of the grave vein which underlies the comic license of his plays, and to mistake his occasional pathos for off-hand jest. If nothing but flippancy were intended, the insin- cerity of the sentiment would soon show itself in artistic defects, as is actually the case in the modern French and German Romances. There the utter 496, C. ; Apol. 32, E. ; Gorg. 473, passage on the fate of Socrates, E. ; 521, D. G-esch. d. Phil. ii. 82, is not quite 1 By Droysen in his transla- free from it, although both of tion of Aristophanes, i. 263 ; iii.12. them justly recognise ( HegelJPha- 2 Brandis, Gr. rom. Phil. ii. a, nomena log. 560 ; iEsthetik, 537, 26 ; Schnitzer in his translation 562 ; Eotscher, p. 365), that there of the Clouds. is an element subversive of Greek 3 Kotscher's spirited descrip- life, quite as much in the comedies tion suffers from this onesided- f Aristophanes, as in the state ness, and even Hegel, in his of things of which he complains. 176 SOCRATES. Chap. hollowness of all moral foundation is the cause of . that fatal want of unity, which baffles every attempt at perfect poetry, and with discordant notes destroys the harmony of the parts. But instead of this, a real feeling of patriotism may be observed in Ari- stophanes, not only in the unsullied beauty of many individual utterances, but like a key-note sounding through all his plays, perhaps in the earlier ones disturbing his poetic flow, 1 but proving all the more conclusively, how near the love of country lay to his heart. This alone could have induced him to give a political turn to his comedies, by w r hich, as he justly takes credit to himself, 2 comedy gained a far higher ground than had been allowed it by his predecessors. At the same time it cannot be denied that Ari- stophanes is as much deficient as others in the morality and the faith of the earlier ages. 3 No doubt, when men and circumstances had so tho- roughly changed, it was absurd to endeavour to re- turn to the olden time. But it by no means follows that the attempt was not made by him in good faith. His was indeed a case frequently met with in history — a man attacking a principle in others, which he is unconsciously following himself. Aristophanes attacked innovations in morals, politics, religion, and art. But being in his inmost soul the offspring of his age, he combated them with the weapons and 1 Compare Schnitzer, and the 2 Peace, 732; Wasps, 1022; passages quoted by him. Clouds, 537. 3 Compare Droysen. NOT CONDEMNED FOR POLITICAL VIEWS. 177 in the spirit of this age, and thus became entangled Chap. in the contradiction of trying to revive, and yet by one ' and the same act destroying, the old morality. It can just as little be questioned that he was guilty of this inconsistency, as it can be doubted that it was a proof of shortsightedness to attempt to preserve a form of culture which had been irretrievably lost. But that he was conscious of this inconsistency can- not be believed. A buffoon without sentiment — (this is what Droysen makes him to be) — would hardly have ventured to attack Cleon, a task so fraught with peril. And would Plato have brought him into the society of Socrates in the Symposium, and made him utter a speech full of gaiety, if he had seen in him so despicable a character ? If, however, the attack upon Socrates was seriously meant, and Ari- stophanes really took him. to be a Sophist dangerous alike to religion and morality — which was the view he expresses in the Clouds — it will be seen that the charges preferred at the trial were not an empty sham, and that something more than personal grudges must have been active in producing his condemnation. If, then, taking into account all that is known of (c) Was he the trial and the personal character of the accusers, f a p uti- we ask what were really the causes at work, we have cal V art V ■ but one of two alternatives left: either the attack on Socrates was specially directed against his politi- cal creed, 1 or it was directed in general against his 1 This is the view of Freret, of crate juste damnato (Lips. 1738), Dresig in the dissertation De So- of Suvern (notes to Clouds), of N 178 SOCRATES. Chap. mode of thought and teaching in regard to morals, religion, and politics. 1 Both explanations are to a great extent the same, but they are not so identical that we can avoid distinguishing them. A great deal may be alleged in favour of the view, that the attack on Socrates was undertaken in the interest of the democratic party. Anytus, one of the accusers, was a leading democrat at the time. The judges too are spoken of as men, who had been banished and had returned with Thrasybulus. 2 Further, one of the charges preferred against Socrates was, that Critias, the most unscrupulous and the most hated of the oligarchical party, had been his pupil ; 3 and iEschines 4 plainly says to the Athenians : You have put to death the Sophist Socrates, because he was the teacher of Critias. Others, too, are found among the friends and pupils of Socrates, who must have been hated by the democrats because of their aristocratical sympathies. Such were Charmides, 5 and Xenophon, who was banished from Athens 6 about the time of the trial of Socrates, perhaps Bitter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 30, and 4 Adv. Tim. 173. No great im- of Forchhammer (Die Athener portanee can be attached to this und Socrates). More indefinite authority, as the context shows, is Hermann, Plat. i. 35, and iEschines is talking as an orator Wiggers, Socr. p. 123. not as an historian. 1 Hegel, G-esch. d. Phil. ii. 81 ; s Charmides,the uncle of P]ato, Eotscher, p. 256, 268, specially one of the thirty, was, according with reference to the Clouds of toXen. Hell, ii. 4, 19, one of the Aristophanes ; Henning, Princ. ten commanders at the Peirseus, der Ethik. p. 44. Compare, and fell on the same day with Baur, Socrates und Christus, Tub. Critias in conflict with the exiled Zeitschrift, 1837. Athenians. 2 Plato, Apol. 21, A. 6 Forchhammer, p. 84, also 3 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 12 ; Plato, mentions Theramenes, the sup- Apol. 33, A. porter of the thirty tyrants, who NOT CONDEMNED FOR POLITICAL VIEWS. 179 even in connection with It 3 because of his inti- macy with CyruSj the friend of the Spartans. And lastly, it is especially recorded, that in one of the formal indictments Socrates was charged w r ith using slighting expressions regarding the democratic form of election by lot, 1 and with teaching his audience to treat the poor with insolence, 2 by so frequently quoting the w r ords — Each prince of name or chief in arms approved, He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved. Chap. X. But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose, Him with reproof he check' d or tamed with blows.' may have been a pupil of So- crates without, as Forchhammer will have it, adopting the political opinions of his teacher. .But Diodor., xiv. 5, from whom the story comes, is a very uncer- tain authority. For Diodorus combines with it the very im- probable story that Socrates tried to rescue Theramenes from the clutches of the thirty, and could only be dissuaded from this audacious attempt by many entreaties. Neither Xenophon nor Plato mention Theramenes among the pupils of Socrates. In the accusation brought against the victors at Arginusse, it was Socrates who espoused their cause, and Theramenes who by his in- trigues brought about their con- demnation. 1 Mem. i. 2, 9, 2 Ibid. i. 2, 58. 3 Iliad, ii. 188. Forchhammer detects a great deal more in these verses. He thinks that Socrates was thus expressing his con- viction of the necessity of an oligarchical constitution, and was using the words of Hesiod epyov 5' ovhev oveidos (which the accusers also took advantage of, as a plea for not delaying, but for striking when the time for action came. The real importance of the quotation from Homer, he contends, must not be sought in the verses quoted by Xenophon, but in those omitted by him (II. ii. 192-197, 203-2C5): the charge was not brought against Socrates for spreading anti-democratic sentiments, which Xenophon alone mentions, but for promot- ing the establishment of an oligarchical form of government. This is however the very opposite of historical criticism. If Forch- hammer relies upon the statements of Xenophon, how can he at the same time assert that they are false in most important points ? And if on the other hand he wishes to strengthen these state- ments, how can he use them to uphold the view, by which he condemns them ? He has, how- N 2 180 SOCRATES. Chap. X. (d) He was the victim of more general causes 1 (a) The charges were not directed against the political element in his teach- ing only. Taking all these facts into account, there can be no doubt that the interests of the democratic party were involved in the trial of Socrates. But we cannot rest content with these reasons. The indictment by no means brings into promi- nence the anti-republican sentiments of Socrates. The charges against him were, that he rejected the Grods of his country and that he corrupted youth. 1 These Grods were however not merely the Grods of the republican party, but the Grods of Athens. If in individual cases, as for instance in the affair of the Herrnse, insult to the Grods was connected with at- tacks on the republican government, the connection was by no means a necessary one, nor was it named in the act of accusation. With regard to the corrup- tion of youth, 2 it certainly was one of the charges brought against Socrates that he instilled aristocratic insolence into young men, and a scorn for republican forms of government, and also that he was the teacher ever, detected oligarchical ten- dencies elsewhere, where no traces of them exist. For in- stance, he enumerates not only Critias but Alcibiades among the anti-democratical pupils of So- crates ; andhe speaks of the politi- cal activity of Socrates after the battle of Arginusse by remarking that the oligarchs elected on the council board their brethren in political sentiments. It is true the levity of Alcibiades made him dangerous to the democratic party, but in his own time he never passed for an oligarch, but for a democrat. See Xen. Mem. i. 2, 12 ; Thuc. viii. 63, 48 and 68.- "With regard to the condemnation of the victors of Arginusae. Athens had then not only partially, but altogether shaken off the oligar- chical constitution of Pisander. This maybe gathered from Freret's remark, from the account of the trial (Xen. Hell. i. 7), as well as from the distinct statement of Plato (Apol. 32, C. : teal ravra /J.€V i)V €TL §r\U.OKpCLTOVfJL€VriS TT}S 7r6\€cos) ; not to mention the fact that these generals were decided democrats, and hence could not have been elected bv oligarchs. 1 Plato, Apol. 24, B. 2 Mem. i. 2, 9. CONDEMNED ON GENERAL GROUNDS. 181 of Critias. But credit was also given him on account Chap. of his being the teacher of Aleibiades, who had '_ injured the city by republican rather than by aristo- cratic opinions. A further charge was, that he taught sons to despise their fathers, 1 and that he permitted them to indulge in actions which brought gain, 2 no matter how base or unjust they might be. It would appear from this, that not only was ^ ^ut the political side of his teaching, in the narrower extended x ° to its moral sense of the term, the subject of attack, but its and bearing's on morals and religion were also included. rell 9 1 : 0US ° ° bearings. The latter points are what chiefly engaged the at- tention of Aristophanes. After all the ancient and modern discussions as to the scope of the Clouds, 3 it may be taken for established, that the Socrates of this comedy is not intended to be a representative — exaggerated of course by comic license — of a mode of thought which Aristophanes knew was foreign to the real Socrates. 4 Aristophanes did not desire to attack the propensity to subtle distinc- tions in general, and the absurdities of sophistry and useless learning; but the play was distinctly aimed at the peculiar tendency of the Socratic philosophy. It cannot, however, be supposed, after what has been already said, that this attack pro- ceeded only from malice or from personal animosity 1 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 49; Apol. to their translations of the Clouds, 20 and 29. have further expanded the ques- 2 3Iem. i. 2, 56. tion. 3 Kotscher (Aristophanes, p. 4 As is assumed by Gr. Her- 272), gives a review of previous mann, Praef. ad Nubes, and by opinions. Since then, Droysen others. and Schnitzer in the introductions 182 SOCRATES. Chap. on the part of Aristophanes, Plato's description of ' the Symposium places this out of the question. The opinions of Eeisig 1 and Wolf 2 are equally unten- able. Eeisig makes the character which Aristophanes assigns to Socrates, belong not to the individual Socrates, but to the whole body of his pupils, in par- ticular to Euripides. The spectators, however, would certainly have referred the whole to Socrates, and hence we may infer that Aristophanes intended them to do so. Wolf suggests that the portrait in the Clouds depicts the younger years of Socrates, when he was devoted to natural philosophy. But the very same objections were raised against him eighteen years later in the Frogs; 3 and we gather from Plato's Apology that the current view of Socrates and his teaching up to the time of his death agreed substantially with that of Ari- stophanes. Besides, it hardly needs to be repeated here that Socrates probably never was a lover of natural philosophy ; and that in the Clouds he is attacked as a Sophist rather than as a natural philosopher. (7) This is Aristophanes must really have believed that he proved by (Ji scern ed i n the Socrates with whom the history of the part J assigned to philosophy has to do, a principle deserving his attack. Socrates m mL . • r . • .■* . -i ■% . j , the Clouds "J- bis 1S > °* course > n °t saying that he did not exagger- ate the historical figure and consciously attribute to it many features in reality foreign to it. But we must suppose that the outline of his picture agreed with the idea he had formed to himself of Socrates, 1 Prsef. ad Nnbes. Similarly Van Heusde, Char- 2 In his translation of the acterismi, p. 19. Clouds. See Kotseher, 297. 3 Frogs, 1491. CONDEMNED ON GENERAL GROUNDS. 183 and with current opinion. He would otherwise have Chap. been guilty of a misrepresentation, quite out of '_ keeping with his usual character and with the atti- tude he occupied towards Socrates according to Plato's account; a misrepresentation, too, which would have injured the success of the play. Plato tells us expressly, that public opinion pronounced the picture of Aristophanes to be in the main correct ; and hence the belief of Silvern cannot possibly be right, 1 that the Socrates of the Clouds is not meant to be an individual, but a type of a school of cavilling and dis- play, 2 this school being the real object of attack. Far from it, Socrates was made to be the champion of so- phistry because Aristophanes really regarded him as a Sophist and believed that in his public capacity he was guilty of the things laid to his charge. Not a single part of his picture has an exclusively political colour. Independently of what is altogether irrelevant and obviously fabricated, the charges against him are three: his being occupied with useless physical and in- tellectual subtleties, 3 his rejecting the Gods of the city, 4 and what is the turning point of the whole play, his sophistic facility of speech, which can gain for the wrong side the victory, and make the weaker argu- ment appear to be the stronger. 5 In other words, 1 In the treatises already re- 3 143-234, 636. ferred to. 4 365-410. 2 2s ot to mention the false 5 Clouds, 889. Droysen unfairly opinion, which however is sup- blames this play for making a ported by Hertzberg, that the stronger argument into a right one. play was aimed at Alcibiades, The Xoyos Kpeirroiv is the really who is concealed under the name stronger case in point of justice, of Phidippides. which is however thrown into the 184 SOCRATES. Chap. the speculative, irreligious, and sophistical bearings _„"J of the Socratic teaching are attacked ; but there is not one word which relates to an anti-republican tendency, although Aristophanes, had he observed it, might have been expected to insist on it more than anything else. Even at a later time 1 these were the only charges mentioned by Aristophanes, and the only ones which, according to Plato, continued to wield any influence on his opponents. 2 Hence when Plato assures us (18, B.) that these charges were particu- larly fatal to Socrates, there is every reason to believe that his assurance may be accepted. (5) Socrates Allowing however that political motives had some attacked we i£ht in the condemnation of Socrates, how can this not only o 7 because of admission be made to agree with the previous state- republican ment ? The reply to this question has been already views, but pointed out. 3 The conviction of the guilt of Socrates as being an enemy of resulted from a behei, that the tendency of his teaching the good was (j an g erous to morality and religion, but the reason oia T/Viiie, that he was judicially presented lay without doubt in the special political circumstances of the times. The growth of sophistry was neither the sole nor the chief cause of the fall of Athens in the Peloponnesian war, but shade by the Xoyos H\ttwv ; and ris avrovs epcora, o ri iroiuy kol what is meant by rov rjrrca Xoyov o rt SjSria/ooi/, exoutn fxkv ovZev Kpeirrcc iroieiv is, making the case eiVeTz/, aXX 3 dyvoovo-iv, 'iva Se fjLTj which in point of justice is weaker, HokShtiv diropeiv, ra Kara irdvrcov to be the stronger as to the actual rcov tyiXoaocpovvToov irpox^^po-ravra result, — giving to an unjust act Xsyovcriv, on ra fjierecopa ical ra the colour of justice. vtto 777s, uat deovs /jlt) po/jll^iv kcu 1 Frogs, 1491. rov ^jrra) Xoyov Kpeirrw iroisiv. 2 Apol. 23, D. : Xeyovo~iv, d>y 3 Eitter, p. 31. Marbach, 2w/cpctT7]s ris eo~n fxiap&raros koX Gesch. d. Phil. i. 185, 9 ; and diacpdtipeL robs vious ' Kal €7rei5dV Schwelger, G-esch. d. Phil. 30. CONDEMNED ON GENERAL GROUNDS. 185 yet it contributed to that result ; and naturally the Chap. opponents of the new culture were disposed to lay _____!___ more to its charge than it deserved. Had not the schools of the Sophists sent forth many of the modern statesmen, who had either as aristocrats or as dema- gogues torn the state to pieces ? Was it not in those schools that a corrupt form of morality was taught, which substituted the wishes and caprice of the individual in place of the customary morality and religion, put self-interest in the place of right, and taught that absolute sovereignty was the summit of human happiness? Were not those schools the cradle of an unmeaning eloquence, which employed a variety of technical tricks for any purpose, no matter what, and made it its highest triumph to gain a victory for the side of the wrong ? Can we then wonder that Aristophanes considered the new-fangled education responsible for all the misfortunes of the common- wealth ; x that Anytus cannot find terms strong enough to express his horror of the pernicious influence of the Sophists ; 2 that all friends of the good old time believed that they saw in Sophistry the chief malady of the state ; and that this feeling was intensified during the last years of the Peloponnesian war, and under the concluding reign of force? It was only natural that those who rescued Athens from an oli- garchy, and with the old constitution re-established her political independence, should wish by suppress- ing the education of the Sophists to stop the evil at its source. Besides, Socrates not only appeared as a 1 Clouds, 910; Knights, 1373. 2 Meno, 91, C. 186 SOCRATES. Chap. teacher of the modern sophistic school, but the evil _1 effects of his teaching were discernible in several of his pupils, and principally in Critias and Alcibiades. 1 Under such circumstances, what is more easy to be understood, than that those who were interested in the restoration of a popular form of government, and of the ancient glory of Athens, should regard him as a corrupter of youth, and a dangerous citizen ? Thus he fell a victim to the republican reaction which set in after the overthrow of the thirty tyrants, although his political views were not in themselves the principal causes which provoked the attack. His guilt was supposed to consist in undermining ancient customs aud piety. From this the anti-republican tendency of his teaching was supposed to follow as a secondary consequence, and for this it also served as an occa- sional manifestation. C. Just- How do matters then really stand in regard to the sentence justice of his accusation 2 and of the sentence to which 1 How miich this circumstance unimportant, and the learned contributed towards the condem- Apologia Socratis contra ZNIeliti nation of Socrates is proved by redivivi Calumniam, by P. van Xen. Mem. i. 2, 12, as well as by Limburg Erouwer (Gron. 183S), the above-mentioned authority, is deficient in insight into the JEschines. general questions involved, and 2 ItiswellknownthatHegelhas is inferior to the treatise of defended it on the side of Greek Preller, although many of its de- law, and Dresig, a hundred years tails are valuable. Luzac, despite earlier, maintained in a very his usual learning, does little superficial treatise, that Socrates, for the question. But Grote's as an opponent of a republican remarks on the extenuating cir- government, had been justly con- cumstances, which do not al- demned. Porehhammer goes a together justify but excuse the great deal further in his treatise, condemnation of Socrates, are and so does Denis. The answer deserving of all attention. Grote, of Heinsius to Forchhammer is Hist, of Greece, viii. 678, 653. JUSTICE OF THE SENTENCE. 187 it led? And what must be thought of the modern Chap. attempts to justify them? Most of the charges which '__ were preferred against Socrates, rest undeniably on (?) Un ~ x ° " jounded misunderstandings, perversions, or false inferences, charges. Socrates is said to have rejected the Grods of the (a)lnrela- state, although we have seen this contradicted by teaching, all historical testimonies. 1 He is said to have sub- l ffo> and -i-i't^ • • -i* i ii influence. stituted his Dsemomum m their place, although he neither put it in the place of the Gods, nor sought by it to encroach on the ground of the oracles. It was a private oracle over and above, not instead of those recognised by the state; and in a country where divine revelations were not the exclusive pro- perty of the priesthood, a private oracle could be re- fused to no one. 2 He is said to have been devoted to the atheism of Anaxagoras, 3 although he expressly declared it to be absurd. He is said by Aristo- phanes to have given instruction in the rhetorical display of the Sophists — a charge so untrue, that 1 Forchhammer repeats the how much private divination was charge without proof, as if its practised besides appealing to truth were obvious of itself, and public oracles. he speaks of orthodoxy and 3 Not only Aristophanes but heresy like a modern theologian. Meletus brings this charge against But a Greek thought far less of him in Plato. If Forchhammer belief than of outward service, and considers it incredible that Me- hence Xenophon, Mem. i. 1, 2, letus should have given such a refutes the charge by an appeal careless reply to Socrates, he to the fact, that he had sacrificed forgets that it is always the to the Gods, way of the world to confound 2 Xenophon therefore refers relative with positive atheism, to the Daemonium (Mem. i. 1, 2) doubts about particular religious as a proof of Socrates' belief in notions with the denial of all the Gods, and Plato compares religion. This is quite universal his revelations with the prophecies in the nations of antiquity, and of Euthyphro (Euthyphro, 3, B). therefore the early Christians were It is known from other sources, called &Qeoi. 188 SOCRATES. X. Chap. even Meletus did not venture to bring it against him. He is blamed for having been the teacher of Critias and Alcibiades, to which even Xenophon justly re- plied 1 that these men did not learn their vices from Socrates, nor fall into them until after they had been separated from him. Allowing, too, that a teacher ought to instil into his pupils a permanent love for what is good, 2 is it his fault if he does not succeed in particular cases ? The value of any instruction can only be estimated by its collective effects, and these bear as bright a testimony to the value of the instruction of Socrates as any that can be produced. A man whose beneficial influence was not only felt by many individuals, 3 but by whom a new foundation for morals was laid which served its purpose for centuries, was, as a matter of course, no corrupter of youth. Objection has been taken to the verses of Hesiod, by which Socrates sought to pro- mote useful activity; 4 but Xenophon has already shown that he is not to blame for the use that was made of them. He has been accused of teaching men to despise parents and relations, because he main- tained that knowledge alone constituted worth; 5 but surely this is a most unfair inference from principles, which had a simple meaning in his mouth. Any one who tells his pupil that he must learn in order to become a useful and estimable man, is surely doing what is right. None but the most bigoted could 1 Mem. i. 2, 12. 4 Mem. i. 2, 56 ; Plato, Char. 2 Forchhainmer, p. 43. 163, B. 3 Plato's Apol. 33, D., mentions 5 Mem. i. 2, 49. a whole string. UNFOUNDED CHARGES. 189 blame the wish to make sons wiser than their fathers. Chap. If Socrates had spoken with scorn of the ignorance " of parents, or set lightly by the duty of children, it would have been a different thing; but he was far from so doing. 1 It may possibly be replied that one who judged the worth of a man simply and solely by his knowledge, and who at the same time found everybody deficient in knowledge, was making his pupils self-conceited, and teaching them to consider themselves above all authority by their own imagi- nary knowledge. But at the same time that Socrates overrated the value of knowledge, he practically anticipated the inference to which this over-estimate might lead, above all endeavouring to make his friends conscious of their own want of knowledge, and laying no claim to knowledge himself, but only professing to pursue it. Xo fear that any one imbued with this spirit of humility and modesty, would abuse the teaching of his master. For a misconception of his teaching and all its consequences Socrates is as little responsible as any other teacher. Another point which is touched upon in the ju- {^Charges dicial proceedings is of more moment — the relation ( ^ edin 9 L ° his posi- 1 Conf. 3Iem. ii. 2, 3. A ought to know the circumstances further charge is connected with better. In the single fact there the above, viz.,, that he induced mentioned, that of the son of many young men to follow him Anytus, the historical character rather than their parents in of which appears doubtful. So- culture. Xen. (Apology) allows crates probably did not set the it, and attempts to justify it. son against his father, but urged But to decide whether it is an the father to give him a better established fact, and whether education, or else expressed him- Socrates is here to blame (it is self to a third party to that quite possible) we need more effect, trustworthy authorities, and we 190 SOCRATES. Chap. of Socrates himself to the Athenian democracy. As " is well known, Socrates considered the existing con- honto stitution a complete failure. He would not have wards the L state. places of power in the state determined by lot or by election, but by the qualification of the individuals ; and he occasionally expressed opinions respecting the multitudes who thronged the Pnyx and filled the theatre, which certainly had a great deal of truth in them, but came very near treason against the sove- reignty of the people. 1 It was but natural that his accusers should make use of such expressions, and that they should influence the judges. But to blame existing institutions boldly is by no means treason. Some Grecian states may have confined the liberty of speech within very narrow limits, but at Athens the freedom of thought and of speech was unlimited, and formed an essential portion of the republican constitution. The Athenians regarded it as an inalienable right and were proud to be distin- guished by it from every other state. 2 In the time of the most violent party quarrels there is no instance of interference with either political views or political teaching. The outspoken friends of a constitution like that of Sparta could openly adhere to their colours, so long as they refrained from actual attacks on the existing state of things; and was Socrates 1 In Mem. iii. 7, Socrates sideration. The charge pre- attempts to relieve Charmides of ferred by the accuser, Mem. i. 2, his dread of appearing in public 58, that Socrates thought it was by reminding him, that the reasonable for the rich to abuse people whom he was afraid of, the poor, is clearly a misrepre- consisted of peasants, shoe- sentation. makers, pedlars, &c, and there- 2 Compare Plato, G-org. 461, E. fore did not deserve such con- UNFOUNDED CHARGES. 191 not to be allowed the same privilege? 1 Nothing, Chap. however, in the shape of actual deeds could be laid to x his charge. He had never transgressed the laws of the state. His duties as a citizen had been consci- entiously fulfilled. His avowed opinion was that man must live for the state and obey its laws. He was no partizan of the oligarchical faction. On the con- trary, he had twice hazarded his life, once to rescue the victors at Arginusse — good democrats — from the extrajudicial mercies of an infuriated populace, the other time to avoid an unjust command of one of the thirty tyrants. His school, too, in as far as it can be called a school, had no decided politial bias. If the greater number of his pupils belonged to the upper classes, 2 and hence were naturally in favour of the aristocratic party, there were others amongst his most intimate friends, 3 who were companions of Thrasybulus. Most of his adherents however seem to have taken no decided line in politics. In reference again to the political inactivity which has been laid to his charge in modern times, different views may be held, varying with the different sides from which it is regarded. We are inclined to praise him for continuing faithful to his higher calling and not wasting his powers and his life on a career, in which he would have attained no success, 1 Grote's reference to the Pla- Kep. viii. 557, B., reckons freedom tonic state, in which no freedom of speech among the evils of a of individual opinion was allowed, democracy, his type of which is not altogether to the point, was the Athenian form of govern - The fundamental ideas of Plato's ment. state are different to those then 2 Plato, Apol. 23, C. prevailing in Athens. Plato, 3 Ibid. 21, A. 192 SOCRATES, Chap. and for which his character unfitted him. But what- ever view may be taken, it is certainly not a punish- able offence to avoid a statesman's career ; least of all when he who avoids it is convinced that he can be of more service to the state in other ways. To help the state in his own way was to Socrates an object of the highest and deepest interest. His political theories might not correspond with the existing state of things, but his character as a citizen must be admitted to be pure ; and according to the laws of Athens, he was guilty of no crime against the state. 1 (b) Eela- The political views of Socrates were not the only twn bome -j-^Qgg which gave offence. His whole attitude was, lyy /lis theory to as Hegel has shown, 2 at variance with the ground JSfSSr' 0CCU P ied b y the old Greek morality. The moral life of Greece, like every national form of life, rested originally on authority. It relied partly on the un- questioned authority of the laws of the state, and partly on the all-powerful influence of custom and education, regarding general convictions as the un- written laws of God, which no one could trace to a definite origin. To oppose this traditional morality'was a rash and self-conscious act, an offence against God and the state. A doubt with regard to its possible justification never occurred to any one, and was 1 At an earlier period it might law had long fallen into disuse, if have given offence, if Socrates indeed it had ever been in force ; appeared to hold aloof from the and who can blame Socrates for political party questions of his remaining neutral when he could time, and an appeal might have conscientiously side with none of been made to the old law of the conflicting parties? Perhaps Solon threatening neutrals in it was a political narrowness, but case of an internal quarrel with it was not a crime, loss of civil rights. But this - Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 81. morality. HIS RELATION TO THE ANCIENT MORALITY. 193 permitted to none. For this very reason, the need Chap. of an enquiry into the foundations of morality was ' never felt, nor was the duty recognised of proving its necessity, or of supporting it by an appeal to personal conviction. Socrates, however, demanded the enquiry. With (a) Per- sonal conviction him nothing might be believed, and nothing might be done, until men were fully convinced of its substituted . tot defer- truth or expediency. For him it was not enough to mce to have a definite course, universally recognised and authority. legally established. The individual was required to think out each subject for himself, and to discover its reasons : true virtue and right actions are only possible when they spring from personal conviction. Hence his whole life was spent in examining the current notions regarding morals, in testing their truth, and seeking for their reasons. This examin- ation brought him in nearly all points to the same principles as those which were established by custom and opinion ; and if his notions were clearer and better expressed, this advantage was one which he shared in common with the best and wisest of his contemporaries. Just as little can he be charged with imperilling public morality, by making expedi- ency its foundation : for in this he was following the customary practice. But, nevertheless, tried by the standard of the old Greek morality, his position seems very critical. In the first place the ordinary code of morals, and the received rules of conduct resting on authority and tradition, were by him de- 1 Plato, Apol. 29, C. 194 SOCRATES. Chap. prived of their chief value. They were so much • depreciated in the face of knowledge, and of the conscious virtue of Socrates, that not only was a shock given to the self-love of individuals, but the actual validity of the laws was called in question. If man has only to follow his convictions, he will agree with the popular will only when, and in as far as, it agrees with his convictions. If the two come into collision, there can be doubt, which he will follow. This is candidly avowed by Socrates in his defence, in his celebrated declaration that he would obey- God rather than the Athenians. 1 And thus his principle was, even in theory, a sharp and pointed contrast to the older view. It was impossible to guarantee a perfect agreement between law and in- dividual convictions ; indeed it was highly improbable that such an agreement should always exist ; and, as a matter of fact, Socrates by his political views was undeniably opposed to the existing state of things. (j8) Less I n the next place it cannot be concealed that the importance w h le character of the Socratic philosophy is at attached to politics. variance with the preponderance given to the politi- cal interests, without which the Greek states could never, considering their limited range, have done so much that is famous in the history of the world. The duty of the individual towards the community was indeed recognised by Socrates to its full extent. When any of his friends showed ability for the task, he urged them to devote their attention to public affairs ; but as for those who were young and un- 1 Mem. iii. 6; iv. 2; Plato, Symp. 216, A. HIS RELATION TO THE ANCIENT MORALITY. 195 formed, it must have been deemed, from the point of Chap. x view of ancient Greece, a meritorious action to have ___ ; kept them back from appearing in public. The maxim that man must be clear about himself, and be sure of his own moral well-being before he interferes with that of others and with the com- munity ; l the conviction of Socrates that political activity was not only alien to his own character, but impossible in the then state of things, to a man of integrity ; 2 the whole inward turn which he gave to thought and action, his demand for knowledge of self, for moral knowledge, for self-training — all this could not but create in himself and his pupils a dis- inclination for political life. It could not fail to make the moral perfection of the individual the main point, while activity for the state — that highest and most immediate duty of a citizen according to the ancient view — was reduced to a subordinate position. And, lastly, assuming that Socrates was himself {y) Hs fully persuaded of the injustice of the charge that subversive he rejected the Grods of his country, his theory, it °f re ^ must be admitted, imperilled the belief in their ex- istence. A consistent development of what he was introducing, and an application of his method to religious questions, in order to discover what people understood by religion, was alone needed to bring about the same result as in politics ; and in the case of Antisthenes this result was actually seen in religion. This is also true of his daemonium : as a kind of oracle it had indeed a place on the ground 1 Plato. 2 Id., Apol. 31, C. o 2 X. 196 SOCRATES. Chap. of the Greek faith, but by its internal character it made the decision depend on the subject instead of depending on external portents and other signs. And yet how dangerous was this proceeding in a country in which oracles were not only a religious but a political institution ? How easily might others be led to imitate the example of Socrates, following, however, their own criticism instead of an unde- fined inward feeling, and thus thinking little of belief in the Gods or of their utterances ? We may indeed be convinced that Socrates was in the right in all these points, and it is quite true that he was the precursor and founder of our moral view of the world; but how could this new idea of right be admitted by any one who held the traditions of the ancient Greek morality? How could a state built upon these traditions allow such an idea to be spread, without commiting an act of suicide ? There- fore, even while we remember that Socrates laboured and taught in his simple manner, not in the Sparta of Lycurgus, but in Athens and amongst the genera- tion that had fought at Marathon, we shall still find it quite natural for the state to endeavour to combat his work. For Athens was absolutely ignorant of that freedom of personal conviction, which Socrates required, nor could she endure it. 1 In such a 1 To say that the line adopted of Greece. For not only did he by Socrates was not opposed to express disapproval of appointing the constitution of Solon, as by lot to public offices, which was Georgii asserts, is not correct, an institution later than Solon's Nor can it be said that Socrates time, but he disliked fhe popular required a return to the old life elections of Solon ; and his prin- HIS RELATION TO THE MORALITY OF HIS TIME. 197 community the punishment of an innovator could Chap. cause no surprise. For was not a dangerous doc- ' trine, according to old notions, a crime against the state? And if the criminal resolutely refused to obey the sentence of the judges, as Socrates actually did, how could the penalty of death fail to follow ? To one who starts from the old Grecian view of right and the state, the condemnation of Socrates cannot appear to be unjust. 1 It is another question whether Athens then had a ( which all its institutions tend, 3 is the strength and wealth of its sovereign and the aristocracy. And even this view is very imperfectly carried out, and many important departments of government are alto- gether omitted. 4 His smaller treatise on family life is more successful. It bears witness to an intelli- gent mind and a benevolent heart, which shows itself in particular in the position assigned to woman 5 and in the treatment of slaves. 6 But it makes no preten- sions to be a philosophical treatise, though it may con- tain many Socratic thoughts. 7 The history of philo- sophy can therefore gain but little from Xenophon. pi aj»_ c h^~ _Eschines 8 would appear to have treated the teach- 1 Cyrop. i. 2, 2 ; viii. 8, 13 ; vii. also the expressions already quoted 5, 72. about woman. 2 A weak echo of the principle 8 iEschines, son of Lysanias, of Socrates is found i. 4, 3. (Plato, Apol. 33 E. (against whom 3 Compare viii. 1, The treaty Diog. ii. 60, can have no weight). between Cyrus and the Persians, is praised for his adherence to viii. 5, 24, has for its object, Socrates (Diog. ii. 31 ; Senec. security by the advantages of Benef. i. 8). Plato mentions him government. (Phsedo, 59, R. ), among those who 4 Compare the spirited remarks were present at the death of of Mohl, G-esch. d. Staatswissen- Socrates. Idomeneus however, sehaft, i. 204. 5 C. 3, 13. (Diog. ii. 60, 35 ; iii. 36), trans- 6 12, 3; 14, 9 ; c. 21 ; 7, 37 ; 41. ferred to him the part played 7 The maxim that nothing is by Crito in Plato, probably out of good of which the right use is spite to Plato. We afterwards not understood, belongs here, and encounter him in the company of SIMMIAS AXJD CUBES. 209 ing of Socrates in the same way. The writings of Chap. this disciple/ are reckoned among the best models _ of Attic prose. 2 By some these writings are preferred to those of Xenophon. 3 It is moreover asserted that they reproduce the spirit of Socrates with wonderful fidelity, 4 and the few fragments which are preserved of them confirm these statements. But they appear to have been singularly poor in real philosophic thought. Their strength consisted far more in the grace and elegance of their language than in an in- dependent treatment of the Socratic teaching. The two Thebans, Simmias 5 and Cebes, 6 would D. Sim- seem to have been true philosophers ; they were both Ceb '^ pupils of Philolaus, 7 and are described by Plato 8 as the vouns:er Dionvsius (Diog. ii. 61; 63; Plat. Adul. et Am. c. 26; Philost. v. Apollon. i. 35; Lucian, Paras, c. 32). to whom he had been recommended by Plato, according to Plutarch, by An- stippus according to Diogenes. Aristippus appears as his friend in Diog! ii. 82 : Pint. Coh. Ira, 14. Poor to begin with (Diog. ii. 34. 62) he was still poor in after-life on his return to Athens. He did not venture it is said to found a school, but delivered a few speeches and treatises for money (^Diog. ii. 62). Whether the dirty stories are true which Lysias in Athen. xiii. 611, lays to his charge, is an open question. His writings according to Athen. would lead us to expect an honourable man. The time of his death is not known. 1 According to Diog. ii. 61, 64. Plirynichus in Phot. Biblio- thek, these were considered to be genuine. The scanty remains of them have been collected by Hermann, De ^schin. Socr. Eeli- quiis. G-ott. 1850. 2 Longin. irepl 6vp4$. ; Ehet. G-r. ix. 559. 5 Phrynich. in Phot. Cod. 61 ; Hermogenes, Form. Orat. ii. 3 ; Ehet. Gr. iii. 394. He is said to have imitated Gforgias in speak- ing, Diog. ii. 63. 4 Aristid. Or. xlv. p. 35. Hence the story (Diog. ii. 60, 62 ; Athen. xiii. 611), that his speeches had been composed by Socrates, and given to him by Xanthippe. Diog. ii. 47 ranks him among the most distinguished followers of Socrates. 5 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 48 ; iii. 11, 17 ; Plato, Phsedo, 59, C, 63 A. 6 Mem. : Phaedo, 59. C, 60, C. 7 Phsedo, 61. D. 8 It is said (Phaedo, 242. B.), that Simmias. delivered and com- posed more philosophical speeches 210 THE SO CR A TIC SCHOOLS. Chap. XI. thoughtful men; but nothing certain is known of their opinions or their logical affinities. The writings attributed to them 1 were rejected even byPansetius 2 as far as he knew them, and the single one extant, known as the ' Mirror' of Cebes, is certainly spu- rious. 3 Still less can any dependence be placed on the writings which were circulated at a later time under the name of the shoemaker Simon. 4 He is probably altogether an imaginary person. 5 In addition to Plato, four founders of Socratic schools are known to us : Euclid, Phsedo, Antisthenes, and Aristippus. The two former are much alike, but the others followed courses peculiar to themselves. than any one else. In the Phaedo, 85, C, he is made to utter the maxim, that every question should be pursued as far as possible. Of Cebes, it is said (Phsedo, 63, A., 77, A.), that he could always raise objections, and was the most inveterate doubter; and the part which he and Simmias play in the Phsedo. corresponds with this description. 1 Diog. ii. 124, mentions twen- ty-three lectures of Simmias and three of Cebes, including the Mirror. 2 Diog. ii. 64: ttclvtw fxivroi rwv ^(tiKpcLTLKoov ZiaXoycav Ylavai- rios a\7)6e?s eivcu Sokc? robs U\d- roovos, 'Eevocpcouros, 'AvriaOtvovs, Alo~xw° v ' 8i(Fra£ei 5e irept tqov Qaihoovos kcl\ EiwAeiSou, rovs 8e &AKovs avaipei iravras. 3 In modern times there have been supporters of its genuine- ness, for instance, Bahr and Schweighauser ; but their assump- tion is refuted by two passages in it, one of which mentions a Peripatetic, and the other quotes a word from Plato's Laws. In other respects too, notwithstand- ing a general want of definiteness, traces appear of later times, e.g. Stoic morality and attacks on false culture. 4 See Diog. ii. 122 ; Suid. 2«- koolttis' Epist Socrat. 12, 13; Plut, c. Prin. Philos. c. 1 ; Bockh, in Plat. Minoem. 42. 5 What Diogenes says of him is unsatisfactory, and the story that Pericles asked to be taken in by him, but that he refused, besides being chronologically suspicious, is hardly likely to be true. Of the dialogues attri- buted to him a great part are found in writings belonging to other people. It is suspicious, that he is not mentioned by any ancient authority, and that both Plato and Xenophon should be silent about an old and very remarkable pupil of Socrates. THREE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. 211 Thus there arose three distinct kinds of Socratic Chap, XI Schools : the Megarian-Elean, the Cynic, and the ' Cyrenaic. These are all descended from Socrates, but are one-sided in their aims ; and since they hold aloof from earlier systems, they only imperfectly reproduce the spirit of the teaching of Socrates, and deviate from him and from one another in the most opposite directions. The highest duty of man was, by Socrates, placed in the knowledge of the good. What that good was he could not determine more accurately, but he was partly satisfied with a prac- tical view of it, and was partly restricted to a theory of relative pleasure. These various sides of his phi- losophy now diverge, and are rounded into systems. One party confines itself to the general burden of the teaching of Socrates — the abstract idea of the good. Others start from pleasure, making it the gauge of the good, and the good itself something relative. Again within the former class some make the theo- retical, others the practical treatment of the good, to be the main point. Thus the Socratic teaching gave rise to the three Schools just named, which in so far as they bring into prominence individual elements in the spirit of Socrates, revert to older lines of thought, long since passed in the historical develop- ment of philosophy. The Megarians and Cynics go back to the Eleatic doctrine of the One and All, and to the sophistry of Grorgias; the Cyrenaics to the negative teaching of Protagoras, and to the early scepticism of Heraclitus. p2 212 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. CHAPTEE XII. THE MEGAKIAN AND THE ELEAN-EEETRIAN SCHOOLS. Chap. XII. Hie Megarians. A. History of the School. The founder of the Megarian school l is Euclid. 2 A faithful friend and admirer of Socrates, 3 but at the same time intimately acquainted with the Eleatic 1 Deycks, DeMegaricorum Doc- trina, Bonn, 1827, whose carefnl work has not been added to by Mallet's Histoire de 1'Ecole de Megare, Par. 1845. More inde- pendent but sometimes too diffuse is Henne, Ecole de Megare, Par. 1843. Eitter, TIeber die Philoso- phie der Meg. Schule. Hartstein, Ueber die Bedeutung der Meg. Schule fiir die Gesch. d. Meta- phys. Prautl, Gesch. d. Logik, i. 33, which enters most deeply into the logical teaching of the Megarians. 2 Euclid's home whs Megara, (Plato, Thesetet. ; Phsedo, 59, C); that it was his birth-place is asserted by Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 129 ; Strabo, ix. 1 ; Diog. ii. 106. The statement that he came from G-ela (rives in Diog.) must rest on a misunderstanding. Deycks imagines it arose from confound- ing him with Euclid the jester. Henne conjectures, but without sufficient reason, that he was educated at Gela, The time of his birth cannot be accurately determined. He was however probably older than Plato. This seems to be attested by the fact, that on the death of Socrates he served for some time as a centre to his disciples. The time of his death is also uncertain. If Stilpo and Pasicles were his personal pupils, he must have lived at least till 360 B.C. But very little is known of him. A cele- brated utterance of his to his brother, which bears witness to a gentle character, is quoted by Pint, de Ira, 14 ; Frat. Am. 18"; Stob. Flor. 84, 15. Diog. ii. 108, mentions six discourses of his. 3 The story told by GelL, N. A. vi. 10, of his nightly visits to Athens is well known. It cannot, however, go for much, though not in itself improbable. On the contrary, it may be gathered from Plato's Thesetet. 142, C. that Euclid constantly visited Socrates from Megara, and from the Phsedo, 59, C. that he was present at his death. A further proof of his close connection with the fol- lowers of Socrates will be found in the fact (Diog. ii. 106 ; iii. 6) HISTORY OF THE MEGARIAXS. 213 doctrine, 1 Euclid made use of the latter, to develope the Socratic philosophy in a way peculiar to himself. He thus established a separate branch of the Socratic School, 2 which continued until the early part of the third century. 3 Ichthyas 4 is named as his pupil and successor, but nothing further is known of him. 5 Of greater note was Eubulides, 6 the celebrated dia- lectician/ who wrote against Aristotle, 8 and who is Chap. XII. that Plato and other followers of Socrates stayed with him for a considerable time after the death of their master. He is usually spoken of as a disciple of Socrates, and has a place amongst his most distinguished disciples. 1 As may be gathered from his system with greater certainty than from Cic, and Diog. When Euclid became acquainted with the Eleatic Philosophy is un- certain. It is most probable that he was under its influence before he came under that of Socrates, although the story in Diog. ii. 30 is too uncertain to prove much. 2 Called Megarian or Eristic or Dialectic, Diog. ii. 106. Con- sult Deyck about these names. He proves that the terms Eristic and Dialectic were not confined to the Megarian School. Com- pare Sextus Empiricus, who gene- rally understands by Dialecti- cians, Stoics, for instance, Pyrrh. ii. 146, 166, 229, 235. 3 How early Euclid was at the head of a special circle of pupils, and whether he appeared formally as a Sophist, or like Socrates only gradually gathered about him men desirous to learn, we are not told. Perhaps the emigration of many followers of Socrates to Megara gave occasion for the establishment of this school, i. e. to the formation of a society, which at first moved about Euclid's house and person, busying itself with discussions. It is no where stated, that Plato and his friends removed to Megara, attracted by the fame of the School of Euclid, as Henne maintains, p. 27. 4 Suid. EuKAeiSrjs— Diog. ii. 112, only makes the general re- mark, that he belonged to the School of Euclid. 5 His name is still found in Diog. ii. 112; vi. 80 (Diogenes dedicated to him a dialogue called Ichthyas). Athen. viii. 335. 8 From Miletus according to Diog. ii. 108. Whether he was the head of a school, or whether he was an immediate disciple of Euclid, we do not know : So- crates only says, rrjs 5 s Eu/cAei5ou diadoxys icri xal Eu/8. 7 Compare Diog. ii. 108; Sext. Math. vii. 13. 8 Diog. ii. 109 ; Aristocles in Eus. Pr. Ev. xv. 2, 5 ; Athen. viii. 354, b. Themist. Or. xxiii. 285, c. From these passages it is seen that the attack of Eubulides on Aristotle was very violent, and 214 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. XII. mentioned as the teacher of Demosthenes. 1 Cotem- porary with him were Thrasymaehus 2 of Corinth, and Dioclides, 3 perhaps also Clinomachus. 4 Pasicles 5 however, would appear to be younger. Apollonius of Cyrene, surnamed Cronus, 6 the teacher of the sharp-witted Diodorus Cronus, 7 was also a pupil of Eubulides, and another of his pupils was Euphantus, who is only known to us as a poet and historian. 8 The not free from personal abuse. We also hear from Athen. x. 437 of a comedy of Eubulides. But he can hardly be the individual whose work on the Cynic Dio- genes is quoted by Diog. vi. 20, 30. 1 The fact seems pretty well established (although it is con- spicuously omitted by Plutarch in his life of Demosthenes), being not only attested by Diog. li. 108 ; Pseudoplut. v. Dec. Orat. viii. 21 ; Apulei. De Mag. c. 15 ; Suid. ArifjLoo-dei/ris, and Phot. Cod. 265, but being also alluded to by the Comedian in Diog., who can hardly have spoken of a bare acquaintance as a disciple. 2 According to Diog. ii. 121, a friend of Ichthyas, and a teacher of Stilpo' s. 3 Suid. ^t'iAttoov, a pupil of Euclid and the teacher of Pasicles. 4 ATmrrian (according to Diog. ii. 13 2), and a teacher of Stilpo's son Bryso, Suid. Uvppoop. Diog. says he was the first to write about predicates, sentences, and such like. 5 The relations of this man are not clear ; Diog. vi. 89, calls him a pupil of Euclid, and a brother of the Cynic Crates, both of which are hardly compatible. Suid. ^riXiroot/ calls him a dis- ciple of his brother Crates and of Dioclides, and the teacher of Stilpo. 6 Diog. ii. Ill ; Strabo, xiv. 2, 21 ; xvii. 3, 22. 7 Diodorus a native of Iasos in Caria (Diog. and Strabo ex- plain the name Cronus in various ways), belongs to the most dis- tinguished dialecticians of the Megarian School. Cic. De Fato, 6, 12, calls him ' valens dialecticus' ; Sext, Math. i. 309, SxoAe/rri/cdj- raros ■ Sext. and Diog. ii. Ill, give two epigrams of Callimachus addressed to him. His fallacies and his researches into motion, and into hypothetical sentences, will be mentioned hereafter. Pique at a dialectical defeat in- flicted by Stilpo at the table of Ptolemy Soter, is said to have killed him (Diog. ; Plin. His. Nat. vii. 53, 18). He bequeathed his dialectic to his five daughters Clem. Al. Strom, iv. 523, A. Hieron. adv. Jovin. i. t. iv. 186 see Steinhart. 8 All we know of him is from Diog. ii. 110, who calls him the tutor of King Antigonus, and to Antigonus he addressed a book, irepl pa7r' avr&p aAi}- Oeiav Kara (T/xiKpa oiaQpavovres iv toTs Aoyois yeveav &ut' ovcias cpepo/JLei/rju riva irpocrayopevovcnv. 1 Platon's Werke, ii. 2. 2 Ast, Platon's Lebenu. Schrei- ben, 201 ; Deycks, 37 ; Heindorf on Soph. 246, B. ; Brandis, ii. a., 114; Hermann, Plat. 339; Stall- bauin, Plat. Parm. 60 ; Steinhart, Allg. Encyk. i. 29, 53 ; Platon's Werke, iii. 204, 554 ; Henne, Ecole de Megare, 84-158 ; Prautl, G-esch. d. Log. i. 37. Against Schleiermacher are Hitter, Peter- sen, and Mallet. Henne refers the description in Thesetet. 185, C. of the formation of conceptions, to the Megarians, on the ground that it does not agree with Plato's own method. But it would seem that he is wrong in doing so, since we have no reason to think of others besides Plato and So- crates. Just as little may the passage in Parm. 131, B. be re- ferred to the Megarians, as has been done by Schleiermacher, PI. Werke, i. 2, 409, and Deycks, p. 42. The question whether things participate in Ideas, is one which the Megarians did not examine, and it is widely remote from the view discussed in the Sophistes. 3 The following are the rea- sons. It is clear and generally allowed that Plato's description is too minute to be without re- ference to some philosophic School then existing. There is also de- finite reference to a Socratic School in the passage where an opinion is attributed to certain philosophers, to the effect that true existence only belongs to immaterial things. A philosophy of conceptions was unknown before the time of So- crates, and the description agrees with no one of the pre-Socratic School s . The philosophers of con- ceptions are distinguished from the Eleatics, and are manifestly quite different from them. Still less can the Pythagoreans be thought of, as Mallet has done ; for they had neither a philosophy MEGARIANS.— BEING AND BECOMING. 219 By making use of the evidence of Plato, and by con- Chip. sidering the internal connection of their indivi- '__ dual theories, we hope to construct a picture of the Megarian doctrine, which shall, in the main, faith- fully represent the facts upon which it has been con- structed. The starting-point of the Megarian philosophy ( a ) Con- must be looked for in the search for a knowledge of fP twn °f ° being and conceptions which Socrates had insisted on. With becoming. of conceptions, nor did they in- dulge in those subtle arguments with their opponents, which Plato attributes to these philosophers. The statement of Plato, 246, C, cannot be quoted to prove the contrary. Speaking there of the dispute between the idealists and the materialists he says that: 4v /jLeccp Se irepl ravra dirAeros 6fJL(pOT€pccu f^dxv Tis del ^vvecTTT]- K€u. This does not mean that this dispute has always existed, but that it was as old as the Schools themselves, or that, every time the point was touched upon, a violent altercation ensued be- tween the parties. We are not obliged by this statement to refer this view to an earlier period than that of Socrates. And among the Socratic Schools there is none to which it can be attributed with so much probability as to the Megarian. To think that the pas- sage refers to Plato (as Socher, Plat. Schriften, 265, does)— to whom the description does not properly apply — would only be possible by considering the So- phistes to be a spurious dialogue, as Socher really does. On the other hand it cannot be imagined, (as Bitter would have it) that a School with a developed theory and a great importance for that time, should have remained un- known to us. We shall also find that all that Plato tells us about the philosophers of concep- tions agrees with what we other- wise know of the Megarians ; that many of his statements (the denial of motion, and the critical explain- ing away of the corporeal) depict most tellingly the well-known peculiarity of this School ; whilst others aptly supply what is other- wise unknown. It is, however, quite a mistake to assert, that Plato would not have spoken of the Megarians simply as d\\ws \4yovT6s. Certainly he would not have spoken of the 'friends of ideas,' with whom he had to do, no matter who they may have been, in a derogatory way ; for he always treats them with respect, but dXXus \4youT€s may be taken literally for ' those who speak dif- ferently,' with whom all does not turn, as with the Eleatics, upon the antithesis of being and not- being. This antithesis is not in- sisted on by these philosophers of ideas, but with them the distinc- tion between being and becoming is the most important. 220 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. this Euclid united the Eleatic doctrine of a differ- XII ^ ence between the knowledge derived from the senses and the knowledge derived from the reason. Be-' lieving that the difference between these two kinds of knowledge depended far more on the objects than on the form of knowledge, he arrived at the convic- tion that the senses show us what is capable of change and what comes into being, and that the mind alone supplies us with the knowledge of what is unchange- able and really exists. 1 He stood, therefore, in general, on the same footing as Plato, and it is possible that this view was arrived at by both phi- losophers simultaneously in their intellectual inter- course, and that Euclid was indebted to Plato for Heraclitus' view of a world of the senses. Socrates made the immediate business of the mind to be the acquisition of knowledge of conceptions, conceptions, according to him, representing the part of a thing which never changes. But in Euclid's view not material things, but only immaterial groups of things admit of true being. 2 Stilpo expressed the same view, when he refused to allow the general conception to apply to individual things, because the general conception implies something quite different 1 Plato, 248, A. : Teveo-iv, rrjv de?v ras fx\v al yevsaiv mean ' the bodies of those con- Se aWore aWoos. For this rea- ceptions,' e'tb-q aa-cofiara, but ' the son Aristoc. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. bodies of the materialists,' in 17. 1, says of the 3Iegarians and which they look for all real Eleatics together: ofovrai yap being. MEGARIANS.— BEING AND BECOMING. 221 from every individual thing, which was existing long before. 1 In this respect the Megarians again agree with Plato. 2 But in the sense of living spiritual forces — for as such Plato regarded his conceptional groups — conceptions were rejected by Euclid, following in the steps of Parmenides, who denied every kind of motion to being. By Parmenides, action and passion were reduced to the sphere of the becoming. Being, he asserted, could neither admit of action, of passion, nor even of motion. 3 Connected with this denial of the becoming is the assertion, probably belonging to Euclid, and cer- Chap. XII. 1 Diog. ii. 119, says of him: eA.6- ye, rbv Xeyoura &v&pa>Trov elvai /jltj- Zepa (in -which we suggest tlirelv instead of €hai) y ovrc ^ap rovde Xeyeiv ovre rovBe. ri yap /xaXXou tov$€ t) r6vdc ; ovre apa rovds. kol\ iraXiv ■ rb Xax^vov ovk icrn rb d€lKVV/JL€VOV. X6.XO.V0V fJL€V yap T\V irpb /jLvpiccv irwv ■ ovk apa iffrl rovro Kax avov ' Diogenes intro- duces this with the remark: Zzivbs 5e ayav kv iv rots ipicrriKo7>pT)r€ov ws our a .... jurJTe rcov %v 7) ko\ iroXKa 6^77 Ae- yovrcov rb Trap icrriKOS a7ro5e^e- o~9ai. — Aristocl. in Ens. Pr. Ev. xiv. 17, 1. The proofs by which the Megarians denied motion will be described hereafter. 222 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. tainly coming from his school, that capacity does ' not exist beyond the time of its exercise, in short, Good. that what is actual is alone possible. 1 What is simply possible would be a something, which at the same time is not. It would be the very contradiction which Parmenides thought that he discovered in the becoming, and the change from being possible to being actual would be one of those changes which Euclid could not harmonise with the conception of being. 2 In short, what is immaterial and un- changeable is alone allowed by him to be actual, and is alone admitted to be the object of science. (b) The The highest object of knowledge had been de- scribed by Socrates as the good. In this he was followed by Euclid. 3 But in regarding the highest 1 Arist. Metaph. ix. 3 : elcrl 5e 8iWr0cu, ivepyelv, do not establish rives ol (paaiu, olov oi MeyapLKol, a great deal. Aristotle often ex- OTQ.V ei/epyi] [ihvov dvvaadcu, c 6rav pressed the statements of others Se fA$) iuipyfj ov SvpacrOai. olov in his own terminology. On the rhv {XT) oLKo^ofxovvra ov huvacrOai other hand a too great impor- oIko$oijl6?i/, a\\a rbu olKo^ofxovvra tance for the system of Aristotle f 6rav olKoSofjLf) • dfjioicos 8e kclI iirl must not be attached to the Me- toov &\\wv. In refuting this, garian doctrine already quoted,' Aristotle observes that it would even if it comes from Euclid, make all motion and becoming It is only a peculiar way of un- impossible, which was just what derstanding the Eleatic doctrine the Megarians wanted. Further against becoming and motion, particulars on this point will 3 That his assertions about be quoted from Diodorus in the the good should have nothing to sequel. The passage in the So- do with the Socratic knowledge phistes, 248, C., which Henne (Hermann, Gres. Abhandlung, 242) connects with that of Aristotle, could only be accepted on the refers to something different. supposition that that knowledge 2 Hartenstein, p. 205, is of was not knowledge about the opinion that the above statement good, and that Euclid was not a is made in direct contradiction pupil of Socrates. Nor can it to Aristotle. It would in this be readily conceded that a purely case belong to Eubulides. But Eleatic philosopher, if he had only the Aristotelian technical terms moved in an ethical sphere of MEGARIANS.—THE GOOD. 223 object of knowledge as essentially real — a consistent Chap. course from his point of view — Euclid transferred to !_ the good all the attributes which Parmenides had assigned to real being. There is only one real good, unchangeable, and ever the same, of which our highest conceptions are only different names. Whether we speak of God, or of Intelligence, or of Keason, we always mean one and the same thing, the (rood. 1 Thus the moral goal, as Socrates had already shown, is one — the knowledge of the Good, — and if we speak of many virtues, all these are names of one and the same thing. 2 But what is the relation of other things to this one Good ? Even Euclid, as accounts tell us, denied any existence to what is not good ; 3 from which it follows immediately, that besides the Good nothing is real. This statement is attributed to ideas, would have treated this iroXkas elcrrjyev, ws 6 Zijucou, ovre part of philosophy in the same fxiav iroWols bv6fxa(Ti KaAov/j.4j/7)v, way as Euclid. As long as wj ol MeyapiKoi. That this one he remained a purely Eleatic virtue was the knowledge of the philosopher, he could not have good, appears not only from the taken this ethical direction and internal connection of the system have placed the conception of and its external relation to So- the good at the head of his crates, but also from Cicero and system. others, who assert : a Menedemo 1 Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 129 : autem . . . Eretriaci appellati; Megarici qui id bonum solum quorum omne bonum in mente esse dieebant, quod esset unum positum et mentis acie, qua et simile et idem semper [olov, verum cerneretur. Illi (the Me- e 6p.oLov tclvtov). Diog. ii. 106, garians) similia, sed, opinor, ex- says of Euclid : ovros ev to dyaBbv plieata uberius et ornatius. Conf. d,TT6(paiv€T0 iro\\o7s ovouacri kcl\ov- Plato, Rep. vi. 505, B., in which /j.€vov ore fiev yap <\>p6vT\aiv, ore Antisthenes is mentioned in ad- 5e Qeov, koX aWore vovv k8e %v 8e k6o~iaov Kpsirrov £cm ' iroLr)TiKoi/ a\pa na\ ypafxixarL- k6v eCTTlV 6 KOCTfJiOS. 3 Cic. N. D. iii. 8, 21; 10, 26; 11, 27. 4 Sext. Pyrrh. ii. 242; iii. 71; Math. x. 85. * Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 243, men- tions a similar argument against becoming in general, in immediate connection with the proof given above : Neither can what is come into being, for it exists already ; nor can what is not, for nothing can happen to it ; consequently nothing at all is. It is possible that this argument also belongs to Diodorus. But Steinhart is wrong in attributing to him ( Allg. Encykl. sect i. bd. xxv. p. 288) the distinction between spa ce in the wider and in the narrower sense, which is found in Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 75; Math. x. 95. since it would appear from these pas- sages, that the distinction was made with a view to meet Dio- dore's objections. 230 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. less accurate form of the same proof. 1 All that XII i moves is in space. "What is in space reposes, there- fore what is moved reposes. A third proof 2 proceeds by taking it for granted that there are infinitesimal atoms and particles. It is generally attributed to Diodorus, 3 but probably he only used it hypotheti- cally, as Zeno did his argument, to refute ordinary notions. 4 It is this : As long as the particle a is in the corresponding space A, it does not move, because it completely fills it. Just as little does it move when it is in the next following space, b ; for no sooner is it there than its motion has ceased. Accordingly it does not move at all. In this conclusion one cannot fail to discover the note of Zeno's inferences, and of that critical process which had been already described by Plato. The fourth proof, 5 besides assuming the existence of atoms, distinguishes between partial and complete motion. 6 Every moving body must first have the majority of its particles moved, before it can move altogether; and similarly it must first have the majority of that majority moved, and so on. Hence it follows, that when the division has come to an end, and there are say 10,000 particles, two of these must first move whilst the remainder are at 1 Sext. Math. x. 112. to Sext. Math. x. 85, was put in 2 Id. x. 143. such a shape as to prove, that 3 Id. ix. 362:Pyrrh. iii. 32; every atom fully occupied its Dionys. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 23, space; but this is unimportant 4 ; Stob. Ekl. i. 310, all of which here. refer to one common source. 5 Sext. Math. 113. Diodorus called these atoms a^epT?. 6 Kivrjais kclt e-KiKpareiav and 4 Even the first proof, according KivT\av. MEG ART AN CAPTIOUSNESS— DIODORUS. 231 rest. These two can clearly not overcome the rest. Chap. XII A movement of the majority of particles, there- \ fore, becomes impossible, and consequently that of the whole body. Motion is therefore inconceivable. Sextus has already noticed l that there are links wanting in this proof. Diodorus, however, appears to have considered the argument unanswerable, and hence, after all his researches, he concludes that it never can be said of a thing, It is moving, but only, It has moved ; 2 — in other words, he was prepared to allow what the senses seemed to prove, 3 that a body is now in one place and now T in another, but he declared the transition from the one to the other to be impossible. This is indeed a contradiction, and as such it was laid to his charge by the ancients, and by him very inadequately met. 4 At the same time it was a deviation from the original teaching of his school. Euclid absolutely denied motion, and would just as little have allowed a completed motion as a transition in the present. The argument of Diodorus to prove that nothing (#) On perishes, agrees in substance with the third of these f^ 7110 ' proofs. It is as follows. Wails, he says, do not perish ; so long as the stones keep together, they stand ; but when the stones are separated they are no longer there. 5 He appears, therefore, to have 1 Ibid. 112, 118. A further 2 Sext. Math. x. 48 ; 85; 91; argument, the first argument of 97-102. Zeno's is not attributed to Dio- 3 This reason is specially men- dorus by Sext. Math. x. 47. He tioned by Sext. Math. x. 86. only says as to its result, that 4 See Sext. 91, 97. Diodorus agreed therein with the 5 Sext. Math. x. 347. Eleatics. 232 TUB SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. equally allowed that it was possible for them to have ' perished. (7) On the His discussions on what is possible are closely Possible. re l a ted to the enquiry into motion. In both cases the possibility of change is the point raised, but in one case it is raised in reference to something, in the other abstractedly. In both cases, Diodorus stands on exactly the same footing with regard to his School. The older Megarians only allowed what actually is to be possible, understanding by actual what was before them in the present. To this Diodorus added what might be in the future, by saying : Possible is what either is actual or what will be actual. 1 In proof of this statement he gave an argument, which goes by the name of Kvpisvcov, and is still admired after centuries, 2 as a masterpiece of subtle criticism. It is in the main as follows : From anything possible nothing impossible can result; but it is impossible that the past can be different to what it is ; for had it been possible at a past moment, something impos- sible would have resulted from something possible. It was therefore never possible, and generally speak- 1 Cic. De Fato, 6, 12; 7, 13; a-o^KT/xdrLov eAucas, iroKv KOfxtyo- 9, 17; Ep. ad Div. ix. 4; Pint, rcpov rod Kvpievovros. He also Sto. Rep. 46 ; Alex. Aph. in mentions, ii. 19, 9, treatises of Anal. Pr. 59. The above sen- Clean thes, Chrysippns, Antipater, tence is expressed here thns : and Archidemus on the Kvpievwv. Possible is '6irep fj icrrip aArjdes rj Chrysippns conld only meet ecrTai. it (according to Alex, in Anal. 2 Comp. Epict. Diss. ii. 18, 18: Pr. 57, b. in Schol. to Arist. we ought to be prond of moral 163) by asserting that possibly actions, ovk inl t£ top Kvptevovra the impossible might result from ipwTr)o~ai, and just before: Ko^hv the possible. MEGARIAN CATTIOVSXESS— PHILO. 233 ing it is impossible that anything should happen Chap. differently to what has happened. 1 ' Philo, a pupil of Diodorus, was far less exacting (e) That of when he declared everything to be possible, even if ^ a \ Q n the compulsory outward circumstances should prevent it Possible. from being realised, 2 provided only the capacity for it pre-existed. This was undeniably a departure from the Megarian teaching. In regard to the truth of hypothetical sentences, (0) On Philo laid down criteria different to those of his Sjjf*" teacher. 3 Diodorus declared those conditional sen- fences, tences to be true, in which the protasis being accepted as true, there neither is nor can have been a false apodosis. Philo says more vaguely, those are true in which there is not a true protasis and a false apodosis. It appears however to have been merely a question of correctness in speaking of logical rules. 4 With Diodorus' view of what is possible the asser- (7) On the tion appears to be connected, that no words are ^ord™ 9 qf meaningless or ambiguous, each one having always a meaning and requiring to be taken in a particular sense. 5 The possible meaning of a word, is only that 1 Epict. Diss. ii. 19, 1 : 6 t ovr tariv aXifies ovt' earai. KvpiGv&v \6yos a-nb Toiovrccp rivuiv 2 Alex.-Simpl. in Categ.-Schol. acpopix&v 7}pccrrj(TdaL (paiveTai • kol- in Arist. 65, b, 5. 1/77S yap ovg7)s fiaxys ro7s rpurl 3 See Sext.Pyrrh.ii. 110; Math. tovtols Trphs a\\T]\a, too ' ttcip ira- viii. 113 ; i. 309 ; Cic. Acad. iv. peXrjXvdbs aArjdts avayncuov elveuf 47, 143. heal T'2 ' ^vvarco advvarov ^77 olko- 4 The inferences by which Kovdelv, 1 Kal tw ' SvvaTOv eJvai h Sextus M. viii. 115, refutes Philo, ovr eanu aXriBcs ovt ecrrat,' do not touch his real meaning at o-vui^cov tt)v \x6.xr\v ravTTjv 6 Aid- all, however much they may fol- dcopos t?7 to>j> TTpwTcov dvolv irida- low from the words of his defi- vott)ti ffw^xp^^ "Kpbs irapd- nition. crraciv rov /LnjSej/ elvai dvvarbv 5 Gell. xi. 12; A mm on, De III- 234 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. XII. (/) That of Stilpo, which adopted much from the Cynics, (a) Every combina- tion of one which is present to the speaker's mind. Our information, however, about Diodorus, and about the whole Megarian School, is far too scanty to enable us to bring the fragments of their teaching into a per- fectly satisfactory context, 1 even granting that enough is known to trace one and the same tendency in all these thinkers. It may then be assumed as probable, that the Megarians did not confine themselves to those logical subtleties which are known to us, but that our notices are too deficient for us to be able to attribute others to them with anything like certainty. 2 A peculiar position in the Megarian philosophy is occupied by Stilpo. Ever ready to defend the teaching of the School, at the head of which he stood, clinging to universal conceptions, maintaining the impossibility of becoming, the unity of being, and the difference between sensuous and rational percep- tions, 5 he at the same time combines with his Me- terpret. 32, a. In order to show that every word has a meaning, Diodorus, according to Amnion., gave the name aWafi^v to one of his slaves. 1 Hitter's conjectures seem in many respects to go beyond historical probability, and beyond the spirit of the Megarian teach- ing. To illustrate this here would take too long. 2 Prautl believes that the ma- jority of the sophisms enume- rated by Aristotle, really belong to the Megarians. Most of them, however, would appear to come from the Sophists, in proof of which a reference may be made to Plato's Euthydemus, which can hardly have the Megarians in view. Towards Euclid Plato would not have so expressed him- self ; as may be gathered from the Sophistes, 246, C, and the in- troduction to the Thesetetus ; and Eubulides had not appeared when Plato composed the Euthyde- mus. That the Megarians made use of many of the Sophistic fal- lacies, is of course not denied. Only nothing accurate is known about it. 3 Compare the passage in Aristocles, in which ol 7repl StiA- Troova. /cat robs MeyapiKovs are spoken of in addition to the Eleatics. MEGARIAX CAPTIO USNESS— STILPO. 23o garian views theories and aims which originally Chap. XII belonged to the Cynics. In the first place he rejected, as did Antisthenes, every combination of subject and subject and predicate, since the conception of the one is different rejected from the conception of the other, and two things with ^ l different conceptions can never be declared to be the same. 1 The doctrine of the unity of being, in as far as it can be shown to have originated with Stilpo, may be deduced as a corollary from this view; for if nothing can be predicated of anything else, it follows that being can alone be predicated of itself. Traces of Cynicism may be further seen in Stilpo's moral principles. The captious logic to which other Megarians devoted themselves with speculative one- sidedness, to the entire neglect of the ethical element, 2 was no less a characteristic of Stilpo, 3 and perhaps it ' Pint. adv. Col. 22, 1. The Epicurean Stilpo raises the ob- jection : tov Qehv avaipHo~$ai vir 3 avTov, XiyovTos erepou erepov jjA] KaT7iyopsi(r8ai. tt&s yap j3iu)(r6- /j.€6a. /j.7] XeyovTes avQpo)irov aya- Obv ctAA 5 avOpcoirov av- dpooirov kclL x u P ls ayaQbv ayaQov ; . . . and again : ov fir^v a\Xa to 4ttI ^tIXttCOVOS TOLOVTOV iffTLV. €i 7T€pl l7T7rOU TO Tp€X* lv KCLTrjyopOV- u,ev. ov (prjcri tovtov eivai tw 7repl ov K.a.T*r\yop€iTo.i to KaTriyopovfj-evov, aX\' €TepOV /J.€V avdpdoTrct) tov rt i\v €ivai tov Xoyov, €Tepov Se tw ayado) • /cat iraAiv to 'iirirov eivai tov TO^xovTa eivai dias ivapyrj irp6- Tacriv, otl a>v ot XoyoL ercpoi TavTa. eVepa £o~ti Kal otl to. €T€pa Ke- X&PtcrTai aXAyXoov, idoKOvv 5et- nvvvai avTov avrov Kex^p^jM^vov €Kao~Tov: i.e. since the conception of ^ocKpaTTjs fiovcriKos is a different one to that of ^oanpaT-Qs Aeu/co's-, the one according to Megarian hypotheses must be a different person to the other. 2 Excepting Euclid's doctrine of the oneness of virtue, nothing bearing on Ethics is known as belonging to the Megarians. 3 See Chrysipp. in Plut. Sto. Kep. 10, 11, p, 1036. 236 THE SO CR A TIC SCHOOLS. Chap. is only chance that no captious assertion or invention of his is on record. But not only is his character ($) The always mentioned by biographers with the greatest goodplaced respect, 1 but many stories are told of him, which in apathy, identify his morality with that of the Cynics. The highest good he placed in an apathy, forbidding the feeling of pain even to exist. The wise man was required to be in himself independent, and not even to stand in need of friends to secure happiness. 2 When Demetrius Poliorcetes enquired about his losses by the plunder of Megara, he replied, that he had seen no one carrying off his knowledge. 3 When reminded of the immoral life of his daughter, he rejoined, that if he could not bring honour on her, she could not bring disgrace on him. 4 Banishment he would not allow to be an evil. 5 To be independent of everything without, and to be absolutely free from wants- — this highest standard of Cynicism — was also his ideal. And lastly, the free attitude towards reli- gion adopted by the Cynics was also occupied by him, and expressed in many of his utterances. 6 1 See p. 215, note 1. quil. An. c. 17; Puer. Ed. c. 8 ; 2 Sen. Ep. 9, 1 : < An merito Sen. de Const, 5, 6 ; Epis. 9, 18; reprehendat in quadam epistola Diog. ii. 115. That Stilpo thereby Epicurus eos, qui dicunt sapi- lost his wife and daughter is entem se ipso esse contentum et probably a rhetorical exaggera- propter hoc amico non indigere tion of Seneca. desideras scire. Hoc objicitur 4 Plut. An. Tran. c. 6 ; Diog. Stilboni ab Epicuro et iis, quibus ii. 114. summum bonum visum est ani- 5 In the fragment in Stob. mus impatiens.' And a little Flor. 40, 8. further on: 'Hoc inter nos etillos 6 According to Diog. ii. 116, interest : noster sapiens vincit he proved that the Athene of quidem incommodum omne sed Phidias was not a God, and then sentit; illorum nesentitquidem.' before the Areopagus, evasively 3 Plutarch, Demet, c. 9 ; Tran- replied that she was not a 6ebs STILPO—THE ELEAX-ERETRIAN SCHOOL. 237 Whether he attempted to form a logical connection Chap. between the Cynic and Megarian theories, and if so, in what way the attempt was made, we are not (7) The . . Cynic and told. In itself it was not difficult. By asserting that Megarian no subject could admit a predicate, he approximated the °y es . to Euclid's hostile attitude against proof by analogy ; call?/ har- for this too rests on the general proposition that things 2J£ y dissimilar cannot be compared. This assertion is also quite in harmony with the negative criticism of the Megarian s, and if Euclid denied to the good any form of manifoldness, others might add, as Antisthenes really did, that the one and not the manifold could alone exist. Moreover from the oneness of the good the apathy of the wise man might be deduced, by considering that all else besides the good was unreal and indifferent. 1 The denial of the popular faith was also involved in the doctrine of the one, as it was first expressed by Xenophanes. There were not wanting, it is true, in the Cynic element adopted by Stilpo, points in which it approached the Megarian ; but it was a deviation from the original form of the Megarian teaching to allow explicitly such an element to exist. Closely connected with the Megarian school is the n. Mean- Elean-Eretrian, about which very little has come ^^/ m down to us. Its founder was Phsedo of Elis, 2 the A lts history. but a 0ea, and when Crates asked Philol. iv. 391. Phsedo, the scion him about prayers and sacrifices, of a noble Elean family, had been replied that these subjects could taken captive not long before the not be discussed in the streets. death of Socrates (probably 400 1 Conf. Diog. ii. 106. or 401 B.C. Preller concludes 2 See Preller's Phsedo's Life from Pha?do, 89, B., that he was and Writings ; Ehein. Mas. fur not eighteen years of age at the 238 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. XII. well-known favourite of Socrates. 1 On the death of his teacher, Phsedo collected a circle of disciples in his native town, who thence received the name of the Elean philosophers. 2 Plistanus is named as his suc- cessor, 3 in addition to whom Archipylus and Moschus are called his pupils. 4 Excepting their names we know nothing of them. By Menedemus and Ascle- piades, 5 the school was removed to Eretria, and it was 1 Compare for his relations to Socrates the Phaedo, 58, D. 89, H. 2 'HAeia/cof, Strabo, ix. 1, 8 ; Diog. ii. 105, 126. 3 Diog. ii. 105. 4 126. Perhaps these men were not immediate pupils of his. Since nothing is said of Mene- demus' studying under Plistanus, the latter we may suppose, was no longer alive. 5 The account given by Diog. ii. 125 of these philosophers in his life of Menedemus probably taken from Antigonus of Carystus and Heraclides Lembus, is as follows : Menedemus of Eretria, originally a tradesman, had been sent as a soldier to Megara. There he became acquainted with the school of Plato (Diog. says with Plato, but this is chronologically impossible) and joined it together with his friend Asclepiades, both of them (according to Athen. iv. 168) earning a living by working at night. Soon, however, they joined Stilpo at Megara, and thence went to Moschus and Ar- chipylus at Elis, by whom they were introduced to the Elean doctrines. Returning to their native city and becoming con- nected by marriage they con- tinued together in faithful friend- ship until the death of Ascle- time of the death of Socrates ; it may, however, be asked whether Phsedo followed Athenian customs in his dress), and employed as a slave in most humiliating ser- vices at Athens, until one of So- crates' friends (besides Crito, Cebes and Alcibiades are both mentioned, the latter certainly not being at Athens at the time, and probably not being alive) redeemed him at the intercession of Socrates. See Diog. ii. 31, 105: Suid. under $atic*)i/; Gell. K A. ii. 18 ; Macrob. Sat. i. 11 ; Lact. Inst. iii. 25, 15 ; Orig. c. Cels. iii. 67; Cic. KD.i. 33, 93; Athen. xi. 507, c. Preller not im- probably finds the source of the story in Hermippus, irepl rwv fUairpeipdveow iu iraifieia dovAwp. Most probably Phsedo left Athens on the death of Socrates. But whe- ther he at once returned home, or repaired with others to Euclid at Megara, is unknown. Diog. ii. 105, mentions two genuine and four spurious dialogues of his. His Zopyrus is even quoted by Pollux, iii. 18. Pan&etius seems to have had doubts about all the treatises. He is called by Gellius, ^philosophus illustris,' and his writings are spoken of as ( admo- dum elegantes.' Even Diog. ii. 47, enumerates him -among the most distinguished Socraticists. TEACHING OF ELEAN-ERETRIAN SCHOOL. 239 then called the Eretriaxi. 1 Flourishing as was its Chap. condition here for a time, it appears soon to have '___ died out. 2 Among its adherents there are only two, 3 Phaedo B. Re- and Menedemus, about whose opinions any infor- ^fr 8 mation is to be had, and what is known of them is little enough. By Tim on 4 Phaedo is classed with Euclid as a babbler, which points to an argumentative tendency. Perhaps, however, he may have meddled with Ethics 5 more than Euclid did. Menedemus appears to have been distinguished from the cotem- porary philosophers of captiousness, by directing his attention to life and to moral questions. He is, how- ever, described as a sharp and skilful disputant; 6 and it gives us the impression of captiousness, to hear that he only allowed affirmative judgments to piades, even after Menedemus certain Ctesibius as a pupil of had risen to highest rank in the Menedemus, but what he says of state, and had attained wealth him has nothing to do with phi- and influence with the Mace- losophy. A treatise of the Stoic donian princes. The sympathetic Sphserus against the Eretrian noble and firm character of Mene- School in 260 B.C. is the last trace demus, his pungent wit, his mo- of its existence. Diog. vii. 178. deration (Diog. ii. 139 ; Athen. 4 Diog. ii. 107. x. 419, e), his liberality and his 5 A short but clever fragment merits towards his country, are on the subject of morals, which a subject of frequent panegyric. Sen. Ep. 94, 41 quotes from Phse- Soon after the battle of Lysima- do, probably belongs to him. chia, which took place 278 B.C. 6 Diog. ii. 134: l\v 8e dwna- he died, possibly by suicide — the ravo^ros 6 M. kolI eV rep crvvQeffOai result of a grief which is dif- dvcaprayccvLcrros. icrTpecpero re ferently stated — at the age of irpbs itavTCLKaXevpecTLKoyeL' ipiom- seventy-four. According to Anti- raros re Kadd Uepl epcoTTjcreojs kcu aTconpi crews, Uepl do^rjs kcu eiricrr^fx-qs, Ao£cu $1 epicTTiKbs, Uepl rov fiavdai/en/ TrpoPXyifiaTa. To the second, Uepl (ojoju (pvaecos, Uepl (pixrews, (per- haps the same which Cicero mentions N. D. i. 13, 32), 'Epw- TTjfjLa irepl (pvcreas. A commen- tary on the writings of Heraclitus. which Diog. ix. 15 mentions : does not belong to him. So little, however, is known of these writ- ings, that no conclusions can be arrived at which contradict the above assumptions. His logical writings, to judge by their titles, appear to have contained those polemical dissertations on con- ceptions, judgments, and expres- sions, which were required as a foundation for critical researches. Of the writings on Physics, it is not known whether they treat of other than those natural subjects, which Antisthenes required im- mediately for his Ethics, in order to bring out the difference be- tween nature and custom and the conditions of a life of nature. Even the writing irepl (wow v irpdorwv p7]Qr\vai X6yq) • ov yap elvai avrq> aXX* %) ovofjid^ecrdai fj,6vov ovofia ydp \x6vov ex 61 ?' T & 5e €K rovroov rjb*7) cvyKei/jieva, Soanep avrd irerrX eKrai, otfroo Kal ra bvofxara ainwv crvfjLTrXaKevra Xdyov yeyovevar ovo\xdrm' yap (rvfinKoK^v elvai Xoyov ovcriav. And 201, C : ecpy) Se rfy /mev fiera Xoyov d6£av aXrjOr] eirio'rrjfjiyjv elvai, tV 5e dXoyov eKrbs eirt- (TT^ixris ' Kal S)v fxkv fx^} lari xSyos, ovk iiriffTriTa elvai, ovrooo'l Kal ovo/ndfav, a S ' ex €l > eirKTr^Ta. This whole description agrees with what has been quoted from Aristotle so entirely, trait for trait, that we cannot possibly refer it to any one else but Antisthenes. 254 THE S0CRAT1C SCHOOLS. Chap. XIII. ledge of conceptions was by Plato expanded into a system of the most decided Realism, and was de- veloped by Antisthenes into the barest Nominalism. General conceptions, he maintained, were only imagi- nary objects. Horses and men were seen, not however the conception of a horse or a man. 1 From this position he opened a campaign against his fellow pupil, with whom he was for other reasons not on good terms, 2 but his fire was met with corresponding spirit. 3 It is only natural that Antisthenes with his 1 Simpl. in Categ. Schol. in Arist. 66 says : rcov 5e irdkai&v ol jxkv avtjpovv ras iroiorriTas reXeus, to iroibv ffvyx&poui/res ^ivai (the terminology of course belongs to the Stoics) fccnrep *AvTLCrd4l/T]S, OS TT0T€ TlKaTCCVl dia/uLcpiaPriTaiv, * w TlkaTwv, , e avOpcoirorrira 5e ovx °P&- Diog. vi. 53, tells the same of Diogenes and Plato, only using rpaire^oTrjs and Kva- 6ott)s instead of av6pcoir6T7)s. Ammon. in Porph. Isag. 22, says : 5 A. eAeye ra yivt] kcli to. effirj iu xpiXais iiuvoiais elvcu, and then he mentions audpuTrorTjs and Itt-kottjs as examples. Plato is no doubt referring to this assertion of Antisthenes, when he raises in the Parm. 132, B., an objection to the theory of ideas, fir; rcov elfiwu eKacrrop f] tovtoov vorjfia kolL ovda/jiov avrco irpoo"f)Kr) iyyiyv€0~6ai &\Ao6i t) iv \jtvxcus. 2 The character and position in life of the two men was widely different, and Plato must have felt himself as much repelled by the plebeian roughness of a philosopher taken from the masses, as Antisthenes would have been annoyed by the refined delicacy of Plato. 3 Compare Plato, Soph. 251, C, and the anecdotes in Diog. iii. 35, vi. 7, and the correspond- ing ones about Plato and Dio- genes, which are partially fictions, in vi. 25; 40; 54; 58; JElian, V. H. xiv. 33; Theo. Progym. p. 205 ; Stob. Ploril. 13, 37. For the Cynical attack which An- tisthenes made on Plato in his ^ddow, see Diog. iii. 35, vi. 16; Athen. v. 220, xi. 507. The Euthydemns of Plato 301, A., also contains a trace of Anti- sthenes' polemic against the doc- trine of ideas. Plato there meets the assertion of the Sophist that beauty is only beautiful by the presence of beauty, by saying : 4av ovv TrapayevTjTai o~oi jSovs, fiovs el, Ka\ or i vvv iyco ooi irapeifju Aiovvo~6dcapos el; We may suppose that Antisthenes really made use of the illustration of oxen, CONTRADICTION DENIED BY THE CYNICS. 255 view of the question, should have laid the greatest Chap. XIII stress upon names. 1 But by stopping at names, and L_ refusing to allow any further teaching about things, (d) Con- he in truth put every scientific enquiry out of the t ^ ad } c ^°^ question. This he partially admitted, when from his hypotheses he drew the conclusion that it was im- possible to contradict oneself. 2 Taken strictly those to which Plato then replied by making use of the same illus- tration in the person of Diony- sodorus. 1 Antisth. in Epict Diss. i. 17, 12: cipxh iraioevaecos rj rcav bvofidroov eiriaKe^LS. It is a pity that we do not know more accu- rately the sense and the connec- tion of this utterance, and hence we cannot judge whether it re- quired an individual enquiry into the most important names, or only a general enquiry into nature and the meaning of names, which the principles contained in the above should develope. 2 Arist. Metaph. v. 29 ; Top. i. 11. ovk eariv dvriXeyeiv, Kadd- irep %(pf] 'Avriadevys, which Alex. (Schol. in Arist. 732) thus ex- plains : uiero Oe 6 'Avriadevys eKa- (Ttov rcov uvrcov XeyeaOoA TU> olKetoo Xoycp jj.6pcp Kal eva endarov Xoyov elvai . . . e| 5>v Kal avvdyeiv eirei- paro on /XT] eariv avriXeyeiv ' robs fxev yap dvr ikeyovras 'Kepi rivos did(popa Xeyeiv b(pe(Xeiv, fih dvva- o~6ai 5e 7repl avrov Biacpopovs robs Xoyovs (pepeaBai rus eva rbv olneiov eKaarov eivai ' eva yap evbs elvai Kal rbv Xeyovra irepl avrov Xeyeiv fj.6vou ' Soare el fiev irepl rod irpd- y/jLiros rod avrov Xeyoiev, rd avra av Xeyoiev dXX*f)Xois (els yap o irepl evbs Xoyos) Xeyovres oe rav- rd ovk av dvrikeyoiev dXXr}Xots ' el 5e h*ia Kr^aiirire, Kal dpri eneSei- £afjLev fxrjdeva Xeyovra cos ovk eari. rb yap /ult] uv ovdels ecpdvrj Xeyoov. Uorepov ovv . . . avriXeyoijiev av rod avrov irpdy/Jiaros Xoyov dfxcporepoL Xeyovres, ?) ovrca fxev av driTrov ravrd Xeyoipev ; ~2,vvex&peL. 'AAA.' orav /JL7)0*erepos, ecpi], rbv rod irpdy/uiaros Xdyov Xeyrj, rore dvri- Xeyoifxev av ; r\ ovrco ye rb irapdwav ot/5 s av fjLe/uLVTHjLevos e%f) rod irpd- y/iiaros ovfierepos rjjmcov ; Kal rodro crvvccfjLoXoyei. 'AAA' dpa, orav eyclo Xeyco jxev rb irpay/jia, av 5e ovb*e Xeyeis rb irapdirav ' 6 8e {ir\ Xeyoov rco Xeyovri iroos av dvriXeyoL ; Plato probably had an eye to Antisthenes, although this line of argument can hardly come from him. Here too belongs the maxim of Antisthenes in Stob. Elor. 82, 8 ; to the effect that contradiction ought never to be used, but only persuasion. A madman will not be brought to his right mind by another's madness. Contradiction is mad- ness. For he who contradicts, 256 THE SO CR A TIC SCHOOLS. Chap. hypotheses would have led him not only to the in- '__ ference already drawn by Aristotle 1 that no proposi- tions are false, but also to the further inference that no propositions of any kind are possible. The teach- ing of Antisthenes, if taken consistently, was calcu- lated to do away with all knowledge and with every kind of judgment. C. Theory But the Cynics were themselves by no means dis- of Morals. p 0Se( j to renounce knowledge. Four books came (a) Good L ° and evil from the pen of Antisthenes, on the difference be- tween knowledge and opinion, 2 and the whole School prided itself no little on having advanced beyond the deceptive sphere of opinions, 3 and being in full pos- session of truth. With them, however, knowledge is directed entirely to a practical* end, its object being to make men virtuous, and happy in being virtuous. Thus the highest object in life was allowed by the Cynics, as by all other moral philosophers, to consist in happiness, 4 but happiness was not distinguished from virtue, at least, not to the extent to which the dis- tinction is generally drawn, so as to suppose it possi- ble without virtue, but was absolutely identified with virtue. To the Cynic nothing is good but virtue, does what is in the nature of ovros ij.Iv efifipiQecrTaTos eyevero, things impossible. were So^s /j,ev naTacppovetv, irpos 1 Procl. in Crat. 37 : 'Autl- 5° a\j)Qeiav irapopfxav. Menander crBevr)s eKeyeu fir] de?u avriXeyeiv ' says of the same Cynic : to yap tvcls yap, (prjai, Xoyos aAr)devei ' viro\7] 2 This maxim follows from Diog. 12, who states as the teaching of Antisthenes : rd iro- urjpd i6jj.L^€ irdura ^evtKa, Com- pare Plato, Symp. 205. E. : ov yap rb iavrccu, oljj.ai tKacrToi dcird- {ourai, et [j.ri e* tls to uhv dyaObu oIkz7ou KaXo7 Kal iavrov. to 5e KaKov d\x6rpiou. In the Charm. 163, C. Critias says, only the use- ful and good is oIkuou. Although Antisthenes is not here men- tioned by name, yet the passage in Diogenes makes it probable that the antithesis of dyaObu and oUe7ou belongs to him, even if he was not the first to introduce it. 3 Xen. Symp. 4, 34, puts the following words to the same ef- fect in the mouth of Antisthenes : uouifa, db dl'5p€S. TOVS duOpdjTTOVS oi'K iu Tcp oKko) rbu ttXovtou Kal rr\u ireviau ex&Vj dXX* iu tcus \pvxcus' this is then further expanded ; and Epictet. Diss. iii. 24, 68, makes Diogenes say of Anti- sthenes : e : 5:'oa|e ,ue rd ipa Kal rd ovk iixd ' ktt\"is ovk iur) ' crvyys- pe«, ouceloij 5o£ia (Winckelmann, ovk eVre kvlkov, oi>5e yap al(Txpov. p. 47, suggests d5o|m, which 3 Diogenes in Diog. 68. Conf. certainly might be expected from Cic. Tusc. i. 43, 104. Certainly what preceded) \\/6(pos cVt! fiaivo- the Cynic does not mean immor- [X€voov avOpwirow. Diog. 11 says tality here, nor does it follow of Antisth. : r-qu t' d5o|iW dyadbv from the remark of Antisthenes kcl\ "gov tw Trove?, and 72 : evye- on II. xxiii. 15 (Schol. Venet.) to i/etas 5e Kai do£as ncu ra roiavra the effect that the souls have the iravrcL SteVat^e (Diogenes), irpoKo- same forms as their bodies. (TfJL^fjLara kclkiols ehai Keycav. In 41 4 Or as the Cynic technically he speaks of So^tjs e^avQi]fxara. In calls it, mere smoke, rvcpos. 92 : eXeye 5e (Crates) /x4 x pL rov- See Diog. 26, 83, 86. rovde7v (piKoo'ocpe'iu, ixexpi-av di'^cc- 5 Clement. Strom, ii. 417, B. ffiv ol arparriyol ehai bv-qXarai. (Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xi. 8.): Compare also 93. Doxopater in 'Ai/ricrdevris n\v t V aTvcpiav (reAos Aphthon. c. 2, Ehet. Gr. i. 192, airecpyvei). says that Diogenes, in answer to 6 Diog. vi. 3 : eAe7e re (rvve- the question, How is honour to be %4s ' fj.aveir)v fxaAXov fj yaQeiriv. gained ? replied ' By not troubling lb. ix. 101 [y rjoovr] 5o£d£eTcu] yourself at all about it.' Kanbv vtf 'hvno-Qkvovs. The same S 2 260 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. XIII. gives rise to unbridled passion, as in love, there no means can be too violent to eradicate it. 1 And on the contrary, what most men are afraid of, labour and toil, are good, because labour and toil alone bring man to a healthy state, and thus make him independent. 2 Hercules 3 is thus the patron saint and pattern for the Cynic, 4 because no one fought his in Gell. ix. 5, 3 ; Clement. Stro- mat. ii. 412, D. ; Eus. Pr. Ev. xv. 13, 7 (Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 47). Conf. Diog. vi. 8, 14. Plato is no doubt referring to this Cynical dictum, Phileb. 44, C. : Xiav /ne /juari kotow rrji/ rr\s Tjdovrjs Bvvafiiv Kal vevofxiKoroou ovdev vyies, ware Kal avrb tovto clvttjs to iiraycoybv yo-fiTev/xa oi>x t)5ovt]v ehai, and Arist. Eth. x. 1 : ol jxev yap Tayadbu 7]dovT]u Xeyovo-ii/, ol 5' e£ evavrias KO/Mdrj (pavXov. lb. vii. 12 : toTs jxkv ovv BoKel ov$€/jLLa 7]^ov)) eivai ayadbv ovre Kad' avrb ovre Kara o~vfi$e$T]K6s ■ ov yap eivai ravrbv ayaQbv Kal TjBourjj/. 1 Clement. 406, C. ; #y«b 5e airodexofxaL rbv ' Avno~dei'7)i' i rr\v 'A(ppo^irr}u, Xeyovra, kolv Kara- ro^evcrai/jLL, it XafioLui • on iroXXas f)iuwv KaXas Kal ayadas yvvalKas dL€(j>d€Lp€V. TOV T€ epCOTa KaKiaU v buted to Antisthenes in Plut. (pavKovroov ovdeu, £>v fj-dOrjcis itrriv^ 6 fiadcav 3 Schol. Lips, on IL O. 123 : avemffTTiixoiv av irore ylvmro. 3 Avt lctO evr) s (prjaiv, cos e'er itt parr ei 7 The maxim that nothing o ao (pi\e, ol rovro fjyov- xovrai' elvai 8 s dreKri riy erepav fxevoi ovk exovai 8e?£ai ^\rts x°°P^ s 3 Diog. 8, according to Pha- dffK^aecos KaropOovaOai, hvvar^i nias : ('Ai/rio~devr}S) epa)r7]9e\s virb 8e ravrrjv irav eKvucrjaai. XIII. 266 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. the Platonic and Aristotelian distinction between a " conventional and a philosophical, an ethical and an intellectual virtue ; and in answer to Meno's ! ques- tion, whether virtue was produced by exercise or instruction, they would have replied, that exercise was the best instruction. (7) Wis- He who has attained to virtue by the help of the dom and ^ i_ • • • -r* ^ Folly. Cynic teaching, is a wise man. livery one else is lacking in wisdom. In describing the advantages of the one, and the misery of the other, no words are too strong for the Cynics. The wise man never suffers want, for all things are his. He is at home every- where, and can accommodate himself to any circum- stances. Faultless and love-inspiring, he is unmoved by fortune. 2 An image of the divinity, he lives with the Grods. His whole life is a festival, and the Grods, whose friend he is, bestow on him everything. 3 The opposite is the case with the bulk of mankind, most of whom are mentally deformed, the slaves of fancies, and divided only by a very narrow line from mad- men. To find a real man, the Cynics thought it was necessary to search with a lantern in broad daylight. 1 Plato, Meno, init. ayaOovs &p$pas Bechv elnSpas chat. 2 Diog. 11: avrdpKr] *f" elpai Ibid. 37a 72 : tqop 6ea>p £cti iravra' top cocpop ■ "navTa yap avTod eivai (pihoi 5e oi cocpoX toIs Qeols • icoiva tol rcov olKKoiv. Ibid. 12 : Top Se tcl Twv (piAojv. iravT doa £o~t\ (ro£ £evoi> ovdep ov& diropop. tccp oo74 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS. Chap. revolting 1 in marriage between the nearest rela- XIIL tions. (j8) Ofci- Another point which they considered to be equally vil life. indifferent with family life for the wise man, was civil life. Indeed the sharp contrast between slavery and freedom does not affect the wise man. The man who is really free can never be a slave — for a slave is one who is afraid — and for the same reason a slave can never be free. The wise man is the natural ruler of others, although he may be called a slave, in the same way that the physician is the ruler of the sick. It was on this account that when Diogenes had to be sold, he had the question asked : Who is in want of a master ? and declined the offer of his friends to buy him back. 2 The wise man of the Cynics feels himself also above the restraints which civil life imposes : for where is the constitution which comes up to his requirements ? A popular government is severely censured by Antisthenes. 3 An absolute monarch only appeared to these freedom- 1 Dio Chrys. Or. x. 2£, whose from the bad (Diog. 5 ; 6) must statement is confirmed by its be intended for a hit at demo- agreeing with the universal doc- cracy. The words in Diog. 8, trine of the Stoics. that should the Athenians nomi- 2 Diog. 29 ; 74. According to nate their asses horses, it would Diog. 16, Antisthenes wrote irepl be quite as good as choosing i\€vdepias kcu SovXcias, and per- incompetent generals — must also haps this is the origin of the ac- be directed against a popular count in Stob. Flor. 8, 14. form of government. According 3 Arist. Pol. iii. 13, tells the to Athen. v. 220, Antisthenes fable — the application of which had made a sharp attack on all to a democracy is obvious — of the popular leaders at Athens, the hares suggesting universal Thus in Diog. 24; 41, Diogenes equality to the lions. The blame calls them 6%^ov Siclkovovs, and which he attaches to those states, he amuses himself at the expense which do not distinguish the good of Demosthenes. Ibid. 34. CYXIC REXUXCIATIOX OF CIVIL LIFE. 275 loving philosophers in the light of a bad and miserable man. 1 Existing aristocratical institutions fell far below their ideal, none of them being calculated for the rule of wise men: for what law or custom can fetter him, whose life is regulated by the laws of virtue ? 2 and what state can be extensive enough for those who regard themselves as citizens of the world ? 3 Whilst allowing the conditional necessity for a state and laws, 4 the Cynics 5 refused to have anything to do with them themselves, and wanted no homes. They only wished to be citizens of the world ; and in as far as they endeavoured to realise their ideal state, they really destroyed all political life. 6 All mankind were to live together like a flock. Chap. XIII. 1 Compare Xen. Syrup. 4, 36 ; Dio Chrys. Or. vi."47; Stob. Floril. 49, 47; 97, 26; Diog. 50. 2 Antisthenes, in Diog. 11, says : rov o~6 eV KOGfACp. Antisthenes, ibid. 12 : rep crexpep |eVoj/ ovBkv ouS' &Tropov. Crates, ibid. 98: ovx & Trdrpas (xol irvpyos, ov fxia (Trey 7), ^6/j.os ctoi/xos 7ifJ.iv iu^iaiTaadat irdpa. The same individual in Pint, de Adul. 28, shows that banish- ment is no evil, and according to Diog. 93, he is said to have given a negative answer to Alex- ander's question, whether he did not wish to see Thebes rebuilt : %X eLV ^ 7raTpi5a aoo^iav kcu ireyiau dvaXoira rfj rvx'p kcl\ Aioyevovs ehcu TToAirrjs dveKifiovKsvTov 0fJL€U7]S, Plut. Alex. Vit. i. 6 ; and since this treatise of Zeno was always considered to express the opi- nions of the Cynic School, we have every reason to look for those views in it. That these views were on the whole advocated by Antisthenes, is in itself pro- bable, and is confirmed by Plato's Politicus. Beginning as he does by rejecting the analogy between statesmanship and the superin- tendance of a flock, we might na- turally think that Plato was pro- voked to it by some such theory ; and since we know from Plu- tarch's account of Zeno, that the Cynics reduced the idea of the state to that of a herd of men, it is most natural to think of them. The description of the natural state, Rep. ii. 372, appears also to refer to Antisthenes. Plato at first describes it as though from himself, but he afterwards clearly intimates, that it belongs to another, when he calls it a state fit for pigs. And we know of no one else to whom it could be referred but the founder of the Stoic School. CYNIC SUPPRESSION OF MODESTY. 277 tional suppression of the natural feeling of shame. They did not consider this feeling altogether un- justifiable, 1 but they maintained that we need only be ashamed of what is bad, and that what is in itself good may be displayed before the eyes of all. They allowed themselves, therefore, to do what they con- sidered natural, no matter where, and even what other men prefer to do in secret they did not shrink from doing in the public streets. 2 For fear of in any way foregoing his independence, the Cynic puts out of sight all regard for others, and what he thinks he need not be ashamed of himself, he thinks he need Chap. XIII. 1 It is expressly told of Dio- genes, Diog. 37 ; 54, that he ex- postulated with a woman who lay in an improper position in a temple, and that he called blushes the colour of virtue. 2 This is especially said of Diogenes, Diog. 22 : iravrl Tp6irci} ixQr\To els irdvra, apicrcav ti kcl\ Kadevdcov kcu SiaXeyofievos, and ac- cording to Diog. 69, he supported this by the argument, If it is at all allowable to breakfast, it must be allowable to breakfast in public. Following out this prin- ciple he not only took his meals in public in the streets (Diog. 48 ; 58), but he also did many other eccentric and startling things, in the sight of all passers by (Diog. 35 ; 36). It is even asserted of him, Diog. 69 : e*«0ei de rrdvra iroielv iv rep fJ-efftp, Kal ra Ar)fJL7}rpos Kal ra y A. Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 48, tells the same of him, mentioning an instance. We have already ob- served that these statements can hardly be altogether fictitious. But it is incredible that Crates and Hipparchia, as is said to have been the case, consummated their nuptials in the midst of numerous spectators. There are, however, not a few authorities for it : Diog. 97; Sext. Pyrrh. i. 153; iii. 200 ; Clement. Stromat. iv. 523, A. ; Apul. Floril. 14 ; Lact. Inst. iii. lo, who mentions it as the common practice of the Cynics ; S. Aug. Civ. Dei, xiv. 20, who does not altogether credit it, but does not improve it by his interpretation of it. But all these are later authorities, and the whole story may be based upon some fact such as that this mar- ried couple once passed a night in the crroa ttoikiXt), or e]se upon the theoretical assertion of some Cynic philosophers, that a public consummation of nuptials was permissible. We have no reason, however, to doubt what Diog. 97 says, that Hipparchia went about in public dressed as a man. 278 THE SOCRATIC SCHOOLS, Chap, not be ashamed of before the world. The opinion of XIII * men is to him indifferent. He does not feel himself injured by their familiarity with his personal life, nor is he afraid of such an injury. 0) Renun- To the same cause may be referred the Cynic atti- ciation of it- r» -i i a religion. tude towards religion. A course ot study under An- tisthenes was certainly not needed to make men en- tertain doubts about the truth of the popular faith. Since the appearance of the Sophists, doubts were being raised in the most opposite quarters, and had penetrated to all classes. Even the Socratic circle had not passed unscathed. 1 Antisthenes in particular must have been familiar with freer views about the Grods and their worship, derived from his intercourse with Grorgias, and the other Sophists, and particularly from the principles of the Eleatics, who had also in other respects influenced him. But for him these views had a peculiar meaning; which may serve to explain the sharp and hostile attitude of the Cynics to the popular faith, in which they so distinctly deviated from the example of Socrates. The wise man who is independent of everything external, cannot possibly be dependent on a traditional faith. He cannot feel himself obliged to follow popular opinions, or to connect his well being with customs and devotional practices, which have nothing to do with his moral state. 2 Thus in religious matters the 1 As we gather from the dia- the free thought of Aristodemus, logues of Aristodemus and Euthy- Mem. i. 4,2,9-11; 14; who is demus, Xen. Mem. i. 4 ; iv. 3 ; also described by Plato, Symp. not to mention Critias. 173, B., as a kindred spirit to 2 In this way we must explain Antisthenes. CYNIC EEXVXCIATION OF RELIGION. 279 Cynics are decidedly on the side of free thought. Chap. The existence of a God they do not deny, and their " wise man cannot do without one; but they object to a number of Gods resembling men — popular Gods, who, they say, 1 owe their existence to tradition : in reality there is but one God, who resembles nothing visible, and cannot be represented by any symbol. 2 And in their opinion the same holds good of the worship of the Gods. There is but one way of pleasing God — by virtue. Every other form is based on super- stition. Wisdom and integrity make us resemble the Gods, and make us their friends, But what is generally done to secure their favour is worthless and perverse. The wise man honours God by virtue, and not by sacrifice, 3 which is not required of him. He knows that a temple is not more holy than any other place. 4 He does not pray for things which are considered goods by those wanting in intelligence; not for riches, but for righteousness. 5 1 Cic. X. D. i. 13, 32 : ' Anti- the term, i.e. they denied the sthenes in eo libro, qui physicus G-ods of the state, although from inscribitur, populares Deos mul- their point of view they were tos, naturalem unum esse dicens,' certainly right in rejecting the which is repeated by Minn. Fel. charge of atheism. Nothing Oct. 19. 8, and Lact. Inst. i. o, follows from the anecdotes in epit. 4 : Clement, Protrept. 46, C.', Diog. 37 ; 42. and also Stromat. v. 601, A., says: 3 Julian, Or. vi. 199, B. says 'AvTiG-Oevris . . . 0€bv ovSevl dot- of Diogenes in excusing him be- k&cu