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AUTHOR: 
 
 MAYOR, JOSEPH 
 
 BICKERSTETH 
 
 TITLE: 
 
 A SKETCH OF ANCIENT 
 PHILOSOPHY FROM... 
 
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 ... A sketch of ancient philosophy from Thales to Cicero 
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 A SKETCH 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 FROM THALES TO CICERO. 
 
^I'-^ViJ'.'^ 
 
 A SKETCH 
 
 HonDcn: C. J. CLAY and SONS, 
 CAMBRIDGE UxXIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, 
 
 AVE MARIA LANE. 
 
 CambritJjje: DEIGHTON, BELL, AND CO. 
 Eetpjig: F. A. BROCKHAUS. 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 FROM THALES TO CICERO 
 
 BY 
 
 JOSEPH B. MAYOR, M.A. 
 
 LATE PROFESSOR OF MORAL nilLOSOPHY AT KING's COLLEGE, LONDON, 
 
 FORMERLY FELLOW AND TUTOR OF ST JOHN'S 
 
 COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 EDITED FOR THE SYNDICS OF THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
 
 AT TPIE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 
 
 \All Rights reservt:d.'\ 
 
?^-ggs.'^?^ -:y wg^gftu-'^^g^r 
 
 SO 
 
 ^ 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 A. PRE-SOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE. 
 
 Cambrttige 
 
 PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY M.A. AND SONS 
 AT THli UMVkKSITY PKESS 
 
 Ionic School. One ever-chaiiging sdf-developed U7iiverse, 
 
 {Dytiamical Physicisvi^.) 
 
 B.C. 600 fl. Thales, p. 1, 
 
 K,8o — Anaximander, p. 3. 
 520 — Anaximenes, p. 4. 
 510 — Heraclitus, p. 4. 
 
 Italic School. One unchanging self-existejit universe 
 ( Transcendental P/iysicism.) 
 
 B.C. 530 11. Pythagoras, p. 7. 
 530 — Xenophanes j 
 
 480 — Parmenides V Eleatic school, pp. 14— 1(). 
 460 — Zeno of Elea ) 
 
 1 Ritter in his History of Ancient Philosophy employs the terms 
 Dynamical and Mechanical to distinguish the view which regards 
 the universe as one great organism with an inherent power of move- 
 ment and change, from that which regards it as a result of forces 
 acting upon a number of independent elements. 
 
i«ib 
 
 VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I ONICO-Italic School ^. Changirig Universe formed out of a 
 plurality of unchanging elements. {Mechanical Physicism.) 
 
 B.C. 470 fl. Empedocles, p. 17. 
 470 — Anaxagoras, p. 19. 
 [460 — Diogenes of Apollonia, p. 19^.] 
 430 — Democritus, p. 20. 
 
 B. SOCRATES TO ARISTOTLE. 
 PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE AND MAX. 
 
 SoniiSTS, pp. 25, 26. 
 
 B.C. 450 fl. Protagoras. 
 440 — Gorgias. 
 430 — Hippias. 
 430 — Prodicus. 
 
 B.C. 470 — 399, Socrates, p. 27. 
 
 B.C. 440 — 355 Xenophon, p. 32. 
 
 399 fl. Euclides of Megara, p. 35. 
 
 Cynics, pp. 35—39- 
 
 B.C. 3<So fl. Antisthenes. 
 360 — Diogenes. 
 
 CVRENAICS, pp. 39 — 41. 
 
 B.C. 380 fl. Aristippus. 
 
 JTheodorus. 
 Hegesias. 
 B.C. 428—347, Plato {Acade7ny^, pp. 41—83. 
 
 Abstract of the Republic^ pp. 47 — 59. 
 Remarks on Republic^ pp. 59 — 67. 
 Example of dialectic, pp. 67 — 73. 
 Examples of exposition, pp. 74 — 80, 
 Example of allegory, pp. 80 — 83. 
 
 ^ This is not a recognized title, but merely used here for the sake 
 of convenience. 
 
 * Diogenes, as explained in the body of the work, is re-actionary, 
 approaching more nearly to the earlier Ionic philosophers. 
 
 310 — 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 CONTENTS, vu 
 
 B.C. 385 — 322, Aristotle {Lyceum)^ pp. 83—142. 
 
 His writings, pp. 91 — 100. 
 
 Abstract oi Nicomachean Ethics^ pp. 100 — 126. 
 
 Remarks on same, pp. 126 — 130. 
 
 Abstract o{ Politics^ pp. 130 — 138. 
 
 Contrast between moral and physical treatises, 
 
 pp. 138—140. 
 History of his writings, pp. 140 — 142. 
 Lost Dialogues, p. 142. 
 
 C. POST-ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY OF MAN. 
 Characteristics of the later philosophy, pp. 143—145. 
 Peripatetics, p. 145. 
 
 B.C. 310 fl. Theophrastus. 
 290 — Strato, 
 
 Sceptics, p. 146. 
 
 B.C. 320 fl. Pyrrho. 
 270 — Timon. 
 
 Academy Old, p. 147. 
 
 B.C. 350 fl. Speusippus. 
 340 — Xenocrates. 
 
 Academy Sceptical (by Cicero called 'New'). 
 B.C. 315 — 241 Arcesilausj 
 
 214 — 129 Carneades> pp. 147 — 150. 
 130 fl. Clitomachus / 
 
 Stoicism, pp. 150—178. 
 
 B. C. 280 fl. Zeno of Citium. 
 260 — Cleanthes. 
 240 — Chrysippus, 
 
 Stoic Logic, p. 152. 
 
 — Physics, pp. 153— '55' 
 
 — Ethics, pp. 155 — 162. 
 
 — Theology, pp. 162 — 164. 
 Comparison with Christianity, pp. \Ci\ — 177. 
 Hymn of Cleanthes, p. 177. 
 
VIU 
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 Epicureanism, pp. 178—205. 
 
 B.C. 341 — 270 Epicurus, pp. 181 — 183. 
 
 His aversion to science, pp. 183 — 1S6. 
 Epicurean Logic, pp. 186 — 188. 
 
 Physics, pp. 188 — 191. 
 
 • Atomic System, pp. 191 — 193. 
 
 Theology, pp. 193—199. 
 
 Ethics, pp. 199 — 203. 
 
 Lucretius quoted, pp. 203 — 205. 
 
 Eclecticism, pp. 205 to end. 
 
 Philosophy in Rome, pp. 206 — 218. 
 
 Eclectic Stoics, pp. 218, 219. 
 
 B.C. 1 40 fl. Panaetius. 
 100 — Posidonius. 
 
 Eclectic Academics {Reformed or * Old'' Academy), pp. 220 — 
 223. 
 
 B.C. ICO fl. Philo. 
 
 80 — Antiochus. 
 
 Eclectic Epicureans and Peripatetics, p. 223, 
 
 B.C. ic6 — 43, Cicero, pp. 224 — 244. 
 
 His character, pp. 224 — 226. 
 
 Professedly a 'New' [i.e. Sceptical) Academic, 
 
 p. 226. 
 In reality a moderate Stoic, p. 227. 
 
 in regard to Theology, p. 227. 
 
 in regard to Ethics, p. 230. 
 Survey ofhis philosophical writings, pp. 231 —237. 
 Their value for the history of philosophy, pp. 
 
 238-243. 
 Their value as philosophy, pp. 243, 244. 
 
 B.C. 60 fl. Varro, p. 245. 
 
 60 — Nigidius Figulus, p. 245. 
 
 30 — Sextius, p. 246. 
 
 Concluding Reflexions, pp. 246—254. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The readers whom I have chiefly had in my mind, in 
 writing the following sketch of Ancient Philosophy, are 
 Undergraduates at the University or others who are 
 commencing the study of the philosophical works of 
 Cicero or Plato or Aristotle in the original language. It 
 has been my wish to supply to them, what I remember 
 vainly seeking when I was in their position, something 
 which may help them to find their bearings in the new 
 world into which they are plunged on first making 
 acquaintance with such books as Cicero's De Finibus or 
 the Republic of Plato. The only helps which I had in 
 similar circumstances some thirty years ago were a trans- 
 lation of Schleiermacher's Introductmi to the Dialogues of 
 Plato, of which I could make nothing, and Lewes' small 
 Biographical History of Philosophy, of which the aim, as 
 far as I could judge, was to show that, as philosophy was 
 moonshine, it was mere waste of time to read what the 
 philosophers had written. Things have changed since 
 then. The noblest defence of ancient philosophy which 
 has ever appeared, is contained in the chapters on the 
 
-*wi«!iryw 
 
 X PREFACE, 
 
 Sophists and Socrates written by one, who might have 
 been supposed to be himself more or less a sympathizer 
 with Lewes, and in the elaborate examination of the spe- 
 culations of the Ancients contained in the same Author's 
 Plato and Aristotle. During the same interval the charm 
 and the wit and the irony of Plato have for the first time 
 been made intelligible to English readers by Mr Jowett's 
 admirable translations; and the excellent German his- 
 tories of philosophy by Zeller, Ueberweg and Schwegler 
 have been translated into English. None of these 
 however, nor any others which might be named, seem to 
 me exactly to meet the wants of the case. They are too 
 long, too full, too hard, too abstract, or too vague, for a 
 first sketch. What is wanted is something to combine 
 conciseness with accuracy and clearness, something 
 which will be easy and interesting to readers of ordinary 
 intelligence, and will leave no doubt in their minds as to 
 the author's meaning. It is for others to judge how far 
 this object has been accomplished in the present book, 
 which is the outcome of various courses of lectures 
 delivered on the same subject during the last quarter 
 of a century. 
 
 But, though I write in the first instance for Classical 
 scholars, and have therefore thought myself at liberty to 
 quote the original Greek and Latin, wherever it seemed 
 expedient to do so ; I am not without hopes that what I 
 have written may be found interesting and useful by 
 educated readers generally, not merely as an introduction 
 to the formal history of philosophy, but as supplying a 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 XI 
 
 key to our present ways of thinking and judging in regard 
 to matters of the highest importance. For Greece is 
 in everything the starting-point of modern civilization. 
 Homer is not more the fountain-head of Western poetry, 
 than Socrates of Western philosophy. Allowing as much 
 as we will to Semitic and Teutonic influences, it remains 
 true that for Art and Science and Law, for the Philosophy 
 of thought and of action, nay even for Theology itself, 
 as far as the form is concerned, we are mainly indebted 
 to Greece, and to Rome as the interpreter of Greece. 
 Even that which we call 'common sense' consists of 
 little more than the worn fragments of older systems of 
 thought, just as the common soil of our gardens is com- 
 posed, in great part, of the detritus of primeval rocks. 
 
 As we trace backwards the march of civilization, we 
 find extraordinary contrasts in the degrees of progress 
 made in its different departments. In some departments, 
 as for instance in the inductive sciences and in mechani- 
 cal inventions, the early stages have only a historical 
 value : in others, as in geometry, we still use text-bot)ks 
 written two thousand years ago. So in the arts : while in 
 sculpture we despair of approaching Greece, in music we 
 have far surpassed her, and in poetry we may claim 
 equality at least, if not superiority. How stands it with 
 regard to philosophy? Here too we find the same 
 variety. While the fanciful speculations of the ancients 
 as to the constitution and laws of the external universe, 
 have for the most part vanished away before the touch of 
 reality, and given place to the solid edifice of modern 
 
xu 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 physical science ; while the loose induction of Socrates 
 and of Aristotle has been reduced in our own day into 
 a definite system of Inductive Logic; while immense 
 additions have thus been made to our knowledge of the 
 external universe and of man as a part of the universe, 
 that is, of the anatomy, the physiology and the habits of 
 the human animal, there has been far less advance in the 
 knowledge of man as a moral and intellectual being. 
 Thus, Deductive Logic remains in its essentials the same 
 as when it was first given to the world by Aristotle, and 
 neither in Psychology nor in Ethics can it be said that 
 the ancient systems have been finally superseded by any 
 generally accepted system of modern times. No doubt 
 many new facts have been observed and new explana- 
 tions have been offered in reference to such subjects as 
 comparative psychology, the association of ideas, the 
 inQuence of heredity, the influence of nature on man, the 
 laws of human progress, and so on. Above all, Chris- 
 tianity has imparted a far deeper feeling of the complexity 
 of life, a sense of moral responsibility, of man's weakness 
 and sinfulness, and of the regenerating powers of foith 
 and love, such as was never dreamt of by the ancients. 
 And yet, in spite of all this, is there any modern work 
 of systematic morality which could be compared with 
 Aristotle's Ethics for its power of stimulating moral 
 thought? Most moderns appear to write under the 
 consciousness that they are uttering truisms ; or, if they 
 escape from this, it is by running off from the main high- 
 way of morality into by-paths of psychology or physiology 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 xui 
 
 or sociology. Again, they are hampered by the suspicion 
 that whatever concerns moral practice is more impres- 
 sively and effectively treated of by religion ; or else they 
 consign, w^hat, supposing it to be true, is the most im- 
 portant part of morality, to the region of the unknown 
 and unknowable. The ancient moralists knew no such 
 restrictions. Aristotle's, and still more Plato's, theory of 
 conduct was no stale repetition of other men's thoughts ; 
 it was the full expression of their own highest aspirations 
 and discoveries in regard to the duty, the hopes, and the 
 destiny of man. And thus there is a freshness and a 
 completeness about the ethics of the Ancients which we 
 seek in vain in the Moderns. Even if it were otherwise, 
 the comparison between pre-Christian and post-Christian 
 systems of morality must always be full of interest 
 and importance in reference to our view of Christianity 
 
 itself. 
 
 One word more as to the general use of the history of 
 philosophy. It was a saying of Democritus that a fool 
 has to be taught everything by his own personal ex- 
 perience, while a wise man draws lessons from the 
 experience of others. History of whatever kind supplies 
 us with the means of thus gaining experience by proxy, 
 and in the history of philosophy above all we have the 
 concentrated essence of all human experience. For the 
 philosopher is, no more than the poet, an isolated pheno- 
 menon. As the latter expresses the feeling, so the former 
 expresses in its purest form the thought of his time, sum- 
 ming up the past, interpreting the present, and fore- 
 
-J -T^ J» J-- 11-V •■»^.- T W^. 
 
 XIV 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 shadowing the future. We might be spared much of 
 crudeness and violence and one-sidedness, if people were 
 aware that what they hold to be the last result of modern 
 enlightenment was perhaps the common-place of 2000 
 years ago ; or, on the other hand, that doctrines or prac- 
 tices which they regard as too sacred for examination are 
 to be traced back, it may be, to a Pagan origin. It is 
 possible to be provincial in regard to time as well as in 
 regard to space ; and there is no more mischievous pro- 
 vincialism than that of the man who accepts blindly the 
 fashionable belief, or no-belief, of his particular time, with- 
 out caring to inquire what were the ideas of the countless 
 generations which preceded, or what are likely to be the 
 ideas of the generations which will follow. However firm 
 may be our persuasion of the Divinely guided progress of 
 our race, the fact of a general for^vard movement in the 
 stream of history is not inconsistent with all sorts of eddies 
 and retardations at particular points ; and before we can 
 be sure that such points are not to be found in our own 
 age, we must have some knowledge of the past develop- 
 ment of thought, and have taken the trouble to compare 
 our own ways of thinking and acting with those that have 
 prevailed in other epochs of humanity. 
 
 Had space permitted, I should have been glad to 
 have followed the example set by Sir Alexander Grant in 
 his Essays on Aristotle, and shown how the half-conscious 
 morality of the Epic and Gnomic and Lyric poets, and 
 of the early historians, provided the raw material which 
 was afterwards worked up by the philosophers; and 
 
 ii 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 XV 
 
 again how the results of philosophic thought became in 
 their turn the common property of the educated class, 
 and were transformed into household words by Euripides 
 and the writers of the New Comedy, and still more by 
 the Roman Satirists. But to do this would have swollen 
 the volume to twice its present size, and perhaps it may 
 suffice here to throw out a hint which any Classical 
 scholar may put into practice for himself 
 
 In conclusion I have to return my best thanks to the 
 friends who have helped me by looking over portions of 
 my proof-sheets, especially to my colleague Prof Warr, 
 to whose suggestion indeed it is mainly owing that a 
 part of the Introduction to my edition of Cicero's De 
 Natiira Dcoriun has thus been expanded into a separate 
 work on the History of Ancient Philosophy. 
 
 N.B. The references to Zeller are, except when otherwise 
 stated, to the latest German edition, which is denoted by the small 
 numeral following the number of the page. To the books recom- 
 mended under Aristotle's Ethics ^ p. 100, add a new translation by 
 Mr F. H. Peters, and the Essays V. and VI. contained in Grate's 
 Fragments on Ethical Subjects. 
 
 May 20, 18S1. 
 
^OtAN r^p eGNH TA MH NOMON eXONTA (^yce\ TA 
 
 TOY NOMoy noicuciiM, oytoi nomon MH exoNiec eaytoic 
 eiciN NOMoc, omNec eNAeiKNYNTAi to eproN toy nomoy 
 
 rpAHTON €N TA?C KApAlAIC AYTOJN, CYMMApTYpOYCHC AYTCON 
 
 THC CYNGiAHceooc KAi m€Ta5y aAAhAoon TOuN AOPCMCON 
 
 KATHfOpOYNTCON H KAI AnoAorOY^eNCON. 
 
 S. Paul, ad Rom. ii. 14, 15. 
 Aioti to tnoocton TOY QeoY c^ANepoN ecTiN cm 
 
 AYToTc* 6 eedc r^p Ay'tOIC €(J)ANep<jDCeN. TA tap AcJpATA 
 AYTOY And KTl'ceCOC KOCMOY TOIC nOIHUACIN NOOYUeNA 
 KAeopATAI, H Te AlAlOC A^TOY AYNAMIC KAI OeiOTHC. 
 
 Ibid. I. 19, 20. 
 
 'Hn M6N OYN j\^6 THC TO? KYpioy nApoYciAC eic 
 
 AIKAIOCYNHN^EAAHCIN ANAfKAIA (t)lA0C04)IA, NYNI Ae XPHCIMH 
 
 npdc GeoceBeiAN pNeTAi, nponAiAeiA tic ofcA to?c thn 
 ni'cTiN Ai' AnoAeisGooc KApnoYMeNoic. 
 
 Clem. Al. Sirom. i. c. 5 § 28. 
 
 ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 FROM THALES TO CICERO'. 
 
 Greek pliilosophy had its origin not in the mother 
 country, but in the colonies of Asia Minor and Magna 
 Graecia. This is owing partly to the reflectiveness be- 
 longing to a more advanced civilization, and partly to 
 the fact that the colonists were brought in contact with 
 the customs and ideas of foreign nations. The philoso- 
 
 ^ The following works will be found useful by the student. 
 They are arranged in what I consider to be their order of import- 
 ance. Full references will be found in the two which stand at the 
 head of the list and also in Ueberweg. 
 
 Ritter and Preller, Historia Philosophiae Graecae et Romanac ex 
 fontiwn locis contcxta (referred to as R. and P. below). 
 
 Zeller, History of Greek Philosophy (in German. Translations 
 of portions have been published by Longmans). 
 
 Grote, History of Greece, together with his Flato and Aristotle. 
 
 Grant, Ethics of Aristotle, Vol. I. ed. 3. 
 
 Ueberweg, History of Philosophy, Vol. I. tr. by Morris. 
 
 Schwegler, Hist, of Philosophy, tr. by Sterling. 
 
 Dollinger, The Gentile and the Jew, translated by Darnell. 
 
 A. Butler, Lectures on Ancient Philosophy. 
 
 Mullach's Fragmenta Philosophorinn in Didot's series ought 
 to have been more useful than any of these, but its value is much 
 lessened by the want of discrimination shown in the selection and 
 arrangement of the writers quoted. 
 
 M. P. * I 
 
2 THALES. 
 
 phers of the earliest, or Pre-Socratic period, are broadly 
 divided into the Ionic and the Italic Schools. Both had 
 the same object of interest, to ascertain the nature, the 
 origin, the laws, the destiny of the visible world. But 
 while the former, with the Ionic sensitiveness to all out- 
 ward influences, dwelt more upon the material element it- 
 self, and the life which manifested itself in its ever-chang- 
 ing developments, the latter (who, if not themselves 
 Dorian, were yet surrounded by Dorian settlers, with 
 their Doric ideal of discipline, order, stability, superiority 
 to sense, as opposed to the Ionic ideal of free growth, 
 of ease, beauty and nature,) turned their thoughts more 
 to the laws by which the world was governed, or the one 
 unchanging substance which they believed to underlie its 
 shifting phenomena. 
 
 The first name in Greek philosophy is the so-called 
 founder of the Ionic or physical school, Thales of Mile- 
 tus, a contemporary of Solon (b.c. 640—550), said to be 
 of Phenician descent. With him begins the transition 
 from the mythological to the scientific interpretation of 
 nature, the transition, as Grote puts it, from the question 
 Who sends rain, or thunder, or earthquakes, and why 
 does he send it ? to the question What are the antece- 
 dent conditions of rain, thunder, or earthquakes ? The 
 old cosmogonies and theogonies suggested the idea of 
 development under the form of a personal history of 
 a number of supernatural beings variously related to each 
 other. The first parent of all, according to Homer, was 
 Oceanus (//. xiv. 201, 240), perhaps a nature-myth to be 
 interpreted of the sun rising and setting in the sea. 
 Thales stripped him of his personality, and laid down 
 the proposition that water is the one original substance 
 
 ANAXIMANDER. ^ 
 
 out of which all things are produced. Aristotle conjec- 
 tures that he was led to this belief by observing that 
 moisture is essential to animal and vegetable life : pro- 
 bably it was also from the fact that water supplies the 
 most obvious example of the transmutation of matter 
 under its three forms, solid, fluid and gaseous. Thales 
 further held that the universe is a living creature ; which 
 he expressed by saying that *all things are full of God,' 
 and in agreement with this he is reported to have said 
 that 'the magnet had a soul.' 
 
 The second of the Ionic philosophers was Anaxi- 
 mander, also an inhabitant of Miletus (b.c. 610—540). 
 He followed Thales in seeking for an original substance 
 to which he gave the name of a'px^f, but he found this not 
 in Water, but in the aTrcipor, matter indeterminate (/. e. 
 not yet developed into any one of the forms familiar to 
 us) and infinite, which we may regard as bearing the 
 same relation to Hesiod's primaeval Chaos, as Water did 
 to the Homeric Oceanus. The elementary contraries, 
 hot, cold, moist, dry, are separated from this first matter 
 by virtue of the eternal movement belonging to it ; thus 
 are produced the four elements; the earth was in the 
 form of a cylinder, self-poised, in the centre of the uni- 
 verse; round it was air, and round that again a fiery 
 sphere which was broken up so as to form the heavenly 
 bodies. As all substances are produced out of the In- 
 finite so they are resolved into it, thus ' atoning for their 
 injustice^' in arrogating to themselves a separate indi- 
 vidual existence. The Infinite is divine, containing and 
 directing all things: divine too are the innumerable 
 
 ^ Ai5o;/at 70/3 avTo. Tiaiv Kal Uktjv r^s abidas. R. and P. § 18. 
 
 I — 2 
 
 f 
 
*tnAaa.* -i!tm..-v^ 
 
 4 ANAXIMENES. 
 
 worlds which it is ever generating and re-absorbing into 
 its own bosom. 
 
 ^ After Anaximander comes Anaximenes, also of 
 Miletus, who is supposed to have flourished about 520 
 B.C. While his doctrine approaches in many respects to 
 that of Anaximander, he nevertheless returned to the 
 principle of Thales in so far that he assumed, as the 
 apx^;, a definite substance, Air, in contradistinction to the 
 indefinite uTreipoi/ of his immediate predecessor. Air is 
 infinite in extent and eternal in duration. It is in con- 
 tinual motion, and produces all things out of itself by 
 condensation and rarefaction, passing through successive 
 stages from fire downwards to wind, cloud, water, earth 
 and stone. As man's life is supported by breathing, so 
 the universe subsists by the air which encompasses it. 
 We are told that Anaximenes gave the name of God both 
 to his first principle Air, and to certain of its products, 
 probably the stars. 
 
 The greatest of the Pre-Socratic philosophers, Hera- 
 clitus of Ephesus, known among the ancients as the 
 obscure and the weeping philosopher, was a little junior 
 to Anaximenes. Following in the steps of his predecessor, 
 he held that it was one and the self-same substance which 
 by processes of condensation and rarefaction changed it- 
 self into all the elements known by us, but he preferred 
 to name this from its highest potency /r^, rather than to 
 stop at the intermediate stage of air. But the point of 
 main interest with him was not the original substance, 
 but the process, the everlasting movement upwards and 
 downwards, fire (including air), water, earth; earth, water, 
 fire. All death is birth into a new form, all birth the 
 death of the previous form. There is properly no ex- 
 
 HERACLITUS. 5 
 
 istence but only 'becoming,* i.e. a continual passing 
 from one existence into another. Each moment is the 
 union of opposites, being and not-being', the life of the 
 world is maintained by conflict, 7roAe/.tos TrarTjp irdvTwv. 
 Every particle of matter is in continual movement. All 
 things are in flux like the waters of a river. One thing 
 alone is permanent, the universal law which reveals itself 
 in this movement. This is Zeus, the all-pervading reason 
 of the world. It is only the illusion of the senses which 
 makes us fancy that there are such things as permanent 
 substances. Fire exhibits most clearly the incessant 
 movement and activity of the world : confined in the 
 body it constitutes the human soul, in the universe at 
 large it is God (the substance and the process being thus 
 identified). 
 
 The fragmentary remains of Heraclitus abound in 
 those pregnant oracular sayings for which he was so 
 famous among the ancients. Such are the following, in 
 which the law of man and the law of nature are connected 
 with the Will and Word of God. Fr. 91 \ 'Understand- 
 ing is common to all. When we speak with reason we 
 must hold fast to that which is common, even as a city 
 holds fast to the law, yea, and far more strongly: for all 
 human laws are fed by one law, that of God, which pre- 
 vails wherever it will, and suffices for all and surpasses ^' 
 Fr. 100, *The law is the rampart of the city^' Fr. 92, 
 
 ^ I give the numbering of Mr Bywater's edition. 
 
 ^ Avvdv iffTi Trd<n rb (ppovieiv ^vv vSip Xiyovrai Iffx^p^^eaOaL xpV 
 ry ^vv(^ irdvTidv, 6K0}airep vb[j.(^ 7r6Xis kox ttoXv laxvporipus. Tp^cpovrat. 
 yap TrdfTes ol dvdpuTreLot vojllol virb ivbs toO deiov Kpariei yap toctoD- 
 TQv CKoaov ediXei koL i^apUu irdai. /cat TrepLyiverat. 
 
 * Mdx€<Tdai XPV T^^ drj/jiov virkp rod vofiov okojs vnkp relx^os. 
 
"gjfga 
 
 6 HERACLITUS. 
 
 * Reason is common to all, but most live as though under- 
 standing were their own'.' Fr. 29, 'The sun shall not 
 overpass his measure, else the Erinyes, the ministers of 
 justice, will find him out".' Fr. 19, 'Wisdom consists 
 in one thing, to know the mind by which all through all 
 is guided I' Fr. 65, 'One thing alone wisdom willeth and 
 willeth not to be spoken, the name of Zeus*.' I add a 
 few apophthegms of a more miscellaneous character. Fr. 
 46, 'Out of discord proceeds the fairest harmony ^' Fr. 47, 
 'The hidden harmony is better than that which is mani- 
 fest*'.' Fr. II, 'The king to whom belongs the shrine at 
 Delphi neither publishes nor conceals but shadows forth 
 the truths' Fr. 12, 'The Sibyl, uttering with frenzied 
 mouth words unmirthful, unadorned, untricked, reaches 
 with her voice through a thousand years by the help of 
 God".' Fr. 122, 'After death there await men such things 
 
 * ToD \(i'^ov 5* kovTO'i ^vvov, ^(jovai oi iroWol (L^iSirjv I'^oi'Tes (ppovnaLV. 
 
 * 'IlXi'os ovx VTrep^rjatraL /xerpa' ei di fxirj, 'Epi.viies pav diKrjs iirl- 
 KovpoL €^evpri<xov<n. 
 
 •* 'Ec TO (TOipov, irrlcTTaaOii. yvu)p.-qv ^ Kv^epuarai travTa Sia travTwv. 
 
 * 'E;/ t6 ao<p6v piovvov \iyeaOai ovk e^Aei /cai idiXei, Zrjvbs ovvoixa. 
 ^ l^K Twv dia<p€p6vTU}u KaWicrTT} dpjuovia. 
 
 ^ 'ApfJLOvia d(pav7js (paveprjs Kpdaawv. 
 
 ' '0 ava^ ov t6 p^avTtiov iari to iv AA^ots, oiVe X^7et oxjTt KpvirTei, 
 dXXa <T7]naiu€i. 
 
 8 Zl^vWa 5^ pLaivopiivi^ (jTop-aTi dyeXaaTa Kal d/ca\Xw7r«rTa /cat 
 dpi,ijpi<rTa (pdeyyopLCUT) ^tXtwi' iriwv i^iKveeTai t-§ (puvy did tov B^ov^ 
 which Coleridge has thus translated [Lii. Rem. ill. p. 419) 
 
 — not hers 
 To win the sense by words of rhetoric, 
 Lip-blossoms breathing perishable sweets; 
 But by the power of the informing Word 
 Roll sounding onward through a thousand years 
 Her deep prophetic bodements. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 7 
 
 as they think not nor expect'.' Fr. 4, 'Eyes and eais 
 are bad witnesses when the soul is barbarous".' Fr. 7, 
 'To him that hopes not, the unhoped will never come^' 
 Fr. 8, 'They that search for gold, dig much ground and 
 find little*.' Fr. 16, 'Great learning does not teach wis- 
 dom^' Fr. 75, 'The dry light is the wisest soul^' 
 
 Heraclitus is the first philosopher of whom we read 
 that he referred to the doctrines of other philosophers. 
 He is said to have spoken highly of some of the seven 
 Wise Men, but condemned severely Pythagoras and 
 Xenophanes as well as the poets Hesiod, Homer and 
 Archilochus. Though I agree with Ueberweg in classing 
 him with the older Ionics, yet his philosophy was no 
 doubt largely developed with a reference to the rival 
 schools of Italy. Thus there is something of a Pythago- 
 rean colour in fragments 46 and 47 quoted above. 
 
 We must now cross the water with Pythagoras of 
 
 ^ *Avdpu)irovi piiveL TeXevTycravTas daaa ovk ^XirovTat ovZk doK^ovcrt.. 
 2 KaKoi p,dpTvpes dudpuiTOiai 6<pdaXp.oi /cat a5ra, pap^dpovs i/'uxas 
 
 iyovTUV. 
 
 2 'Eaj* pLT) ^XinjaL, dviXinaTOV ovk i^evp-^ffei. 
 
 * Xpvabv oi di^-^pLevoi yrjv ttoXX-^u dpvaaovai. koX evpiffKOvai oXiyov. 
 
 ^ UoXvpiadir] voov ^x^lv ov diddcTKei. 
 
 6 This has reference to the doctrine that fire is the essence of 
 spirit. It was illustrated by the obscuration of the faculties in drunk- 
 enness, and by the supposed ill effect of a foggy district on the 
 intelligence of the inhabitants. The si'cawi Itunen of the Novum 
 Orgauum is borrowed from it. There are three different forms of 
 the original maxim, which may possibly be all due to Heraclitus, as 
 we see from other fragments (e.g. 66) that he was fond of playing on 
 words. In Fr. 74 it runs avt] xj/yxv <ro<pwTdTr) Kal dplcTrj, in Fr. 75 
 OLvyn ^-nprj ypvxv (rotpuTarr; /cat dpi<TTT], in Fr. 76 ov yrj ^rjpri, xf/vxv 
 
 <T0<pUTdT7] Kal dpi<TTr]. 
 
8 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 I 
 
 Samos, born about 580^.0., who settled at Crotona in Italy, 
 529 B.C., and there founded what is known as the Italic 
 school'. He seems to have found in the mysteries and 
 in the Orphic hymns the starting point which Thales had 
 discovered in Homer; and there can be little doubt that 
 his doctrine and system were also in part suggested by 
 his travels in Egypt. He established a sort of religious 
 brotherhood with strict rules and a severe initiation', in- 
 sisted on training in gymnastics, mathematics and music, 
 
 ^ There is no one of the early philosophers about whose history 
 and doctrines it is more difficult to ascertain the exact truth than 
 Pythagoras. This is owing in part to the fact that neither 
 Pythagoras himself nor any of his immediate disciples committed 
 their teaching to writing, and also that the earliest Pythagorean 
 treatise, composed by Philolaus a contemporary of Socrates, is only 
 known to us through fragments, the genuineness of which is disputed ; 
 but still more it is owing to the luxuriant growth of an apocryphal 
 Pythagorean literature among later eclectic philosophers, who 
 desired to claim the authority of Pythagoras for their own specula- 
 tions. This was particularly the case with Neo-Pythagoreans and 
 Neo-Platonists, such as Porphyry and lamblichus, who selected him, 
 as Philostratus had done Apollonius of Tyana, to be the champion 
 of the old religion, and opposed his claims, as prophet and miracle- 
 worker, to those put forward by the Christians in the name of their 
 Master or His Apostles. In the account which I have given in the 
 text I have mainly followed Zeller who has examined the evidence 
 with extreme care, testing all later reports by the statements of 
 Plato and Aristotle. 
 
 2 It was said by later Pythagoreans that the noviciate lasted for 
 five years, and that absolute silence had to be observed throughout 
 that time. One rule strongly insisted on for all the brotherhood was 
 daily self-examination, as we see by the following lines taken from 
 the miscellaneous collection of Pythagorean precepts entitled the 
 Goldctt Verses, which Mullach attributes to Lysis, the tutor of 
 Epaminondas, but which, as a collection, are probably of much later 
 date: 
 
 I 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 9 
 
 and taught the doctrines of immortality and of the trans- 
 migration of souls, and the duty of great abstemiousness, 
 if not, as some report, of total abstinence from animal 
 food^ Three points may be noticed about this society, 
 (i) their high ideal of friendship, evinced in the maxims 
 KOLva TO. To3v (f>L\ii)V €ivai, Tov 8c (fiiKov aWnv eavTov, and m 
 the well-known story of the devotion of Damon and 
 Phintias; (2) the admission into their body, as into the 
 Epicurean society of later times, of female associates, of 
 whom the most distinguished was Theano, the wife of 
 
 jVIt^S' virvov na\aKo1<nv iw tixixacn irpoad^^aadai, 
 TTplv Tuiv -qjxepivCov ^pyup TpU eKaaTou iireXdeiW 
 Trrj Tap4^r]v; ri 5' ^/)f|a; t'l jxoi deov ovk ireXiadr]; 
 ' A p^a/xeuos 3' dwb irpwrov iir^^Ldi, Kal fxer^Teira 
 66i\d /xh €KTrpri^as iTnirXrjaaeo, XP'^^'^°' ^^ repirov. 
 
 Plato {ReJ). X. 600) bears witness to the marked character of the 
 Pythagorean life {Uv6ay6p€iosTpoTrosTov piov) ; and Herodotus (ll. 81) 
 connects the religious rites practised by them with those of the 
 Orphic sect and of the Egyptians, 6fjLo\oy4ov<n d^ ravra (the use of 
 linen garments) rolcn 'Op(pLKo^cn KoKeofxivoKTi Kai BaKxi-xoiai, iovai 5^ 
 AiyvwTioKTL Kai Uvdayopeioiai. (I do not agree with Zeller in putting 
 a comma after AiyvTrTLOLffi.) 
 
 1 The earliest notice we have of Pythagoras is contained in some 
 verses of Xenophanes in which allusion is made to his doctrine of 
 metempsychosis. Pythagoras is there said to have interceded for a 
 dog which was being beaten, professing that he recognized in his 
 cries the voice of a friend. 
 
 Kal TTori fiLP crTv(p€\t^oiJ.ivov (r/cuXa/cos irapiovTa 
 
 (paalu iiroiKTeipai Kal rode (pdadai tiros' 
 
 iravdai, fxr^bk pdiri^\ iireir) <pi\ov du^pos iffrl 
 
 \pvxVi "^W ^yv^v <pOey^aix€V7}s diuiv. 
 It was believed that he retained the memory of his own former 
 transmigrations, and that he had once recognized a shield hanging 
 up in a temple, as one which he had himself carried at Troy under 
 the name of Euphorbus, (see Hor. Od. I. xxviii. 1. 10). 
 
10 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 II 
 
 Pythagoras; (3) the unquestioning submission with which 
 the dicta of the master were received by his disciples, as 
 shown by the famous avros €</)a, ipse dixit, which was to 
 them an end of all controversy. The brotherhood, first 
 established at Crotona, soon gained great influence with 
 the wealthier class in that and the neighbouring cities ; 
 but after some twenty years of prosperity they seem to 
 have provoked the opposition of the democratic party by 
 their arrogance and exclusiveness. Pythagoras himself is 
 said to have been banished from Crotona and taken 
 refuge at Metapontum. A worse fate overtook his follow- 
 ers about a hundred years later, when their church at 
 Crotona was burnt down, and they themselves massacred 
 with the exception of two. The school appears to have 
 died out altogether about the middle of the 4th century 
 B.C., but revived in the time of Cicero. 
 
 The new and startling feature in the Pythagorean 
 philosophy, as opposed to the Ionic systems, w\as that it 
 found its a'px7, its key of the universe, not in any known 
 substance, but in number and proportion. This might 
 naturally have occurred to one who had listened to the 
 teaching of Thales and Anaximander. After all it makes 
 no difference, he might say, what we take as our original 
 matter, it is the law of development, the measure of con- 
 densation, which determines the nature of each thine:. 
 Number rules the harmonies of music, the proportions of 
 sculpture and architecture, the movements of the heavenly 
 bodies'. It is Number which makes the universe into a 
 
 * He believed that the intervals between the heavenly bodies 
 corresponded exactly to those of the octave, and that hence arose 
 the Harmony of the Spheres, which mortals were unable to hear, 
 either because it was too powerful for their organs of hearing or be- 
 
 I 
 
 
 KO(7/xos\ and is the secret of a virtuous and orderly life. 
 Then, by a confusion similar to that which led HeracHtus 
 to identify the law of movement with Fire, the Pythago- 
 reans went on to identify number with form, substance 
 and quality. One, the Monad, evolved out of itself 
 Limit (order), exhibited in the series of odd numbers, and 
 i:he Unlimited (freedom, expansiveness), the Dyad, ex- 
 hibited in the series of even numbers, especially of the 
 powers of Two ; out of the harmonious mixture of these 
 contraries all particular substances were produced. Again, 
 One was the point. Two the line, Three the plane. Four 
 the concrete solid (but from another point of view, as 
 being the first square number, equal into equal, it was 
 conceived to be Justice). Yet once more. One was the 
 central fire, the hearth of the universe, the throne of 
 Zeus. Around this revolved in regular dance ten spheres ; 
 on the outside that of the fixed stars, within this the five 
 planets in their order, then the Sun, the Moon, the Earth, 
 between which and the central fire was interposed the 
 imaginary Anti-Chthon or Counter-Earth, cutting off our 
 view of the central fire and leaving us dependent on the 
 reflection of its light by the Sun, which was not in itself 
 luminous. The separation of the Earth into its two 
 hemispheres was for the purpose of making up the Decad, 
 the symbol of totality. As the Decad was the sum of the 
 first four numbers (i -i- 2 -}- 3 + 4 = 10), special sacredness 
 attached to this group, known under the name Tetractys^ 
 
 cause they had never experienced absolute silence. Arist. Gael. 
 
 II. 9, Plin. N. H. II. 22. 
 
 1 Pythagoras is said to have been the first who called the 
 
 universe by this name. 
 
 2 Compare the Pythagorean oath contained in the Golden Verses^ 
 
WW«*»-rj JfrWi-^M'i? 
 
 13 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 PYTHAGORAS. 
 
 13 
 
 The number Ten was also the number of the Pythagorean 
 categories, or list of contraries, thus given by Aristotle 
 {Met. I. V. 986), Limit and Unlimited, Odd and Even 
 One and iMany, Right and Left, Male and Female Rest 
 and Motion, Straight and Curved, Light and Darkness, 
 Oood and Bad, Square and Oblong. 
 
 These mystical extravagances appear to have been the 
 necessary introduction to the sciences of Arithmetic and 
 Geometry, just as Astrology and Alchemy were the intro- 
 duction to Astronomy and Chemistry. Indeed we find 
 that men like Copernicus and Kepler were to some extent 
 mfluenced and guided in their investigations by the ideas 
 of Pythagoms. Nor was he himself deficient in knowled-e 
 of a more exact kind, if it is true that he was the discoverer 
 of the theorem which we know as the 47th in the first 
 book of Euclid, and was also acquainted with such pro- 
 perties of numbers as are mentioned byZcller (i. p. 322^). 
 The Pythagorean doctrine of the soul and of God 
 is variously reported. If we may trust the oldest accounts, 
 there does not seem to have been any close connexion 
 between the religious and philosophical opinions of 
 
 0^ A^a rhv if^erip^ y,,,^ ^apa5^.ra T.rpaKr{,u, ^aydu deuiov <pv<rcos 
 P'.^u,^arJxov<Tau. There was of course no end to the fancies which 
 might be connected with numbers. Thus, One was reason, as 
 being unchangeable; Two was opinion, and the earth as the rec^ion 
 of opinion; Three was perfection, as comprising in itself beginning 
 middle, and end; Five was marriage, the union of odd and even' 
 Later Pythagoreans made the Monad God, the Dyad Matter, the 
 Triad the \\ odd. For other interpretations, see Zeller i. p. 3 .94 foU 
 The five regular solids were supposed to be the ultimate forms of 
 the fiv^ elements, the cube of earth, pyramid of fire, octahedron 
 of air, icosahedron of water, dodecahedron of the etherial element 
 which encompassed the universe on the outside. 
 
 Pythagoras. We are told that he believed in One God 
 eternal, unchangeable, ruling and upholding all things, 
 that the soul was a ' harmony V that the body was its 
 prison", in which it was punished for past sin and dis- 
 ciplined for a divine life after death, that those who 
 failed to profit by this discipline would pass into lower 
 forms of life, or suffer severer penalties in Hades. 
 
 Heraclides Ponticus reports (Diog. L. Proem. 12, 
 Cic. Tusc. V. 3) that Pythagoras was the first to call 
 himself ^iko(To^o%, a lover of wisdom, saying that the 
 name o-ot^o'?, used by the older sages, properly belonged 
 to God alone. He compared human life to the gather- 
 ing at the Olympic games, where some came to win 
 glory, others to make gain, others to watch the spectacle: 
 the philosopher, he said, resembled these last in despising 
 lionour and gain, and caring only for knowledge. Other 
 sayings attributed to Pythagoras are the following : 'man 
 is at his best when he visits the temples of the Gods^' 
 'Choose the best life; use will make it pleasant,' (Stob. 
 Flor, I. 29). 'Do not speak few things in many words, but 
 many things in few words,' (Stob. Flor. xxxv. 8). ' Either 
 be silent, or speak words better than silence,' (Stob. 
 Fior. XXXI v. 7). 'Be sleepless in the things of the 
 
 ^ The statement of Cicero and others that Pythagoras held the 
 human soul to be a portion of the Divine soul {Cato M. 78) is not 
 confirmed by the earlier authorities. 
 
 2 So Philolaus (R. and P. § 124) 5ta rtj'as rifiupias a \pvxa tu) 
 iTu/xari avp^^evKTai Kal KadaTrep iv ad/xaTL rovrt^ T^dairraL. Plato 
 adds that he condemned suicide as desertion of our post, ^v rivt 
 ippovpq. i<7fj.ev ol dvdpwiroi, kul ov Set St) eavrbv iK Tavrrjs Xveiv ov5' 
 aTTohL^pdaKHv. 
 
 ^ B^Xtkttoi iavTuiu ylvovrai didpunrot, Srav irpbi Toi/S deovs 
 ftadi^ioaiv, Plut. Dcf. Or. 183, see Cic. Leg. II. 11. 
 
 \ 
 
14 
 
 XENOPHANES. 
 
 spirit; for sleep In them is akin to death,' (Stob. Flor. i. 
 19). *It is hard to take many paths in Hfe at the same 
 time,' (Stob. Flor. i. 27). 'It is the part of a fool to 
 attend to every opinion of every man, above all to that 
 of the mob,' (Iambi. V. P. 31). 
 
 The second of the Italic schools was the Eleatic, 
 founded by Xenophanes of Colophon in Asia Minor 
 (b. 569 li.c.), who migrated to Elea in Italy about 540 b.c. 
 While the Pythagoreans strove to explain nature mathe- 
 matically and symbolically, the Eleatics in their later 
 developments did the same by their metaphysical ab- 
 stractions. Xenophanes himself seems to have received 
 his fust philosophical impulse in the revulsion from the 
 popular mythology. In his philosophical poem he con- 
 demns anthropomorphism and polytheism altogether, and 
 charges Homer and Hesiod with attributing to the Gods 
 conduct which would have been disgraceful in men. 
 * If animals had had hands they would have depicted Gods 
 each in their own form, just as men have done'. God 
 is one, all eye, all ear, all understanding; he is for ever 
 unmoved, unchangeable, a vast all-embracing sphere.' 
 
 1 llavro. Oeo'is aviOrjKav "Ofnjpos 6" 'HcrtoSos re 
 ocrca Trap dvOpioiroKXiv oueidca Kal ^670$ eariv, 
 ot TrXeiffT €(pd^y^avTO dewv dde/niaTia ?pya, 
 KXiirreiv fioixeOeiv re Kal dWriXovs dvaTeveLu. 
 
 Eli deoi ^v re deol<n Kal dvdpcjJTroicn fx^yiaros, 
 oCti 5e/j.as dvrjTolaLv bfxo'uos ovdk porjfj.a. 
 OvXos opq., ovXos d^ vo€i, oCXos 5^ r aKovei. 
 
 'AW* etrot x^^po-^ 7 c^xo*' ^0^^ V^ X^oures, 
 TJ ypd\pai x^^peffffL Kal ipya reXeiv direp dvdpes, 
 iinroi fi^v 6' tinroiai ^oes 5^ re ^ovalv 6/xoias 
 Kal Ke 6eQ}v I54as ^ypacpov Kal cruffxaT iiroiovv, 
 Toiavd olov irep Kaxnol difxas elxov cfxoiov. 
 
 PARMENIDES. 
 
 15 
 
 It is disputed whether the last expression is to be taken 
 literally, implying that the universe is God, or whether 
 it is a metaphor to express God's perfection and omni- 
 presence. With all his freedom of censure Xenophanes 
 is far from claiming for himself that oracular authority 
 which the Pythagoreans ascribed to the dicta of their 
 master. *It is not for man,' he says, *to hope for certainty 
 in these matters of high speculation. However well he 
 speaks, he has not attained to knowledge, but only to 
 probabiUty at best'.' 
 
 The chief representative of the Eleatic School is 
 Parmenides (b. 515 b.c). The fragments of his philo- 
 sophical poem, collected by Mullach, amount to more 
 than 150 hexameters. He disengaged the doctrine of 
 Xenophanes from its theological form, and ascribed to 
 Being what his predecessor had ascribed to God. His 
 philosophy is the antithesis of that of Heraclitus. While 
 Heraclitus said 'all is motion and change, the appearance 
 of fixity is merely illusion of the senses;' Parmenides 
 asserted, with distinct reference to him, that all that exists 
 has existed and will exist the same for ever, that it is 
 change and multiplicity which is illusory. It is only by 
 thought we can become conscious of the really existent ; 
 being and thought are the same, sense can only give rise 
 to uncertain opinion. In such language we see partly a pro- 
 test against the vagueness of the conception of development 
 or 'becoming,' by which the Ionic philosophers en- 
 deavoured to explain the origin of things, 'You say fire be- 
 comes water, but each thing is what it is, and can never be 
 
 1 Kai rh fikv ovv (Ta<ph ovm dv-qp yher oxjU tls ^(rrai 
 el5u)S dfitpl deujv re Kal dffffa X^w irepl irdvTUV 
 el yap Kal to. fidXiaTa tvxoi rereXecp^ivov eliruiu, 
 aiiTOi ofiws ovk oUe' doKos 5' iirl tto/jl Teru/crai. 
 
i6 
 
 ZENO OF ELEA. 
 
 othenvise;' partly an idea of the indestructibility of matter; 
 partly an anticipation of the later distinction between neces- 
 sary and contingent truth; thus one point dwelt upon by him 
 was the impossibility of any separation of parts of space. 
 But though truth only belonged to the world of real 
 existence, Parmenides condescended to give his romance 
 of nature for the benefit of those who could not pene- 
 trate beyond the world of phenomena. He begins with 
 two principles, light and darkness, also called fire and 
 earth, or male and female; and supposes all things to 
 proceed from their mixture. The existing universe con- 
 sists of a central fire, the seat of the presiding Deity, 
 and of several concentric rings of mingled light and 
 darkness, bounded on the outside by a wall Ox" flame. 
 The first-born of Gods was Love, by whom the union of 
 opposites is brought about. In this we may trace a 
 reminiscence of the Hesiodic "Epw?. 
 
 Zeno of Elea (b. 490 b.c.) is chiefly known from his 
 arguments showing the absurd consequences of the ordi- 
 nary belief in the phenomenal world. Parmenides must 
 be right in denying motion and multiplicity, for their as- 
 sertion leads to self-contradiction. Zeno was in conse- 
 quence called the inventor of Dialectic. His arguments, 
 especially the famous 'Achilles,' still find a place in 
 treatises on Logic*. 
 
 ^ It is thus given by Mill {System of Logic II. 385^), <The argu- 
 ment is, let Achilles run ten times as fast as the tortoise, yet if the 
 tortoise has the start, Achilles will never overtake him. For sup- 
 jiose them to be at first separated by an interval of a thousand feet : 
 when Achilles has run those thousand feet, the tortoise will have 
 got on a hundred : when Achilles has run those hundred, the tor- 
 toise will have run ten, and so on for ever: therefore Achilles may 
 run for ever without overtaking the tortoise.' 
 
 EMPEDOCLES. 
 
 17 
 
 The clearly marked opposition between the Ionic and 
 the Eleatic views of nature, as shown in Heraclitus and 
 Parmenides, had a powerful influence on the subsequent 
 course of philosophy. Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and the 
 Atomists agreed in accepting the Eleatic principle of the 
 immutability of substance, while denying its absolute 
 Oneness; and they explained the Ionic 'becoming' as 
 the result of the mixture of a number of unchangeable 
 substances. Empedocles of Agrigentum (b. 500 b.c.) 
 'than whom,' says Lucretius, 'Sicily has produced nothing 
 holier, more marvellous or more dear,' held that there 
 were four eternal, self-subsistent elements or 'roots of 
 things,' which were being continually separated and com- 
 bined under the influence of Love and Hatred. At times 
 Love has the upper hand, at times Hate. When Love 
 has the complete supremacy the elements are at rest, 
 united in one all-including sphere {'^(f>a1po<i) : when Hate 
 prevails, the elements are entirely separate. The soul, 
 like all other things, is formed by the mixture of the 
 elements, and is thus capable of perception, for like can 
 only be perceived by like'. In regard to the origin of 
 living things, Empedocles imagined that the several parts 
 or limbs were in the first instance produced separately in 
 the bosom of the earth, eyes apart from brows, arms 
 from shoulders, etc. ; and that these were afterwards joined 
 at haphazard, giving rise to all sorts of monsters, ox- 
 headed men, men-headed oxen; and that it was only 
 after successive trials that nature gave birth to perfect 
 animals, fitted to survive and to propagate their 
 
 ^ yo-h t^^v yap yaiav dTrdnraixev, vSari 5' vSwp, 
 aldipL S' al64pa dtav, arkp vvpl irvp atSrjXov 
 
 (TTopyy 5^ ZTOpyfjv, Net/cos 5^ re veUe'C \vyp<^. 
 
 M. P. 
 
i8 
 
 ANAXAGORAS. 
 
 race*. In his opinions on the Gods and on religion, Empe- 
 docles was chiefly influenced by Pythagoras. He beheved 
 in the existence of Daemons intermediate between Gods 
 and men, some of which had passed into mortal bodies 
 as an atonement for former sins, and could only be 
 restored to their original state after long ages of disci- 
 pline. While at one time he speaks of God as one spirit 
 pervading the world in swift thought, in other places 
 he speaks of Gods produced like men from the mixture 
 of the elements, but possessed of a longer existence, and 
 then again we find divinity attributed to Sphaerus and 
 the four elements and two moving powers. 
 
 Empedocles closes the series of those philosophers 
 who used the medium of verse for their speculations. 
 We have still nearly 500 verses remaining of his two 
 great philosophical poems (the He/at ^vVews and KaOapfioi) 
 so highly praised by Lucretius in the well-known lines — 
 'Carmina quin etiam divini pectoris ejus 
 vociferantur et exponunt praeclara reperta, 
 ut vix humana videatur stirpe creatus.' 
 The claim to divinity seems to have been seriously put 
 forward by Empedocles himself in the line xa^P^/, eyw S" 
 vfuu ^€0? afi/SpoTo^j ovK€TL 0vr]T6^, and ouQ of the stories 
 told about his death was that he had been carried up to 
 heaven in a chariot of fire; the more common belief 
 however seems to have been that reported by Horace — 
 
 — deus immortalis haberi 
 dum cupit Empedocles, ardentem frigldus Aetnam 
 insiluit. 
 Returning now to Ionia, we see the effect of the 
 Eleatic school in the speculations of Anaxagoras of 
 ^ See the lines quoted in R. and P. § 175. 
 
 DIOGENES. 
 
 19 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 Clazomenae (b. 500 b.c), the friend and teacher of Peri- 
 cles and Euripides, of whom Aristotle says that he ap- 
 peared among the older philosophers like a sober man 
 among drunkards. Instead of the four elements of Em- 
 pedocles, which he declared to be themselves compounds, 
 he assumed an indefinite number of 'seeds' of the diffe- 
 rent kinds of matter. To these seeds later philosophers 
 gave the distinctive name of 'homoeomeries,' denotIn<z 
 that the constituent particles of bodies were of the same 
 nature as the bodies which they composed, while the un- 
 qualified atoms of Democritus gave rise to the different 
 qualities of their compounds by the mode in which they 
 were compounded. In the beginning these seeds were 
 huddled together in a confused chaos, then came Nous, 
 the pure self-moving intelligence, almighty and all-wise 
 (this takes the place of the half-conscious Love and Hate 
 of Empedocles), and communicated a rotatory impulse 
 to the inert mass, by means of which the cognate par- 
 ticles were gradually brought together and reduced to 
 order. Nous is the soul of the world and dwells in all 
 living things, even plants, as the principle of their life. 
 Whether Anaxagoras called it by the name of God is 
 doubtful. Plato and Aristotle complain that, having be- 
 gun well, he failed to make full use of the right principle 
 with which he started, and turned his attention to me- 
 chanical causes, only having recourse to Nous as a dcus 
 ex inachina when the others failed. 
 
 Diogenes of Apollonia in Crete was a younger con- 
 temporary of Anaxagoras, against whom he took up a 
 reactionary position and defended the older Ionic doc- 
 trine, assuming Air to be the one principle out of which 
 all things were produced, and assigning to it all the attri- 
 
26 
 
 DEMOCRITUS, 
 
 DEMOCRITUS. 
 
 21 
 
 butes of Nous. Both he and Anaxagoras taught at 
 Athens, but were compelled to leave it on a charge of 
 impiety. 
 
 Of far greater importance is Democritus, born at 
 the Ionic colony of Abdera in Thrace, B.C. 460, the chief 
 expositor of the Atomic theory, which was originated by 
 his elder contemporary and friend, Leucippus the Eleatic. 
 Briefly stated, their doctrine is that of Anaxagoras, minus 
 Nous and the qualitative diversity in the seeds or atoms. 
 They adopted the Eleatic view so far as relates to the 
 eternal sameness of Being, applying this to the indivisible, 
 unchangeable atoms, but they denied its unity, continuity 
 and immobility, and they asserted that * Not-being' (the 
 Vacuum of their system) existed no less than 'Being,' 
 and was no less essential as an apx^'» since without it 
 motion would be impossible. The atoms are absolutely 
 soHd and incompressible, they are without any secondary 
 qualities, and differ only in size (and therefore in weight), 
 in figure, position and arrangement. Though too small 
 to be seen or felt by us, they produce all things by their 
 combinations; and the compounds have various qualities 
 in accordance with the differences in the constituent 
 atoms, the mode of arrangement, and the larger or smaller 
 amount of vacuum separating the atoms. Thus Soul, the 
 divine element pervading the world, is a sort of fire 
 made up of small, round, smooth atoms in continual 
 motion, and largely mixed with vacuum. The account 
 given by Democritus of the origin of the existing universe 
 is that there were, to begin with, an infinite number of 
 atoms carried downwards by their own inherent gravity 
 at different rates in proportion to their magnitude, that 
 thus they impinged one upon another, and gave rise to 
 
 all sorts of oblique and contrary movements, out of which 
 was generated an all-absorbing rotatory motion or vortex. 
 Under these various movements corresponding atoms 
 found their fitdng places and became entangled and 
 hooked together so as to form bodies. Thus the earthy 
 and watery particles were drawn to the centre where 
 they remained at rest, while the airy and fiery rebounded 
 from them and rose to the circumference, forming a sort 
 of shell between the organized world and the infinitude 
 of unorganized atoms on the outside. There was an 
 endless number of such worlds in various stages of 
 growth or decay under the influx or efilux of atoms; the 
 destruction of each world followed upon its collision with 
 another world. 
 
 The account given of the mind and its operations 
 was as follows: — Particles of mind or soul were distri- 
 buted throughout the body, and were continually es- 
 caping owing to their subtle nature, but, as they escaped, 
 their place was taken by other particles inhaled in the 
 breath. When breathing ceased there was nothing to 
 recruit the living particles, and death speedily followed. 
 Every mental impression was of the nature of touch, and 
 was caused either by actual contact with atoms as in the 
 case of taste and hearing, or by images thrown off from 
 bodies external to us, and entering in through the pores. 
 
 These images were a kind of film consisting of the 
 surface atoms which were continually floating off from 
 all bodies without any disturbance of their mutual order, 
 and were, so to speak, a sample of the object from which 
 they were detached. Democritus used the same word 
 (€?SwA.a) for certain anthropomorphic combinations of 
 the finest soul-atoms, which he believed to exist in the 
 
22 
 
 DEMOCRITUS, 
 
 air and to be at times perceived by men. These were 
 the Gods of the popular religion, not immortal, though 
 longer lived than men: some v^rere friendly, some ma- 
 lignant; he prayed that he might himself only meet with 
 the former. 
 
 Democritus was contrasted with Heraclitus by the 
 ancients, as the laughing with the weeping philosopher, 
 see Juvenal x. 2% foil. In both we find the same lofty 
 aristocratic spirit; both stand aloof from the herd, and 
 scan with critical eyes the follies of men; but the wisdom 
 of the younger is characterized by shrewd common-sense 
 and good-humoured contentment, and has nothing of that 
 mysterious gloom which pervades the utterances of the 
 elder. The writings of Democritus seem to have rivalled 
 those of Aristotle in extent and variety, and in beauty of 
 style to have been scarcely inferior to Plato. I select a 
 few aphorisms from the Fragments, which fill about forty 
 pages in Mullach's collection. Fr. 1 1, ' Men have invented 
 for themselves the phantom, fortune, to excuse their own 
 want of prudence'.* Fr. 17, *The chiefest pleasures come 
 from the contemplation of noble deeds ^' Fr. 29, 'He 
 is a man of sense who rejoices over what he has, instead 
 of grieving over what he has not.' Fr. 30, 'The envious 
 man is his own enemy.' Fr. 32, *A life without a holiday 
 is a long road without an inn. Fr. 92, 'He who would 
 be happy must not be busy about many things, nor en- 
 gage in business beyond his powers.' Fr. 94, 'It is better 
 for a man to find fault with himself than with his neigh- 
 bour.' Fr. 100, 'Reverence thyself no less than thy 
 neighbours, and be equally on thy guard against wrong- 
 
 ^ 'AvdpuTToi Tvxv^ efSwXoJ' iTrXdffavTo, trpo<pa<nv lSiT]s a^ovXlns. 
 - At ;te7d\at W/)^i€j dwb rod dedcdat rd /caXa tQv ipytap yivovrai. 
 
 DEMOCRITUS, 
 
 23 
 
 doing, whether all or none shall know it.' Fr. 107, 
 'Those only are dear to God, who hate injustice.' Fr. 
 109, 'It is the motive, not the outward act, which proves 
 a man just\' Fr. 116, 'Sin is caused by ignorance of 
 the better course.' Fr. 132, 'Education is an ornament 
 in prosperity, a refuge in adversity.' Fr. 138, 'Adver- 
 sity is the only teacher of fools.' Fr. 142, 'Do not 
 seek to know all things, or you will be ignorant of all 
 things.' Fr. 149, 'To bear injury meekly is the part 
 of magnanimity.' Fr. 161, 'He who loves none will be 
 loved by none.' Fr. 245, 'He whom all fear, fears all.^ 
 Fr. 224, 'The doer of injustice is more miserable than 
 the sufferer.' Fr. 225, 'The whole world is the father- 
 land of the good.' Fr. 238, 'Different men have different 
 pleasures, but goodness and truth are reverenced alike 
 by all'.' Fr. Phys. i and 5, 'The objects of sense are 
 not what they are supposed to be ; Atoms and Void alone 
 have real existence. There are two kinds of judgment, 
 the genuine and the obscure: the obscure is that of 
 sight, hearing, feeling and the rest; the genuine is dis- 
 tinct (aTroKCKpi/xeVry) from all of these. Truth lies at the 
 bottom of a well (eV I3v6<2).' 
 
 Democritus closes the series of the pre-Socratic 
 dogmatists, men who devoted themselves to the in- 
 vestigation of Nature as a whole, believing that the 
 investigation would lead to the discovery of the truth. 
 Between these and Socrates, the great regenerator of 
 philosophy, is interposed the sceptical or Sophistic era. 
 
 ^ 'AyaOov ov to firj dSiKieiv, aSXa rb /xrjS^ id^Xeiv. 
 - 'Av6pu)iroi<rt Trdai o-e^affTd iari to dyaObv /cat akrjdh' -qSv 5^ 
 dX\o aWoj. 
 
24 
 
 THE SOPHISTS. 
 
 PROTAGORAS AND GORGIAS. 
 
 25 
 
 That the latter was a natural and necessary stage in the 
 development of Greek thought will be apparent from the 
 following considerations : — 
 
 What we are told about Pythagoras and his disciples 
 must have been more or less true of all the early phi- 
 losophers. The sage, no less than the poet, believed 
 himself the organ of a special inspiration, which, in the 
 case of the former, revealed to him the inner truth of 
 nature; those who were worthy to receive the revelation 
 listened with reverence to his teaching, and rested their 
 faith implicitly on their master's authority. But when 
 different schools sprang up, each asserting their own 
 doctrines with equal positiveness; when the increase of 
 intercommunication spread the knowledge of these con- 
 tradictory systems throughout the Greek-speaking world ; 
 when philosophical questions began to be popularized by 
 poets like Euripides, and discussed in the saloons of a 
 Pericles or an Aspasia; when Zeno's criticisms had made 
 clear to the public, what had been an esoteric truth 
 to the hearers of Parmenides and Heraclitus, that not 
 merely traditional beliefs, but even the evidence of the 
 senses was incapable of standing against the reason of 
 the philosophers, — the result of all this was a widespread 
 scepticism either as to the existence of objective truth 
 altogether (Protagoras), or as to the possibility of the 
 attainment of physical truth by man (Socrates). If we 
 remember at the same time the incredibly rapid develop- 
 ment in every department of life which took place in 
 Greece and especially in Athens during the 5th cen- 
 tury B.C.; the sense, which must have forced itself on all 
 the more thoughtful minds, of the incompetency of the 
 old beliefs to explain the problems of the new age which 
 
 J 
 
 was dawning upon them; and on the other hand the 
 growing importance of oratory and the immense stimulus 
 to ambition held out, in a state like Athens, to those 
 who were of a more practical turn of mind, — we shall 
 not be surprised if there was much curiosity to learn the 
 opinions of the most advanced thinkers, and much eager- 
 ness to acquire the argumentative power by which a 
 Zeno could make the worse cause appear the better. 
 The enlightened men who came forward to supply this 
 demand called themselves by the name of Sophists, or 
 professors of wisdom. They were the first who made a 
 profession of the higher education, and some of them 
 amassed considerable fortunes by their lectures on rhetoric, 
 the art of speaking, which was also made to include in- 
 struction in regard to political and social life. The 
 speculative interest of the older philosophers was in them 
 changed into a predominantly practical interest, ist, as 
 to how to acquire wealth and notoriety for themselves, 
 and 2ndly, as a means to this, to attract by omniscient 
 pretensions, by brilliant declamation and startling para- 
 dox, clever and ambitious young men of the richer 
 classes; and then to secure their continued discipleship 
 by careful training with a view to the attainment of 
 political power \ 
 
 Protagoras of Abdera (b.c. 490 — 415) and Gorgias 
 of Leontini in Sicily (b.c. 480 — 375) are the earliest of 
 the so-called Sophists. Protagoras taught in Sicily and 
 at Athens, from which latter place he was banished on a 
 
 ^ The general features of the Sophistic period are photographed 
 in the Clouds of Aristophanes, and in Thucydides' chapters on the 
 Plague of Athens and the Corcyrean revolution, and his speeches 
 generally. 
 
M 
 
 26 
 
 T//E SOPHISTS. 
 
 IIIPPIAS AND PRODIEUS. 
 
 27 
 
 t 
 
 charge of impiety in consequence of his treatise on Theo- 
 logy, in which he declared his inability to arrive at any 
 conclusion as to the nature or even the very existence of 
 the Gods'. His treatise on Truth began with the famous 
 sentence, *Man is the measure of all things;' meaning 
 that truth is relative, not absolute, that what each man 
 holds to be true is true to him; and similarly in regard 
 to conduct, that it is impossible to pronounce universally 
 that one kind of conduct is right, another wrong: right 
 and wrong depend upon opinion; what is generally 
 thought right is right generally; what each thinks right 
 is right for him, just as each man's sensations are true 
 for him, though perhaps not for another; there is there- 
 fore no more reason for one general assertion than for 
 another, perhaps an opposite assertion. It is plain that 
 this was a sort of conciliation-theory naturally springing 
 from the fact of the opposition of philosophical schools : 
 * each of you are equally right relatively, equally wrong 
 absolutely; there is no need for quarrel.' Protagoras 
 also wrote on Grammar and Philology. Gorgias is said 
 to have first come to Athens in B.C. 427, and afterwards 
 to have travelled about giving lectures from town to town. 
 He devoted himself mainly to the cultivation of rhetoric, 
 but also wrote a treatise Trepl <^i;o-€w?, in which he main- 
 tained I St 'that nothing exists' {i.e. doubtless *in the 
 absolute Eleatic sense'); 2nd that, if anything did exist, 
 still it could not be known ; 3rd that, even if it could be 
 known, the knowledge of it could not be communicated 
 to others. Hippias of Elis and Prodicus of Ceos 
 
 ^ irepl fx^v dewv ovK ^xw eld^vai, ovd* uis eiah ovd' ws ovk elaiv 
 iroWd yap tcl KCoXvovra eld^vat, rj re d8r]\6Trj^ Kai ^pa^i/s uv 6 ^ios 
 70V dv^puTTov. Diog. L. IX. 51. 
 
 |i 
 
 were some twenty years younger than Protagoras. The 
 former was best known for his scientific attainments : he 
 is said to have given utterance to the revolutionary senti- 
 ment of the age in the phrase, 'Law is a tyrant over 
 men, forcing them to do many things contrary to nature.' 
 Prodicus is famed for his moral apologue on the Choice 
 of Hercules narrated by Xenophon. He is reported 
 to have considered the Gods of the popular religion 
 to be merely deified utilities, Bacchus wine, Ceres 
 corn, &c. 
 
 But the extreme effects of the disintegration of es- 
 tablished beliefs were not seen in the teachers, but in 
 some of their pupils who were less dependent on public 
 opinion, young aristocrats who fretted under democratic 
 rule, and were eager to take advantage of the disorga- 
 nized state of society in order to grasp at power for them- 
 selves. Such was the Callicles of the Gorgias^ such 
 Critias and Alcibiades, both disciples of Socrates, of 
 whom we have now to speak. 
 
 Socrates was born at Athens 470 b.c; he was the 
 son of Sophroniscus a sculptor, and Phaenarete a mid- 
 wife. While sharing the general scepticism as to the 
 possibility of arriving at certainty in regard to the Natural 
 Philosophy which had formed the almost exclusive sub- 
 ject of earlier speculation, he maintained, in opposition 
 to most of the popular teachers of his time, the certainty 
 of moral distinctions, and laid down a method for the 
 discovery of error on the one side, and the establishment 
 of objective truth on the other. The main lines of his 
 philosophy are given in three famous sentences: (i) that 
 of Cicero, that he brought down philosophy from heaven 
 
His^S^V. 
 
 \ 
 
 28 
 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 to earth'; (2) his own assertion that he practised in re- 
 gard to the soul the art of midwifery (/xaicuriKr?) which his 
 mother had practised in regard to the body, bringing to 
 birth and consciousness truths before held unconsciously"; 
 (3) Aristotle's statement that Socrates was the first to 
 introduce inductive reasoning and general definitions^ 
 But more important than any innovation in regard to 
 method was the immense personal influence of Socrates. 
 His force of will, his indifference to conventionalities, 
 his intense earnestness, both moral and intellectual, con- 
 trasting so strongly with the dilettanteism of ordinary 
 teachers, and yet combined with such universal interest 
 and sympathy in all varieties of life and character, his 
 warm and genial nature, his humour, his irony, his ex- 
 traordinary conversational powers, these formed a whole 
 unique in the history of the world; and we can well be- 
 lieve that they acted like an electric shock on the more 
 susceptible minds of his time. For we must remember 
 that Socrates did not, like earlier philosophers, content 
 himself with imparting the results of solitary meditation 
 to a few favoured disciples: nor did he, like the Sophists, 
 lecture to a paying audience on a set subject; but obey- 
 ing, as he believed, a divine call, he mixed with men 
 of every class wherever they were to be found, cross- 
 questioning them as to the grounds of their beliefs, and 
 endeavouring to awaken in them a consciousness of their 
 ignorance and a desire for real knowledge. His own 
 account of his call is as follows : one of his disciples was 
 
 ^ Cic. Tusc. v. 10. 
 - Plat. Theaet. p. 149 foil. 
 
 3 Ai^o 7a/) koTiv a Tis av aTrodolij "^coKpaTet StKalojs, rovs r iiraK- 
 TLKOvs \6yovs Kal rb bpi^eadai. Kad6\ov. Arist. Jl/eL M. 4. 
 
 SOCRA TES. 
 
 29 
 
 told by the Oracle at Delphi that Socrates was the wisest 
 of men. Socrates could not conceive how this should 
 be, as he was conscious only of ignorance; but he de- 
 termined to question some of those who had the highest 
 repute for wisdom; accordingly he went to statesmen and 
 poets and orators, and last of all to craftsmen, but every- 
 where met with the same response: none really knew 
 what were the true ends of life, but each one fancied that 
 he knew, and most were angry when Socrates attempted 
 to disturb their illusion of knowledge. Thus he arrived 
 at the conclusion that what the oracle meant was that 
 the first step to knowledge was the consciousness of 
 ignorance, and he believed, in consequence of other 
 divine warnings, that it was his special mission to bring 
 men to this consciousness. 
 
 The next step on the way to knowledge was to get 
 clear general notions, by comparing a number of specific 
 cases in which the same general term was employed; or, 
 according to the phraseology of ancient philosophy, to 
 see the One (the kind or genus, the general principle, 
 the law, the idea,) in the Many (the subordinate species 
 or individuals, the particulars, the phenomena, the facts) 
 and conversely to rise from the Many to the One. The 
 process of doing this he called Dialectic, i.e. discourse, 
 since it was by question and answer that he believed the 
 proposed definition could be best tested, and the uni- 
 versal idea which was latent in each individual could be 
 brought to light. Truth and right were the same for all: 
 it was only ignorance, mistake, confusion which made 
 them seem different to different men. And similarly it 
 is ignorance which leads men to commit vicious actions: 
 no one willingly does wrong, since to do right is the 
 
I 
 
 30 
 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 31 
 
 only way to happiness, and every man desires happi- 
 ness*. Thus virtue is a knowledge of the way to happiness, 
 and more generally, right action is reasonable action; in 
 other words, virtue is wisdom, and each particular virtue 
 wisdom in reference to particular circumstances or a par- 
 ticular class of objects. Thus he is brave who dis- 
 tinguishes between what is really dangerous and what is 
 not so, and knows how to guard against danger, as the 
 sailor in a storm at sea; he is just who knows what is 
 right towards men; he is pious who knows what is right 
 towards God; he is temperate who can always distinguish 
 between real and apparent good. Training therefore and 
 teaching are essential to virtue, and above all the training 
 in self-knowledge, to know what are man's needs and 
 capacities, and what are one's own weak points. No 
 action can be really virtuous which is not based on this 
 self-knowledge. 
 
 In regard to religion, Socrates, while often employing 
 language suited to the popular polytheism, held that 
 there was one supreme God who was to the universe 
 what the soul of man was to his body, that all things 
 were arranged and ordered by Him for good, and that 
 man was the object of His special providence and might 
 look for guidance from Him in oracles and otherwise. 
 The soul was immortal, and had in it a divine element. 
 Socrates believed that he was himself favoured beyond 
 others in the warning sign (to Sat/xoVtor) which checked 
 
 1 Compare Xen. Mem. iv. 8. § 6, 'He lives the best life who is 
 always studying to improve himself, and he the pleasantest, who 
 feels that he is really improving,* (aptara ^y]v rovs dpiffTa iirifxeXo- 
 fiipovs ToO ui peXriffTovs yiyv€<r6aij TJdidTa 5^ tous fidXta-ra aladavo- 
 fi^vovs oTt ^eXr/ous yiyvovTai). 
 
 him whenever he was about to take an ill-judged- 
 step \ 
 
 The personal enmity provoked by the use of the 
 Socratic elenchus^ and the more general dislike to the 
 Socratic method as unsettling the grounds of belief and 
 undermining authority, a dislike which showed itself in 
 the Clouds of Aristophanes as early as 423 B.C., com- 
 bined with the democratic reaction, after the overthrow 
 of the Thirty, to bring about the execution of Socrates 
 in the year 399 b.c. The charges on which he was con- 
 demned were that he did not believe in the Gods of the 
 established religion, that he introduced new Gods, and 
 that he corrupted the young: the last charge probably 
 referring to the fact that Socrates freely pointed out the 
 faults of the Athenian constitution, and that many of his 
 disciples took the anti-popular side. 
 
 Our authorities for the life of Socrates are the writings 
 of his two disciples, Xenophon and Plato, which are 
 
 ^ Much has been written on the exact nature of the daifiouiov. 
 I take nearly the same view as Zeller {Socrates tr. p. 94), that it 
 was a quick instinctive movement, analogous in its action to what 
 we know as conscience and presentiment, but not identical with 
 either, combining with a natural sensitiveness for whatever was 
 right and fitting the practised tact acquired by large experience 
 of life. To this sudden decisive mandate of the inward monitor, 
 Socrates ascribed a supernatural origin, because he was unable to 
 analyse the grounds on which it rested, attributing it, as he did all 
 other good things, to the favour and goodness of God. We note 
 here an element of mysticism, which showed itself also in the sort of 
 brooding trance to which he was occasionally liable (cf. Plat. Symp. 
 220). It belonged to his wonderful personality to unite in himself, 
 as perhaps none other but Luther has ever done, robust common- 
 sense with deep religious mysticism, keen speculative interest with 
 the widest human sympathies. 
 
32 
 
 xenophon: 
 
 i 
 
 related to one another much as the Gospel of St Mark 
 to that of St John. Xenophon (440 — 355 b.c.) was a 
 soldier and country gentleman with a taste for literature, 
 who endeavoured to clear his master's memory from the 
 imputation of impiety and immorality by publishing the 
 Metnorabilia^ a collection of his noteworthy sayings and 
 discourses. Other discourses of Socrates are given in 
 his Apologia, Conviviiun^ and CEcotiomicus. What has 
 been said above as to the method and the belief of 
 Socrates may be illustrated by the following passages 
 from the Memorabilia. In a conversation with Euthy- 
 demus ^ the question arises as to the nature of jus- 
 tice. To discover what injustice is, it is necessary 
 to consider what kind of actions are unjust. *It is 
 unjust,' says Euthydemus, *to lie, deceive, rob, &a* 
 On Socrates reminding him that such actions are not 
 thought unjust in the case of enemies, Euthydemus 
 amended his definition by adding 'if practised on a 
 friend.' 'But,' says Socrates, 'it is not unjust in a general 
 to encourage his soldiers by a lie, or in a father to im- 
 pose upon his child by giving medicine in his food, or in 
 a friend to rob his friend of the weapon with which he is 
 about to kill himself.' Euthydemus has no answer to 
 make, so Socrates turns to another point, and asks which 
 is the more unjust, to tell a lie intentionally or unin- 
 tentionally. The answer naturally is that it is worse to 
 lie with intention to deceive. Socrates, arguing on his 
 principle that all virtue is knowledge, asks whether a 
 man must not be taught to be just, as he is taught to 
 read and write, and whether the man who misspells in- 
 
 ^ Mem. IV. 1. 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 
 XENOPHON AND PLATO. 
 
 zz 
 
 
 tentionally does not know his letters better than one who 
 misspells without intending it; whether therefore he who 
 intentionally commits an unjust action must not have a 
 better knowledge of what is just than he who commits it 
 unintentionally, and consequently be a juster man, since 
 justice consists in the knowledge of what is just. Socrates 
 then proceeds to show that Euthydemus' ideas of what 
 is really good are no less confused and self-contradictory 
 than his ideas about justice, and Euthydemus goes away 
 convinced that he knows nothing, and thinking himself 
 no better than a slave. ' Such,' adds Xenophon, * was a 
 frequent result of conversing with Socrates; in many 
 cases those who had been thus humiliated kept out of 
 his way for the future; these he called cowards; but 
 Euthydemus on the contrary thought his only hope of 
 improving himself was to be continually in the society 
 of Socrates, and Socrates, finding him thus docile and 
 eager to improve, taught him simply and plainly what he 
 thought it most useful for him to know.' 
 
 I have selected this conversation for the sake of 
 comparison with a conversation on the same subject 
 which I have quoted below from Plato's Republic. It 
 is interesting to note that it ends with a negative 
 conclusion, as so many of the Platonic dialogues do, 
 its object being to destroy a false belief of know- 
 ledge and awaken interest, not to communicate any 
 definite doctrines. The paradox as to the superior 
 morality of intentional wrong-doing reappears in Plato. 
 And no doubt, if we are comparing the moral condition 
 of two persons guilty of the same act of treachery 
 or ingratitude, one of whom did wrong knowing it to 
 be wrong, while the other had no feeling of wrong in 
 M. p. , 
 
24 XENOPHON AND PLA TO. 
 
 the matter, we should agree with Socrates in considering 
 the latter more hopelessly immoral than the former': 
 but it is plain, from many passages both in Xenophon 
 and Plato, that Socrates was really carried away by his 
 analogy between the art or science of life (which was his 
 view of virtue) and the particular arts and sciences; and 
 that he never gave due attention to the phenomena of 
 human weakness (aKpaVcia) and moral choice (Trpoatpctris) 
 which were afterwards so carefully analyzed by Aristotle. 
 One other passage from Xenophon may be cited here, 
 as the first appearance of the argument from Final Causes^ 
 Socrates is endeavouring to prove to Aristodemus that 
 the world is the work of a benevolent Creator, not the 
 result of chance. After laying down the principle that 
 the adaptation of means to ends is an evidence of m- 
 telligent activity, he proceeds to point out the adaptations 
 existing between the several parts of man's nature and 
 also between his nature and his environment. Man is 
 endowed with instincts which lead him, independently of 
 reason, to perform those actions which are essential for 
 self-preservation and for the continuance of the species; 
 he has senses capable of receiving pleasure, and he finds 
 objects around him of such a nature as to give him 
 pleasure; he is favoured above all other animals in the 
 possession of hands and in the faculty of speech and the 
 power of thought, through which he is made capable of 
 higher pleasures and brought into communication with 
 higher objects. His consciousness of his own reason is 
 a proof to him of a Reason outside of him, from which 
 that reason was derived. 
 
 1 See Arist. Eth. III. i. 14- 
 
 2 Mem. I. 4, cf. IV. 3. 
 
 EUCLIDES, ANTISTHENES, 
 
 35 
 
 Plato is distinguished from the other disciples of 
 Socrates as the one who represents most truly the 
 many-sidedness of his master, completing indeed and 
 developing what was defective in him and incorporating 
 all that was valuable in the earlier philosophers. Before 
 treating of him it will be convenient to speak shortly of 
 the * imperfect' or one-sided Socraticists. 
 
 Euclides of Megara, the founder of the Megaric and 
 so ultimately of the Sceptic school, was chiefly attracted 
 by the negative teaching of Socrates, and his followers 
 are noted as the inventors of various sophisms which 
 served them as offensive weapons against their oppo- 
 nents. The main positive doctrine attributed to them 
 is that they identified the Good, which Socrates called 
 the highest object of knowledge, with the Absolute One of 
 Parmenides, denying the existence of Evil. 
 
 Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynic and in- 
 directly of the Stoic school, was the caricature of the 
 ascetic and unconventional side of Socrates. Nothing is 
 good but virtue, nothing evil but vice. Virtue is wisdom 
 and the wise man is always perfectly happy because he is 
 self-sufficient and has no wants, no ties and no weak- 
 nesses. The mass of men are fools and slaves, and the wise 
 man is their appointed guide and physician. Acting on these 
 principles the Cynics were the mendicant Friars of their 
 time, abstaining from marriage and repudiating all civil 
 claims, while they professed themselves to be citizens of 
 a world-wide community. On the subject of religion 
 Antisthenes stated explicitly, what was doubtless implied 
 in the teaching of Socrates, that there was only one God, 
 who is invisible and whose worship consists in a virtuous 
 life. 
 
 3—2 
 
36 
 
 ANTISTHENES. 
 
 The name 'Cynic* may have had a reference in the 
 first instance to Cynosarges, the gymnasium in which 
 Antisthenes taught; but it speedily received the conno- 
 tation of dog-hke, brutal, which seems to have been 
 justified by the manners of some members of the school. 
 Diogenes, the more famous disciple of Antisthenes, was 
 fond of speaking of himself as o kvwV, and it seems 
 to have been a usual thing with the Cynics, as with the 
 other Socratics, to draw inferences as to the true and 
 unsophisticated nature of man, from the habits of dogs and 
 other animals*. The aim of the school being to return 
 from a corrupt civilization to a state of nature, they put 
 forward three main 'Counsels of Perfection,' as we may 
 call them, by which this was to- be attained, freedom 
 (cXcv^fpta), frankness or outspokenness (7ra/)/>r;o-ia), and 
 self-sufficingness or independence (avrapKcia). The 
 Cynics, and especially Diogenes, were famous for their 
 pithy sayings and for their pungent biting wit. The 
 following are taken from Mullach's collection. Antis- 
 thenes Fr. 65, *Give me madness rather than pleasured' 
 Fr. 88, * If you pursue pleasure, let it be that which 
 follows toil, not that which precedes it.' Fr. 64, *The 
 only pleasure that is good is that which does not need to 
 be repented of.' Fr. 55, 'To be in ill repute is good, 
 
 ^ Compare in Mullnch's Collection of Fragments, Diog. § 33, 
 'other clogs bite their enemies, but I my friends for their good;' 
 also § 122, § 145, § 190, § 210, &c. In § 286 men are said to be 
 'more miserable than beasts because of their luxury and effeminacy. 
 If they would live the same simple lives, they would be equally free 
 from diseases whether of mind or body.' Similarly Plato in the 
 Rcpiihlic makes the dog his pattern for the education and mode of 
 life of the Guardians. See il 375 foil., and v 451 foil. 
 
 ^ IJi,avcir}i> fxaWvv rj riaOtirjv. 
 
 ANTISTHENES. 
 
 37 
 
 as toil is good.' Fr. 105, 108, to the question 'what he 
 had gained from philosophy?' he replied 'to be able 
 to endure my own company;' 'what kind of learning was 
 the most necessary?' 'to unlearn what is evil.' Fr. 44, 
 discussing with Plato the nature of general conceptions, 
 he said', T can see this horse, but not your ideal horse.' 
 'Yes,' said Plato, 'for you have the sight with which this 
 horse can be seen, but you have not acquired the sight 
 with which the ideal can be seen.' We read of similar 
 encounters between Diogenes and Plato; thus, by way 
 of ridiculing the latter's definition of man, a 'featherless 
 biped,' Diogenes brought a plucked fowl into the lecture- 
 room; upon which Plato is said to have amended his defi- 
 nition by adding TrXaruoJi v^o?, 'with broad nails' {Fr. 124). 
 On another occasion he is said to have come into Plato's 
 house when he was entertaining some friends, and trampled 
 on the beautiful carpets, saying, 'thus I trample on Plato's 
 pride;' to which Plato replied, 'with no less pride, Dio- 
 genes".' The story of his interview with Alexander is 
 familiar to every one. Among other characteristic sayings 
 may be mentioned Fr. 281, Tt belongs to the Gods to want 
 nothing, to godlike inen to want as little as possible.' 
 Fr. 113, 'Oppose to fortune courage, to law nature, to 
 passion reason.' Fr. 295, 296, 'Nothing can be accom- 
 plished without training (arxKrycrts). Training of the soul 
 is as necessary as that of the body. AH things are 
 possible by training.' We read that he crowned himself 
 with the pine-wreath, claiming to have won a greater 
 victory than that at the Isthmia, in his contest with 
 
 ' "lirirou fjL^v 6pQ, l-tnr{)Tr}Ta 5k oi'x opQ. 
 tr. 82, llaTtM Tov llXdrwi'os Tv<pov. 'Er^pt^ ye TiLxpip, iSioyeves. 
 
38 
 
 ANTISTIIENES. 
 
 poverty, disgrace, anger, grief, desire, fear, and, above all, 
 pleasure (Fr. 294). 
 
 In spite of a good deal of exaggeration and some- 
 thing of charlatanry, it is probable that the influence 
 of the early Cynics was not without its use in awaking 
 men to a higher view of life; but it was not till the time 
 of the Roman Empire that Cynicism became a real 
 power, fostering freedom of thought and speech in 
 the midst of the soul-crushing despotism of a Nero 
 or a Domitian '. If at times the Cynic reminds us of the 
 'all-licensed fool' of the Middle Ages, at other times, as 
 m the striking discourse in which Epictetus bids a friend 
 pause before he assumes that name, he rises almost to the 
 sublimity of a Hebrew prophet. Epictetus there reminds 
 his friend that *to be a Cynic is not merely to wear coarse 
 clothing, to endure hard fare, to beg his bread, to rebuke 
 luxury in others; it is to stand forward as a pattern of 
 virtue to all men, to be to them the ambassador of Zeus, 
 showing them how far they have strayed from what 
 IS right and true, how they have mistaken good for evil, 
 and evil for good. It is the duty of the Cynic to shame 
 men out of their peevish murmurings by himself main- 
 taining a cheerful and contented disposition under what- 
 ever pressure of outward circumstances. If reviled and 
 persecuted, it is his duty to love his persecutors and, far 
 from appealing to the courts against ill-usage, to render 
 thanks to God for giving him an opportunity of exer- 
 cising his virtue and setting a brighter example to others. 
 While fearless in reproving vice, he should avoid giving 
 
 1 See Epict. Diss. iii. 22, and Bernays' very interesting tract 
 Lucian imd die Kynikcr. 
 
 ARISTIPPUS. 
 
 39 
 
 unnecessary offence, and endeavour, as far as possible, to 
 recommend his teaching, not only by persuasiveness 
 of speech, but also by manner and personal appearance, 
 never allowing hardness to degenerate into rudeness 
 or coarseness. If the Cynic were living in a society 
 of wise men, it might be his duty to marry and bring up 
 children like himself; but as things are, he must look 
 upon himself as a soldier in active service, and keep 
 himself free from all ties v/hich might interfere with 
 his great work of delivering the Divine message to the 
 blind and erring world.' 
 
 Aristippus of Cyrene the founder of the Cyrenaic 
 school, resembled Antisthenes in dwelling exclusively 
 upon the practical side of his master's teaching. Holding 
 that we can never be conscious of anything beyond 
 our own feelings, he held of course that it was impossible 
 to attain objective knowledge. We each have feelings of 
 what we call sweetness, whiteness, and so on, but what is 
 the nature of the object which causes those feelings, and 
 whether the feelings which others call by the same name 
 are really the same as our feelings, on these points we 
 know nothing. The only thing of which we can be sure, 
 the only thing of importance is, whether our feelings are 
 agreeable or disagreeable. A gentle movement of the mind 
 is agreeable and we call it pleasure; a violent movement 
 is disagreeable and we call it pain. Every pleasure is in 
 itself equally desirable, but we may get a greater amount 
 of pleasure by one sort of action than by another. Thus 
 Aristippus interpreted the somewhat ambiguous language 
 of Socrates about happiness in a purely eudaemonistic 
 sense, and declared that the only rule of life was to enjoy 
 
 f - 
 
40 
 
 ARISTIPPUS. 
 
 the present moment. But for such enjoyment it is not 
 enough simply to follow the passing impulse. The 
 immediate pleasure obtained by gratifying an impulse 
 may be more than balanced by a succeeding pam. The 
 mmd must be trained by philosophy to estimate and 
 compare pleasures and pains, to master its impulses 
 where their indulgence would lead to an overplus of pain, 
 to be able promptly to discern and to act upon the 
 possibilities offered by every situation of life, keeping 
 itself ever calm and free, unfettered by the prejudices and 
 superstitions of the vulgar. Accordingly it was the 
 boast of Aristippus, no less than of Antisthenes, *w/7// res, 
 non me rebus suhjungere conor\' His apophthegms and 
 witticisms were scarcely less famous than those of 
 Diogenes. The following may suffice as specimens. 
 
 (Mullach, Fr. 6,) asked what good he had gained from 
 philosophy, he replied 'to converse freely (^V^aAtw?) 
 with all.' Fr. 8 and 15, asked why philosopliers seek 
 the rich and not the rich philosophers, he replied, 
 'because the former know what they need, the latter 
 do not. The physician visits his patient, but no one 
 would prefer to be the sick patient rather than the 
 healthy physician.' Fr. 30, when reproached for his 
 intimacy with Lais, he defended himself in the words 
 lx<o Aai5a tt'W ovK ^xofjcai. Fr. 53, 'He is the true 
 conqueror of pleasure, who can make use of it without 
 being carried away by it, not he who abstains from it 
 altogether.' Fr. 50, Dionysius reminded him, on his 
 begging for money, how he had once said that a 
 philosopher could never be in want. *Give the money,' 
 said he, 'and we will discuss that point afterwards.' 
 
 ^ See Horace £/>J>. i. 17. 13 — 32. 
 
 il 
 
 PL A TO. 
 
 41 
 
 The money being given, he said, 'You see it is true, 
 I am not in want.' (Compare with this the manner 
 in which he got his wants supplied in shipwreck, Fr. 61.) 
 Among the more prominent members of this school 
 was Theodorus, surnamed the Atheist, who lived towards 
 the close of the 4th century, b.c. Objecting to the 
 doctrine of his predecessor on the ground that it did 
 not leave sufficient scope to wisdom, since pleasure and 
 pain are so much dependent on outward circumstances, 
 he put forward as the chief good, not the enjoyment of 
 passing pleasure, but the maintaining of a calm and cheer- 
 ful frame of mind. The anecdotes related of him have 
 quite a Stoic ring. Thus, when Lysimachus threatened 
 to crucify him, he answers 'keep your threats for your 
 courtiers : it matters not to Theodorus wliether his body 
 decays in the earth or above the earth.' Euhemerus, 
 the rationalizing mythologist so much quoted by the 
 Fathers, is said to have been a pupil of his. His contem- 
 porary, Hegesias, called Treca-LddvaTo^ from his gloomy doc- 
 trine, considered that, as life has more of pain than 
 pleasure, the aim of the wise man should be not to 
 obtain pleasure, but to steel himself against pain. Thus 
 in the end the Cyrenaic doctrine blends with the Cynic. 
 
 Plato', the 'deus philosophorum' (Cic. N. D. 11 32), 
 was born of a noble family at Athens 428 B.C. and, Hke 
 his brothers, Glaucon and Adimantus, and his relations 
 Critias and Charmides, became a disciple of Socrates in 
 408 B.C. After the death of his master he left Athens 
 and lived at Megara with Euclides. From thence he 
 
 ^ The best complete edition is Stallbaum's with Latin notes, the 
 best English translation Jowett's in 5 vols. Oxford, 1875. 
 
42 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 visited Cyrene, Egypt, Magna Graecia and Sicily. After 
 nearly ten years of travelling he took up his residence 
 again at Athens in 389 B.C. and began to lecture in the 
 gymnasium of the Academia. At the request of Dion 
 he revisited Sicily in 367 with a view of winning over 
 Dionysius the Younger 10 the study of philosophy, and 
 again in 361 in the hope of reconciling him to Dion; 
 but he was unsuccessful in both attempts, and indeed 
 seems to have been himself in considerable danger from 
 the mercenaries of the tyrant. He died in his eightieth 
 year, b.c. 347. 
 
 Building on the foundation of Socrates, he insists, no 
 less than his master, on the importance of negative 
 Dialectic, as a means of testing commonly received 
 opinions ; indeed most of his Dialogues come to no 
 positive result, but merely serve to show the difficulties 
 of the subject discussed and the unsatisfactory nature of 
 the solutions hitherto proposed \ As he makes Socrates 
 the spokesman in almost all the Dialogues, it is not 
 always easy to determine precisely where the line is to be 
 drawn between the purely Socratic and the Platonic 
 doctrine, but the general relation of the one to the other 
 may be stated as follows. 
 
 In his theory of knowledge Plato unites the Socratic 
 definition with the Heraclitean Becoming and the Eleatic 
 Being ^ Agreeing with Heraclitus that all the objects of 
 the senses are fleeting and unreal in themselves, he held 
 
 ^ These are classified by Thrasyllus as X67ot ^ttjtikoi, dialogues 
 of search, in opposition to the \6701 vcprjyrfTiKoi, dialogues of exposition. 
 Among the sub-classes of the former are the fxaievriKoL (obstetric), 
 and ireipaoTiKoL (testing). 
 
 2 See Aristotle Md. a 6. 987, m 4. 1078. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 43 
 
 that they are nevertheless participant of Being in so far 
 as they represent to us the general terms after which they 
 are named. 7'hus we can make no general assertion 
 with regard to this or that concrete triangular thing : it is 
 merely a passing sensation : but by abstraction we may 
 rise from tlie concrete to the contemplation of the Ideal 
 triangle, which is the object of science, and concerning 
 which we may make universal and absolutely true 
 predications. If we aj.proach the Ideal from below 
 from the concrete particulars, it takes the form of the 
 class the common name, the definition, the concept, 
 the Idea; but this is an incomplete view of it The 
 Ideal exists apart from, and prior to, all concrete 
 embodiment. It is the eternal archetype of which the 
 sensible objects are the copies. It is because the soul in 
 Its pre-existeiit state is already familiar with this archetype 
 that It is capable of being reminded of it when it sees its 
 shadow in the phenomenal existences which make up the 
 world of sense". AH learning is reminiscenced What 
 
 W '7^' Tt"' '''" '^^^^^^^r the magnificent ode in which 
 Wordsworth has embodied Plato's sublime conception. The fact 
 which underhcs it was well illustrated by the late Prof. Sed^^wick 
 commentmg on Locke's saying that -the mind previous "o ex- 
 perience IS a sheet of white paper" (the old rasa tabula), -Naked 
 he comes from his mother's womb, endowed with limbs and senses 
 indeed, well fitted to the material world, yet powerless from want of 
 use: and as for knowledge, his soul is one unvaried blank- yet has 
 this blank been already touched by a celestial hand, and when 
 plunged m the colours which surround it, it takes not its tinge from 
 accident, but design, and comes forth covered with a glorious 
 pattern. Discourse, p. 53. The Common-sense Philosophy of the 
 Scotch and the a /;w/ judgments of Kant are other forms of the 
 same doctrine. 
 
 2 Cf. Meno, p. 81. and Grote's Plato 11. p. 7, 'Socrates illustrates 
 
44 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 45 
 
 cannot be traced back to this intuitive consciousness 
 in the soul itself is not knowledge, but mere opinion. 
 Dialectic is the means by which the soul is enabled 
 to recover the lost consciousness of the Ideal. The 
 highest Ideal, which is the foundation of all existence 
 and all knowledge, is the Ideal Good or Goodness (77 
 lUo. rov dyaOov), personified in God. He, as the Creator 
 or Demiurgus, formed the universe by imprinting the 
 ideas on formless chaotic Matter. The process of 
 creation is described in the Ti/;meus under the form 
 of a myth, Plato holding, like Parmenides, that it was 
 not possible to arrive at more than a symbolical adum- 
 bration of physical truth. The cause and ground of 
 creation is the goodness of God, who seeks to extend 
 his own blessedness as widely as possible. He begins 
 his work by constructing the soul of the world out of 
 the two elements before him, the immutable harmo- 
 nious Ideals and changing discordant Matter. This soul 
 he infuses into the mass of matter, which thereupon 
 crystallizes into the geometrical forms of the four 
 elements, and assumes the shape of a perfect sphere 
 rotating on its axis. The Kosmos thus created is divine, 
 imperishable and infinitely beautiful. Further, each 
 
 the position, that in all our researches we are looking for what we 
 have once known but have forgotten, by cross-examining Meno's 
 slave; who, though wholly untaught, and never having heard 
 any mention of geometry, is brought by a proper series of questions 
 to give answers out of his own mind furnishing the solution of a geo- 
 metrical problem. From the fact that the mind thus possesses the 
 truth of things which it has not acquired in this life, Socrates infers 
 that it must have gone through a pre-existence of indefinite dura- 
 tion.' The same argument is used in the P/iacc/o to prove the 
 immortality of the soul. 
 
 i 
 
 element is to have living creatures belonging to it. 
 Those belonging to the element of fire are the Gods, 
 both the heavenly bodies and those of whom tradition 
 tells us. All these were fashioned by the Demiurgus 
 himself, but the creatures belonging to the other elements, 
 including the mortal part of man, were the work of the 
 created gods. The immortal part of man, the reason, 
 is of like substance with the soul of the world, and was 
 distributed by the Demiurgus amongst the stars till the 
 time came for each several particle to enter the body 
 prepared for it by the created gods, when it combined 
 with two other ingredients, the appetitive (to l-mOvix-qTiKov) 
 and the spirited (to OvfiociSi^) which it had to bring into 
 subjection. If it succeeded, it returned to its star on the 
 death of the body ; if it failed, it was destined to undergo 
 various transmigrations until its victory was complete. 
 In all these physical speculations Plato was much 
 influenced by the Pythagoreans. 
 
 We have now to speak of his ethical doctrines, 
 which were based upon the psychological views mentioned 
 above. The soul is on a small scale what the State, 
 or city, is on a large scale : it is a constitution which 
 is in its right condition when its parts work harmoniously 
 together, when the governing reason is warmly supported 
 by its auxiliary the heart, and promptly and loyally 
 obeyed by the appetites. Thus perfect virtue arises 
 when wisdom, courage and temperance are bound 
 together by justice. The highest good is the being 
 made like to God ; and this is effected by that yearning 
 after the Ideal which we know by the name of Love. 
 
 Thirty-five Dialogues have come down to us under 
 the name of Plato, the greater number of which are 
 
 
I 
 
 46 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 FLA TO, 
 
 all but universally acknowledged to be genuine. Five of 
 these are classified as 'logical' in the catalogue of Thra- 
 syllus; one, the Timaeus, as 'physical;' in the remainder 
 the ostensible purpose commonly is to define the meaning 
 of some ethical term, as the Lac/ies turns on the definition 
 of Courage, the Channides on the definition of Tem- 
 I)erance, the Republic on that of Justice. But, in a 
 writer so discursive, and so little systematic as Plato, it is 
 mipossible to carry out any strict system of classification: 
 all that can be done is to group different dialogues 
 together from one or another point of view; as we may 
 call the Apolo-j>, Crito, Euthyphro and Phaedo Socrati'c 
 in a special sense, because they give the substance 
 of discourses really held by the historic Socrates. Or 
 again we may trace a gradual progress from the simpler 
 and narrower doctrines of the Prota^^oras, the Lysis, the 
 Charmides, the Laches, which hardly pass beyond the 
 Socratic j^oint of view, to the Phaedrus, the Gorgias, the 
 Phaedo, the Symposium, in which the Ideal theory is 
 developed along with the doctrines of pre-existence and 
 immortality until at length we arrive at the culminating 
 point of the Platonic philosophy in the Republic, that un"^ 
 surpassable monument of genius, which stands on the 
 same level in the world of speculation, as the Agamem- 
 non or the Parthenon in the world of Art. We may 
 observe the growth of Pythagorean mysticism in the 
 Timaeus; and finally, in the deeply-interesting dialogue 
 of the Laivs, we may listen to the sadder and sterner 
 tones in which the aged Plato, summing up his life's 
 experience, confesses that he had been too sanguine 
 in his hopes as to what could be effected by philosophy, and 
 avows his belief that the deep-rooted evil in nature and in 
 
 47 
 
 man must be traced back to an evil spirit counterworking 
 the action of the divine spirit in the universe^; and that 
 the lessons of philosophy must be supplemented and en- 
 forced by religion, if they are to have a real practical 
 power over the mass of men. In addition to the extant 
 Dialogues, we find references to lectures of a more esoteric 
 character upon the Chief Good, in which the theory of 
 Ideas seems to have been mixed up with quasi-Pythago- 
 rean speculations on the symbolism of Number. 
 
 Perhaps the best way in which I can employ the brief 
 space at my disposal, in order to give some notion of 
 Plato's manner of treating a subject, will be to append 
 here an abstract of the Republic^, and then to illustrate, 
 from that and from other dialogues, his three styles, dialec- 
 tical, expository, and allegorical. 
 
 In the I St Book of the Republic we have an excellent 
 example of a dialectical discussion, which will be given 
 more in detail below; upon the nature of Justice or 
 Righteousness. The conclusion arrived at is that Justice 
 is in all respects superior to injustice, the opposite thesis 
 having been maintained by Thrasymachus, and that the 
 just man is happier than the unjust, not only because he 
 is loved by the Gods and by all good men, but because 
 Justice is that quality of the soul by which it is enabled 
 to perform well its proper functions. Socrates however 
 allows that the discussion had been too rapid, and that 
 they ought to have determined the exact nature of justice 
 before arguing as to its effects. Accordingly in the 2nd 
 Book two of his disciples put forward the difficulties they 
 
 ^ Cf. X. 
 2 
 
 896. 
 
 On the Republic see the interesting paper by Mr Nettleship in 
 ' Hellenica,' and the translation by Davies and Vaughan. 
 
 jaflaLAaM-ULABflaaasjiii ytfiifa-'fi 
 
48 
 
 FLA TO. 
 
 feel on the subject, and beg of Socrates to prove, if he can, 
 that justice is not only good in its results, but good and 
 desirable in itself. Though men agree to commend justice, 
 yet they generally do this in such a way as to imply that, 
 if a man could practise injustice without fear of detection 
 and retaliation or punishment, he would be happier than a 
 just man who suffered under a false imiuitation of injustice, 
 particularly if it be true that the favour of the Gods may 
 be won by sacrifices and offerings, irrespectively of the 
 moral character of the worshipper. 
 
 Socrates commences the expository portion of the 
 dialogue by proposing to examine the nature of justice 
 and injustice on a larger scale in the State. Tracing the 
 rise of the State we shall be able to see how justice 
 and injustice spring up within it. Society is founded in 
 the wants of the individual : men enter into partnership 
 because no one is sufficient to himself Experience soon 
 teaches the advantages of division of labour: thus one is 
 a husbandman, another a builder, another a clothier; and 
 with the growth of the community a whole class of dis- 
 tributors are needed in addition to the producers. If the 
 State becomes wealthy and luxurious it will speedily 
 be involved in war, and we shall need a standing army of 
 thoroughly trained soldiers. Like good watch-dogs, they 
 must be brave to resist the enemy, while at the same 
 time they are gende towards the citizens whom they 
 guard. They must be carefully selected and trained 
 up from their earliest years to be true Guardians of the 
 State, trained in mind by music (including under this 
 term literature), trained in body by gymnastics. The 
 eadiest training will be that by means of tales partly 
 fictitious and partly tnie. Tales, such as those of Homer 
 
 I 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 49 
 
 >; 
 
 and Hesiod, which attribute wicked actions to the Gods, 
 or represent the heroes as mastered by passion or be- 
 moaning the approach of death, must be altogether 
 excluded, and only such aduiitted as inculcate truth, 
 courage, self-control, and trust in the unchanging good- 
 ness of God. God, being perfectly good, can never 
 deceive, never J^e the cause of evil : when he sends what is 
 apparently evil, it is really good in the form of chastisement. 
 But not only the substance of these tales, but the form 
 also must be under strict regulation. The style, the 
 rh)thm and the music must all be simple, grave and 
 dignified, expressive of the feelings of a noble and 
 virtuous man, never stooping to imitate folly or vice. 
 Similarly in every branch of art, our youthful Guardians 
 must be familiarized with all that is beautiful, graceful 
 and harmonious, in order that they may learn instinctively 
 to hate what is ugly, and thus may be fitted to receive 
 the fuller teaching of reason, as they advance in years. 
 The use of gymnastic is not only to train the body, but 
 to develop the spirited element in the mind, and so 
 supplement the use of music, which develops especially 
 the philosophic element and by itself might induce too 
 great softness and sensitiveness. For this second branch of 
 education we need the same rules as for the first; it 
 must be simple, sober, moderate. When our Guards 
 have been thus trained, we shall select the ablest, the 
 most prudent, the most public-spirited, to be governors or 
 chief Guardians; the rest we shall call the ^Auxiliaries.' 
 To prevent jealousies we must instil into all the citizens 
 the belief that the Guardians are born with a certain 
 mixture of gold in their composition, the Auxiliaries with 
 a like mixture of silver, and the inferior classes with 
 
 M. p. A 
 
50 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 brass and iron ; that it is the duty therefore of the rulers 
 carefully to test the nature of each citizen, and not allow 
 one of golden nature to remain in a lower class, or one of 
 iron in the higher, since the city is fated to perish if ever 
 brazen or iron men become its Guardians. Finally the 
 Guardians and Auxiliaries are to live together in a camp, 
 having no private property or home, but maintained 
 by the contributions of the other citizens. Otherwise 
 they will become tyrants rather than Guardians, wolves 
 mstead of watch-dogs. 
 
 Adeimantus here objects that the Guardians will be 
 worse off than the other citizens. To which Socrates 
 replies that the end of the true legislator is not to make 
 any particular class happy, but to provide that each class 
 and each citizen shall perform aright their proper function, 
 and thus contribute to the general welfare of the city as 
 a whole One of the duties of the Guardians will be 
 to take care that the citizens are not unfitted for their 
 work or estranged from each other by the entering in 
 either of poverty or riches. Another will be to prevent 
 the city outgrowing its proper limits and losing its unity 
 in that way: a third to guard against any innovation 
 in the constitution, especially as regards the training 
 of the Guardians themselves. 
 
 The State being thus fully organized, we have now to 
 look for justice in it. If it is a perfect State, it must 
 possess all virtue, i.e. it must be wise, brave, temperate 
 and just. If we can discover the three former charac- 
 teristics in our State, then the virtue which remains 
 unaccounted for will be justice. Now the State is 
 wise in the wisdom of its Guardians; it is brave in 
 the bravery of its Auxiliaries, who have learnt in the 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 51 
 
 course of their training to form a true estimate of 
 what is, or is not, really formidable, and have acquired, 
 through the same training, sufficient strength of mind to 
 hold fast to these convictions in spite of all temptation. 
 Temperance is another name for self-mastery, by which 
 we understand the subordination of a lower self to 
 a higher self in the individual: in our State it will mean 
 the willing obedience of all the citizens to the Guardians 
 who form the smallest class. Finally justice is that 
 principle of conduct which lies at the root of all these, 
 and which we assumed in the very foundation of our 
 State, the principle, namely, that each citizen should 
 do his own work without meddling with others. Our 
 citv will be just, as long as each class in it confines itseU 
 to its own proper work; it will become unjust, when one 
 class usurps the position of another, especially if a lowei 
 class usurps that of a higher. 
 
 We have now to apply this analogy to the individual. 
 As there are three classes in the State, so there are three 
 parts or elements existing in the individual mind. One 
 is Appetite {jo iirL6vfir]TLK6v)y such as we are conscious 
 of when we thirst; another Reason (to Xoyto-rtKoV), which 
 at times forbids us to drink, though thirsty; the third 
 Spirit or the sense of honour, (to ^v/xo€t8es), which at 
 times assists the reason to keep under the appetites, 
 at times itself chafes and frets, like a wild horse, under 
 the control of reason. The virtues then of the individual 
 will be analogous to those of the State. He will be wise 
 through the wisdom of the rational element within him ; 
 brave, through the courage of the spirited or irascible 
 element; temperate, through the willing obedience of 
 the two inferior elements to the superior; just, when each 
 
 4—2 
 
1 
 
 52 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 53 
 
 part of the soul performs its own proper function without 
 encroaching upon the others. And this inward harmony 
 will show itsdf outwardly in just deeds, while injustice is 
 an unnatural discord and disease in the soul, and mani- 
 fests its presence outwardly in all unjust and criminal 
 actions. From this it must follow that justice in itself, 
 apart from its consequences, must be always the greatest 
 good, and injustice the greatest evil of the soul, as 
 health is the greatest good and disease the greatest evil 
 of the body. 
 
 In the 5th Book Socrates explains at length the 
 community of women and children to which he had 
 before alluded. The greatest evil to a State being 
 separation of interests, and the greatest good being 
 unity of interests and harmony of feeling, it must be 
 our object to weld the whole city into one body, in 
 which every part sympathizes with every other part, and 
 the separate parts cease to talk of 'mine' and *not mine,' 
 but all together speak of * ours.' But, as long as we have 
 separate homes and separate famiHes, we cannot hope for 
 this complete blending of interests. It will be otherwise in 
 our model State. Our women will go through the same 
 training as the men; for the common opinion which restricts 
 all women to a narrow circle of family duties is altogether 
 contrary to nature : women have the same variety of 
 aptitudes and ability as men ; they only differ from men 
 in being weaker. As we do not refuse to make use 
 of female watch-dogs because they are weaker than the 
 male, so we shall not forbid a woman to be a Guardian if 
 she shows the requisite qualifications for the office. In 
 regard to the rearing of children, it will be the duty of 
 the rulers to follow the example of skilful breeders, and 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 i!i 
 
 sec lire the best offspring by selecting the best parents. No 
 union of Guardians or Auxiliaries will be allowed without 
 the sanction of the rulers, and the children will be 
 removed at once to a state-establishment, where they 
 will be brought up under the charge of nurses, unknown 
 to their parents; but every child will regard every man of 
 mature age as a father; and all of the same age will be to 
 each other brothers and sisters. 
 
 It is a question how far this ideal is capable of being 
 put into practice. The only chance of it would be by the 
 union of political power and philosophy in the same 
 person. And here it becomes necessary to distinguish 
 between the true philosopher and the pretender. The 
 true philosopher, while he eagerly pursues every kind of 
 wisdom and is enamoured of every kind of beauty, is 
 never satisfied with the contemplation of isolated truths 
 or of individual beautiful objects, but presses onwards 
 till he sees the Ideal itself, which alone is always true, 
 always beautiful, and is the cause of beauty and truth 
 in other things by entering into them and irradiating 
 them with some faint gleams of its own perfection. One 
 who is thus familiar with the Ideal will be most likely to 
 keep continually before his eyes the type of the perfect 
 State, and to make laws in accordance with it. Having 
 hi; mind occupied by such high thoughts, he will be in 
 no danger from those temptations to voluptuousness, 
 avarice and other weaknesses, which beset ordinary 
 rulers. He will possess in fact those four characteristics 
 which make up perfect virtue. 
 
 Adeimantus here objects that Socrates' picture of the 
 philosopher is not in accordance with experience. Those 
 who devote themselves to philosophy are generally thought 
 
54 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 55 
 
 useless, if not unprincipled. Socrates replies that this is 
 owing to the corrupt state of public opinion, through which 
 the qualities of mind which go to make a philosopher are 
 per\Trted by adverse influences, while philosophy is left in 
 the hands of pretenders who bring discredit upon it ; or, 
 if here and there a genuine philosopher is to be found, he 
 is powerless to resist the stream, and is content if he can 
 keep himself pure from the world, and retain the hope of 
 a better life to come. In such a State as we are describ- 
 ing, the philosopher would not only reach a higher stage 
 of growth himself, but he would secure his country's 
 welfare as well as his own. The next point then is 
 to show by what kind of education the Guardians may be 
 raised into philosophers. Besides the tests previously 
 mentioned, they must now be exercised in a variety of 
 studies, terminating in the highest of all studies, that of 
 the Ideal Good, the knowledge of which is needed, 
 if they are to be perfect Guardians. What then is 
 the Ideal Good? Socrates answers by an analogy. The 
 Ideal Good is, in the invisible world, which is aj)prehended 
 by the intellect and not by the senses, that which its 
 offspring, the Sun, is in the visible world. As the Sun is 
 the source of life and light to visible things, so the Ideal 
 Good is the source of being and of knowledge in the 
 intelliirible world'. The use of education is to turn 
 
 D 
 
 ^ The analogy may be presented in a parallelism, as follows : 
 
 Sphere. to oparov the visible, ro vot/)t6v the intelligible. 
 
 Supreme Cause. i]\ios. Idea tov dyadov. 
 Effect 
 
 (i) Objective. yeVeo-t?, 'becoming.' ovalay 'being.' 
 (2) Siibjectivo- 
 
 objective. ^u;?, light. a\^f?eta, truth. 
 
 the mind from that which is visible and temporal, and to 
 fix it upon the invisible and eternal. The preparatory 
 studies are Arithmetic, Plain and Solid Geometry, Astro- 
 nomy. Harmonics; he who has been duly trained in these 
 will lie fitted to enter on the crowning study of Dialectic, 
 which does not start with assumed premisses, like the 
 others, but examines and tests the premisses themselves, 
 and will not rest till it has traced back each portion 
 of knowledge to its fundamental idea, and further has 
 seen how all ideas are connected with the Ideal Good. 
 
 I'he subject of education being thus completed, the 
 argument proceeds to the consideration of the different 
 kinds of constitution, and the corresponding varieties of 
 character. Since all that has had a beginning is liable to 
 decay, the time will come when the breed of Guardians 
 will degenerate. The spirited or irascible element will 
 
 (3) Subjective. o>., sight. ^--r^^,, knowledge. 
 
 Human Organ. o^a, the eye. -0., the reason. 
 
 A further parallelism will represent the action of the mmd withm 
 the two spheres. Thus regarded, the visible world is the sphere of 
 opinion (5o,ta<rr6.), the other of knowledge {^v^arov\ and both are 
 capable of subdivision, thus : ^____ 
 
 Object 
 
 lo^aarov, world of 
 opinion. 
 
 images 
 
 things 
 
 Mental 
 
 elKCLaia, 
 
 operation, conjecture 
 
 yvojffTov, world of knowledge. 
 
 TTICTIS, 
 
 faith. 
 
 mathematical 
 abstractions 
 
 Siduoia, discur- 
 sive reasoning, 
 starling from 
 hypotheses. 
 
 ideas 
 
 i/oTjtrts, intui- 
 tion, which 
 tests hypo- 
 theses by the 
 aid of dia- 
 lectic. 
 
56 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 overpower the rational element; and the two upper 
 classes will enslave the third, and devote themselves 
 to wars of conquest. Thus the aristocracy, or govern- 
 ment of the best, will be changed into a 'timocracy' 
 or government of honour, resembHng that of Sparta; and 
 corresponding to this we shall have the timocratical 
 or ambitious man. The next stage in the downward 
 progress will be the cliange from the love of honour and 
 power to the love of wealth, giving rise to an oligarchical 
 government or plutocracy, under which the old harmony 
 wuU entirely disappear, and the city will be divided into 
 two hostile communities, the few rich opposed to the 
 many poor. Correspondingly to this, when the son of an 
 ambitious father is taught by his father's calamities 
 the danger of ambition, he becomes industrious, prudent 
 and parsimonious, providing the means of enjoyment 
 without the skill or the courage to use them. Democracy 
 IS the constitution which succeeds plutocracy, when those 
 who have wasted their property by extravagance offer 
 themselves as leaders to the discontented poor, and with 
 their aid expel the rich and establisli equality of rights. 
 The democratical man is one who uses the money left by 
 his father to gratify every impulse and indulge in every 
 amusement, keeping himself however within certain limits 
 of moderation. Lastly we have the passage from demo- 
 cracy to tyranny, when some popular leader has succeeded 
 in putting down an insurrection of the rich, and having 
 surrounded himself with a body-guard proceeds to estab- 
 lish his power by putting to death the bolder and more 
 able citizens, and grinds down the rest by every kind of 
 extortion and oppression. The tyrannical man is the son 
 of the democratical man, but in him the father's various 
 
 I 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 57 
 
 and comparatively innocent impulses are swallowed up 
 by one over-mastering and lawless passion, which he 
 gratifies at the expense of whatever violence or crime. If 
 the tyrannical man is able to find a sufficient number 
 of followers like himself, he makes himself an actual tyrant 
 in his city and thus attains the summit of wickedness 
 and injustice. 
 
 And now we have to answer the question which 
 of these conditions is the happiest, which the most 
 miserable. There can be no doubt as to which is the 
 happiest, and v»-hich the unhappiest city, but some have 
 maintained that, however unhappy may be the city which 
 is under tyrannical rule, the tyrant himself is happy. But 
 the facts are the same in both cases. As in the State, so 
 in the tyrant, the better part is enslaved to the worse, the 
 soul is for ever agitated by fierce and violent impulses; it 
 is conscious that it is sinking deeper and deeper into 
 wretchedness and crime, and is terror-stricken at the pros- 
 pect of coming vengeance. The same conclusion follows 
 from a consideration of the different kinds of pleasure. 
 Each element of the soul has its appropriate pleasure. 
 Thus he who is governed by reason enjoys the pleasures of 
 wisdom, and extols these above the pleasures derived 
 from honour or from wealth, while those in whom the 
 irascible, or the appetitive element is strongest, magnify 
 these latter pleasures above the former. Whose judgment 
 are we to take? Manifestly that of him who both pos- 
 sesses the faculty of judgment and has had experience of 
 all pleasures, that is, the philosopher ; for he alone has 
 the necessary mental qualifications, and has tasted both 
 the pleasures of appetite and of honour; while the other 
 two have never tasted the pleasures of knowledge. Again 
 
58 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 59 
 
 the pleasures which spring from philosophy are the only 
 pure pleasures: other pleasures are for the most part 
 merely negative, consisting in a momentary release from 
 pam. He that drinks only escapes the pain of thirst for 
 the moment, but he who has become conscious of mental 
 emptiness and feels himself replenished by instruction, is 
 nourished by a food more real and true. Further even the 
 mferior pleasures cannot be fully enjoyed except by one 
 in whose soul reason is supreme. Thus we conclude 
 that It is best for every one to be governed by the divine 
 prmciple of reason residing in his own soul; but if not, 
 that this government nuist be imposed upon him from 
 without; that the worst of all conditions is to be unjust, 
 and then to evade the penalties by which injustice might 
 be cured and the soul restored to health. 
 
 In the Tenth book Plato reverts to the subject of 
 poetry and imitation, and lays down the rule that the only 
 poetry allowed in the model State will be hymns in honour 
 of the Gods and of virtuous men. He then introduces a 
 consideration which, he says, adds tenfold force to all that 
 has been urged in favour of justice, viz. the immortality of 
 the soul, for which he gives the following as a new 
 and additional jjroof. Whatever perishes, perishes in 
 consequence of some particular vice or disease which 
 belongs to it. If there be any thing which can withstand 
 the corroding effect of its own special vice, that thing 
 would be indissoluble and imperishable. The soul is 
 liable to the disease of injustice, but we do not find that 
 it ever dies of this disease. We must conclude therefore 
 that it is imperishable. Thus, in considering the natural 
 consequences of justice, we must not limit ourselves to 
 this life, but must raise our eyes to the eternity beyond. 
 
 -i 
 
 As we have proved that justice is in itself best, we need 
 no longer fear that we shall be thought to base its claim 
 on mere accessories, if we view the facts as they really 
 are, and confess that the just man will always be seen in 
 his true character by the Gods, and will be loved and 
 favoured by them, however he may seem to be neglected 
 with a view to his better training in virtue in this life. 
 For it is impossible, we shall say, that he whose chief 
 object it is to grow like to God, should ever be really 
 neglected by him whom he resembles. And as for man, 
 we shall say that, in the end at any rate, justice and 
 injustice will be detected and will receive their due deserts 
 of honour and dishonour. And yet these rewards are 
 nothing in comparison with those which await the just 
 in Hades, as we gather from the story of Er, who was 
 permitted to return to earth after visiting the unseen 
 world, and brought back with him the report of all that 
 he had witnessed there. 
 
 In dealing with a book so pregnant and suggestive 
 as the Republic, it is difficult to know where comment is 
 likely to be most useful. The few remarks which I am 
 able to make will have reference (i) to Plato's intention 
 in writing the book ; (2) to the circumstances which may 
 have contributed to give it its special form and colouring; 
 (3) to the anticipations of later thought and especially of 
 Christian thought which may be found in it ; (4) to the 
 more striking examples of divergence between Plato and 
 the prevalent views of his own or of later times. 
 
 (i) Some have held that the object of the writer is 
 fully given in the name by which the book is commonly 
 known, and that whatever travels beyond political philo- 
 
6o 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 6i 
 
 \ 
 
 sophy is to be regarded as a part of the scaffolding of the 
 dialogue, or put to the account of Plato's incurable love 
 of rambling. Others have been equally sure that the 
 model State is a mere piece of machinery for the exhi- 
 bition of Justice. Others have considered that its main 
 object was to put forward a new theory of Education. 
 The true view is given in a sentence of the Laws, 'our 
 whole State is an imitation of the best and noblest life'.' 
 The root or foundation of this perfcc^ life is righteousness, 
 which is no spontaneous product of human nature, but 
 must be fostered by careful training ; and that life cannot 
 be fully manifested except in a community. 
 
 Next follows the subordinate question, *Did Plato 
 mean his State to be a practical model, or did he mean 
 it for an ideal, which might guide or suggest legislation, 
 but could not be actually realized in practice ?' His own 
 language seems to waver; thus, while in vr. 502 it is 
 stated that it is indeed difficult to carry out this ideal, but 
 certainly not impossible, if the government were in the 
 hands of philosophers; in ix. 592 Socrates, in reply to 
 Glaucon's remark, that such a city is not to be found on 
 earth, claims no more for it than that perhaps a pattern 
 of it may exist in heaven for him who wishes to behold it, 
 and beholding to organize himself accordingly ; adding 
 that it is of no importance whether it does now, or ever 
 will, exist on earth. This double aspect of the State, in 
 which it appears at one time as an improved Greek city, 
 at another as the ideal society, the ySao-tXeta B^ov or 
 civitas dei, reminds one of the double meaning of Jewish 
 prophecy, by which the changing fortunes of the little 
 
 LcE^. vir. 817 7ra(Ta 7) iroXiTeLa ^vp€(TT7jk€ fJilfjiTjjis tov KaWlffTov 
 Kal dplffTov piov. 
 
 « 
 
 a 
 
 i 
 
 Israelite kingdoms are made to bring out fresh features of 
 the great Messianic idea. 
 
 (2) The impulse which Plato received from the cir- 
 cumstances of his times is partly negative, from the state 
 of affairs in Athens and in Sicily, partly positive, from 
 Egypt, Sparta and the Pythagorean brotherhood. To the 
 natural distaste of the philosophic student for the rule of 
 the unthinking Demos, there was added a distinct repro- 
 bation of some of the existing customs or institutions of 
 Athens, as for instance the seclusion of women,— a feeling 
 which seems to have been widely spread among the 
 Socratic School, perhaps owing in part to the influence of 
 Aspasia,— and then, above all, in Plato's case, indignation 
 at the ingratitude shown towards his master. If this dislike 
 of the rule of the many led him at times to sigh for a 
 paternal despotism, his experience in Syracuse taught 
 him that there was one thing worse than an unprincipled 
 democracy, and that was a selfish and unprincipled 
 tyranny. In Egypt with its fixed system of castes 
 and its long unbroken traditions, in Sparta with its 
 Lycurgean discipline, he beheld the supremacy of Law, 
 the sacrifice of the individual for the good of the whole ' ; 
 in the brotherhood of Pythagoras he saw the same dis- 
 cipline joined to higher and wider aims, not merely the 
 attainment of order and strength in the body politic, but 
 the perfection of human nature as displayed in its best 
 representatives. 
 
 (3) One of the most striking anticipations of later 
 
 thought to be found in the book is the comparison 
 
 between the constitution of the State and that of the soul, 
 
 and the consequent building up of ethics upon the 
 
 1 See Grote's chapter on the lesislation of Lycurgus. 
 
62 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 63 
 
 foundation of psychology. The State is a moral unit; 
 the soul is a composite being, which is then only in a 
 healthy condition when each constituent element is in 
 due relation with the others, and performs its proper 
 functions aright. Just so Bp. Butler in his Sermons 
 insists that we do not fully explain the moral nature of 
 man by giving a list of its various parts or elements, but 
 that it involves also certain natural relations between 
 these parts; that it is the function of reflexion or consci- 
 ence to govern, and of the other elements or principles 
 of man's nature to obey. Plato's psychological analysis 
 is no doubt very defective. He entirely omits the bene- 
 volent affections, which form the instinctive basis of 
 virtue, and limits the emotional part of man's nature to 
 the appetites and the sense of honour, which last how- 
 ever he disguises as a quasi-malevolent affection, thus 
 narrowing it down to one of its secondary developments. 
 Still, here, as elsewhere, he supplied to Aristotle the 
 starting-point for a more accurate analysis, and in giving 
 prominence to spiritedness, or the sense of honour, as a 
 main help to right actions, he has been truer to fact than 
 the great majority of subsequent philosophers. The 
 specification of the four so-called cardinal virtues makes 
 its first appearance in Plato, who assumes it as a thing 
 generally admitted, though he also endeavours, not very 
 successfully, to show that it may be inferred from the 
 nature of the State and of man. His conception of 
 ZiKaiofjvvt], the will to do what is right, is too broad and 
 general to justify its being placed on a level with the 
 other more specific virtues. In this sense it really 
 includes them all; for, if reason performs rightly its work 
 of thinking and governing, the man will be wise and 
 
 
 i 
 
 prudent ; if the spirited element does its part, he will not 
 only be courageous but will exhibit in all his actions a 
 ♦proud submission' to the voice of reason; if the appe- 
 tites work rightly, they will supply all natural wants 
 without overstepping the line of honour and of right. 
 Proceeding to the consideration of the State itself, the 
 idea of a community which is to realize before the eyes 
 of men the pattern of heavenly perfection, 10 develop 
 and strengthen all virtue in its citizens, and to guard 
 them from the pernicious influences to which man's ordi- 
 nary life is exposed^ — such a conception has naturally been 
 looked upon as an anticipation of the Church : and the 
 principle so often insisted on, that the Guardians are not 
 to think of their own happiness but to sacrifice them- 
 selves for their subjects, as the good shepherd sacrifices 
 himself for his sheep^— this naturally recalls the words of 
 the Gospel, contrasting the duties of the Christian governor 
 with the claims made by those who exercise lordship 
 among the Gentiles. Even the strange aberrations of 
 the fifth book, describing the communism of the Guardians, 
 might seem like broken visions of the future, when we 
 think of the first disciples who had all things in common, 
 and, in later days, of the celibate clergy, and the cloisteral 
 life of the religious orders. Of social and political prin- 
 ciples or institutions first enunciated or advocated by 
 Plato, though in part suggested by the practice of Sparta, 
 we may notice the division of labour, and, as a conse- 
 quence of this, the establishment of a standing army, the 
 recognition of the equality of the sexes, the duty of 
 national education for the young, and of self-education 
 
 1 Rep. VI. 491. 
 s I. 345, IV. 420. 
 
64 
 
 PL A TO. 
 
 " 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 65 
 
 continued through life for the philosopher, the limitation 
 of wealth and of population, the abolition of an idle 
 class. In the rules laid down for education the most 
 noticeable points are the importance attached to the 
 early training of the feelings and the imagination by 
 means of fictitious narratives, and the strict censorship 
 over religious and moral instruction. The great principle 
 is laid down that, God being perfectly good, all teaching 
 which represents him as doing wrong, or as the cause of 
 evil, or as capable of change, must be forbidden as false 
 and mjurious. Similarly with regard to the use of Art : it 
 is only admissible where it tends to produce a high and 
 noble temper in the citizens: immoral or enfeebling 
 art, like immoral or enfeebling religion, is to be expelled 
 froni the state. There is much that is interesting in the 
 details of the Platonic education, in regard to which 
 I would refer the reader to xMr Nettleship's excellent 
 paper contained in the volume entitled 'Hellenica.' 
 But beyond all special details, the great, the surpassing 
 merit of the Republic hes in its power to kindle a 
 love of the ideal, to make a man ashamed of preferring 
 lower pleasures to higher, or of living only for himseff 
 or for his own pleasure, instead of living and working 
 for the general good. Plato gives him the spirit to 
 strive after this, because he encourages him to believe 
 in the existence of an unseen world of beauty and of 
 goodness, to which he of right belongs, however much he 
 may have fallen from it ; he tells him that he may be 
 converted from low and earthly thoughts and aims, and 
 be enabled to hold communion with the Divine essence 
 even here by the help of philosophy ; that life should be 
 a commeniatio mortis, and that he who perseveres in the 
 
 J 
 
 I 
 
 practice of justice and the pursuit of wisdom will here- 
 after be readmitted to that august assembly, and dwell in 
 heaven with the Gods and with the wise and just of all 
 ages. It is not to be wondered at that, when they 
 met with teaching like this, some of the Christian 
 Fathers should have thought that Plato must have 
 learnt his wisdom from the Bible, or on the other 
 hand that Celsus should have charged the Evangelists 
 with borrowing from Plato ^ 
 
 (4) Our last point is what may be called the eccen- 
 tricity of Plato. Many of his doctrines were regarded as 
 paradoxes in his own day and have now become common- 
 places, such as, that it is better to suffer than to do 
 wrong, better for the wrong-doer to be detected and 
 suffer punishment than to escape. Other paradoxes we 
 are perhaps on the way to accept. But there are some 
 which are more shocking to the improved feeling of the 
 present day than they were when first uttered. A flagrant 
 example is the communism of the Guardians, of which 
 Mr Jowett writes 'the most important transaction of 
 social life, he who is the idealist philosopher converts 
 into the most l:»rutal. The married pair are to have no 
 relation to each other except at the hymeneal festival . 
 their children are not theirs but the State's, nor is any tie 
 of affection to unite them. Yet here his own illustration 
 from the animal kingdom might have saved Plato from a 
 gigantic error. For the nobler sort of birds and beasts 
 nourish and protect their offspring and are faithful to one 
 another.' The explanation is that women in Athens 
 
 1 See Ackermann, Das Christliche im Plato, p. 3 folk, and Havet 
 Le Christiamsme et Les Origines, I. 203 foil. The view taken by 
 the latter is that of a modern Celsus. 
 
 M. P. 5 
 
 'f-^y^f^p^^i^w^^ i 
 
66 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 67 
 
 at that time were much in the position of Turkish women 
 at the present day. Rome had still to teach the world 
 that the true nursery of patriotism is the Family ; and 
 neither Plato nor any other Greek, unless perchance 
 Euripides, could form any conception of what marriage 
 was destined to become when the proud patriotism of 
 the Roman matron was softened and idealized under the 
 combined influence of Christianity and Teutonism. The 
 romance of affection, so far as it existed, was perverted 
 into an unnatural channel by that evil custom which had 
 run through Greek society like a plague; and tlie glamour 
 of this romance was powerful enough to blind even a 
 Plato in some degree to the foulness which it covered. It 
 is only in his last dialogue, the Laws, that he seems to 
 have discovered its true character and speaks with just 
 severity of its enormity ^ Marriage in Athens was com- 
 monly arranged as a mere matter of business with a view 
 to private aggrandisement ; Plato made it still more a 
 matter of business, but with him the gain sought was a 
 public one, the improvement of the breed of citizens. The 
 chief motive, however, which led him to abolish family hfe 
 was his fear of the unity of the State being dissolved by 
 separate interests ; he thought that these interests would 
 disappear if none could speak of wife or child or property 
 as his own. Aristotle in his criticism has shown how little 
 such mechanical rules would answer the purpose intended'. 
 
 ^ Compare the difLn-ence of tone in Rep. v. 46S and Laws vili 
 836—840. 
 
 - There can be no doubt that Plato's regulations in regard to 
 marriage, like those in regard to the bodily training of women, were 
 in part suggested by the customs of Sparta; where, as Grote says^^ 
 'the two sexes were perpetually intermingled in public, in a way 
 foreign to the habits, as well as repugnant to the feelings, of other 
 
 My space does not allow me to treat of the other 
 stumbling-blocks of the Republic, the expulsion of 
 poets, the principle that philosophers must reign: for 
 all such I must refer the reader to the excellent discussion 
 prefixed to Mr Jowett's translation. 
 
 I proceed now to give examples of Plato's different 
 styles. An analysis of the argument of the first book of 
 the Republic may suffice for his Dialectic. 
 
 This book serves as an introduction to the rest by 
 raising the various difficulties which are to be solved 
 afterwards, or by distinguishing various moral stand- 
 points existing in Athens at the time. Thus the aged 
 Cephalus represents the simple pre-scientific morality of 
 old times; he has a sure instinct of what is right and 
 wrong in action but has never irttempted to theorize 
 about them. His son Polemarchus has advanced a step 
 further, he is ready with a definition of justice taken 
 from Simonides, and is glad to discuss it with Socrates. 
 Thrasymachus is the representative of the new lights 
 to whom the old-fashioned morality and old-fashioned 
 
 Grecian states.' 'The age of marriage was deferred by law until 
 the period supposed to be most consistent with the perfection of 
 the offspring.' * The bride seems to have continued to reside with 
 her family, visiting her husband in his barrack in the disguise of 
 male attire and on short and stolen occasions.' ' To bring together 
 the finest couples was regarded by the citizens as desirable, and 
 by the lawgiver as a duty : no personal feeling or jealousy on the 
 part of the husband found sympathy from any one, and he permitted 
 without difficulty, sometimes actively encouraged, compliances on 
 the part of his wife consistent with this generally acknowledged 
 object. So far was such toleration carried that there were some 
 married women who were recognized mistresses of two houses and 
 mothers of two distinct families.' Hist, of Greece II., p. 509 ^o^^* 
 
 5—2 
 
 f 
 
68 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 maxims are mere ridiculous prejudices: the fetters im- 
 posed by tradition have been broken by reason; man 
 should be guided by nature and not by law, and nature 
 bids him enjoy himself. Lastly in the second book we 
 have the 'third thoughts' of the two Socratics, the doubt 
 whether reason and nature may not after all be nearer to 
 the old traditional, than to the new enlightened view; 
 and the remaining books, as we have seen, are employed 
 in proving that such is the case. 
 
 The points raised in the remarks of Cephalus are (i) 
 in reference to the nature of happiness; it is not mere 
 sensual enjoyment, but rather the calmness which arises 
 from the subjection of the senses' ; not the wealth which 
 enables a man to gratify his desires, but the peace which 
 arises from the harmony of the inner nature; (2) as to 
 the connexion of justice and happiness; the unjust are 
 filled with remorseful fears of judgment to come, the just 
 have hope in their end; (3) as to the definition of justice; 
 it is to speak the truth and repay what is owed. 
 
 AVhen the critical process is to begin, the repre- 
 sentative of the unconscious morality leaves the stage, 
 and his place is taken by Polemarchus. It having been 
 already shown that it is not always just to give back what 
 is owed (e.g. in the case of a madman's sword), the 
 definition is slightly modified and confirmed by the 
 authority of Simonides. It now stands thus: 
 
 'Justice is to" restore to each man his due.' 
 
 "What then is due? 
 
 'Good to friends, harm to enemies.' 
 
 But if we try this definition by facts, we shall not find 
 that it is justice to which we attribute the rendering of 
 
 1 p. 329- 
 
 FLA TO. 
 
 69 
 
 jrood and evil, but now one art, now another, e.g. in disease 
 the art of medicine. It seems therefore that the defini- 
 tion requires limitation. What due thing then is it which 
 justice renders back, and to whom? 
 
 justice renders good to friends, harm to enemies, in 
 war,' to which the following additions are made in course 
 
 of the argument : 
 
 *and in peace also,' 
 'viz. in partnerships,' 
 
 'i.e. money-partnerships,' 
 
 'for keeping money safe.' 
 To which final definition Socrates replies that (i) it 
 makes justice useless, (2) that it implies ingenuity in 
 stealing (on the principle of 'set a thief to catch a thief ) 
 
 and is therefore unjust. 
 
 [To examine this piece of 'dialectic': it is evident that the 
 definilion of Simonides is too objective, not based upon the character 
 or the intention of the just man. but on the thing performed. 
 Polemarchus' mistake is that he conceives justice throughout in the 
 early Socratic manner, as an art, not as a habit. He is wilhng to 
 have it compared with cookery or medicine, and does not see that it 
 is not parallel with these, but a habit of the mind which must show 
 itself in every act. If it is assumed to be an art, it is easy to prove 
 that there is really no place left for it, that every department of 
 human action has its own special art, and that the kind of action 
 singled out as most distinctively just will be either mere inactivity 
 something best performed by an infrangible iron safe or a thorough 
 .acquaintance with the tricks of thieves, and quickwittedness in 
 devising expedients to meet them; but such a science, as it fits a 
 man for attack as much as for defence, has no more right to be 
 called the science of justice than of injustice.^] 
 
 Returning to the original definhion, Socrates asks 
 
 1 Cf. Arist. Eth. V. I. 4. Suva/xts koX e7rt(rr^^T, 5o«?ru;i/ kvo.vTl^u 
 ■n air^ etmt, e^s 5^ r, imuria tQp Iv^vriu^v oi)- ohu dirb r^s U7tems 
 oi) Trp^TTCTaL Td tVa^Tta, dWd rd vyteim {movou. 
 
7^ 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 71 
 
 what is to be understood by 'friends'. Does it mean 
 'those whom a man thinks honest and good'? Then, 
 since we do not ahvays think aright, it may be just to 
 lielp the bad and injure the good. Docs it mean 'those 
 who are really just, whether we think so or not'? Then 
 it may be just to injure those whom we call our friends 
 and to benefit those whom we call our enemies, reversing 
 the original definition. Thus we arrive at the amended 
 definition ; 
 
 'Justice is to help friends, if good, injure enemies, if 
 bad' 
 
 Here Socrates lays hold of another point. Is it 
 consistent with justice to injure, to do harm? Harm, in 
 its true sense, means degrading a man in a moral point 
 of view, making him less just, less righteous. Can it 
 be the part of righteousness to make a man less right- 
 eous ? 
 
 [This high view of what is beneficial and what is harmful recurs 
 in p. 379, where it is shown that God harms none. He may punish 
 and inflict pain, but it is only to bring out good in the end. Man 
 lias no right to harm for the sake of harming. This is the opposite 
 qS the old Greek view that the true manly character was shown in 
 the power and will to favour friends and injure enemies.] 
 
 Polemarchus being silenced, Thrasymachus brings 
 forward a new definition, 
 
 'Justice is the interest of the stronger ; 
 i.e. of the sovereign power in the state.' 
 
 ' It is just for the subject to obey his ruler and to act 
 for his ruler's interest.' 
 
 How then, if the ruler enjoins what is not for his own 
 interest? Then the act will be just by one part of the 
 definition, unjust by the other. 
 
 \ 
 
 Amended definition (i) 'What the stronger imagines 
 to be for his interest is just.' 
 
 Amended definition (2) 'Justice is obedience to the 
 true governor who always enjoins what is for his interest.' 
 
 But the true governor is one who practises the art of 
 government unmixed with other arts, Avho is in fact an 
 impersonation of the art. Now, is the notion of self- 
 interest involved in the art? Compare the pilot's art, the 
 physician's art; they may be combined with other arts, 
 but nothing is essential to them beyond the healing of 
 the sick and the management of the vessel. The art 
 simply exercises an oversight over that to which as an art 
 it belongs; but the art is stronger than that which it 
 oversees; therefore the art provides for the interest of the 
 weaker, and the true governor, who personifies the art, 
 will accordingly act not for his own interest, but for the 
 interest of his subjects, who are the weaker'. 
 
 Thrasymachus brings forward an instance on his side; 
 'why should the ruler, the itoi\x.y\v Xawr, regard the interest 
 of his people in any other light than the shepherd does 
 that of his sheep?' and then lays down broadly the 
 principle that 
 
 'Justice is one's own loss, another's gain; injustice 
 one's own gain, another's loss.' 
 
 ' This may be most clearly seen in the complete in- 
 justice of the tyrant, whom all count happy and enviable ; 
 though they profess to blame injustice on a small scale, 
 because they are afraid of suffering it.' 
 
 Socrates begins by disputing Thrasymachus' illustra- 
 tion, and points out that Thrasymachus is here deserting 
 
 ^ This argument is used by Aristotle Pol. iii. 5. 
 
72 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 his former ground, describing not the true shepherd, but 
 the banqueter or money-maker. If we confine our 
 attention to the art of government, we shall see that it 
 cannot be itself profitable to the governor, because no 
 one will undertake it without a bribe. The bargaining 
 for this bribe belongs to a special art, the art of wages ; it 
 is no more a function of government, than piloting is a 
 function of medicine ; yet a man may recover his health 
 by acting as pilot, just as he might get wages by govern- 
 ing. The governor would not be less a governor if he 
 chose to perform his work gratuitously. As regards the 
 kind of wages offered to induce men to devote their time 
 to study the interests of others in governing them, they 
 are usually paid either in money or honour, or the motive 
 appealed to may be the fear of being misgoverned by 
 others. If it were not for the last motive the best men 
 would prefer to remain subjects, and tlius receive, instead 
 of bestowing, benefit. 
 
 Thrasymachus reasserts that perfect injustice is more 
 profitable than perfect justice, the former being good 
 policy, the latter at best a weak good-nature. Socrates 
 on the other hand proceeds to argue that justice is 
 knowledge, injustice ignorance. For the just man is one 
 who sets limits to his actions, who will never overstep the 
 bounds of justice, or seek to get more than a just man 
 should. On the other hand tlie unjust observes no 
 limits, but seeks to gratify every impulse and to get as 
 much as he can. Which of the two is the scientific 
 character? In the case of the musician and physician it 
 is shown that the scientific are distinguished from the 
 ignorant by this very property of attending to rules, not 
 overstepping the bounds laid down by the masters of the 
 
 « 
 
 PL A TO. 
 
 73 
 
 science. In Hke manner the just man must be scientific 
 as compared with the unjust. 
 
 [The argument turns on the thoroughly Greek conception of the 
 superiority of the limited to the unlimited, the defined lo the un- 
 defined, TTt'/sas to aiz^ipov. Aristotle made limitation, or the avoidance 
 of extremes, a part of his definition of virtue.] 
 
 Socrates then proceeds to overthrow the assertion 
 that 
 
 * Injustice is stronger than justice' 
 
 by showing that if an unjust city is strong, it can only be 
 so on the principle of * honour among thieves,' some 
 remnant of justice in its internal relations. If the citizens 
 are unjust to each other, if they illtreat and oppress one 
 another, there can be no unity and therefore no strength. 
 In like manner, if injustice exists in an individual, it must 
 destroy all inward concord, and so make him half-hearted 
 and irresolute in action ; he becomes an enemy to 
 himself and to the Gods and all just men. The same 
 argument will overthrow the remaining assertion of 
 Thrasymachus, viz. that 
 
 'Injustice is happier than justice.' 
 
 But this is also shown to be false from a consideration 
 of the nature of virtue. The soul, like the eye or ear or 
 anything else, has a special work or function to perform, 
 and can only perform that work aright if possessed of the 
 fitting quality or virtue. The function of the soul is life 
 and thought, the virtue of the soul is justice; a just soul 
 will live well, an unjust soul will live ill. But living well 
 is happiness, living ill misery. Therefore justice is shown 
 to be more profitable than injustice, being wiser, stronger 
 and happier, as well as better. 
 
 Then follows in the second book the argument of 
 
74 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 75 
 
 Glaiicon, which we will give in Professor Jowett's abstract 
 slightly altered, as an example of Plato's expository 
 style. 
 
 *'ro do injustice is said to be a good; to suffer in- 
 justice an evil. As the evil is discovered by experience 
 to be greater than the good, the sufferers make a com- 
 pact that they will have neither, and this compact or 
 mean is called justice, but is really the incapacity to do 
 injustice. No one would observe such a compact if he 
 were not obliged. Let us suppose that the just and 
 unjust had two rings, like that of Oyges in the well- 
 known story, which made them invisible ; then no dif- 
 ference would appear in them, for every one does evil 
 if he can, and he who abstained would be regarded by 
 the world as a fool. Men may praise him in public 
 out of fear for themselves, but they will laugh in their 
 hearts. And now let us frame an ideal of the just and 
 unjust. Imagine the unjust man to be master of his 
 craft, seldom making mistakes and easily correcting 
 them ; having gifts of money, speech, strength — the 
 greatest villain bearing the highest character : and at his 
 side let us place the just in his nobleness and simplicity, 
 being, not seeming, without name or reward, clothed in 
 his justice only, the best of men, but thought to be the 
 worst, and let him die as he has lived. The just man will 
 then be scourged, racked, bound, and at last crucified ; 
 and all this because he ought to have preferred seemin"^ 
 to being. How different is the case of the unjust, who 
 clings to appearance as the true reality ! His high cha- 
 racter makes him a ruler ; he can marry where he likes, 
 trade where he likes, help his friends and hurt his 
 enemies j having got rich by dishonesty, he can worship 
 
 I 
 
 the Gods better, and will therefore be more loved by 
 
 them than the just.' 
 
 Adeimantus adds further arguments to the same effect 
 
 and concludes as follows : 
 
 'The origin of the evil is that all men from the 
 beginning have always asserted the honours, profits, 
 expediencies of justice. Had they been taught in early 
 youth the power of justice and injustice inherent in the 
 soul, and unseen by any human or divine eye, they 
 would not have needed others to be their guardians, but 
 every one would have been the guardian of himself. 
 And this is what I want you to show, Socrates: other 
 men use arguments which rather tend to strengthen the 
 position of Thrasymachus that might is right ; but from 
 you I expect better things. And please to exclude 
 reputation ; let the just be thought unjust and the unjust 
 just, and do you still prove to us the superiority of^ 
 
 justice.' 
 
 I add four other specimens of Plato's expository 
 style taken, the ist from the Symposium p. 210, on the 
 love of Ideal Beauty; the 2nd from the Laivs v p. 
 731, on Selfishness; the 3rd also from the Laws x 
 p. 887, on Atheism; the 4th from the Phaedo p. 85, 
 on the need of a Revelation. The translations are 
 borrowed wdth slight alterations from Professor Jowett. 
 
 The Love of Ideal Beauty. 
 
 *He who has been instructed thus far in the things of 
 love and who has learned to see the beautiful in due 
 order and succession, w^hen he comes towards the end 
 will suddenly perceive a nature of wondrous beauty ;— a 
 nature which in the first place is everlasting, not growing 
 and decaying, or waxing and waning; in the next place, 
 
 i 
 
76 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 FLA TO, 
 
 77 
 
 not fair in one point of view and foul in another, or fair to 
 some and foul to others, or in the Hkeness of a face or 
 hands or any other part of the bodily frame, or in any 
 form of speech or knowledge, or existing in any other 
 bemg; but beauty absolute and simple, which, without 
 dnninution and without increase or any change, is im- 
 parted to the ever growing and perishing beauties of all 
 other things. He who under the influence of true love, 
 rising upwards from these, begins to see that beauty, is 
 not for from the end. And tlie true order of ascent is to 
 use the beauties of earth as steps along which he mounts 
 upwards for the sake of that other beauty ; going from 
 one to two, and from two to all beautiful form*^, and 
 from beautiful forms to beautiful exercises, and from the 
 performance of beautiful exercises to the learning of 
 beautiful ideas, until at last he arrives at the end of all 
 learning, the Idea of Beauty itself and knows what the 
 essence of Beauty really is. "This, my dear Socrates," 
 said Diotlma, ''is the life which is truly worth living, 
 when a man has attained to the contemplation of 
 beauty absolute; a beauty which if you once beheld, you 
 would see not to be after the measure of gold,' and 
 garments, and that youthful beauty, whose presence now 
 entrances you so, that you and many a one would be 
 content to live, seeing only and conversing with those 
 whom they love, without meat and drink if that were 
 possible ; you want only to be with them and look at 
 them. But what, if a man had eyes to beliold the true 
 beauty, the divine beauty, I mean, pure and clear and 
 unalloyed, not clogged with the pollutions of mortality, 
 and all the colours and vanities of human life ? Do you 
 not see that in that communion only, beholding beauty 
 
 4 
 
 with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring 
 forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold 
 not of an image, but of a reality), and bringing forth and 
 nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God, and 
 be immortal, if mortal man may ? " 
 
 Scljishncss. 
 *The greatest evil to men generally is one which is 
 innate in their souls, and which a man is always excusing 
 in himself and never correcting; I mean what is ex- 
 pressed in the saying, that every man by nature is and 
 ought to be his own friend. Whereas the excessive love 
 of self is in reality the source to each man of all offences; 
 for the lover is blinded about the beloved, so that he 
 judges wrongly of the just, the good, and the honourable, 
 and thinks that he ought always to prefer his own in- 
 terest to the truth. But he who would be a great man 
 ought to regard what is just, and not himself or his 
 interests, whether in his own actions or those of others. 
 Through a similar error men are induced to fancy that 
 their own ignorance is wisdom ; and thus we, who may be 
 truly said to know nothing, think that w^e know all things; 
 and because we will not let others act for us in what we do 
 not know, we are compelled to act amiss ourselves. 
 Wherefore let every man avoid excess of self-love, and 
 condescend to follow a better man than himself, not allow- 
 ing any false shame to stand in the way.' 
 
 Atheism. 
 *Who can be calm when he is called upon to prove 
 the existence of the Gods ? How can one help feeling 
 indignation at those who will not believe the words they 
 have heard as babes and sucklings from their mothers 
 and nurses, words repeated by them like charms both in 
 
•T- ^TfttBfcj^^ 
 
 78 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 79 
 
 earnest and in jest ; who have also heard and seen their 
 parents offering up sacrifices and prayers — sights and 
 sounds deh'ghtful to children,~sacrificing, I say, with all 
 earnestness on behalf of them and of themselves, and 
 communing with the Gods in vows and supplications as 
 though they were firmly convinced of their existence; 
 who likewise see and hear the genuflexions and prosr 
 trations which are made at the rising and setting of the 
 sun and moon both by Greeks and barbarians in all the 
 various turns of good and evil fortune, not as if they 
 thought that there were no Gods, but as if there could be 
 no doubt of their existence, and no suspicion of their 
 non-existence ; — if men know all these things, and with- 
 out reason disregard them, how is it possible in gentle 
 terms to remonstrate with them, when one has to begin 
 by proving to them the very existence of the Gods? 
 Yet the attempt must be made, for it would be unseemly 
 that one half of mankind should go mad in their lust of 
 pleasure, and the other half in righteous indignation at 
 them. Our address to these lost and perverted natures 
 should not be spoken in passion; let us suppose our- 
 selves to select some one of them, and gently to reason 
 with him, smothering our anger :— O my son, we will say 
 to him, you are young, and the advance of time will make 
 you reverse many of the opinions which you now hold. 
 Wait therefore, until the time comes, and do not attempt 
 to judge of high matters at present; and that is the 
 highest of all of which you now think nothing— to know 
 the Gods rightly and to live accordingly. And in the 
 first place let me indicate to you one point which is of 
 great importance, and of the truth of which I am quite 
 certain :— you and your friends are not the first who have 
 
 \ 
 
 held this opinion about the Gods. There have always 
 been persons more or less numerous who have had the 
 same disorder. I have known many of them, and can 
 tell you, that no one who had taken up in youth this 
 opinion, that the Gods do not exist, ever continued in 
 the same till he was old. The two other notions certainly 
 do continue in some cases, but not in many ; the notion 
 I mean, that the Gods exist, but take no heed of human 
 beings, and the notion that thfey do take heed of them, but 
 are easily propitiated' with offerings and prayers. Now, 
 if you will take my advice, you will continue to examine 
 whether the opinion which might seem to you to have 
 been established to the best of your power, is really true 
 or not, asking help both of others and above all of the 
 legislator. And meanwhile beware of committing any 
 impiety against the Gods'. After this prelude the speaker 
 proceeds to give a proof of theism from the essential and 
 necessary priority of mind to matter, and from the move- 
 ments of the heavenly bodies. 
 
 A 'divine ivord' needed to dispel the darkness of Hie fntiire. 
 
 Simmias and Cebes are not quite satisfied with the 
 grounds alleged by Socrates for his belief in the im- 
 mortality of the soul, but they shrink from saying any- 
 thing which could disturb the serenity of his last hours. 
 Socrates encourages them to speak fearlessly, since his 
 patron, Apollo, has granted to him that same foretaste of 
 future blessedness, which makes the dying swan burst 
 forth into its hymn of praise. Simmias, thus encouraged, 
 excuses his own hardness of belief in the following 
 
 ^ By 'propitiation' here, as in the 2nd book of the Kcpitblic^ 
 Plato means the supposed power, on the part of an unrepentant 
 sinner, to avert the Divine wrath by votive offerings. 
 
So 
 
 PLATO. 
 
 FLA TO. 
 
 81 
 
 words : *I do not doubt, Socrates, that you are as fully 
 convinced as we are of the impossibility, or at least the 
 extreme difficulty, of arriving at actual certainty in regard 
 to these matters, whilst we are on earth. Still you would 
 justly blame our faint-hearted ness, if we desisted from 
 the search for truth, before we had tried every possible 
 means of attaining it. You would tell us that, if a man 
 has failed to learn the truth from another, or to discover 
 it for himself, it is his duty at any rate to find the 
 best and most irrefragable of human words, and trusting 
 himself to this, as to a raft, to set forth on the hazardous 
 voyage of life, unless it were possible to find a surer and 
 less dangerous way on board a stronger vessel, some 
 word of God \' 
 
 I conclude with one example of Plato's allegorical 
 style, the famous simile of the Cave from the Seventh 
 book of the Republic. 
 
 'Imagine human beings living in a sort of under- 
 ground den which has a mouth wide open towards 
 the light: they have been there from childhood and, 
 having their necks and legs chained, can only see 
 before them. At a distance there is a fire, and between 
 the fire and the prisoners a raised way, and a low wall 
 built along the way, like that over which marionette 
 players show their puppets. Above the wall are seen 
 moving figures, who hold in their hands various works of 
 art, and among them figures of men and animals, wood 
 and stone, and some of the passers-by are talking and 
 
 1 rhv yovv ^(Xtkttov rCov dvOpuTrhuv Uya)v \afi6vTa koI Suo-e^- 
 ^XeyKTbrarov, iirl tovtou dxavfievou, wairep iirl ax^dlas, Kipdweioura 
 diairXevaat rbu ^iop, d ^^ ris Ivvairo aa<pa\^<TTepov Kal &KivbvvbTepov 
 ivl pepaioTipov oxw^ros, Uyov Oelov nvbs, diairopcve^uai. 
 
 ^ 
 
 4> 
 
 I 
 
 Others silent. The captives see nothing but the shadows 
 which the fire throws on the wall of the cave ; to these 
 they give names ; and, if we add an echo which returns 
 from the wall, the voices of the passengers will seem to 
 proceed from the shadows. Suppose now that you sud- 
 denly turn them round and make them look with pain 
 and grief to themselves at the real images ; will they be- 
 lieve them to be real ? Will not their eyes be dazzled, and 
 will they not try to get away from the light to something 
 which they are able to behold without blinking? And 
 suppose further, that they are dragged up a steep and 
 rugged ascent into the presence of the sun himself, will 
 noTtheir sight be darkened with excess of light? Some 
 time will pass before they get the habit of perceiving at 
 all; and at first they will be able to perceive only 
 shadows and reflexions in the water; then they will 
 recognize the moon and the stars, and will at length be- 
 hold the sun in his own proper place as he is. Last of all 
 they will conclude : This is he who gives us the year and 
 the seasons, and is the author of all that we see. How will 
 they rejoice in passing from darkness to light ! How 
 worthless to them will seem the honours and glories of 
 the den or cave out of which they came! And now 
 imagine farther that they descend into their old habita- 
 tions. In that underground dwelUng they will not see as 
 well as their fellows, and will not be able to compete 
 with them in the measurement of the shadows on the 
 wall ; there will be many jokes about the man who went 
 on a visit to the sun and lost his eyes ; and if those 
 imprisoned there find any one trying to set free and 
 enlighten one of their number, they will put him to death 
 
 if they can catch him. 
 
 6 
 
 M. P. 
 
82 
 
 PLATO, 
 
 \\ 
 
 Now m tins allegory, the cave or den is the world 
 of sight, the fire is the sun, the way upwards is the way 
 to knowledge; and in the world of knowledge the Idea of 
 Oood IS last seen and with difficulty, but, when seen, is 
 mferred to be the author of good and right, parent of the 
 lord of hght .n this world and of truth an<i understandi„<r 
 m the other. lie who attains to the beatific vision is 
 al^^iys go.ng upwards; he is unwilling to descend into 
 l-oht.cal assemblies and courts of law; for his eves are 
 apt to bhnk at the images or shadows of images which 
 they behold in them ; he cannot enter into the ideas ot 
 those who have never in their lives understood the 
 relation of the shadow to the substance. Now blindness 
 >s of two kuuls, an.l may be caused either by passing out 
 of darkness .nto light, or out of light into .larknessrand 
 » n»n of »cr,« „,|| distingu«h b«uc<:n il.cB,. and the 
 ohndn^:*, uhich ari««s from fuUiesi of V ' 'u- uill <|a.m 
 W««4 and pily ihc other, 'l-boc i» a lunher K ^^.n 
 Wl«l.t by ihl.. ponWc of our. &;n»o ,K.rsor« ,;,„rv ,|,a, 
 iwtructtoi. 18 hkc givinj: cyw to the blind. |>,„ ^^ „.. 
 thit tbc fornlty of ^,;|„ w;.. alway* there. ai,U tl..n ,|,e 
 wul only rcjuirw to \^ tamed roand twnird* lite li*l,t 
 Af.<i ;, convtT,ion : other ^ntic. arc not iniMtc but 
 nc.,t,.re<l by exercise «ke l«Klily habit,; Uit intdligenre 
 lm« a d.v.ner We and i. in<lcsln,rtiblc. tutKing citk-r to 
 good or evil accordiiig to the dirc«io.» givw,. Di.) vo.4 
 norr oWr»>e ho»- the mi,»d of a ekver rogue p«« 00'. of 
 hi» eye^ and the more cJc4,riy he see^. the rno^e e»i| (,,. 
 
 hiB. the ca<le.> netijht* wh.ch dri,g him down ami k^, the 
 cy« of the 50UI faxed 00 the sn>ui>d, the »ame faculty i„ 
 lofii trdl be mnwl rot.ml, «nd he mir Wlwld the truth as 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 83 
 
 clearly as he now discerns his meaner ends. And have we 
 not decided that our rulers must neither be so uneducated 
 as to have no fixed rule of life, nor so over-educated as to be 
 unwilling to leave their paradise for the business of the 
 world ? While we must choose out the natures who are 
 most likely to ascend to tlic light and knowledge of the 
 good, we must not allow them to remain in that region of 
 light, but must force them to descend again among the 
 captives in the den to partake of their labours and 
 honours. Nor is this unjust to them, for our purpose in 
 framing the State was not that our citizens should do 
 what they like, but that they should serve the State for 
 the common good of all. May we not fairly say to the 
 l)hilosopher: — In other states philo5oi)hy grows wild, and a 
 ni^l plr«nt ones nothing to the gardener^ but you we hav^ 
 tr.iinc<l to Ix: the nilc« \A our hh'C, and therefore we 
 must iiwist on }X)ur <lc^^ lO the dirknc« of the 
 
 Ocii? You inuil each of yt . >.c your luro aiul become 
 able to use >>our eyes in llic d»rk. And with a little 
 l>riicticc yon will sec ^^t belter tban thot^ wlio quarrel 
 about the shadowj* whoso knowlc^^c is a droani only, 
 whilst yours b a waking: reality. It may be, the Kiint or 
 pliik>«jp;jcr who is best filled, imy also !« tbe leait 
 inclined to rule, but nctrcs^sity is hiSd u{xdii liiiiti and he 
 must no longer live in the het-^vcn nf itJci.-;. And this 
 wiy be tlie salvation of the State. 
 
 Aristotle *llie master of tlvc wiw/ according to the 
 great poet of tl>c > > the tyrant of the NchoolR. 
 
 ^rwl clvxnijiiou of the ()l>^cuniniitt^, according to Hacoi^ 
 and tlic KctMis^^ucc» was born at S;agira,a Greek colony 
 in Tluacc, in the j'car 385 n.c. Ho ^-x^w^ to Athcni in 
 
 62 
 
S4 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 his 17th year and studied under Plato for twenty years. 
 On Plato's death in 347 b.c. he went with Xenocrates to 
 reside at the court of his former pupil Hermias, the ruler 
 of the Mysian cities of i\ssos and Atarneus. On the 
 overthrow and death of Hermias in 344, he retired 
 to Mitylene, from whence lie was invited in 342 by 
 Philip, King of Macedon, to superintend the education 
 of his son Alexander, then a boy of 13. When Alexander 
 set out on his Persian expedition in 335 b.c. Aristotle 
 returned to Athens and taught in the Lyceum. As he 
 lectured while walking his disciples were called Peripa- 
 tetics'. On the death of Alexander, Aristotle left Athens 
 to escape from a cliarge of impiety, 'desiring', as he 
 said, 'to save the Athenians from sinning a second 
 time against philosophy', and settled at Chalcis in 
 Euboea, where he died 322 b.c. 
 
 It is worth while to pause and reflect for a moment 
 on the succession here brought before us; Alexander the 
 disciple of Aristotle, the disciple of Plato, the disciple of 
 Socrates. That four such names, each supreme in his 
 own line, should have been thus linked together, is a fact 
 unparalleled in the history of the world ; and its momentous 
 nature is seen in its consequences, the Hellenizing of 
 East and West by the sword of Alexander and by the 
 writings of Plato and Aristotle. The work of Alexander 
 might perhaps have been done by a meaner instrument, 
 but without the 'great twin brethren' the whole course of 
 human development must have been different. Science, 
 Law, Philosophy, Theology, owe their present form and 
 almost their existence to them. When Plato, griev- 
 
 1 The form shows that the word is derived from TreptTrar^w not 
 from irepiTraTos. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 85 
 
 ing over the helplessness and the isolation of the solitary 
 thinker, sighed for a philosophic governor to carry out 
 his ideas in action, he little dreamt that he was laying 
 the foundation of a spiritual kingdom which was to em- 
 brace the whole of the civilized world. Then again, 
 reflect on what is meant by twenty years of philosophic 
 intercourse between a Plato and an Aristotle. Zeller has 
 conclusively shown the falsehood of various scandalous 
 anecdotes in which the latter is represented as guilty, 
 among other faults, of disrespect and ingratitude towards 
 his master. On the contrary there seems every reason to 
 believe that tradition has preserved the spirit, if not the 
 precise facts, of the relationship between them, when it 
 attributes to Plato the saying that 'Aristotle was the 
 intellect of his school' (vov? ttJs 8iaTpi/5>;?), and to Aris- 
 totle the epitaph in which Plato is described as 'one 
 whom it would be profanity in a bad man even to praise' 
 (JvSpos oV ov8' alvdv rolcrt KaKolat ^e>ts). No wondcr 
 that the mind of the disciple became to such a degree- 
 saturated with the thoughts of his master that, in the words 
 of Sir A. Grant, 'almost every page of Aristode's Logical, 
 Rhetorical, Ethical, Political and Metaphysical writings 
 bears traces of a relation to some part or other of Plato's 
 
 dialogues ^' 
 
 But though it would hardly be going too far to say 
 that Aristotle's philosophy, setting aside his Logic and 
 Natural History, was, in the main, little more than an 
 expansion and elaboration of the guesses and hints of 
 Plato ; though the groundwork of the two systems is die 
 same, yet nothing can be more dissimilar than the im- 
 pressions produced by the writings of the two men. The 
 1 Ethics of Aristotle, Vol. I. p. iSo. 
 
SG 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 vague mysticism, the high poetic imagination, the reform- 
 ing and revokitionary tendencies of the master, were 
 altogether ahen to the scholar. While Plato's aim was 
 to modify or reform existing fact or opinion by the stan- 
 dard of the idea in his own mind, Aristotle's aim is to 
 correct and develop the idea, which he usually accepts 
 from Plato, by a reference to existing fact or opinion 'J 
 While Plato is overpowered by the sense of a sur- 
 rounding infinity, which the intellect of man is powerless 
 to grasp, but to which it is nevertheless drawn by an 
 irresistible attraction; while he appears oppressed by 
 the consciousness of the necessary incompleteness of all 
 lumian knowledge, and seeks rather to throw new lights 
 on the various objects of thought, than to bring them 
 under fixed and definite formularies; Aristotle on the 
 contrary cared only for what is clear, precise, defined, 
 and made it his chief aim to map out the whole of 
 existing knowledge in definite compartments and to 
 sum up results in technical formulas of universal ap- 
 plication. Probably one reason for his popularity in 
 the Middle Ages was the almost magical virtue which 
 he thus appears to attribute to formulas. Corresponding 
 with this difterence in tone and feeling is the difference 
 of style: there is an inimitable charm and grace in almost 
 every sentence of Plato, but Aristotle, of set purpose, 
 adopts a style which is, for the most part, as dry and 
 unadorned as Euclid, though perhaps we may be dis- 
 
 ^ See Ethics^ x. 8, (TvidLtpoivelv to?s X0701S ioiKaaiv ai tQv ffotpCjv 
 Ooi^ai. iricTLV fxev ovu Kal to. Toiavra ^x^*- tlvol, to 5* dXrjdes ev tois 
 TrpanToTi iK tCiv ipyujv Kal tov ^iov Kplverai' iu tovtols yap rb Kvpiov. 
 (TKOTTCLV b-q TO. irpofLpyjjxiva XPV ^"ri to. ipya koL tov ^lov €in<pipovTa^, 
 Kal (Ti'uqdouTOJu fxh Tols ^pyots dirodeKT^ov, diatpwvoi'UTOJi/ 8i X'jyovi 
 nroXrjTTT^ou, 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 S7 
 
 posed to think, as we study his writings more carefully, 
 that no other style could have given so strong an impres- 
 sion of the earnest truthfulness and the philosophic calm of 
 the author'. For a further account of the relation between 
 them, I borrow again from Sir Alexander Grant. 
 
 'While Aristotle is far more scientific, he is wanting 
 in the moral earnestness, the tenderness, and the enthusi- 
 asm of Plato... On the other hand he is more safe than 
 Plato. He is quite opposed to anything unnatural (such 
 as communism) in life or institutions... And on all ques- 
 tions he endeavours to put himself in harmony with the 
 opinions of the multitude, to which he thinks a certain 
 validity must be ascribed' (p. 215). 'Plato's rich and 
 manifold contributions to logic, psychology, metaphysics, 
 ethics, and natural religion, were too much scattered up 
 and down in his works, too much overlaid by conversa- 
 tional prolixity, too much coloured by poetry or wit, 
 sometimes too subtly or slightly indicated, to be readily 
 available for the world in general, and they thus required 
 a process of codification. Aristotle with the greatest 
 gifts for the analytic systematizing of philosophy that 
 have ever been seen, unconsciously applied himself to the 
 required task' (p. 181.) 
 
 Thus Plato's Dialectic method was developed by 
 Aristotle into the strict technical science of Logic: Plato's 
 Ideas, though shorn of their separate supra-mundane 
 existence, still survived in the Aristotelian Form, as 
 opposed to Matter. Aristotle distinguished three move- 
 ments or aspects of the former, and, by adding to these 
 the antagonistic principle of Matter, he arrived at his 
 
 1 For a more unfavourable view of Aristotle's style, see Cope, 
 Introduction to Aristotle's Rhetoric, p. 132. 
 
ss 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 89 
 
 famous classification of the four Causes, the strictly 
 formal (ctSo?, to tL ^]v cimt', 7; Trpwrr; ovo-ta), the material 
 iyXt], TO {TTOKc'/xcyov, TO cf ov), the efficient {to kivoIv, to 
 v> ov), the final (tAos, to ov Iv^ko), which are really four 
 kinds of antecedent conditions required for the existence 
 of each thing. For instance, in order to the production 
 of a marble statue by Phidias there is needed (i) the 
 pre-existence in his own mind of the ideal form which 
 is subsequently impressed upon the stone; (2) the 
 existence of the stone; (3) the act of carving; (4) the 
 motive which induced the sculptor to make the statue, as 
 for instance the desire to do honour to the God whose 
 statue it is. Or again, we may illustrate Aristotle's 
 doctrine on this point, and shew how the three aspects of 
 
 ^ This curious phrase, applying most properly to the creative 
 idea in the mind of the artist, is thoroughly characteristic of 
 the phistic genius of Greece. We may ask, in regard to any work, 
 rl icTL ; what is its actual nature? or we may ask tL yjv ; what is 
 the idea it was intended to embody? And by putting this in a 
 substantival form, 'the being what it was intended to be,' we get an 
 expression for its essential nature or true definition ; see Trendelen- 
 burg's note on the De Anima i. r, 2, Waitz on Aual. Post. i. u. 
 Every concrete object is a combination of pre-existing matter and 
 form : matter being regarded as indefinite, without character or 
 quality, (cf. Met. vii. 10, p. 1036 a. v 8' vXtj dyywaros Kad' avTr,v), 
 all that is characteristic in the object must come from the 
 other element, viz. form, which may therefore be described as that 
 which the thing was, previous to its state of concrete existence 
 Thus a house consists of bricks or other materials adapted to a 
 certain end, but the thought of this adaptation preceded the actual 
 existence of the house : so, in nature, the tree is a combination of 
 materials grouped according to a certain law or form, but this law 
 was pre-existent in the seed before it was made manifest in the tree, 
 and again it pre-existed in the parent tree before it received a latent 
 embodiment in the seed. 
 
 w 
 
 Form tend to run into one another, by considering what 
 was the cause of the virtue of Socrates. The material 
 cause here is the existing Socrates with a yet unrealized 
 potentiality of virtue; the formal cause is the virtuous 
 ideal presented to his mind; and this formal cause will 
 also be the efficient cause, in so far as it tends to actualize 
 itself in the concrete Socrates, and the final cause, in so 
 far as the virtuous character is its own end. But the 
 opposition of Form and Matter is not confined to such 
 simple cases; it covers the whole range of existence 
 from the First Matter, which is mere potentiality of being 
 {hvvaixi^) at the one extreme, to the First Form which 
 is pure immaterial actuality (ivepyeta), the Divine Being, at 
 the other extreme. The intermediate links in the chain 
 are matter or form according as they are viewed from 
 above or below, as marble for instance is form in reference 
 to stone generally, matter in reference to statue ; vitality 
 is form in reference to the living body, matter in reference 
 to rationality. In this way Matter becomes identified 
 with the logical Genus, Form with the Differentia: as 
 Matter can only attain to actual existence in some 
 concrete shape by the addition of Form, so the Genus 
 is by itself only potential, but attains actual existence in 
 its Species through the addition of the Differential 
 
 The First Form of Aristotle, like the ISia rov ayaOov 
 of Plato, is also the First Mover, the cause of the 
 upward striving of the universe, of the development 
 of each thing from the potential into the actual ; and 
 this not by any act of creation, for He remains ever 
 unmoved in His own eternity, but by the natural 
 1 See Zeller III. p. 210, Lonitz on Arist. Met. IV. p. 102^ I), 
 Grota Arist. 11. 341. 
 
90 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 \ 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 91 
 
 tendency which all things have towards Him as the 
 absolutely Good, the object and end of all eftbrt, of all 
 desire'. The universe itself is eternal, a perfect sphere 
 the circumference of which is composed of the purest 
 clement, ether, and is carried round in circular motion 
 by the immediate influence of the Deity. In it are the 
 fixed stars, themselves divine. All above this Primum 
 Mobile is the abode of divinity, in which there is 
 no body, no movement, no void, and therefore no 
 space and no time. The lower planetary spheres 
 have a less perfect movement and are under the 
 guidance of subordinate divinities. Still, throughout the 
 whole space, from the outermost sidereal sphere down to 
 the lunar sphere, all is ordered with perfect regularity 
 according to Nature. It is only in the sublunary region 
 extending from the moon to the earth, which is fixed in 
 the centre, furthest removed from the First Mover and 
 composed of the four inferior elements vrith their recti- 
 linear movements, centripetal or downwards in the 
 case of earth and water, centrifugal or upwards in 
 the case of air and fire, that the irregular forces of 
 Spontaneity and Chance make their appearance, and 
 impede or modify the working of Nature. Yet even 
 here we find a constant progressive movement from 
 inorganic into organic, from plant into animal, from life 
 which is nutritive and sensitive only into life which is 
 locomotive and finally rational in man. The human soul 
 is a microcosm, uniting in itself all the faculties of the 
 lower orders of animated existence, and possessing, 
 
 1 Aristotle's words KLvet u>i ipjjfxevov {Met. xil, 7), remind us 
 of the yearning after the First Fair, treated of in the Symposium and 
 other dialogues of Plato. 
 
 besides, the divine and immortal faculty of reason. As 
 each thing attains its end by fulfilling the work for which 
 it is designed by nature, so man achieves happiness by 
 the unobstructed exercise of his special endowment, a 
 rational and virtuous activity. Pleasure is the natural 
 accompaniment of such an activity. Virtue, which may 
 be described as perfected nature, belongs potentially to 
 man's nature, but it becomes actual by the repetition of 
 acts in accordance with reason. It is subdivided into 
 intellectual and moral, according as it is a habit of the 
 purely rational part of the soul, or as it is a habit of the 
 emotional part, which is capable of being influenced by 
 reason, but not itself rational. Every natural impulse is 
 the potential basis of a particular virtue which may be 
 developed by repeated actions freely performed in 
 accordance with the law of reason so as to avoid either 
 excess or defect. Since man is by nature gregarious, his 
 perfection is only attainable in society, and ethical science 
 is thus subordinate to political science. 
 
 I have here given the briefest possible summary of 
 Aristode's general system, as it is contained in the Physica. 
 the Metaphysial (so called as following the Physicd) and 
 the Nicomacheaji Ethics. Of the latter and of the Politics 
 I have added a fuller analysis below, in order to enable the 
 reader to compare them with Plato's Republic. In the 
 remaining works we have a sort of encyclopaedia of 
 science. The Organon ' contains the theory of deduc- 
 tive reasoning. It includes (i) the Categories in which 
 
 1 There is an excellent edition by Waitz with Latin notes : Mr 
 Poste has brought out an English translation of the Posterior Analytics 
 and Fallacies, with introduction and notes. See also Trendelen- 
 burg's Element a Logic cs Aristolcae. 
 
 J 
 
92 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 all predications are classified under ten heads, Sub- 
 stance (ovo-ta), Quantity (ttoVoi/), Quality {t:o1ov\ Relation 
 (rrpo's Ti), Place (TToi)), Time (ttoVc), Situation (/ccrcr^ai), 
 Possession {Ix^iv), Action (Troier./), Passion {inidx^iv). 
 Their use may be thus illustrated, 'Socrates is a man, 
 seventy years old, wise, the teacher of Plato, now sitting 
 on his couch, in prison, having fetters on his legs, in- 
 structing his disciples, and questioned by them'. It 
 has been often pointed out that the classification here 
 given errs both in excess and in defect, but it has the merit 
 of being the first attempt of the kind. Trendelenburg sug- 
 gests that it was borrowed from the grammatical division 
 of the Parts of Speech. The 2nd of the Logical treatises 
 is the De lutcrpretatione, dealing with the Proposition, in 
 which the distinction between Contrary and Contradictory, 
 and between Possible and Necessary ('Modal') Proposi- 
 tions, is for the first time clearly explained. In the 
 3rd, the Aiialytica, we have the doctrine of the Syllogism 
 set forth with as much completeness as in Whately or 
 Aldrich, together with an account of applied reasoning 
 under the two heads of Demonstration {aitol^ihi) and 
 Dialectic (8ia/\€KTtK//'). It further distinguishes between 
 Induction (eVttytoyry), arguing upwards to Universals from 
 Particulars, which are yvaipLiiumpa yjfilv, more familiar and 
 intelligible to the learner or investigator, and Deduction 
 ((Tv\XoyL(T/x6<;), arguing downwards to Particulars from 
 Universals, which are <;6vo-€t yvwpifuj^repa, naturally and in 
 themselves clearer and more intelliL>ible. But though 
 Aristotle thus derives the major premiss of the Syllogism 
 from previous Induction, he has nowhere attempted to state 
 the laws of the Inductive process, as he has done those of 
 the Syllogism. He only tells us that the general idea, which 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 93 
 
 Plato thought to be a separate existence known to the soul 
 in a previous state of being, was simply a truth attained 
 by gradual process of Induciion, and certified by the un- 
 erring principle of reason {x'uv^). The steps were percep- 
 tion (atd^ryo-ts), memory {ixvTji-ir]), experience (e/xTrcipta); 
 and the half-conscious judgment contained in the last, 
 when taken up, examined and approved by the supreme 
 faculty rov?, was stamped as absolutely and universally true. 
 Dialectical reasoning is the subject of the 4th of Aris- 
 totle's logical treatises, called the Topica, because it 
 treats of the 'places' or 'storehouses' (to'ttoi) in which 
 arguments are to be found. In it Aristotle gives the 
 principles and rules of the Socratic dialogue, the original 
 'Dialectic' before the term had been twisted by Plato to 
 mean not only the art of philosophical discussion, but the 
 highest part of philosophy itself. Aristotle on the con- 
 trary carefully separates it from science (eTriorry/xr;) and 
 connects it more with rhetoric, since both deal with 
 matters of opinion and make use of probable arguments. 
 Its end is not so much to prove truth as to expose 
 inconsistency : it is useful both as a stimulating mental 
 exercise, and as clearing the ground for a scientific treat- 
 ment of a subject by bringing to light the difficulties on 
 all sides. The roVot are arranged under the four Predic- 
 ables, getius, differentia, proprium, accidefis, which express 
 the various relations which the predicate may bear to the 
 subject. The last of the logical treatises is the Sophistici 
 Eknchi, in which we have a careful enumeration of the 
 various kinds of Fallacies. The fundamental axioms of 
 Logic, viz. the Maxim of Contradiction and the Maxim of 
 the Excluded Middle are treated of in the Metaphysica. 
 From the art of reasoning we proceed to the art of 
 
94 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 persuasion, which forms tlie subject of the Rhetoric ' 
 Aristotle begins by clearing this art, which he calls an 
 off-shcot of Dialectic, from the reproach which had been 
 brought upon it by its sophistical misuse, and which had 
 caused It to be repudiated with such contempt by Plato 
 He defines it as 'the power of discovering in each case the 
 possible means of persuading,' (S,;„„^,, ,,^,; ,",„,,„^ ^„j 
 i'c.op./crat TO cV8cxo/.c.„. ^ga.-oV, AV„-/. , 2). and shows that 
 >t IS really an art founded on sciendnc principles, and 
 that. If It IS hable to abuse, that is common to it with all 
 other methods of increasing human power. 'I'he foult 
 hes in the motive (^poa{,„a.,) of the speaker, not in the 
 command of the resources of speech sup,,lied by the art 
 It IS unfair to exi.ose justice unarmed to the attack of in- 
 justice armed with rhetoric. The means of persuasion 
 are divided mto the scientific, supplied by the speech 
 ■self, and the unscientific, which e.xist iudependentlv of 
 the speech, such as the evi<lence of witnesses, S:c The 
 scientihc means are of three kinds, (i) probable proofs 
 y«rxc„) contained in the speech, (.) the moral weight 
 VM of die speaker, (3) the emotions of the audience 
 (™fe). The proofs are either of the nature of De- 
 duction, or of Induction. The former is the 'considera- 
 tion, or enthymeme (cV^.^^a), a probable syllogism con- 
 structed out of signs and likelihoods (,.^^«„ .„; ,,v„Va) 
 »ith the major premiss omitted v; the latter is the example 
 ■ See Cope's edilion witli the IiilroJuciion. 
 
 '■ See Cope, InlroJuction, p. ,03. In Rhd. 11. 2, it is said ti,.-it 
 = maxim (■y.a,;,,) is turned into an enthymeme by adding a reason 
 Among the examples given is one from the .)/./.. ,9, fori, in whieh 
 o«r.educ.at,o„ .s blamed for the envy it excites. M a syllog n 
 lh.s would require the additional statement of the m.ajor. 'the S^^'y 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 95 
 
 
 (Tra/^aSfty/xa). Besides giving proof of fact, the speech 
 sliould impress the audience with a certain idea of the r]do^ 
 of the speaker, i.e. of his wisdom (</>poVr;o-ts), virtue (apcrr;) 
 and goodwill towards themselves (c{;.om); and it should 
 appeal to the appropriate feelings, of which a classifica- 
 tion IS given. There are three branches of rhetoric, 
 distinguished by the aim of the speaker, (i) Deliberative 
 (ori;/x^oL-X€uriKoV) which advocates or deprecates some 
 course to be taken in the future, on the ground of ex- 
 pediency, (2) Judicial (StKaartKo,-) which defends or ac- 
 cuses some person as having acted justly or unjustly in 
 time past ; (3) the least important of the three, Declama- 
 tory (eViSctKr^KoV) the subject of which is commonly 
 eulogy of honorable conduct in reference to present time 
 The last book of the Rhetoric deals with style {\iU) and 
 the arrangement of the topics of the sj^eech {r<iiii). 
 
 In the Poetic ' Aristotle takes Plato's view of Poetry as 
 a branch of Imitation, and divides it into three kinds, 
 Epic, Tragic, and Comic. All imitation is a source of 
 pleasure, but the imitation of the poet or artist is not 
 simple representation of ordinary fact, but of the univer- 
 sal and ideal which underlies ordinary fact; whence 
 poetry is more philosophical than history. This is most 
 conspicuous in Tragedy, where the characters are all on 
 a grander scale ihan those of common life ; but even 
 Comedy selects and heightens in its imitation of the 
 
 of the citizens is to be avoided.' Another example is the anonymous 
 hne ^davarov hp^^v ^^ 0iXa(T<Te evr^rh^ div, where the full svUogism 
 would be ' the feelings of mortals should be mortal like tliemselves ; 
 you are mortal ; therefore your v/rath should have an end.' 
 
 1 Translated into English with full commentary by Twining, 
 1 789. See also the German edition by Susemihl, and Boring's Die 
 Kunstlchre des Aristotdcs. 
 
96 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 grotesque. Tragedy is not, as Plato thought, a mere 
 enfeehhng luxury; rather it makes use of the feelings of 
 pity and terror to purify similar affections in ourselves (St' 
 €Acou Kttt (fio^ov TTCpaiVcvcra rrji' rwv lOLovTOiv TraOrj/udTwy 
 KddapcTLv), i.e. it gives a safe vent to our feelings by 
 taking us out of ourselves, and opening our hearts to 
 sympathize witli heavier woes of humanity at large, typi- 
 fied in the persons of the drama, while it chastens and 
 controls tlie vehemence of passion by never allowing its 
 expression to transgress the limits of beauty, and by 
 recognizing the righteous meaning and use of suffering. 
 
 Aristotle's treatises on the science and philosophy 
 of Nature may be classed under the Physical, in- 
 cluding the P/ivsica Aiiscidtatio, the De Cac/o, De 
 Gencratiime d Cornipiione and Aletcorologica ; and the 
 Biological, including the Ilistoria Anwialium, with its 
 appendages the De Partibns Animaliiim^ De Generatmie 
 Animaliiim, De Incessu Auinialinm^ and the De Anima 
 with its appendages the De Motu Aniinalium and the 
 collection of tracts known as Parva Natnralia. 
 
 The Physical treatises, which deal not so much with 
 what we should now call Natural Philosophy as with the 
 underlying metaphysical ideas, are those which especially 
 provoked the animadversions of Bacon. I'hus in the 
 Novum Orraniim i Aj^/i. 6:^ he says 'Of Sophistical 
 philosophy the most conspicuous example was Aristotle 
 who corrupted natural pliilosophy by his logic, f^ishioning 
 the world out of categories,... disposing of the distinction 
 of Dense and Rare by the frigid (hstinction of Act and 
 Power, asserting that single bodies have each a single 
 
 and proper motion and imposing countless other 
 
 arbitrary restrictions on the nature of things, being 
 always more anxious to find a ready answer in words 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 97 
 
 '* 
 
 than to ascertain the inner truth of things.' Bacon no 
 doubt, is disposed to make Aristotle responsible for all 
 the short-comings of the Scholastic philosophy; but 
 more impartial and better-instructed writers are hardly 
 more favourable in their judgments. Thus Dr Whewell 
 writes {Hist, of I mi. Sc. i 52^.) *The Aristotelian physics 
 cannot be considered as otherwise than a complete failure. 
 It collected no general laws from facts; and consequently, 
 when it tried to explain facts, it had no principles which 
 were of any avail.' And he explains this failure not so 
 much by the absence of observation, as by the absence of 
 clear and appropriate Ideas to arrange the facts observed 
 (p. 54 foil). In illustration he quotes Aristotle's proof of 
 the Quinta Essentia^ the eternal celestial substance*, from 
 the fact of circular motion : * The simple elements must 
 have simple motions ; thus fire and air have their natural 
 motions upwards, and water and earth have their natural 
 motions downwards ; besides these rectilinear motions 
 there is the motion in a circle, which is a more perfect 
 motion than the other, because a circle is a perfect line, 
 and a straight line is not ; there must therefore be some 
 simple and primary body more divine than the four 
 elements, whose nature it is to be carried round in a 
 circle, as it is the nature of earth to move downwards, 
 and of fire to move upwards. It is impossible that the 
 revolving bodies can revolve contrary to nature, for their 
 motion is continuous and eternal, whereas all that is 
 contrary to nature speedily dies away".' It must not be 
 supposed however that the physical reasoning of Aristotle 
 
 ^ De Caeh, i 2. 
 
 2 See too Ilerschel's Natural Philosophy, p. 109, and Lewes' 
 Aristotle /awm. 
 
 M. P. 7 
 
 :/!g; s^^T^w^.-ss^v* jsgsssyp^iss' 
 
98 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 is all of this description. In the Physica Aiiscidtatio ii 8 
 there is a very interesting discussion on the evidences 
 of Design in Nature, in which he gives his reasons against 
 Empedocles' theory of Development. Still on the whole 
 we too often find ourselves balked with phrases and 
 formulas, where we looked for facts and ideas. 
 
 In Biology Aristotle was more successful. Cuvier 
 speaks in ecstatic terms of his History of Animals, and 
 though Dr Whewell and G. H. Lewes' have shown that 
 he has grfcatly exaggerated its merits, and that Aristotle 
 has not attempted anything like a scientific classification 
 of animals, yet all admit 'that it is a marvellous work 
 considering tbe period at which it was produced and the 
 multiform productions of its author'.' The spirit in 
 which Aristotle entered on his investigations is shown in 
 a striking passage of the Fart. An. i. 5, the substance of 
 which is as follows, 'It remains for us to speak of the 
 nature of animals, omitting nothing as too mean. For 
 even in those things which are least agreeable to the 
 sense, creative nature affords a wonderful dcliglit to those 
 who are able to understand their causes. Therefore we 
 must not shrink in disgust, like children, from the examina- 
 tion even of the meanest animals, for there is something- 
 admirable in all nature's handiwork. As Heraclitus said, 
 when his friends were reluctant to enter a mean apartment 
 (iVi'Js), *' Enter, for here too there are Gods," so every 
 work of nature is beautiful as exhibiting evidences of 
 design. There is much that is offensive in the sight of 
 flesh, bones, veins, &c, but we disregard this in our desire 
 to master the principle of construction which they embody.' 
 
 ' See his Arisiotle^ ch. xv. 
 
 Lewes, p. 290. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 99 
 
 We need not dwell upon any of the treatises classed 
 under this head except the DeAnima, of which Lewes says 
 *the extreme interest of its problems and the profundity 
 of Its views render it the most valuable of ancient attempts 
 to bring the facts of life and mind into scientific order'.' 
 Aristotle here examines the theories of previous philoso- 
 phers, Democritus, Empedocles, Plato &c., and then pro- 
 ceeds to give his own view as follows. The Soul (i/^rxv) is 
 the vital principle of all organized bodies, manifesting 
 Itself in an ascending scale of functions, nutritive, sentient^ 
 locomotive, appetitive, imaginative, rational, throughout 
 the range of animated existence, from plant up to man. 
 Each higher function involves the lower, so that all the 
 functions are found conjoined with rationality in man, 
 while the nutritive function exists separately in vegetables.' 
 The soul is the Form of which body is the Matter, it 
 brings into actuality^ the capacities which are latent 'in 
 body and is itself limited by those capacities. It is also 
 the Final and the Efficient Cause of the body, since this 
 exists for the sake of the soul, and is set in motion by it. 
 The highest function of soul is not inherent in the body 
 and has no special organ with which it is connected, 
 
 ' P. 221. The book is also analysed by Grote, Aristotle vol. 11 
 ch. 12, and in A. Butler's Lectures, 
 
 ^ 2 This actualizing power is expressed by the technical term 
 6.reX^X«a. whence the definition ^v^h iar.v iureXi^e^a ^ -rrp^rr, 
 crc^aros <pv<TCKov dvudf^a ^o,ifu i^o.ros; which Grote explains as 'the 
 lowest stage of actuality, the minimum of influence required to 
 transform potentiality into actuality'; 'it is not indispensable that all 
 the functions of the living subject should be at all times in complete 
 exercise : it is enough if the functional aptitude exist as a dormant 
 property ready to rise into activity when the proper occasion, 
 present themselves.' Arist^t/e II. iHO. 
 
 7-2 
 
ICO 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 like the other functions; it is an emanation from tht- 
 celestial sphere, and is the only part of the soul which 
 survives the death of the body ; but though it survives, it 
 apparently loses its individuality and becomes merged in 
 the universal reason. There is much that is interesting 
 in the account of the Senses and of the 'Common Sensi- 
 bles' {i.e. primary qualities); in the distinction drawn be- 
 tween the Active and Passive Reason, between Memory 
 and Reminiscence and, as connected with this, in the 
 theory of the Association of Ideas ^; but the pleasure of 
 reading the book is lessened, as is so often the case in 
 Aristotle, by his over-fondness for logical distinctions, by 
 confused arrangement and extreme conciseness, made up 
 for at times by unnecessary repetitions. 
 
 I proceed now to give an analysis of the book in 
 which the true greatness of Aristotle is most conspicuous, 
 the Nicomachcan Ethics^ commencing with a translation of 
 the first three chapters'. 
 
 'Every art and every science, and so too every act 
 and purpose, seems to aim at some good. Hence people 
 have well defined the supreme good to be that at which 
 all things aim. Sometimes the end consists in the exer- 
 cise of a faculty for its own sake, at other times in certain 
 external results beyond this. Where the end consists in 
 such external result, the result is more important than 
 the activity to which it is due. Now as there are many 
 kinds of action and of art and science, there must also be 
 many ends, the end of medicine for instance being health, 
 of ship-building a ship, of strategy victorj% of domestic 
 
 ^ See his short treatise on Memory. 
 
 ^ See Grant's 3rd edition and the English translation by Chase 
 or Williams. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 lOI 
 
 economy wealth. But where the arts themselves fall 
 under some higher art, as bridle-making under the 
 general art of riding, and this again and the whole 
 business of war under the master art of strategy,— in 
 all such cases the end of the master art, whether it be 
 a simple activity or some further tangible result, is more 
 important than the ends of the subordinate arts, the latter 
 being pursued for the sake of the former. If then, there 
 is some end for all that has to do with action, and if 
 everything else which we desire is relative and subordi- 
 nate to this final end, and we do not go on interminably 
 making every choice for the sake of something beyond 
 (in which case our desires would be frustrate and void of 
 effect), then this must be the Summum Bonum or chief 
 good. And, if so, must not the knowledge of this be of 
 great importance for the conduct of life; and shall we 
 not be more likely to know what we ought to do, when 
 we have this before us, as a mark to aim at ? Can we form 
 any conception of the science to which this highest end 
 belongs ? Plainly it must be the highest and most com- 
 prehensive science. And such is TroAtTiKry, the science of 
 society, as it ordains what other sciences shall find a 
 home in States, what sciences shall be learnt by different 
 classes, and to what degree of proficiency. Even the 
 most esteemed of the arts and faculties are subordinate 
 to this; for example, strategy, domestic economy, and 
 rhetoric. Seeing then that the science of society makes 
 use of the various sciences concerned with action and 
 production, and lays down the law as to what men should 
 do and should abstain from doing, the end of this will 
 embrace the ends of all other sciences and will conse- 
 quently be the highest good of man. For even supposing 
 
• 
 
 J02 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 it to be the case that the end of the individual is identical 
 with that of the State, yet the end of the State is at any 
 rate more comprehensive and complete. Granted that 
 even in the case of the individual the Summum Bonum 
 is an aim to be cherished, yet for a nation and for States 
 it is certainly more noble and divine. Our science there- 
 fore is of the nature of TroXiTiKr/. 
 
 *In regard to method, the subject will be adequately 
 treated if it be elucidated with as much clearness as the 
 subject matter admits. Rigorous exactness must not be 
 looked for, to the same extent, in all subjects of dis- 
 cussion, any more than an equal perfection of finish in 
 all the different products of handicraft. And there is so 
 much controversy and uncertainty in regard to what is 
 honorable and what is just,— questions with which our 
 science is concerned— that they have been thought to 
 depend on custom only and to have no natural founda- 
 tion. Similarly with regard to good things; for some- 
 times these are found to be injurious in their results, as 
 men have been ruined owing to their wealth or their 
 courage. Arguing then, as we are, upon such varying 
 phenomena and from such uncertain premisses, we must 
 be satisfied if we can set forth the truth roughly and 
 in outline. Where the premisses, no less than the subject 
 matter, are only probable and contingent, we must be 
 content to draw inferences of a corresponding nature. 
 It is the characteristic of an educated man not to re- 
 quire scientific precision upon any subject under in- 
 quiry beyond what the nature of the case admits; e.g. to 
 demand scientific demonstration from an orator would 
 be as improper as to accept probable reasoning from a 
 mathematician. A man judges aright only of what he 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 103 
 
 himself knows; and only to that extent is he a good 
 critic. Special points will be judged best by him who 
 has received a special education, and general questions 
 by him who has been generally educated. It follows 
 that a young man is no fit student of our science, having 
 no experience in the affairs of real life, from which our 
 reasonings must be drawn and with which they are 
 concerned. Moreover, as he is prone to follow his 
 passions, it will be idle and profitless for him to listen 
 to moral truths, of which the end is not intellectual but 
 practical. Whether such a student be young in age or 
 only childish in character, is immaterial, as his incompe- 
 tence is not measured by length of time, but is due to his 
 living, and pursuing his several objects, under the rule of 
 the passions. To such persons knowledge is useless, as 
 it is to those who have no self control; on the other 
 hand to those who shape their desires and regulate their 
 conduct in accordance with reason, it will be highly 
 profitable to be informed on these points. 
 
 'These remarks may serve as an introduction to 
 indicate who are the proper students of morals, what is 
 the spirit 2nd method with which the subject must be 
 treated, and what is the precise scope of the present 
 treatise.' 
 
 Aristotle then proceeds, in his usual manner, to ex- 
 amine the opinions current on the subject of the chief good, 
 first premising that, as our reasoning must be drawn from 
 experience, he who is to appreciate its force must liave 
 been so brought up as to have this experience at com- 
 mand, i.e. to have the feeling of honour and right, in 
 his own mind. He points out that, while all agree in 
 calling the Chief Good by such names as Happiness, 
 
.\ 
 
 104 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 Living-well, Doing-well, there is great dispute as to 
 what these consist in. Judging from people's lives, we 
 may distinguish three main views : the mass hold that 
 happiness consists in bodily pleasure ; those of a higher 
 class, who are engaged in active life, make it consist in 
 honour; the philosopher makes it consist in thought. The 
 Tst is an animal view, the 2nd assumes an end which is 
 precarious, and is sought rather as a means to assure 
 ourselves of our own excellence than as being in itself 
 an end : the consideration of the 3rd is postponed. Then, 
 though reluctantly, he criticizes Plato's ideal good, for 
 * friends and truth being equally dear, we are bound to 
 prefer the truth'.' The arguments are not very clear ^ 
 but their general purport is to prove that the * Ideal Good' 
 is something unintelligible, and in any case of no use for 
 practice. Having thus cleared the ground, Aristotle 
 developes his own conception of happiness. It is final, 
 it is self-sufficing (avrapKc?), it must be found in the 
 proper work or function (epyov) of man. 
 
 The reasoning by which man's happiness is inferred 
 from his epyov appears to be as follows. Everything 
 which exists is specially adapted to some special good end 
 (t€\os). This adaptation is called the nature (<^vo-ts) of the 
 thing. The process by which it arrives at its end is its 
 cpyov. Its special excellence (apcxT/) consists in the per- 
 fection of its </)vo-t?. Therefore, <^va-ts being given, we 
 may find the other terms. Life is the function of all 
 living things. Amongst these man is distinguished by 
 the possession of reason; his Ip-^ov therefore will be 
 not life simply but rational life, and this must be 
 
 ^ aiK^otv (piXoiv 6irroLV 6cnov irpoTijULav ttjv a.\r)0€i.av. 
 
 * See Essay ill. of the Introduction to Grant's Ethics. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 105 
 
 actively rational, and such as is found in the best speci- 
 men of man. Thus we obtain the definition: 'the good 
 of man is a putting forth of the faculties of the soul in 
 accordance with his highest excellence, (to dvOpioinvov 
 dyaOov \pv)(rj(; ivipytia yiuerai Kara T))v dpiCTTrjv aperrju). And 
 further we must add iv (Siio reXetco 'in a complete life,' so that 
 nothing may hinder the full development of the ciepycm. 
 It is shown that this definition embraces all the various 
 characteristics of happiness distinguished by previous 
 philosophers, not excluding pleasure, because virtue is 
 essentially productive of pleasure, and that the highest 
 pleasure. Hence we learn that man is himself the chief 
 source of his own happiness, and that Solon was wrong 
 in saying that no man is to be called happy during his 
 life. 
 
 Aristotle then proceeds to give a further account 
 of human excellence. Man is a compound of a rational 
 and an irrational nature. Of the irrational nature part 
 is merely nutritive and entirely unparticipant of reason, 
 part is appetitive and impulsive (eVt^r/xT^TiKoi/ koI opeKTiKov) 
 and is capable of being brought into subjection to reason. 
 Human excellence therefore will be twofold, according 
 as it is seen in the purely rational or the semi-rational 
 part. The excellence of the former is intellectual, Sta- 
 vorjTLiaj, the excellence of the latter moral, rjOiKij. (In 
 speaking of the latter the word dperTj will be translated by 
 'virtue.') Moral virtue is acquired by practice, just as 
 manual skill is acquired. According to the practice will 
 be the resulting character; by a repetition of brave 
 acts we become brave, &c.^ We start with a capacity 
 {Svvap.Ls) which may be developed in either direction by 
 
 ^ iK tQv Ofxoiwu iyepyciQif al e|ei> yivovrai. II. I. 7. 
 
 
io6 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 a series of acts of a definite quality, and thus become 
 fixed .n a corresponding habit or tone of mind i' 
 
 ho wt?d • '° '°'"' '"^"°"= "^^"' ''- ««=t fi^st know 
 
 h SdS, r 7 "" ''' "°"'^' ='^"''^^''' ^"d this we 
 sha 1 do by avo,d,ng excess or defect. When a man does 
 
 s ch actions wittingly, intentionally, choosing Znfo 
 
 e sX?1 ^"' '^-"^ P'— - them,\nd :„: 
 
 marks of a formed habit of virtue; of wind, let this be 
 
 our definition, 'a fixed habit of mind, resulting fron effort 
 
 lar nature, is equidistant from excess or defect •' to which 
 
 TasoT^d Is '"' 'm '"^^" '""^' "^ cietLL:'" 
 reason and as a sensible man would determine it' It 
 
 must be confessed however that there are exceptions to 
 
 wTT' '? ""^'™^^ '^"^ ^ -■"- -hicih : 
 
 not ling to do with a mean, and it frequently happens 
 
 no hi r " 7" °''°''' '° °"^^ «'-- ">an o 
 another. A good practical rule is to shun the worse 
 
 extreme or that to which we are most prone. 
 
 ihe Third Book commences with an inquiry into 
 moral responsibility. It is only voluntary acts! that " e 
 praised or blamed. An act is involuntary w i don" 
 gnorant y or under constraint. Of constraint there are 
 
 a e t>vo kinds, ignorance of principles, which is a mark of 
 excusable if the agent, when better informed, repents 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 107 
 
 I 
 
 
 of his act done in ignorance. Thus we may define 
 voluntary action as ^that which originates with the agent's 
 self, knowing the circumstances of the action, {to Ikov- 
 a-Lov S6^€L€v ^v cTrat ov 77 dpxy iv avr^ etSoTt rd KaO" CKaaTa 
 cV ots t] Trpa^L^). It is a mistake to suppose that actions 
 done from anger or desire are involuntary. One particu- 
 lar form of the Voluntary is Purpose or Volition, (irpoaL- 
 pe(7ts). It is distinguished from Wish (J3ovXrj(rL<s) because 
 that refers to the end, this to the means ; as well as from 
 Desire, Anger, and Opinion. It implies previous de- 
 liberation (^ovAeuo-is) and may be defined *a grasping 
 after something within our own power after previous 
 deliberation' {/SovXivTLKy o/jc^i? twv i(f>" rj^ilv). 
 
 A question has been raised as to the nature of the 
 End which is the object of our wish. The true account 
 seems to be that abstractedly, and to the virtuous man, 
 good itself is the end wished for, but to others the 
 apparent good. And then arises the question whether 
 vice is really voluntary, if we of necessity wish for the 
 apparent good, which may not after all be the real good. 
 To this it may be answered that it is in our power to be 
 virtuous (and so, to wish rightly), because it is in our power 
 to do the acts which lead to the formation of virtuous 
 habits, and avoid the opposite acts: and that we are 
 thus free, is witnessed to by the whole constitution of 
 society. If it is further argued that we are born dif- 
 ferent, one with an eye for what is good and right, and 
 another without it, we may at least reply that in any case 
 virtue and vice must stand on the same footing as regards 
 freedom, and that our own actions do at any rate contri- 
 bute to intensify this difference. 
 
 Aristotle then proceeds to the discussion of the 
 
loS 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 109 
 
 several virtues which may be presented in a scheme 
 as follows with their corresponding extremes. 
 
 Sphere. 
 
 Defect. 
 
 Virtue. 
 
 Excess. 
 
 , 
 
 anticipated 
 
 hf.CK[a^ 
 
 di'dpela, OpacrijTrjs, 
 
 evils. 
 
 timidity. 
 
 courage. 
 
 foolhardi- 
 ness. 
 
 * 
 
 bodily plea- 
 
 duaicrdrjcria, 
 
 (TwcfipoaOvTj, dKoXaaia, 
 
 
 sures. 
 
 insensibility. 
 
 temperance. 
 
 intempe- 
 rance. 
 
 
 property. 
 
 dveXevdepla, 
 
 i\et>0(pla, da-wrla, 
 
 
 
 avarice. 
 
 liberality. 
 
 prodigality. 
 
 ' direipoKaXia, 
 
 ostentatioii. 
 
 
 wealth. 
 
 fiiKpotrpiireia, 
 
 [j.€ya\oirpi' - 
 
 ^o-vavaia, 
 
 
 
 meanness. 
 
 ireia, 
 magnificence. 
 
 snobbish- 
 ness. 
 
 
 greatness. 
 
 fllKpOxf/VX^CL, 
 
 fx.tya\o\l/vxia, x^^'^^''"^^^ 
 
 
 
 littleness of 
 
 magnanimity. 
 
 pompous- 
 
 
 
 mind. 
 
 
 ness. 
 
 
 honour. 
 
 d(pL\oTifjt.ia, 
 
 (piXorifita, (piXoTi^uia, 
 
 
 
 want of spirit. 
 
 right ambi- 
 tion. 
 
 wrong am- 
 bition. 
 
 
 provocation. 
 
 dopyrjalay 
 
 irpaoTT}^, opyiXorrj^, 
 
 
 
 dullness. 
 
 gentleness. 
 
 irascibility. 
 
 
 companion- 
 
 direxdei-a., 
 
 ^iXia, K 
 
 <3XaK€Lay 
 
 
 ship. 
 
 rudeness. 
 
 sociablencss. 
 
 flattery. 
 
 
 conversation. 
 
 €lpu}i>eia, 
 
 dXrjOeia, d 
 
 \a^6veLa, 
 
 
 
 self-dispa- 
 
 sincerity. 
 
 boastfulness. 
 
 
 
 ragement. 
 
 
 
 
 recreation. 
 
 dypoiKLa, 
 
 eurpoTreXta, /3 
 
 ij)lxoXoxio.i 
 
 
 
 sullenness. 
 
 urbanity. 
 
 buffoonery. 
 
 
 facing of men. 
 
 cii'ato'Xtj'rta, 
 
 aloJjs, Ki 
 
 XTctrrXTj^ts, 
 
 
 
 impudence. 
 
 modesty. 
 
 bashfulness. 
 
 
 the fortunes of 
 
 eiTLxaipiKaKia, 
 
 iY/xe(rt$^, (p 
 
 Qbvos, 
 
 
 others. 
 
 malignant 
 pleasure. 
 
 indignation. 
 
 envy. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ N^/Aeo-ts is a ' mean,' because the indignant man is pained only 
 at undeserved prosperity, while the envious, exceeding him, is pained 
 at all prosperity, and the malicious is so far defective in feeling pain 
 that heeven rejoices at— not prosperity, but adversity, Eth. il. 7. By 
 the time he wrote the Rhetoric, Aristotle had come to see the absurdity 
 of this opposition, and identifies iTrixaipcKada with ei\vy,R/ief. II. 9. 
 
 As a specimen of Aristotle's analysis of character, 
 I give an abstract of his remarks on the Brave Man and 
 the Magnanimous or high-minded man. 
 
 He begins by limiting the sphere of Bravery. Bra- 
 very is not concerned with all objects of fear ; e.g. a man 
 is not called brave for being fearless as to disgrace, or to 
 injury which may threaten his family ; but we call him 
 brave who does not shrink from death. He is truly 
 brave who in presence of danger behaves as reason directs 
 and under a sentiment of honour. Suicide is a mark of 
 cowardice rather than of courage. There are five imper- 
 fect forms of courage, (i) that which is produced by 
 a regard to the opinion of others, (2) that which comes 
 from experience, as the sailor's in a storm, (3) that which 
 comes from passion or spirit ; when joined to reason 
 this becomes true courage, (4) that which comes from a 
 hopeful temperament, (5) that which comes from ig- 
 norance of danger. 
 
 High-mindedness or loftiness of spirit is an accom- 
 paniment and ornament of the other virtues combined. 
 The high-minded man is one who is w^orthy of the 
 highest honour and rates himself at his true worth. If a 
 man has small worth and rates himself accordingly, we 
 should call him modest. The vicious excess is where a 
 man rates himself above his worth, the vicious defect 
 where he is too humble and rates himself below his 
 worth. The high-minded man will always bear himself 
 with calmness and moderation. He will despise dis- 
 honour, knowing it to be undeserved, and honour too, for 
 this can never be an adequate reward of virtue, though 
 he will accept it as his due from the good. He is ready 
 to bestow favours on others, but scorns to receive them ; 
 
 
no 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 III 
 
 is proud to the great, but affable to the lowly ; will not 
 compete for common objects of ambition; is open in 
 friendship and hatred; cares for reality more than for 
 appearance, dislikes personal talk, wonders at nothing, 
 bears no malice, disregards utility in comparison with 
 beauty, is dignified in all his actions and movements. 
 
 The Fifth, Sixth and Seventh books are taken bodily 
 from the Eudemian Ethics, a sort of paraphrase of the Ni- 
 comachean Ethics, written by a pupil of Aristotle. Some 
 suppose that the Nicomachean Ethics were never com- 
 pleted; perhaps it is a more probable view that these 
 three books were accidentally lost, and that their place 
 was supplied from the parapluase. Sir A. Grant and 
 others have pointed out slight divergences between the 
 genuine Aristotelian doctrine and that put forward in 
 ibcse books; but, tln>iii;h iiifcrior in faro: and jHirsjiicuily, 
 ihcy may be acorptcd as supplying a gcncwHy lailhful 
 representation of ihc Wcas of Aii>to:lc- Jwsucc is the 
 sub^ of the Fifth Book. The wiiur \H-o\f\^ hv dittin- 
 guiihing two meanings of the term: it ci. . ic 
 
 &otd habit of fulfilling the bw,' which b eqiiH^Vnt 
 to vxitoe in general a-s displayed townrdft our nci^^n-Jiii"; 
 or it is used in a narrowxrr ind mcAns *£iir <lea]i^g 
 
 with regard to properly.' It is the bttcr or Civil Justice 
 which is our ^:tlbjcct. It is divided into tat) kinds, 
 Distributive (Ivk^^^tpxx^ and CoxTcctiv^c (S40fA*T#*y>. ITje 
 former ass^iis to c:tch citizen his due in i.^ i to tlic 
 honours :ind burdens o^ civil life: and thit which is due 
 or equal will be discovered lierc by *^|^metrical propor- 
 tion;* ns man is rcbtcd to man, so must the honour done 
 to the one lie rebted to the honour done to the other. 
 Corrective Jiwiice laVes no account ci pcfdoos, but^ when 
 
 i 
 
 % 
 
 inequality has been occasioned by injustice, it endeavours 
 to restore equaHty by an 'arithmetical proportion,' 
 simply subtracting so much from one side and adding it 
 to the other. This latter Justice is the principle of 
 commerce. The simple *retaHation* of Pythagoras is too 
 rude for either Distributive or Corrective Justice. Just 
 deaHng is a mean between injuring and being injured, so 
 that Injustice is both an excess and a defect. Justice in 
 the strict sense exists only between equals who are 
 subject to the same law. It is pardy natural, partly 
 conventional. One form of justice is Equity, cTrtctVeia. 
 This is a rectification of law in the spirit of the Law- 
 giver, wliere the law fails to prescribe what is just in the 
 particular case, owing to its generality. 
 
 The Sixth IJook returns to the definition of virtue, and 
 the (ihrnsc 'right reason' tlicxe emplo)w1. The 
 »Qul has l)ccn already annlyxod into Irrational and Ra- 
 tional: and we liave shoim tliat tlifC Moral 1C^ a.% 
 tliough havint; tl-KTirfoun^Litioii in the former, must be reg- 
 ulated by >ucr. It remains to explain hoonr this is done 
 
 We h^xw by subnlivkiiiig the rational $oul into the 
 Sckniific part (iifum^/unxAur) which is conceded witli 
 ivcoes^ary truth, and tlic CakTuliti\x? or Di ' " iti%\* 
 (XtrfUTTtKovy /}iir.\<f7(Kc«') , antwerinj; to the 6iiC't • '! 11 to, 
 which is concerned with cxintingent matter. It U tliis 
 latter kind of Reason u*hieh. when combined with Im< 
 ptitde (#rK(K)» becomes Tpoa{oc^«« jmd leads to action. 
 Act»on iucif IS 0^ two l;inds, Ma)i.inj^ (r^ugint) and Doing 
 («]f>a{i«). The rational ex<x^llcncc which » concerned in 
 making is r<\inD, Art* tint which is concerned with docng 
 is ^^>tin)crt(, Practical \Msd<Nn or Prudencer Returning to 
 the lrvTrr)jiM%*cAv^ wc ixi^^. two forms of cxcdleiioc which 
 
112 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 belong to this liead, Intuitive Reason, vov<i, the faculty 
 which supplies first principles (y^pxal), and Discursive 
 Reason, iTnaTtjfxrj, which arrives at truth by reasoning 
 from the principles supplied by voZs; the combination of 
 the two is called <ro<f)ia. Philosophy ; which is the perfec- 
 tion of Reason dealing with that which is divine and 
 eternal, as Prudence is the perfection of Reason dealing 
 with that which concerns human well-beim^. As re^^ards 
 first principles, Prudence is the opposite to the Intuitive 
 reason, being concerned chiefly with particulars which are 
 below demonstration ; it is indeed a sort of moral sense 
 which only acts rightly in the temperate man ; (whence 
 Temperance is called (ruxfypoavi'Tj, the guard of Prudence), 
 and is strengthened by experience. Without moral 
 virtue, Prudence would be mere cleverness, and without 
 Prudence moral virtue would be only a generous instinct 
 liable to per\Trsion. For complete virtue we need both 
 the impulsive and the rational element. This explains 
 the mistake of Socrates in confounding Virtue with 
 Knowledge. 
 
 In the Seventh Pook we have a fuller account of 
 Temperance and the allied and contrasted qualities, which 
 bears no relation to the previous discussion on the subject. 
 It contains a graduated scale of good and evil states 
 in reference to our power of resisting pleasures and pains. 
 Thus, between divine or heroic goodness on the one side 
 and bestial depravity on the other, we have o-(o(^/3o<rvV-»7, 
 where passion is entirely subject to reason; iyKpdriia 
 Continence or Self-control, where reason prevails over 
 resisting passion; oKpaa-la Incontinence, where passion 
 prevails in spite of the resistance of reason; uKoXaaia 
 Intemperance, where reason is entirely subject to passion. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 "3 
 
 Corresponding to iyKparcLa and aKpaa-Lo. m reference to 
 pleasure, we have two states distinguished in reference 
 to pain, KapT€pia endurance, and fxaXaKia effeminacy. 
 
 The account above given of aVpao-ta seems at variance 
 with Socrates' principle that men never do wrong except 
 through ignorance. In what sense is it true that the 
 incontinent man sins against knowledge? Before he is 
 under the influence of passion, he certainly knows that 
 the act is unlawful. Put a man may have knowledge 
 without using it, as in slumber; and a man may un- 
 consciously practise sophistry towards himself, allowing 
 the general principle * excess is wrong,' but shutting his 
 eyes to the particular premiss 'to drink this would be 
 excess,' and attending to anotI>er principle su^este<i by 
 passion, * drinking is pleasant.' Iivximincnec in Anncr k 
 
 not so bad as incontinence in rc-jjjcct to I.iwt, 1 ve 
 
 Anger, which kindles on su.s|»cion oi u'rofi^;, does in a wny 
 listen to Reason, though it lutcnn ami^s j aUo Anger is 
 less deliberate than Lust, and it is accunipanicd irith p«in 
 and is less wanton. There arc two Idiub of iocomincrKt^ 
 the one proceeding from IvL<tiiic>s of temper, where a 
 man acts without deliberation ; the other from weakness 
 of will, where he delibeniles but conivit bold to hk 
 resolve ; the latter is less e^isily ciirctl. HoJiIing to ones 
 resolve is not always a mark of contineiKX); it itkxy even 
 be a kind of incontinence, as wlicn a man s<idU to a 
 wrong opinion merely from «e{f-wili 
 
 In Pook VIII. we return to the genuine Arirfosle. T 
 have thought it worth wlu'Ie to give a somewhat full 
 analysis of the beautiful treatise on <^Xmi conUi»c<l in ilia 
 and the following book, as jwp; . .; A Pagan counter- 
 part to the description o( Christian ay<Lni cooUined 
 M. p. 8 
 
114 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 in the thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the 
 Corinthians. 
 
 Friendship, by which we understand 'mutual affection 
 mutually known,' ^ deserves a place in a treatise on 
 Morals, because it is a great help to leading a virtuous 
 and happy life, and because the best friendship is im- 
 possible without virtue. It is also deeply rooted in human 
 nature, and is the chief bond in civil society. There are 
 three chief kinds of friendship, based respectively on the 
 good, the pleasant, the useful. As the useful merely means 
 that which conduces to good or to pleasure, the three are 
 ultimately reducible to two. Of the three, the first alone 
 is perfect. It is possible only for the good, who wish each 
 other's real good. It is unselfish, unaffected by external 
 considerations, permanent, trustful, built on similarity of 
 tastes, and surpasses the other forms even in their special 
 characteristics of utility and pleasantness. Such friendship 
 is rare and slowly fo.med. The friendships founded on 
 pleasure and on utility are not disinterested, and therefore 
 they are liable to come to an end when they cease to 
 produce these effects. Still such friendships may pass into 
 the true friendship, if virtue is joined to them. Friendship 
 may exist potentially in separation, but for its active 
 exercise frequent intercourse is needed; otherwise it 
 passes into simple good-will (eu^oia). For the formation 
 of friendships sensibility and amiability are needed ; for 
 these make intercourse delightful; and therefore the 
 young are more prompt to make friends than the old. 
 Mere fondness, however, will not suffice: the judgment 
 and the will must combine with the affection to promote 
 the welfare of the beloved. This ideal friendship can 
 
 ^ duTKpiX-rjais ov XavOdvovaa, VIII. 3. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 "5 
 
 only be exercised towards a few, but the friendship of 
 interest or of pleasure may be spread over a large circle. 
 Men in power will have friends of these imperfect kinds, 
 but not a perfect friend, unless they excel in virtue as 
 well as in power. All the forms of friendship imply 
 a kind of equality or reciprocity of good for good, or 
 pleasure for pleasure, or pleasure for use. Where the 
 parties to friendship stand in a position of relative in- 
 feriority and superiority, as parents and children, the 
 balance should be made up by a larger proportion of 
 honour and affection on the part of the inferior. Extreme 
 inequality, as between a man and a God, renders friendship 
 impossible. The essence of friendship is to love rather 
 than to be loved, but the majority prefer to be loved, 
 taking it as a sign of honour. Every association implies 
 something of friendship, as well as of justice. The end 
 of Civil Society is the same as that of friendship, viz. the 
 common good, and all subordinate associations are but 
 parts of the great society of the state. The family union 
 presents counterparts to the various forms of Civil Govern- 
 ment. In the family, friendship varies according to the dif- 
 ferent relationships. Parents love their children as being a 
 part of themselves ; children gradually come to love their 
 parents as benefactors. Brothers love each other as 
 being of common blood, and also from companionship and 
 long intimacy and similar tastes. The friendship of 
 husband and wife has its root in instinct, and is increased 
 by the sense of mutual help and common interests and 
 pleasures and, if they are good, by the delight in each 
 other's virtue. Quarrels and complaints occur most 
 frequently in the case of interested friendships, where 
 each party seeks a surplus of advantage to accrue to 
 
 8—2 
 
 J 
 
^^ ARISTOTLE. 
 
 himself. Such friendship may be either on a business 
 footing, corresponding to legal justice, or it may have 
 more of a moral element, resembling unwritten law. In 
 the latter, no precise stipulation is made, yet still the 
 benefactor expects an equivalent and grumbles^ if he 
 does not receive it. He may please himself with the 
 idea of acting disinterestedly, but when it comes to the 
 point, he prefers payment. It is well therefore to have a 
 clear understanding before receiving the favour, and to 
 do one s best afterwards to repay it in full. The amount 
 returned should be determined by the receiver in propor- 
 tion to what he would have been prepared to give to 
 
 obtain the favour at first. . 
 
 Questions of casuistry arise in reference to conflictmg 
 claims of friendship. In general it may be said that the 
 payment of a debt must take precedence of conferring a 
 favour, and that claims will vary with the nearness of the 
 relationship. Another question relates to the termination 
 of friendships. Where friendship is only for pleasure or use, 
 the connexion ceases with the motive. Where a more ideal 
 friendship is professed, it may be broken off if one of the 
 parties finds that the other has been acting from an inferior 
 motive, or if he finds him out to be a vicious man ; but 
 in the latter case, he is bound to make every effort to 
 reclaim him before breaking off the connexion. Where 
 one party improves and the other remains stationary, it 
 may be impossible for friendship to continue, but there 
 should be kindly feeling for the sake of old association. 
 It is often said that 'a friend is a second self,' and it 
 would seem that a good man's feeling towards a friend is 
 an extension of his feeling towards himself. For he is at 
 unity with himself, and desires and does with all his 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 117 
 
 powers all that is good for himself, i.e. for the intellectual 
 principle within him, which is his true self; and he 
 desires his own continued existence, and takes pleasure 
 in his own society, for his memories of the past are 
 sweet, and he has good hopes for the future, and his 
 mind is fully stored with subjects for contemplation, and 
 his days are 'joined each to each by natural piety.' And 
 just such are his feelings towards his friend. But with a 
 bad man all this is changed : he is at variance with him- 
 self, and lusts after one thing but wishes for another, and 
 chooses what is pleasant, though he knows it to be 
 hurtful, and shrinks in cowardice from what he knows to 
 be best ; and at length, having committed many crimes, 
 he comes to hate his life and puts an end to himself. 
 Moreover the bad man cannot endure his own society, 
 for his memories of the past and his expectations of the 
 future are alike unpleasant; and it is only when in com- 
 pany with others that he can escape from these thoughts. 
 He cannot sympathise with himself, because his soul is 
 torn in sunder by faction, one part grieving at what 
 pleases another part. And thus he is incapable of 
 friendship, either for himself or for another. Gooa- 
 wiU and Unanimity are akin to friendship, but not 
 the same. The first may be felt towards strangers; 
 it is usually called out by the sight of some noble or 
 excellent quality, and forms the natural prelude to friend- 
 ship. By unanimity we understand a unity of sentiment 
 on practical matters, especially among citizens of the 
 same state. The bad are incapable of such unanimity, 
 as they are always seeking to get an advantage over each 
 
 other. , 
 
 What is the explanation of the superior strength 01 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
ii8 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 affection in the benefactor as compared with the bene- 
 fited ? It is not enough to say that this is a case of a 
 creditor desiring the prosperity of the debtor. The 
 benefactor is Hke an artist who loves his work as 
 increasing his sense of his own powers ; he has also the 
 lasting consciousness of doing an honourable act, while 
 the recipient of kindness has only the consciousness of 
 the present profit. Finally the active part taken by the 
 benefactor has more affinity with the active principle of 
 loving. Another question which is asked is whether self- 
 love is good or bad. On the one hand, the worse a man 
 is, the more selfish (</)t/\avros) he is thought to be : on the 
 other hand, we have pointed out that love for self is the 
 original type of love for others. The explanation is that 
 the word self-love (to <j>L\avToi) is used in two senses, 
 havincr reference to two different selves. When we use 
 the name 'self-love' of those who are eager to give to 
 themselves the larger share of honours, riches and bodily 
 pleasures, we mean the love of the lower self, that is, of 
 the appetites and passions and generally of the irrational 
 part of the soul. If on the contrary a man sets himself 
 to do always what is just and temperate and thus wins 
 honour to himself, we should not generally speak of such 
 a man as loving himself; and yet it is plain that he 
 seeks the best and noblest things for himself, and 
 gratifies that principle of his nature which is most 
 rightfully authoritative (xnpi^crai tavrov tw Kvptwrarw); 
 and such a principle we must consider to constitute the 
 man's true self, just as it does in the case of the State or 
 any other system. In this sense then the good man 
 ousht to love himself, for his reason chooses what is in 
 itself best, and in obeying reason he performs noble 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 119 
 
 actions, which not only benefit himself but also do good to 
 others. On the other hand the bad man ought not 
 to love himself, for he will only do harm both to himself 
 and to others by following his evil propensities. It is 
 true that the good man will seem at times to be sacrificing 
 himself for his friends or for his country ; for, for their 
 sakes, he will throw away money and honours and even 
 life itself, if so be he may win true glory (to Ka\6v). Nay 
 he will even surrender to his friend the doing of noble 
 deeds ; and yet, in all, he does what is best for himself 
 and chooses what is best; for to help his friend to 
 honour is more honorable than to win honour for 
 himself, and the rapture of one glorious moment is worth 
 years of common-place life. 
 
 Another question raised is whether the happy man 
 needs friends ? Those who deny this take the view that 
 the only use of friends is to supply a want, and the happy 
 man has no wants. But this is plainly a mistake. For 
 (i) the possession of friends being one of the greatest of 
 external goods is necessarily included in perfect happi- 
 ness : (2) tne happy man will need friends, not as givers, 
 but as recipients of kindness : (3) companionship is a 
 natural want to him as to others : (4) the good man's 
 happiness consists in doing and seeing good, and he can 
 see goodness in a friend more clearly than he can in 
 himself: he delights in a good action for its own sake, 
 and he delights in it still more because it is his friend's : 
 (5) the performance of good acts is made easier and 
 pleasanter and consequently more continuous by their 
 being done in company with others : and (6) to be in the 
 society of the good is a sort of schooling in virtue. The 
 argument may be put in a more metaphysical form as 
 
 1 
 
 ,1 
 
I20 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 follows, *Life is good, especially to the good man; but 
 man's life consists in consciousness' ; the more of con- 
 sciousness the more of life; if then he doubles his 
 consciousness in a good friend, he has so much more of 
 life and therefore of good.' But to enjoy this sympa- 
 thetic consciousness it is necessary to live in the company 
 of the friend anrl share his words and thoughts. 
 
 The number of friends for use or pleasure is limited 
 by convenience. The number of true friends is limited 
 by our incapacity to feel the highest kind of affection for 
 many, and also by the difficulty of harmonious asso- 
 ciation among many ; o\ Se TroAv^iAot ovSci't Sokouo-iv tTrat 
 <^t/\ot, 'the man of many friends is thought to be no one's 
 friend.' 
 
 Friendship is more beautiful in prosperity, more 
 necessary in adversity. In the latter the presence of 
 friends has a mixed effect. While it is sweet to see 
 a friend and be conscious of his sympathy, and while 
 a friend, if he has tact (cat/ 17 eViSe^'ios), is the best of all 
 comforters; yet, on the other hand, it is inconsistent 
 with a manly character to cause unnecessary pain to 
 friends. We should invite our friends to share our good 
 fortune, and we should go unasked to comfort them in 
 their misfortunes, but not sohcit their help ourselves 
 unless the service they are able to do would far outweigh 
 the pain it costs. On the other hand we must beware of 
 the appearance of sullenness in declining offers of help 
 or sympathy. In the ordinary course of life friendship 
 proves itself in companionship. Whatever a man makes 
 the chief interest of his life, from drinking to philosophy, 
 he wishes his friend to share in it. And thus it is that 
 
 * toiKt TO ^rjv eli/ai Kvpius to aladdfcadai yj voelv. IX. 9. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 121 
 
 K 
 
 \ 
 
 the bad are made worse, and the good better by their 
 friendships. 
 
 The subject of the Tenth Book is Pleasure. This 
 forms a part of ethics, because it is an essential element 
 of human life and also of virtuous training ; for to take 
 pleasure in what we ought is the foundation of a good 
 moral character. Two opposite views have been put 
 forward by philosophers, (i) that it is the Sum mum 
 Bonum, (2) that it is altogether bad. Some of the 
 supporters of the latter view have probably overstated 
 tlie case in order to correct man's common proneness 
 to pleasure ; but this is a mistaken policy. The exagge- 
 ration is soon exposed, and its exposure brings the truth 
 itself into disrepute. 
 
 The first argument alleged in favour of pleasure is 
 that pleasure is the one thing which all creatures, rational 
 and irrational, desire; which proves that it must be 
 the Summum Bonum, because all creatures are led by 
 nature to their good, as they are to their proper food. 
 Aristotle defends this argument in so far as it is founded 
 on a universal instinct; o yap iracn 8ok€l tovt ttvaL cf>dfx€v. 
 'Those who dispute this will hardly find any better 
 ground of certainty. Even in the inferior animals nature 
 has infused something of a higher strain which aims at 
 that which is good for them.' I will not dwell on the 
 somewhat technical argumentation which follows, but pass 
 on at once to Aristotle's own view of Pleasure, which 
 comes in, like a virtuous mean, between the two extreme 
 views. Pleasure is something complete in itself at each 
 successive moment of time. It is an accompaniment 
 of the natural activity of the healthy organ or faculty, 
 and is better in proportion to the excellence of the faculty. 
 
 m 
 
 fiC'-: 
 
■WIPWW" 
 
 122 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 123 
 
 It is thus a sort of crowning perfection or consummation 
 of the activity \ Uninterrupted pleasure is an impossi- 
 bility, because our faculties are not capable of uninterrupted 
 exercise. Since pleasure is thus bound up with the activity, 
 and is sweetest when that is best, it is evident that, in 
 seeking to exercise their living powers, all things seek the 
 pleasure which is the accompaniment and token of their 
 most perfect exercise. Thus we may say indifferently that 
 we desire pleasure for the sake of life, or life for the sake 
 of pleasure. 
 
 Pleasures are of different kinds in accordance with 
 the differences of the faculties and activities to which 
 they are attached. Each activity is promoted and inten- 
 sified by its own pleasure ; for instance, he who takes 
 pleasure in a particular study is likely to succeed best in 
 it. On the other hand the activity is impeded by an 
 alien pleasure, as the sound of a flute makes it difticult 
 for a musician to attend to a speech. 
 
 Since activities differ in a moral point of view, and 
 we call some good, some bad ; there must be the same 
 difference among pleasures. Again, the pleasures of in- 
 tellect differ in purity from those of sense ; and the 
 pleasures of sight, hearing, and smell, from those of 
 taste and touch. Each species of animal has its own 
 specific pleasures, as it has its own powers and activities. 
 Even among men we find great varieties of liking, for 
 instance the healthy man and the sick man have a 
 different judgment as to what is sweet. Amid these 
 varieties we shall make the perfect man our stand- 
 ard : that is true pleasure which is pleasure to 
 
 ^ TfXiLoi TTju ivipyeiav 77 t^Sovt], oi'X ws V ^s'* ivvirdpx'^^'f^o.y a^^' ti-'S 
 i-myivd/nevdv ti reXos, dtou toIs aK/xaiois 77 upa, X. 4. 
 
 ' 
 
 him \ But it is no wonder that these pleasures are not 
 agreeable to corrupt and degraded natures, nor on the other 
 hand that what they think pleasures are abhorrent to the 
 virtuous man. 
 
 Aristotle here reverts to his definition of happiness, 
 'an activity in accordance with excellence,' and preemi- 
 nently with the highest excellence, which is that of the 
 highest part of the soul, the reason (vovi). The highest 
 happiness therefore consists in activity of the reason, i. e. 
 in philosophy (Ivipy^ia OewpyjTLKrj). This activity is capable 
 of being sustained longer than any other. It is also the 
 pleasantest, the least dependent on circumstances, and 
 the freest from care ; and it is sought for its own sake 
 without reference to any further result to be gained by 
 it. Such a life of calm contemplation {Oeoifua) continued 
 through an adequate period is the highest human happi- 
 ness ^ Nay, it is more than human, for it is only by virtue 
 of the divine element within him that man is capable 
 of living such a life. And in whatever proportion that 
 
 ^ ^arip €Ka.(TT0V fiirpov -q dperr] Kal 6 ciyados, rj ToiovroSf Kal i^doval 
 (lev av ai Toi'mp (paivofxevaL Kal -qoia cU ovros X"''P"> X. 5. 
 
 2 This high estimate of the philosophic life is common to all the 
 great thinkers of antiquity; see Grant I. p. 197. It is echoed in 
 Virgil's Me vera pHmum dukes ante omnia Musae accipianty caeliqiie 
 vias et sidera monstrent, G. 11. 475 ; and in the description of 
 Klysium, Ae^t. vi. 721. The distinction between the Active and the 
 Contemplative life was familiar in the Middle Ages, and supposed 
 to be symbolized in the persons of Leah and Rachel, Martha and 
 Mary ; see Aquinas Stimma Sec. Sec. Qu. 1 80. But our word 
 'contemplation' is scarcely an equivalent for Aristotle's deupla, 
 suggesting rather the Imitatio Christi than the speculations of a 
 Newton or a Kant, or the poetic musings of a Milton or a Words- 
 worth ; which would certainly approach nearer to Aristotle's concep- 
 tion of what constituted the joy of the philosophic life. 
 
 i 
 
 ^:&z:fijfaiHS»J! 
 
124 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 125 
 
 divine element transcends man's mixed and composite 
 nature, in the same proportion will his purely rational 
 activities transcend those which are inspired by the other 
 virtues'. We often hear it said, that man should be content 
 with his lot and not seek to rise above the limits of 
 mortality; but, if we would attain the highest happiness, we 
 must do the very contrary to this, train ourselves, as far as 
 may be, to think and feel as immortals, and to live with a 
 constant reference to that which is best and highest in our 
 nature'. For that, after all, is the man's truest self; and 
 it would be absurd to prefer another's life to that which 
 is in the truest sense our own proper life. All other 
 virtues, and the happiness which flows from them, are, 
 in comparison with contemplation, human as opposed 
 to divine. They are necessary for society and for the 
 business of life ; they are bound up with man's composite 
 nature, with the passions as well as with the reason, 
 with the corporeal as well as with the spiritual ; they are 
 more or less dependent on circumstances, (thus the hberal 
 man and the just man need some amount of property 
 if they are to give proof of their justice and liberality), 
 while the contemplative life needs only the minimum of 
 external prosperity. On the other hand the contempla- 
 tive life is the only one which we can ascribe to the 
 Gods. For what sort of actions would be congruous 
 with our idea of the divine nature? Not just acts; for 
 
 1 See, on the divine principle in man, Grant's Aristotle I. p. -ZQ^, 
 and the passage quoted there from Gen. Anim. II. 3. 10, XetVerat 
 rhv vQvv iJidvou dvpadev eireiaUvai Koi Oelov eimi fiovov. 
 
 2 ov XPV f ara toi>s Trapaivovuras dvOpujTriva (Ppovelv audpwTrov 6vTa 
 om du-nra Tbv evTTTOv, aXV i<t> oaov evdex^TaUdapan^etu Kai wduTa 
 TTOUitf Tpbs rb ^-qv Kara rb KpariffTOV tQu €V avT(^, X. 7. 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 what have they to do with contracts and deposits ? nor 
 brave acts; for what danger can threaten them? nor 
 temperate acts; for what passions have they to need 
 restraint ? And yet the Gods are in the full enjoyment 
 of conscious life. If then this life is not one of action, 
 still less one of production, nothing remains but that 
 it should be a life of contemplation. And thus it is 
 in the contemplative life that man approaches most 
 nearly the eternal blessedness of the Gods. The other 
 animals have no share in happiness because they are 
 incapable of contemplation. 
 
 Something of external prosperity is needed for the 
 putting forth of that activity which constitutes happiness, 
 but the wisest of men are agreed that what is needful 
 is very small. And if there is any providential care of 
 mankind, surely it is reasonable to suppose that he who 
 cherishes reason above all things, and passes his life in 
 harmony with reason, will be dear to tliose to whom 
 reason is dear, and consequently under the special charge 
 of the Gods and receive from them all he needs. 
 
 Our theory is now complete, but theory has little 
 influence except with the small minority who are pre- 
 disposed to virtue. The mass of mankind are insensible 
 to appeals to reason or honour. Living by the rule of 
 their passions they know of no higher pleasures than can 
 be obtained through these. What is to be done, if such 
 as these are to be reformed ? Some hold that goodness 
 is a gift of nature, some that it comes from teaching, 
 others that it comes from habituation. If the first is 
 a true account, we can ascribe it only to a special divine 
 blessing ; the second, as we have said, is only efficacious 
 where the soul of the learner has been duly prepared, 
 
 !! 
 
126 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 127 
 
 as soil to receive good seed, by being accustomed to like 
 and dislike as he ought ; when a man is once enslaved 
 to his passions, there is no reasoning with him. We must 
 therefore begin a course of habituation early in life. It 
 is a part of the duty of the State to provide a system of 
 public education and to enforce discipline by punish- 
 ments, and this authoritative control should be con- 
 tinued through the whole of life, as at Sparta. Where 
 such a system docs not exist, private individuals should 
 do their best to train and influence for good those who 
 come within their reach. For this purpose it is necessary 
 that they should endeavour to acquaint themselves with 
 the principles of legislation and gain something of the 
 spirit of a legislator. But where and how is this to be 
 learnt? Up to the present time we have nothing but 
 the empirical politics of the statesman, or the doctrinaire 
 politics of the sophist. Aristotle proposes to construct 
 a science of Politics from which to determine the nature 
 of the best State and the laws by which it will train its 
 citizens to virtue. 
 
 The sequel to the Ethics, as we might infer from the 
 last sentence, is to be found in the Politics. Before 
 proceeding to the analysis of the latter, I will make one 
 or two brief remarks upon the former. First, as to 
 Aristotle's general conception of Ethics, is he to be called 
 a Eudaemonist ? So it has often been said, because he 
 makes €u8ai/xovta the end to which man's life and actions 
 should be referred. But the well-being and well-doing, 
 the cvCoJia and ^virpa^ia, which constitute the €v8ai/xovta 
 of Aristotle, are carefully distinguished from any form of 
 pleasurable sensation. EvSaifioi'ia with him is a particular 
 
 J 
 
 kind of putting forth of the powers of the soul, which is 
 intrinsically good by itself, quite apart from the pleasure 
 which, as a matter of fact, attends it like its shadow. 
 Virtuous activity does not become good because it is a 
 means to pleasure; it is good as being itself the end we 
 should aim at. We admire it in and for itself, as we 
 admire a beautiful statue. This view is of course very 
 far removed from the Epicurean and also from the 
 modern Utilitarian. It agrees with these in so far as it 
 determines the quality of our actions by referring them 
 immediately to an end, instead of to an absolute law, or 
 intuitive conception of right; but the end is neither 
 pleasure to self nor pleasure to others, but the perfect 
 fulfilment of the epyov of man. And to know what this 
 perfect fultilment is, we must fall back on reason em- 
 bodied in the judgment of the wise man. It is no doubt 
 a grave defect in Aristotle's system, as compared with 
 Utilitarianism or with Christianity, that in determining 
 the quality of actions, he only incidentally, as in the dis- 
 cussion on friendship, notices their influence on the well- 
 being of others; in fact, he nowhere gives any clear 
 statement of the grounds of reason on which the wise man 
 founds his judgment as to the virtuous mean. Secondly, 
 as to the doctrine of the 'Mean' itself, I think every one 
 must feel that, while it is highly important to insist on 
 balance, proportion, moderation, as an element of a 
 perfect character, yet to make this the dijferentia of virtue, 
 is both superficial and misleading. Aristotle himself 
 confesses that the definition is not always strictly 
 applicable; and, if we try to apply it to the higher 
 Christian conception of virtue, as love towards God and 
 Man, it of course fails utterly: there can be no excess of 
 
 \ 
 
128 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 such love. But confining ourselves to cases which 
 Aristotle gives, and where the doctrine of the mean 
 might seem least unsatisfactory, as in the definition of 
 courage, this would seem to imply that there is a certain 
 quality or instinct, which is found existing in three 
 different degrees; a small degree constituting cowardice, 
 a somewhat larger amount courage, a larger still rashness. 
 Whereas the truth is that, while courage and rashness do 
 differ in degree, and spring from the same instinctive root, 
 cowardice differs from them both in kind, and springs 
 from an entirely different instinct. There cannot be less 
 of the natural impulse which, moralized and rationalized, 
 becomes courage, than none at all; yet such a negative 
 state would never give rise to the impulse to run away, 
 which springs from another positive principle, the desire 
 of self-preservation. Aristotle's *Mean' is in fact an 
 attempt to express two distinct circumstances in regard 
 to the moral constitution of man, one that the several 
 instincts are indeed the raw material of as many virtues, 
 but that, if untrained and unchecked, they run to excess 
 and become vices; and, secondly, that the perfect 
 character is one in which all the various instincts are 
 harmoniously developed, so that the adventurous instinct, 
 for instance, is balanced by the cautious instinct; one 
 giving rise to the virtue of courage, the other to the virtue 
 of prudence. The last point on which I shall touch is 
 the divergence between the Aristotelian and Christian 
 ethics. I have mentioned the absence of benevolence 
 from Aristotle's list of virtues. In this he fails to give a 
 right idea of our relation towards our fellow-men; but 
 the main defects of his system arise from his defective 
 idea of our relation to God. In regard to theology, as in 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 129 
 
 regard to every thing else, Aristotle seeks to find some 
 confirmation for his own view in the ordinary belief of 
 men. He thinks that the human race is for ever passing 
 through alternate cycles of barbarism and civilization, 
 and that in the traditional beliefs of men w^e may see, as 
 it were, a ray of earlier light which has not been entirely 
 extinguished in its passage through succeeding dark- 
 ness'. [Such is Aristotle's matter-of-fiict rendering of 
 the '• Reminiscence ' (am/^rvyo-is) of Plato ^] It is this 
 primaeval tradition which teaches us that all nature is 
 encompassed by Deity, and that the heaven itself and 
 the heavenly bodies are divine. Eut this original belief 
 has got incrusted with mythological additions, partly 
 owing to man's natural tendency to generalize his own 
 experience ■', and attribute to the Gods whatever belongs 
 to himself; and partly to design on the part of legislators 
 with a view to moral or political expediency. While 
 Aristotle considers these fables unwortliy of serious atten- 
 tion "* he is not roused like Plato, to protest against their 
 immoral tendency. Nor, again, will he accept Plato's idea 
 of God as the Creator and Governor of the world. Sucli 
 an idea appears to him unworthy of the Deity and incon- 
 sistent with the blessedness which we ascribe to Him. 
 The supreme God of Aristotle is the perfection of wisdom, 
 the never-ceasing cause of all the beauty and order of the 
 universe; but we cannot speak of Him as acting, or, as 
 
 ^ Cf. Zcllor, II. 2. p. 792 with the references, especially JA'/. xil. 8. 
 
 ^ See above p. 43. 
 
 ^ Cf. Pol. I. 2, wa-rrep tcl etdrj eavrois d(pofxoiouaiv ol dvOpfairoi^ 
 ovTui Kol Tovs ^lovs tQ)v Oei2v. 
 
 ^ Met. II. 4, Trept rij^v fivOiKus ao(piioiiivu)v (such as llesiocl) ovk 
 a^LOV fiera a-jrovdqs (tkottuv. 
 
 M. P. 9 
 
130 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 displaying moral virtue; He is not in any sense a 
 moral Governor ; no idea of Duty or of Sin arises in 
 us at the thought of the relation in which we stand to 
 Him. The same reason may probably explain why 
 humility is treated as a fliiling; why nothing is said of 
 purity, as distinct from self-mastery; and why the descrip- 
 tion of the crowning virtue of magnanimity, presents so 
 much that is offensive to our present feeling. There is 
 a further difference between the Aristotelian and the 
 Christian views as to the immortality of the soul. Aris- 
 totle, it is true, allows immortality to vov^, the rational 
 element in man, but his statements in regard to the 
 continuance of a separate individual existence after death 
 are extremely vague \ The thought of immortaUty is far 
 from having the same practical intluence with him, as it 
 had with Plato. 
 
 I proceed now to the analysis of the PoUtics\ which 
 commences, as is usual in Aristotle's writings, with a broad 
 
 generalization^ 
 
 Every association aims at some good, and the State, as 
 the highest and most comprehensive association, at the 
 highest and most comprehensive good. The elements of 
 
 1 See Grant, Ethics of Aristotle i. p. ?94 foil. 
 
 2 En-lish editions by Eaton, 1855, and Congreve, ed. 2, 1874; a 
 better one of books i, 3, 4 ^vith translation by Bolland and Lang, 
 1878 See Oncken Staatslchre des Aristotclcs, 1877, and an essay on 
 •Aristotle's conception of the State' by A. C. Bradley in ^.to/V^. 
 
 3 It is a great drawback to this interesting and admirable book 
 that it has come down to us in such a confused and fragmentary 
 state. In my analysis I have arranged the topics in the order which 
 seemed to me most natural, disregarding altogether the order of the 
 books after the first two. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 131 
 
 the State, in the ultimate analysis, are male and female, 
 ruler and ruled. Society originates in the instinctive and 
 necessary combination of these elements, for the sake of 
 the preservation and perpetuation of the race. The 
 simplest form of society is the family, consisting of 
 husband, wife, children, slave. Out of a combination of 
 families is produced the village (kco/x,?;), governed by the 
 eldest progenitor ; out of a combination of villages is 
 produced the complete and self-sufficing organization of 
 the State (7ro'A.ts) still under the government of One. i.. 
 Though later in time, this is essentially prior (irpoTepovj; 
 (f>v(TeL) to the family or the individual, as every whole isj 
 prior to its parts, because man is by nature a political 
 animal, and only attains his perfection in the State. 
 Whoever is unfitted for the State must be either above or 
 below humanity (r) Oeo^ y OrjpCov). Without political 
 society man is without justice and law, and becomes 
 the worst of animals, as he is the best armed with courage 
 and craft. 
 
 The theory of the Family has to do with persons and 
 with possessions. In regard to the former it embraces 
 the relations of master to slave, of husband to wife, 
 of father to child. To these relations correspond three 
 forms of government, despotism, civil magistracy, mon- 
 archy. As to the question whether slavery is natural and 
 lawful or not, it would seem that, if there are any men 
 whose tpyov consists in bodily activity alone, and who 
 can only be said to have a share in reason in so far as, 
 without possessing it themselves, they are capable of 
 receiving it from others, from whom they differ as much 
 as the body differs from the soul, — then slavery is the 
 best condition for them, and they are by nature slaves : 
 
 9—2 
 
 J 
 
132 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 but where this difference is not found, as in the case of 
 Greeks enslaved by Greeks, there slavery is unnatural and 
 unlawful. The slave, not possessing the deliberative 
 faculty, is only capable of the inferior virtues, such as 
 temperance, in the degree in which they are needed for 
 his work. There is a corresponding diftcrencc between 
 the virtue of a man, a woman and a child'. 
 
 In treating of wealth we have to distinguish between 
 what is real and what is fiictiiious. In increasing 
 the former we actually increase the general stock of 
 useful things by agriculture, hunting, or otherwise; in 
 increasing tlie latter we merely add to our own store of 
 money, which is simply a convenient token. The worst 
 and most unnatural form of accumulation is usury. 
 
 The Second Book commences witli a criticism of 
 Plato's Republic. It is founded on the wrong princijile, 
 that unity is the perfection of the State. So far from this 
 being the case, the State, as it approaches unity, loses its 
 character of a community, becoming first a fiimily, then 
 an individual. Even if unity were the perfection of the 
 State, Socrates (Aristotle prefers to make him the nominal 
 opponent) uses the wrong means to attain it. For (i) as 
 regards community of women, it is impossible for 'all to 
 have all in common,' if we use the word 'all' distributive- 
 ly; and, if it is used collectively, (affirming a general 
 
 ^ 6 (xkv 5oi}\os oXws ovK e^ft to ^ovXevriKov, to de OtjXv e'xf t /ueV, 
 aW CLKvpov, bh irah ^x^^ M^^> o-XX' a.T€\^s...CoCTe 01% V avT-q 
 cno(ppoavuii] yvvaiKos Kai dvdpSs, 01)0' dvdpia /cat diKaioffiivr}, Ka.da.Trep 
 i^ero — oj/cpctTT/s, aXX' t; jx^v apxiK-q, rj 5' vinjpeTLKr}. Compare, on the 
 difference of the male and female character, CEcon. I. 3, and the 
 very elaborate comparison in the Ilist. An. IX. i, quoted by Zcller 
 II. 2. p. 688. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ^35 
 
 right, without granting to each the enjoyment of that 
 right), this would have no tendency to produce harmony. 
 (2) Such policy would lead to an absence of interest : 
 every man's duty being no man's duty. The son ship pro- 
 posed would be a weaker tie than the most distant relation- 
 ship now recognized. (3) It is impracticable : resemblance 
 would betray the closer relationship. (4) Concealment of 
 relationship would open the door to offences against 
 nature. (5) As regards property. Communism destroys the 
 charm of property and the virtue of liberality \ (6) The 
 State is split up into two nations differing altogether in 
 manners and institutions. (7) The argument from the 
 customs of animals {oh oLKovofjiLa^ ovSlv /jl€T€(ttlv) to 
 the customs of men, ignores the moral ditference be- 
 tween the two. After urging these and similar objec- 
 tions, Aristotle proceeds to point out defects in the more 
 practical Ideal contained in the £a7C's, as also in the 
 ideal commonwealths of Phaleas and others. He dis- 
 cusses, by the way, how far it is desirable to make 
 changes in laws. On the one hand, laws need constant 
 improvement ; men should not care for antiquity but for 
 utility. On the other hand, since laws derive their force 
 from custom, every change must weaken the reverence 
 which the citizens should have for the constitution. The 
 book ends with an account of the constitutions of Sparta, 
 Crete &c. 
 
 Existing forms of government may be classified as 
 follows. A State may be ruled by One, by the few^ who are 
 rich, or by the many who are poor ; and the rule is just or 
 unjust, as it is for the public good, or for the good of the 
 
 ^ See p. 1263 p^Xnov duai fxh iUas ras kt^<T€i?, t-q U xP^?*^" 
 iroietv KOLi'ds. 
 
134 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 rulers only. We shall thus have three normal or legitimate 
 forms of government and three perversions (TrapcK/Jao-ets), 
 monarchy (/SacrtXcta) with its perversion tyranny (rrpant?), 
 aristocracy (apto-TOKparta) with its perversion oligarchy 
 (oAtyapxta), and republic (TroXtrcta) with its perversion 
 democracy (8r;p,oKpaTia). Each of these is better or worse 
 in proportion as it is adapted to the nature and position 
 of the people, and as it approaches to the ideal State, the 
 true aptaroKpaTia, of which the end is to dispose all the 
 citizens to a noble and virtuous activity; not simply to train 
 for war, as Lycurgus sought to do, but far more to foster 
 the peaceful virtues of self-control, justice, wisdom, 
 since all war is undertaken for the sake of peace, as 
 all business for the sake of leisure. This ideal State 
 requires certain external advantages (as the good man 
 his jStos To\eio>). It must not be too small for strength, 
 or too large for unity' ; must possess a country fruitful, not 
 luxurious, well situated for commerce and for defence. 
 The people must neither have the fierceness of the North, 
 nor the softness of the East, but combine spirit with 
 intelligence like the Greeks, who are the mean between 
 these two extremes. None can be admitted to citizenship 
 who are incapable of exercising the virtues of the 
 citizen, which in the ideal State will be identical with 
 all human virtue. That is to say, all the citizens will 
 be gentlemen enjoying an honorable and virtuous leisure 
 (o-;^oXa^ovTcs €/\€v^epta)S a/xa Kat cruj<^pora)? Fol. VII. 5 p. 
 1326), supported in part by the State and in part by 
 their hereditary allotments, which will be worked for them 
 
 1 It is remarkable that Aristotle, writing after the conquests of 
 Alexander, scenes to have no suspicion that the Stateof the futurewoulJ 
 exceed the limits of a Greek iroXts. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 135 
 
 by slaves or other dependents. They will have common 
 meals, as at Sparta, and form the standing army during 
 the military age, after which they will be employed in 
 civil duties and such magistracies as they may be appointed 
 to by the common vote. Their highest work, however, 
 will be thouglit and study, the advancement of science 
 and the superintendence of education. When age unfits 
 them for more active duties they will become eligible for 
 the priesthood. The number of citizens and allotments 
 being strictly limited by law, it will be the duty of the 
 magistrates to regulate marriage with a view to restrict the 
 number of children and to prevent any but the healthiest 
 and strongest being reared. Children born under the 
 conditions sanctioned by the law will be taught at home 
 till their 7th year, and will then be sent to the public 
 schools, where the education will be directed to train 
 the body, the feelings, and the reason for a noble life. 
 Unfortunately we have only an incomplete account of 
 the subjects of education. Besides Reading and Writing, 
 Drawing is recommended as training the eye to beauty 
 of form ; Music is praised, not only for the pleasure it 
 gives, but for its power of calming the passions and 
 generally for its moral influence : it is the natural 
 expression of emotion and tends to produce the emotion 
 which it expresses ; it is therefore of great importance to 
 exclude all music which is of a vulgar or debasing 
 character. Education should be general and liberal, not 
 utilitarian or professional'. One of its chief uses is to 
 teach the proper use of leisure {(i^'kaii.iv KoXd^). 
 
 ^ TO ^rjTeiv TravraxoO to xPV^i^/J-ov TJKiara apfioj^eL tois fJieyd\o\fvxoLS 
 Kal rots iXevdepoii. Pol, V. p. 1338 a. 
 
136 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 137 
 
 To return to existing constitutions, Monarchy is allow- 
 able wlicrc one citizen far surpasses all tlie others in 
 wisdom and virtue, or where the mass of the people 
 are only fit for subjection, as in the East. Aristocracy 
 is allowable where the qualitative su})eriority of the 
 wealthy more than counterbalances the quantitative supe- 
 riority of the poor. A republic is best where the citizens 
 are nearly on a level in respect to the contribution of 
 service which they bring to the State. It has an advantage 
 because it interests the majority in the government; and 
 though, taken separately, the poor may be inferior to the 
 rich, yet in combinatioii they may surpass them ; as for 
 instance the popular judgment is decisive in works of 
 art. 'riiey should share in any part of government which 
 can be safely intrusted to a number, and have a voice in 
 electing the higher officers. Each of these three normal 
 constitutions is better in itself and niore likely to be per- 
 manent, the more it borrows from the other tv/o, and 
 the more influence it allows to the nnddle class which 
 forms the link between rich and poor. Revolutions 
 are brought about by the excess of the characteristic 
 ([uality of each constitution, as an oligarchy is over- 
 thrown by the temper shown in the oligarchical oath 
 ' I will be an enemy of the Commons and do them all 
 the harm I can '.' The true policy is the exact contrary; 
 the government should show special tenderness to the 
 interest which it does not itself represent. It is a sign 
 of a good, i.e. an appropriate constitution, when no portion 
 of the body politic is desirous of organic change. The 
 functions of government are Deliberative, Administrative 
 
 1 7(p 5/;/xy /caAToroi's ^cro/iat koX (SovXevau 6 ti B.u ix^c kukov. Pol. V. 9. 
 
 ' 
 
 and Judicial. General principles should be as far as 
 possible laid down by the Law, leaving only questions 
 of fact and details of application to be determined by 
 votes of assemblies or the judgment of the magistrate. 
 When the Law rules, it is the rule of Reason and of God; 
 when man rules, without law, he brings with him the 
 wild beast of passion \ 
 
 Aristotle treats at considera])le length of the varieties 
 of each kind of constitution, e.g. of the difference caused 
 in the nature of a democracy, according as the citizens 
 are mainly agricultural or manufacturing, and as the 
 franchise is higlier or lower. He points out, wdth very 
 full historical illustrations, the characteristics of each 
 variety, the dangers to which it is exposed and the 
 means of guarding against them. IMany of the maxims 
 of Machiavelli's Prlucc are taken from Aristotle's chapters 
 on the Tyrant. The broad distinction between the 
 normal constitution and its perversion seems here to 
 pass into a gradation of varieties, a view which is per- 
 haps more in accordance with actual facts. 
 
 It is strange that, in constructing his Ideal State, 
 Aristotle should have fallen into some of the errors which 
 he condemns in Plato. As far as Ave can judge from the 
 imperfect sketch which he has left, there would have been 
 less of common feeling between his gentleman-citizens and 
 the urban and rural population by whose labour they are 
 supported, than between Plato's Guardians and Artizans. 
 The latter had at any rate the name of citizens, and Plato 
 
 ^ 6 iikv ovv rhv vb[xov KtXeiuiv apx^tp doKci KeXevttv apx^iv rhv 6(bv 
 K-al rhv vovv fJLjvovs, 6 5' avOpiairov KeXcvuv TrpojTidT]at Kal Or,plov. 
 Pd. III. 16. 
 
138 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 makes provision for raising promising boys from tlie lower 
 class into the higher. Probably Aristotle thought that the 
 disaffection of citizens was likely to be more dangerous 
 than that of slaves or Metoeci, who were sure to reco^-nize 
 their own unfitness to rule. The philosophic disbelief 
 in the possibility of virtue, i.e. of thoughtfulness and a 
 sense of honour, in artizans and labourers (^//res and 
 ^amuo-oi), becomes more remarkable when we remember 
 that many of the philosophers themselves belonged to 
 this class, from the time of Protagoras the porter, and 
 the Socratics Aeschines and Simon, down to the time 
 of the^ slave Epictetus. Again Aristotle, no less than 
 Plato, is open to the charge of making regulations Trapa 
 ^v(Tiv, when he sanctions abortion and exposure of inf:ints. 
 The contrast between Aristotle's philosophy of Man 
 and his philosophy of Nature, between the richness of 
 ideas, the exhaustive analysis, the firm grasp of flict, the 
 sound judgment, which characterize the former, and the 
 barren notionalism which is too prevalent in the latter, 
 is a striking justification of Socrates' resolve to keep clear 
 of physics. Aristotle indeed is unfortunate even as com- 
 pared with other ancient writers on the same subject. 
 While Parmenides and Plato, as we have seen, profess to 
 give nothing more than guesses as to the nature of the 
 Universe, Aristotle puts forward his views with an air of 
 scientific precision which makes his mistakes seem all the 
 more absurd; and he often deliberately rejects anticipa- 
 tions of later science which may be found in the writings 
 of his predecessors. Thus Pythagoras having guessed 
 that the earth was a planet moving round the central fire 
 of the Universe, Aristotle rebukes him for not squaring 
 his causes and theories with the apparent facts, but en- 
 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 139 
 
 deavouring to force facts to suit his fancies {De Caclo, 11. 
 13)'. So Democritus had already exploded the doctrine 
 of the four elements, substituting for it the more scientific 
 conception of atoms; similarly he had explained circular 
 movement as a resultant of various rectilinear move- 
 ments ; and Epicurus afterwards distinctly controverted 
 the attribution of a natural upward movement to air 
 and fire^ as well as the Aristotelian limitation of Spaced 
 And yet, if we hold Plato right in describing the 
 philosopher as one who is enamoured of all truth and all 
 knowledge**, we can hardly blame Aristotle either for 
 his boundless curiosity in seeking to ascertain facts and 
 causes, or for his endeavour to harmonize all facts, 
 whether of inner or outer experience, and so to build 
 up one all-embracing body of science. No doubt he, 
 like his predecessors, thought the human microcosm 
 to be a truer mirror of the macrocosm than it really is, 
 and was disposed to assume as a law of the objective 
 universe whatever appeared to satisfy our subjective needs 
 and tastes; and yet he made a decided advance by 
 insisting on the importance of observation, and on the 
 necessity of testing theory by comparison with the actual 
 phenomenal Again it is no doubt true that when he 
 
 ^ It is probable, however, that, in this criticism, Aristotle is 
 thinking chiefly of the Anti-Chthon, invented for the purpose of 
 making up the sacred number Ten. 
 
 2 See Lucr. 11 185. 
 
 ^ Lucr. I 958. 
 
 4 Rep. V. 475. 
 
 ^ See Gai. An. iii. 10. § 25. 'From our reasoning and from the 
 apparent facts, such would seem to be the truth about the bees ; but 
 the facts have not yet been fully ascertained : when they have been, 
 
140 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 \ 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 ventured into the province of Tbysical Science, Aristotle 
 was endeavouring to map out a terra incoi:;fiifa which he 
 had no means for exploring. He had neither the 
 methods nor the instruments which were needed: but 
 were men to wait for the microscope and telescope, or 
 for the full development of the various branches of 
 mathematical and physical science, before formulating 
 any ideas on the general character of the universe in 
 which they were placed? Now, that we know that 
 Aristotle was following a blind path in his endless refine- 
 ments on the meaning of 'motion' and similar terms, we 
 may find his physical treatises ^inexpressibly fatiguing 
 and unfruitful';' but the question is, whether it was not 
 worth while to make some attempt at a working hypo- 
 thesis which miglit supply men with a framework in 
 which to arrange their thoui^hts and feelincrs with reirard 
 to the nature of the vrorld around them. There is a 
 value in the prophet's vision as well as in the historian's 
 narrative; and men may be thankful to the philosopher 
 who gives wings to their imagination and extends the 
 limit of their mental horizon, however much he may 
 have failed to anticipate the revelations of modern 
 science. 
 
 To turn now to the history of Aristotle's writings. 
 All readers of Aristotle have had to complain of the 
 defective arrangement and the general abstruseness of 
 
 then we must trust observation more than theory, and only trust our 
 theory if it gives results corresponding to the phenomena,' tol^ 
 X670£S TTKTTevTeov iav d/xoXoyov/neva deiKvvucn to?s (pai.vofi(voLS. Com- 
 pare a multitude of similar passages in Bonitz's IiuLx under 
 
 ^ Lewes Aristotle, p. 127. 
 
 1 
 
 141 
 
 his works. This has been accounted for, partly, by the 
 supposition that the treatises which have come down to us 
 under his name, consist of notes for lectures hastily revised 
 by himself, or edited after his death by his disciples, and 
 partly by the story, reported by Strabo and others, of their 
 concealment for nearly 150 years in the cellar of Neleus. 
 According to this story, the Library and MSS. of Aristotle 
 passed, at the death of his successor Theophrastus, into 
 the hands of Neleus, a pupil of the latter, and were taken 
 by him to Scepsis, a city which was then under the rule of 
 the kings of Pergamus. These kings appear to have paid 
 little regard to the rights of property in their desire to 
 augment the royal library, which was almost as renown- 
 ed as that of the Ptolemies; and the descendants of 
 Neleus could only preserve their treasures by hiding 
 them in a cellar where they suffered much from worms 
 and damp. When the last Attalus left his kingdom to 
 
 the Romans in 
 
 ^ZZ 
 
 B.C., the then owner of the IMSS. 
 
 brought them out from their concealment and sold them 
 to Apellicon, a Peripatetic residing at Athens, who at 
 once had copies made, and endeavoured, not very succes- 
 fully, to restore the text where it was defective. The 
 library of Apellicon was seized by Sulla on his conquest 
 of Athens in ^6 e.g., and transported to Rome, where 
 the Aristotelian MSS. once more fell into the hands of a 
 competent reader in the person of the Rhodian Androni- 
 cus, who brought out a new edition in which the treatises 
 were rearranged and the text much improved. This 
 edition is considered to be the foundation of our existing 
 text of Aristotle. There seems no doubt that somehow 
 or other the abstruser works of Aristotle had been lost to 
 common use not many years after his death. Strabo 
 
142 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 ARISTOTLE. 
 
 tells us that only a few of the more popular treatises were 
 
 in the possession of the Peripatetic school at Athens, and 
 
 this is what we miglit infer from the manner in which Cicero 
 
 speaks of the style of Aristotle/— using expressions which 
 
 are certainly anything but appropriate to the books which 
 
 have come down to us,— as well as from the comparative 
 
 frequency of his references to the lost Dialogues. Again 
 
 we find in Diogenes Laertius a list taken probably from 
 
 the catalogue of the Alexandrine Library, containing the 
 
 names of 146 separate Aristotelian treatises, of which 
 
 more than twenty are dialogues. This would represent 
 
 Aristotle as he was known at the beginning of the 2nd 
 
 century B.C. Our existing Aristotle consists of 46 treatises, 
 
 very icw of which ajjpear in the list of Diogenes. 
 
 As a specimen of the more popular style by which 
 Aristotle was best known during the interval from Theo- 
 phrastus to Andronicus I insert here a translation of a 
 passage from his dialogue Dc Fhilosophia preserved by 
 Cicero {N. £>. 11. 95). 
 
 'Imagine a race of men who had always lived under 
 ground in beautiful houses adorned with pictures and 
 statues and every luxury of wealth. Suppose that some 
 dim rumour of a divine being had reached them in their 
 subterranean world. Then suppose that the earth were 
 to open and they ascended up from their dark abodes 
 and saw before them all the wonders of this world. 
 Could they doubt, when they beheld the earth and the 
 sea and the sky with its gathering clouds and its mighty 
 winds, and the glory and majesty of the sun as he floods 
 the heaven with the light of day, and then the starry 
 
 See ^r^^/. n. 119, vcnid flumen orationis aiireiim fimdcns 
 Aristotelcs, and the other passages cited in Grote's Aristotle, i. 43. 
 
 143 
 
 j 
 
 f 
 
 heaven of night, and the varying brightness of the waxing 
 and the waning moon, and the regular movements of all 
 the heavenly bodies and their risings and settings 
 governed by an everlasting and unchanging law, — could 
 they doubt that the Gods really existed, and that these 
 mighty works were theirs ?' 
 
 With the death of Aristotle a new age begins. The 
 fearless spirit of Greek thought which had soared up- 
 wards as on eagle wings to the empyrean, gazing with 
 Plato on the Ideas clustered around the one supreme 
 Idea of Good, contemplating with Aristotle the Thought 
 of Thought, the Form and End and Cause of all existence, 
 sank back to earth in weariness when once the spell of 
 the mighty masters was removed. A feebler generation 
 followed whose lot was cast in a more ungenial time. As 
 the great prae-Socratic movement had terminated in the 
 scepticism of the Sophists, so this greater movement 
 produced its natural reaction in the scepticism of Pyrrho 
 and the later Academy. Even the dogmatic systems 
 which sprang up along with them, while asserting man's 
 claim to know, yet changed the object and limited the 
 range of knowledge, as it was understood by the preceding 
 age. Lofty ideaHst systems require strenuous effort of 
 thought and imagination on the part of their adherents, if 
 they are not to wither into mere empty phrases and 
 barren formalism. While the founders Xwq, enthusiastic 
 faith gives a motive for effort, and supplies any deficiency 
 in the evidence demanded by reason: when that first 
 enthusiasm has died away, slumbering doubts awake in 
 the minds of the more independent disciples, and the ruder 
 and coarser among them are likely to seize on some one 
 
 J 
 
144 
 
 ARISTOTLE, 
 
 portion or aspect of the master's teaching, losing siglit 
 of its more subtle and refined elements, and to make 
 that stand for the whole ; or perhaps they break away 
 altogether and fall back on some earlier and simpler 
 philosophy. 
 
 So here, men were not only repelled by the difhculty 
 of understanding what Plato and Aristotle really meant; 
 they had further positive grounds for departing from 
 them when they found them opposed to each otlier on 
 essential points, such as the nature and import of ideas, 
 when they saw the weaknesses of the former laid bare in 
 the criticisms of the latter, and became aware of the 
 vagueness and uncertainty which characterized the 
 the critic's own utterances in regard to questions of deep 
 practical interest such as the nature of God and the provi- 
 dential government of the wodd. Under these circum- 
 stances those who still believed that it was possible for men 
 to attain to knowledge, practically limited the range of 
 knowlediie to what had reference to man's own immediate 
 use ; all that they asked for was knowledge so far as it 
 is needed to direct the life of man ; and by man they 
 meant the individual standing alone, not man as the 
 citizen of a Greek ttJAi?. We shall see, when we come to 
 speak of the Stoics, in what way the political circum.- 
 stances of the time contributed to this change of \iew. 
 Again, the abstruseness and indefiniteness, which offended 
 them in preceding philosophers, were especially connected 
 with Ideas and Forms, with the depreciation of the senses 
 and the glorification of incorporeal spirit. All this might 
 be avoided by the assumption that the sole ground of 
 knowledge is sensation, and that body is the only thing 
 which can either act or be acted upon. The post 
 
 PERIPATETICS. 
 
 145 
 
 Aristotelian schools therefore were predominantly ethical, 
 sensationalist, and materialist, as opposed to the idealistic 
 metaphysics of the preceding age. 
 
 Of these schools the least original and the least 
 important is the Peripatetic. The immediate successor 
 of Aristotle was Theophrastus, whose Characters and 
 treatises on Potany we still possess, together with 
 fragments of other works. He appears to have carried 
 further his master's investigations upon particular points, 
 without diverging from his general principles. Cicero 
 charges him with assigning too much weight to fortune 
 as an element of happiness. Strato, who succeeded 
 him as head of the Lyceum in 287 ji.c, dethroned the 
 NoKs of Aristotle, and explained the ordered movement of 
 the universe by ascribing ' to the several parts of matter an 
 inward plastic life, whereby they could artificially frame 
 themselves to the best advantage according to their 
 several capabilities without any conscious or reflexive 
 knowledge '.' Cicero says that he is omniiio semoveitdus 
 from the true Peripatetics, as he abandoned ethics and 
 departed very widely from his predecessors in physics, to 
 which he confined himself Aristoxenus and Dicaearchus 
 were contemporaries of Theophrastus; the former is 
 chiefly known as the writer of the first scientific treatise 
 on Music, the latter was a voluminous popular writer 
 much esteemed by Cicero. He denied the immortality 
 of the soul. After the time of Andronicus, mentioned 
 above, the Peripatetics were chiefly known as laborious 
 commentators. Cratippus presided over the school during 
 the lifetime of Cicero, who sent young Marcus to Athens 
 to attend his lectures. 
 
 iM. p. 
 
 ^ Cudworni I. p. 14Q. 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 SCEPTICS, 
 
 The first name among the Sceptics is Pyrrho of Elis 
 ffl. about 320 B.C.), who is said to have had some 
 connexion with the Megarian and the Atomic schools, 
 and to have accompanied Alexander on his expedition 
 into India, and thus learnt something of the doctrines of 
 the Magi and the Indian Gymnosophists. Perhaps the 
 influence of the latter may be traced in the three posi- 
 tions attributed to him, (i) that the wise man should 
 practise cVoxr;', suspension of judgment, (2) that all 
 external things are aSta<^opa, matters of indifference to 
 him, (3) that he will thus be free from passion and 
 anxiety, and arrive at the condition of complete arapa^ia, 
 imperturbability. Pyrrho left no writings, but his pupil, 
 Timon of Phlius (fl. 2.80 B.C.), was a voluminous writer. 
 We have a few fragments of his 6"////, a satirical poem in 
 which he ridiculed the tenets of other philosophers. 
 When the Academy became sceptical there was no room 
 for an independent Pyrrhonist school, but it revived in 
 tlie person of Aenesidemus when the Academy became 
 identified with an eclectic dogmatism under Antiochus. 
 The sceptical argument was summed up in ten rpoVot, 
 and is given in full in the works of Sextus Empiricus 
 (fl. 200 A.D.). The most important points in it are 
 as follows: (i) the discrepancy of opinions among wise 
 and honest men, (2) the relativity of all knowledge, i.e. the 
 manner in which it varies with the physical and mental 
 conditions of the observer or thinker, (3) the impossibility 
 of proving the first principles on which proof is based, 
 (4) the pditio principii involved in the syllogism, the 
 major premiss assuming the truth of the conclusion. 
 
 We turn back now to trace the fortunes of the Academy, 
 
 THE ACADEMY, 
 
 147 
 
 which may be conveniently divided into three schools, the 
 Old, the Middle or Sceptical, and the Reformed or Eclectic 
 Academy^ To the first belong the names of Speusippus 
 Xenocrates and Polemo, who successively presided over 
 the school between 347 and 270 B.C., as well as those 
 of Heraclides of Pontus, Grantor and Grates. They 
 appear to have modified the Platonic doctrines mainly 
 by the admixture of Pythagorean elements. Grantors 
 writings were used by Gicero for his Consolatio and 
 Tusadan Disputations. The chief expounders of the 
 Middle Academy were its founder Arcesilaus 315 — 241 
 B.C., (characterized in a line borrowed from the Homeric 
 description of the Ghimaera as TrpoaOe UXdrwr, oinOev Uvp- 
 [jiov, fX€(T(jo^ AtoSwpos, implying that by his dialectic 
 quibbling he had changed the Platonism, which he pro- 
 fessed, into a mere Pyrrhonism), Carneades of Gyrene 
 214 — 129 B.C., one of the Athenian ambassadors to Rome 
 in 155 B.C.-, and Clitomachus of Garthage, the literary 
 exponent of the views of his master Garneades, who is 
 said to have never written anything himself. They neg- 
 lected the positive doctrine of Plato, and employed them- 
 selves mainly in a negative polemic against the dogmatism 
 
 ^ Cicero only recognized the Old and the New Academy, the 
 latter corresponding to what is above called the Middle Academy, 
 but including Philo. Antiochus himself claimed to be a true 
 representative of the Old Academy. Later writers made five 
 Academic schools, the second founded by Arcesilaus, the third by 
 Carneades, the fourth by Philo, the fifth by Antiochus. 
 
 ^ Carneades had an extraordinary reputation for acuteness and 
 skill in argument, as is shown by a line of Lucilius (preserved by 
 Lactantius v. 15), in which Neptune speaks of some question as 
 insoluble even to a Carneades, nee si Carncadcn ipsum ad nos Orcu^ 
 remit I at. 
 
 10 —2 
 
148 
 
 rilE ACADEMY, 
 
 of the Stoics, professing to follow the example of Socrates, 
 though they thought that even he had approached too 
 near to dogmatism in saying that he knew that he knew 
 nothing. Probable opinion was the furthest point in the 
 direction of knowledge to which man could attain. 
 
 Cicero, in his Natura Deorum and Acadcmica^ and 
 Sextus Empiricus have preserved to us several specimens 
 of the arguments used by Carneadcs in order to prove 
 the impossibility of the attainment of knowledge in the 
 abstract, as well as to expose the errors and inconsistency 
 of the knowledge professed by the Dogmatic schools of 
 his time. Thus, if there is such a thing as knowledge, it 
 must rest ultimately on the senses; but the senses are 
 constantly deceptive, and we have no means of dis- 
 tinguishing between a true and a false sensation, the 
 difference between objects being ofien so imperceptible 
 that we are liable to mistake one for another. The 
 impotence of reasoning as an instrument for the attain- 
 ment of certain truth is shown by the Sorites and other 
 logical puzzles. Dialectic only tests formal accuracy of 
 procedure, it cannot assure us of the truth of that which 
 we assume as the foundation of our reasoning. Like the 
 polypus which feeds on its own limbs, it can destroy, but 
 never establish proof. The Stoics allege universal con- 
 sent as a proof of the existence of God. But this consent 
 is not proved, and, if it were, the opinion of the ignorant 
 has no weight. The Stoics further maintain that the 
 world exhibits the perfection of reason in its constitution 
 and that Divine Providence directs all things for the good 
 of men. But many things exist for which we can see no 
 reason, many which are distinctly injurious to mankind. 
 Even the possession of reason is a very doubtful advari- 
 
 TIIE ACADEMY. 
 
 149 
 
 tage; and we do not find that the wise and virtuous man 
 is always prosperous. Granting that the world is perfect, 
 why may not this perfection be the result of the un- 
 conscious working of nature? Why are we bound to 
 attribute it to the action of an intelligent Being ? Again 
 it is impossible to form any consistent conception of God. 
 The ideas of personality and infinity are mutually contra- 
 dictory. Even to think of Him as the living God or the 
 good God, is opposed to reason. For animal life is 
 necessarily joined with feeling, and feeling implies 
 consciousness of pleasure and pain, but whatever is 
 capable of pain is liable to destruction by excess of pain. 
 And how can we ascribe virtue to a Being who is 
 supposed to have no weaknesses to conquer, no tempta- 
 tions to resist ; who being all-powerful can have no need 
 of prudence to devise means for attaining his ends, no 
 need of courage to sustain him against danger? It is 
 equally impossible to think of God either as corporeal or 
 incorporeal. If he is the former, he must be either 
 simple or compound : if he is compounded of different 
 elements, he is naturally liable to dissolution ; if he is a 
 pure elementary substance, he must be without life and 
 thought. On the other hand that which is incorporeal can 
 neither feel nor act. In like manner it may be shown that 
 it is impossible to make any assertion whatever about God. 
 But though knowledge and certainty are unattainable, 
 we are not left simply to act at hazard. Probability was 
 the guide of life to Carneades, as to Bp. Butler; and he 
 carefully distinguished degrees of probability. Thus a 
 sensation might be of such a nature as to produce in us 
 belief involuntarily; this he called ^avrauia. TnOavrj, a 
 persuasive presentation. Again, no sensation comes 
 
i 
 
 150 
 
 T//£ ACADEMY. 
 
 singly, and any one sensation is liable to be confirmed or 
 weakened by the connected sensations. We may believe, 
 for instance, that we see the figure of Socrates; and this 
 belief will be confirmed if we think we recognize his 
 voice. If then all the associated sensations agree in 
 confirming our belief, such a belief is called cf>avTa(jLa 
 aVepi'o-Trao-Tos, an undisturbed presentation. The highest 
 degree of probability is when we have further investi- 
 gated the conditions under which the sensation occurred 
 (such as the soundness of the organ, the distance from 
 the object etc.), and find nothing to raise suspicion as to 
 its reality; belief is then called (fiavrama TrepiiD^evfxevr], a 
 thoroughly explored presentation. We have very little in- 
 formation as to the particular doctrines to which Carneades 
 assigned probability. One tradition says that in his old 
 age, he relaxed in his irony, and became more free-spoken \ 
 but his successor Clitomachus professed that he had 
 never been able to ascertain what his real belief was'. 
 
 The Reformed Academy may be regarded as com- 
 mencing with Philo of Larissa, a pupil of Clitomachus 
 and one of Cicero's teachers. In it we see a return 
 to dogmatism combined with an eclectic tendency which 
 showed itself most strongly in Philo's pupil Antiochus, 
 who endeavoured to strengthen the Academy by uniting 
 Stoic and Peripatetic doctrines with the original Platonism. 
 Further details will be given when we come to speak of 
 the influence of the Roman spirit on the development of 
 philosophy. 
 
 We turn now to the two most important developments 
 of post-Aristotelian philosophy, Stoicism and Epicurean- 
 ism. To understand them it is necessary to look for a 
 
 1 See Zeller in. i. p. 531' 
 
 2 Cic. Acad. Ii. 130. 
 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 151 
 
 moment at the changes which had been brought about by 
 the conquests of Alexander. While Greece proper lost 
 its national life, the Greek language and Greek civilization 
 spread throughout the world, and the Greeks in their turn 
 became familiarized with Oriental thought and religion. 
 Thus the two main supports of the authoritative tradition 
 by which practical life had hitherto been regulated, the 
 law of the State and the old religion of Greece, were 
 shaken from their foundations. The need which was 
 most strongly felt by the best minds was to find some 
 substitute for these, some principle of conduct which 
 should enable a man to retain his self-respect under the 
 rule of brute force to which all were subject. It must be 
 something which would enable him to stand alone, to defy 
 the oppressor, to rise superior to circumstances. Such a 
 principle the Stoics boasted to have founds Zeno, 
 the founder of the school, was a native of Citmm in 
 Cyprus. He came to Athens about 320 B.C. and attended 
 the lectures of Crates the Cynic and afterwards of Stilpo 
 the Megarian and of some of the Academics, and began 
 to teach in the arod TroiKlX-q about 308 B.C. He was 
 succeeded by Cleanthes of Assos in Asia Minor about 
 260 B.C. Among his other pupils were Aristo of Chms, 
 Herillus of Carthage, Persaeus, who like his master 
 was a native of Citium, and Aratus of Soli in Cilicia, the 
 author of tAVO astronomical poems translated by Cicero 
 (IV.D II 104— 115). Cleanthes was succeeded by 
 Chrysippus of Soli (b. 280, d. 206), who did so 
 much to develop and systematize the Stoic philosophy 
 that he was called the Second Founder of the 
 
 1 See the interesting treatise on Stoicism by W. W. Capes in the 
 S. P. C. K. series, and £ssay vi of the Introduction to Grant's Ethics. 
 
152 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 153 
 
 schooP. Next came Zeno of Tarsus and Diogenes of 
 Babylon, one of the three ambassadors to Rome in 1 55 b.c. 
 From this time forward Stoicism begins to show a softened 
 and eclectic tendency, as we may see in Panaetius 
 of Rhodes (180 — iii B.C.), and also in his pupil Posi- 
 donius of Apamea in Syria, of whom we shall have 
 more to say hereafter. 
 
 \The end of philosophy with the Stoics was purely 
 practical. Philosophy is identical with virtue. But since 
 virtue consists in bringing the actions into harmony with 
 the general order of the world, it is essential to know 
 what this order is, and thussAve arrive at the famous triple 
 division of philosophy 'm\6^ f/iysics, including cosmology 
 and theology, which explains the nature and laws of the 
 universe ^-^logk^ which ensures us against deception and 
 supplies the method for attaining to true knowledge; 
 >) ethics^ which draws the conclusion for practical life. The 
 Stoics were famed for their logical subtilties, and are 
 often referred to under the name Dialcdici. They in- 
 cluded in Logic both Rhetoric and Grammar, and 
 made great improvements in the theory of the latter 
 subject. The chief point of interest however in their 
 Logic is their theory as to the criterion. They considered 
 the soul to resemble a sheet of blank papcr^ on which 
 impressions (</>av7ao-tat) were made through the senses^ 
 
 ^ Cf. the line ci p.y\ ydp rjv XpvffLinros ovk iv rjv arod. 
 
 3 riut. T/ac. mil. IV. ir. 
 
 3 Cleanthes held that each impression was literally a material 
 impression on the soul, like that of a signet-ring on wax: Chrysippus 
 thought this inconsistent with the infinite variety of impressions 
 which we are continually receiving, and preferred to speak of them 
 as modifications (erepoiwtrets) of the soul. See Sext. Malh. vii. 
 228. 
 
 /J 
 
 The concept i^woia) was produced from the impressions 
 by generalization, which might be either spontaneous and 
 
 unconscious. 
 
 givmg 
 
 rise to common ideas or natural 
 anticipations {koivoX €n/oiaf, c/x^vrot 7rpoX?yi//cis), or it might 
 be conscious and methodical, giving rise to artificial 
 concepts. In entire opposition to Plato they held that 
 the individual object alone had real existence ; the 
 universal, the general term, existed only in the mind as 
 subjective thought. The truth or falsehood of these 
 impressions and conceptions depended on their possession 
 of TO KaTaXrjTTTLKov, the power of carrying conviction. An 
 impression which was not merely assented to, but forced 
 itself irresistibly on the mind, was a KaraX-qTrTLKi^ f^avraaia 
 a perception that has a firm grasp of reality*. The same 
 irresistible evidence attaches to a TrpoX-qxpL^^^ but artificial 
 concepts required to have their truth proved by being 
 connected with one or other of these criteria. The ten 
 Categories of Aristotle were reduced by the Stoics to 
 four, (i) the substratum, to v-roKci/xci/oi/, (2) the essential 
 quality, to ttoioV, (3) the condition, to ttojs f-x^^i (4) the 
 relation, to tt^os ti ttw? ^x®^* 
 
 \The physical theory of the Stoics is a pantheistic 
 materialism. The only real existences are such as can 
 act and be acted upon, and these are bodies, for like can 
 
 ^ Zeno compared the simple impression or sensation (^ajrao-m) 
 to the touching of an object with the outstretched fingers; the 
 mental assent which follows {cv^KaraBtaLi) to a half closure of the 
 hand upon the object ; the distinct apprehension {KaTdXrj^ii) to a 
 tight grasp ; knowledge itself to the grasping of the fist by the other 
 hand, so as to keep it more firmly closed. 
 
 ^ Cicero's renderings of the above technical terms are as follows : 
 (pavTaaia visum, Koival evvoiai communes notiones, ^ik^vtol irpo\r)\pet% 
 insiiae anficipationes^ KQ.T6\r\^i% comprehcnsio, cvyKaTdOecis asscnsio. 
 
154 
 
 STOIC ISM". 
 
 only act on like'. But these bodies are not moved simply 
 by mechanical laws, as Democritus supposed. The whole 
 universe is an embodied spiritual force, of which we may 
 call one part passive, one part active, but all is alike 
 material. The active portion is soul, a fiery ether 
 pervading the whole, but having its principal seat in the 
 heaven which encompasses it on every side; the passive 
 portion consists mainly of the inferior elements, water and 
 earth. These latter proceed from the former and are 
 periodically reabsorbed into it in the world-conflagration. 
 The universe itself, as a perfect living creature, is rightly 
 called God, but the name is more particularly given to the 
 soul of the universe, who is also known by many descrip- 
 tive appellations. Rational or Artistic Fire (irvp voepoV, 
 TTvp Tcxi^tKoV), All-penetrating Air, Spirit, Reason, Nature, 
 Providence, Destiny, Law, Necessity, the Ruling Principle 
 (to iJye/AoviKoV), and, with reference to his creative and 
 ^inforuiifig' power, the Generative Reason (Xoyos airepiia- 
 TiKo's). /The gods of the popular religion represented 
 differelit activities of the one true Deity. Thus Zeus, 
 one God under many names as Cleanthes calls him, is 
 denominated Hera, when we think of him as pervading 
 the air, Poseidon as pervading water, Demeter as per- 
 vading earth: again Demeter is the name we give to 
 Zeus when we think of him as the giver of corn, 
 Dionysus, when we think of him as the giver of wine. 
 
 1 Not only substances, but feelings and attributes were regarded 
 as corporeal. Thus the virtues, and even the seasons of the year, 
 were called animals or bodies. These paradoxical modes of speech 
 were explained by saying, that virtue denoted a certain tension or 
 elasticity [tovos] of the psychical element, ether; that when we speak 
 of summer, we mean air of a certain temperature, &c. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 155 
 
 
 The foolish or immoral stories told by the poets were 
 explained as allegories intended to convey some moral 
 or physical truth. For instance, when Hera is repre- 
 sented as suspended by a gold chain from heaven with 
 weights round her feet cV aWepi koI v€<t>€)<.rj(TLv, this is 
 interpreted to mean tjbe order of nature binding the four 
 elements together \ IjHie human soul is an emanation 
 from Deity, and is often spoken of as the God within 
 us^ Although it outlives the body, it will only retain 
 its individual existence till the next conflagration, and 
 that only in the case of the wise. The stars being made 
 of pure fire are divine, 
 
 In all this we see the influence of Heraclitus, who 
 was much quoted by the Stoics; but in their distinction 
 between the active and passive elements of the universe 
 they probably had in mind the Aristotelian distinction 
 between Form and Matter, only substituting for the 
 mysterious attraction exercised on Matter by the tran- 
 scendent First Form of Aristotle, the quickening influence 
 of an ever-active all-pervading Spirit. They agreed with 
 Aristotle also in holding the unity, finiteness and sphe- 
 ricity of the world, but, unlike him, considered that 
 there was an unlimited void beyond it. That which was 
 peculiarly Stoical was the strong moral colouring which 
 they gave to their materialistic system. The all-pervading 
 fire was at the same time the all-seeing Providence, who 
 creates and governs all things for the best ends, and 
 makes each several existence, each several fact, conspire 
 together for the good of the whole. (It is the privilege of 
 
 ^ Heracl. Al/e^. Horn. p. 463 Gale. 
 
 2 See Seneca Epp. 31 and 41, and other passages quoted in 
 Zeller III. i. p. 319'^ 
 
 • ??:-^Tm^;^^s^r--' 
 
1 
 4 
 
 ^^\ 
 
 i;;6 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 man to be able knowingly and willingly to act as a 
 rational part of the rational whole, instead of yielding 
 himself up to irrational and selfish impulse: but however 
 he acts, he must perforce carry out the divine purpose, as 
 Cleanthcs says in the noble lines : "^ 
 
 ayov 5^ fx u ZeiJ, Kal au y -fj UeTrpw/xiuT), 
 oiroi TToO' vjxiv elfjLL diaTeTayfx^vo^' 
 cos €\l/ofiai 7 aoKuos' ijv d^ jxtj OiXoj, 
 KaKos yeuoixevos, ovdev tjttov t\poixai.. 
 
 From this it follows that the suuunum bonum is to live 
 according to nature, both universal nature, i.e. the reason 
 embodied in the universe, and the particular nature \ not 
 only of man in general, but of the individual concerned ; 
 or, to express the same principle in other words, each 
 man is to act in accordance with his own particular 
 nature in so far as that is in harmony with universal 
 nature : and it is through virtue or wisdom that we are 
 enabled to do this; wisdom being not only speculative^ 
 judging what is in accordance with nature or the divine 
 law, hvX practical, strongly willing what is thus determined 
 to be right. 
 
 The stages of rational development in the individual 
 were thus described. The first impulse in every animal 
 is to its own self-preservation^. This appetite mani- 
 fests itself in little children before any pleasure or 
 pain is felt. We begin by loving our own vitality; 
 and we come, by association, to love what promotes 
 our vitality; we hate destruction or disablement, 
 
 * Cf. Diog. L. VII. 88 rAos yiyverai to aKoXovOus rr} <f)v<r€L ^r}v, 
 oirep iarl Kara re ttjv avTov Kal /card t^j/ tcDj/ 6\o}v, and Cic. De Off. 
 I. 107. 
 
 2 This was called the prima conciliatlo uahtrae, 7) TrputTtj oZ/cei'c'o-tj, 
 see Cic. Fiji, hi 16 with Madvig's note. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 157 
 
 and we come to hate whatever produces that effect. 
 But these prima naturae^ are not good in themselves, 
 and there is nothing virtuous in the effort to attain them. 
 It is only as the dawning reason of the youth becomes 
 conscious of a wider nature of which his own nature is a 
 part, and of a higher Reason revealing itself in the order 
 and harmony of nature and of human society, that the 
 true Good becomes possible for him, not in the attainment 
 of those primary ends, but in the right choice of the 
 means by which to attain them. And the right choice is 
 one which is always in accordance with reason and with 
 nature. If he takes the right course, whether he attains 
 those lower ends or not, he has attained the highest end 
 of man, the true Bonum or Iloncsttim. Just as the 
 archer's excellence is shown in aiming rightly, and there 
 is no independent value in the mere act of hitting the 
 target ; so tliere is no independent value in those prima 
 naturae ; the acting in accordance with nature is all 
 in alP. One who has thus learnt to live in accordance 
 with nature is axra^K-q^, in need of nothing. He alone 
 is free, for he has all he wishes : his will is one with the 
 universal Will. External good, external evil are matters 
 of indifference (dStdcfiopa): intrinsically and in themselves 
 they are neither bad nor good, though they may become 
 such according to the manner in which they are used. 
 Nothing can be called really good which is not always 
 and under all circumstances good. What are commonly 
 regarded as goods, such as wealth, station, &c., only 
 provide the field in which virtue is to exercise itself; 
 
 * See on the prima naturae, irpura Kara <pv(nVf ^ladvig's De 
 Finibus, Exc. 4. 
 
 2 Grote's Aristotle it. p. 444, R. and P. § 420. 
 
158 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 they are not essential to its exercise, as the Peripatetics 
 thought. If ivory and gold are wanting, the art of 
 Phidias will show itself in baser materials : so the wise 
 man will show his mastery in the art of life, alike in 
 poverty as in wealth, in adversity as in prosperity. Nay, 
 the less favourable his circumstances are, the greater is 
 the call on the resources of his art, and the more glorious 
 his success if he succeeds in acting the virtuous part. 
 A good man struggling with adversity is a spectacle 
 worthy of God'. Until we have learnt the lesson that 
 our happiness can neither be increased nor diminished by 
 the presence or absence of anytliing outside of ourselves, 
 anything which is not in our own power, -we can never 
 attain to that inner calm, which is the essence of true 
 happiness. 
 
 This distinction between things in our power ^ and 
 things not in our power, is one on which the Stoics 
 laid great stress. By the former they meant things which 
 we could do or acquire if we willed, such as our opinions, 
 our affections, desires and aversions ; by the latter they 
 meant things which we could not do or acquire if we 
 willed, such as natural constitution of body, wealth, 
 honour, rank, &c., but in regard to these last our judg- 
 ment of them is in our own power, we can train ourselves 
 to think of them as unimportant. Thus it is in our power 
 to discipline the mind in the way of controlling or 
 suppressing some emotions, generating and encouraging 
 others. The grand aim of the Stoical system was to 
 strengthen the governing reason and to enthrone it as a 
 
 ^ Seneca Epist, Lxxxv, Be proz'idcntia, c. 2. 
 2 TO. i<p' rjfilv, the sphere of Trpoalpccris according to Aristotle E^A, 
 III 4. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 159 
 
 fixed habit and character, which would control by 
 counter-suggestions the impulse arising at each special 
 moment, particularly all disturbing terrors or allurements, 
 by the reflection that the objects which appear to be 
 desirable, or the contrary, are not really such, but are 
 only made to appear so by false and curable associations. 
 Nothing can really harm us unless we choose to make it 
 do so by allowing it to conquer our reason and will'. 
 Pleasure is a natural concomitant (iTnyivvy/jLo) of 
 activity, but is not a natural end : not even if we count as 
 pleasure that high delight (xapd as opposed to -qSovrj), 
 which belongs to virtuous activity, for pleasure regarded 
 in itself has a tendency to lead man away from the true 
 end, viz. acting not for self, but for the whole. On this 
 ground Chrysippus condemned Plato and Aristotle for 
 preferring the contemplative to the practical life, alleging 
 that the former was merely a higher kind of self-indulgence. 
 Man is born for society, he is a member of the great 
 body*^ which includes all rational creatures within it : if he 
 forgets his relation to other men, and only cares to 
 gratify his intellectual tastes, he abnegates his proper 
 place in the world. The feeling of common membership 
 in one body binds each not to justice only but to bene- 
 ficence and to mutual help^: above all it constitutes the 
 firmest bond of friendship between those who act up to 
 that membership, so that every wise man is dear to all 
 who are wise, even though he may be personally unknown 
 to them*. 
 
 ^ See Grote's Ai-istotle^ 11. p. 446. 
 
 2 Seneca Ep. xcv. 52 membra sumus corporis ma^ni. Natura 
 nos cognatos edidit\ Cic. (9^ in. 32. 
 
 ^ Cic. Off. I. 20. 4 cic. N. D. I. i2r. 
 
I(l 
 
 1 60 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 But while on the one hand the consciousness 
 of our being thus bound up with others, as parts of a 
 common whole, supplies a motive for action and forbids 
 all exclusive self-regard, as far as feeling is concerned ; 
 on the other hand the consciousness that the indi- 
 vidual reason (to Xoyto-riKOK, ro y'/ye/jLovLKoi') in each man 
 is a portion of the Universal Reason, a revelation to him 
 personally of the Divine Will\ — this preserves intact 
 the individuality of each, and enables and requires him to 
 act and think for himself, and to stand alone, regardless of 
 the opinions and wishes of the world outside. It is this 
 sense of independence towards man and of responsibility 
 towards God which especially distinguishes the Stoic 
 morality from that which preceded it. The Stoics may be 
 said to have introduced into philosophical ethics the con- 
 ception of Duty, involving obligation^, as distinguished 
 from that of Good, regarded as the desirable or the useful 
 or the beautiful, and of Virtue as the way to this. Not that 
 Duty is with them mere obedience to an external law ; 
 
 ^ See Chrysippus in Diogenes VIT. 88, ' We call by the name of 
 Zeus the Right Reason which pervades the universe ; ' Zeno in Cic. 
 JV. D. I. 36 ' God is the divine law of nature, commanding what 
 is right, forbidding what is wrong,' Cic. Ic'^. II. 10, and I. 18, 
 'Law is first the mind and reason of Jupiter, and then reason 
 in the mind of man;* Leg. i. 33, *To whom nature has given 
 reason, to them she has given law;' Chrysippus in Plut. Comm. 
 Not. p. 1076 *not even the smallest particle can exist otherwise than 
 as God wills' (aWws ^x^"' ^^^ rj Kara t-^v tov Aios ^ovXyjaiv) i also 
 passages from Seneca referred to in a previous note. 
 
 2 Compare the Stoic definition of right and wrong as that which 
 is commanded or forbidden by law, to KaropOoj/Jia pofxov irpoffxayiia 
 elvai, TO 5' a/xapTTjiJia vofiov aTray6p€v/x,a Plut. Sfo. Rep. II. i, and other 
 passages quoted by Zeller p. 245. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 161 
 
 it is also the following of the highest natural impulse 
 (opfxrjy. But impulse by itself is no trustworthy guide. 
 On the contrary it is one chief work of reason in man to 
 subdue and eradicate his irrational impulses. These 
 passions {TtdO-q), as they are called, originate in a perver- 
 sion of the reason itself. The four principal are pleasure 
 and pain, which may be defined as false beliefs of present 
 good or evil ; hope and fear, which are similar beliefs in 
 reference to the future. No man can be called virtuous 
 who has not got rid of all such beliefs and arrived at the 
 state of pure d-n-dOeLa. We may distinguish different 
 virtues in thought, as the Stoics themselves summed up 
 their teaching on this subject under the four Cardinal 
 Virtues, which represent four principal aspects of the one 
 Honestum or Decorum; but in fact no virtue can exist apart 
 from the rest". He who has a right judgment and right 
 intention is perfectly virtuous, he who is without right 
 judgment and intention is perfectly vicious. There is no 
 mean. The wise man is perfectly happy, the fool perfectly 
 miserable : all the actions of the former are wise and good ; 
 all the actions of the latter foolish and bad. There may 
 be a progress towards wisdom, but, until the actual mo- 
 ment of conversion, even those who are advancing (ot 
 TrpoKOTTTovTcs) iiiust Still bc classcd among the fools ^ 
 Thus in the original Stoicism we have the strange 
 
 ^ See Zeller iii. r, p. 2?3^ 
 
 - So Aristotle had said that all other virtue is involved in ^pSvrjcns. 
 Eth. VI. 13, VII. 1. 
 
 ^ See Plut. Mor. p. 1058. ' Among the Stoics you go to bed 
 stupid and ignorant and unjust and intemperate, a pauper and a 
 slave ; you wake up in a itw hours a king, or rather a God, rich and 
 ■wise and temperate and just.' 
 
 M. P. I I 
 
l62 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 union of a highly ideal ethics with a materialistic philo- 
 sophy. But it was impossible to maintain this un- 
 compromising idealism in practice. The later Stoics 
 found themselves compelled to admit that, apart from 
 virtue and vice, the absolute Good and Evil, there were 
 preferences to be made among things indifferent. Some 
 of these, such as bodily health, mental endowments, even 
 wealth and position, were allowed to have comparative 
 value, and, as such, were called irpo-qyixeva, producta 
 or pracposita, 'preferable,' while their opposites were 
 termed JTroTTpor^y/xeW, rejcda, 'undesirable'; and the name 
 a8m>opa was now limited to such things as were entirely 
 neutral and could not influence choice. In like manner 
 it was allowed that, besides the perfectly virtuous actions 
 of the wise man {Ko.TopQ^^ix.o.Ta, pcrfccta officio), there was 
 a subordinate class of appropriate actions {Ka^Kovia, 
 media officia), which might be performed by one who had 
 not attained to perfection, or which might have reference 
 to some preferable end other than the absolute good. 
 Again, since they were compelled to allow that their 
 perfectly wise man, whom they vaunted to be equal to 
 Zeus, had never existed, they found it necessary to 
 allow a positive value to TrpoKOTrr/, progress towards 
 wisdom, and to self-control as contrasted with absolute 
 
 apathy. 
 
 The Stoics paid great attention to the subject of Natural 
 Theology and pleased themselves with discovering evi- 
 dence, in the external universe, of a creative intelligence 
 and a providential care for man. Cicero gives the 
 Stoical argument on this head in the Second Book of his 
 Natura Deorum. Holding, as they did, the optimist 
 theory of the perfection of the universe, they were bound 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 i6 
 
 to reconcile this with the apparent existence of moral 
 and physical evil. They endeavoured to do so by the 
 following reasoning. AVhat we call evil is only imperfec- 
 tion ; and in a system compounded of parts, the imper- 
 fection of the parts taken separately is essential to the 
 perfection of the whole. What we call physical evil is a 
 necessary result of natural causes, and is in itself a matter 
 of indifference: it only becomes evil to the man who uses 
 it wrongly. ]\Iany things which are commonly regarded 
 as evil are really beneficial ; as an instance, Chrysippus 
 cited the prevention of over-population by means of war'. 
 Moral evil, which arises like disease from human weak- 
 ness, is the necessary foil and condition of virtue. How 
 could prudence and courage display themselves, if there 
 v.ere no choice to be made between good and evil ; if 
 there were no injustice and fraud to guard against and 
 endure? In the end however all evil will be converted 
 into good. If we sometimes see virtue unrewarded, this 
 is because the government of the world proceeds by 
 general laws, which, though best for the whole, necessarily 
 involve the possibility of what seems to be individual 
 hardship ^ But this is, after all, only appearance, for good 
 and evil lie not in feeling, but in action. He who acts 
 fittingly is happy, and it is always in our own power to 
 act fittingly to the circumstances in which we are placed. 
 If in no other way, it is at least in our power to quit a 
 world in which we are hindered from action. God has 
 placed in our hands, as the last safeguard of our freedom, 
 
 ^ Compare Pint. Stoic. Rep. 32, and other passages quoted by 
 Zcller III. I. p. 174''. 
 
 - The same argument is used by Bp. Butler in the Analog Pt. l. 
 ch. 7. 
 
 I I — 2 
 
i 
 
 164 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 this liighest privilege of self-removal (cuAoyos efaywyr;), 
 not to be used at random, but to save another's life, or 
 to escape from being forced into anything degrading, or 
 at the lowest to cut short unprofitable years. 
 
 One other characteristic doctrine of the Stoics may be 
 mentioned here. It will have been noticed that none of 
 tlie above-named representatives of the school were of 
 pure Greek birth, and that most were only connected 
 with Greece by the Macedonian conquests. It was 
 easy to rise from this fact to the higher doctrine 
 which flowed naturally from their first principle, the 
 doctrine namely that all men were members of one 
 State, that the world is the common City of Gods 
 and men, that all men are brethren as having the 
 same Divine Father. Sir A. Grant has further called 
 attention to the fact that Zeno himself and some of his 
 most distinguished followers belonged to Semitic towns 
 or colonies; and he suggests that the characteristic 
 features of Stoicism, its stern morality, its deep religious 
 earnestness, may perhaps be traced to this connexion. 
 
 There is indeed a very striking resemblance, mixed 
 with no less striking contrasts, not only between 
 particular sayings of individual Stoics, especially Seneca\ 
 and the language of the New Testament, but between 
 Stoicism and Christianity in regard to their general view 
 of the facts of the physical and moral universe. The 
 Stoic pantheism, i.e. the doctrine of the interpenetration 
 and transfusion of all nature by a Divine Spirit, has its 
 Christian counterpart in St Paul's words, 'in Him we live 
 
 1 Cf. the appendix on St Paul and Seneca in Bp. Lighlfoot's edition 
 of the Epistle to the Philippians. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 i<^5 
 
 and move and have our being,' 'of Him, through Him 
 and to Him are all things V ^md still more markedly in the 
 language of the great Christian poet of this century: 
 
 "And I have felt 
 A presence which disturbs me with the joy 
 Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
 Of something far more deeply interfused, 
 Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
 And the round ocean and the living air, 
 And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
 A motion and a spirit, that impels 
 All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
 And rolls through all things-." 
 
 This indwelling Spirit was known to the Stoics, as to the 
 Christians, under the name of the Logos ^ He flishions 
 the universe according to His own will and upholds it 
 and governs it by His wisdom ; but His principal seat is 
 in the highest heaven and in the heart of man. He is 
 the Father of lights and the Father of s])irits, the source 
 of all spiritual and rational life, an ever-present inward 
 witness, monitor, and guide to those who submit them- 
 selves to His guidance. He orders all things for our 
 good and for the good of all this universe. To follow 
 and to imitate Him is the perfection and happiness of 
 man. Where, we might ask, is the inconsistency between 
 this and Christian theology? Bp. Lightfoot* answers 
 the question as follows : 'The basis of Stoic theology is 
 gross materialism,... the supreme God of the Stoics had 
 no existence distinct from external nature... the different 
 
 '^ Acts XVII. ^S, Rom. xi. 36. 
 
 - Wordsworth Tintcrn Abbey. 
 
 ^ See Heinze, Die Lchre voin Logos cli. 3. 
 
 * Philippians p. 294 foil. 
 
i66 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 elements of the universe, such as the planetary bodies, 
 were inferior Gods, members of the Universal Being.' 
 It is however only fiiir to remember that the views of 
 many of the early Christians were far from clear on these 
 points, and that individual Stoics differed much in the 
 explanations they gave of the formulas of their system. 
 TertuUian was as thorough-going a materialist as any Stoic 
 or Epicurean'; and Origen thought it necessary to argue 
 against those who interpreted the words 'Our God is a 
 consuming fire,' 'God is a spirit,' (7n'€v/xa = breath), as 
 implying some kind of corporeity". I confess it seems to 
 me that, while metaphysically it is a solecism to talk of 
 'thinking matter,' yet practically, if the supposition is 
 once admitted that thought itself can be somehow ma- 
 terial, it makes little difference whether we conceive the 
 one eternal Being, who constitutes the universe by his 
 thought, to be absolutely incorporeal and immaterial, or 
 to be, as the Stoics held, a pure etherial substance, 
 generating all existence out of itself and taking it back 
 into itself. Probably the incongruous compound 'thinking 
 matter' resolved itself, more or less consciously, into one 
 or other element according to the idiosyncrasy of the 
 individual philosopher, God being regarded in the one 
 case as self-determining Reason residing in its fiery 
 vehicle and impelling baser matter through that instrumen- 
 tality ; in the other as the material universe developing 
 itself according to necessary law. In either case, the 
 
 ^ Compare D& Cam. Christi c. il. Omne quod esty corpus est 
 sui generis : nihil est incorporale, nisi quod non est (quoted with 
 apparent agreement by the Lutheran Bp. Martensen Christian 
 Ethics, p. 71 tr.). 
 
 - De priiicipiis I. 1. 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 167 
 
 Stoic might say, no less than the Christian, looking 
 forward to the cyclical conflagration, and contrasting 
 nature with the God of nature, the mundiis with the 
 anima mimdi, the passive with the active elements of the 
 universe, 'they (i.e. all that we see in the wodd around) 
 shall perish, but thou remainest ; yea, all of them shall 
 wax old as doth a garment; as a vesture shalt thou 
 change them and they shall be changed ; but thou art the 
 same and thy years shall have no end'.' 
 
 The contrast between the second view mentioned 
 above, which gives the name of God to the material 
 universe developing itself according to necessary law, and 
 the Christian view, has been well expressed by St Augus- 
 tine in a splendid passage of his Confessions. 'Seeking 
 to find an answer to the question "What is God," I 
 asked', he says, 'the earth, the sea, the air, the heaven, 
 the sun, the moon and the stars : all gave the same answer 
 "we are not God, but we are made by Him." Interrogavi 
 miindi inolcm de Deo meo, d respondit mihi : non ego sum, 
 sed ipse mefccif^ I doubt however whether such a frank 
 identification of the Deity with external nature as that sup- 
 posed, is to be found in any genuine Stoic writer, and 
 whether it is not in fact rather the limit (to speak mathe- 
 malically) of Stoic materialism, than a positive doctrine 
 taught in their schools. The world, like every other system, 
 must have its rJye/xoi/iKov, its guiding principle ; and, as the 
 soul which guides and governs the body, though material, 
 is still distinct from the body ; so God, the guide and ruler 
 of the world, is distinct from the world, though that too 
 may be called divine or even God, in virtue of the 
 divine principle pervading it. When we are told that 
 
 1 Psalm 102. 26. 
 
 ^> A • 
 
i68 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 Necessity is one of the Stoic names for God, this does 
 not mean that God is Himself subject to a Necessity sup- 
 posed higher than Himself, but that His own Reason 
 constitutes the universal law which He Himself and all 
 things obeyV^ Some Stoics, such as Pioethus, even denied 
 the animality of the universe, and said that it was guided 
 by the Deity, as the car by the charioteer or the ship by 
 the pilot ; and it would be hard to say that the hymn of 
 Cleanthes is addressed to an impersonal God. On the 
 other hand, it must be granted that, though we never find 
 a Stoic going so far as to say, with Strauss, that the 
 universal Reason only becomes self-conscious in man, we 
 do find Chrysippus asserting the equality of reason in 
 man and reason in God, and speaking of the wise man 
 as the equal of Zeus, no less useful to Zeus than Zeus to 
 him, both being alike divine". 
 
 Still more marked is the opposition between the Chris- 
 tian and the Stoic idea of the character of God. To the 
 Stoic He is perfect reason and justice, to the Christian 
 He is preeminently the God of love. So, while the 
 Logos represents both to Stoic and to Christian the 
 rational element in the universe, the light that lighteth 
 every man, the latter regards Him, first, as existing with 
 the Father before all worlds, and secondly, as made 
 
 ^ The Stoics were the first to discuss with any fulness the difficul- 
 ties connected with the doctrine of Necessity, see Ileinze /. c. 
 
 PP- i.=^3— 172- 
 
 2 Compare Cic. N. D. 11. 154, * The life of the wise man is in no 
 respect inferior to that of the Gods except in duration,' and other 
 passages cited by Zeller, p. 252^. Yet, objectionable as is the tone 
 of these passages, they need not be regarded as asserting more than 
 the doctrine of a Divine presence in the heart of man, and of the 
 sameness of the Divine nature under all circumstances. 
 
 STOICISM. i(5() 
 
 man in the person of Jesus Christ, and so revealing the 
 truly Divine under the perfectly human. 
 
 If we turn now to man and compare the teaching of the 
 two systems in reference to the ideal of man, his duty and 
 his happiness, \ve find again great apparent agreement. 
 There is the same uncompromising tone in both; the one 
 thing needful is a righteous will; Stoicism is no less em- 
 phatic than Christianity in asserting that the gain of the 
 whole world can never counterbalance the loss of the soul. 
 Both demand from their followers the practice of sterri 
 self-denial, they call upon them to make the will of Gocl 
 their rule of life', and to shine as lights in the midst of 
 prevailing darkness. Both use the same language in 
 reference to the corruption of the unregenerate man. If 
 we read in the Bible ' the whole world lieth in wicked- 
 ness,' 'there is none that doeth good, no, not one;' we 
 find Cleanthes in like manner saying that, though man is 
 the highest being on earth, it is plain there must be 
 somewhere a higher and more perfect being, for 'man 
 walks in wickedness all his life through, or at least for 
 the greater part of ir, only attaining to virtue in late old- 
 age"';' and Seneca still more strongly Sve are all thought- 
 less and foolish, all ambitious and complaining, in a 
 word, we are all wicked;' 'we have all sinned, some 
 more, some less grievously, some in malice, some in 
 haste, some led away by others. Even if there be one 
 who has so cleansed his heart that nothing can hence- 
 forth agitate or deceive it, still it was through sin that he 
 finally arrived at innocence;' also Cicero, 'Even an 
 
 ^ Hence the Stoics held that every wrong action was an act of 
 impiety, ttov a.iia^Tr]iJ.o. daefSrjfxa, Stob. Ed. ll. p. 216. 
 2 Sext. Math. ix. 90. 
 
J 
 
 170 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 Aristldes was not perfect in justice, nor a Scipio In 
 courage, nor a Laclius in wisdom ; all have fallen short 
 of the standard of the sage\' On the other hand 
 the excellency of the ideal life is described by both 
 in equally glowing terms. 'J'he Wise Man of the 
 Stoics is the only freeman, he alone is self-sufficient, 
 he possesses all things, he is the true king and the true 
 priest : whatever he does, though it be no more than the 
 putting forth of a finger, is done in accordance with per- 
 fect virtue and the highest reason: there is no mean 
 between virtue and vice; he who is guilty of one vice is 
 guilty of all, and he who can act rightly in one point must 
 act rightly in all; it is impossible for him to sin, as it is 
 impossible for him to lose his firm conviction that the 
 only evil is vice, the only good virtue^; virtue is the ground 
 of all his preferences ; what is virtuous he loves however 
 far removed from him, what is vicious he hates however 
 closely connected^: he knows no ties but those of virtue. 
 In like manner the Christian holds that he whom the truth 
 has made free is the only freeman, that we are made 
 kings and priests unto God, that all things are ours; and 
 St Paul speaks of himself and the other Apostles *as 
 sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing; as beggars, yet making 
 many rich ; as having nothing, but yet possessing all 
 
 ^ Seneca De Ira, in. 26, De Clemcntia, I. 6, Boicf. iv. 27, Cic. 
 Off. in. 16, cited among other passages by Zeller, p. 253, foil. 
 
 2 The question of Final Perseverance, so much debated among 
 Christians afterwards, was not unknown to the Stoics ; Cleanthes 
 with the Cynics maintaining it, Chrysippus on the other hand argu- 
 ing that it was possible for the Wise Man to fall away and become a 
 reprobate ; see Zeller, p. 271, 
 
 3 Diog. L. VII. 33. 
 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 171 
 
 things'. He tells his converts that, whether they eat or 
 drink or whatever they do, they may do all to the glory 
 of God; and St John asserts boldly that 'whatsoever is 
 born of God cannot commit sin,' of which we have the 
 converse asrain in St Paul's 'whatever is not of faith is 
 sin,' and in St James's 'whosoever shall keep the whole 
 law and yet offend in one point is guilty of all.' Again the 
 weakness of earthly ties, as contrasted with that which 
 unites men to Christ and to each other, as members of 
 Christ's body, appears in the constant allusion to brotherly 
 love in the Epistles, as well as in the words of Christ 
 himself 'Whosoever shall do the will of God, the same is 
 my brother and my sister and mother,' and still more 
 strongly in the warning 'if any man come to me and hate 
 not father and mother... yea, and his own life also, he 
 cannot be my disciple.' 
 
 Yet on closer examination we find a great gulf 
 concealed under this apparent agreement. The Chris- 
 tian, while he claims all these high prerogatives, 
 owns that none of them are his by his own right ; in 
 himself he is poor and blind and naked; all the good 
 that is in him flows to him from Christ, through whom 
 he is made a partaker in the divine nature, and with whom 
 he is connected as the branch with the vine, as the hand 
 
 ^ Compare Plutarch's paradoxical account of the Stoic Wise Man 
 (Mor. p. 1057) ^^"i^h St Paul's description of himself in 2 Cor. vi. 
 ^ — 10. 6 ^t(j3lk<2v ao(p6s iyK\€i6fxevos ov KwXt'erat, Kai KaTaKpr]/xvi' 
 ^ofJLevos ovK ayaytca^eTai, Kal (rTpe^dXoiVcos ov ^aaavi^erai, Kal irrjpov' 
 fievos ov /SXdTrrerat, Kal iriwTWV ev t<^ waXaieLV arjTTTjTos icrriv, Kal 
 Trepcreixtfo'/xeJ'os air oXiopKrjros, Kal vuXovfJieuos vtto tQiv irokt^loiv 
 oi/aXwTos, and just above, d(po^os 5^ fiivei Kal aXviros Kal arjTTTjros Kai 
 d/^taoTos, T IT pojo-Ko fievos, dX7a;j', ffTpe^XovfievoSt iv KaraaKatpals irarpl' 
 bos, iv iradecn tolovtols. 
 
172 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 with the body. Once alone has the ideal life been fully 
 revealed on earth, in the man Christ Jesus; but each 
 Christian is encouraged to strive after it as that to whicli 
 he is called, and to which he may continually approximate 
 in proportion as he yields himself to the sanctifying 
 influence of Christ's Spirit within him. 
 
 On the other hand, while some of the Stoics, as 
 we have seen, claimed for their wise man a moral 
 equality with God ; most of them confessed that they 
 were unable to point to any actual example of the 
 ideal life ; or, if some thought that they saw it exemplified 
 in a Hercules, a Socrates or a Diogenes, they never 
 imagined that virtue was attainable for themselves only 
 through the virtue of one of these. The victory of 
 Socrates might be an encouragement to another to 
 struggle against weakness after his example, but it con- 
 tained no ground or assurance of victory, as that of 
 Christ does to the Christian. There is no personal feeling 
 of loyalty or devotion to Socrates as to an ever-present, 
 all-powerful Saviour and friend. Again, while Christian 
 and Stoic both agree in regarding pleasure in itself as 
 utterly worthless in comparison with virtue and the calm 
 of mind which accompanies self-mastery ; Stoic apathy is, 
 in the first place, a very poor and colourless substitute for 
 the Christian * peace that passeth all understanding,' 'the 
 joy unspeakable and full of glory;' in the next place, it is 
 itself un-Christian, since the Gospel stimulates to the 
 utmost the unselfish affections which Stoicism represses, 
 and makes virtue consist at least as much in warmth and 
 energy of feeling as in rational self-control ; thirdly, 
 though the mere life of pleasure, the living for pleasure, 
 is everywhere condemned in the New Testament, yet 
 
 STOICISM 
 
 173 
 
 asceticism, as such, is reprobated in the Epistle to 
 Timothy, as a doctrine of devils, and pleasure is recog- 
 nized as a good gift of God in the words 'every creature 
 of God is good, and nothing to be refused if it be received 
 with thanksgiving.' So too with regard to its opposite, 
 though there may be occasions on which the Christian 
 will rejoice in tribulation, yet he is not bound to pretend, 
 like the Stoic, that pain is not in itself an evil : on the 
 contrary, the great Pattern of Christians, as He had always 
 the tenderest sympathy for the sorrow of others, so in his 
 own case He combined the utmost sensitiveness to pain 
 with the unshaken resolution to do and to bear His 
 Father's will. Lastly, the Christian belief in the immor- 
 tality of each individual man, the belief that virtue, 
 inchoate here, will be finally perfected hereafter, and 
 have full scope for its exercise, that the ideals which 
 nature even now suggests will there be more than 
 realized, — this sheds over life a warm and genial ray, in 
 contrast to the grim austerity of the Porch, and supplies 
 a solid basis for that which with them was scarcely more 
 than a romantic and irrational optimism'. Christianity 
 
 ' The contrast between the Christian conception of an uninter- 
 rupted progress continued throughout eternity, and the Cyclical 
 Regeneration by which the Stoics imagined that, after the general 
 conflagration, all things would be reproduced in the same order, so 
 that each Great Year should be an exact copy of its predecessors, is 
 well pointed out in Dean Mansel's posthumous lectures on Gnosticism^ 
 p. 4, and illustrated by the beautiful chorus from Shelley's Hellas : 
 The world's great age begins anew, 
 
 The golden years return ; 
 The earth doth like a snake renew 
 
 Her winter weeds outworn ; 
 Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam 
 Like wrecks of a dissolving dream. 
 
174 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 may in fact be regarded as the fulfilment of the dreams 
 of Stoicism, as St Paul seems to suggest when he took a 
 line of Cleanthes for his text in preaching at the Areo- 
 pagus. The noblest things in Stoicism are the analogues 
 to the three Christian Graces, the faith which led 
 them to believe that all things were ordered by a good 
 and wise Governor, the hope that made them look 
 forward to the more perfect revelation of the City of God 
 after death, the love which taught them that they were 
 made for the world and not for themselves, that all 
 mankind were one body. 'The poet sings of beloved 
 Athens, and shall not we sing of thee, O beloved City 
 of Zeus^' — do we not seem to hear in these words 
 of Marcus Aurelius the tuning of the harp of Zion by the 
 waters of Babylon ? 
 
 A brighter Hellas rears its mountains 
 
 From waves serener far; 
 A new Peneus rolls its fountains 
 
 Against the morning star. 
 Where (Here?) fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep 
 Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. 
 
 A loftier Ar^o cleaves the main, 
 
 Fraught with a later prize; 
 Another Orpheus sings again, 
 
 And loves, and weeps, and dies. 
 A new Ulysses leaves once more 
 Calypso for his native shore. 
 **«■** 
 O cease ! must hate and death return ? 
 
 Cease I must men kill and die? 
 Cease ! drain not to its dregs the uv:i 
 
 Of bitter prophecy. 
 The world is weary of the past, 
 O might it die, or rest at last ! 
 See further Zeller, p. 154, foil. 
 
 ^ Ant on. IV. 23. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 ^IS 
 
 But if Stoicism is admirable, as promise of better 
 things to come, what are we to say of it when it shows 
 itself as the residuum of a dying faith ? We may at least 
 find it easier to understand the attraction which it had for 
 the Thraseas and Arrias of the Empire, when we find 
 pure Stoicism preached as the Gospel for our own day in 
 such words as those of Carlyle. 'This foir universe, were 
 it in the meanest province thereof, is in very deed the 
 star-domed City of God: through every star, through 
 every grass-blade, and most through every Living Soul 
 the glory of a present God still beams'.' 'The situation 
 which has not its Duty, its Ideal, was never yet occupied 
 by man. Yes, here, in this poor, miserable, hampered, 
 despicable Actual, wherein thou even now standest, here 
 or nowhere is thy Ideal: work it out therefrom, and 
 working, believe, live, be free. Fool! the Ideal is in 
 thyself, the impediment too is in thyself: thy condition 
 is but the stuff thou art to shape that same Ideal out of: 
 what matters whether such stuff is of this sort or that, so 
 the Form thou give it be heroic, be poetic?' 'Does not 
 the whole wretchedness of man's ways in these genera- 
 tions shadow itself for us in that unspeakable Life- 
 philosophy of his: the pretension to be what he calls 
 happy?...\Ve construct our theory of Human Duties not 
 on any Greatest-Nobleness Principle, but on a Greatest- 
 Happiness Principle... But a life of ease is not for any man 
 nor for any god'.' Again, what else is the 'New Faith' 
 
 1 Sartor Resartus, Bk. in. ch. 8. 
 
 2 Sartor Kcsartits, Bk. 11. ch. 9. 
 
 3 Fast and Present, Bk. ill. ch. 4. Compare with the last clause 
 the continual reference in Epictetus to the Labours of Hercules, as 
 giving a pattern of the life which all men should lead ; e.g. Diss. III. 
 
176 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 STOICISM. 
 
 177 
 
 put forward by Strauss than a revival of the least 
 Christian side of Stoicism together with even an ex- 
 aggeration of its old unrealities? The nature of this 
 Neo-Stoicism^ will be sufficiently apparent from the 
 following passage. 'In regard to the Cosmos we 
 know ourselves as part of a part; our might as naught 
 in comparison to the almighiiness of Nature; our 
 thought only capable of slowly and laboriously com- 
 prehending the least part of that which the universe 
 offers to our contemplation as the object of knowledge... 
 As we feel ourselves absolutely dependent on this world, 
 as we can only deduce our existence and the adjustment 
 of our nature from it, we are compelled to conceive of it 
 as the primary source of all that is reasonable and good 
 in ourselves as well as in it... That on which we feel 
 ourselves thus dependent is no mere rude power to which 
 we bow in mute resignation, but is at the same time both 
 order and law, reason and goodness, to which we sur- 
 render ourselves in loving trust. More than this : as we 
 perceive in ourselves the same disposition to the reason- 
 able and the good, which we seem to recognize in 
 the Cosmos, and find ourselves to be the beings by 
 whom it is felt and recognized, in whom it is to 
 become personified, we also feel ourselves related in our 
 inmost nature to that on which we are dependent, 
 we discover ourselves at the same time to be free in this 
 dependence: and pride and humility, joy and submission, 
 intermingle in our feeling for the Cosmos.. .We consider 
 it arrogant and profane on the part of a single individual 
 
 26, 31 rpvcpav fxe oO OiXei 6 Beds, ov5k y^p ry 'UpaKXel irapelx^ ry vli^ 
 
 Tip iavTov. 
 
 1 T/ie Old Faith and tJu New, Eng. tr. p. 161. 
 
 to oppose himself with such audacious levity [as the 
 Pessimists do] to the Cosmos, whence he springs, from 
 which also he derives that spark of reason [compare the 
 jTToppoia and aTToo-Trao-zxa of the Stoics] which he misuses. 
 ...We demand the same piety for our Cosmos that the 
 devout of old demanded for his God\' 
 
 The hymn of Cleanthes may fitly conclude our account 
 of the Stoics. *0 Thou of many names, most glorious of 
 immortals, Almighty Zeus, sovereign ruler of Nature, 
 directing all things in accordance with law; Thee it is right 
 that all mortals should address, for Thine offspring we are, 
 and, alone of all creatures that live and move on earth, have 
 received from Thee the gift of imitative sounds Where- 
 fore I will hymn thy praise and sing thy might for ever. 
 The universe, as it rolls around this earth, obeys Thy 
 guidance and willingly submits to Thy control. Such a 
 minister Thou boldest in thine invincible hands, the two- 
 edsed thunderbolt of ever-living fire, at whose strokes all 
 nature trembles... No work is done without Thee, O Lord, 
 neither on earth, nor in the heaven, nor in the sea, 
 except what the wicked do in their foolishness. Thou 
 knowest how to make the rough smooth', and bringest 
 order out of disorder, and things not friendly are friendly 
 in Thy sight : for so hast Thou fitted all things together, 
 good and evil alike, that there might be one eternal law 
 and reason for all things. The wicked heed it not, 
 
 1 It is worthy of note that Strauss also accepts the Stoic confla- 
 gration, see p. 180. 
 
 2 The Stoics thought that names were given 0i5o-ei ov vofnp, and 
 that in some way they represented the real nature of the thing, 
 fiifiovfjiivoip (puvwv TO. Trpdy/JLaTa, see Orig. c. Ccls. I. 24. 
 
 » Literally * to make what is odd even.' 
 
 M. P. 
 
 12 
 
173 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 179 
 
 unhappy ones, who, though ever craving for good, have 
 neither eyes nor ears for the universal law of God, by 
 wise obedience to which they might attain a noble life. 
 But now they think not of right ; but hasten each after 
 their own way, some painfully striving for honour, others 
 bent on shameful gains, others on luxury and the plea- 
 sures of the body. But do Thou, all-bounteous Zeus, who 
 sittest in the clouds and rulest the thunder, save men, 
 from their grievous ignorance : scatter it from their souls, 
 and grant them to obtain wisdom, whereon relying Thou 
 dost govern all things in righteousness; that so, being 
 honoured, we may requite Thee with honour, as it is 
 fitting for man to do, since there is no nobler office for 
 mortals or for gods, than duly to praise for evermore the 
 universal law.' 
 
 The broad distinction which we noticed at the be- 
 ginning of our history between the Italic or Doric and 
 the Ionic Schools, reappears in the marked contrast 
 between the two materialistic schools of later times. As 
 the Stoics are preeminently Doric and Roman in charac- 
 ter, so the Epicureans are Ionic and Greek. The one 
 might be said to represent the Law, the other the Gospel 
 of Paganism. The former not unfrequently made them- 
 selves odious and ridiculous among the more educated 
 class by their obstinacy, pride and intolerance, their 
 exaggeration, pedantry and narrow-mindedness; while the 
 latter won general favour in society by their freedom from 
 prejudice, their good sense and amiability. But, in spite 
 of this, it was the Porch which was the nurse and school 
 of all that was noblest in the Graeco-Roman world; from 
 it came the patriot, the martyr, the missionary, the hero : 
 
 it set the example of that renunciation which was followed 
 by the ascetic orders of Christendom ; it supplied to the 
 technicalities of Roman law that ideal element which 
 fitted it to become so important a factor in our modern 
 civilization. On the other hand, if we ask what results 
 proceeded from the Garden of Epicurus, we may point to 
 such a life as that of Atticus, who passed unscathed 
 through the Civil Wars of Rome, retaining the esteem of 
 all parties, and using his influence to alleviate the 
 sufferings of all ; we may see in Epicureanism a needful 
 protest in behalf of the rights of human nature and the 
 freedom of individual thought and feeling, against the 
 oppression of a superstitious religion and an over-strained 
 morality. But it is only as protest and correction that it 
 is of value; its own view of human nature is poorer and 
 narrower than that put forward by any of the systems 
 which it sought to supersede; it cares not for science in 
 Itself, it has no serious regard for truth as such, it offers 
 no spirit-stirring ideal for action ; there is nothing great, 
 generous or self-sacrificing in the temper of mind which 
 it tends to foster and encourage. And popular opinion, 
 which only recognizes broad contrasts, fastened upon the 
 essential differences in the two schools ; it regarded with 
 admiration the lofty character of a Zeno or a Cato, and 
 looked with suspicion upon their Epicurean rivals, as 
 undermining the foundations of religion and morality, 
 and advocating a life of selfish enjoyment. 
 
 We have comparatively io.^ remains of Epicurean 
 writers, none in fact but the poem of Lucretius, together 
 with some letters of Epicurus and the scarcely legible 
 fragments of Philodemus and others discovered at Her- 
 culaneum ; while we have several complete treatises on 
 
 12 — 2 
 
 I 
 
Q EPICUREANISM. 
 
 ,he other side, such as those of Seneca EP-tettts, M^ 
 Aurehus, and Cicero's philosoph.ca d,a ogtte. 1 e 
 Christian Fathers also sided strongly with the Stoics 
 a 'dn t the Epicureans, even going so far as to count 
 Sec one of themselves, so that the trad.t.onal hterary 
 Iv had till lately followed the old P0P"1- -^v. Bu 
 of late years the pendulum has s^vung .n the other 
 Lctn partly owing to more -urate researc J ^Wnch 
 has brou-ht to light the exaggerations of the old view, 
 patly to°the present rage for rehabilitating whatever has 
 b en condemLd by former ages, but more particularly 
 because Epicureanism was identified with the cause of 
 SonJntellectual, social, moral and religious ; becaiise 
 i was r garded as the forerunner of positive science and 
 of utli arian morality; and in a lesser degree because 
 1 g t poem of Lucretius having been better ed.ed 
 and more 'widely studied, admiration for the poet has led 
 can increased sympathy with the philosophy which he 
 Tdvoc^L-. To Ihat extent these advantages may f^^^^^^ 
 be claimed on behalf of Epicureanism -.U P«haps oe 
 ™ade clear as we proceed. For -V °- P^^^^^, ^ 
 clined to think Cicero was not very wid » '^ "^^J^ J^ 
 hP snoVce of it as a 'bourgms philosophy . \\hether we 
 lave re'ard to his expressed opinions on science and 
 Ueratueand ethics; or to the „««./^ of his assumptions 
 Se nanow scope of his imagination, the arbitrariness and 
 
 Acts XVII. 1 8. 
 
 2 PUbeii philosophic Tiisc. i. 55* 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 l8i 
 
 Epicurus seems to me to stand out among philosophers 
 as the representative of good-natured, self-satisfied, un- 
 impassioned, strong-willed and clear-headed Philistinism. 
 No doubt it was doing a service to mankind to give any- 
 thing like ])hilosophical expression to such a very im- 
 portant body of sentiment as that with which we are 
 familiar under this name ; but I think Epicurus himself 
 would be not a little surprised, if he could return to life 
 and see the kind of supporters, aesthetic and other, who 
 have lately flocked to his standard. 
 
 Historically speaking, Epicureanism may be roughly 
 described as a combination of the physics of Democritus 
 with the ethics of Aristippus*. Epicurus (341 — 270 B.C.) 
 was an Athenian, born in Samos, where he is said to have 
 received instruction in the doctrines of Plato and Demo- 
 critus, though, like Hobbes and Bentham and Comte in 
 later times, he himself always denied his indebtedness 
 to previous thinkers, and stoutly maintained his entire 
 independence and originality of thought. He founded 
 his school at Athens about 306 B.C., teaching in his own 
 'Garden,' which became not less famous than the Stoic 
 'Porch.' Here he gathered around him a sort of Pytha- 
 gorean brotherhood, consisting both of men and women, 
 united in a common veneration for their master^, and in 
 a mutual friendship which became proverbial in after 
 
 ^ See the excellent, though somewhat apologetic, account of 
 Epicureanism by W. Wallace, in the S. P. C. K. series. 
 
 ^ For the extravagant terms in which the Epicureans were 
 accustomed to speak of their founder, see Lucretius v. 8, detis ille 
 fuit, dens, iuchite JMemmt, qui princeps vitae rationem invenit earn 
 quae nunc appellatur sapientia, and other passages quoted in my 
 note on Cic. N. D. I. 43. His disciples kept sacred to his memory 
 not only his birthday, but the 20th day of every month, in ac- 
 
l82 
 
 EPICUREANISM, 
 
 years. All P^picureans were expected to learn by heart 
 short abstracts of their master's teaching, especially 
 the Articles of Belief, Kv^iai 8o'^at\ still preserved to 
 us by Diogenes Laertius; and it is said that the last 
 words addressed by Elpicurus to his disciples, were to bid 
 them 'remember the doctrines,' fiefivrjaOat twi/ Soy/xaVwi/. 
 The scandalous tongue of antiquity was never more 
 virulent than it was in the case of Epicurus, but, as 
 far as we can judge, the life of the Ciarden joined to 
 urbanity and refinement, a simplicity which would have 
 done no discredit to a Stoic; indeed the Stoic Seneca 
 continually refers to Epicurus not less as a model for 
 conduct, tlian as a master of sententious wisdom. It is 
 recorded that, though partly supported by the contribu- 
 tions of his disciples, Epicurus condemned the literal 
 application of the Pythagorean maxim kolvu ra 0iAo)r, much 
 as Aristotle had done before, because it implied a want 
 of trust in the generosity of friendship. Among the most 
 distinguished members of the school were JVletrodorus, 
 (J>aty/e alter Epicurus, as Cicero calls him) Hermarchus the 
 successor of Epicurus, Colotes, Leonteus and his wife 
 Themista, to whom Cicero jestingly alludes in his speech 
 against Piso, as a sort of female Solon, and Leontium the 
 hetaera, who ventured to attack Theophrastus in an essay 
 characterised, as we are told, by much elegance of style'. 
 Cicero mentions among his own contemporaries Phaedrus, 
 Zeno of Sidon, called the Coryphaeus Epicureorum 
 
 cordance with the instructions in his will. Hence they were called 
 in derision tUadtaTai, see Diog- L. x. 15, Cic. Ein. 11. loi. 
 
 ^ Cf. Diog. X. 12, 16, and Cic. Eiu. 11. 20, (/uis cniin vcstnim 
 non edidicit Epiairi Kvpias 56^as? 
 
 2 Cic. A^. D. '.§93. 
 
 EPICUREANISM. j S 3 
 
 {N. D. I 59,) and Philodemus of Gadara': and his ac- 
 count of the Epicurean doctrines is probably borrowed 
 from these. Epicureanism had great success among the 
 Romans"; but, with the exception of the poet Lucretius, 
 none of the Latin expounders of the system seem to have 
 been of any importance ^ 
 
 The end of the Epicurean philosophy was even more 
 exclusively practical than that of the Stoics. Logic 
 (called by Epicurus 'Canonic,' as giving the 'canon' or 
 test of truth) and physics were merely subordinate to 
 ethics, the art of attaining happiness. Knowledge, as 
 generally understood, is in itself of no value or interest, 
 but tends rather to corrupt and distort our natural judg- 
 ment and feeling. Hence we are told that Epicurus 
 preferred that his disciples should have advanced no 
 farther in the elements of ordinary education than just so 
 flir as to be able to read and write ^ In particular we 
 are informed that he condemned not only the study of 
 Poetry, Rhetoric and Music, but also those sciences 
 which Plato had declared to be the necessary Propaedeu- 
 tic of the philosopher, Arithmetic, Cicometry, Astronomy 
 and Dialectic or Logic, as being at best a frivolous waste 
 of time, dealing with words and not with things, if not 
 
 ^ Several treatises of Philodemus have been found amoni: the 
 Ilerculanean papyri. On the relation between his Ilepi Er<T6^€tas 
 and Cicero's De Natiira Dcorum see my edition of the latter, 
 pp. XLII — LV. 
 
 2 Cic. Tusc, IV 7, Fin. I 25. 
 
 3 Cf. Cic. Ticsc. II 7, and Zeller iii i. p. 372. 
 
 * Compare his words reported by Diogenes X 6, ira.iZeia.v Zk 
 naaav, fxaKapie, ^evye ; Quintil. InsL XII § 24, Epicurus f 11 '^ere 
 omnem disciplinam navi^atione quatn velocissima Jubet; and Sext. 
 Enip. Math. 1 1 and 49. 
 
1 84 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 185 
 
 actually erroneous and misleading'. It is possible that 
 these strictures may have had reference not so much to 
 Art and Literature and Science in themselves, as to the 
 manner in which they were then prosecuted, to the 
 'learned' poetry of Alexandria with its recondite mytho- 
 logical allusions^, to the hair-splitting logic of the Me- 
 garic and Stoic schools, and the unreal interpretations of 
 Nature propounded by the great idealistic philosophies; 
 but there is not the least appearance of any real specula- 
 tive interest among the early Epicureans ^ If there had 
 been, we can hardly suppose, that they would have 
 spoken of geometry as 'utterly false,' just at the time 
 when the Elements of Euclid, the elder contemporary of 
 Epicurus, had made their appearance amid the general 
 applause of the scientific world ^ Even their supposed 
 strong point ^, Physical Science, was not studied by them 
 for its own sake. Epicurus himself distinctly says that 
 
 1 See Cic. Fin. I § 72, II § 12, Acad. 11 § 106, and § 97. 
 
 ^ Metrodorus, however, told his disciples they need feel no 
 shame in confessing that they could not quote a line of the Iliad, 
 and did not know which side Hector took in the Trojan war. 
 
 ^ Ilirzel has shown in his U.itersiichimgen zu Ciceros philosoph- 
 ischen Sc/irifioi,^. 177 foil, that there was an important section, 
 among the later Epicureans (probably alluded to in Diog. X 25, as 
 those oi'S oi 'yviqaioL 'EiriKovpeioi (ro<pi(TTas aTroKaXovaiv) who set a 
 higher value on logic and literary culture generally than their 
 master had done. One of these was Philodemus, of whom Cicero 
 speaks as litteris perpolitus {In Pis. -jo), the author of numerous 
 treatises on rhetoric, music, poetry, dialectic, &c. 
 
 * See ArL in DiLL of Biog. by De Morgan, ' the Elements must 
 have been a tremendous advance, probably even greater than that con- 
 tained in the Principia of Newton ;' 'their fame was almost coaeval 
 with their publication.' 
 
 * Cic. Fin. l § 63: in physicis plurimnm posiiit. 
 
 1 
 
 *we must not think there is any other end in the 
 knowledge of ra fiereiopa, celestial phenomena, beyond 
 tranquillity of mind and freedom from superstitious 
 fears,'., .'if it had not been for the anxieties caused by 
 our ideas about death and about the influence of these 
 heavenly powers, there would have been no need for 
 Natural Philosophy (^^vo-toXoytas) '.'...' The minute in- 
 quiries of the astronomers do not tend to happiness : 
 nay the constant observation of the phenomena of the 
 heavens, without a previous knowledge of the true causes 
 of things, is likely to generate a timid and slavish turn of 
 mind^' The indifference of Epicurus to scientific truth 
 comes out still more strongly in the explanations which 
 he offers of particular phenomena. His one object being 
 to guard against the hypothesis either of divine agency or 
 of necessary law^, he tells his disciples that it is madness 
 to suppose that similar effects must always proceed from 
 the same causes, and provides them with a choice of 
 various hypotheses on which to explain the rising and 
 setting of the sun, the changes of the moon, the move- 
 ments of planets, earthquakes, thunder, lightning, &c. For 
 instance, it may be that the sun (which is no bigger than 
 it appears to the naked eye, so there is no need to be 
 afraid of it or make a god of it), passes under the earth 
 
 1 Diog. L. X 85 and 142, and other passages cited by Zeller, 
 p. 382 foil. 
 
 2 Paraphrased from Diog. x. 79, cf. § 93. 
 
 3 Compare Diog. x 134, where he speaks of the blessedness of 
 the man who has learnt thac necessity is only a name for the 
 effect of chance or of our own free will, and says that 'it were better 
 to believe in the fables about the gods than in the Fate of the 
 philosophers ; the former at least allows us some hope of propitia- 
 tion, but fate is inexorable.' 
 
i86 
 
 EPICUREAXISM, 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 on setting, and comes above it again on rising ; but it 
 may be, and it is just as probable, that the fiery particles 
 collect anew every day to form a fresh sun. We cannot 
 bring the matter to the direct test of sense, and therefore 
 we can only argue from our general experience of what 
 happens on earth, which shows that the one view is as 
 admissible as the other, spite of all that our system- 
 mongers may say'. Nay, even supposing that a certain 
 class of phenomena, such as eclipses, are always caused 
 in the same way in our world, it is still probable, indeed 
 almost certain, that they must be caused in different 
 ways in the countless worlds contained in the universe ^ 
 
 As regards the Logic of the Epicureans we are told 
 that they rejected as useless almost all that was known 
 under that name, Definition, Generalization, Classification, 
 the Syllogism, and that they had a special objection to 
 the Law of the Excluded Middle (A either is or is not B, 
 aut vivet eras Hermarchus ant 71011 vivd)^ as involving the 
 principle of Necessity ^ But in that age of the world, it 
 was no longer possible to fall back upon the master's 
 Ipse dixit with the implicit confidence of the old 
 Pythagoreans: some reason for their faith had to be 
 given. This ground of certainty Epicurus found in the 
 senses and feelings. What our sense or feeling tells us, 
 
 ^ Cf. Diog. L. X 113 TO 5^ ida.v alriav tovtuv airodLdovai, irXeova- 
 XcSs Twv (paLuofjiivwv iKKoXov/x^vuv, fxaviKov. See examples of these 
 alternative hypotheses in Diog. x 84 foil., Lucr. v 510 — 770. 
 
 ^ Compare Munro on Lucr. v. 532. In Diog. X. 78, Epicurus 
 seems to be applying Aristotle's contrast between the disorderly and 
 capricious movements of the sublunary sphere and the perfect order 
 of the higher spheres, to his own Kofffioi and fieraKoa-fxia, and to find 
 in this a justification for the variety of causation in the former. 
 
 ' See Cic. Fin. i 22, and A'. Z>. I 70 and 89 with my notes. 
 
 187 
 
 we receive as certain. Even the supposed sensations of 
 sleep or of insanity are in a way true. They have a real 
 cause, viz. the influx of those images of which Democritus 
 spoke. *The error,' said Epicurus following Aristotle', 
 Mies not in the sensation, but in our interpretation of the 
 sensation, in the inference we draw from it. If we once 
 abandon this ground of certainty, all is gone. Whatever 
 reasoning is not founded on the clear evidence (eVapycia, 
 perspiaiitas) of sense, is mere words. It is true that the 
 image which comes to us does not always correspond 
 with the actual object (a-Tepi/jiVLov). An image coming 
 from a square tower at a distance, will perhaps be round 
 by the time it reaches us, its edges having been rubbed 
 away in its passage through the air : but the sensation 
 has given the image correctly ; error arises when we add 
 to the sensation the opinion that the image is an exact 
 representation of the object'.' Opinions (vTroXyjif/eL^) 
 are only true, if testified to by a distinct sensation, or, 
 supposing such direct evidence unattainable, if there is 
 no contrary sensation ; they are false, in all other cases^ 
 Repeated sensations produce a permanent image, Trpo'- 
 XrjiJ/iq, so called because it exists in the mind as an 
 anticipation of the name, which would be unmeaning if 
 it could not be referred to a known type. General terms 
 can only be safely used for the purpose of argument 
 when they rest upon and represent a Trpo'Ar^i/^i?. Otherwise 
 
 1 See Efe Anima in 3, 77 fxkv a'caOrjais ti2v Idliov aei a\ri6ris, 
 havodcdai. 5' evUx^rat koI ^pevdcos, and my note on JV. D. I 70. 
 
 2 Sext. Emp. Adv. Math, vii 203, foil. 
 
 3 An instance given is the existence of void, of which there can 
 be no distinct evidence, but it is in accordance with the fact of 
 motion, which itself rests upon the evidence of our senses, Sext. 
 Emp, /. c. 213. 
 
i88 
 
 EPICUREAXISM. 
 
 their use only engenders strifes of words. Epicurus him- 
 self does not seem to have carried his logical investiga- 
 tions further than this; but among the Herculanean 
 papyri we have an interesting treatise by Philodemus in 
 which he deals with Analogical and Inductive Argu- 
 ments \ 
 
 It has been already stated that the only reason allowed 
 by the Epicureans for studying Physics was to free the 
 soul from superstitious fears, and with this view to prove 
 that the constitution of the universe might be explained 
 from mechanical causes. There is something very re- 
 markable, and not altogether easy to account for, in the 
 extreme earnestness with which the Epicureans deprecated 
 the oppressive influence of superstition, at a time when 
 other philosophers, and writers in general, treated it as 
 too unimportant to deserve the slightest attention. Thus 
 Cicero asks 'where is the old woman so far gone in 
 dotage as to believe in a three-headed Cerberus and 
 those other bugbears which your sect tells us you have 
 only ceased to fear because of your knowledge of physical 
 science'^,' and in arguing against the fear of death, he 
 assumes as an undoubted point that death is either 
 annihilation or the admission to a higher state of 
 happiness ^ Friedlander however in his Sittetigeschichte 
 Roms^ has shown that this only expresses the opinion of 
 
 ^ See Bahnsch on the Trepl (rrj/jLeiwy Kal ffrjfxeiuxj-eojv of Philodemus, 
 1879. 
 
 2 See Tusc. I 10 and 48, and compare JV. D. I 86, qiiihus 
 viediocres homines non ita valde moventtir^ his ille clamat ovinitun 
 viortalium metites esse perterritas. 
 
 ■* Tusc. I 25. 
 
 •* Bk. XI on the Immortality of the Soul. 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 189 
 
 a small educated class, and that the mass still clung to 
 the old beliefs about Charon and Cocytus. Even Cicero 
 himself elsewhere speaks of the spread of superstition in 
 terms not unlike those employed by Lucretius'. The 
 fact seems to be that while, on the one side, the spread 
 of enlightenment made it more and more impossible for 
 any educated man to accept the absurdities and im- 
 moralities of paganism ; and while the prevalence of this 
 educated scepticism cannot but have shaken the popular 
 hold on the old superstitions, so far as this partook in 
 any degree of the nature of belief rather than of unreason- 
 ing custom; on the other hand that deepening of the 
 mdividual consciousness which accompanied the extinc- 
 tion of the public life of Greece, and which was fostered 
 by the growing influence of philosophy and its more 
 subjective tone, must have intensified the sense of moral 
 and religious responsibility, and given rise to an increased 
 anxiety as to a possible retribution to follow this life. 
 This appears partly in the rapid growth of the Orphic 
 and other mysteries, partly in philosophic or poetic 
 imaginations of the unseen world, such as we read in the 
 Republic and the Acncid. And thus * the general convic- 
 tion of a judgment to come, where the deeds done in 
 this life would receive their reward and punishment, 
 seems to have been widely felt, and to have been, for 
 priests and prophets, a fruitful soil. Indulgences for sin, 
 propitiation of impiety, sacramental atonement, not to 
 
 ^ De Divin, 11 148, Nam, tit vere loquaviur, supersiitio fusa per 
 gentes oppressit omnium fere animos atque hominum imbecillitatem 
 occupavit; compare Lucretius l 62, Humana ante oculos foede cum 
 vita jaceret in terris oppressa gravi sub religione, quae caput a caeli 
 regionibus ostendebat horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans, &-c. 
 
J 
 
 190 
 
 EPICUREANISM, 
 
 mention magic and baser forms of superstition, flourished 
 alongside of Epicureanism all through its career, and 
 probably reached their maximum in the first and second 
 centuries of the Christian era\' The fault of Epicurus 
 was that he only saw the bad side of this state of things. 
 He saw, as Plato had done, that * a corrupt religion gives 
 birth to impious and unholy deeds;' he saw the paralyzing 
 influence of a real belief in the never-ending punishment 
 of sin^ Plato's remedy was to train the young in the be- 
 lief of the perfect goodness and justice of God, that so they 
 might learn to trust in His Providence, and receive with 
 meekness His chastisements, knowing that He harms none 
 and punishes only to reform. Epicurus thought there could 
 be no security from superstitious terror unless men could 
 be persuaded that death ended all, and that the Gods took 
 no heed of our actions. Plutarch has well pointed out 
 how little this accords with the experience of lifc^ 'It 
 is far better,' says he, 'that there should be a blended 
 fear and reverence in our feelings towards the Deity, 
 than that, to avoid this, we should leave ourselves neither 
 hope nor gratitude in the enjoyment of our good things, 
 nor any recourse to the Divine aid in our adversity. 
 Epicurus takes credit to himself for delivering us from the 
 misery of fear, but in the case of the bad this fear is the 
 
 ^ Wallace Epicureanism^ p. 123, Theophrastus Characters xvi. 
 Plutarch De Siiperstitione. 
 
 2 See Lucr. i loi, tantiim reii^^o potiiit suadere malornm^ and 
 107, nam si cei'tam Jinem esse viderent aerumnarii7n homines, aliqtta 
 ratione vakrcnt religionibits atqiie minis obsistere vatum: nunc ratio 
 nulla est restandi^ nulla facultas, aeternas quoniam poenas in morte 
 timendumst. 
 
 3 The quotation which follows is a paraphrase from the treatise 
 Non posse siuiviter vivi secundum Epicurum^ p. 11 01 foil. 
 
 EPIC UREANISM, 
 
 191 
 
 one thing which enables them to resist temptation to vice, 
 and in all other cases the thought of God and of a future 
 life is a source of joy and consolation, in proportion as 
 a man has come to know God as the Friend of man and 
 the Father of all beautiful things.' 
 
 We will now see what was the talisman by which 
 Epicurus endeavoured to arm the soul against the 
 religion which he so much dreaded. The two main 
 principles on which he built his physical system were 
 that nothing could be produced out of nothing, and 
 that what exists cannot become non-existent. From 
 these principles he deduced the truth of the atomic 
 doctrine, differing however from Democritus in one im- 
 portant point, viz. in his explanation of the manner in 
 which the atoms Mere brought together. Democritus 
 had asserted that the heavier atoms overtook the lighter 
 in their downward course, and thus initiated the collision 
 which finally resulted in a general vortical movement. 
 Epicurus retaining the same crude view of *up' and 'down' 
 held that each atom moved with equal speed, and that they 
 could only meet by an inherent power of self-movement 
 which enabled them to swerve to the slightest possible 
 extent from the rigid vertical line; and he found a 
 confirmation of this indeterminate movement of the 
 atoms in the free will of man\ In other respects there 
 is little difference between the physical views of De- 
 mocritus and Epicurus. Both held that there were 
 innumerable worlds^ continually coming into being and 
 
 1 On the deviation of atoms (Trap^yKXiai^, clinamen), see Cic. 
 A^. D. I 69 with my note. 
 
 2 Epicurus defined a world as *a section of the infinite, embracing 
 in itself an earth and stars and all the phenomena of the heavens,' 
 
192 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 passing out of being in the infinitude of space. Our 
 own world is already showing signs of decay, and is no 
 longer prolific of fresh life as in its beginning. As to 
 subordinate arrangements Epicurus thought it unnecessary 
 and indeed impossible to assign any one theory as 
 certain. It was enough if we could imagine theories 
 which were not palpably inadmissible, and which enabled 
 us to dispense with any supernatural cause. The ex- 
 istence of the present race of animals was explained, as it 
 had been by Empedocles, on a rude Darwinian hypothesis'. 
 Out of the innumerable combinations of atoms which 
 had been tried throughout the infinite ages of the past, 
 those only survived which were found to be suited to 
 their environment. The eye was not made to see with, 
 but being made by the fortuitous concourse of atoms it 
 was found on trial to have the property of seeing'. 
 
 On the nature of the soul and the manner in which it 
 receives its impressions by images from without, Epicurus, 
 in the main, follows Democritus, adding a few unimpor- 
 tant modifications suggested by the subsequent course of 
 speculation. Thus the soul is still made to consist of 
 smooth round atoms, but it is no longer a simple 
 substance: it is partly the irrational principle of life 
 {anima) dispersed throughout the body, partly the rational 
 principle {jnens, animus,) concentered in the heart : and 
 the atoms of which both of these are made up, though 
 we must suppose not in the same proportions, have 
 
 (TTcptox^ Tis ohpavQV dffTpa re Kal ynv koL iravTa to. <paiv6fi€va Trepi- 
 ^Xovo-a) ; such worlds are of every variety of form, Diog. L. x 88. 
 (Hubner and other editors omit y-qv without reason.) 
 
 1 Lucr. V 783 foil. 
 
 3 Lucr. IV 823 foil. 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 193 
 
 already coalesced into four distinct elements, one resem- 
 bling wind {-rrvcvfjca, ventus or aura), which predominates 
 in the timid soul of the swift deer, one fire, which shows 
 itself in the fury of the lion, the third air, which gives to 
 the oxen their character of calm repose, midway between 
 burning passion and chill fear; the last element (evidently 
 suggested by the Quififa Essentia of Aristotle) is name- 
 less, composed of the very finest atoms ; sensation, 
 thought and will, are transmitted from it to the other 
 elements. Death ensues on the severing of the link 
 which binds the soul to the body : the etherial atoms 
 of soul are immediately dispersed into the outer air, the 
 earthy atoms of body gradually fall apart and rejoin their 
 parent earih. Every mental impression is a modification 
 of touch. The images thrown off from the surface of 
 solid objects {a-ripiixvia) are perceptible by the soul- 
 atoms located in the bodily organs ; but there are more 
 delicate images which are only perceptible by the mind 
 itself: such are the images presented to the mind in 
 slumber, or in thinking of the absent or the unreal. 
 These images are sometimes produced by the coalescence 
 of two or more images as in the case of the centaur, 
 sometimes by a chance concatenation of fine atoms. 
 Often, as in recollection, it requires an effort of mind 
 (eVi^oA.>7, injectus aninu\) to bring the fleeting image 
 steadily before us. It is for the wise man to determine 
 in the case of each image, whether it has a real object 
 corresponding to it. 
 
 One class of images deserves especial attention. 
 
 They are those which have led men to believe in the 
 
 Gods. Shapes of superhuman size and beauty and 
 
 strength appear to us both in our w'aking moments and 
 
 M. p. 13 
 
 
1.t5:^j?~"^/ 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 194 
 
 still more in sleep'. These recurring appearances have 
 riven rise to an anticipation, .poX#>9, of Divinity of which 
 the essential characteristics are immortality and blessed- 
 ness The truth of this rp<5Xr,^« is testified to by the 
 universal consent of mankind. Taking it as our starting 
 point we may go on to assign to the Gods such qualities 
 as are agreeable to these essential attributes. If, in doing 
 so we run counter to the vulgar opinion and the many idle 
 imaginations (v.oX#«s) which have been added to the 
 .poX#.., it is not we who are guilty of impiety, bu 
 those who impute to the Gods what is inconsistent with 
 their true character. The idea of blessedness mvolvcs 
 not only happiness but absolute perfection It forbids 
 us to suppose that the Gods can be troubled with the 
 creation or government of a world ; and this conclusion 
 is confirmed by our experience of what our own world .s 
 the greatest portion of it uninhabit.able from excess of 
 cold or heat, much of the remainder barren and unfruit- 
 ful, even the best land requiring constant toil to make it 
 produce what is of use to man. Then think of the 
 larious miseries of life, to which the good are exposed 
 no less than the bad,— all this shows 
 
 wquaquam nobis divinitus esse farafam ^ 
 nafuram rerum ; tanta stat pracdila culpa . 
 
 . The fact of these 'cpiphanicV w.. gcncv.lly accepted. For 
 recorded instances see my note on Cic. A". Z>. . 46. 1' 's no ^e^y 
 clear why the appearances of Gods were considered to stand on 
 a d fferent fooling from those of departed spirits, .Inch were 
 eqn^y vonched for by experience. See L„cr. IV 3, f""- « 
 ^shapes of the dead, which 'frighten onr minds .hen they pre et 
 hems Ives to ns awake as well as in sleep;' and compare 7" foU. 
 Ind . ..V. Aristotle also referred to dreams as one cav.se of our 
 belief in Divine beings. 
 > Lucr. V 198. 
 
 [ 
 
 EriCUREANISM, 
 
 J95 
 
 r 
 
 There are other more general considerations which point 
 to the same conclusion : for what sudden motive can we 
 conceive which should make the Gods abandon their 
 state of eternal repose, and set to the work of creation, 
 and how, with no model before them, could they know 
 what to make or how to make it ; again, how can we 
 possibly believe that any being should be powerful 
 enough to administer, not to say to create, the infinity of 
 nature ? It is equally impossible to ascribe to the Gods 
 such weakness and pettiness of mind as to feel anger 
 or be propitiated with gifts, or to take a fussy interest 
 in the affairs of men. They enjoy undisturbed tran- 
 quillity in some region far removed from our troubled 
 
 world. 
 
 This tranquil region Epicurus found in the inlcr- 
 immdia, the spaces between his countless worlds. He 
 seems to have borrowed the suggestion from Aristotle, who 
 transformed the heaven of the poets into the supra-celestial 
 region where space and time are not, but 'where the 
 things outside enjoy through all eternity a perfect life of 
 absolute joy and peace \' But the unchangeableness 
 which belongs naturally to Aristotle's solitary world is 
 altogether out of place in the countless perishable worlds 
 of Epicurus. For successive worlds need not occupy the 
 same point in space nor be made up of the same 
 materials ; new worlds are formed koX iv Koama koX iv 
 IxeraKocTfjiiia, and their materials may have been either 
 already made use of for the formation of a world or they 
 may be floating loose in an i7itermimdiiim'^. Moreover, 
 during the existence of each world, it is constantly either 
 
 ^ Ari.st. De Caclo i 9. 
 '^ Diog. X 8g. 
 
 13— 2 
 
gi^ '^y-,'^^^-;'' 
 
 :^^m' y-^ • ^'^ Mi^vmvm ani 
 
 I 
 
 196 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 recelviii" an accession of atoms from the intermundia or, 
 in its tocr stages, giving them back again. It is plam 
 therefore that Epicurus has failed to find a safe retreat for 
 his Gods in the inlcrmundia and that they are quite as 
 much exposed to tlie mdus ruimrum there as they 
 would have been within the world'. 
 
 A"nin, the Gods, like every other existing thmg, are 
 made up of atoms and void; but every compound .s hable 
 to dissolution ; how is this compatible with immortality? 
 One answer given was that the destructive and conservative 
 forces in the universe balance one another, but m this 
 world the destructive forces have the upper hand, therefore 
 elsewhere, probably in the UiicnnHndia, the conservative 
 forces must prevail^ Another reason was that the atoms 
 of which the Gods are composed, were so fine and 
 delicate as to evade the blows of the coarser atoms . 
 This idea of the extreme tenuity of the div.nc corporeity 
 was doubtless suggested partly by the Homeric descrip- 
 tion of the Gods 'who are bloodless and immorta 
 (// V ■x^o) and partly by the shadowy idola of the dead 
 which esc>pe the grasp of their living friends. We find 
 yet another reason assigned, not so much perhaps for the 
 actual immortality of the Gods, as for our belief in it, in 
 the alleged fact of an incessant stream of divme images 
 (crS»\a), too subtle to impinge on the bodily senses, but 
 
 1 Compare Cic. Divin. 11 4°, ^- D- ■ -S, 53, U4. Diog- X 89, 
 
 l.ucr. II 1105— 1174. 
 
 2 Cic. N. D. I 50, with my note. , „ 7 • 
 
 » See Cic. N. D. I 68-7.. and the p.issage from IIcrculancns,a, 
 Vol VI. pt. 2 p. ,=, quoted in my note on § 7. 'no object which is 
 peteptil'e .0 the s;nses is immortal, for its density makes .. hable 
 10 severe shocks. ' 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 197 
 
 perceptible by the kindred atoms of mind'. Evidently 
 this incessant never-ending influx of divine images is not 
 a thing which can be directly vouched for by any human 
 experience. We are not directly conscious even of the 
 stream of images. All that an Epicurean could say is 
 that we seem from time to time to behold the same 
 glorified form, and that there is some ground for suppos- 
 ing similar appearances during past ages; that we can 
 only account for such appearances by the supposition of 
 an uninterrupted succession of images continued from a 
 very remote period. But this of course is no proof of 
 immortality : if it were so, we must a fortiori believe the 
 immortality of the sun, or indeed, as the Ciceronian Cotta 
 remarks {N. D. i 109), of any common object, since our 
 ordinary perceptions are due to such an uninterrupted 
 stream of images^ If it is said that we cannot help attri- 
 buting in our thought a permanent unchanging existence 
 to the divine nature, and that this law of thought is only 
 explicable, on the Epicurean hypothesis, by the supposi- 
 tion of an endless stream of images actuating our mind, 
 then the belief in the divine immortality is made the 
 
 1 Lucretius (v 1161 foil.) describins how the belief in the gods 
 originated in visions, tells us that they were thought to be immortal, 
 partly because they seemed to be loo mighty to be overcome by any 
 force, and partly quia semper eortun subpeditabatnr fades et forma 
 mancbat, one image constantly succeeded another giving the impres- 
 sion of a permanent form. There is a similar use of the verb 
 stippedito in iv 776, (where he explains the apparent movements in 
 dreams by the rapid succession of particles, tanta est copia partiada- 
 rum ut possit siippeditare) and in Cic. N. D. I 109 (referring to the 
 divine images) inmimerabilitas suppcditat atomoru7Ji. See for a 
 'Tcneral discussion on the subject my notes on N. D. I 49. 
 
 ' See Lucr. IV 26 foil., Diog. X 48. 
 
198 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 EPICUREANISM, 
 
 199 
 
 ground of our belief in the interminablencss of i-magcs, 
 not vice versa. When we furtlier remember that these 
 countless images are supposed to travel intact all the way 
 from the inter mimdia, (see Cic. N. D. i \i^ ex ipso (deo) 
 imagines semper affliiant, and Lucr. vi 76 de corpore quae 
 sancto simulacra feruntur in mentes hominum divinae 
 nuntia formae,) and to be incessantly thrown off from 
 bodies which were themselves scarcely more than images, 
 we shall not wonder that some of the Epicureans failed 
 to rise to the height of the credo quia impossibile which their 
 system demanded, and fell back on the easier doctrine of 
 Democritus, asserting the divinity of the images them- 
 selves, and deriving them not from the deities of the 
 iniermundia, but from the combinations of etherial atoms 
 floating in the surrounding air^ 
 
 1 This seems to me to be the easiest explanation of the much 
 disputed words of Diogenes X 139, eV dtWois U <t>y]<n tovs deous Xoyip 
 eewprjTovs, ovs [ikv kut apiBfiov i}^.e<rrt3ras, ous 5^ Kaff ofxoeidiav €k rijs 
 <7VP€xods emppv(Tews tQv 6/Jioioju eldwXuu eirl to aiiro awoTeTeXeafi^vuv 
 6j'dpo3TroeLQ(2s. Ilirzcl in his UntersucJiimgcn zu Cicero's philosophischen 
 schriftcn, pp. 46—90, whom Zeller follows in his last edition, p. 431, 
 has shown, in opposition to Schumann {De Epiiiiri T/icohgia, con- 
 tained in the 4th vol. of his Opuscula), that there is no reason for 
 altering the text, and that we must accept it as a fact that there were 
 two classes of gods recognized in the Epicurean school, one possessed 
 of a separate individuaHty and having their abode in the ijitermimdia, 
 the other existing only in virtue of a continuous stream of un- 
 distinguishable images which in their combination produce on our 
 minds the impression of a human form. Zeller thinks that the latter 
 are meant for the unreal gods of the popular mythology, which, like 
 the centaur and every other human imagination, must have their 
 origin in some corresponding image; but the words of Diogenes 
 seem to me to be less appropriate to the very concrete deities of the 
 Greek pantheon than to some vague feeling of a divine presence such 
 
 i: 
 
 \ 
 
 Leaving the question of immortality, we pass on to 
 speak of the Epicurean belief as to the shape of the 
 Gods. They derided the spherical mundane God of the 
 Stoics, and held that the direct evidence of visions, no 
 less than the general belief of mankind, testified that the 
 Gods were in the likeness of men. But this might also 
 be proved by reasoning, for experience showed that 
 rationality was only found in human form ; and besides, 
 the human, being the most perfect form, must be that of 
 the most perfect being. Some of the later Epicureans 
 went on to describe in detail the manner of life of their 
 Intermundian Gods. They lived in houses, ate and drank 
 celestial food, needed no sleep, for they were never weary; 
 their chief enjoyment was conversation, which probably 
 went on in Greek or something very like it: in fact they 
 were in heaven what the Epicurean brotherhood was, or 
 strove to be, on earth \ Such Gods were worthy of our 
 reverence and imitation, but they were not objects of 
 fear, as they neither could nor would do us harm". 
 
 While Epicurus agrees with Aristippus in making 
 pleasure the sole natural end of life, the standard of 
 good, as sensation is of truth, he differs from him in 
 attaching more value to permanent tranquillity than to 
 
 as might lie caused by the idola of Democritus. Compare also the 
 parallel passage in Cic. N. D. I 49. 
 
 ^ See Philodemus, quoted by Zeller, p. 434 foil. 
 
 * Some of the Epicureans seem to have allowed to their Gods a 
 certain influence over the happiness of men; see the passages quoted 
 from Philodemus irepl eu(7e/?etas in my note on Cic. N. D. I 45, 
 especially pp. 86—89 (Gompertz) 'the Stoics deny that the Gods are 
 the authors of evil to men and thus take away all restraint on 
 iniquity, while we say that punishment comes to some from the gods 
 and the greatest of good to others. ' See too Lucr. vi 70. 
 
200 
 
 EPICUREANISM, 
 
 momentary gratification, and also in preferring mental 
 pleasures to bodily, as involving memory and hope, and 
 therefore both more enduring and more under our control. 
 Still bodily pleasure is the groundwork and foundation of 
 all other pleasure, as Epicurus says (Diog. x 6) *I know 
 not what good means if you deny me the pleasures of the 
 senses;' and Metrodorus *all good is concerned with 
 the belly' or, as it might be expressed in our own 
 day, 'the siimmiim bouum is a healthy digestion' (Cic. 
 N, D. I 113). Virtue is not desirable for itself, 
 as an end, but only as the means to attain pleasure. 
 The wise man, i. e. the virtuous man, is happy because he is 
 free from the fear of the Gods and of death, because he 
 has learnt to moderate his passions and desires, because 
 he knows how to estimate and compare pleasures and 
 pains, so as to secure the largest amount of the former 
 with the least of the latter. The distinction between 
 right and wrong rests merely on utility and has nothing 
 mysterious about it. Thus Epicurus says 'Injustice is 
 not in itself evil, but it is rightly shunned because it is 
 always accompanied by the fear of detection and punish- 
 ment'.' 'Justice is nothing in itself; it is simply an 
 agreement neither to injure or be injured'.' One chief 
 means of attaining pleasure is the society of friends. To 
 
 Diog. X 151, 7) aSiATta oJ /ca^' ka\nr,v KaKov, d\X iv r^J /card rijv 
 viro\piav (pojSu), el firi \-']<T€1 tovs virep ti2u toiovtwv ^(pecTrjKOT as 
 KoXacTTas. 
 
 Diog. X 150. TO ttJj 0iWajs diKaiov iffri avfjL^oXov rod av/iKp^- 
 poPTos els TO fxri ^XdirTeiv dWrfKovs firjU ^XdiTTeadai. ♦There is no 
 justice or injustice for animals or for those tribes which have not 
 been able, or have not chosen to make such compacts : ovk rju ti 
 Kad' eavTo diKaioavprj, but a kind of compact in regard to mutual 
 association extending over certain localities.' 
 
 EnCUREANISM. 
 
 201 
 
 
 enjoy this we should cultivate the feelings of kindness and 
 benevolence. Epicurus does not recognize any claims 
 of a wider society. He considers it folly to take part 
 in public life, and Metrodorus dissuaded his brother from 
 such a course in the words 'it is not our business to seek 
 for crowns by saving the Greeks, but to enjoy ourselves 
 in good eating and drinking' (Plut. Adv, Col. 1125 D.). 
 
 What has been said will sufficiently account for the 
 dislike entertained by Cicero and others towards the 
 ' swinish doctrines ' of Epicurus. I subjoin a few other 
 quotations from his writings, some of which may help to 
 give a more favourable impression of the man and explain 
 Seneca's admiration for him. 'We think contentment 
 (ai-Tttp/ccia,self-sufficingness) a great good, not with a view 
 to stint ourselves to a little in all cases, but in order that, 
 if we have not got much, we may content ourselves with 
 little, being fully persuaded that those enjoy luxury most 
 who need it least, and that whatever is natural is easily 
 procured, and only what is matter of vain ostentation is 
 hard to win. Plain dishes give as much pleasure as 
 expensive ones, provided there is enough to remove the 
 pain of hunger; and bread and water are productive of 
 the highest pleasure to one who is really in want. The 
 regular use of a simple inexpensive diet not only keeps a 
 man in perfect health, but it gives him promptness and 
 energy to meet all the requirements of life, while it makes 
 him more capable of enjoying an occasional feast and 
 also renders him fearless of fortune. When we speak 
 then of pleasure as the end, we do not mean the pleasure 
 of the sensualist, as some accuse us of doing : we mean 
 the absence of bodily pain and of mental anxiety \' 
 ^ From the Epistle of Epicurus to Menoeceus in Diog. x 130. 
 
202 
 
 EPICUREANISM, 
 
 *Man cannot Jive pleasantly without living wisely and 
 nobly and justly, nor can he live wisely and nobly and 
 justly without living pleasantly*.' 
 
 * The wealth of nature is limited and easily procured, 
 the wealth of vain imagination knows no limit".' 
 
 * Fleshly pleasure, when once the pain of want is 
 removed, admits of no increase, but only of variation'.' 
 
 * Great pain cannot last long, lasting pain is never 
 violent. In chronic diseases tlie bodily state is on the 
 whole more pleasurable than painful*.' 
 
 So far we may recognize a genuine Epicurean senti- 
 ment. In the two quotations which follow there is an 
 imitation of Stoic bravado. 
 
 Epistle to Idomeneus. * I wTite this to you on the 
 last day of my life, a happy day in spite of the agonizing 
 pain of my disease, for I oppose to all my pain the 
 mental pleasure arising from the memory of our former 
 discussions. My last request is that you will befriend 
 the children of Metrodorus in a manner worthy of your 
 life-long devotion to me and to philosophy'.' 
 
 *Even in the bull of Phalaris the wise man would 
 retain his happiness^' 
 
 * Courage does not come by nature, but by calculation 
 of expediency^' 
 
 * Friendship exists for the sake of advantage. Eut we 
 
 ^ From the Kvptai, do^ai Diog. X 140. 
 
 ^ I^. § 144- 3 7/ id. 
 
 * Diog. X 140, Plut. AuJ. Poet. 36 b. ; Cic. Fin. 11 22, si gra- 
 vis brevis, si longus levis. 
 
 ' Diog. X 22, Cic. Fin. 11 96. 
 
 • Cic. Tusc. II 17, Diog. x 118. 
 ' Diog. X 120. 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 203 
 
 
 must be willing to take the initiative, just as we must 
 begin by sowing, in order to reap afterwards'.' 
 
 *The wise man will dogmatize and not raise sceptical 
 
 objections (aTroprja-eLv)^.' 
 
 'The wise man will not fall in love, nor will he marry 
 or beget children except under special circumstances, for 
 many are the inconveniences of marriage ^' 
 
 I add one more quotation to illustrate not so much 
 the doctrines of Epicurus, as the grandeur and the 
 gloom of one who was a Roman and a poet before he 
 was an Epicurean. 
 
 *'* Now no more shall thy home receive thee with glad 
 welcome, nor wife and children run to be the first to snatch 
 kisses and touch thy heart with a silent joy. One disastrous 
 day has taken from thee, luckless man, all the many prizes 
 of life." This do men say, but add not thereto *'and now no 
 longer does any craving for these things beset thee withal." 
 For thus they ought rather to think "Thou, even as now 
 thou art, sunk in the sleep of death, shalt continue so for 
 ever, freed from all distress; but we with a sorrow that 
 would not be sated, wept for thee, when close by, thou 
 didst turn to an ashen hue on the appalling funeral pile, 
 and no length of days shall pluck from our hearts our ever- 
 
 1 Diog. X 12 1. Seneca Ep. 9, draws the contrast between the 
 Epicurean view which recommended friendship in order that one 
 might have a friend's help and succour, ut liabeat qui sibi aegro 
 assidcaty siicciirrat in vincula coujccto vel inopi, and the Stoic view 
 that he might be useful to others, itt habcat aliqiiem cni ipse aegro 
 assideaty quern ipse circumvcntum hostili custodia liberet. But 
 Epicurus allows there may be occasions on which the wise man 
 would die for his friend, virkp <pi\ov ttot^ Tedw^^eaOai. Diog. I2r. 
 
 2 Diog. X 121. 
 
 ^ Diog. X 119. The last clause is added by Seneca, see Zeller, 
 
 P- 459» n- 
 
 i!,, 
 
 II. y 
 
204 
 
 EPICUREANISM, 
 
 during grief."... Once more, if Nature could suddenly 
 utter a voice and rally any one of us in such words as 
 these, "what reason hast thou, O mortal, for all this ex- 
 ceedinir sorrow? whv bemoan and bewail death? For, 
 if thy life past and gone has been welcome to thee, why 
 not take thy departure like a guest filled with life, and 
 enter with resignation on untroubled rest? But if all 
 thou hast enjoyed has been squandered and lost and life 
 is a grievance, why seek to add more, to be wasted in 
 its turn and utterly lost without avail ? Why not rather 
 make an end of life and travail ? for there is nothing 
 more which I can contrive to give thee pleasure: all 
 things are ever the same."... With good reason, methinks, 
 Nature would bring her charge ; for old things give way 
 and are supplanted by new,. ..one thing never ceases to 
 rise out of another, and life is granted to none in fee- 
 simple, to all in usufruct. ..And those things sure enough, 
 which are fabled to be in the deep of Acheron, do all 
 exist for us in this life... Cerberus and the Furies and 
 Tartarus belching forth hideous fires from his throat, 
 these are things which nowhere are, nor sooth to say can 
 be. But there is in hfe a dread of punishment for evil 
 deeds, si-mal as the deeds are signal ; there is the prison 
 and the hurling from the rock, the scourging and the 
 executioner, the dungeon of the doomed; or should 
 these be wanting, yet the conscience-stricken mind through 
 boding fears applies to itself whips and goads, and sees 
 not what end there can be of evils or what limit at last is 
 set to punishments, and fears lest these very evils be 
 airirravated after death, so that the life of fools becomes 
 at length a hell on earth. Remember too that even 
 worthy Ancus has closed his eyes in darkness, who was 
 
 I 
 
 
 EPICUREANISM. 
 
 205 
 
 far, far better than thou, unconscionable man. And since 
 then, many kings and potentates have been laid low, who 
 lorded it over mighty nations. He too, even he who erst 
 made a path for his legions to march over the deep, and 
 set at naught the roarings of the seas, trampling on them 
 v/ith his horses, had the light taken from him and shed 
 forth his soul from his dying body. The son of the 
 Scipios, thunderbolt of war, terror of Carthage, yielded 
 his bones to earth, just as if he were the lowest menial. 
 Think too of the inventors of all sciences and graceful 
 arts, think of the companions of the Heliconian maids; 
 among whom Homer bore the sceptre without a peer, 
 and he now sleeps the same sleep as others... Even 
 Epicurus passed away, when his light of life had run its 
 course, he who surpassed in intellect the race of man 
 and quenched the light of all, as the etherial sun arisen 
 quenches the stars. Wilt thou then hesitate and think it 
 a hardship to die ? thou for whom life is well nigh dead 
 whilst yet thou livest and seest the light, who wastest the 
 greater part of thy time in sleep and snorest wide awake 
 and ceasest not to see visions and hast a mind troubled 
 with groundless terror and canst not discover often what 
 it is that ails thee, when, besotted man, thou art sore 
 pressed on all sides with a multitude of cares and goest 
 astray still floundering in the maze of error'.' 
 
 In tracing the history of the post-Aristotelian philo- 
 sophy we have seen that, underneath the antagonisms of 
 the different schools of this period, there was, in the first 
 place, much which they held in common, in opposition 
 
 1 Lucr. Ill 894—1052. The translation is Munro's, slightly 
 altered and abbreviated. 
 
 I 
 
206 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 to the earlier schools ; and secondly that there was 
 a constant tendency, especially noticeable in the Acade- 
 mic and Stoic schools, to approximate to each other and 
 to modify or suppress their own distinctive characteristics. 
 Partly owing to better acquaintance and improved under- 
 standing of each other's doctrines, and partly as a result 
 of criticism bringing to light the weak points of each, 
 there was a double movement going on, towards eclecti- 
 cism on the one side, as it began to be surmised that the 
 different schools presented different aspects of truth, and 
 towards scepticism on the other side, as it was felt that no 
 school could boast to have attained to absolute truth. 
 This natural tendency of speculative thought was further 
 assisted by the circumstances of the time, especially by 
 the rise of the Roman power and the growing intercourse 
 between Greece and Rome. To estimate the nature and 
 extent of this influence on the ulterior development of 
 philosophy, there are four points to be considered ; 
 (i) what new factors were supplied by Rome? or, to 
 express it differently, what were the distinguishing features 
 of the Roman intellect and character before it underwent 
 the process of Hellenizing? (2) through what channels 
 was this process carried on ? (3) what was the result as re- 
 gards the Romans ? (4) how did Rome react on Greece ? 
 As regards (i), if we compare a Roman or a 
 Sabine at the beginning cf the 3rd century B.C. with an 
 Athenian, we shall probably fmd the latter to be a 
 townsman, vain, flighty, impressible, excitable; tolerant 
 and liberal in opinion, and lax, not to say loose, in 
 morahty ; of ready and versatile talent, with a taste 
 for literature and art, and a natural fondness for dis- 
 cussion, ever seeking for novelty and amusement; demo- 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 207 
 
 cratic in politics, so far as, under the altered circum- 
 stances of Athens, he still retains any interest in politics ; 
 half sceptical, half superstitious and wholly inquisitive in 
 matters of religion. The former is the contrary of 
 all this, a dweller in the country, fond of home, proud, 
 stubborn, earnest, narrowly conservative, a stern moralist 
 and strict disciplinarian, scorning luxury and refinement, 
 and content to be guided in all things by the wisdom of 
 his ancestors, suspicious of ideas and rhetoric, indifferent 
 to all but practical considerations, aristocratic in politics, 
 with a deep-rooted belief in his traditional religion, as the 
 only foundation and safeguard of the fortune and the great- 
 ness of the city, for which he is at all times ready to sacrifice 
 his life\ The contrast was often com.mented on both by 
 Greeks and Romans. Thus Polybius in the middle of the 
 2nd century B.C. writes as follows, 'the great superiority 
 of the Romans lies in their religious belief: what is 
 blamed among other men is the foundation of their 
 power, I mean, superstition. They endeavour in every 
 way to heighten the imposing aspect of their religion {lux 
 Too-ovTov €KT€Tpaya)Sr;Tat) and to extend its influence over 
 the whole of life, both public and private. And this 
 seems to be done especially with a view to the common 
 people, for in a state consisting of wise men alone, 
 perhaps such a course would be less necessary. But as 
 the multitude is always frivolous, full of lawless passions 
 and senseless anger, nothing remains but to restrain 
 them by giving form and shape to the terrors of an unseen 
 world (rots a^T^Xots <j>6^ol<s koI rfi Toiavrrj T^aywS/a). Hence 
 
 it appears to me that the ancients had good reason for in- 
 
 ^ See the account of Cato the elder in Mommsen, Bk. III. ch. 13. 
 
,„8 ECLECTIClSyr. 
 
 troducing the beliefs in tlie gods and in the infernal 
 regions, and that it is a far less rational course to attempt 
 to f et rid of these beliefs as some are now domg. Phis is 
 sho^vn by the difficulty of securing honesty in public men 
 among the sceptical Greeks, in spite of every possible 
 precaution, while a Roman on his oath may safely be 
 entrusted with any amount of money'.' The next passage 
 is fiom Dionysius of Halicarnassus, a younger contem- 
 porary of Cicero. After enumerating the causes of national 
 prosperity, viz. ist the blessing of heaven, and 2ndly the 
 moral qualities of the citizens, their temperance, justice and 
 courage, and the habit of making honour, not pleasure, 
 the distinguishing mark of happiness, he praises the 
 wisdom of the founder of Rome in omitting from his 
 religious systev-n all that was immoral, useless or un- 
 seemly in the mythology of Greece; 'from whence, he 
 says 'it comes that in all their actions and words, which 
 have a reference to religious matters, the Romans show^a 
 devoutness not found among Greeks or barbarians-. 
 Compare with these passages Cicero's words, how- 
 ever highly we may think of ourselves, we must con- 
 fess th.at in many points we are inferior to otlier nations, 
 in bodily strength to the Gauls, in .art to the Greeks, 
 &c, but in piety and religion and the wisdom to see 
 that all things are directed by Divine Providence, we 
 are unquestionably the first.' 'I allow to the Greeks 
 literature, artistic training, genius, elegance, fluency; 1 
 make no objection to other claims which they may put 
 forward; but they have not, they never have had, .any 
 feeling of the sanctity of an oath, any scruple in regard 
 I In the above, I give the substance of Poljb. VI jfi. 
 * Dion, n 1 8, foil. 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 209 
 
 
 to the giving of evidence.' 'It is a nation made to de- 
 ceive: I am utterly weary of their frivohty, their flattery, 
 their time-serving and unconscientious character.' 'It is 
 wonderful how they are delighted with trifles which we 
 despise'.' 
 
 Our next business is to trace tlie growth of the 
 connexion between Rome and Greece, for which the 
 following dates will supply the most important land- 
 marks; but it must not be forgotten that the ground-work 
 of this connexion is to be found in the intercourse which 
 subsisted from a very early period between Rome and 
 the Greek cities of Southern Italy, such as Cumae, Nea- 
 polis, and Tarentum. 
 
 B.C. 281. War with Pyrrhus. 
 
 250—150. Rise of a Hellenized literature in Rome 
 represented by such names as Livius Andronicus (flrst 
 play 240 B.C.), Plautus d. 1S4, Ennius d. 169, Terence d 
 159- 
 
 228. First Roman embassy to Greece. Ambassa- 
 dors admitted to the Isthmian games and the Eleusinian 
 mysteries. 
 
 213. War between Rome and Philip of Macedon. 
 
 196. Overthrow of Macedon at Cynosce])halae. 
 Declaration of the independence of Greece at the 
 Isthmian games in the following year by the philhellene 
 Flamininus. 
 
 191. War with Antiochus. 
 
 168. Final conquest of Macedon by Paullus Aemi- 
 
 1 See Cic. Harusp, Re^p. § 19, Pro Flacco 9, i r, ad Q. Fr. i. 2, § 2, 
 and compare the well-known lines in Hor. Od. iii. 6, beginninir Dis 
 te minorcm quod geris w^peras, and the still more famous lines from 
 the 6th Aeneid 848, foil, excudent alii spirantia mollius aera, also Ju- 
 venal Sat. 111. 60-80 non possum fa-re, Quiritcs, Graecam urhem. &c. 
 M. P. 
 
 14 
 
 I 
 
2IO ECLECTICISM. 
 
 lius. One thousand Achaeans carried to Rome in the 
 following year: among them the historian Polybms. 
 
 146. Fall of Carthage. Corinth taken by Mummms. 
 Greece made into the Roman province of Achaia. 
 
 For an account of the social and literary inOuence of 
 Greece on Rome, the reader is referred to Mommsen's 
 History of Rome Bk. in. chapters 13 and 14. I must 
 content mvself here with a few remarks on the special 
 influence of Greek philosophy\ I'his is first seen m the 
 poet Knnius, who appears to have rationalized the 
 national religion in two directions, 1st, by physical and 
 allegorical explanations in his Epicharmus, and 2ndly 
 by a so-called 'pragmatical' or historical explanation, m 
 his translation of the Sacred History of Euhemerus, in 
 which Jupiter and the rest of the Gods were represented 
 as ancient kings or other historical personages, who had 
 been deified by their descendants. His free-thinking is 
 also shown in the Unes quoted from one of his tragedies : 
 Es,o daun genus esse semper dixi et dicam caelifum, 
 Sed eos non curare ofinor quid agat humanum gruus ; 
 Nam, si curent, bene bonis sit, male malis, quod nunc abcst. 
 
 In 181 B.C. an attempt was made to add to what may 
 be called the canonical books of Rome, certain spurious 
 writings, said to have been discovered in the tomb of 
 Numa, containing a sort of Pythagorean philosophy of 
 religion. These were burnt by order of the Senate as 
 likely to disturb the faith of their readers. Further 
 evidence of the growing influence of philosophy may 
 
 1 For what follows, see Marquardt Romische Staatsz-erxvaltung, 
 vol. VI. pp. 1—80; Preller Romische Mythologie\ Benjamin 
 Constant Du PolytJmsme Romain ; Havet Le Christianisme et ses 
 OrigineSy Vol. Ii. 
 
 \ 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 211 
 
 be seen in the decree of the senate made in 161 B.C. by 
 which philosophers and rhetoricians were forbidden to 
 reside in Rome, and still more in the interest excited by 
 the Athenian embassy in the year 156 B.C. The object 
 of the embassy was to induce the Romans to remit 
 or reduce a fine whicli had been im})osed upon the 
 Athenians for plundering Oropus ; and the fiict that the 
 leaders of the three schools which stood highest in public 
 estimation, the Academic Carneades, the Peripatetic 
 Critolaus and the Stoic Diogenes, were selected as am- 
 bassadors, not only shows the confidence which their 
 fellow-citizens had in their powers of oratory, but also 
 implies a belief, as Cicero has remarked, that their 
 philosophy would not be unacceptable in Rome\ Accord- 
 ingly we are told that the envoys found there numerous 
 patrons and admirers, and that, while their cause was 
 pending in the senate, each of them, but especially Car- 
 neades, drew crowds of the young nobility to their private 
 exhibitions of philosophical rhetoric. Cato was deeply dis- 
 pleased and alarmed by the reports he heard of the fasci- 
 nation they were exerting on the Roman youth : and cen- 
 sured the magistrates for allow^ing men, who had the power 
 of making the worst doctrines seem probable, to wait 
 so long for the dispatch of their business. It seems that 
 Carneades had shocked the moral sense of Rome by 
 arguing on one day in favour of justice, and the next day 
 taking the opposite side and citing the greatness of Rome 
 itself as a proof that justice was impracticable, since it 
 would necessitate the Romans giving back their conquests 
 and returning to their primitive huts. Cicero tells 
 another anecdote of the embassy on the authority of 
 
 * Tusc. IV. 5. 
 
 14 — 2 
 
 "^■(SW¥WW!^''& 
 
I 
 
 212 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 Clitomachus, the pupil of Carneades. The praetor Albi- 
 nus having asked, 4s it true, Carneades, that you hold me 
 to be no praetor, because I am not wise, and this city to 
 be no city?' 'It is not I, who thinks so,' replied Car- 
 neades, 'but this Stoic here,' poindng to Diogenes'. Cicero 
 dates the commencement of the study of philosophy in 
 Rome from this embassy, and there is no doubt that 
 from this time forward we constantly find Greek philo- 
 sophers resident in Rome, cither as tutors of youth or as 
 inmates of great houses, domestic chaplains, as they have 
 been called, and on the other hand that it became the 
 practice for Romans who were ambitious of literary or 
 oratorical distinction to attend lectures at Athens and the 
 other seats of Greek philosophy. The earliest and most 
 famous philosophical coterie in Rome was that of which 
 Panaetius was the centre, including such names as the 
 younger Africanus, with whom he resided, Laelius, Tubero, 
 Q. Mucius Scaevola, and many others^ 
 
 AVe have next to consider what was the effect on the 
 Romans of this influx of Greek philosophy. We may 
 probably say that, in the first instance, it was not unlike 
 the eftect of the Sophistic rhetoric on the Athenians in the 
 days of Socrates. It was welcomed as promising new light 
 when people were beginning to feel that there was great 
 need for light, and as providing new powers just at the 
 time when\he field for the use of those powers was im- 
 mensely widened. The old religion, which had stood the 
 Romans in good stead, as we have seen, while they were 
 still a struggling Italian tribe, was after all little better than 
 a mere ceremonial drill, which fostered religious awe and 
 deepened the sense of duty, but supplied no food for 
 1 Cic. Acad, IT. 137, Titsc. iv. 5. =^ See Zeller, pp. 535* 548, 571. 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 213 
 
 i 
 
 thought or imagination; the Gods whom it taught them 
 to worship were objects of fear, not of veneration or love, 
 and the worship which it inculcated was not Socrates' 
 prayer of mingled trust and resignation, not the sponta- 
 neous expression of gratitude or repentance, but the use 
 of certain rites and formulas, now generally felt to be 
 irrational or unintelligible, by the mechanical repetition 
 of which it was asserted that the will of the Gods might be 
 ascertained, their wrath averted, or their favour secured. 
 Already the faith in the old religion had been seriously 
 undermined'. It was no longer a secret that it was em- 
 ployed as a political engine by the magistrates ; and the 
 introduction of various foreign deities, of Cybele, of 
 Bacchus, of Isis, showed that even among the multitude 
 a more full-blooded religion was wanted, that the religious 
 instinct could no longer be satisfied with the old dreary 
 round of lifeless ceremonial. In this state of things the 
 first effect of philosophy was to open men's eyes to that 
 of which they had been dimly conscious before ; and hence 
 it was, as Cicero tells us, that the common opinion iden- 
 tified philosophy with unbelief*. 
 
 But, however it might be with the other sects, it was 
 never the aim of Stoicism to overthrow a traditional 
 religion, but rather to purify and strengthen it. And so 
 we find the Poniifex, Mucins Scaevola, in accordance 
 with the principles of his master Panaetius, distinguishing 
 between three different theologies, that of the poets, that 
 of the philosophers, and that of the magistrates: the first 
 
 1 It was Cato, the great opponent of philosophy, who wondered 
 how one soothsayer {haruspex) could meet another without laughing, 
 Cic. Divin. II. 51. 
 
 2 Cic. De Invent. § 46. 
 
214 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 he said was altogether unwortliy of belief, the second was 
 true, but not suited to the multitude,— for instance it was 
 not expedient to proclaim openly that the images did not 
 really resemble the Gods after whom they were named, 
 since the true God was without sex or age and had no 
 resemblance to the form of man,— the third ought to be 
 such an approach to the truth as the magistrates thought 
 the people were capable of receiving. The same idea was 
 developed with more fulness by Cicero's friend the anti- 
 quarian Varro, in his famous work on the religious anti- 
 quities of Rome, where he distinctly states that his object 
 in writing it was to revive a decaying worship'. He classi- 
 fies the ahuost countless deities of the Roman pantheon, 
 as different manifestations or functions of the one self- 
 existent God, whom he even compares with the (^od of the 
 Jews^ He regrets that the use of images, unknown for 
 170 years after the founding of the city, had ever been 
 introduced, and says that, if he had had to do with the 
 first establishment of religion in Rome he would have 
 kept more closely to the religion of nature as understood 
 
 by the philosophers. 
 
 It may be doubted however whether the well-meant 
 efforts of Varro and others were really successful in their 
 object. Granting that the effect of philosophy was on 
 the whole to elevate and improve the moral and religious 
 ideal of the few who were capable of receiving it, we 
 have to set against this the demoralizing tendency of 
 Epicureanism, as vulgarly understood, and the general 
 
 1 August. C. D. IV. 31, adeumfinem ilia scribere se dicit Varro 
 utptins deos magis colere quam dcspicere vulgus velit. 
 
 2 Au<i. de Cons. Evang. I. 22, 41, cited by Dollinger, and de 
 Civ. Z?« iv.31. 
 
 ECLECTICISM 
 
 215 
 
 unsettling of belief which was encouraged by the nega- 
 tive criticism of the Academy. Even the teaching of the 
 Stoics, though it set before the more educated classes an 
 object which they could feel to be worthy of their venera- 
 tion and worship, and thus effected for them a recon- 
 ciliation between reason and religion; and though it 
 confirmed the old Roman ideas as to the essential con- 
 nexion between national prosperity and religion; yet, so 
 far as it affected in any way the mass of the people, it 
 can only have acted as a solvent of the popular belief 
 Religion is in danger of being degraded into a matter of 
 political expediency, when it is left to the magistrates to 
 determine what the people are to believe: indeed we 
 find Cicero, when he writes as an Academic, appealing 
 more than once to expediency as the sole or the chiet 
 ground for religious belief; and this was also, according 
 to Dion Cassius, the avowed principle of the religious 
 reforms carried out by Augustus and dutifully hymned by 
 the Augustan poets \ But all experience, from the time of 
 Augustus to that of Napoleon, shows that the attempt to 
 retain religion simply as an instrument of police can never 
 succeed; without belief it is too weak to be of service; 
 with belief it is too powerful; and the mere suspicion 
 that it is so used deprives it of its natural force, and arms 
 against it the honesty and the conscience of the nation. 
 
 Passing out of the religious sphere we find two main 
 applications of philosophy among the Romans, two 
 advantages which they expected to gain from the study of 
 
 1 See Cic. Divin. 11. 70 retinetur et ad opinionein vulgi et ad 
 mamas utilitatcs reipublicae mos, religio, disciplina, jus aiigurium, 
 coiiegii auctoritas, and Dion. Cass. Lli. 36, where Maecenas recom- 
 mends the maintenance of the national religion and the prohibition 
 of strange rites as the best protection against political revolution or 
 conspiracy. 
 
■■-tftifgaww^r'-.'o^" 
 
 216 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 philosophy. The one is subordinate and superficial, the 
 training in oratory to which Cicero so often refers. The 
 youthful aspirant to the honours of the forum and the 
 senate may learn from the philosopher how to arrange 
 the topics of his speech, how to marshal his argu- 
 ments, how to work on the passions of his audience, and 
 to give colour and elevation to his style by the purple 
 patches borrowed from the great masters of Athenian elo- 
 quence and wisdom. Above all, the Academic school will 
 teach him to see both sides of a question, to find argu- 
 ments /r^ and con in regard to any subject which may be 
 brought before him'. But the chief use of philosophy is 
 to be the school of virtue, the guide of life, both the com- 
 mon life of the State and the private life of the individual, 
 and to afford the only consolations in the hour of weak- 
 ness and sorrow-. How it was to answer this purpose, 
 is shown by Cicero in his various practical treatises on 
 
 1 Cic. De Oral. I. 53, 60, 87, Tiisc. 11. 9, Orator, % 12, Paradox. 
 
 pief., Dc Fato 3. 
 
 2 Cicero often speaks of the benefits conferred by philosophy as 
 a Christian might speak of the benefits conferred by religion, 
 compare Titsc. V. 5, vitioriim feccatorumqtie nostronim omnis a 
 fhilosophia petenda corredio est, ...O vitae philosophia dux ! O virt li- 
 tis indagatrix, expultrixqtie vitionnnl quid non modo nos, scd 
 cmnitw vita hcmiuum sine te esse potiiissetL..Ad te confugivius ; a te 
 ot^cm petimiiS...Est autrm vtius dies bene ex praeccptis tuis actus 
 feccanti imtnortalitati anteponcndus. See also Horace Ep. I. i. 36, 
 laitdis amore tnmcs? sunt ccrta piaciila quae te tcr pure lecto poteriint 
 recreare libcllo, &-'c. ; Varro ap. Cell. xv. 19, *if you had bestowed 
 on philosophy a tenth part of the pains that you have taken to get 
 good bread, you would long ago have been a good man.' On the 
 other hand Nepos {ap. Lact. III. 15 § 10) is so far from ascribing 
 such good effects to philosophy, that he says none need to be reformed 
 more than the philosophers themselves. See Juv. III. 116 Stoicus 
 occidit Bar cam, <^c. 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 217 
 
 Duty, on Fiiendship, on Old age, on Law, on the State, 
 as well as, no doubt, in the lost Hortensius, which 
 first inflamed St Augustine with the love of heavenly 
 wisdom', and in the Consolatio, by the composition 
 of which he vainly endeavoured to soothe the bitter 
 sorrow caused by the death of his beloved Tullia. 
 
 To turn now from tlie taught to the teacher, it is easy 
 to understand that the change from a class of keen-wntted 
 but somewhat frivolous Greeks, — who looked upon phi- 
 losophy as an intellectual amusement, and thought of 
 eloquence merely as an exhibition of skill in the use of 
 the technicalities of rhetoric, by means of which to win 
 the applause of the theatre or the lecture-room, — to the 
 proud and serious Roman, who sought for eloquence as a 
 mighty engine by which to mould the destinies of Rome 
 and of the nations which she held in subjection, and 
 listened eagerly to the words of the professor in the ex- 
 pectation of hearing something which would make him a 
 wiser and a better man, show him what his duty was and 
 give him strength to do it, — it is easy to see that this could 
 not but react upon the teacher himself, and, if it did not 
 awaken a corresponding earnestness in his own mind, yet 
 would at least make it clear to him that speculative subtle- 
 ties and controversial minutiae'* would be thrown away, 
 
 ^ Confess, ill. 4, ille liber mutavit affectum fneutn, et ad te ipstim, 
 Domine, mutavit preces vieas. Viluit rcpente viihi omnis vana spes, 
 et immortalitatcm sapientiae concupiscebam aestii cordis incredibili ; 
 et sm-gcre cceperam ut ad te redirem. 
 
 - Compare the amusing story told of the proconsul Gellius 
 (Cic. Leg. 1.53). On his arrival in Athens he called together the philo- 
 sophers and urged them at last to put an end to their disputes, 
 offering his assistance as umpire, if they were unable to settle 
 matters peaceably without him. 
 
 
2l8 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 and that the plainer his teaching was, and the less he 
 deviated from common sense and common morality, the 
 more likely he was to recommend himself to the pupils, 
 from he had most to gain in the shape of honours and 
 emoluments. 
 
 We have seen that the Stoic Panaetius was the first 
 teacher who obtained any influence over the Romans : 
 can we find in him any trace of the re-action of which we 
 have spoken? If the Romans had made their acquaint- 
 ance with Stoicism through Cleanthes, who was so 
 genuinely Roman in character, they might have been 
 satisfied to accept his doctrine in its integrity; but since 
 then the system had undergone the manipulation of that 
 subtle doctor of the Schools, the learned and ingenious 
 Chrysippus, inventor of those thorny syllogisms of which 
 Cicero so often complains. Comparing him with Panaetius, 
 we find the latter softening down the severity of the Stoics 
 in many particulars. Thus he adopted a more easy and 
 natural style of writing, and spoke with warm admiration 
 of philosophers belonging to other schools, especially of 
 Plato, whom he called the Homer of philosophers'. He 
 abandoned the Stoic belief in a cyclical conflagration, for 
 the Aristotelian doctrine of the eternity of the world, 
 and mitigated the austerity of the old view on the aSta- 
 <^opa and the necessity of dTrdOeia. In his treatise on 
 Duty, which formed the model of Cicero's De officiis , 
 
 1 Cic. Tusc. I. 79, cf. Fin. IV. 79 {Stoiconini) tristitiam atqiie 
 asperitatem fugiens Panacliiis ncc acerbitatem sentcntianim nee 
 disserendi spinas probavit, ftiitqtie in altera gcnere mitior, in altera 
 illustrior.semperquehabmt in ore Platonem, Aristotelem, Xenocratem, 
 Theophrastum, Dicaearchiim, ut ipsius scripta declarant; also Off. 
 II. 35 and Acad. II. 135. 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 219 
 
 he addressed himself not to the wise, but to those who 
 were seeking wisdom; and spoke not of perfect duties 
 (KaTop^w/xara) but of the officia media (KaOyJKoi'To) which 
 ordinary people need not despair of fulfilling. Lastly in 
 respect to Divination he forsook the tradition of his 
 school, which had always been disposed to regard this as 
 an important evidence of divine agency, and followed 
 the sceptical line of the Academy. 
 
 The eclectic character imprinted on the Porch by 
 Panaetius was never obliterated, but rather became more 
 marked in later writers such as Seneca and Marcus 
 Aurelius. Our limits however do not permit us to speak 
 of more than his immediate pupil Posidonius the Syrian, 
 a man of great and varied learning, much esteemed by 
 the Romans, many of whom attended his lectures at 
 Rhodes. Among the number were Pompeius and Cicero, 
 who calls him the greatest of the Stoics \ In regard to 
 divination and the eternity of the world Posidonius went 
 back to the old Stoic view, but in his unsectarian tone 
 he is a faithful follower of Panaetius. He endeavoured 
 to show that the opposition between the difi"erent 
 systems of philosophy, far from justifying the sceptical 
 conclusion, was not inconsistent with a real harmony 
 upon the most important points. In regard to psycho- 
 logy his views were more in accordance with Plato and 
 Aristotle than with Chrysippus. Finding it impossible 
 to explain the passions as morbid conditions of the 
 reason, he fell back on the old division into the rational 
 and irrational parts of the soul, and was followed in this 
 by the later Stoics. 
 
 1 Ilortens. Frag. 36 (Orelli) ; so Seneca^/. XC. 10 Posidonius, ut 
 meafert opinio, ex his qui plurimum philcsophiae contulerunU 
 
220 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 Amoni^ the Roman contemporaries of Cicero we need 
 only mentbn Cato, as typical both of the weakness and 
 the stren-th of the school, which in after years beheld m 
 him the truest pattern of the sage, standing on the same 
 level with Hercules or Ulysses \ Yet for him, as for all 
 these later Stoics, it was Plato rather than Zeno, or at any 
 rate not less than Zeno, who was the dcus philosophonm, 
 the fountain of inspiration to the Porch as niuch as to 
 the Academy, of which we have next to speak'. 
 
 Philo of Larissa, the disciple and successor of Clito- 
 machus, took refuge in Rome during the Mithridatic war 
 (B c. 88) and lectured there with great applause. While 
 maintaining the position of Carneades against the Stoics, 
 he declared that it was a mistake to suppose that the 
 Academy denied the possibility of arriving at truth. 
 Concealed underneath their negative polemic, the teach- 
 ing of Plato had always survived as an esoteric doctrine ; 
 there was no ground therefore for the distinction between 
 the New and Old Academy ; they were really the same, 
 though the exigencies of controversy had for a while 
 tended to obscure the positive side of their teaching, and 
 thus led to a change of name. It was true, as against 
 the Stoics, that irresistible evidence could not be derived 
 from sensible perception, but the soul itself contains 
 clear ideas on which we may safely act^ 
 
 The most important representative of Eclecticism is 
 Antiochus of Ascalon, who studied under Mnesarchus, a 
 scholar of Panaetius, as well as under Philo, whom he 
 
 1 Seneca Dc Const. Ii. i. 
 
 2 Cic. N. D. II. 3^' Ad Att. iv. i6. 
 
 3 This account of rhilo is taken from Zcller III. i, pp. 
 
 588-596^. 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 221 
 
 succeeded as he.d of the Academy. Cicero who attended 
 his lectures at Athen's 79 b.c. calls him the most polished 
 and acute of the philosophers of his time, and professes 
 that he had ever loved him'. Antiochus was not satisfied 
 with reverting to Plato, as Philo had done ; he declared 
 that the so-called New Academy of Arccsilaus and Carnea- 
 des had not simply allowed the Platonic doctrines to 
 fall into the background, but had altogether departed 
 from them ; and the object which he set before himself 
 was to show that scepticism was self-contradictory 
 and impossible. If it is impossible to know what is true, 
 it must be impossible to know what is like the truth : 
 thus the natural instinct of curiosity is stultified and 
 action becomes irrational. How can the Sceptics them- 
 selves learn tlie certainty of their first principle ml pcraftJ 
 how assert the falsehood of this or that proposition, 
 while they maintain that it is impossible to distinguish 
 between truth and falsehood? how pretend to arrive at 
 truth by argument, while they deny the pnnciple on 
 which all argument is based? Like Posidonius, Antio- 
 chus affirmed the real agreement of the orthodox schools: 
 the difference between Plato, Aristotle and Zeno was in 
 the main a difference in the mode of expressing a common 
 truth Thus in regard to the theory of knowledge, all 
 hold 'that sensation is the first element in knowledge, but 
 that it is only by the exercise of reason that it is changed 
 into knowledge. So in Physics, all are agreed that there 
 are two natures, active and passive, force and matter 
 which are always found in combination^ Not to dwell 
 on the vague and confused statements ascribed by 
 Cicero to Antiochus under tliis head, I pass on to h.s 
 ethical doctrines. Starting with the Stoic prima naturae, 
 
 . . J ^ 2 j^-ad. I. 23. 
 
 1 Acaii. 11. 1 13. 
 
222 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 but enlarging their scope so as to take in not only all that 
 belon-s to self-preservation, but the ruchments of virtue 
 and knowledge also, and defining the Simmum Bonum as a 
 life in accordance with the perfect nature of man, Antiochus 
 includes under this, not only the perfection of reason, but 
 all bodily and external good. Virtue in itself suftices for 
 happiness, as the Stoics said, but not for the highest happi- 
 ness • here we must borrow a little from the Peripatetics ; 
 though they err in allowing too much weight to external 
 good, as the Stoics err in the opposite direction. The Stoics 
 are ri^ht in their high estimate of the Sage as being alone 
 free and rich and beautiful, all others being slaves and 
 fools • they are right in esteeming apathy, the absolute 
 suppression of emotion, as essential to virtue; but they 
 have gone wrong in affirming the equality of sins. 
 
 It is difficult to form any clear systematic conception 
 of Antiochus' teaching from the existing evidence; if it 
 was really as loose and inconsistent as it would seem from 
 Zeller's account, it only adds greater significance to the 
 fact that from that time forward the Academy entirely 
 loses its old sceptical character. The spirit of the age 
 must evidently have been working strongly m favour of 
 eclecticism, when Antiochus became the most influential 
 of teachers, and the Fifth Academy could count among 
 its members such names as those of Varro and Brutus 
 and to a certain extent even Cicero himself. We shall 
 be able to understand this better, if we realize to our- 
 selves the position of the small band of philosophical 
 enthusiasts in Rome. They were conscious that their 
 own lives had gained in largeness of view, in dignity and in 
 strength, from the study of philosophy ; but all around 
 them were the rude mass, the hircosa gens centurtonum 
 with their guod sapio satis est mihi, jeering at the endless 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 223 
 
 di'.putes of the schools ; and thus the natural instinct 
 of self-preservauon impelled them to strengthen them- 
 selves by the re-union of philosophy, just as in our own 
 days the same motive may be seen in aspirations after 
 the re-union of Christendom. 
 
 Before speaking in detail of the Romans, we must 
 say a word as to the signs of eclecticism in the two 
 remaining schools. It has been mentioned that the 
 activity of the later Peripatetics was mainly of the com- 
 mentatorial kind, but, in the spurious treatise De Miindo, 
 which is included in the works of Aristotle, but was 
 probably written in the middle of the ist century B.C., we 
 find a decided admixture of Stoic elements, especially 
 where it treats of the action of the Deity on the world. 
 Again, even among the Epicureans, in spite of their 
 hostility to the other schools and their own proverbial 
 conservatism, we have already noticed a departure from 
 tlie teaching of their founder, in the writings of Philodemus 
 and others, ist as regards the greater importance attri- 
 buted to art and science and literature', 2ndly in the recog- 
 nition, to a greater or less extent, of a Divine government 
 of the world', srdly in the abandonment of the old cynical 
 repudiation of higher motives. Cicero tells us that this 
 was especially the case in regard to the relation between 
 bodily and mental pleasure, and to the selfish theory of 
 friendships 
 
 1 See above, p. 184, n. 3. ' See above, p. 199, n. 2. 
 
 3 Cic. Fin. I. 55 'there are many Epicureans who think erro- 
 neously that mental pleasure need not be dependent on bodily 
 pleasure;' §69 'there are some weak brethren among the Epicu- 
 reans who are ashamed to confess that our own pleasure is the sole 
 ground of friendship;' compare Hirzel /. c. p. 168 foil, and my note 
 on N. D. I. III. 
 
224 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 The four last mentioned schools, i.e. the Academy, 
 the Lyceum, the Porch and the Garden were, and had 
 long been, the only recognized schools at the time when 
 Cicero was growing up to manhood. Cicero was personally 
 acquainted with the most distinguished living representa- 
 tives of each. In his 19th year, b. c. 88, he had studied 
 under Phaedrus the Epicurean and Philo the Academic 
 at Rome; in his 28th year, B.C. 79, he attended the 
 lectures of the Epicureans Phaedrus and Zeno, as well as 
 of Antiochus, the eclectic Academic, at Athens, and in 
 the following year those of Posidonius, the eclectic Stoic, 
 at Rhodes. Diodotus the Stoic was for many years the 
 honoured inmate of his house. He had also a high 
 esteem for the Peripatetic Cratippus, whom he selected 
 as the tutor for his son at, what we may call, the Uni- 
 versity of Athens. Nor did he only attend lectures ; 
 his letters show that he was a great reader of philo- 
 sophical books, and he left behind him translations or 
 adaptations of various dialogues and treatises of Plato, 
 Aristotle, Theophrastus, Crantor, Carneades, Panaetius, 
 Antiochus, Posidonius and others'. In a word he was 
 1 He translated the Occonomicus of Xenophon and the Pro- 
 tagoras and Timaeus of Plato, whom he also imitates in the Le^^cs 
 and Respnhlica. The last is in part borrowed from Aristotle's 
 Politics. Other treatises in which he follows Aristotle are the 
 Hortmsius, probably written on the model of Aristotle's TrporpeTr- 
 ri.Kb%, and the Tofica, professedly a reminiscence of Aristotle's 
 treatise bearing the same name. The Laditis is said to be founded 
 on the Trepl 0tXtas of Theophrastus ; the Consolation:^?, mainly taken 
 from Grantor's irepi i^ivdov^; but the materials for the great majority 
 of his books are derived from Panaetius, Posidonius, Clitomachus 
 and Antiochus, when he is treating of the orthodox schools, and 
 probably from Zeno, Phaedrus or Philodemus. where he gives the 
 Epicurean doctrines. 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 225 
 
 confessed to be by far the most accomplished of the 
 philosophical amateurs of his time. 
 
 As to the nature of his own views, we shall be better 
 able to form a judgment, if we look first at the man and 
 his position. Cicero was much more ot a modern Italian 
 than of an ancient Roman. A noviis homo, sprung from 
 the Volscian municipiiim of Arpinum, he had none of that 
 proud, self-centred hardness and toughness of character 
 which marked the Senator of Rome. Nature had gifted 
 him with the sensitive, idealistic temperament of the artist 
 and the orator, and this had been trained to its highest 
 pitch by the excellent education he had received. If he 
 had been less open to ideas, less many-sided, less sympa- 
 thetic, less conscientious, in a word, if he had been less 
 human, he would have been a worse man, he would have 
 exercised a less potent influence on the future of Western 
 civilization, but he would have been a stronger and more 
 consistent politician, more respected no doubt by the 
 blood-and-iron school of his own day, as of ours. While 
 his imagination pictured to him the glories ot old Rome 
 and inflamed him with the ambition of himself acting 
 a Roman part, as in the matter of Catiline, and in his 
 judgment of Caesar, and while therefore he on the 
 whole espoused the cause of the Senate, as representing 
 the historic greatness of Rome, yet he is never fully 
 convinced in his own mind, never satisfied ehher with 
 himself or with the party or the persons with whom he 
 
 is most closely allied. 
 
 And this indecision of his political views is reflected 
 
 in his philosophy. Epicureanism indeed he condemns, 
 
 as heartily as he condemns Clodius or Antony: its 
 
 want of idealism, its prosaic regard for matter of fact, 
 
 M. P. ^ 5 
 
226 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 or rather its exclusive regard for the lower fact to the 
 neglect of the higher, its aversion to public life, above 
 all, perhaps, its contempt for literature, as such, were 
 odious in his eyes. But neither is its rival quite to 
 his taste. While attracted by the lofty tone of its 
 moral and religious teaching, he is repelled by its dog- 
 matism, its extravagance and its technicalities. Of the 
 two remaining schools, the Peripatetic had forgotten the 
 more distinctive portion of the teaching of its founder, 
 until his writings were re-edited by Andronicus of Rhodes 
 (wlio strangely enough is never mentioned by Cicero, 
 tliough he must have been lecturing about the time 
 of his consulship), and it had dwindled accordingly 
 into a colourless doctrine of common sense, of which 
 Cicero speaks with respect, indeed, but without enthu- 
 siasm. The Academy on the other hand was endeared 
 to him as being lineally descended from Plato, for whose 
 sublime idealism and consummate beauty of style he 
 cherished an admiration little short of idolatry, and also 
 as being the least dogmatic of systems, and the most 
 helpful to the orator from the importance it attached to 
 the use of negative dialectic. 
 
 In the Academica Cicero declares himself to be an 
 adherent of the New Academy, as opposed to the reformed 
 ♦Old Academy' of Antiochus; but though he makes use 
 of the ordinary sceptical arguments, he is scarcely more 
 serious in his profession of agnosticism, than his professed 
 pattern, the Platonic Socrates, is in his irony. All that 
 he is anxious for is to defend himself from being tied 
 down too definitely to any one system, and to protest 
 against the overbearing dogmatism of the Stoics, or 
 of such Old Academics as the strong-willed Brutus. He 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 "■ 
 
 
 227 
 
 is fond of boasting of' the freedom of his school, which 
 permits him to advocate whatever doctrine takes his 
 fancy at the time ; and, like Dr Johnson, he refuses to 
 be bound by any reference to previous inconsistent 
 utterances'. He even tries to make out that the scep- 
 tical arguments of Carneades w^ere only meant to rouse 
 men from the slumber of thoughtless acquiescence, and 
 to lead them to judge of the truth of doctrines by reason 
 and not by authority". Even in the Academica, the 
 scepticism which he professes is hardly more than verbal. 
 Let Antiochus consent to use the ttxm probare instead of 
 percipere or assent iri, let him adopt the courteous 'per- 
 haps' {ijx^lov or lo-ws) of Aristotle, and there seems no 
 reason why the discussion should continue any longerl 
 Cicero has himself no real doubt as to the trustworthi- 
 ness of the evidence of the bodily senses ; and, beyond 
 this sensible evidence, he recognizes a higher source of 
 knowledge in the mind itself. Accepting, as he does, 
 the Platonic and Stoic doctrine of the divine origin of the 
 soul, he believes that it has in itself the seeds of virtue 
 and knowledge, which would grow up to maturity of 
 themselves, if it were not for the corrupting influences of 
 society. We may see the unsophisticated working of 
 nature in children; we may hear the voice of nature in the 
 general consent of mankind, in the judgment of the wise 
 and good, and above all in the teaching of old tradition 
 handed down from our ancestors*. It is this natural 
 
 1 Ttisc. V. 33, Off. III. 20, N. D. I. 47. 
 ^ N. D. I. 4, 10. 
 3 Acad. II. 99, 112, Fin. V. 76. 
 
 * Tusc. III. 2 sunt enimingeniisnostris seminainnataviriutuvi; 
 quae si adolescere liceret, ipsa nosad beatam vitam naiura perducerei ; 
 
 15—2 
 
228 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 CICERO, 
 
 229 
 
 revelation {,,alu,ae lumen) which shows us the excellency 
 of virtue, the dignity and freedom of man, and the 
 existenceof a Divine Being'. . ' jj 
 
 But though nature gives us light, so far as is needed 
 for action and for life, it does not satisfy our curiosity on 
 speculative matters : it does not tell us, for instance, 
 what is the form or the abode of the Ucity, or whether 
 the soul is material or immaterial. Cicero however 
 believes, in common with all but the Epicureans, that Cod 
 is eternal, all-wise, all-powerful and all-good ; he believes 
 with Plato and the Stoics that the world was formed and 
 is providentially governed by Him for the good of man ; 
 he believes, in accordance with Plato but in opposition 
 to the Stoics, that God is pure Spirit'; and he thinks that 
 /•/„ V. to UialHva Itommi) .Mil lakm mc„U-m p.aeo,,wcmvirl„t,m 
 
 ma.imaL> ct guasi i,,Muit docerc cl rnJuxU ,» ca q,u^,n.,a>t 
 ta,,.,ua,n dancUa ^'irlulis ; ib. v. 6. inJkanl fum, m qmhn, ul m 
 Jculis, uanua an,U,.r ; /<^. 1. ^4 <"'-'>••'" '"' "^;:^;;";,, 
 adco...cx q.-o clfuilur illud, «t is «s,wuat da.m, p„ u»Je0,lus s.l 
 ,.u,H n-corddur ac nouat ; T,nc. 1. 3., onmium ««..««« naturae vx 
 est; ib. 1. 65, ;o, V. ;o. Comol. fr. 6, Dc 1-ato . j foil. , 7«sc. iv 6,. ,9- 
 > ruse. 1. .7. 30, 66. K.P. VI. .3. Us. I. 5? q'n se ,pse «ont 
 primum aliquid « haben sculid divinum, iugcmumquc ,« sesuum 
 \icut simulacrum aliquod dicatum futabit, lantoque muucrc deorum 
 semper diqnum aliquid dfadd d sentid c- iutdligd quern admodum 
 a natura subornalus in zitam veuerit, quautaquc instrummta habeat 
 ad abtinendam adip.seeudamque sapieuliam, quoniam prme.p.c rcrum 
 omnium quasi adumbratas intelhse«'i<" '«>"'•> "' '""'" ">»"P"-"' 
 .,uibus illustratis sapientia duce bonum virum d ob eam ,psam 
 causam cental se bca turn fore. 
 
 2 Tusc. I. 70, iV. /?. I. 60. 
 
 3 Tusc, I. 66 nee vera deus ipse qui intellegihir a nobis aho mode 
 intdlcsi potest, nisi mens soluta quaedam et Itbera, segregataab omm 
 eoncretione mortali. omnia sentiens et mozens ipsaque praedita molu 
 
 \ 
 
 the same is true also of the soul, which is an emanation 
 from Him and which, *as we have been taught by 
 our ancestors, and as Plato and Xenophon have shown 
 by many excellent arguments, » is destined to enjoy 
 a blissful immortality in the case of the wise and good . 
 Perhaps that which has most weight with Cicero is 
 the practical consideration, 'if we give up our faith m an 
 over-rulin- Providence, we cannot hope to retain any 
 genuine piety or religion ; and if these go, justice and 
 faith and all that binds together human society, must go 
 too' ' He is also fully convinced that reverence is due 
 to what is old and long established, and that it is the 
 duty of a good citi/en to conform to the established 
 church, to accept the tenets of the national religion and 
 obsen4 its customs, except «o fir as ihcy might 1)C incon- 
 sistent with the plain rules of morality, or bo (Ingninlly 
 opposed to reason as to come under the head of supersti- 
 tion Thus, while he is himself a disbeliever in divina- 
 tion, and argues convincingly against it in his book on the 
 subject, yet"; as a state.sman, he approves the punishment 
 of certain consuls who had disregarded th€ au^:picc9. 
 *They ought,' he says, 'to have sul)mitted to the rule of 
 the established religion. - He cannot approve of the m- 
 
 sempiterno; Rep. vi. .6 foil. Vet he <1<>ch not nUc,:cd>cr .la»y ihc 
 Ability of the Stoic view, that God in of a r.c., OT ctl^cl 
 
 nature, Tusc. \. 65. 
 
 1 Tusc. I. 70, Lael. I3t C<sl9 -7 fott. 
 
 « See A. D. i. 4 with the ya^.j^w ot«<S In myiit..c. m. i^i.-<r. 
 
 "* '^'Divin. u. 71 parenduv, /mK rtl^mi. »»^ f^fritii mfM 
 contumaciterrepudiandus. ai>3 juv. Ixfore. '''''^!''/'ff!f^^ 
 vtilgi et ad nmgnas utilitates reil^WMM ^. nU^:^ .^liTi/UH*. /*r;. 
 
 augurium, coUegii auctoritas. 
 
230 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 genious defence of divination by the Stoics, any more 
 than he does of their elastic allegorical method, which 
 might be stretched to cover the worst absurdities of 
 my'thology. Religion is to be upheld, in so far as it is m 
 accordance with the teaching of nature ; but superstition 
 is to be torn up by the root. Unfortunately Cicero gives 
 no precise definition of the latter opprobrious word, nor 
 does he distinctly say how the existing religion is to 
 be cleared of its superstitious elements. 
 
 In regard to ethics Cicero openly disclaims the nega- 
 tive view'of Carneades\ and only wavers between a more 
 or less thorough acceptance of the Stoic doctrine. In 
 general, it may be said that he has a higher admiration 
 for the Stoic system of ethics and theology than he has 
 for any other. Thus he calls it the most generous and 
 masculine of systems, and is even inclined to deny 
 the name of philosopher to all but the Stoics-\ He 
 defends their famous paradoxes as being absolutely true 
 and genuinely Socratic^ and finds fault with Antiochus 
 and the Peripatetics for hesitating to admit that the wise 
 man will retain his happiness in the bull of Phalans*. 
 Similarly he blames the latter for justifying a moderate 
 indulgence of the various emotions instead of eradicating 
 
 1 Leg. I. 39 pertitrhatricem harum omnium rertim Acadcmiam,^ 
 hanc ab Arcesila et Carneads rccentcm exonmus, ut sileat ; nam si 
 invaserit in haec quae satis scite nobis instruda et composita vtdcntur, 
 nimias edet ruinas. 
 
 2 Tusc. III. 22, IV. 53. 
 
 3 Paradoxa § 4 mihi ista irapa^o^a maxime videntur esse 
 Socratica longcque rerissima, Acad. 11. 135. Arguing as a Peri- 
 patetic in the De Finibus iv. 74, Cicero takes the opposite side. 
 
 ^ Tusc. V. 75. 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 231 
 
 them altogether^ At the same time he confesses that 
 Stoicism is hardly adapted for this work-a-day world ; it 
 would be more in place in Plato's Utopia^; when it is 
 attempted to apply it to practice, common sense speedily 
 reduces it to something not very ditferent from the 
 Academy or the Lyceum. Indeed we often find Cicero 
 ar^Tuing that the difference is merely nominal, and that 
 zlxio changed the terms, but not the doctrines of ^the 
 original Socratic school of which these were offshoots'*. 
 
 ""l proceed to give a very brief survey of Cicero's philo- 
 sophical works, all composed, with the exception of the 
 De Oratore, the De Rcpiiblica and De Legibus, within the 
 last two years of his life. His object in writing them was 
 to "-ive his countrymen a general view of Greek philo- 
 sophv, particularly of its practical side ; and he claimed 
 that 'in doing this he was labouring for the good of 
 his country no less than, when he had been most active 
 as a speaker in the Senate-House and the Forum*. 
 
 1 Tusc vJ.i^.mollisetenervataputanda est Peripatcticorum ratio 
 et oratio, qui perturbari animos necesse dicunt esse, sed adJnbent 
 modum qucndam, quern ultra progredi nan oportcat. Modum tuadJubes 
 vitio? and § 4^ nihil interest utrum modcratas per turbattones 
 approbent an moderatam injustitiam &-c ; compare III. 22 and UJ/. 
 I 80 On the other hand in the Academica 11. 135. where Cicero 
 represents the New Academy, he defends, though in a somewhat 
 perfunctory way, the moderate use of the emotions. 
 
 2 Fin. IV. 21, Tusc. V. 3, ad Att. Ii. i. ^ , • • 
 
 3 Fin. V. 22, restantStoici, qui cum a Peripatcticis et Academicis 
 omnia transtulisscnt, mminibus aliis easdem res secutt sunt, Leg. l. 
 
 ^^'4^^^. D. I. 7 foil, with my notes, Divin. 11. i, quaerenti mihi mul- 
 tumque et din cogitanti quanam re possem prodcsse quam plurtmts, 
 ne quando inter mitter em constclere rei public ae, nulla major occurre- 
 bat quam si optimarum artium vias tradercm meis civibus. 
 
 I 
 
232 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 The earliest of this later group was the Hortensius, 
 written in 46 B.C., but now lost. This was followed by 
 several oratorical treatises. The De Consolalione, also 
 lost, was written on the death of his daughter in 45- 
 Then came the Academica, of which only a portion has 
 come down to us. In this, as has been already mentioned, 
 Cicero defends the doctrine of Probability, as enunciated 
 by Philo, which may be regarded as a softened form of the 
 scepticism of Carneades, against the 'Certitude' of Anti- 
 ochus, the champion of the Eclectics. The Acadmica 
 would be reckoned with the Topica and the rhetorical 
 treatises, as coming under the head of Logc\ Under the 
 head of Ethics we have (i) the De Funbus% a treatise on 
 the Sum mum Bonum. In the ist book the Epicurean 
 doctrine is expounded by Torquatus ; in the 2nd it is 
 controverted with Stoic arguments by Cicero; the 3rd 
 book contains an account of the Stoic doctrine by Cato, 
 to whom Cicero replies with an argument taken from 
 Antiochus in the 4th book, in which he endeavours to 
 show, first, that all that is of value in Zeno's teaching is 
 really Socratic, being derived from his master Polemo, and 
 secondly, that the innovations of Zeno, where they are not 
 confined to the use of an unnatural and paradoxical 
 terminology, involve a contradiction between the prima 
 naturae with which he starts, and his final conclusion 
 that virtue is the only good; in the 5th book the 
 doctrine of Antiochus himself— it will be remembered 
 that this is an amalgam of the three anti-Epicurean 
 systems— is expounded by the Peripatetic Piso. 
 
 1 Divin. IT. 4, Acad. I. 32. 
 
 2 On the plural, see Madvig's ed. Pracf. p. Ixi n. It is uncer- 
 tain who introduced the idea of a Siunnnim Malum to correspond 
 with the Summum Bonum. 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 233 
 
 After dealing with the theory of morals m the De 
 Finibus, Cicero goes on to treat of practical morality m 
 the De Officiis (2) addressed to his son, then studymg 
 under Cratippus at Athens. In a work mtended for 
 direct instruction, Cicero abandons the form of dialogue, 
 which he was accustomed to employ in order to exhibit 
 the views of others without necessarily indicating his 
 own ; and lays down in plain terms the principles and 
 rules which he held to be of most importance for the 
 guidance of conduct. It is therefore significant that 
 here, where he is speaking in his own person and not 
 acting a character in a dialogue, he shows himself most 
 distinctively Stoic in doctrine', though he still only claims 
 to be giving utterance to probabilities not to certainties ^ 
 The t'^eatise is further of special interest as being the 
 earliest we possess on Duty, and on that conflict 
 between different kinds of Duty or between Duty and 
 Expediency, which forms the subject of Casuistry. In 
 the I St book Cicero treats of the Jioncstum {to koXov) 
 subdividing it into the four cardinal virtues, and gives 
 directions for action in cases where one duty seems to 
 conflict with another. In the 2nd he does the same for 
 the utile (to a;</>..VoV). Up to this point he had been 
 able to make use of the ^rcpl k^Hkovto^ of Panaetms as 
 his guide ; but in the 3rd book he broaches a question to 
 which Panaetius had given no answer, viz. how we are 
 to act, when the honesium conflicts with the utile. For 
 this he finds his authorities in Posidonius and Hecato, 
 and shows, with abundant illustrations from Roman 
 history, that there can be no real expediency apart from 
 duty. 
 
 i See Ilolden's Introduction pp. xxxiv foil. ^ off. 11. 7. 
 
234 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 In the Tusculanae Disputationcs (3) Cicero discusses 
 at length particular questions of practical philosophy. 
 Though the form of dialogue is preserved, there is no 
 pretence of real disputation; Cicero simply gives his 
 opinion on the points on which it is solicited by the 
 anonymous questioner, and shows why he has adopted it 
 in preference to others. Here too he is distinctly Stoic, 
 except on the single question of Immortality, where he 
 prefers to share the error of Plato, if it be an error, 
 rather than assent to the depressing doctrines of the 
 other schools. The general subject is to prove that man 
 has in his own power all that is necessary for happiness, 
 and to teach us how to guard against the usual causes 
 of unhappiness. Thus in the ist book we are armed 
 against the fear of death, in the 2nd against pain, in the 
 3rd against sorrow, in the 4th against all other passions, 
 while the 5th shows the sufficiency of virtue in itself for 
 happiness, independently of all that is circumstantial and 
 
 external. 
 
 In addition to these larger works we possess the 
 following ethical tracts by Cicero, the Cato Major ox Be 
 Smcctute (4), showing how to spend old age happily ; 
 a good deal of this is borrowed from Plato and Xenophon ; 
 the Laeliiis or De Amicitia (5), on the benefits and duties 
 of friendship, chieHy taken from the treatise by Theo- 
 phrastus on the same subject, but with additions from 
 Plato and Xenophon ; there is nothing sectarian in the 
 tone of either of these. The Paradoxa (6) is a defence 
 of the Stoic paradoxes, viz. that the honestum is the only 
 good, that virtue is sufficient for happiness, that good 
 and evil admit of no degrees, that every fool is mad, that 
 the wise man alone is free, that the wise man alone 
 
 CICERO. '35 
 
 is riTi In his dedication Cicero tells Brutus that he has 
 composed this for his amusement, but there is no reason 
 for speaking of it as a mereyV/. d^esprit\ He writes m a 
 tone of conviction, and most of the propositions which 
 he maintains here, if attacked, are also defended, by him 
 
 in other passages. 
 
 Under the same head of Ethics we should arrange 
 the political treatises, Dc Repuhlica (7) and De Lcgibm 
 (8) The former, of which about one third is still extant, 
 was composed in six books, on the best form of govern- 
 ment and the grounds of national prosperity. Ihe 
 writers chiefly followed are Plato, Aristotle, Theophrastus 
 and Polybius; but, both in this and in tlie treatise 
 on Law, Cicero is more independent than he is in dis- 
 cussing questions of a more strictly philosophic character. 
 The book ends, like the Republic of Plato, with an 
 account of the rewards awaiting the righteous in a future 
 life: it is noticeable however that, in the * Dream of 
 Scipio,' the highest rewards are reserved for the patriotic 
 statesman, and that no mention is made of the punish- 
 ments of the guilty, which fill so large a space in the 
 
 story of Er. 
 
 In imitation of Plato, Cicero followed up his treatise 
 on the State by one on the Laws. There seems good 
 reason for believing that the De Legibiis was never 
 completed. We only possess three books, but Macrobius 
 quotes from a fifth book, and the latest editor conjectures 
 that eight books were contemplated by the author'. ^ The 
 work is in the form of a monologue by Cicero, inter- 
 
 1 As is done by the writer of the article on Cicero in Smith's 
 
 Dictionary of Biography. 
 
 2 See editions by Du Meslin pp. 5, 6, and Bake pp. xv foil. 
 
236 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 spersed with a few remarks from his brother Quintus and 
 Atticus. The ist book, on the origin and nature of 
 Justice and Law, is taken from Stoic sources; the 2nd, 
 on the laws relating to Religion, and the 3rd, on the 
 powers and duties of Magistrates, though modelled after 
 Plato's No/Aoi, as far as their form goes, derive their con- 
 tents mainly from the institutions of Rome, as idealized 
 by Cicero. Besides Plato and the Stoics, Cicero men- 
 tions particularly Theophrastus and other Peripatetics, as 
 authorities on the subject of which he treats. He dis- 
 tinctly al)jures the New Academy of Arcesilaus and 
 Carncades, and upholds the Antiochian view of the 
 fundamental agreement of the Socratic, i.e. of the anti- 
 Epicurean schools. 
 
 The third great division of philosophy is Physics. 
 Under this head would come the De Natura Deorum (i) 
 De Divinatione (2) and the fragmentary De Fato (3) and 
 Timacus (4). The first is composed much on the same 
 principle as the Dc Finibus. It begins with an exposition 
 of the Epicurean view, which is then controverted with 
 Stoic arguments by Cotta representing the New Aca- 
 demy. In the 2nd book Palbus expounds the Stoic 
 view, which again is severely criticized in the 3rd and 
 final book bv Cotta, who thus seems to remain in 
 possession of the fieUr. And as Cicero, in the introduc- 
 tory chapters, avows himself a disciple of the Agnostic 
 school of Arcesilaus and Carneades^, we might be tempted 
 
 ^ On the question whether the Epicurean argument is taken from 
 Zeno or Thilodemus or Phaedrus, see my edition pp. xlii to liv. 
 The opposite argument is in all prohability taken from Posidonius, 
 who is also the authority used in the 2nd book. The 3rd book is 
 taken from Clitomachus. 
 
 2 N. D. I. II and 17. 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 237 
 
 to say that the conclusion arrived at must represent his 
 own view. That this however was not the case is 
 apparent from the assertion repeated in two passages, 
 that, for his own part, he regarded the view of Balbus as 
 more probable than that of Cotta \ Nor does there 
 seem any reason to supi)0se that this is said merely as a 
 salve to popular prejudice. He had begun the discussion 
 by laying down that the existence of a Divine Being was 
 highly probable, and that we were by nature drawn to 
 believe in it ; that the denial of a superintending Provi- 
 dence must lead to the overthrow of all that binds 
 together society ; and that the object of Carncades was, 
 not to make men unbelievers, but to stimulate thought by 
 stating the arguments on both sides with clearness and 
 fairness, and then leaving his hearers to make up their 
 minds for themselves'. 
 
 In the De Divinatione Quintus Cicero gives the Stoic 
 argument, probably taken from Posidonius, for the truth 
 of Divination in the first book ; Marcus replies with 
 unusual earnestness in the 2nd book, proving after 
 Clitomachus and Panaelius that all Divination is decep- 
 tive and superstitious. Of the De Fato and Tiniaeiis only 
 fragments are extant. In the former Cicero reproduces 
 for the benefit of his pupil Hirtius, the consul elect, the 
 subtle arguments by which Carncades endeavoured to 
 disprove the Stoic doctrine of Necessity. The latter is 
 a paraphrase of a portion of the Timaeus of Plato, 
 intended apparently to have been inserted in a dialogue 
 on the origin of the Universe, in which Nigidius the 
 Pythagorean would have appeared as one of the interlocu- 
 
 ^ N. D. III. 95, Divin. I. 8. 
 
 * N. D. I. 2, 3, 4, 13, Divin. I. 8. 
 
238 CICERO. 
 
 tors. Probably the design was cut short by the author's 
 death '. 
 
 Having thus briefly analysed the philosophical writings 
 of Cicero, it remains for us to endeavour to form some 
 estimate of their value to readers of the present day. 
 There can be no doubt that on their first appearance 
 they supplied to the Romans all that Cicero had pro- 
 mised, a pliilosophical vocabulary of their own, together 
 with an agreeable introduction to the study of Greek 
 philosophy. But it is a different question how far they 
 are of value to those who can read for themselves the 
 actual works of the greatest of the Greeks. We may 
 consider this question from two points of view, according 
 as we regard Cicero as being himself a philosopher or as 
 merely supplying materials to the historian of philosophy. 
 It is in the latter point of view undoubtedly that he is of 
 most importance to us now. Yet, if we divide Greek phi- 
 losophy into three periods, that of its youth, its maturity, 
 its old age, it cannot be said that we gain much from Cicero 
 for the knowledge of the two earlier periods. He had pro- 
 bably not read for himself a single treatise by any pre- 
 Socratic philosopher^; and the occasional second-hand 
 references to them, which occur in his works, convey very 
 little information beyond what is known from other 
 sources ^ Sometimes also they are full of mistakes; as we 
 
 ^ See K. F. Hermann De Intcrpretatiom TbnacL Gottingen 
 1842. 
 
 ^ Perhaps an exception should be made in the case of Democritus 
 whom he repeatedly praises for his style, see De Oraiore I. 49 
 Orator di^ Divin. 11. 133, 
 
 3 That the references are second-hand is shown in a crucial 
 instance by a comparison between the v^pl evae^eias of Philodemus 
 and the Epicurean sketch of early philosophers contained in the first 
 book of the De Nat lira Deoriim. See my notes on §§ 25 — 41. 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 239 
 
 find to be the case in the Epicurean sketch of the early phi- 
 losophers contained in the ist book oi De Natiira Deorum. 
 No doubt it may be said that Cicero was not bound to 
 correct all the errors of his Epicurean authority, that he 
 might in fact have intentionally introduced them as 
 characteristic of the school ; but in any case he was 
 hardly justified in adding to them, as he has done ; and 
 if he had had any familiar knowledge ot the philosophers 
 mentioned, it seems scarcely likely that he would have 
 lost the opportunity of pointing out these errors in the 
 speech of Cotta which follows \ 
 
 He had considerably more acquaintance with the 
 writers of the 2nd period. He had translated portions 
 of Plato and Xenophon and had probably read the 
 greater part of their works. But when we talk of 
 'reading,' we must remember who and what the 
 reader was. He was an extremely busy man, a 
 leading statesman, the most popular of orators, a con- 
 noisseur and virtuoso, fond of society and evidently 
 much sought after for his social qualities, and besides all 
 this he was an unwearied correspondent. Under these 
 circumstances it was plainly impossible for him to devote 
 to Plato and Aristotle that patient and continuous study 
 which alone could have enabled him thoroughly to un- 
 derstand their teaching. Even if he had had leisure for 
 this, it may be questioned whether there is not something 
 in the temperament of the orator which is inconsistent 
 with a profound study of philosophy. The aim of the 
 philosopher is an ever closer approach to perfect truth ; 
 the aim of the orator is to persuade the multitude to 
 adopt a certain course of action. While the philosopher 
 ^ See my edition. with the notes on §§ 25 — 29. 
 
240 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 is always on the watch for difficulties or exceptions, which 
 may lead to an extension or modification of his theory ; 
 the orator prefers to select topics which admit of broad 
 and simple statements and are calculated to excite 
 emotion both in himself and his audience. So with 
 Cicero : perhaps no man was ever more sensitive to the 
 loftiness and beauty of Plato's idealism ; but he had 
 neither leisure nor taste for a prolonged piece of close 
 technical argumentation, such as we find in the Par- 
 incuidcs or in Aristotle's metaphysical works. Nor 
 again did he ever take the pains to trace out the inner 
 connexion of a philosophical system, so as to see its 
 several parts combined into a consistent whole. In 
 spite therefore of his delight in Plato, he has not, as far 
 as I am aware, contributed anything to our present 
 understanding of Plato, very little even to our knowledge 
 of Plato's surroundings, which we should not have learnt 
 from other sources. On the contrary any reader who 
 derived his notion of Plato's, and still more of Aristode's 
 system, exclusively from Cicero, would undoubtedly form 
 a very erroneous notion of what Plato and Aristotle really 
 were. Notwithstanding his protest against the theoretical 
 positiveness of Antiochus, Cicero seems to have had no 
 scruple in accepting his utterly uncritical view of the 
 previous history of philosophy. He usually speaks of 
 Aristotle and Plato as if their differences were scarcely 
 more than those of style and manner of expression, and 
 attributes to them doctrines which belong to later 
 schools, such as the triple division of philosophy, and 
 even the Stoic cosmopolitanism and humanitarianism, 
 the distinction between perfect and impertect duties, and 
 the definition of the summum bonum as a life in accor- 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 241 
 
 dance with nature \ It is a little remarkable that though 
 Cicero knew much less of Aristotle than he did of Plato, 
 yet he has really added to our knowledge of the former 
 by preserving to us some interesting fragments of his 
 lost dialogues ^ 
 
 But it is in the 3rd or post-Aristotelian period 
 that Cicero becomes an authority of first-rate importance. 
 The original writers for this period have all disappeared, 
 leaving only a few fragments behind them; but their 
 best thoughts still survive in a nobler form in the pages 
 of Cicero. Even here, it may be doubted whether 
 Cicero himself had read several of the earlier treatises, 
 such as those of Zeno and Cleanthes, to which we find 
 references in his works. But these post- Aristotelian schools 
 w^ere still flourishing when he wrote : he had heard their 
 doctrines discussed by living expositors; he was personally 
 acquainted with the authors of the most popular manuals, 
 and he was himself a sincere believer in that common 
 basis of practical philosophy to which all were more or 
 less rapidly gravitating, in proportion as they were influ- 
 enced by the eclectic spirit of their age. 
 
 We may therefore in the main accept Cicero as a 
 
 1 See Acad. I. 19 foil, with Raid's notes. Though Antiochus is 
 responsible for much of Cicero's inaccuracy, yet the latter's transla- 
 tion of the Timaeus shows that it was possible for him occasionally 
 to go wrong through misinterpretation of the Greek, see Gedike 
 Ciceronis historia philosophiae anti(piae pp. 164, 171 foil, and K. F. 
 Hermann De Interpretatione Timaei. Again he often loses the 
 point of an argument through carelessness and over-haste, see the 
 notes on the AT. D. l. 25 si di possimt &>€. § 26 Anaximenes, § 31 
 Xenophon, § 33 replicatiotte, and especially § 87 quidl solus ^^c. 
 also Madvig's note and excursus on Fin. II. 34. 
 
 2 See the quotation given above, p. 142. 
 
 M.P. I^ 
 

 242 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 trustworthy witness of the doctrines taught in the schools 
 of his time ; and, if we make allowance for the growth 
 of eclecticism, we may further accept these as_ repre- 
 senting fairly the views of the same schools durmg the 
 earlier part of this period, except where they have been 
 confused by the harmonizing treatment of Antiochus. 
 One instance of this confusion has been already noticed, 
 where Cicero identifies the Stoic prima naturae 1. e. the 
 objects of the instinctive, prae-moral impulses of child- 
 hood with the prima constitutio, the rudimentary constitu- 
 tion of Antiochus, involving the seeds of all virtues, and 
 makes this a part of the Summum i?.««;«, a dogma which 
 he also ascribes to Aristotle and the early Academics . 
 But the larger part of Cicero's philosophical works is, as he 
 modestly confesses, merely paraphrased from the Greek ; 
 and when he is reproducing a treatise of Panaetius 
 or Posidonius or Clitomachus or the Epicurean Zcno, we 
 are tolerably safe from the disturbing influence of Antio- 
 chus. And I venture to think there are few remains 
 of antiquity which are more worthy the attention of one 
 who is interested in the development of human thought 
 in its relation to the highest subjects, than the treatise of 
 Fanaetius on Duty, and the arguments and counter- 
 arguments of Posidonius and Clitomachus on Natural 
 Theology and Divination, preserved to us m the Ve 
 Natura Deorum and Dc Dlvinatione, or perhaps 
 above all, than the exposition of the Stoic conception of 
 Law in the xst book of the Dc Legibus Yet even 
 in these we have to pay something for the beautiful form 
 
 1 See Madvig Excursus IV. on the De Finihus. 
 
 ibeewauvij, ^„ „,„i ■ minore labore Jiunt ; verba 
 
 ' Ad Att. XII. 52 airo7ptt0a sunt, mtmre mmi<^ j 
 
 tantum affao, quibus abuiido. 
 
 i 
 
 J 
 
 CICERO. 
 
 243 
 
 which Cicero has given to the clumsy Greek of the 
 I St century B.C. The argument has not always been 
 understood ; the connexion is often broken ; sometimes 
 different treatises will have been somewhat carelessly 
 pieced together; scarcely ever do we find a rounded 
 whole dominated by a single conception with all the parts 
 in due subordination and harmony. 
 
 It remains still to ask what Cicero himself has con- 
 tributed to philosophy, independently of translations and 
 paraphrases in which he has embalmed for us the 
 thoughts of others. And the first thing to be said is, that 
 he has not only given a new form, but he has breathed a 
 new spirit into the dry bones of this later philosophy. 
 The same wide experience of practical life which made 
 him indifferent to subtle distinctions of thought, brought 
 its compensation by enabling him to give life and reality 
 to the bare abstractions of the schools. We feel that he 
 is animated by a genuine enthusiasm when, amid the 
 furious party-strife and the self-seeking lawlessness which 
 marked the close of the Republic, he comes forward to 
 preach of that supreme Law by which all Nature is 
 governed, and which is written in the heart and conscience 
 of each individual of our race, thus forming a common 
 bond of brotherhood, which knits all mankind together 
 and engages those who own that bond to love each other 
 as they love themselves*. Whether he was actually the 
 first to give prominence to this conception of an original 
 revelation written on the heart of man, is not absolutely 
 certain : he is at any rate the first writer in whom we find 
 it distinctly expressed. Even Plato only spoke of our 
 having beheld the ideas in a previous state of existence; 
 
 1 Leg. I. 28 foil., N. D. I. 121, 
 
 16—2 
 
244 ^^^^'^°- 
 
 Cicero supposes them to be implanted in us at our bird. 
 Sd to ^ow with our growth, when they are not bhgh ed 
 by un-'^nial influences'. Another characteristic which 
 adds a charm to the works of Cicero is his fondness for 
 trfc ng in the ancient worthies of Rome the unconsctous 
 tracing m ui^ _ • i^^ ^r crpnemsitv and fairness, 
 
 operation of those prmc.ples of generosity an 
 
 which had been brought out into the ^f "<=' ' "^r 
 consciousness by Plato and the Stoics Ihu h^s mo a 
 treatises, even when they are most 'J'=f«'^ '- '" '°f f^ 
 arrangement, form a treasure-house in - "* " 
 sayings and doings of the best men of antiquity are su 
 forth in the noblest language for the delight and instruc 
 ion of posterity. However it may please some writers of 
 r thle to V Jnt their ingratitude to Cicero tcanno^^e 
 denied that to none of those great writers and thinkers, 
 who iJ^e runners in the torch-race have passed from 
 Lnd to hand the light of civilisation,' is the worM mor 
 indebted than it is to him; that it was he who first made 
 he Aoughts of the mighty masters of old the common 
 property of mankind; that he, beyond all others, raised 
 L general standard of sentiment and morality m h. 
 own a^e- and that his writings kept alive through he 
 Da^k Ages, to be rekindled with a fresh glow m the 
 HutnL of the Renaissance, the --"-"- ° ^^ 
 glorious past, and a tradition of sound thmUng and 
 judging unfettered by the terrors of church authority. 
 
 . See Fin. V. ^0 C'atura homint) d.dit takm mcntcm, quae 
 
 tan.s rer,„n ..a.imaru.n, ct jua. '"^""'^^uL ipsa,,, m- 
 \hoavit, nilul a„.plius ; alsoZ^c- >■ 33. Ti,sc. ill. ^ q«otea y 
 p. ()59- 
 
 VARRO. 
 
 245 
 
 
 i\I. Terentius Varro, the most learned and most 
 voluminous of Roman writers was born B.C. ii6. He 
 took an active part in public affairs and served under 
 rompeius in the Civil War. After the battle of Pharsalia 
 he submitted to Cxsar, who employed him to supermtend 
 the collection and arrangement of books for a public 
 library. He escaped from the proscription under the 
 second triumvirate, and continued his literary labours 
 without interruption till his death in B.C. 28. In phi- 
 losophy he followed his master, Antiochus, with perhaps 
 even a more decided leaning to Stoicism. Thus he 
 holds that that which distinguishes the different schools 
 is their view as to the Smnmnm Bo,ium, on which he 
 reckoned up 288 possible theories. He himself makes 
 it consist in virtue combined with the prima naturae 
 which he identifies with the lower 'goods' (external and 
 corporeal) of the Peripatetics. Probability is not suf- 
 ficient for the guidance of life: a man cannot act 
 resolutely unless he has full conviction. His religious 
 opinions have been already referred to: the supreme 
 God is the soul of the world, whose varied manifestations 
 constitute the deities of the common worship, some 
 belong to the higher spheres, others, such as the heroes 
 and demigods, to the sublunary sphere: m man the 
 Divine Spirit manifests himself as the genius or soul, 
 which Varro identified with the warm breath which per- 
 vades and vivifies the body. 
 
 Another contemporary of Cicero is of interest to us 
 as the first sign of a revival which was to be of increasing 
 importance in the following age, I mean Nigidms 
 Fi'ulus, the restorer of the extinct philosophy of Pytha- 
 
 t 
 
 ( 
 
 il 
 
246 SEXTJUS. 
 
 gpras\ With him we may connect the short-lived school 
 of the Sextii, in which Seneca received his philosophical 
 training. The founder Q. Sextius was born b.c. 70- 
 He combined certain Pythagorean elements with Stoicism. 
 Thus he held that the soul was incorporeal, and urged 
 on his pupils abstinence from meat, and the practice of 
 daily self-examination. He spoke of man's life as a 
 continuous struggle against folly, and said that constant 
 vigilance is needed if we would contend victoriously 
 against the foes by whom we are surrounded. A saymg 
 of his disciple Fabianus may be noted here as prophetic 
 of the new spirit of the coming age : * Reason is not 
 sufficient to overcome passion: we must take to us the 
 power of a noble enthusiasm ^' 
 
 1 So Cicero calls him in the introduction to his translation of the 
 Timaeus, sic judico post illos 7iolnics Pythagoreos, quonim disciphna 
 extincta est quodammodo, hunc exstitisse qui illam remvaret, 
 
 2 See passages cited in R. and P. §§ 469-472, and Zeller p. 680 
 foil. The last quotation is from Seneca De Brevit. x. contra affcctits 
 impetu, non subtilitate pugnandum, nee viinutls vulneribiis, sed 
 incursii avcricndam acicvi. 
 
 
 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 247 
 
 We have thus reached the limit which I proposed for 
 my sketch of Ancient Philosophy. We have watched 
 the growth of philosophy from the small seed, possibly a 
 single Homeric line\ dropped in the fruitful soil of 
 Miletus, to the mighty tree overshadowing the earth, 
 whose branches we distinguish by such names as Socrates 
 and Plato and Aristotle and Zeno. We have seen it 
 throwing out offshoots in the shape of the various sciences, 
 arithmetic, geometry, mechanics, astronomy, grammar, 
 rhetoric, logic, and even zoology and botany. We have 
 seen it withdrawing more and more from those vague 
 speculations on the nature and origin of the universe, 
 which first attracted the dawning intelligence of Greece, 
 and concentrating its energies on the nature, the duty 
 and the destiny of man. We have seen how it revolu- 
 tionized men's thoughts in regard to religion, how, as 
 early as the 6th century B.c.^ it had risen to the concep- 
 tion of One eternal all-wise and all-righteous God, how it 
 gradually came to see in Him the object, not of fear alone, 
 but of reverence and trust and love ; how sternly it 
 denounced the follies and impurities of paganism, and 
 taught men that the only acceptable worship was that 
 
 1 //. XIV. 201. 
 
 2 See above on Xenophanes, p. 14. 
 
 
248 
 
 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 which was offered In a spirit of purity and truths As to 
 men's relations towards each other, we have seen the 
 change from the old narrowing and dividing principle 
 *thou shalt love thy neighbour and hate thine enemy,' to 
 the recognition of the brotherhood which unites together 
 all nations and all conditions of men, all alike sharing 
 in one common humanity and being members of that 
 great body of which God Himself is the head and which 
 includes within it all rational existences whatsoever, 
 whether human, angelic or divine'. We have seen too 
 how the human consciousness was deepened and elevated 
 as well as widened by philosophy. Instead of the old 
 superficial conception of truth as that which is commonly 
 believed, the investigation of the grounds of belief led 
 many to doubt altogether of the possibility of the attain- 
 ment of truth, and convinced all of their need of further 
 light to dispel the shadows which obscured the subjects 
 of highest and deepest interest. Happiness was no 
 longer" the simple indulgence of the natural impulses. 
 The schools which began with the loudest profession of 
 eudaemonism ended by acknowledging that the mis- 
 fortune of the wise was better than die prosperity of the 
 fool', that if happiness was to be attained by man, it 
 could only be through imperturbability and self-mastery, 
 which would enable him to conquer pain and force 
 pleasure out of whatever circumstances ; while we find 
 
 1 Cic. N. D. 11. 71 ctiltus aiitem dcortim est optimus idemque 
 castissimus atque sanctissimus plenissimusque pietatis, ut eos semper 
 pura Integra incorrtipta et mente et voce veneremiir. 
 
 2 See above, p. 159 and compare Cic. Fin. ill. 64. 
 
 3 Diof^. L. X. 135 Kpe^TTOV €v\oyi<TTus a.Tvx^'iv 7] aXoylarus 
 
 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 249 
 
 writers of other schools maintaining that happiness is 
 merely the accompaniment of virtuous energy, and can 
 never be regarded as in itself constituting the end 
 of action, or repudiating it altogether as something 
 unworthy of our attention and likely to distract us from 
 the one thing needful, or in fine despairing of its attain- 
 ment in a world Hke this. Thus the life beyond the 
 crave, that shadowy realm to which the Homeric 
 Achilles preferred the meanest lot on earth, became to 
 Plato and his followers the only real existence; death 
 was the enfranchisement from the prison of the body', 
 the harbour of rest from the storms of life^ the re-union 
 of long-parted friends', the admission into the society of 
 the wise and good of former ages, the attainment of that 
 perfect goodness and wisdom and beauty, which had 
 been the yearning of the embodied spirit during the 
 weary years of its mortal pilgrimage*. So also in regard 
 to virtue. This was no longer Umited to the performing 
 well the duties of a citizen, obeying the laws of the State 
 and fighting its batde's. It was the inner righteousness 
 of the soul, the fixed habit of subordinating the individual 
 
 1 Cic. Tnse. 1. 1 18 * if we are called to depart from this life,' laeti et 
 agentes gratias parcamus emittique nos e custodia et levari vinclis 
 arbitremur, ut in aeternam et plane in nostram domum remigremus ; 
 
 Somn. Scip. 14, "25. 
 
 2 Tusc. I. 118 profecto fuit quaedam vis quae gc7ieri consiileret 
 humano, nee id gigneret ant alcret, quod, cum exa?tclavisset omnes 
 labores, turn incideret in mortis malum sempiternum : portum potius 
 paratum nobis et perfugium putemus. 
 
 3 Cic. Cato 84 O praeclanim diem cum in illud divinum animo- 
 rum concilium proficiscar, foil., Plato Phaedo 63. 
 
 4 Plat. Phaed. 67 ttoXX^ o^> oXoyio. c?^, d fxr} afffiivoi eKcTae toiev, ol 
 a(pi.KOixivoL% iXwis icriv ov StA plov rjpujv rvx^v. 
 
250 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 will to the Divine will, of acting not for private interest but 
 for the good of all. And just as deeper thoughts about the 
 nature of knowledge forced on men the conviction of their 
 own ignorance, so deeper thoughts about virtue made men 
 conscious of their own deficiency in virtue, and produced 
 in them the new conviction of sin. The one conviction 
 taught them their need of a revelation, the other convic- 
 tion taught them their need of a purifying and sanctifying 
 power \ And one step more philosophy could take : it 
 chose out for its ideal of humanity, the Zeus-sprung son 
 of Alcmena, whose hfe was spent in labours for the good 
 of others, and who, after a death of agony on the burning 
 pyre, was received up into heaven, thenceforth to be 
 worshipped with divine honours by the gratitude of man- 
 kind". 
 
 1 See above, p. i6o foil. The prevalence of this feeling of guilt 
 and need of atonement is shown by the rapid growth of Jewish 
 proselytism about the time of Augustus, by the new forms of ablution 
 and sacrifice introduced in connexion with the worship of strange 
 deities such as Isis, Serapis, Cybele, Bellona, especially the blood- 
 bath, taurobolium, which came into vogue in the 2nd century A. D. 
 Virgil in his Messianic eclogue makes the power of cleansing from 
 sin one of the attributes of the new-born King. 
 
 2 Cicero and the Stoics continually appeal to the example 
 of Hercules, see Off. m. .5 Tt is more in accordance with nature to 
 undergo the greatest labours and pains in order to save or help 
 mankind, as Hercules did, whom the gratitude of men has placed 
 among the company of the immortals, than to live alone in the 
 highest enjoyment,' also Fin. u. 118, ill. 66, Tusc. I, 3^ 'That man 
 is of the noblest character who believes himself born for the assis- 
 tance, the preservation, the salvation, of his fellows. Hercules 
 would never have ranked among the Gods, if he had not paved his 
 own way to heaven, while still on earth,' Hor. Od. in. 3, 9. iv. 5, 
 35, 8, -29, Epist. II. ii 10. 
 
 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 251 
 
 Thus far the light of nature had carried men. Here, 
 when it had reached its climax, in the fulness of time, as 
 we believe, the light of revelation was vouchsafed, to 
 confirm its hesitating utterances, to answer its questions, 
 to supply its deficiencies, to manifest before the eyes of 
 men the power of a new life in the Word made flesh. In 
 Christianity we reach the true goal of the ethical and 
 religious philosophy of the Ancients. Christ fulfilled the 
 hopes and longings of the Stoic and the Platonist, as He 
 fulfilled the law of Moses and the prophecies of Isaiah. 
 
 Here therefore, it seems to me, is the natural place to 
 pause in our sketch of the development of ancient 
 thought and see what was the highest attainment of the 
 human mind, uninfluenced by Christianity. It is true 
 there is one phase of that development, the mysticism of 
 the Neo-Pythagorean and the Neo-Platonist schools, 
 which we shall have to exclude, as it lies still in the 
 future which we forbid ourselves to enter. But Neo- 
 Platonism can, no more than Christianity, be regarded as 
 a simple development of Hellenic or Western thought ; it 
 is a hybrid between East and West. Among its chief 
 precursors we find the Alexandrian Jew Philo, born 
 shortly after the death of Cicero, the object of whose 
 teaching was to harmonize Judaism and Platonism, and 
 Plutarch of Chaeronea, born about 50 A.D., who believed 
 that a divine revelation was contained in the mysterious 
 rites of Egypt no less than in the oracles of Delphi. 
 The mixture of Orientalism is even more marked in the 
 marvellous history of the Neo-Pythagorean Apollonius of 
 Tyana, born about the time of the Christian era, which 
 was afterwards utilized by the opponents of Christianity 
 as a rival to the Gospel history. If then we are to 
 
-52 
 
 CONCL UDING REFLEXIONS, 
 admit these into a history of Western philosophy on 
 
 Hanitv' For instance, on what grounds are ^^e to 
 evdude Justin Martyr, himself a philosopher by pro- 
 estn who tells us that he had tried every sect, and at 
 s found in Christianity what he had been vamly 
 eelin'n them? or Pantaenus the Sto.c or h.s pup. 
 Clement of Alexandria, who saw in Chr.st.amty the 
 pSct wisdom which united all the broken hgs .^ 
 Ld been divided in the several -'^^^'^f ' ;^^;f^ 
 T,hilosophy? Why admit Apuleuts, and exclude his 
 £ rcountrymen TertuUian and August me, men not 
 Itlv of far greater natural ability, but of keener ph lo- 
 5i:al interest «- -^X- ^^^^^^^ 
 :?etrSo:r;:tgen. The di..djy is 
 
 hold its own against the rising rehg.on; on the other 
 hand man) of the heresies were attempts to perpetuate 
 some "pe c'ial doctrine of pagan philosophy w.thm the 
 pale of the Christian Church. 
 
 Or we may state the question m another way, 
 Slows • W to the date of the Christian era the 
 
 1: "s mos' general sense, whether materialistic or 
 
 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 25 
 
 idealistic, whether sceptical or religious. It includes 
 the allegorical mythology of the Stoics and the 
 mysticism of Pythagoras, no less than the logic of 
 Aristotle and the physics of Epicurus. A\hy then, after 
 this era, are we to confine our attention to a portion, and 
 that the less important portion, of the mental activity of 
 the time? Why are we to turn our eyes exclusively 
 to the philosophy of the Decline, and refuse to see the 
 new life which is springing up by its side ? By so doing, 
 we lose, as it seems to me, one of the most interesting 
 and instructive of spectacles; we spoil our view of 
 history, and do injustice to both sides, while we insist 
 on keeping them separate from each other It is a 
 partial but, so far as it goes, a true account of Christ.amty 
 that it is the meeting-point of Judaism and Hellenism. 
 We get a very wrong impression of the early Christian 
 writers, if we disregard the Hellenic element in them. 
 We should be able to judge more fairiy of many of the 
 Fathers, if we regarded them as successors of the philo- 
 sophers, especially of practical teachers such as Epictetus 
 and Dio Chrysostom, instead of treating them as channels 
 of a sort of supernatural tradition. Superstitious reverence 
 for their supposed authority makes it impossible to 
 appreciate their real greatness as men. I think tlierefore 
 that, after the rise of Christianity, Christian and Pagan 
 philosophy should be treated of together, until the time 
 when the West was again separated from the East and 
 Western thought was crushed under the invasion of the 
 
 ^" ToTive an accurate picture of the religious thought 
 of the first four centuries after Christ, (and all thought 
 was then more or less religious), to exhibit it in its relation 
 
234 CONCLUDING REFLEXIONS. 
 
 not only to the earlier philosophical ideas, but to the con- 
 temporary religious systems of Egypt and the East ,s a 
 work which still remains to be done, and one which 
 would require a variety of the highest quaht.es for its 
 adequate performance. I have been merely occupied 
 here with the preliminary inquiry as to the manner m 
 which the philosophy of Greece prepared the way for 
 that great central epoch of all human history; to show 
 how in the words of Clement of Alexandria, 'philosophy 
 was to the Greek, what the Law was to the Jew, the 
 schoolmaster to bring him to Christ'.' It has therefore 
 been my endeavour, while tracing the general development 
 of philosophy in accordance with the lines laid down by 
 Zeller to note particularly the interaction of religion and 
 philosophy, and show how the early hostility gave place to 
 sympathy, as out of the old corrupt religion the form of a 
 purer religion gradually disclosed itself to the m.nd of 
 the philosopher, and philosophy itself learnt from fuller 
 experience to distrust its own power whether of attaining 
 to absolute truth or of moulding the character to virtue. 
 
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