By Eduard G. Zeller
The intellectual life of Greece had reached a point towards the close of the fifth century, in which the choice lay before it of either giving up philosophy altogether, or attempting a thorough transformation upon a new basis. The older schools were not indeed wholly extinct; but all dependence in their systems had been shaken, and a general disposition to doubt had set in. From the Sophists men had learnt to call everything in question—to attack or defend with equal readiness every opinion. Belief in the truth of human ideas, or in the validity of moral laws, had been lost. Not only enquiries respecting nature, which had engaged the attention of thinkers for upwards of a century and a half, had become distasteful, but even philosophy itself had given place to a mere superficial facility of thought and expression and the acquisition of attainments useful |2| only for the purposes of social life.
Moreover, inasmuch as moral convictions were in the case of the Greeks, as in the case of other nations, originally bound up with religious convictions, and inasmuch as this connection particularly affects tragedy owing to the legendary subjects with which it deals, it |6| follows that all that has been said respecting the connection between tragedy and principles of morality applies also to the connection between tragedy and principles of theology: nay more, in exactly the same way tragedy must busy itself with the nature and state of men whose deeds and fate it depicts, In all these respects a most decided and thorough change in Greek thought may be observed in the three generations, whose character finds such fitting expression in the three successive tragedians, Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. Without going so far as to attribute to the poets themselves every word which they put into the mouths of their heroes, still the general tone of their sentiments may be gathered partly from their general treatment of the materials, partly from their individual utterances, with no lack of certainty.
(a) Aeschylus. In Aeschylus there is an earnestness of purpose, a depth of religious feeling, an overwhelming force and majesty, worthy of a man of ancient virtue, who had himself taken part in the great battles with the Persians. At the same time there is a something bitter and violent about him, which a time of heroic deeds and sacrifices, of mighty capabilities and in-spiriting results, could neither soften down nor yet dispense with. The spirit of his tragedies is that of an untamed, masculine mind, seldom moved by softer feelings, but spell-bound by reverence for the gods, by the recognition of an unbending moral order, by resignation to a destiny from which there is no escape. Never were the Titan-like defiance of |7| unbridled strength, the wild fury unbridled strength, the wild fury of passion and frenzy, the crushing might of fate, the paroxysms of divine vengeance, more thrillingly painted than by Aeschylus. At the bottom of all his sentiments lies reverence for the divine powers; yet these are grouped almost monotheistically together, in his vast vision, as one almighty power. What Zeus says happens; his will always comes to pass, even though it escape the notice of men; 1 no mortal can do aught against his will; 2 none can escape the decision of heaven, or rather of destiny, 3 over which Zeus himself is powerless. 4 In face of this divine power man feels himself weak and frail; his thoughts are fleeting as the shadow of smoke; his life is like a picture which a sponge washes out. 5 That man mistake not his position, that he learn not to overrate what is human, 6 that he be not indignant with the Gods when in affliction, 7 that his mind soar not too high, that the grain of guilt planted by pride grows to a harvest of tears, 8 —such is the teaching which, with glowing words, flashes on us in every page of the poet.
Not even Aeschylus, however, was able to grasp these ideas in their purity, or to rise above the contradiction which runs not only through Greek tragedy, but through the whole of the Greek view of life. On |8| the one hand, even he gives utterance to the ancient: belief in the envy of heaven, which is so closely connected with the peculiarity of natural religion; sickness lurks under the rudest health; the wave of fortune, when it bears man highest on its crest, breaks on a hidden reef; would the man on whom fortune smiles escape ruin, he must voluntarily throw away a part of what he has; 1 even fate itself ordains guilt, when bent on utterly destroying a family. 2 On the other hand, Aeschylus never tires of insisting on the connection between guilt and punishment. Not only in the old stories of Niobe and Ixion, of the house of Laius and of that of Atreus, does he paint with telling touches the unavoidable nature of divine vengeance, the mischief which follows in the wake of pride, the never-dying curse of crime; but also in the unexpected result of the Persian expedition he sees a higher hand, visiting with punishment the self-exaltation of the great king, and the insults offered to the gods of Greece. Man must suffer 3 according to his deeds; God blesses him who lives in piety without guile and pride, but vengeance, 4 though it may be slow at first, suddenly overtakes the transgressor of right; some Diké strikes down with a sudden blow, 5 others she slowly crushes; from generation to generation the curse of crime gathers strength, likewise virtue and happiness 6
In the Prometheus, natural religion as a whole celebrates its moral transfiguration; the jealousy of the gods towards mortals is seen to resolve itself into mercy; Zeus himself requires the aid of the Wise One, who, for his kindness to men, has had to feel the whole weight of his wrath; yet, on the other hand, the unbending mind of the Titan must be softened, and Zeus’ rule of might be changed by willing submission into a moral rule. What the poet places in the legendary past is in reality the history of his own time and of his own mind. Aeschylus stands on the boundary line between two periods of culture, and the story he tells of the mitigation |10| of ancient justice, and of the new rule of the Gods, was repeated in another way, the sternness of the generation of Marathon giving place to the cheerful beauty of the age of Pericles.
(b) Sophocles. To the spirit of this new age Sophocles has given the most fitting expression. Agreeing as he does in principle with his predecessor, his poems, nevertheless, convey a very different impression. The keynote of the poetry of Sophocles is likewise reverence for the Gods, whose hand and laws encompass human life. From them come all things, even misfortune; 1 their never-decaying power no mortal can withstand; nothing can escape its destiny; 2 from their eyes no deed and no thought can be hid; 3 their eternal laws, 4 created by no mere human power, dare no one transgress. Men, however, are weak and frail, mere shadows or dreams, a very nothing, capable only of a passing semblance of happiness. 5 No mortal’s life is free from misfortune, 6 and even the happiest man cannot be called happy before his death; 7 nay, taking all things into account, which the changing day brings with it, the number of woes, the rarity of good fortune, the end to which all must come, it were well to repeat the old saying, ‘Not to have been born is the best lot, and the next best is to die as soon as may be.’ 8
Both poets celebrate the victory of moral order over human self-will; but in Aeschylus the victory is preceded by severer and more dreadful struggles. Moral order works, with him, as a stern |13| and fearful power, crushing the refractory; whereas, with Sophocles, it completes its work with the quiet certainty of a law of nature, awakening rather pity for human weakness than terror. That conflict of the old bloodthirsty justice with the new, round which the Eumenides of Aeschylus play, Sophocles has left behind; with him justice is, from the very beginning, harmoniously united with mercy, and the most accursed of all mortals finds in the ‘Oedipus at Colonus’ reconciliation at last. His heroes, too, are of a different order from those of his predecessor. In Aeschylus moral opposites are so hard, that human representatives of them do not suffice him; hence he brings the Gods themselves into the battlefield—Zeus and the Titans, the daughters of Night and the denizens of Olympus; whereas the tragedy of Sophocles moves entirely in the world of men. The former deals by preference with violent natures and uncontrolled passions; the strong point of the latter is to depict what is noble, self-contained, tender; strength is by him generally coupled with dignity, pain with resignation. Hence his female characters are so specially successful. Aeschylus paints in a Clytemnestra, the demoniacal side of woman’s nature in all its repulsiveness. Sophocles in an Antigone portrays pure womanhood, knowing ‘how to love, but not to hate,’ 1 and putting even hatred to shame by the heroism of her love.
In short, the poetry of Sophocles sets before us the sentiments of an epoch and a |14| people which having, by most successful efforts, risen to a happy use of its powers, and so to fame and position, enjoys existence, and which has learned to look on human nature and all that belongs to it in a cheerful spirit, to prize its greatness, to mitigate its sufferings by wise resignation, to bear its weaknesses, to control its excesses by custom and law. From him, as from no other poet, the idea is gathered of a beautiful natural agreement between duty and inclination, between freedom and order, which constitutes the moral ideal of the Greek world.
(c) Euripides. Only some four Olympiads later comes Euripides. Yet what a remarkable change in ethical tone and view of life is apparent in his writings! As an artist, Euripides is far too fond of substituting calculation for the spontaneous outcome of the poet’s mind, critical reflection for admiring contemplation. By means of particular scenes of an exciting and terrifying character, by chorus-songs often loosely connected with the action of the play, by rhetorical declamation and moralising, he seeks to produce an effect which might be gained in greater purity and depth from the unison of the whole. That harmony between the moral and the religious life which commended itself so agreeably to us in Sophocles, may be seen in a state of dissolution in the plays of the younger poet. Not that he is deficient in moral maxims and religious thoughts. He knows full well that piety and the virtue of temperance are the best things for man; that he who is mortal must not be proud of advantages nor despair in misfortune; that he can do |15| nothing without the Gods; that in the long run the good man fares well and the bad fares ill; that a modest lot is preferable to fitful greatness; 1 that the poor man’s fear of God is worth more than the ostentatious sacrifices of many a rich man; that virtue and intelligence are better than wealth and noble birth. 2 He discourses at length of the benefits conferred by the Gods on men; 3 he speaks right well of their righteous and almighty rule, 4 and he even traces back human guilt to their will. 5
However numerous such expressions may be in his writings, still they do not contain the whole of his view of the world, neither is the ethical peculiarity of his poetry to be found in them. Euripides has sufficient appreciation of what is great and morally beautiful, to be able to paint it when it comes before him in a true and telling manner. For all that, as a pupil of philosophers, 6
Whilst Iphigeneia is preparing to sacrifice the captives, she reflects that the goddess herself cannot possibly require this sacrifice, and that the story of the feast of |17| Tantalus is a fable. 1 Likewise in the Electra 2 the tragic chorus doubts as to the wonder of the change in the course of the sun. In the Troades, 3 Hecuba questions the story of the judgment of Paris, and explains the assistance of Aphrodite in carrying off Helen to mean the attractive beauty of Paris. In the Bacchae, 4 Teiresias gives an insipid, half-natural explanation of the birth of Bacchus. 5 The Gods, says Euripides, 6 have no needs, and therefore the stories which impute to them human passions cannot possibly be true. Even the general notions of divine vengeance give him offence. This he will not regard as a punishment for particular acts, but rather as a universal law. 7 In other instances, the actions and commands of the Gods are held up to blame—blame, too, for the most part, not called for by the character of the acting persons—and go unpunished in the sequel, so that it necessarily appears as the poet’s own conviction; 8 whence he concludes at one time that man need not disturb himself because of his faults, since the Gods commit the same; at another time, that the stories about the Gods cannot be true. 9
The prophetic art is held in equally low estimation by Euripides. The opportunity is seized in the |18| Helen, 1 to prove, on highly rationalistic grounds, that it is all a lie and deceit. 2 With these legends and rites, however, belief in the Gods is most thoroughly interwoven. No wonder, therefore, that the poet often puts into the mouths of his heroes statements respecting the existence of the Gods, which would sound more natural coming from Protagoras than from men and women of the legendary past. Talthybius raises the question whether there are Gods, or whether Chance guides all things; 3 another doubts their existence, 4 because of the unjust distribution of good and bad fortune; Hecuba in her prayer wonders what the deity really is, whether Zeus, or natural necessity, or the spirit of mortal beings; 5 Hercules and Clytaemnestra leave it open whether there are Gods, and who Zeus is; 6 even the Ether is explained to be Zeus. 7 So much at least these utterances prove that Euripides had wandered far away from the ancient faith in the Gods. Allowing that he is sincere when he says that only a fool can deny the deity and give credence to the deceitful assertions of philosophy respecting what is hidden, 8 still his attitude appears to have been preponderatingly sceptical and critical towards the popular faith.
The tragic movement in Euripides, unlike that conflict of moral forces which Aeschylus and Sophocles knew how to depict with such deep feeling, lies rather in personal passions, arrangements, and experiences, His heroes have not that ideal character which makes them types of a whole class. Hence, in most cases, that higher necessity, which called for our admiration in the case of Aeschylus and Sophocles, is not active in the development of the Euripidean drama, but the final result is brought about by some external means, either by divine interposition or by some human cunning. Thus, rich as he may be in poetic beauties, successful in painting individual characters, experienced in knowledge of human life and human weaknesses, thrilling in many of the speeches and scenes in his tragedies; yet most undeniably he has come down from the moral and artistic height of his two great predecessors, by introducing into tragedy habits of inward reflection, of studied effect, and of artificial language, which Agatho with his dainty |21| elegance, and Critias with his sophistic moralising, were not slow to follow. 1
(2) Didactic poetry. Contemporary with Aeschylus, or even a little before him, the poets Epicharmus, Simonides, and Pindar, flourished: soon after him Bacchylides. The first of these, Epicharmus, it has been shown in an earlier work, 2 takes a rational view of the world, and entertains clear notions on morals, and theology, thanks to his knowledge of philosophy.
(a) Simonides. Simonides, 3 so far as his views can be gathered from scattered fragments, appears mainly to insist on that moderation and self-restraint which result from a consideration of human weakness and frailty. Our life is full of toils 4 and cares; its fortune is uncertain; swiftly it hurries away; even prudence 5 is too easily lost by men; their hardly-won virtue is imperfect and unstable; it changes with circumstances; the best man is he on whom the Gods bestow prosperity. A faultless man must not be looked for; enough to find one moderately righteous. 6
(b) Bacchilides. The same vein of feeling is found in Bacchylides, on whom descended the mantle of Simonides. He knows that no one is altogether happy, that few are spared some heavy changes of fortune, and bursts, yet not alone, into the complaint: ‘Not to have been born were the happiest lot.’ 7.
Whilst warmly taking the field against the spirit of innovation, he at the same time not only presupposes this spirit in his audience, but actually furthers and promotes it. Demagogues and sycophants he lashes; yet whilst lashing them he tells us that every place is full of them; that democracy has a hundred heads, ever full of vitality; that the Athenian people, like a childish old man, are always the victim of the most impudent of their flatterers; that the steady men of the older generation are just as eager for their judicial dues as the whole body of worshipful citizens are for their law-suits; that the |31| young champions of Spartan severity are as debauched as the demagogues; 1 that the sovereign people, after the re-establishment of Solon’s constitution, has gone on as capriciously as before, only wanting female government to complete the folly. 2 Even in his plays he indulges in the arts of the demagogue and the sycophant; Socrates he slanders, and many another as heartily as any rhetorician could do; and to outbid those who squandered the public property in order to bribe the people, he tells the citizens of Athens that if things were fairly done, 3 they ought to receive far more than they did. For a reform in religion and morals, the prospects with him are bad. He praises the moral training of the ancients, but observes with a smile that morality is little at home amongst his hearers, 4 and finds the vices from which his people suffered at bottom very natural. 5 Women he brings on the stage to lash their licentiousness; but that licentiousness he represents as so deep and so general, that there can hardly be hope of improvement. He makes an onslaught on the philosophers who deny the Gods, but in one of his first comedies he gives us to understand, that belief in his time rested on trembling feet. 6 Not only here and there, 7 but in whole acts and plays, 8
yet more than enough remains to show that the poet himself, as well as his audience, had strayed far from the ancient morality which he so regretfully wishes to recall; that his fanatical devotion, like Rousseau’s wild dream of returning to a state of nature, is only the outcome of discontent with the present, only the expression of a romantic idea, not a sentiment penetrating his everyday life, and ruling his thought and feelings. Thus everywhere where we touch upon them, the age and the surroundings from which Attic philosophy came forth appear penetrated by a spirit of innovation, rendering it impossible for the most decided lovers of antiquity to adhere to the life and beliefs of their ancestors.
Such an extension, however, was an innovation in more than one respect. Looking at it from an outside point of view, it was one thing to seek counsel from public oracles and make use of ancient rites naturalised from time immemorial in fixed spots; a very different |34| thing to have recourse to the so-called answers of individual prophets and to a private worship without fixed locality, propagated by vagrant priests, practised in self-constituted confraternities, and claiming to elevate all who took part in it as the special elect above the mass of mankind, both in this world and in the next. What was this increasing fondness for private worship and irregular prophecy but a proof that the public religion was not altogether satisfactory, whilst it contributed at the same time to intensify the evil? Looking at its real nature, this mystical piety has diverged from the received form of faith and life. In it, the notions of the gods, flowing into each other, begin to lose their distinctness; 1 perhaps even the tendency to resolve all into pantheism, which may be already seen in individuals in the fifth century, may be referred thereto. 2
The conception of human life and of human nature has assumed an altered character, owing to a clearer belief in immortality, introduced by the dogmas of the migration of souls and of |35| future retribution; 1 and even of this change traces may be seen in the poetry of the time of Euripides. 2 Lastly, in connection herewith an ascetic code of morals 3 has come into vogue, enjoining abstinence from animal food, 4 celibacy, 5 the avoidance of certain defilements, 6 and the wearing of white clothing. Philosophy, it is true, could only appropriate in an intellectual form the general idea of this asceticism, the renunciation of what belongs to the senses. Not till a later time did it embrace it as a whole with all its external belongings, in the system of the Neopythagoreans. Before that time came, thanks to the state of intellectual life and mental development in Greece, it had entered itself on another and a more brilliant career.
Chapter II. Character and Progress of 5th Century BC Greek Philosophy
The age of Socrates inherited from that which had gone before it a rich treasure of religious ideas, of moral principles, and scientific conceptions; at the same time it had declined at every point from the earlier tone of thought and custom. Traditional lines seemed now to be all too narrow; new paths had been discovered; new problems pressed for solution. The legendary ideas respecting the Gods and the state after death, had lost all meaning for the great majority of the educated; 1 the very existence of the Gods had been denied by many; ancient customs had fallen into disuse; the orderliness of civil life, the simplicity and purity of domestic life, had given place to a wanton dissoluteness of conduct, and an unscrupulous pursuit of pleasure and profit. Principles subversive of all law and of all right were being unblushingly advocated with the cheerful approval of the younger generation.
1 Conf. Plato, Rep. i. 330, D.
The severity and grandeur of the earlier art, the lucid beauty, the classic grace, the self-contained dignity of the later art, began to resolve themselves into the study of |37| mere effect; whilst under the influence of sophistry, philosophy had come to disbelieve, not only in individual systems, but also in the whole course of previous enquiry, and even in the possibility of knowledge at all.
Far, however, from being exhausted hereby, the spirit of Greece was only completely delivered by the throes and struggles of the fifth century. Its mental horizon was widened; its thought was sharpened; its views and conceptions enriched. Its whole consciousness had gained a new field since its success in renowned exploits and glorious undertakings. If the meridian of classic art and of free political life was past towards the close of this period, still the newly-awakened culture of the understanding was full of intellectual promise for the future; for sophistry had been destructive, not constructive, only suggesting, not accomplishing. Some new and thorough change was called for to satisfy not only practical but also intellectual requirements. Ancient propriety of conduct, and the received philosophic teaching having been once ousted by the altered spirit of the times, simple return thereto became impossible. But to despair on this account of all knowledge, and of all principles of morality, was most precipitate. Allowing even that the received view of both was inadequate, it by no means followed, that all science, and al morality was impossible. On the contrary, the more the pernicious consequences of such a view were exposed, the more urgent, became the duty of avoiding them by a thorough |38| transformation of the whole tone of feeling and thought, without, however, attempting the impossible task of simply restoring the past.
Philosophical Idealism meets man’s need for metaphysical answers by “grasping the unchangeable essence of things amid changing appearances.”
A. Distinction of Socratic from pre-Socratic Philosophy
(1) Knowledge substituted for tradition. For this purpose some new path must be struck out. What that path should be, a far-sighted eye could discern with sufficient clearness by the aid of the experience of the past. Traditional propriety of conduct had given way before the spirit of innovation, inasmuch as it rested upon instinct and custom, and not on any clear recognition of necessity. He who would undertake a permanent restoration of moral life must found it upon knowledge. Earlier philosophy had been unable to satisfy the requirements of the times, because it had been directed exclusively to a study of nature; because to the mass of men it did not give sufficient preliminary education for the work of life, nor to the thinking spirit any clue to the problem of its being and destiny. New philosophy must meet this want, must direct its attention to the sphere of mind and morals, and work into shape the ample supply of ethical ideas underlying religion, poetry and received custom. Earlier systems had succumbed before the doubts of sophistry, inasmuch as their method was too one-sided, depending too little on definite conceptions respecting the nature and problem of knowledge to be able to withstand a searching criticism which destroyed their several platforms by means of each other, and argued from the change and uncertainty of the phenomena of the senses that knowledge must be impossible. No building that would last could be erected except |39| by laying the foundations deeper, except by finding some means of supplementing these several points of view by each other, of harmonising them when contradictory in some higher bond of union, 1 and of grasping the unchangeable essence of things amid changing appearances. The means wanted was supplied by Dialectic, the art of forming conceptions, and the result was philosophical Idealism. Thus the knowledge of the faults and deficiencies in existing circumstances led naturally to the turn taken by philosophy after the time of Socrates. Scientific ethics became necessary because of the tottering of moral convictions; a wider enquiry, because of the narrowness of the philosophy of nature; a critical method, because of the contradiction of dogmatic systems; a philosophy of conceptions, because of the uncertainty of the observations of the senses; Idealism, because of the unsatisfactory nature of a materialistic view of the world.
(2) Study of conceptions substituted for study of nature. Precisely these features distinguish the Socratic philosophy from that of the previous period. The pre-Socratic philosophy was simply and solely a philosophy of nature; 2 the transitional philosophy of the Sophists was the first to leave nature for ethical and dialectical questions. After Socrates the dialectical tendency is supreme. His own attention was exclusively occupied with determining conceptions, and enquiries respecting virtue.
1 Comp. Zeller’s Phil. der Griechen, Part I. p. 854, 860.
2 In the sense given, ibid. 155.
With rare exceptions the imperfect Socratic schools confined |40| themselves to the same field; Plato, founding his system in conceptions, completing it in morals, forms a marked contrast to the natural philosophers, who went before him. Even in Aristotle who treats of physics in detail and with an evident preference for the subject, they are only a single branch of a system, and in point of value subordinate to metaphysics.
B. Importance of the Doctrine of Conceptions
Such an increase of territory showed that the whole platform of philosophy had changed. Why else should thought have embraced other and more extended materials, had it not been changed in itself, and therefore no longer contented itself with what had been before? For the same reason the philosophic method was a different one. In previous philosophy thought had dealt directly with its object, as such. In the Socratic and post-Socratic systems it deals in the first place with conceptions and only with objects indirectly, through the medium of conceptions. The older systems asked, without further ado, what predicates belonged to things; for instance, whether what is real admits of motion or not—how and out of what the world is made. The Socratic philosophy ever asks, in the first place, what things are in themselves according to their conception, thinking not otherwise to obtain information respecting their properties and conditions than by the help of the conception of things thoroughly mastered. 1
1 Compare, not to mention other passages, the clear statement in the Phaedo, 99, D: After having vainly busied himself with the enquiries of the natural philosophers he declares himself convinced, that he has only got into deeper darkness by directing his enquiries into things in themselves. (τὰ ὄντα σκοπῶν...βλέπων πρὸς τὰ πράγματα τοῖς ὄμμασι καὶ ἑκάστῃ τῶν αἰσθήσεων ἐπιχειρῶν ἅπτεσθαι αὐτῶν.) ἔδοξε δή μοι χρῆναι εἰς τοὺς λόγους καταφυγόντα ἐν ἐκείνοις σκοπεῖν τῶν ὄντων τὴν ἀλήθειαν (the true essence of things), i.e. instead of πράγματα, λόγοι, instead of ὄντα, ἀλήθεια τῶν ὄντων. {“since I had given up investigating realities, I decided that I must be careful not to suffer the misfortune which happens to people who look at the sun and watch it during an eclipse. For some of them ruin their eyes...I thought of that danger, and I was afraid my soul would be blinded if I looked at things with my eyes and tried to grasp them with any of my senses. So I thought I must have recourse to conceptions and examine in them the truth of realities.”}
No conception of a thing can, however, |41| be obtained, except by grouping together its various aspects and qualities, by smoothing down apparent contradictions, by separating what is lasting from what is changing, in a word, by that critical method, which Socrates introduced, and which Plato and Aristotle elaborated and developed.
(1) Definition of a conception. Former philosophers having gone forth from particular prominent features to arrive at the essence of things, and having failed because of their one-sidedness: it was now required that all the properties of an object should be taken into account and weighed from every side, before a judgment could be formed thereupon. Thus the philosophy of conceptions steps into the place of dogmatism. In this way reflection which by means of sophistry had destroyed the older philosophy was taken into the service of the new philosophy; the various aspects under which things may be regarded, were brought together and referred to each other; but not content with the negative conclusion that our notions cannot be true because they contain opposite determinations, the new philosophy aimed at uniting these opposites in one, and showing that true science is not affected by contradiction, inasmuch as it only refers to that which unites opposites in itself, and excludes contradiction. This pursuit of knowledge |42| through conceptions is the common peculiarity of the Socratic, the Platonic, and the Aristotelian philosophy. That the lesser Socratic schools follow the same bent will be seen hereafter.
If only conceptions can give true knowledge, it follows that true being can only belong to that which is known by means of conceptions; that is, to the essence of things, as this presents itself in thought. This essential being cannot, however, be sought for in matter. Anaxagoras had early realised that matter could only become a world by means of spirit; since then the old materialistic physics had been discredited by sophistry; nothing remained but to regard the form and purpose of things, the immaterial part in them as most essential for determining the conceptions, nay, even to assign to it a true reality underlying the appearance. In this way the Socratic philosophy led logically to Idealism.
(2) Theory of conceptions expanded. The beginnings of this Idealism are unmistakable even in Socrates. His indifference to physical enquiries and his preference for ethical ones prove conclusively that he attributed to the inner world a much higher value than to the outer world. Resolve his theory of final causes applied to nature into the metaphysical elements out of which it is composed; the conclusion is inevitable that not the material of which a thing is made, but the conception which gives it shape, makes a thing what it is, and that this accordingly represents its true nature. This Idealism is more pronounced in the school of Megara; and in Plato it runs through all parts of his philosophy |43| side by side with a current of pre-Socratic doctrines. Even Aristotle is not faithless to this view. Whilst denying the independent existence of the Platonic ideas, he nevertheless asserts that reality consists not in matter but in form, and that the highest reality belongs to spirit free from matter. On this ground he states even in his physics, agreeing herein with his predecessors, that final causes are higher than material causes. Compared therefore with the natural philosophers of the pre-Socratic period, even Aristotle may fairly be called an Idealist.
Starting from a consideration of nature, the pre-Socratic philosophy made it its chief business to enquire into the essence and causes of external things, for this purpose going back to their material properties. An entirely different character is displayed in the philosophy founded by Socrates. This begins with the study of self rather than the study of nature—with ethics rather than physics. It aims at explaining phenomena, first of all by means of conceptions, and only in the second place naturally. It substitutes an attitude of enquiry for dogmatic statement, idealism in the place of materialism. Mind is now regarded as the higher element compared with matter. The philosophy of nature has developed into a philosophy of conceptions.
C. Distinction of Socratic From Post-Aristotelian Philosophy
Not that as yet the claim was advanced on behalf of the human mind to be the measure of truth and the end of science. Far from reaching the subjective idealism of Fichte—an idealism in fact only possible in modern times—the philosophy of this period is not nearly so subjective as the post-Aristotelian schools. 1 In them the interests of speculation are subordinated to those of morals; knowledge is regarded only as a means to virtue and happiness; whereas the independent value of science is fully admitted by the great philosophers of the present period. To them knowledge is an end in itself; speculation is the highest and noblest thing; action is made to depend upon knowledge, not knowledge to depend upon the aims of active life. Only a few one-sided followers of Socrates, who, however, prove nothing as to the general tendency, are an exception to this rule.
(1) Knowledge believed to be possible. A simple belief in the possibility of knowledge is here displayed which was wanting in the post-Aristotelian philosophy. The doubts of the Sophists are refuted, but in the mind of the philosopher there is no need of overcoming doubt. The problem proposed is, How can true knowledge be obtained, in what kind of mental representations must it be sought, how must the conception of it be determined? No doubt is felt but that knowledge is really possible. The search for a test—the fundamental question of the later schools—is altogether unknown 2 to the thinkers of this time.
1 Take for instance the Theaetetus; the question raised there as to the conception of knowledge (ἐπιστήμη ὅτι ποτὲ τυγχάνει ὄν.; Theaetetus 145, E) is quite different from the doubt as to the possibility of knowledge involved in the enquiry for a standard. {I am in doubt about and cannot fully grasp by my own efforts—what knowledge really is.}
2 Compare Zeller, l. c.; Introduction to Part II. and I. 137.
Equally unknown to them are the answers to that problem. |45| They did not, as did the Epicureans and Stoics, cut short the question by practically begging it. They did not, as did the Sceptics, despair of knowledge. They did not, as did the Neoplatonists, resort to higher revelations. They were content to look to well-regulated thought for the source of truth. Even that branch of science, the independent pursuit of which was much neglected by later thinkers—physics—was studied in this epoch with success. Socrates and the majority of his pupils may have neglected it, but not so Plato; and Aristotle carries it to a point final in the main for nearly two thousand years. If the post-Aristotelian Ethics proved at last faithless to the principles of the old Greek morality, partly under the influence of a world-wide extension, partly owing to their severance from politics, owing to the withdrawal of the moral consciousness from the outer world, owing to a dumb resignation and a sour asceticism; the difference of epochs in this respect is simply seen by recalling the many-sided sympathies of Socrates, with his cheerful enjoyment of life, and his devoted attachment to his country, or the teaching of Plato concerning the state, or that of Aristotle concerning virtue and society, or the relation of the Cyrenaic to the Epicurean doctrine of happiness. 1
1 Compare Zeller, l. c., i. 139.
(2) Morality not pursued independently. Is it true that the philosophy of this second period attempts in ethics to get beyond the established bounds? It supplements the propriety of custom by a theory of morals and conscious action. It distinguishes |46| more definitely than the ordinary view between the outward deed and the intention. It requires a rising above the life of the senses to what is ideal. Light is thrown on the meaning and motives of moral consciousness. A universal philanthropy is taught, which is not lost in local patriotism; and accordingly the state is only regarded as an institution for the attainment of virtue and happiness, and not as the final moral cause. For all that this period is far removed from the apathy of either Stoic or Epicurean, from the imperturbability of the Sceptic, from the asceticism of the Neoplatonist. It seeks not to sever man in his moral activity from nature; with Aristotle it regards virtue as the perfection of a natural gift; with Plato it advances from the love of what is sensibly beautiful, to the love of what is morally beautiful. It requires the philosopher to work for his fellowmen. The world-citizenship of a later time is absent; absent too is its nationality and political life. Even in this respect, it holds the classic mean between a slavish surrender to the outer world, and a narrow withdrawal therefrom.
Platonic ethics “requires a rising above the life of the senses to what is ideal. Light is thrown on the meaning and motives of moral consciousness.”
Compared with the pre-Socratic era, the age of Socrates is characterised by the diversion of philosophy from external nature to thought or to ideas. Compared with the following age, it is marked by the real character of its thought, that is, by the fact that the thinker is not ultimately thrown back on himself and the certainty of his own knowing, but on attaining to the knowledge of what is in itself real and true. In short its theory of a knowledge of |47| conceptions determines its character. From this theory may be deduced its breadth of view reaching alike beyond the physical one-sidedness of the pre-Socratic, and the moral one-sidedness of the post-Aristotelian schools, its critical method in opposition to the earlier and later dogmatism, and its idealism, transfiguring the whole aspect of the outer world, without, however, entailing any withdrawal therefrom.
D. The Socratic Philosophy Developed
The development of this theory was carried out in a simple and natural order by three philosophic schools, the founders of which belong to three successive generations, and are personally connected as teachers and pupils. 1
1 Compare Zeller, 1, 9, 136, 142.
(1) Socrates. First comes Socrates asserting that the standard of human thought and action lies in a knowledge of conceptions, and teaching his followers to acquire this knowledge by dealing with notions critically. Hence Plato concluded that objective conceptions are in the true sense the only real things, a derivative reality belonging to all other things, a view which he upheld bya more critical analvsis, and developed to a system. Lastly, Aristotle arrived at the conclusion that in a thing the conception itself constitutes its real essence and moving power. By an exhaustive analysis of the scientific method, he showed how conceptions were to be formed and applied to particulars, and by a most comprehensive enquiry into the several parts of the universe, he examined the laws and connection of conceptions, and the thoughts which determine all that really is. Socrates had as yet no system. He |48| had not even any material groundwork. Convinced that only in acquiring conceptions is true knowledge to be found, that true virtue consists in acting according to conceptions, that even the world has been ordered in accordance with definite conceptions, and therefore shows design, in any given case he tries by a critical testing of prevailing notions to gain a conception of the object with which he has to deal, and to this he devotes all his powers, to the conclusion of every other interest. But he never went beyond this formal treatment. His teaching was confined to general requirements and presumptions. His importance lies not in a new view of things, but in a new conception of knowledge, and in the way he forms this conception, in his view of the problem and method of science, in the strength of his philosophical bent, and in the simplicity of his philosophical life.
Plato is soul-based: mind and its ideas are the only real things.
Aristotle is sensory body-based: only form minus matter is absolutely real.
(2) Plato. The Socratic search for conceptions has grown in Plato to a discovery of them, to a certainty of possessing them, and gazing upon them. With him objective thoughts or ideas are the only real things. Mere idealess existence or matter as such is simply non-existent; all things else are made up partly of what is and partly of what is not; they therefore are only real in proportion to the part they have in the idea. Granting that this is in advance of the Socratic view, it is no less certain that it follows logically from that view. The Platonic ideas, as Aristotle rightly understood them, 1
1 Met. i. 6, 987, b, 1.
are the general |49| conceptions, which Socrates had arrived at, separated from the world of appearance.
(3) Aristotle. They are also the central point of the speculations of Aristotle. With him the conception or the form constitutes the essence, the reality, and is as it were the soul of things; only form without matter, simple spirit thinking of itself, is absolutely real; only thought is to man the most intense reality, and therefore also the most intense pleasure in life. Yet there is this difference between Aristotle and Plato, that whereas Plato separates the conception from the appearance, regarding it as independent—as an ἰδέα, Aristotle, places it in things themselves, without, however, implying that form stands in need of matter to become actual, since it is in itself actual. Moreover, Aristotle will not remove the idea out of the world of appearances, because it cannot in a state of separation serve as a connecting link between individual things, nor can it be the cause and substance of things.
Thus the theory is seen to be one and the same which Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle represent at different stages of growth. In Socrates it is undeveloped, but full of vitality, pushing itself forward through the husk of earlier philosophy; in Plato it has grown to a pure and independent existence; and in Aristotle it has overspread the whole world of being and consciousness, exhausting itself in the effort, and moving towards a perfect transformation in later systems. Socrates, so to speak, is the pregnant germ, Plato the rich bloom, Aristotle the ripe |50| fruit of Greek philosophy at the perfection of its historical growth.
(4) Difficulty caused by Socratic Schools. One phenomenon only will not fall into this historical chain, but threatens to break the continuity of Greek thought, viz. the imperfect attempts to expand the Socratic principle which are seen in the Megarian, the Cynic, and the Cyrenaic schools. In these schools a real and essential progress of the philosophic consciousness was not indeed to be found, inasmuch as philosophy, which had arrived at any rate in principle even in the time of Socrates at objective knowledge, such as could only be found in a system, was by them limited to subjective training of thought and character. Nor yet can they be said to be wholly unimportant. For not only were they, at a later period starting points for Stoicism, Epicureanism, and Scepticism, but they also promoted, independently of this, many scientific enquiries, by means of which they exercised an undeniable influence on Plato and Aristotle. The same case occurs elsewhere, and is met with, even in this epoch, in the older Academy, and in the Peripatetic schools, both of which had no independent influence on the growth of philosophy, but yet cannot be overlooked in its history. Of all these phenomena one and the same thing must be said. Their chief importance lies not in their having expanded a principle theoretically, but in their having been practically helpful in advancing it, by preserving the older forms of culture for contemporaries to see, here and there improving and widening them, and by thus keeping the philosopher’s |51| mind in sight of a many-sidedness, without which later systems would never have included the products of the earlier ones.
This permanence of philosophic schools is not therefore met with until philosophy had attained a certain general extension, in Greece not until the time of Socrates and Plato. Whereas Plato, by summing up all the pre-Socratic schools, put an end to their existence; after his time no theory was put forward which did not propagate itself in a school until the time that Neoplatonism put the coping-stone on Greek philosophy, in and with which all previous systems were extinguished. In later times, however many intellectual varieties rise up side by side, only a few of them possess a distinct life of their own. The rest are a traditional revival of previous views, and cannot, in considering the peculiar philosophical character of an age, be taken further into account. They need therefore only to be mentioned by the historian in a passing way. This statement applies to the imperfect followers of Socrates. Their doctrines are not an advancement in principle, but only incomplete reproductions of Socratic views, and connected with Socrates in the same way that the elder Academy is with Plato, or the Peripatetic school with Aristotle.
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Part II. Socrates
Chapter III. The Life of Socrates
There is no instance on record of a philosopher whose importance as a thinker is so closely bound up with his personal character as a man as it was in the case of Socrates. Every system, it is true, as being the work of a definite person, may best be studied in the light of the peculiarities, culture, misfortunes and circumstances of its author; yet in the case of others it is easier to separate the fruits of their intellectual life from the stock on which they grew; doctrines can generally be received and handed down quite unchanged by men of very different characters. In the case of Socrates this is not nearly so easy. His teaching aimed far less at definite doctrines, which can be equally well embraced by different men, than at a special tone of life and thought, at a philosophic character and the art of intellectual enquiry, in short, at a something not to be directly imparted and handed down unaltered, |53| but to be propagated freely, others being stirred up to an analogous development of their peculiarities. So much the more anxious should this make us for detailed information as to the training of a character which has had so powerful an influence on history. Here a very common difficulty meets us. What Socrates was, and how he acted in his riper years, is well known; but only the roughest outline is preserved of the circumstances of his life. Over the earlier part of it deep darkness rests. For the history of his intellectual and moral training, if we except a few scanty and for the most part untrustworthy statements of earlier writers, we are left entirely to conjecture.
“Socrates’ teaching aimed far less at definite doctrines, which can be equally well embraced by different men, than at a special tone of life and thought, at a philosophic character and the art of intellectual enquiry.”
A. Youth and Early Training
The youth and early manhood of Socrates fall in the most brilliant period of Grecian history. Born during the last years of the Persian war, 1
1 The best ascertained date in the life of Socrates is the date of his death. According to Demetrius Phalereus and Apollodorus (in Diog. ii. 44), it happened in Olympiad 95, 1 (Diod. xiv. 37), probably in the second half of the month Thargelion. For at this time must be placed the return of the Delian θεωρὶς, which, according to Plato (Phaedo, 59, D.), arrived the day before the execution of Socrates. Comp. K. F. Hermann, De theoria Deliaca, Ind. Schol. Gotting. 1846. About a month earlier (Xenophon, Mem. iv. 8, 2, says definitely thirty days), i.e. in the month Munychion, the judicial enquiry took place. Socrates must accordingly have been condemned in April or May 399 BC and have suffered death in May or June the same year. Since at the time of his death he had passed his seventieth year (Plato, Apol. 17, D.), but not long (Crito, 52, E. calls him in round numbers seventy), his birth cannot have fallen later than Ol. 77, 3, or 469 BC If his birthday is rightly fixed for the 6th Thargelion (Apoll. in Diog. ii. 44, Plut. Qu. Conv. viii. 1, 1, Aelian, V. H. ii. 25), and was not past at the time of the judicial enquiry, we should have to go back for it to 470 or even 471 BC (Comp. Bickh. Corp. Inscript. ii. 321; Hermann, l. c. 7).
The question then arises whether these statements respecting the time of his birth are facts or a mere fiction; and whether the birthday of Socrates, the μαιευτικός, was not placed on the 6th of Thargelion to make it agree with that of Artemis, as Plato’s was made to agree with Apollo’s. If so, he may have been born in 469 BC (Olym. 77, 3). Anyhow, Apollodorus, placing it in 468 BC (Ol. 77, 4), (Diog. l. c.) is wrong. Nor can the statement noticed by Diogenes that he was only sixty years of age weigh against the clear language of Plato, and probably rests upon a transcriber’s mistake. Hermann’s observation (Plat. Phil. 666, De Philos. Jon. aetat. ii. A. 39) that Socrates could not have been born in the third or fourth year of an Olympiad, since he was twenty-five (Synes. Calv. Enc. c. 17) at the time of his interview with Protagoras, which interview happened (Plato, Parm.) at the time of the Panathenaea, and consequently in the third year of an Olympiad, will not hold water. Supposing the interview to be even a fact, which is very doubtful, the remark of Synesius (Calv. Enc. c. 17) respecting the age of Socrates is a pure guess, and altogether refuted by the language of the Theaetet. 183, F., and the Parmen. 127, C., πάνυ νέος, σϕόδρα νέος.
he was |54| nearly contemporary with all those great men who adorned the age of Pericles. As a citizen of Athens he participated in all those elements of culture, which thanks to its unrivalled fertility of thought, congregated in that great metropolis. If poverty and low birth somewhat impeded his using them, 1.
1 That his father Sophroniscus (Xen. Hellen. i. 7, 15; Plato, Lach. 180, D.; how Epiphanius, Exp. Fid. 1087, A., comes to call him Elbaglus, is difficult to say) was a sculptor, may be gathered from Diog. ii. 18. The services of his mother Phaenarete as a midwife are known from Plato’s Theaetetus, 149, A. As regards circumstances, it is stated by Demetrius Phaler. in Plutarch’s Life of Aristides, c. 1, that he not only possessed land, but had seventy minae—a considerable sum—at interest; but this statement is at variance with the testimony of the best witnesses. The reasons for it are without doubt quite as weak as those for a similar statement respecting Aristides, and arose seemingly from some Peripatetic’s wish to find authorities for his view of the worth of riches. Plato (Apol. 23, B., 38, A.; Rep. i. 337, D.) and Xenophon (Oec. ii. 2; xi. 3; Mem. i. 2, 1) represent him not only as very poor, πάνυ μικρὰ κεκτημένος and ἐν πενία μυρία, but they also give reasons for thinking so. Plato makes him say, perhaps he could pay a fine of a mina, and Xenophon depicts him as estimating his whole property, inclusive of his cottage, at five minae. The story of Libanius (Apol. Socr. t. iii. p. 7), according to which Socrates inherited eighty minae from his father, and lost them by lending, bearing his loss with extreme composure, looks like a story intended to show the indifference of a philosopher to wealth. Had Plato and Xenophon known the story, we may be sure they would not have omitted to tell it.
still |55| in the Athens of Pericles, not even the lowest on the city roll was debarred from enjoying the rich profusion of art, which was for the most part devoted to the purposes of the state, nor yet from associating with men in the highest ranks of life. This free personal intercourse did far more to advance intellectual culture at that time than teaching in schools; Socrates had reached manhood before the Sophists introduced a formal system of instruction. Intelligible as it thus becomes, how an energetic man in the position of Socrates could find many incitements to and means of culture, and how even he ¢ould be carried away by the wonderful elevation of his native city, still nothing very accurate is known respecting the routes by which he advanced to his subsequent greatness. 1 We may suppose that he enjoyed the usual education in gymnastics and music, 2
1 See the work of K. F. Hermann, De Socratis magistris et disciplina juvenili, Marb. 1837.
2 Plato says so plainly in the Crito, 60, D. Even apart from this testimony there could be no doubt. Porphyry’s statement (in Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. i. 29, p. 8)—a statement undoubtedly derived from Aristoxenus—that Socrates was too uneducated to be able to read, need scarcely be refuted by authorities such as Xen. Mem. i. 6, 14; iv. 7, 3, 5. It is clearly an exaggeration of the well-known ὰπαιδευσία (Plato, Symp. 221, E., 199, A., Apol. 17, B.), which only belongs to the satirical outside of the philosopher, but was readily taken hold of and exaggerated by jealousy in later times.
although the stories which are told of his teachers in |56| music 1 deserve no credit. We hear further that he learnt enough of geometry to be able to grapple with difficult problems, and that he was not ignorant of astronomy; 2 but whether he acquired this knowledge in his youth, or only in later years, and who was his teacher, we cannot tell. 3 We see him, in mature years, in relations more or less close with a number of characters who must have exerted a most varied and stirring influence on his mind. 4
1 According to Max. Tyr. xxxviii. 4, Connus was his teacher in music, and Euenus in poetry. Alexander (in Diog. ii. 19) calls him a pupil of Damon, whereas Sertus (Matth. vi. 13) makes Lampo his teacher. All these notices have undoubtedly come from passages in Plato, which are irrelevant. Socrates calls Connus his teacher (Menex. 235, E., and Euthyd. 272, C.), but according to the latter passage he was a man at the time, so that he must have gone to Connus simply with a view to revive a skill long since acquired. It is more probable (however often such notices are given as historical, and with further details: Cic. a Fam. ix. 22; Quint. i. 10; Val. Max. viii. 7; Diog. ii. 32) Stob. Flor. 29, 68) that the passages in Plato refer to the Connus of the comic poet Ameipsias, from which the whole fabrication comes. See Hermann, p. 24. Damon’s name is mentioned in the Laches, 180, D., 197, D.; Rep. iii. 400, B., 424, C., in which passages, however, this musician appears as the friend rather than as the instructor of Socrates, and as an important political character, from his connection with Pericles. The Phaedo, 60, C., and the Apology, 20, A., mention Euenus, yet not as a teacher, and hardly even as an acquaintance of Socrates. And lastly, the Lampo of Sextus probably owes his existence to a mistake. Sextus may have written Damon instead of Connus (Stobeus, Flor. 29, 68, has Connus in the same connection)—or else Lamprus (a name which occurs in the Menexenus, though not as that of a teacher of Socrates), and transcribers made it Lampo. The celebrated prophet of this name cannot of course have been intended.
2 Xen. Mem. iv. 7, 3, 5.
3 Maximus l. c. says Theodore of Cyrene, but this is only an inference from Plato’s Theaetetus, and not warranted by it.
4 For instance, the Sophists Protagoras, Gorgias, Polus, Hippias, Thrasymachus, but especially Prodicus. Cf. Plato, Prot., Gorg., Hip., Rep. i. Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 21; iv. 4, 5, etc. Also Euripides, who was on such intimate terms with him that the comic poets charged him with borrowing his tragedies from Socrates. (Cf. ii, 18; Aelian, V. H. ii. 13. Also Aspasia; cf. Xen. Oec. 3, 14; Mem. ii. 6, 36; Aeschines in Cic. de Invent. i. 31; in Max. Tyr. xxxviii. 4; conf. Hermann De sch. relig. 16 Hermesianax in Athen. xiii. 599, a; Diotima (Plato, Symp.). Respecting several of these we know not whether Plato was true to facts in bringing them into connection with Socrates.
It is beyond |57| doubt that he owed much to such relations; but these friends cannot in strict accuracy be described as his, teachers, although we may often find them so-called; 1 neither is any light derived hence for the history of his early training. We further meet with expressions which show that he must have had a general acquaintance with the views of Parmenides and Heraclitus, of the Atomists, of Anaxagoras, and perhaps of Empedocles. 2 Whence he derived this knowledge, it is impossible to say. The stories that he received instruction In his younger years from Anaxagoras and Archelaus, can neither be supported by satisfactory evidence, nor are they probable in themselves. 3
1 Socrates calls himself in Plato a pupil of Prodicus (Zeller, l. c. 1. 873, D.), of Aspasia (Menex. 235, E.), and of Diotima (Symp. 201, D.), all of which statements have been repeated in past and present times. See Hermann, Soc. Mag. p. 11. We may suppose that the instruction given by the two ladies consisted in free personal intercourse, even allowing that Diotima is a real person, and the Menexenus a genuine dialogue; not only this, but the same applies equally to Prodicus. Maximus calls Ischomachus his teacher in agriculture, but he probably arrived at this conclusion by misunderstanding Xen. Oec. 6, 17. The story that he was a pupil of Diagoras of Melos (the Scholiast on Aristoph. Nubes, v. 828), is obviously false.
2 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 14; iv. 7, 6.
3 The authorities are: for Anaxagoras, Aristid. Or. xlv., p. 21, and the nameless authorities referred to by Diag. ii. 19 and 45, whom Suidas Σωκράτ. according to custom follows; for Archelaus, Diog. ii. 16, 19, 23, x. 12, and those mentioned by him, Io, Aristoxenus, and Diocles. Besides these Cicero, Sextus, Porphyry (in Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 67, p. 175), Clement of Alexandria (Strom. i. 302, A.), Simplicius, Eusebius (Pr. Ev. x. 14, 18, xiv. 15, 11, xv. 61, 11), Hippolytus, the spurious Galen, and a few others; conf. Krische, Forsch. 210. The evidence in favour of Anaxagoras is very insufficient, and the language respecting him used by Socrates (Plato, Phaedo, 97, B. and Xenophon, Mem. iv. 7, 6) makes it improbable that he knew him personally, or was acquainted with his views, except from books and hearsay, which of course does not exclude any casual or accidental intercourse. The traditions respecting his relations to Archelaus are better authenticated; yet even here there is much that is suspicious. Of the two earliest authorities, Io and Aristoxenus, the former, who was an older contemporary of Socrates, does not make Archelaus his instructor. All that is stated in Diog. ii. 23, on his authority, is that Socrates, when a young man, travelled with Archelaus to Samos. This assertion, however, flatly contradicts Plato (Crito, 52, B.), who says that Socrates never left Athens, except once to go to the Isthmian games, or when on military duty. Miller, however, gets over the difficulty (Frag. Hist. Gr. ii. 49, N. 9) by supposing that Plato was only referring to Socrates when grown up.
It is just possible that Plato may not have known of a journey which Socrates took in his earlier years. That he should have knowingly omitted to mention it, as Alberti Socr. 40 supposes, is hardly likely. It is also possible some mistake may have been made. Io may not have meant a journey to Samos, but his taking part in the expedition to Samos of 441 BC, which, strange to say, is not mentioned in the Apology, 28, E. Or the error may lie with Diogenes, who applied to Socrates what Io had said of some one else. Or it may not be the Io of Chios, but some later individual who thus writes of Socrates. Certain it is, that Io’s testimony does not prove Socrates to have been a pupil of Archelaus. Even if the relation were proved to have existed in Socrates’ younger days, it would still be a question whether his philosophy was influenced thereby. Aristoxenus goes further. According to his account in Diog. ii. 16, Socrates was the favourite of Archelaus, or as Porphyry represents the matter, he became acquainted with Archelaus in his seventeenth year, lived with him many years, and was by him initiated into philosophy. We shall have occasion to notice hereafter how little dependence can be placed on the statements of Aristoxenus respecting Socrates. Were the other statement which is to be found in Diogenes closely connected with this one, that Socrates did not become a pupil of Archelaus till after the condemnation of Anaxagoras, its worthlessness would be thoroughly shown; for Socrates was seventeen when Anaxagoras left Athens, and had long passed his years of pupilage. The assertions of Aristoxenus, however, are in themselves improbable. For supposing Socrates to have been on intimate terms with Archelaus, when young, twenty years before Anaxagoras was banished, how is it conceivable that he should not have known Anaxagoras?—and if he was instructed by him in philosophy, how is it that neither Xenophon nor Plato nor Aristotle ever mention Archelaus? All the later authorities for the relation of the two philosophers appear to rest on Aristoxenus. As there is nothing in the teaching of Archelaus, with which the Socratic teaching can be connected, it seems probable that he had little to do with the philosophy of Socrates, even though Socrates may have known him and his teaching. Besides, Socrates (in Xen. Sym.) calls himself an αὐτουργὸς τῆς ϕιλοσοϕίας, a self-taught philosopher.
Still more uncertain is his supposed intercourse |58| with Zeno and Parmenides. Even little is known of the philosophical writings with which he |59| was acquainted. 1 A well-known passage in Plato’s Phaedo 2 describes him as advancing from the older natural science and the philosophy of Anaxagoras to his own peculiar views. But it is most improbable that this passage gives a historical account of his intellectual development, if for no other reason, at least for this one, 3 that the course of development there leads to the Platonic theory of conceptions; let alone the fact that it is by no means certain that Plato himself possessed any fuller information respecting the intellectual progress of his teacher.
No doubt he began life by learning his father’s trade, 4 a trade which he probably never practised,
1 He seems to have known those of Anaxagoras. A supposed allusion to the writings of Heraclitus (in Diag. ii. 22), is uncertain, nor is it established that he ever studied the Pythagorean doctrines (Plu. Curios, 2).
2 96, A.
3 As Volquardsen, (Rhein. Mus. N. F. xix. 514; Alberti Socr. 13; Ueberweg, Unters d. Plat. Schr. 94; Steinhart, Plat. L., 297.
4 Timon and Duris in Diog. ii. 19. Timaeus, according to Porphyry in Cyril c. Jul. 208, A. Plato (Rep. vi. 496, B.) seems to have had the case of Socrates in view.
|60| and certainly soon gave up. 1 Considering it to be his special calling to labour for the moral and intellectual improvement of himself and others, this conviction forced itself so strongly upon him, as to appear to him in the light of a divine revelation. 2 He was, moreover, confirmed therein by a Delphic oracle, which, of course, must not be regarded as the cause of, but rather as an additional support to, his reforming zeal. 3
1 Porphyry leaves it open whether Socrates or his father practised sculpture; nor is anything proved by the story that the Graces on the Acropolis were his work (Diog. Paus. i. 22). No allusions are found in Aristophanes, Plato, and Xenophon to the sculptor’s art. Hence we may conclude that if Socrates ever practised it, he gave it up long before the play of the Clouds was acted. Duris and Demetrius of Byzantium (in Diog. ii. 19), in stating that he was a slave, and that Crito removed him from a workshop and cared for his education, appear to confound him with Phaedo.
2 Plato, Apol. 33, C.: ἐμοὶ δὲ τοῦτο...προστέτακται ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ πράττειν καὶ ἐκ μαντείων καὶ ἐξ ἐνυπνίων καὶ παντὶ τρόπῳ ᾧπέρ τίς ποτε καὶ ἄλλη θεία μοῖρα ἀνθρώπῳ καὶ ὁτιοῦν προσέταξε ποιεῖν.
3 According to the well-known story in the Apol. 20, E., which has been repeated countless times by succeeding writers, the matter stands thus: Chaerephon had asked at Delphi if there were a wiser man than Socrates, and the priestess had answered in the negative. The Iambics which purport to contain the answer in Diog. ii. 37, and Suid. σοϕός belong of course to a much later period. Whereupon, says Socrates, he had thought over the sense of the oracle, and, in the hope of finding it, he had conversed with all who made pretensions to knowledge. At last he has found that neither he himself nor any other man was wise, but that others believed themselves to be wise, whilst he was conscious of his want of wisdom. He considered himself therefore pledged in the service of Apollo to a similar sifting of men, to save the honour of the oracle, which declared him, although one so wanting in wisdom, to be the wisest of men. Allowing that Socrates really said this—and there is no doubt that he uttered it in substance—it by no means follows that his philosophical activity dated from the time of the Pythian oracle. Else what should have led Chaerephon to put the question, or the oracle to give the answer it did? So that if in the apology he speaks as though the Delphic oracle had first aroused him to sift men, it must be a figure of speech. Without going so far as Colotes (in Plut. adv. Col. 17, 1), and Atheneus (v. 218) and many modern writers (Brucker, Hist. Phil. i. 534, Van Dalen and Heumann), and denying the historical character of the oracle altogether—and certainly it cannot be very rigidly proved—we must at least attach no great importance to it. It may have done a similar service to Socrates as his doctor’s degree did to Luther, assuring him of his inward call, but it had just as little to do with making him a philosophical reformer as the doctor’s degree had with making Luther a religious reformer. The story of the response given to his father when he was a boy (Plut. Gen. Socr. c. 20) is altogether a fiction.
How and when this conviction first |61| dawned on him, cannot be determined. Most probably it grew gradually in proportion as he gained more knowledge of the moral and intellectual circumstances of his time, and soon after the beginning of the Peloponnesian war he had found in the main his philosophical centre of gravity. 1
B. Active Life
From that time forward he devoted himself to the mission he had assumed, regardless of everything else. His means of support were extremely scanty, 2 and his domestic life, in company with Xanthippe, was far from happy. 3
1 This is proved by the part which Aristophanes assigns to Socrates in the Clouds. If at that time, 424 BC, he could be described as the chief of the new learning, he must have worked for years according to a definite method, and have gathered about him a circle of friends. In the Connus of Ameipsias, which seems to have been acted at the same time as the Clouds, he likewise appears as a well-known person, and Io in his travelling memorials had previously alluded to him. See p. 56, 1; 57, 3.
2 See p. 54, 1.
3 The name of Xanthippe is not only proverbial now. Later writers of antiquity (Teles. in Stob. Flor. 5, 64; Seneca De Const. 18, 5, Epist. 104, 177; Porphyry (in Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 65); Diogenes (ii. 36); Plutarch (Coh. Ira, 13, 461), who however tells the same of the wife of Pittacus, Tranq. An. ii. 471; Aelian (V. H. xi. 12); Athenaeus (v. 219); Synesius, etc.), tell so many little stories and disgraceful traits of her that one almost feels inclined to take up the cudgels in her behalf, as Hermann has actually done (Acta Phil. i. 103). What Xenophon (Mem. ii. 2; Sym. 2, 10) and Plato (Phaedo, 60, A.) say of her, shows that she cannot have been altogether badly disposed. At least she was solicitous about her family, though at the same time she was extremely violent, overbearing, and hard to deal with. It is remarkable that Aristophanes in the Clouds says nothing of the married life of Socrates, which might have afforded him material for many a joke. Probably Socrates was not then married. His eldest son is called twenty-five years later (Plato, Apol. 34, D.; Phaedo, 60, A.) μειράκιον ἤδη, and there are two young children. Besides Xanthippe, Socrates is said to have had another wife, Myrto, a daughter or granddaughter of Aristides: after Xanthippe according to Aristotle (in Diog. ii. 26; conf. Stob. Floril. 86, 25, Posidon in Ps. Plut. De Nob. 18, 3; less accurate is Plutarch’s Aristid. 27 which Athen. xili. 555 follows); before her according to another view (also in Diog.); and at the same time with her according to Aristoxenus, Demetrius Phaler., Hieronymus Rhod., Satyrus, and Porphyry, in Cyril. c. Jul., vi. 186, D.; so that he had two wives at once. The fallacy of the last view has been already exposed by Panaetius (according to Plut.), and in modern times most thoroughly by Luzac (Lectiones Atticae, Leyden, 1809). Not only is such a thing incompatible with the character of Socrates, but amongst his contemporaries, foes and friends, Xenophon, Plato, Aristophanes, and other comic poets, including Timon, there is no allusion to a relation, which would most undoubtedly have, had it existed, caused a great sensation and have provoked attack and defence, and derision in the highest degree. The laws of Athens never allowed bigamy, and the decree purporting to be in favour of it, by which Hieronymus attempts to give probability to his story (the same to which reference is made by Gell. N. A. xv. 20, 6, from the supposed bigamy of Euripides) either never was passed, or must bear a different meaning. The only question is, whether there can be any foundation for the story, and how its rise can be explained. Shall the Pseudo-Aristotle be believed, who says that Myrto was his second wife, and the two younger sons her children? But this cannot be reconciled with the Phaedo 60, A., let alone the fact that Myrto, as a daughter of Aristides, must have been older than Socrates (whose father in Laches, 180, D, is mentioned as a school companion of her brother), and far too old then to bear children. Or shall it, on the contrary, be conceded (with Luzac) that Myrto was Socrates’ first wife, and that he married Xanthippe after her death? This, too, is highly improbable. For, in the first place, neither Xenophon nor Plato know anything about two wives of Socrates, although the Symposium would have invited some mention of them. In the second place, all the biographers (a few unknown ones in Diogenes excepted), and particularly the Pseudo-Aristotle, from whom all the rest appear to have taken the story, say that he married Myrto after Xanthippe, and that Sophroniscus and Menexenus were her children. Thirdly, Socrates cannot possibly have married the sister or the niece of Lysimachus, the son of Aristides, before the battle of Delium, since at the time of the battle (Lach. 180, D.) he did not know Lysimachus personally. Nor can his first marriage have been contracted after that date, since Xanthippe’s eldest son was grown up at the time of his death. And lastly, in Plato’s Theaetet. 150, E., shortly before his death, Socrates mentions this Aristides, as one of those who had withdrawn from his intellectual influence without detriment to his relationship as a kinsman.
Thus the connection between Socrates and Myrto seems to belong altogether to the region of fable. The most probable account of the origin of the story is the following. We gather from the remains of the treatise περὶ εὺγενείας (Stob. Flor. 86, 24, 26; 88; 13), the genuineness of which was doubted by Plutarch, and certainly cannot be allowed, that this dialogue was concerned with the question, whether nobility belonged to those whose parents were virtuous. Now none were more celebrated for their spotless virtue and their voluntary poverty than Aristides and Socrates. Accordingly the writer brought the two into connection. Socrates was made to marry a daughter of Aristides, and since Xanthippe was known to be his wife, Myrto was made to be his second wife and the mother of his younger children. Others, however, remembered that Xanthippe survived her husband. They thought it unlikely that Socrates should be the son-in-law of a man dead before he was born, and they tried to surmount these difficulties in various ways. As regards the first difficulty, either it was maintained that. Myrto was his second wife and that the younger children were hers, in which case it was necessary to place her side by side with Xanthippe, as Hieronymus actually did, and invented a decree of the people to make it probable; or to avoid romance, this supposition was given up, and Myrto was made to be his first wife, who then can have borne him no children, since Lamprocles, his eldest son, according to Xenophon, was a child of Xanthippe. The second difficulty could be got over either by making Myrto a grand-daughter instead of a daughter of Aristides, the grandson of Aristides the Just. Plato, Lach. 179, A.; Theaet., etc. The former was the usual way. The latter is the view of Athenaeus.
|62| Yet neither her passionate character would he allow to ruffle his philosophic |63| composure, 1 (For note 1 see the next page.) nor could domestic cares hinder the |64| occupation which he recognised to be the business of his life. His own concerns were neglected lest he should omit anything in the service of God. 2 To be independent, he tried, like the Gods, to rise superior to wants; 3 and by an uncommon degree of self-denial and abstemiousness, 4 he so far succeeded that he could boast of living more pleasantly and more free from troubles than any one else. 5 It was thus possible for him to devote his whole powers to the service of others without asking or taking reward; 6
1 See Xenophon l. c., not to mention later anecdotes respecting this subject.
2 Plato, Apol. 23, B.; 31, B.
3 Conf. Xen. Mem. i. 6, 1-10, where he argues against Antiphon, that his is a thoroughly happy mode of life, ending with the celebrated words: τὸ μὲν μηδενὸς δεῖσθαι θεῖον εἶναι, τὸ δ᾽ ὡς ἐλαχίστων ἐγγυτάτω τοῦ θείου.
4 The contentment of Socrates, the simplicity of his life, his abstinence from sensual pleasures of every kind, his scanty clothing, his walking barefoot, his endurance of hunger and thirst, of heat and cold, of deprivations and hardships, are well known. Conf. Xen. Mem. i. 2, 1; 3, 5; Plato, Symp. 174, A., 219, B.; Phaedrus, 229, A.; Aristoph. Clouds, 103, 361, 409, 828, Birds 1282,
5 Xen. Mem. i. 6, 4; iv. 8, 6.
6 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 5; i. 5, 6; i. 6, 3; Plato, Apol. 19, D. 31; B.; 33, A.; Euthypro, 3, D.; Symp. 219, E. In the face of these distinct testimonies, the statement of Aristoxenus (Diag. ii. 20) that from time to time he collected money from his pupils, can only be regarded as a slander. It is possible that he did not always refuse the presents of opulent friends—(Diog. ii. 74, 121, 34; Sen. de Benef. i. 8; vii. 24; Quintil. Inst. xii. 7, 9). Questionable anecdotes (Diog. ii. 24, 31, 65; Stob. Flor. 3, 61; 17, 17) would prove nothing, to the contrary, but no dependence can be placed on these authorities. He is said to have refused the splendid offers of the Macedonian Archelaus and the Thessalian Scopas (Diog. ii. 25; Sen. Benef. v. 6; Arrian or Plut. in Stob. Floril. 97, 28; Dio Chrys. Or. xiii. 30), and this tale is confirmed as far as the first-named individual is concerned by Aristotle, Rhet. ii. 23, in a passage which Bayle, Dict. Archelaus Rem. D. disputes without reason.
and this |65| occupation so confined him to his native city that he rarely passed its boundaries or even its gates. 1
To take part in the affairs of the state 2 he did not, however, feel a call; not only holding it to be impossible to act as a statesman 3 in the Athens of that day without violating his principles, and loathing submission to the demands of a pampered mob; 4 but far more because he recognised his own peculiar task to lie in something very different. Any one sharing his conviction that care for one’s own culture must be preferred to all care for public affairs, and that a thorough knowledge of self, together with a deep and many-sided experience, is a necessary qualification for public life, 5 must regard the influencing of individuals as a far more important business than the influencing of the community, which without the other would be profitless; 6 must consider it a better service to his country to educate able statesmen than actually to discharge a statesman’s duties, 7
1 In the Crito, 52, B.; 53, A., he says, that except on military duty he has only once left Athens, going asadeputy to the Isthmian games, From the Phaedrus, 230, C., we gather that he rarely went outside the gates.
2 Plato, Apol. 31, C.
3 Plato, Apol. 31, D.; Rep. vi. 496, C.; Gorg. 521. C.
4 Plato, Apol. 33, A., or as the Gorgias (473, E.) ironically expresses it: because he was too plain for a statesman. Conf. Gorg. 521, D.
5 Plato, Apol. 36, Symp. 216, A.; Xen. Mem. iv. 2, 6; iii. 6.
6 Plato, Apol. 29, C.; 30, D.; 33, C. Gorg. 513, E.
7 Xen. Mem. i. 6, 15.
Anyone so thoroughly fitted by nature, taste, tone of thought and character, to elevate the morality and develop the intellect in others by means of personal intercourse, could hardly feel at home in |66| any other line of life. 1 Accordingly, Socrates never attempted to move from his position as a private citizen. By serving in several campaigns with the greatest bravery and endurance, 2 he discharged his duties to his country.
1 Socrates asserts this in Plato quite explicitly. In Apol. 31, D., he remarks that his δαιμόνιον sent him back from a public life, and wisely too; for in a career spent in opposing the passionate impulses of the masses he would long since have been ruined. The δαιμόνιον which deters him is the sense of what is suited to his individuality. That this sense conducted him rightly, is proved by the consideration that a public career, had he taken to it, would not only have been unsuccessful in his case, but would also have been most injurious for himself; and Socrates usually estimates the moral value of conduct by success. If this consideration, as it no doubt did, confirmed his dislike to a public career, still the primary cause of this dislike, the source of that insuperable feeling, which as a δαιμόνιον preceded every estimate of consequences, was without doubt something immediate. Had a public position suited his character as well as the life he chose, he would as little have been deterred by its dangers, as he was by the dangers of that which he adopted (Apol. 29, B.). He states, however, that his occupation afforded him great satisfaction with which he could not dispense, Apol. 38, A. 8 ὅτι καὶ τυγχάνει μέγιστον ἀγαθὸν ὂν ἀνθρώπῳ τοῦτο, ἑκάστης ἡμέρας περὶ ἀρετῆς τοὺς λόγους ποιεῖσθαι καὶ τῶν ἄλλων περὶ ὧν ὑμεῖς ἐμοῦ ἀκούετε διαλεγομένου καὶ ἐμαυτὸν καὶ ἄλλους ἐξετάζοντος, ὁ δὲ ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ.
2 See the stories in Plato, Symp. 219, E.; Apol. 28, E.; Charm. i.; Lach. 181, A. Of the three expeditions mentioned in the Apology, that to Potidea, 432 BC, that to Delium, 424 BC, and that to Amphipolis, 422 BC, the two first are fully described. At Potidsea Socrates rescued Alcibiades, but gave up in his favour his claim to the prize for valour. His fearless retreat from the battle of Delium is mentioned with praise. Antisthenes (in Athen. v. 216, b) refers the affair of the prize to the time after the battle of Delium. Probably Plato is right, being generally well-informed on these matters. The doubts which Athenaeus raises respecting Plato’s account are trivial. Naturally, however, other accounts derived from his account cannot be quoted in support of it. The story that Socrates rescued Xenophon at Delium (Strabo, ix. 2, 7; Diog.) seems to confound Xenophon with Alcibiades.
As a citizen he met |67| unrighteous demands alike of an infuriated populace and of tyrannical oligarchs, in every case of danger, 1 firmly and fearlessly; but in the conduct of affairs he declined to take part.
Nor would he appear as a public teacher after the manner of the Sophists. He not only took no pay, but he gave no methodical course, 2 not professing to teach, but only to learn in common with others; not to force his convictions upon them, but to examine theirs; not to pass the truth that came to hand like a coin fresh from the mint, but to awaken a taste for truth and virtue, to show the way thereto, to overthrow spurious, and to discover real knowledge. 3 Never weary of converse, he eagerly seized every opportunity of giving an instructive and moral turn to conversation. Day by day he was about in the market and public promenades, in schools and workshops, ever ready to have a word with friend or stranger, with citizen or foreigner, but always prepared to give an intellectual or moral turn to the conversation. 4 Whilst thus serving God
1 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 18, and 2, 31; iv. 4, 2; Hellen. i. 7, 15; Plato, Apol. 32, A.; Gorg. 473, E.; epist. Plat. vii. 324, D.; see also Luzac, De Socrate cive, 92-123; Grote’s Hist. of Greece, viii. 238-285.
2 Plato, Apol. 33, A.: ἐγὼ δὲ διδάσκαλος μὲν οὐδενὸς πώποτ᾽ ἐγενόμην: εἰ δέ τίς μου λέγοντος καὶ τὰ ἐμαυτοῦ πράττοντος ἐπιθυμοῖ ἀκούειν…οὐδενὶ πώποτε ἐφθόνησα, ibid. 19 D. Xen. Mem. i, 2, 3 and 31. The assertion of the Epicurean Idomeneus, and of Favorinus in Diog. ii. 20, that he gave instruction in rhetoric, needs no further refutation.
3 Proofs in all the dialogues, See particularly Plato, Apol. 21, B.; 23 B.; 29, D.; 30, E.; Rep. i. 336, B. The Socratic method will be discussed hereafter.
4 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 10; iii. 10; Plato, Symp., Lysis., Charmides, Phedrus, Apol. 23, B.; 30, A. The pacrporela which Socrates boasts of, Xen. Symp. 3, 10; 4; 56, 8, 5, 42, is nothing else, this art consisting in making friends lovable, by virtue and prudence.
|68| in his higher calling, he was persuaded that he was also serving his country in a way that no one else could do. 1 For deeply as he deplored the decline of discipline and education in his native city, 2 on the moral teachers of his time, the Sophists, 3 he could place no reliance. The attractiveness of his discourse won for him a circle of admirers, for the most part consisting of young men of family, 4 drawn to him by the most varied motives, standing to him in various relations, and coming to him, some for a longer, others for a shorter time. 5 For his part, he was anxious not only to educate these friends, but to advise them in everything pertaining to their good, even in worldly matters. 6 Out of this changing, and in part only loosely connected society, a nulceus was gradually formed of. decided admirers,—a Socratic school, united, however, far less by a common set of doctrines, than by a common love for the person of its founder. With more intimate friends he frequently had common meals, 7 which, however, can scarcely have been a fixed institution. Such as appeared to him to require other branches of.
1 Plato, Apol. 30, A.; Conf. 36, C.; 39, 3; 41, D.; Gorg. 521, D.
2 Xen. Mem. iii. 6, 13.
3 Mem. iv. 4, 5, which is not at variance with Plato, Apol. 19, D, nor yet with the passages quoted p. 69, 1.
4 Plato, Apol, 28, C., οἱ νέοι μοι ἐπακολουθοῦντες—οἷς μάλιστα σχολή ἐστιν, οἱ τῶν πλουσιωτάτων. Still we find among his ardent admirers, not only Antisthenes, but also Apollodorus and Aristodemus, who appear according to Plato, Symp. 173, 8, to have been equally poor.
5 Conf. Xen. Mem. i. 2, 14; iv. 2, 40; Plato, Theaet. 150, D.
6 Conf. examples, Mem. ii. 3, 7, 8, 9; iii. 6, 7.
7 Xen. Mem. iii. 14.
|69| instruction, or whom he believed unsuited for intercourse with himself, he urged to apply to other teachers, either in addition to or in place of himself. 1 Until his seventieth year he followed this course of action with his powers of mind unimpaired. 2 The blow which then put an end to his life and his activity will be mentioned hereafter.
1 Plato, Theaetet. 151, B.; Xen. Mem. iii. 1; Symp. 4, 61.
2 Xenophon and Plato mostly represent Socrates as an old man (such as he was when they knew him), without showing any trace of weakness in his.mental powers up to the last moment. That it was a wrong view is distinctly stated in Mem. iv. 8, 8.
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Chapter IV. Character of Socrates
A. Greatness of the Character of Socrates
Ancient writers speak of the character of Socrates in terms of the greatest respect. There are, however, some exceptions, quite apart from the prejudice occasioned by his condemnation, which no doubt survived some time after his death. Followers of Epicurus indulged their love of slander even at his expense, 1 and one voice from the Peripatetic School has scandalous stories to tell respecting his life: as a boy he was disobedient and refractory; as a youth, profligate; as a man, coarse, importunate, given to sudden bursts of anger, and of fiery passions. 2
1 Cicero de N. D. i. 34, says that his teacher, the Epicurean Zeno, called him an Attic buffoon. Epicurus, however, according to Diog. x. 8, appears to have spared him, although he depreciated every other philosopher.
2 The source from which these unfavourable reports, collected by Luzac, come is Aristoxenus, Lect. Att. 246 (from whom we have already heard similar things, p. 58, note; 61, 3; 64, 5). From this writer come the following statements; that mentioned in Porphyry: ὡς ϕύσει γεγόνοι τραχὺς εἰς ὀργήν, καὶ ὁπότε κρατηθείη τῷ πάθει διὰ πάσης.ἀσχημοσύνης ἐβάδιζεν—Synesius (Enc. Galv. 81) will have this limited to his younger years; that of Cyril. c. Jul. vi. 185, C.; Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii., 63, p. 174: ὅτε δὲ ϕλεχθείη ὑπὸ τοῦ πάθους τούτου δεινὴν εἶναι τὴν ἀσχημοσύνην· οὐδενὸς γὰρ οὔτε ὀνόματος ὰποσχέσθαι οὔτε πράγματος; and another of Cyril. 186, C. Theod. l. c.) that Socrates was in other ways temperate, πρὸς δὲ.τὴν των ἀϕροδισίων χρῆσιν σϕοδρότερον μὲν εἶναι, ὰδικίαν δὲ μὴ προσεῖναι, ἢ γὰρ ταῖς κοιναῖς χρῆσθαι μόναις, and then after the history of his bigamy he concludes: εἶναι δὲ ϕησιν αὐτὸν ἐν ταῖς ὁμιλίας αἰνῶς τε ϕιλαπχθήμονα καὶ λοίδορον καὶ ὑβριστικόν. From the same source, as may be gathered from Plut. Mal. Her. c. 9, p. 856, comes the charge which Theod. l. c. I. 29, p. 8 quotes from Porphyry, without naming Aristoxenus, εἶναι δὲ αὐτὸν πρὸς οὐδὲν μὲν ἀϕυῆ, ὰπαίδευτον δὲ περὶ πάντα, so that he was hardly able to read, besides what follows (ibid. xii. 66, p. 174; conf. iv. 2, p. 56): ἐλεγιτο δὲ περὶ αὐτοῦ ὡς ἄρα παῖς ὢν οὐκ εὖ βιώσειεν οὐδὲ εὐτάκτως· πρῶτου μὲν γὰρ ϕασιν αὐτὸν τῷ πατρὶ διατελέσαι, ἀπειθοῦντα καὶ ὁπότε κελεύσειεν αὐτὸν λαβόντα τὰ ὂργανα τὰ περὶ τὴν τέχνην ὰπαντᾶν ὁπουδήποτε ὀλιγωρήσαντα τοῦ προστάγματος περιτρέχειν αὐτὸν ὁπουδήποτε δόξειεν...ἧν δὲ καὶ τῶν ἐπιτιμωμένων καὶ τάδε Σωκράτει ὅτι εἰς τοὺς ὅχλους εἰσωθεῖτο καὶ τὰς διατριβὰς ἐποιεῖτο πρὸς ταῖς τραπέζαις πρὸς ταῖςΈρμαῖς. Herewith is connected the story of the physiognomist Zopyrus. (Cic. Tusc. vi. 37, 83; De Fat. iv. 10; Alex. Aph. De Fato, vi., Pers. Sat. IV. 24 Conf.; Max. Tyr. xxxi. 3), who declared Socrates to be stupid and profligate, and received from him the answer, that by nature he had been so, but had been changed by reason. This account can hardly be true. It looks as if it had been devised to illustrate the power of reason over a defective natural disposition, as illustrated in Plato, Symp. 215, 221, B. If the story was current in the time of Aristoxenus, he may have used it for his picture; but it is also possible that his description produced the story, which in this case would have an apologetic meaning. The name of Zopyrus would lead us to think of the Syrian magician, who, according to Aristotle in Diog. ii. 45, had foretold the violent death of Socrates.
|71| the stories we have of this kind are so improbable, and the chief relater is so untrustworthy, 1 that we cannot even with certainty 2 infer that Socrates only became what he was after a severe struggle 3
1 As may be already seen from the stories respecting the bigamy, the gross ignorance, the violent temper, and the sensual indulgences of Socrates.
2 As Hermann does, De Socr. Mag. 30.
3 Though this is in itself possible, we have no certain authority for such an assertion. The anecdote of Zopyrus is, as already remarked, very uncertain, and where is the warrant that Aristoxenus followed a really credible tradition? He refers, it is true, to his father Spintharus, an actual acquaintance of Socrates. But the question arises whether this statement is more trustworthy than the rest. The chronology is against it, and still more so is the substance of what Spintharus says. It may also be asked whether Spintharus spoke the truth, when he professed to have witnessed outbursts of anger in Socrates, who must then have been in the last years of his life. Certainly we have no more reason to believe him than his son. Lastly, Aristoxenus does not confine his remarks to the youth of Socrates, but they are of a most general character, or refer distinctly to his later years. Luzac, l. c. 261, would appear to have hit the truth when he makes Aristoxenus responsible for all these statements. For Aristoxenus appears not only to have carried his warfare with the Socratic Schools against the person of Socrates, but also to have indulged in the most capricious and unfounded misapprehensions and inferences. His overdrawn imagination makes Socrates as a boy dissatisfied with his father’s business, and as a man pass his life in the streets. In the same way he finds that Socrates must have been a man without culture, because of expressions such as that in the Apology, 17, B., or that in the Symp. 221, E.; 199, A.; violent in temper, in support of which he refers to Symp. 214, D.; and dissolute because of his supposed bigamy, and the words in Xen. Mem. i. 3, 14; ii. 2, 4, and p. 51, 2.
with his |72| natural disposition. Our best authorities only know him as the perfect man, to whom they look up with respect, and whom they regard as the exemplar of humanity and morality. ‘No one,’ says Xenophon, ‘ever heard or saw anything wicked in Socrates; so pious was he that he never did anything without first consulting the Gods; so just that he never injured any one in the least; so master of himself that he never preferred pleasure to goodness; so sensible that he never erred in his choice between what was better and what was worse. In a word, he was of men the best and happiest.’ 1
1 Mem. i, 1, 11; iv. 8, 11. R. Lange’s objections to the genuineness of the concluding chapters of the Memorabilia (iv. 8) (De Xenoph. Apol. Berl. 1873) do not appear sufficiently strong to preclude their being cited as an authority.
He further represents Socrates as a pattern of hardiness, of self-denial, of self-mastery; as a man |73| of piety and love for his country, of unbending fidelity to his convictions, as a sensible and trustworthy adviser both for the bodies and souls of his friends; as an agreeable and affable companion, with a happy combination of cheerfulness and seriousness; above all, as an untiring educator of character, embracing every opportunity of bringing all with whom he came into contact to self-knowledgé and virtue, and especially opposing the conceit and thoughtlessness of youth.
Plato says the same of him. He too calls his teacher the best, the most sensible, and the most just man of his age, 1 and never tires of praising his simplicity, his moderation, his control over the wants and desires of the senses; imbued with the deepest religious feeling in all his doings, devoting his whole life to the service of the Gods, and dying a martyr’s death because of his obedience to the divine voice; and like Xenophon, he describes this service as the exercise of a universal moral influence on others, and particularly on youth. In his picture, too, the more serious side in the character of Socrates is relieved by a real kindness, an Athenian polish, a sparkling cheerfulness and a pleasing humour. Of his social virtues and his political courage Plato speaks in the same terms as Xenophon, and adds thereto an admirable description of Socrates on military service. 2
1 See the end of the Phaedo.
2 See page 66, note 2.
Every trait which he mentions adds to the clearness of that picture of moral greatness, so wonderful for |74| its very originality, for the absence of all that is studied and artificial about it, for its exclusion of self-glorification and affectation. 1
B. Greek Peculiarities in His Character
Owing to its being a native growth, the Socratic type of virtue bears, throughout, the peculiar impress of the Greek mind. Socrates is not the insipid ideal of virtue, which a superficial rationalism would make of him, but he is a thorough Greek and Athenian, taken, as it were, from the very marrow of his nation, possessed of flesh and blood, and not merely the universal moral standard for all time. His much-lauded moderation is free from the ascetic element, which it seems always to suggest in modern times. Socrates enjoys good company, although he avoids noisy carousals; 2 and if he does not make the pleasures of the senses an object in life, no more does he avoid them, when they are offered to him, nay, not even when in excess.
1 Most of the traits and anecdotes recorded by later writers are in harmony with this view of Socrates. Some of them are certainly fictions. Others may be taken from writings of pupils of Socrates, which have been since lost, or from other trustworthy sources. They may be found in the following places. Cic. Tusc. iii. 15, 31; Off. i. 26 and 90; Seneca, De Const. 18, 5; De Tra. i. 15, 3; iii. 11, 2; ii. 7, 1; Tranqu. An. 5, 2; 17, 4; Epist. 104, 27; Plin. H. Nat. vii. 18; Plut. Educ. Pu. 14, p. 10; De Adulat. 32, p. 70; Coh. Ira, 4, p. 455; Tranqu. An. 10, p. 471; Garrulit. 20; Diog. ii. 21, 24, 27, 30; vi. 8; Gell. N. A. ii. 1; xix. 9, 9; Val. Max. viii. 8; Aelian, V. H. i. 16; ii. 11, 13, 36; iii. 28; ix. 7, 29; xii. 15; xill. 27, 32; Athen. iv. 157 c.; Stob. Flor. 17, 17 and 22. Basil. De leg. Graec. libr. Op. II. 179, a. Themist. Orat. vii. 95, a. Simpl. in Epict. Enchir. c., 20, p. 218. A few others have been or will be referred to.
2 Plato, Symp. 220, A.; conf. 174, A.
Thus the call for small cups in Xenophon’s banquet is not made for fear of indulging |75| too largely, but that exhilaration may not be too rapid. 1 Plato describes him as boasting that he can equally well take much or little, that he can surpass all in drinking, without ever being intoxicated himself, 2 and represents him at the close of the banquet as leaving all his companions under the table, and pursuing his daily work, after a night spent over the bowl, as if nothing had happened. Moderation here appears with him not to consist in total abstinence from pleasure, but in perfect mental freedom, neither requiring pleasure, nor being ever overtaken by its seductive influence. His abstemiousness in other points is also recorded with admiration. 3 Numerous passages, however, in Xenophon’s ‘Memorabilia’ 4 prove that his morality was far below our strict standard of principles. The Grecian peculiarity of affection for boys, marks indeed, his relations to youth, but his character is above all suspicion of actual vice, 5
1 Xen. Mem. 2, 26: ἢν δέ ἡμῖν οἱ παῖδες μικραῖς κύλιξι πυκνὰ ἐπιψεκάζωσιν, οὕτως οὐ βιαζόμενοι ὑπὸ τοῦ μεθύειν, ἀλλ' ἀναπειθόμενοι πρὸς τὸ παιγνι ωδέστερον ὰϕιξόμεθα.
2 Symp. 176, C.; 220, A.; 213, E.
3 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 1; 3, 14. We have already seen that Aristoxenus and his followers cannot prove the contrary.
4 i. 3, 14; 3 ii. 1, 5; 2, 4; iii 11; iv. 5, 9. Conf. Conv. iv. 38.
5 The contemporaries of Socrates seem to have found nothing to object to in Socratic affection. Not only is there no allusion to it in the judicial charge, but not even in Aristophanes, who would undoubtedly have magnified the smallest suspicion into the gravest charge. The other comic poets, according to Athen, v. 219, knew nothing of it. Nor does Xenophon deem it necessary to refute this calumny, and therefore the well-known story of Plato’s banquet has for its object far more the glorification than the justification of his teacher. On the other hand, the relations of Socrates to Alcibiades, in the verses purporting to be written by Aspasia, which Athenaeus communiecates on the authority of Herodicus, have a very suspicious look, and Tertullian Apol. c. 46 mistakenly applies the words διαϕθείρειν τοὺς νέους to paederastia. In Juvenal (Sat. ii. 10) Socratici cinoedi refer to the manners of his own time.
and he treats with irony a supposed |76| love-affair of his own. 1 At the same time, what Greek in the presence of youthful beauty was proof against a certain element of esthetic pleasure, which at least was the ground and origin, even though (as in his case) an innocent one, of deeper affection? 2 The odious excrescences of Greek morality called forth his severest censure; yet at the same time, according to Xenophon, 3 and Aeschines, 4 and Plato, 5 Socrates described his own relations to his younger friends by the name of Eros, or a passionate attachment grounded on esthetic attractions. Not otherwise may Grecian peculiarities be noticed in his ethical or political views, nor is his theology free from the trammels of the popular belief. How deeply these lines had influenced his character may be seen not only in his simple obedience 6 to the laws of his country throughout life, and bis genuine respect for the state religion, 7
1 Xen. Mem. iv. 1, 2; Symp. 4, 27; Plato, Symp. 213, C.; 216, D.; 222, B.; Charm. 155, D.
2 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 29; 3, 8; Sym. 8, 19, 32, with which Plato agrees.
3 Symp. 8, 2 and 24; Mem. iv. 1, 2.
4 In his Alcibiades he speaks of the love of Socrates for Alcibiades. See Arisistid. Or. xlv. περὶ ῥητορικῆς, p. 30, 34.
5 Prot. beginning; Symp. 177, D.; 218, B.; 222, A.; not to mention other expressions for which Plato is answerable.
6 Plato, Apol. 28, E.
7 Xenophon, Mem. i. 1, 2, assures us not only that Socrates took part in the public sacrifices, but that he was frequently in the habit of sacrificing at home. In Plato he invokes Helios, Symp. 220, D.; and his last words, according to the Phaedo, 118, A., were an earnest commission to Crito to offer a cock to Aesculapius. Often is belief in oracles mentioned, which he always conscientiously obeyed (Mem. i. 3, 4; Plato, Apol. 21, B.) and the use of which he recommended to his friends (Xen. Mem. ii. 6, 8; iv. 7, 10; Anabas. iii. 1, 5). He was himself fully persuaded that he possessed an oracle in the truest sense, in the inward voice of his δαιμόνιον, and he also believed in dreams and similar prognostications. (Plato, Crito, 44, A.; Phaedo, 60, D.; Apology 33, C.)
but far more also in the trials of |77| his last days, when for fear of violating the laws, he scorned the ordinary practices of defence, and after his condemnation refused to escape from prison. 1 The epitaph which Simonides inscribed on the tomb of Leonidas might very well be inscribed on that of Socrates: He died to obey the state. 2
C. Prominent Features in His Character
Deeply as Socrates is rooted in the national character of Greece, there is about him a something decidedly unlike a Greek, presenting a foreign and even almost modern appearance. This it was which made him appear to his contemporaries a thoroughly eccentric and singular person. This, for a Greek so unintelligible, something, which he described by one word as his singularity 3 consisted, according to Plato’s account, 4 in a want of agreement between his outward appearance and his
1 This motive is represented by Xenophon (Mem. iv. 4, 4) and Plato (Apol. 34, D.: Phaedo, 98, C.) as the decisive one, although the Crito makes it appear that a flight from Athens would have done no good to himself, and much harm to his friends and dependants. The Apology speaks as if entreating the judges were unworthy of the speaker and his country.
2 Xen. says:προείλετο μᾶλλον τοῖς νόμοις ἐμμένων ἀποθανεῖν ἢ παρανομῶν ζῆν.
3 Plato, Symp. 221, C.: πολλὰ μὲν οὖν ἄν τις καὶ ἄλλα ἔχοι Σωκράτη ἐπαινέσαι καὶ θαυμάσια…τὸ δὲ μηδενὶ ἀνθρώπων ὅμοιον εἶναι, μήτε τῶν παλαιῶν μήτε τῶν νῦν ὄντων, τοῦτο ἄξιον παντὸς θαύματος.…οἷος δὲ οὑτοσὶ γέγονε τὴν ἀτοπίαν ἅνθρωπος, καὶ αὐτὸς καὶ οἱ λόγοι αὐτοῦ, οὐδ᾽ ἐγγὺς ἂν εὕροι τις ζητῶν, οὔτε τῶν νῦν οὔτε τῶν παλαιῶν.
4 Symp. 215, A.; 221, E.
|78| inward and real nature. In this respect he contrasts most strikingly with the mutual interpenetration of both, which constitutes the usual classic ideal. On the one hand we behold in Socrates indifference to the outer world, originally foreign to the habits of his countrymen; on the other hand, a meditativeness unknown before. Owing to the former feature there is about him a something prosy and dry, and, if the expression may be allowed, Philistine-like, sharply contrasting with the contained beauty and the artistic grace of life in Greece. Owing to the latter there is about him something akin to the revelation of a higher life, having its seat within, in the recesses of the soul, and not fully explained in its manifestations, and which even Socrates himself regarded as superhuman. In their account of these two peculiarities both Plato and Xenophon are agreed. Even from an outward point of view, the Silenus-like appearance of Socrates, which Plato’s Alcibiades, 1 and Xenophon’s Socrates himself 2 describe with so much humour, must rather have concealed than exposed the presence of genius to the eye of a Greek. But more than this, a certain amount of intellectual stiffness, and an indifference to what is sensibly beautiful, is unmistakeable in his speech and behaviour. Take for instance the process of catechising given in the ‘Memorabilia,’ 3
1 Symp. 215; conf. Theaet. 14, 3, E.
2 Symp. 4, 19; 2, 19; Epictetus (Diss. iv. 11, 19) gives Socrates a pleasing appearance, but this is of course quite untenable.
3 iii. 3.
by which a general of cavalry is brought to a knowledge of his |79| duties, or the formality with which things, 1 long familiar to his hearers, are proved, or the way in which the idea of the beautiful is resolved into that of the useful. 2 Or hear him, on grounds of expediency, advising conduct, which to us seems simply abominable, 3 or in the Phaedrus 4 refusing to walk out because he can learn nothing from trees and the country, and taking exception in the Apology 5 to the works of poets and artists, because they are the results of natural genius and inspiration, and not of reflection. 6 Or see him in Xenophon’s Symposium, 7 despite the universal custom of the ancients, 8 dancing alone at home, in order to gain healthful exercise, and justifying his conduct by the strangest of reflections; unable even at table 9 to forget considerations of utility.
1 Symp. iii. 10, 9; iii. 11.
2 iii. 8, 4.
3 i. 3, 14.
4 230, D.
5 This point will be subsequently discussed.
6 22, C.
7 2, 17.
8 Compare Menexenus, 236, C.: ἀλλὰ μέντοι σοί γε δεῖ χαρίζεσθαι, ὥστε κἂν ὀλίγου, εἴ με κελεύοις ἀποδύντα ὀρχήσασθαι, χαρισαίμην ἄν; and Cicero pro Mur. 6: Nemo fere saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit; De Offic. iii. 19: Dares hanc vim M. Crasso, in foro, mihi crede, saltaret; Plut. De vit. jud. 16, 533, also the expressions in Xenophon: Ὀρχήσομαι νὴ Δία. Ἐνταῦθα δὴ ἐγέλασαν ἅπαντες. And when Charmides found Socrates dancing: τὸ μένγε πρῶτον ἐξεπλάγην καὶ ἔδεισα, μὴυ μαίνοιο, κ.τ.λ. Of the same character was his instruction in music under Connus, if the story were only true of his having received lessons with the schoolboys. Plato, Euthyd. 272, C.
9 Xen. Symp. 3, 2.
Taking these and similar traits into account, there appears in him a certain want of imagination, a one-sided prominence of the critical and intellectual faculties, in short a prosiness which clashes with the poetry of Grecian life, and the |80| refined taste of an Athenian. Even Plato’s Alcibiades 1 allows, that at first sight the discourses of Socrates appear ridiculous and rude, dealing as they invariably do with beasts of burden, smiths, tailors, and tanners, and apparently saying the same thing in the same words. Was not this the very objection raised by Xenophon? 2 How strange that plain unadorned common sense must have appeared to his contemporaries carefully avoiding all choice figures, and using the simplest and most common expressions.
This peculiarity was not, however, the result of any lack of taste, but of the profound originality of his ideas, for which customary figures were insufficient. Yet again, sometimes the soul of the philosopher, diving into its own recesses, so far lost itself in this labour as to be insensible to external impressions, and at other times gave utterance to enigmatical sayings, which appeared strange to it in a wakeful state. Serious and fond of meditation 3 as was Socrates,
1 Symp. 221, E. Conf. Kallicles in Gorgias 490, C.: περὶ σιτία, λέγεις, καὶ ποτὰ καὶ ἰατροὺς καὶ φλυαρίας…ἀτεχνῶς γε ἀεὶ σκυτέας τε καὶ κναφέας καὶ μαγείρους λέγων καὶ ἰατροὺς οὐδὲν παύῃ, ὡς περὶ τούτων ἡμῖν ὄντα τὸν λόγον.
2 Mem. i. 2, 37: ὁ δὲ Κριτίας, ἀλλὰ τῶνδέ τοί σε ἀπέχεσθαι, ἔφη, δεήσει, ὦ Σώκρατες, τῶν σκυτέων καὶ τῶν τεκτόνων καὶ τῶν χαλκέων: καὶ γὰρ οἶμαι αὐτοὺς ἤδη κατατετρῖφθαι διαθρυλουμένους ὑπὸ σοῦ. Again in iv. 4,6: καὶ ὁ μὲν Ἱππίας ἀκούσας ταῦτα ὥσπερ ἐπισκώπτων αὐτόν, ἔτι γὰρ σύ, ἔφη, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἐκεῖνα τὰ αὐτὰ λέγεις ἃ ἐγὼ πάλαι ποτέ σου ἤκουσα. The like complaint and the like answer is met with in Plato's Gorgias, 490, E. Conf. 497, C.; σμικρὰ καὶ στενὰ ἐρωτήματα.
3 Accordingly in the Aristotelian problems, xxx. 1, 953, a, 26, he is reckoned amongst the melancholy, which is not at variance with the gentle firmness (τὸ στάσιμον) which Aristotle (Rhet. ii. 16) assigns.to him.
it not unfrequently happened that |81| deep in thought he remained, for a longer or shorter time, indifferent to the outer world, 1 and stood there as one absent in mind. According to Plato, he once remained in this state, standing on the same spot, from one day to the next. 2 So energetically did he struggle with himself to attain an insight into his every motive. In doing this, he discovered a residuum of feelings and impulses, which he watched with conscientious attention without being able to explain them from what he knew of his own inner life. Hence arose his belief in those divine revelations, which he thought to enjoy. And not only was he generally convinced that he stood and acted in the service of God, but he also held that supernatural suggestions were communicated to him, not only through the medium of public oracles, 3 but also in dreams, 4 and more particularly by a peculiar kind of higher inspiration, which goes by the name of the Socratic δαιμόνιον. 5
1 Plato, Symp. 174, D. Volquardsen, D. Daemon. d. Socr. 26, 63 and Alberti, Socr. 148 have entirely mistaken the meaning of the text in supposing that it attributes to Socrates any ecstatic states.
2 Symp. 220, C. The circumstances may indeed be regarded as a fact; still we do not know from what source Plato derived his knowledge of it, nor whether the authority which he followed had not exaggerated the time during which Socrates stood there. Favorinus in Gell. N. A. ii. 1, makes the one occasion into many, and says stare solitus, etc. Philop. De an. R. 12, places the occasion during the battle of Delium.
3 Conf. p. 76, 7, and 89.
4 Conf. p. 60, 2. In the passage here quoted Socrates refers to dreams in which the deity had commanded him to devote himself to his philosophical activity. In the Crito 44, A., a dream tells him that his death will follow on the third day.
5 Volquardsen, Das Daemonium d. Socr. und seine Interpreten. Kiel, 1862. Ribbing, Ueber Socrates’ Daimonion (Socratische Studien II., Upsala Universitets Årskrift, 1870.
|82| D. The δαιμόνιον
(1) False views of the δαιμόνιον {daimonion}. Even among the ancients many regarded these suggestions as derived from intercourse with a special and personally-existing genius, 1 of which Socrates boasted; in modern times this view was for a long time the dominant one. 2
1 The bill of accusation against Socrates seems to have understood the δαιμόνιον in this sense, since it charges him with introducing ἕτερα καινὰ δαιμόνια in the place of the Gods of the state; nor does Ribbing’s (Socrat. Stud. I. 1) remark make against this, that. Meletus (in Plato Apol. 26, B.) thus explained his language; Socrates not only denies the Gods of Athens but all and every God; the heavenly beings, whose introduction he attributes to him not being regarded as Gods, just as at a later time Christians were called ἄθεοι though worshipping God and Christ. Afterwards this view appears to have been dropped, thanks to the descriptions of Xenophon and Plato, and does not recur for some time, even in spurious works attributed to these writers. Even Cicero, Divin. i. 54, 122, does not translate δαιμόνιον by genius, but by ‘quoddam quoddam,’ and doubtless Antipater, whose work he was quoting, took it in the same sense. But in Christian times the belief in a genius became universal, because it fell in with the current belief in daemons. For instance, Plut. De Genio Socratis, c. 20; Max. Tyr. xiv. 3; Apuleius, De Deo Socratis, the Neoplatonists, and the Fathers, who, however, are not agreed whether his genius was a good one or a bad one. Plutarch, and after him Apuleius, mention the view that by the δαιμόνιον must be understood a power of vague apprehension, by means of which he could guess the future from prognostications or natural signs.
2 Compare Tiedemann, Geist der spekulat. Philosophie, ii. 16; Meiners, Ueber den Genius des Sokr. (Verm. Schriften, iii. 1); Gesch. d. Wissensch. II. 399, 538, Buhle, Gesch. d. Phil. 371, 388; Krug, Gesch. d. alten Phil. p. 158, Zasaulz, too (Socrates, Leben, 1858, p. 20) in his uncritical and unsatisfactory treatise respecting the δαιμόνιον, believes it to be a real revelation of the deity, or even a real genius, and even Volquardsen gathers as the conclusion of his careful, and in many respects meritorious, disquisition, that a real divine voice warned Socrates. The older literature in Olearius, 148, 185, Brucker, I. 543, which includes many supporters of the opinion that the genius of Socrates was only his own reason. Further particulars in Krug, l. c. and Lélut, Démon de Socrates, 163.
It was no doubt somewhat |83| humiliating in the eyes of rationalising admirers, that a man otherwise so sensible as Socrates should have allowed himselfto be ensnared by such a superstitious delusion. Hence attempts were not wanting to excuse him, either on the ground of the universal superstition of his age and nation, or else of his having a physical tendency to fanaticism. 1 Some even went so far as to assert that the so-called supernatural revelations were a shrewd invention, 2 or a result of his celebrated irony. 3
1 The first-named excuse is universal. Marsilius Ficinus (Theol. Platon. xiii. 2, p. 287) had assumed in Socrates, as well as in other philosophers, a peculiar bodily disposition for ecstasy, referring their susceptibility for supernatural revelations to their melancholy temperament. The personality of the daemon is not however called in question by him or by his supporters (Olearius, 147). Modern writers took refuge in the same hypothesis in order to explain in Socrates the possibility of a superstitious belief in a δαιμόνιον. For instance, Tiedemann, ‘The degree of exertion, which the analysis of abstract conception requires, has, in some bodies, the effect of mechanically predisposing to ecstasy and enthusiasm.’ ‘Socrates was so cultivated that deep thought produced in him a dulness of sense, and came near to the sweet dreams of theἐκστατικοί.’ ‘Those inclined to ecstasy mistake suddenly rising thoughts for inspirations.’ ‘The extraordinary condition of the brain during rapture affects the nerves of the abdomen and irritates them. To exercise the intellect immediately after a meal or to indulge in deep thought produces peculiar sensations in the hypochondriacal.’ In the same strain is Méiners, Verm. Schr. iii. 48, Gesch. d. Wissensch. ii. 538. Conf. Schwarze, Historische Untersuchung: war Socrates ein Hypochondrist? quoted by Krug, Gesch. d. alten Phil. 2 A. p. 163.
2 Plessing, Osiris and Socrates, 185, who supposes that Socrates had bribed the Delphic oracle in order to produce a political revolution, and vaunted his intercourse with a higher spirit. Chauvin in Olearius.
3 Fraguier, Sur l’ironie de Socrate in the Mémoires de Académie des Inscriptions, iv. 368, expresses the view that Socrates understood by the δαιμόνιον his own natural intelligence and power of combination, which rendered it possible for him to make right guesses respecting the future; somewhat ironically he had represented this as a matter of pure instinct, of θεῖον or θεία μοῖρα, and employed for this purpose voy and similar expressions. He remarks, however, that Socrates had no thought of a genius familiaris, δαιμόνιον here being used as an adjective and not as a substantive. Similarly Rollin in his Histoire ancienne, ix. 4, 2; and Barthélemy, Voyage du jeune Anacharsis, treats the expressions used respecting the δαιμόνιον in Plato’s Apology as plaisanterie, and considers it an open question whether Socrates really believed in his genius. On others sharing the view, see Lélut. l. c. p. 163.
Such a view, |84| however, is hard to reconcile with the tone in which, on the testimony of both Plato and Xenophon, Soerates speaks of the suggestions of the δαιμόνιον, or with the value which he attaches to these suggestions on the most important occasions. 1 To explain the phenomenon by the irritability of a sickly body falls not far short of deriving it from the fancy of a monomaniac, and reduces the great reformer of philosophy to the level of a madman. 2
(2) Regarded by Socrates as an inward oracle. All these explanations, however, can now be dispensed with, Schleiermacher having shown, 3 with the general approbation of the most competent judges, 4
1 Xen. Mem. iv. 8,4. Plato, Apol. 31, C.; 40, A.; 41, D.
2 Many have spoken of the superstition and fanaticism of Socrates in a more modest way, but comparatively recently Lélut (Du Démon de Socrate, 1836) has boldly asserted, ‘que Socrate était un fou’—a category, in which he places amongst others not only Cardan and Swedenborg, but Luther, Pascal, Rousseau and others. His chief argument is that Socrates not only believed in a real and personal genius, but in his hallucinations believed that he audibly heard its voice. Those who rightly understand Plato, and can distinguish what is genuine from what is false, will not need a refutation of these untruths.
3 Platon’s Werke, i. 2, 432.
4 Brandis, Gesch. d. Gri. Rom. Phil. ii. a. 60. Ritter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 40. Hermann, Gesch. u. Syst. d. Plato i, 236. Sooker, Uber Platon’s Schriften p. 99. Cousin in the notes to his translation of Plato’s Apology p. 335. Krische, Forschungen, 227. Ribbing, 16. Conf. Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 77. Ast too (Platon’s Leben and Schriften, p. 482), who takes δαιμόνιον for a substantive meaning the deity, does not see therein a genius but only a θεῖον.
that by |85| the δαιμόνιον in the sense of Socrates, no genius, no separate and distinct person, can be understood, but only indefinitely some heavenly voice or divine revelation. No passage in Plato or Xenophon speaks of Socrates holding intercourse with a genius. 1 We only hear of a divine or heavenly sign, 2 of a voice heard by Socrates, 3 of some supernatural guidance by which many warnings were vouchsafed to him. 4 All that these expressions imply is, that Socrates was conscious within of divine revelations, but how produced and whence coming they say absolutely nothing, 5
1 The passage Mem. i, 4. 14; ὅταν ὁ θεοὶ ὅταν πέμπωσιν, ὥσπερ σὺ φὴς πέμπειν αὐτούς, συμβούλους is used as a metonym for συμβούλάς.
2 Plato, Phaedr. 242, B.: τὸ δαιμόνιόν τε καὶ τὸ εἰωθὸς σημεῖόν μοι γίγνεσθαι ἐγένετο, καί τινα φωνὴν ἔδοξα αὐτόθεν ἀκοῦσαι. Rep. iv. 496, C.: τὸ δαιμόνιον σημεῖον. Euthy. 272, E.: ἐγένετο τὸ εἰωθὸς σημεῖον τὸ δαιμόνιον. Apol. 50; τὸ τοῦ θεοῦ σημεῖον—τὸ εἰαθὸς σημεῖον. Ibid. 41, D. c. τὸ σημεῖον.
3 Plato, Apol. 31, D.: ἐμοὶ δὲ τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν ἐκ παιδὸς ἀρξάμενον, φωνή τις γιγνομένη. Xen. Apol. 12: θεοῦ ϕωνή.
4 Plato, l.c: ὅτι μοι θεῖόν τι δαιμόνιον γίγνεται, Also 40, A.: ἡ γὰρ εἰωθυῖά μοι μαντικὴ ἡ τοῦ δαιμονίου. Theaet. 151, A.: τὸ γιγνόμενόν μοι δαιμόνιον. Euthyphro 3, B.: ὅτι δὴ σὺ τὸ δαιμόνιον φῂς σαυτῷ ἑκάστοτε γίγνεσθαι. Xen. Mem. i. 1, 4: τὸ δαιμόνιον ἔφη σημαίνειν, iv. 8, 5.: ἠναντιώθη τὸ δαιμόνιον. Symp. 8, 5. Even the spurious writings, Xenophon’s Apology and Plato’s Alcibiades do not go further; and the Theages. 128, D., with all its romance respecting the prophecies of the δαιμόνιον, expresses itself throughout indefinitely, nor need the ϕωνὴ τοῦ διαμονίυ p. 128, E. be taken for a person. The spuriousness of the Theages, notwithstanding Socher’s defence needs no further proof, especially after being exhaustively shown by Hermann, p. 427.
5 Doubtless Socrates regarded God or the deity us its ultimate source. But he expresses no opinion as to whether it came herefrom.
nay their very indefiniteness proves clearly enough, that neither Socrates nor his pupils had any |86| very clear notion on the subject. 1 These revelations, moreover, always refer to particular actions, 2
1 It is much the same thing whether τὸ δαιμόνιον be taken for a substantive or an adjective. The probable rights of the case are, as Krische, Forsch. 229 remarks, that Xenophon uses it as a substantive = τὸ θεῖον or ὁ θεὸς, whereas Plato uses it as an adjective, explaining it as δαιμόνιον σημεῖον, and says δαιμόνιόν μοι γίγνεσθαι. The grammar will admit of either. Conf. Arist. Rhet. ii. 23, 1398 a, 15. When, therefore, Ast cites Xenophon against Plato’s explanation of δαιμόνια as δαιμόνια πράγματα, he probably commits a μετάβασις εἰς ἄλλο γένος. The very difference between Xenophon and Plato proves how loosely Socrates spoke of the δαιμόνιον.
2 This applies to all the instances of its intervention mentioned by Plato and Xenophon. They are the following: (1) Xen. Mem. iv. 8, 5, where Socrates, when urged to prepare a defence, replies: ἀλλὰ νὴ τὸν Δία, φάναι αὐτόν, ὦ Ἑρμόγενες, ἤδη μου ἐπιχειροῦντος φροντίσαι τῆς πρὸς τοὺς δικαστὰς ἀπολογίας ἠναντιώθη τὸ δαιμόνιον. (2) Plato Apol. 31, D.: Why did not Socrates busy himself with political matters? The δαιμόνιον was the reason: τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν ὅ μοι ἐναντιοῦται τὰ πολιτικὰ πράττειν. (3) Ibid. (after his condemnation): a singular occurrence took place, γὰρ ὡς φίλοις οὖσιν ἐπιδεῖξαι ἐθέλω τὸ νυνί μοι συμβεβηκὸς τί ποτε νοεῖ. ἐμοὶ γάρ, ὦ ἄνδρες δικασταί—ὑμᾶς γὰρ δικαστὰς καλῶν ὀρθῶς ἂν καλοίην—θαυμάσιόν τι γέγονεν. ἡ γὰρ εἰωθυῖά μοι μαντικὴ ἡ τοῦ δαιμονίου ἐν μὲν τῷ πρόσθεν χρόνῳ παντὶ πάνυ πυκνὴ ἀεὶ ἦν καὶ πάνυ ἐπὶ σμικροῖς ἐναντιουμένη, εἴ τι μέλλοιμι μὴ ὀρθῶς πράξειν. νυνὶ δὲ…οὔτε ἐξιόντι ἕωθεν οἴκοθεν ἠναντιώθη τὸ τοῦ θεοῦ σημεῖον, οὔτε ἡνίκα ἀνέβαινον ἐνταυθοῖ ἐπὶ τὸ δικαστήριον, οὔτε ἐν τῷ λόγῳ οὐδαμοῦ μέλλοντί τι ἐρεῖν. καίτοι ἐν ἄλλοις λόγοις πολλαχοῦ δή με ἐπέσχε λέγοντα μεταξύ. (4) Plato, Theaet. 151, A.: if such as have withdrawn from my society, again return, ἐνίοις μὲν τὸ γιγνόμενόν μοι δαιμόνιον ἀποκωλύει συνεῖναι, ἐνίοις δὲ ἐᾷ. Add to these cases a few others in which Socrates himself more or less jokes about the δαιμόνιον, which deserve to be mentioned because it there appears in the same character as elsewhere. (5) Xen. Symp. 8, 5, where Antisthenes throws in Socrates’ teeth: τοτὲ μὲν τὸ δαιμόνιον προφασιζόμενος οὐ διαλέγῃ μοι, τοτὲ δ᾽ ἄλλου του ἐφιέμενος. (6) Plato Phaedr. 242, B., when Socrates wished to depart: τὸ δαιμόνιόν τε καὶ τὸ εἰωθὸς σημεῖόν μοι γίγνεσθαι ἐγένετο—ἀεὶ δέ με ἐπίσχει ὃ ἂν μέλλω πράττειν—καί τινα φωνὴν ἔδοξα αὐτόθεν ἀκοῦσαι, ἥ με οὐκ ἐᾷ ἀπιέναι πρὶν ἂν ἀφοσιώσωμαι, ὡς δή τι ἡμαρτηκότα εἰς τὸ θεῖον. (7) ibid. Euthyd. 272, E.; as Socrates was about to leave the Lyceum, ἐγένετο τὸ εἰωθὸς σημεῖον τὸ δαιμόνιον. πάλιν οὖν ἐκαθεζόμην, he therefore sat down again, and soon after Euthydemus and Dionysodorus really came in. In all these cases the δαιμόνιον appears to have been an inward voice deterring the philosopher from a particular action. Even the more general statement that the δαιμόνιον always made its warnings heard whenever Socrates thought of a political career, falls in with this conception of it. In a similar sense the passage in the Republic vi. 496, D. should be understood, when Socrates remarks that most of those who had the capacity for philosophy were diverted therefrom by other interests, unless peculiar circumstances kept them, such as sickness, which was a hindrance to political life. τὸ δ᾽ ἡμέτερον οὐκ ἄξιον λέγειν, τὸ δαιμόνιον σημεῖον: ἢ γάρ πού τινι ἄλλῳ ἢ οὐδενὶ τῶν ἔμπροσθεν γέγονεν. The heavenly sign keeps Socrates true to his philosophical calling, by opposing him whenever he contemplates taking up anything else, as for instance, politics. Consequently, not even this passage compels us to give another meaning to its utterances than they bear according to Plato’s express words, as conveying a judgment respecting the admissibility of a definite action, either contemplated or commenced by Socrates. Even at the commencement of the spurious ‘Alcibiades,’ this is all that is discussed, and in the Theages, 128, D., the prophecies of the δαιμόνιον only have reference to particular future actions (not only of Socrates, but of others), from which it dissuades. The two latter authorities are, however, worthless.
and |87| according to Plato assume the form of prohibitions. Sometimes the δαιμόνιον stops him from saying or doing something. 1 It only indirectly points out what should be done, by approving what it does not forbid. In a similar way it indirectly enables Socrates to advise his friends by not hindering him from approving their schemes, either by word or by silence. 2
1 Apol. 31, D.: ὅτι μοι θεῖόν τι καὶ δαιμόνιον γίγνεται...ἐμοὶ δὲ τοῦτ᾽ ἔστιν ἐκ παιδὸς ἀρξάμενον, φωνή τις γιγνομένη, ἣ ὅταν γένηται, ἀεὶ ἀποτρέπει με τοῦτο ὃ ἂν μέλλω πράττειν, προτρέπει δὲ οὔποτε. Phaedr. 242, C.
2 From the Platonic statements respecting the δαιμόνιον which have just been given, Xenophon’s statements differ, making it not only restraining but preventing, and not only having reference to the actions of Socrates but to those of other people. Mem. i. 1, 4 (Apol. 12): τὸ δαιμόνιον γὰρ ἔφη σημαίνειν. καὶ πολλοῖς τῶν συνόντων προηγόρευε τὰ μὲν ποιεῖν, τὰ δὲ μὴ ποιεῖν, ὡς τοῦ δαιμονίου προσημαίνοντος: καὶ τοῖς μὲν πειθομένοις αὐτῷ συνέφερε, τοῖς δὲ μὴ πειθομένοις μετέμελε. Ibid. iv. 3,12: σοὶ δ᾽ ἔφη (Euthydemus), ὦ Σώκρατες, ἐοίκασιν ἔτι φιλικώτερον ἢ τοῖς ἄλλοις χρῆσθαι, εἴ γε μηδὲ ἐπερωτώμενοι ὑπὸ σοῦ προσημαίνουσί σοι ἅ τε χρὴ ποιεῖν καὶ ἃ μή. Still both statements may be harmonised as in the text. Evidently Plato is more before all things at proving accurate. His language is far more definite than that of Xenophon, and is throughout consistent, witness the various cases mentioned in the previous note. Xenophon, as is his wont, confined himself to what caught the eye, to the fact that the δαιμόνιον enabled Socrates to judge of actions whose consequences were uncertain, all the more so because he aimed before all things at proving Socrates’ divination to be the same as other divinations, and so defending his teacher from the charge of religious innovation. As to the special peculiarity of the Socratic δαιμόνιον and its inner processes, we can look to Plato for better information.
The subjects respecting which the |88| heavenly voice makes itself heard are in point of value and character very different. Besides a concern of such deep personal interest to Socrates as his judicial condemnation, besides a question having such a far-reaching influence on his whole activity as that whether he should take part in public life or not, it expresses itself on occasions quite unimportant. 1 It is in fact a voice so familiar to Socrates and his friends, 2 that whilst regarded as a something enigmatical, mysterious, and unknown before, affording, too, a special proof of divine providence, it can nevertheless be discussed without awe and mystery in easy and even in flippant language. The facts of the phenomenon resolve themselves into this, that not unfrequently Socrates was kept back by a dim feeling based on no conscious consideration, in which he discerned a heavenly sign and a divine hint, from carrying out some thought or intention. Were he asked why this sign had been vouchsafed to him, from his point of view the reply would be, because that from which it deterred him would be harmful to himself or others. 3
1 πάνυ ἐπὶ σμικροῖς. See p. 86, 2.
2 πάνυ πυκνή. Ibid.
3 It will be subsequently shown that Socrates was, on the one hand thoroughly convinced of the care of God for man down to the smallest matters, and on the other hand was accustomed to estimate the value of every action by its consequences. It followed herefrom that to his mind the only ground on which God could forbid an action was because of its ill-consequences.
In order, therefore, to justify |89| the utterances of the δαιμόνιον, and to give its raison d’étre, he attempted to prove that the actions which it approved or occasioned were the most beneficial and advantageous. 1 The δαιμόνιον appeared therefore to him as an internal revelation from heaven respecting the result of his actions, in a word as an internal oracle. As such it is expressly included, both by Xenophon 2 and Plato, 3 under the general conception of divination, and placed on a par with divination by sacrifice and the flight of birds. Of it, is therefore true, what Xenophon’s Socrates remarks respecting all divination that it may only be resorted to for cases which man cannot discover himself by reflection. 4
1 See Xen. Mem. iv. 8, 5, where Socrates observes that the δαιμόνιον forbad him to prepare a defence, and then proceeds to discuss the reasons why the deity found an innocent death better for him than a longer life. In Plato, Apol. 40, 3, he concludes, from the silence of the δαιμόνιον during his defence, that the condemnation to which it led would be for him a benefit.
2 Xen. Mem.i. 1, 3; iv. 3, 12; i. 4, 14. Conf. Apol. 12.
3 Apol. 40, A.; Phaed. 242, C.; Euthyphro, 3, B.
4 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 6: τὰ μὲν γὰρ ἀναγκαῖα συνεβούλευε καὶ πράττειν ὡς ἐνόμιζεν ἄριστ᾽ ἂν πραχθῆναι: περὶ δὲ τῶν ἀδήλων ὅπως ἀποβήσοιτο μαντευσομένους ἔπεμπεν, εἰ ποιητέα. For this reason, therefore, divination was required: τεκτονικὸν μὲν γὰρ ἢ χαλκευτικὸν ἢ γεωργικὸν ἢ ἀνθρώπων ἀρχικὸν ἢ τῶν τοιούτων ἔργων ἐξεταστικὸν ἢ λογιστικὸν ἢ οἰκονομικὸν ἢ στρατηγικὸν γενέσθαι, πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα μαθήματα καὶ ἀνθρώπου γνώμῃ αἱρετὰ ἐνόμιζεν εἶναι. τὰ δὲ μέγιστα τῶν ἐν τούτοις ἔφη τοὺς θεοὺς ἑαυτοῖς καταλείπεσθαι, ὧν οὐδὲν δῆλον εἶναι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις. The greatest things, however, as is immediately explained, are the consequences of actions, the question whether they are useful or detrimental to the doer. Accordingly Socrates observes that it is madness to think to be able to dispense with divination, and to do everything by means of one’s own intelligence (and as he afterwards adds, ἀθέμιστα ποιεῖν): δαιμονᾶν δὲ καὶ τοὺς μαντευομένους ἃ τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ἔδωκαν οἱ θεοὶ μαθοῦσι διακρίνειν, examples of which are then given. Conf. iv. 3, 12, where μαντικὴ, and also the Socratic μαντικὴ, is said to refer to consequences (τὰ συμϕέροντα, τὰ ἀποβησόμενα), and the appropriate means (ἦ ἂν ἄριστα γίγνοιντο).
|90| (3) Limited in its application. Herewith the whole field of philosophical inquiry is excluded from the province of the δαιμόνιον. This field Socrates, more than any one of his predecessors, claimed for intelligent knowledge and a thorough understanding. As a matter of fact, no instance occurs of a scientific principle or a general moral law being referred to the δαιμόνιον. Nor must the sage’s conviction of his own higher mission be confounded with his belief in the heavenly sign, nor the deity by whom he considered himself commissioned to sift men be identified with the δαιμόνιον. 1 The fact that Socrates thought to hear the heavenly voice from the time when he was a boy, ought to be sufficient evidence to warn against such an error; 2 for at that time he cannot possibly have had any thought of a philosophic calling. That voice, moreover, according to Plato, always deterring, never prompting, 3 cannot have been the source of the positive command of the deity to which Socrates
1 This was often done in former times; for instance by Meiners, Verm. Schrift. iii, 24, and still more so by Lélut, l. c. p. 113, who sees in the @eds from whom Socrates derived his vocation a proof of his belief in a genius. The same mistake is committed by Volquardsen, l. c. p. 9, 12, against whose view see Alberti, Socr. 56.
2 ἐκ παιδός. See above p. 87, 1.
3 See p. 87, 2.
|91| referred his activity as a teacher. 1 Nor is it ever deduced therefrom, eithér by Xenophon or by Plato. Socrates indeed says that the deity had given him the task of sifting men, that the deity had forced him to this line of life; 2 but he never says that he had received this commission from the δαιμόνιον. 3 To this he is only indebted for peculiar assistance in hig philosophic calling, which consists more particularly in its dissuading him from proving faithless to his calling by meddling with politics. 4
Lastly, the δαιμόνιον has been often regarded as the voice of conscience, 5 but this view is at once too wide and too narrow. Understanding by conscience the moral consciousness in general, and more particularly the moral sense as far as this finds expression in the moral estimate of our every action, its monitions are not confined to future things as are the monitions of the Socratic δαιμόνιον.
1 See p. 60, 2; 82, 1.
2 Plato, Apol. 23, B.; 28, D.; 33, C.; Theaet. 150, C.
3 It is not true, as Volquardsen, l. c. B., says, that in Plato, Apol. 31, D., Socrates mentions the δαιμόνιον as the first and exclusive αἴτιον of his mode of life. He there only attributes to the δαιμόνιον his abstinence from politics, not his attention to philosophy.
4 See p. 86, 2.
5 Stapfer, Biogr. Univers. T. xlii. Socrate, p. 531; Brandis, Gesch. d. Griech. Rém. Phil. ii, a, 60 (Gesch. d. Entwick. d. Griech. Phil. i. 243 is a modification of the above). Breitenbach, Zeitschrift fiir das Gymnasialwesen, 1863, p. 499; Rotscher, Arist. 256. Ribbing, too, l. c. 27, defends this view, observing, “however, that the δαιμόνιον (1) only manifests itself as conscientia antecedens and concomitans, not as conscientia subsequens; and (2) that its meaning is not exhausted with the conception of conscience, but that it figures as ‘practical moral tact in respect of personal relations and particular actions.’
Nay, more, it more frequently makes itself felt in the first place by the approval or disapproval following upon |92| actions. Again, conscience exclusively refers to the moral value or worthlessness of an action, whereas the heavenly sign in Socrates always bears reference to the consequences of actions. Therein Plato, no less than Xenophon, sees a peculiar kind of prophecy. Allowing that Socrates was occasionally mistaken as to the character of the feelings and impulses which appeared to him revelations, that now and then he was of opinion that the deity had forbidden him something for the sake of its prejudicial consequences when the really forbidding power was his moral sense, yet the same cannot be said of all the utterances of the δαιμόνιον. Doubtless in deterring him from taking up politics, the real motive lay in the feeling that a political career was incompatible with his conviction of an important higher calling, to which he had devoted his life. It may, therefore, be said that in this case a scruple of conscience had assumed the form of a heavenly voice. But in forbidding to prepare a speech for judicial defence, this explanation will no longer apply. Here the only explanation which can be given of the heavenly voice, is that such a taking in hand of his own personal interests did not commend itself to the sage’s line of thought, and that it appeared unworthy of him to defend himself otherwise than by a plain statement of the truth requiring no preparation. 1
1 Volquardsen l. c. confounds Apol. 17, A.,as meaning that it two things in explaining the was not a question of a simple prohibition, mentioned by Xen. defence, but of a defence in Mem. iv. 8, 4, to prepare a the usual legal style with all defence in the sense of Plato, the tricks and manoeuvres of an orator. In Xenophon’s account there is not a word of this. Had this been his meaning, it must somehow have been indicated in the sequel; it would have been said that the Saydvioy kept him from defending himself, because a defence in keeping with his principles would have heen useless; it is by no means a matter of course that he would not have been able to get up a speech very much worthy of himself. But as Cron in Eos. i. 175 observes: what idea must we form to ourselves of Socrates, if he required the assistance of the δαιμόνιον to keep him back from that which he clearly saw to be incompatible with his principles?
|93| All this, however, has little to do with judgments respecting what is morally admissible or not, and has much to do with the questions as to what is suited or unsuited to the individual character of the philosopher. Still less can the decision respecting the receiving back pupils 1 who have once deserted him, be referred to conscience. The question here really was as to the capacity of the respective persons to profit by his instructions. It involved, therefore, a criticism of character. The jokes, too, which Socrates and his friends permitted themselves as to the δαιμόνιον 2 were wholly out of place, if the δαιμόνιον were conscience. As far as they are founded on fact, they afford a proof that the δαιμόνιον must be distinguished from moral sense or conscience; and it is quite in harmony herewith to hear Socrates say, 3 that the heavenly voice often made itself heard on quite unimportant occasions. Remembering further that Socrates was more than anyone else, perhaps, bent on referring actions to clear conceptions, and accordingly excluded from the field of prophecy, and therefore from the province of the δαιμόνιον,
1 See above p. 86, 2, No. 4.
2 Ibid. No. 5, 7.
3 Ibid. No. 3.
|94| everything that might be known by personal reflection, 1 we shall see how little right we have to understand the δαιμόνιον as having principally or wholly to do with the moral value of an action.
(4) Correct view of the δαιμόνιον. The heavenly voice appears rather to be the general form, which a vivid, but in its origin unexplored sense of the propriety of a particular action assumed for the personal consciousness of Socrates. 2 The actions to which this sense referred could, as we have seen, be most varied in content and importance. Quite as varied must the inward processes and motives have been out of which it grew. It might be some conscientious scruple pressing on the sense of the sage without his being fully conscious thereof. It might be some apprehension of the consequences of a step, such as sometimes rises as a first impression with all decidedness in the experienced observer of men and of circumstances, before it is even possible for him to account to himself for the reasons of his misgiving. It might be that an action in itself neither immoral nor inappropriate, jarred on Socrates’ feelings, as not being in harmony with his peculiar mode of being and conduct.
1 See p. 89, 4.
2 The last remark follows not only from what has been stated, p. 89, 4, but it is also inconceivable that Socrates could have referred to a higher inspiration impulses the sources of which he had discovered. Nor does it conflict herewith, that after the heavenly voice has made itself heard, he afterwards considers what can have led the Gods to thus reveal their will.
It might be that on unimportant occasions all those unaccountable influences and impulses came into play, which contribute so much to our mental attitude and |95| decisions; all the more so in proportion as the object itself affords less definite grounds for decision. In this respect the δαιμόνιον has been rightly called ‘the inner voice of individual tact,’ 1 understanding by tact a general sense of propriety in word and action as exemplified in the most varied relations of life in small things as well as inv great. 2 This sense Socrates early noticed in himself as unusually strong, 3 and subsequently by his peculiarly keen and unwearied observation of himself and other men he developed it to such a pitch of accuracy, that it was seldom or as he believed never at fault. Its psychological origin was, however, concealed from his own consciousness. It assumed for him from the beginning the appearance of a foreign influence, a higher revelation, an oracle. 4
Herein is seen the strength of the hold which the beliefs of his countrymen had over Socrates; 5
1 Hermann, Platonismus i. 236: similarly Krische, Forschung. i. 231.
2 The objections hereto raised by Volquardsen, pp. 56, 63, and Alberti, Socr. 68, are partly answered by the argument which has preceded. Besides, they have more reference to words than to things. So far as this is the case, there is no use in disputing. By tact we understand not only social but moral tact, not only acquired but natural tact, and this word seems very appropriate to express the sense which Socrates described as the δαιμόνιον.
3 Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 77: The genius of Socrates is not Socrates himself.…but an oracle, which, however, is not external, but subjective, his oracle. It bore the form of knowledge, which was, however, connected with a certain unconsciousness.
4 Krische l. c.: What is not in our power, what our nature cannot bear, and what is not naturally found in our impulses or our reflections, is involuntary, or according to the notion of the ancients, heavenly: to this category belong enthusiasm and prophecy, the violent throb of desire, the mighty force of feelings.
5 Philosophie, § 279, p. 369. See above, p. 60, 3
|96| herewith, too, are exposed to view the limits of his self-knowledge. Feelings whose origin he has not discovered are seen to exercise over him an irresistible power. On the other hand, the δαιμόνιον when it does speak, takes the place of the usual signs and portents. Hegel 1 not without reason sees herein a proof that the determining motives of action, which in the case of the Greek oracles were things purely external, have come to be sought in man himself. To misgivings incapable of being resolved into clear conceptions, a high importance was here attached; in them a very revelation of deity was seen, proving most clearly that the human mind, in a way hitherto foreign to Greeks, had come to occupy itself with itself, and carefully to observe what transpired withip. The power which these feelings early exercised over Socrates, the devotion with which he even then listened for the voice within, affords an insight into the depths of his emotional nature. In the boy we see the embryo of the man, for whom self-knowledge was the most pressing business of life, for whom untiring observation of his moral and mental conditions, analysis of notions and actions, reasoning as to their character and testing of their value were primary necessities. 2
1 Hegel l. c. and Recht’s Philosophie § 276, p. 369.
2 Conf. Plato, Apol. 38) A. See above p. 60.
The same tone of mind also shows itself in other peculiarities of Socrates, to his contemporaries appearing so strange. At times he was seen lost in thought, so as to be unconscious of what transpired around |97| him; at times going on his way regardless of the habits of his fellows; his whole appearance displaying a far-reaching indifference to external things, a one-sided preference of the useful to the beautiful. What do all these traits show if not the importance which he attached to the study of self, to the solitary work of thought, to a free determination of self independent of foreign judgments? Remarkable as it may seem to find the dryness of the man of intellect and the enthusiasm of the man of feeling united in one and the same person, both features may be referred to a common source. What distinguishes Socrates in his general conduct from his fellow-citizens was this power of inward concentration. This struck his contemporaries as being so foreign an element, and thereby an irreparable breach was made in the artistic unity of Greek life.
What the general importance of this peculiarity may be, and what traces it has left in history, are questions to answer which we must enquire into the Socratic philosophy.
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Chapter V. Sources and Characteristics of the Philosophy of Socrates
A. Xenophon and Plato Considered as Authorities
To give an accurate account of the philosophy of Socrates is a work of some difficulty, owing to the well-known divergence of the earliest accounts, Socrates committed nothing to writing himself; 1 of the works of his pupils, in which he is introduced as speaking, only those of Xenophon and Plato are preserved. 2 These are, however, so little alike, that we gather from the one, quite a different view of the teaching of Socrates to what the other gives us.
1 The unimportant poetical attempts of his last days (Plato, Phaedo, 60, C.) can hardly be counted as writings, even if they were extant. They appear, however, to have been very soon lost. The Psean at least, which Themist. (Or. ii. 27, c.) considers genuine, was rejected by the ancient critics, according to Diog. ii. 42. The spuriousness of the Socratic letters is beyond question, and that Socrates committed nothing to writing is clear from the silence of Xenophon, Plato, and all antiquity, not to mention the positive testimony of Cic. de Orat. iii. 16, 60; Diog. i. 16; Plut. De Alex. Virt. i. 4. A conclusive discussion on this point in refutation of the views of Leo Allatius is given by Olearius in Stanl. Hist. Phil. 198.
2 For instance, those of Aeschines, Antisthenes, Phaedo.
Among early historians of philosophy it was the fashion to construct a picture of the Athenian sage, without principles and criticism, indiscriminately from the writings of Xenophon and Plato, no less than from |99| later, and for the most part indifferent, authorities. Since the time of Brucker, however, Xenophon came to be regarded as the only authority to be perfectly trusted for the philosophy of Socrates; to all others, Plato included, at most only a supplementary value was allowed. Quite recently, however, Schleiermacher has lodged a protest against this preference of Xenophon. 1 Xenophon, he argues, not being a philosopher himself, was scarcely capable of understanding a philosopher like Socrates. The object, moreover, of the Memorabilia was a limited one, to defend his teacher from definite charges. We are herefore justified in assuming à priori that there was more in Socrates than Xenophon describes. Indeed, there must have been more, or he could not have played the part he did in the history of philosophy, nor have exerted so marvelldus a power of attraction on the most intellectual and cultivated men of his time. The character, too, which Plato gives him would otherwise have too flatly contradicted the picture of him present to the mind of his reader. Besides, Xenophon’s dialogues create the impression that philosophic matter has, with detriment to its meaning, been put into the unphilosophic language of everyday life; and that there are gaps left, to supply which we are obliged to go to Plato. Not that we can go so far as Meiners, 2
1 On the philosophical merits of Socrates, Schleiermacher, Werke, iii. 2, 293, first printed in Abhandlungen der Berliner Academie, Philos. Kl. 1818, p. 50. Conf. Gesch. d. Phil. p. 81.
2 Geschichte der Wissenschaften in Griechenland und Rom, ii, 420.
|100| and say that only those parts of the dialogues of Plato can be considered historical, which are either to be found in Xenophon, or immediately follow from what Xenophon says, or which are opposed to Plato’s own views. This hypothesis would only give us the Socrates of Xenophon slightly modified, whilst the deeper spring of Socratic thought would still be wanting. The only safe course to pursue is that adopted by Schleiermacher—to ask, What may Socrates have been, in addition to what Xenophon reports, without gainsaying the character and maxims which Xenophon distinctly assigns to him? and what must he have been to call for and to justify such a description as is given of him in the dialogues of Plato? Schleiermacher’s estimate of Xenophon 1 has been since adopted by several other writers; and even previously to Schleiermacher, Dissen 2 had declared that he could only see in the pages of Xenophon a description of the outward appearance of Socrates.
1 Brandis, in Rhein. Mus. von Niebuhr und Brandis, i. b. 122. Conf. Gesch. d. Gr.-Röm. Philos. ii. a. 20; Ritter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 44; Ribbing, Ueber d. Verhaltniss zwischen den Xenophont. und den Platon. Berichten iiber Socrates. Upsala Universitets Årskrift, 1870, specially p. 1, 125. Alberti, too (Socrates, 5), takes in the main the side of Schleiermacher, whilst allowing that Plato’s account can only be used for history with extreme caution—a caution which he has himself failed to observe in using the Phaedo (see above, p. 59). In respect of the personality of Socrates rather than his teaching, Van Heusde (Characterismi principum philosophorum veterum, p. 54) gives a preference to Plato’s picture as being truer to life than Xenophon’s Apology.
2 De philosophia morali in Xenophontis de Socrate commentariis tradita, p. 28 (in Dissen’s Kleineren Schriften, p. 87).
|101| The like approval has been bestowed on Schleiermacher’s canon for finding out the real Socrates; only to supplement it has the remark been made, 1 that the language used by Aristotle respecting the teaching of Socrates may be also employed to determine its outside aspect. On the other hand, Xenophon’s authority has been warmly supported by several critics. 2
1 By Brandis, l. c.
2 Hegel. Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 69; Rötscher, Aristophanes und sein Zeitalter, p. 393; Hermann, Gesch. und Syst. des Platonismus, i. 249; Labriola, La dottrina di Socrate (Napoli, 1871), 22. Conf. ries, Gesch. d. Phil. i, 269. For further literature on this point consult Hurndall, De philosophia morali Socratis (Heidelberg, 1853), p. 7, and Ribbing, l. c.
In deciding between these two views, a difficulty, however, presents itself. The authority of the one or the other of our accounts can only be ascertained by a reference to the true historical picture of Socrates, and the true historical picture can only be known from these conflicting accounts. This difficulty would be insurmountable, if the two narratives had the same claim to be considered historical in points which they state varyingly. Indeed, Aristotle’s scanty notices respecting the Socratic philosophy would have been insufficient to settle the question, even on the assumption that he had other sources of information at command beside the writings of Xenophon and Plato—an assumption for which there is not the least evidence. But if one thing is clearer than another, it is this, that Plato only claims to be true to facts in those descriptions in which he agrees with Xenophon, as for instance, in the Apology and the Symposium.
On other points no one could well assert that he wished all to be taken as historical |102| which he puts into the mouth of Socrates. Of Xenophon, on the contrary, it may be granted that, whether from his deficiency in philosophic sense, or from his exclusively practical tastes, not unfrequently the scientific meaning and the inner connection of the principles of Socrates escape his notice. Nor must we ever forget that the Memorabilia are primarily intended to be a defence of his teacher against the charges brought against him, which charges were the cause of his condemnation, and passed current years after his death. For this purpose a description was requisite, not so much of his philosophy as of his morals and religion, setting forth his piety, his integrity, his obedience to the laws, his services to his friends and fellow-citizens rather than his intellectual convictions; and Xenophon candidly confesses that this is the main object of his treatise. 1 Even the question, whether, with the means at his command, a life-like reproduction of the dialogues of Socrates can be expected from Xenophon, cannot be answered affirmatively without some limitation. His treatise was not written until six years after the death of Socrates, and we have not the least indication that it was based on notes made either by himself or others in the time immediately following the dialogues. 2
1 Mem. i. 1, 1 and 20; 2, 1; 3, 1; iv. 4, 26; 5, 1; 8, 11.
2 It cannot be inferred from Plato, Symp. 172, C.; 173, B.; Theaet. 143, A., that Socrates’ friends (as Volguardsen, Daemon d. Sokr. 6, says) took down his discourses at home and filled up their sketches by further enquiries. Nay, the very discourses which are vouched for by this supposed care, cannot possibly be historical. Such statements cannot therefore mean more than similar ones in Parm. 126, B. Neither does Mem. i. 4, 1 refer to writings of pupils of Socrates, but to the views of opponents. Mem. iv. 3, 2 appears to refer not even to writings, but to oral communications.
What was committed to writing years |103| afterwards from his own or his friends’ memory has not the claim to accuracy of a verbal report, but rather owes to himself its more definite form and setting. No doubt it was his intention to give a true account of Socrates and his teaching. He says that he writes from his own recollection. He expressly observes in a few cases that he was not present during the dialogue, but had heard similar things from others, mentioning his authority. 1 If, then, many a Socratic discourse is unknown to him or has escaped his memory, if one or other line of thought has not been thoroughly understood, or its philosophical importance misunderstood by him, it may nevertheless be assumed that a pupil of Socrates, accustomed to consort with him for years, and able to communicate all that Xenophon actually communicates, neither repeats on the whole what is false, nor leaves any essential side of the Socratic teaching untouched.
1 Mem. i. 3: ὡς δὲ δὴ καὶ ὠφελεῖν ἐδόκει μοι τοὺς ξυνόντας...τούτων δὴ γράψω ὁπόσα ἂν διαμνημονεύσω. iv. 3, 2; others have reported similar conversations respecting the Gods, at which they were present: ἐγὼ δέ, ὅτε πρὸς Εὐθύδημον τοιάδε διελέγετο, παρεγενόμην. iv. 8, 4: λέξω δὲ καὶ ἃ Ἑρμογένους τοῦ Ἱππονίκου ἤκουσα περὶ αὐτοῦ.
From Plato, indeed, so far as his description is historical or permits a reference to the Socrates of history, many a trait supplementary of Xenophon’s narrative may be expected, and many an explanation of the real meaning of sayings, which his fellow-pupil reports as understood only from the standpoint of |104| practical utility. Hence objection can hardly be taken to the above-quoted canon of Schleiermacher. 1 Nevertheless, it is highly improbable that in essential points there should be an irreconcilable difference between Xenophon’s description and that which we may take for historically established as Plato’s. 2 The real state of the case, however, can only be ascertained by examining the statements of various authorities in detail to test their worth and their agreement, and this enquiry naturally coincides with the exposition of the Socratic teaching, from which it could only be distinguished in point of form. It will not, therefore, be separated from it here. Socrates will be described from the three accounts of Xenophon, Plato, and Aristotle. If the attempt to form a harmonious picture from these sources succeeds, Xenophon will be vindicated. Should it not succeed, it will then be necessary to ask, which of the traditional accounts is the true one. 3
1 P. 100.
2 As Ribbing, l. c. asserts. Hard is it to reconcile herewith that Ribbing declines to question ‘the essentially historical accuracy’ of Xenophon’s description.
3 The course here followed is also in the main that taken by Strümpell, Gesch. d. Prakt. Philos. d. Gr. i. 116. He considers it impossible to distinguish in point of speculation what belongs to Socrates and what belongs to Plato. As regards morals, he hopes to gain a true general view of Socrates by taking the maxims which are attributed to him unanimously by Xenophon, Plato, and Aristotle, following them out to their consequences, and testing the traditions by these.
B. General Point of View of Socrates
To begin with the question as to the philosophical platform and fundamental principle of Socrates. Here the sketches of our main authorities seem to give ground for the most opposite views. According |105| to Plato, Socrates appears as an expert thinker, at home in all branches of knowledge; whereas, in Xenophon he is represented far less as a philosopher than as a man innocent and excellent, full of piety and common sense. Hence Xenophon’s account is specially appealed to in support of the conception of Socrates as a popular moral man, holding aloof from all speculative questions, and in fact as far less of a philosopher than a teacher of morality and instructor of youth. 1 It certainly cannot be denied that Socrates was full of the most lively enthusiasm for morality, and made it the business of his life to exercise a moral influence upon others. 2 Had he only discharged this function after the unscientific manner of a popular teacher, by imparting and inculcating the received notions of duty and virtue, the influence would be inexplicable which he exerted, not only over weaklings and hairbrains, but over the most talented and cultivated of his contemporaries.
1 How common this view was in past times, needs not to be proved by authorities which abound from Cicero down to Wiggers and Reinhold. That it is not yet altogether exploded may be gathered not only from writers like Van Heusde, Characterismi, p. 53, but even Marbach, a disciple of the Hegelian philosophy, asserts in his Gesch. d. Philos. i. 174, 178, 181, that Socrates ‘regarded the speculative philosophy which aimed at general knowledge, as useless, vain, and foolish,’ and that he ‘took the field not only against the Sophists as pretenders to knowledge, but against all philosophy’; in short, that ‘he was no philosopher.’
2 Conf. Apol. 23, D.; 30, E.; 38, A., and above, p. 49.
Socrates “made it the business of his life to exercise a moral influence upon others...by imparting and inculcating the received notions of duty and virtue.”
It would be a mystery what induced Plato to connect the deepest philosophical enquiries with his person, or what led all later philosophers, down to Aristotle, nay even down to the Stoics and Neoplatonists, to |106| regard him as the founder of a new epoch, and to trace their own peculiar systems to the movement set on foot by him.
Even in himself and his doings more than one feature is at variance with this conception. Whereas it would follow herefrom that knowledge is only of value in as far as it is instrumental for action, so far was Socrates from sharing this belief that he considered actions only then to have a value when they proceed from correct knowledge; that he referred moral action or virtue to knowledge, making its perfection depend on perfection of knowledge. Whereas, according to the ordinary assumption, he would in his intercourse with others have before ali things aimed at moral training, so far was it otherwise that it appears from his own words that love of knowledge was the original motive for his activity. 1 Accordingly we observe him in his dialogues pursuing enquiries, which not only have no moral purpose, 2
1 Plato, Apol. 21, where Socrates deduces his whole activity from the fact that he pursued a real knowledge.
2 Examples are to be found in the conversations (Mem. iii. 10), in which Socrates conducts the painter Parrhasius, the sculptor Clito, and Pistias, the forger of armour, to the conceptions of their respective arts. It is true Xenophon introduces these conversations with the remark that Socrates knew how to make himself useful to artisans. But the desire to make himself useful can only have been a very subordinate one; he was no doubt really actuated by the motive mentioned in the Apology, a praiseworthy curiosity to learn from intercourse with all classes, whether they were clearly conscious of what their arts were for. Xenophon himself attests this, Mem. iv. 6, 1: σκοπῶν σὺν τοῖς συνοῦσι, τί ἕκαστον εἴη τῶν ὄντων, οὐδέποτ᾽ ἔληγεν. This pursuit of the conceptions of things, aiming not at the application of knowledge, but at knowledge itself, is quite enough to prove that Socrates was not only a preacher of virtue, but a philosopher. Even Xenophon found some difficulty in bringing it into harmony with his practical view of things, as his words show: from which it may be seen that Socrates made his friends more critical. But criticism is the organ of knowledge.
but which, |107| in their practical application, could only serve immoral purposes. 1 These traits are not met with exclusively in one or other of our authorities, but they are equally diffused through the accounts given by the three main sources. Socrates can therefore not possibly have been the unscientific moral teacher for which he was formerly taken. Knowledge must have had for him a very different value and importance from what it would have had on such a supposition. It may not even be assumed that the knowledge which he sought was ultimately only pursued for the sake of action, and only valued as a means to morality. 2 He who pursues knowledge in this sense, only as a means to an end which lies beyond him, not from an independent impulse and love of knowing, will never study so carefully and so independently the problem and method of philosophic research as Socrates did; will never be a reformer of philosophy as he was.
1 Mem. iii. 11 contains a paragraph adapted more than any other to refute the idea that Socrates was only a popular teacher. Socrates hears one of his companions commending the beauty of Theodota, and at once goes with his company to see her. He finds her acting as a painter’s model, and he thereupon enters into a conversation with her, in which he endeavours to lead her to a conception of her trade, and shows her how she will best be able to win lovers. Now, although such a step would not give that offence to a Greek which it would to us, still there is not the least trace of a moral purpose in his conduct. Brandis’ (Gesch. d. Entw. i. 236) remarks are little to the point. A purely critical interest leads Socrates to refer to its general conception every action across which he comes, regardless of its moral value.
2 Ribbing, Socrat. Stud. i. 46.
|108| Nay more, he would have been incapable of exerting the deep reforming influence over Ethics which, according to the testimony of history, he did exert, had he thus confined himself to practical interests. His importance for Ethics is derived not so much from the fact that he insisted on a re-establishment of moral life—this Aristophanes and without doubt many others did, but from his recognising that a scientific basis for moral convictions must be an indispensable condition for any real reform of morals. Herewith it is presupposed that practical problems are determined and vindicated by knowledge; in other words, that knowledge not merely subserves action, but leads and governs it—a view never as yet held by any one who did not attribute to knowledge an independent value of its own. If, therefore, Socrates, as we shall note, confined himself in principle to enquiries having for man a practical value, it can only be inferred that he was not himself fully conscious of the range of his thought. In practice he went beyond these limits, treating ethical questions in such a manner as no one gould do unless fired with an independent love of knowledge.
The area is thus determined within which the fundamental conception of the Socratic philosophy must be looked for. True knowledge is the treasure to discover which Socrates goes forth in the service of the Delphic God; to gain the knowledge of the essence of things, he, with his friends, unweariedly labours; to true knowledge he ultimately refers all moral demands. The force with which he asserted |109| this demand constitutes him the creator in Greece of an independent system of morality. For him it is not enough that men should do what is right; they must also know why they do it.
“The Idea of knowledge forms the central point of the Socratic philosophy.”
C. Theory of Knowledge of Conceptions Considered
He demands that they should not follow a dark impulse, an undefined enthusiasm or the aptitude of habit, but should act from clear consciousness; and because it was deficient in this characteristic, he refuses to allow true wisdom to the art of his time, however high it otherwise stood. 1 In a word, the idea of knowledge forms the central point of the Socratic philosophy. 2
1 In Plato, Apology 22, B., Socrates observes: In his sifting of men he had turned to the poets, but had soon found that they were usually not able to account for their own works. Ἔγνων οὖν…ὅτι οὐ σοφίᾳ ποιοῖεν ἃ ποιοῖεν, ἀλλὰ φύσει τινὶ καὶ ἐνθουσιάζοντες ὥσπερ οἱ θεομάντεις καὶ οἱ χρησμῳδοί: καὶ γὰρ οὗτοι λέγουσι μὲν πολλὰ καὶ καλά, ἴσασιν δὲ οὐδὲν ὧν λέγουσιν. Besides, no one knows the limits of his knowledge, but thinks to understand all things. He had also observed the same in the χειροτέχναι, the representatives of sculpture and art.
2 Schleiermacher, Werke, iii. 2, 300: ‘The awakening of the idea of knowledge; and its first utterances, must have been the substance of the philosophy of Socrates.’ Ritter agrees with this, Gesch. d. Philosophie, ii. 50. Brandis only differs in unessential points, Rhein. Mus. von Neibuhr und Brandis, i. 6, 130; Gr.-Röm. Phil. ii. a, 33. To him the origin of the doctrine of Socrates appears to be a desire to vindicate against the Sophists the absolute worth of moral determinations; and then he adds: to secure this purpose the first aim of Socrates was to gain a deeper insight into his own consciousness, in order to be able to distinguish false and true knowledge with certainty. Similarly Braniss, Gesch. d. Phils. Kant. i. 155. The important feature in Socrates was this, that to him morality appeared to be a certain kind of knowledge, proceeding from the thought of the good inborn in the soul.
All philosophy aiming at knowledge, this point must be further circumscribed to give it precision, which was done in this wise, that, whereas the pursuit of true knowledge had been, |110| with earlier philosophers an immediate and instinctive activity, with Socrates it became conscious and methodical. By him the idea of knowledge as knowledge was first brought out, and having been brought out, took precedence of every other idea. 1
All true knowledge must proceed from correct conceptions, and can be known only if it can be referred to its general conception, and judged thereby.
This statement, again, requires further explanation. If the love of knowledge was shared also by previous philosophers, why, it may be asked, did it not before develop into a conscious and critical pursuit? The reason which may be assigned is this: The knowledge which earlier philosophers pursued, was, in itself, different from the knowledge which Socrates required. They were not compelled by their idea of knowledge as Socrates was to direct their attention to the intellectual processes and conditions, by which it was truly to be acquired. Such a necessity was, however, imposed on Socrates by the principle which the most trustworthy accounts unanimously report as the soul of all his teaching—that all true knowledge must proceed from correct conceptions, and that nothing can be known, unless it can be referred to its general conception, and judged thereby. 2
1 Schleiermacher, 1. c. 299; Brandis.
2 Xenoph. Mem. iv. 6, 1: Σωκράτης γὰρ τοὺς μὲν εἰδότας τί ἕκαστον εἴη τῶν ὄντων ἐνόμιζε καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ἂν ἐξηγεῖσθαι δύνασθαι: τοὺς δὲ μὴ εἰδότας οὐδὲν ἔφη θαυμαστὸν εἶναι αὐτούς τε σφάλλεσθαι καὶ ἄλλους σφάλλειν: ὧν ἕνεκα σκοπῶν σὺν τοῖς συνοῦσι, τί ἕκαστον εἴη τῶν ὄντων, οὐδέποτ᾽ ἔληγε...ἐπὶ τὴν ὑπόθεσιν ἐπανῆγεν ἂν πάντα τὸν λόγον. i.e., as is explained by the context, he referred all doubtful points to universal conceptions, in order to settle them by means of these; iv. 5, 12: ἔφη δὲ καὶ τὸ διαλέγεσθαι ὀνομασθῆναι ἐκ τοῦ συνιόντας κοινῇ βουλεύεσθαι διαλέγοντας κατὰ γένη τὰ πράγματα. δεῖν οὖν πειρᾶσθαι ὅτι μάλιστα πρὸς τοῦτο ἑαυτὸν ἕτοιμον παρασκευάζειν. Comp. i. 1, 16, and the many instances in the Memorabilia. Aristotle (Met. xiii. 4, 1078, b, 17, 27): Σωκράτους δὲ περὶ τὰς ἠθικὰς ἀρετὰς πραγματευομένου καὶ περὶ τούτων ὁρίζεσθαι καθόλου ζητοῦντος πρώτου...ἐκεῖνος δ᾽ εὐλόγως ἐζήτει τὸ τί ἐστιν...δύο γάρ ἐστιν ἅ τις ἂν ἀποδοίη Σωκράτει δικαίως, τούς τ᾽ ἐπακτικοὺς λόγους καὶ τὸ ὁρίζεσθαι καθόλου. Both are, however, at bottom the same. The λόγοι ἐπακτικοὶ are only the means for finding universal conceptions, and therefore Aristotle elsewhere (Met. i. 6, 987, b, 1; xiii. 9, 1086, b, 3; De Part. Anim., i. 1, 642, a, 28) justly observes that the seeking for universal conceptions or for the essence of things is the real service rendered to philosophy by Socrates. Accordingly, in the dialogues which Xenophon has preserved, we always see him making straight for the general conception, the τί ἐστιν. Even in Plato’s Apology, 22, B., he describes his sifting of men διερωτᾇν τί λέγοιεν, that is to say, he asks for the conception of the deeds of the practical man, or of the poetry of the poet. Conf. Meno, 70, A.: Phaedr. 262, B.; 265, D. It can, however, hardly be proved from Plato that Socrates really distinguished ἐπιστήμη from δόξα, as Brandis (Gr.-Röm. Phil. ii, a, 36; Gesch. d. Entw. i. 235) would have it; for we cannot decide whether passages like Meno, 98, B. represent the view of Socrates or that of Plato. Antisthenes, too, who, according to Diogenes, vi. 17, wrote a treatise περὶ δόξης καὶ ἐπιστήμης, may owe this distinction to the Eleatics. It can hardly be found in Xen. Mem. iv. 2, 33. In point of substance, no doubt the distinction was implied in the whole conduct of Socrates, and in passages such as Xen, Mem. iv. 6,1; Plato, Apol. 21, B.
In this principle, |111| simple as it may appear, an entire change was demanded in the intellectual procedure. 1 The ordinary way is to take things as being what they appear to the senses to be; or if contradictory experiences forbid doing so, to cling to those appearances which make the strongest impression on the observer, declaring these to be the essence, and thence proceeding to further conclusions. Hitherto this was exactly what philosophers had done.
1 Conf. what has been said above, p. 39, and in Gesch. d. Phil. i. 860.
Even those who attacked the senses as untrustworthy had invariably started from one-sided observations, without being conscious of the necessity of grounding every judgment on an |112| exhaustive enquiry into its subject. By means of sophistry this dogmatism had been overthrown. It was felt that all impressions derived from the senses were relative and personal, that they do not represent things as they are, but as they appear; and, that, consequently, whatever we may assert, the opposite may be asserted with equal justice. For, if for one person at this moment this is true, for another person at another moment that is true.
Similar sentiments are expressed by Socrates relative to the value of common opinions. He is aware that they cannot furnish us with knowledge, but only involve us in contradictions. But he does not hence draw the inference of the Sophists, that no knowledge is possible, but only that it is not possible in that way. The majority of mankind have no true knowledge, because they confine themselves to suppositions, the accuracy of which they have never examined; only taking into consideration one or another property of things, but not their essence. Amend this fault; consider every object in all its bearings, and endeavour from this many-sided observation to determine the true essence; you have then conceptions instead of vague notions—a regular examination, instead of an unmethodical and unconscious procedure—a true, instead of an imaginary knowledge. In thus requiring knowledge of conceptions, Socrates not only broke away from the current view, but, generally speaking, from all previous philosophy. A thorough observation from every side, a critical examination, a methodical enquiry conscious |113| of its own basis, was demanded; all that had hitherto been regarded as knowledge was rejected, because it fell short of these conditions; and at the same time the conviction was expressed that, by observing these rules, real knowledge could be secured.
D. The Moral Value of this Theory
For Socrates this principle had not only an intellectual, but a more immediate moral value. It is in fact one of the most striking things about him that he is unable to distinguish between morality and knowledge, and can neither imagine knowledge without virtue, nor virtue without knowledge. (Particular proof of this will be given subsequently.) In this respect also he is the child of his age, his greatness consisting herein, that with great penetration and spirit he gave effect to its requirements and its legitimate endeavours. Advancing civilisation having created the demand for a higher education amongst the Greeks, and the course of intellectual development having diverted attention from the study onature and fixed it on that of mind, a closer connection became necessary between philosophy and conduct. Only in man could philosophy find its highest object; only in philosophy could the support be found which was needed for life. The Sophists had endeavoured to meet this requirement with great skill and vigour; hence their extraordinary success. Nevertheless, their moral philosophy was too deficient in tenable ground; by doubting it had loosened its intellectual roots only too effectually; hence it degenerated with terrific speed, entering the |114| service of every wicked and selfish impulse. Instead of moral life being raised by the influence of philosophy, both conduct and philosophy had taken the same downward course.
This sad state of things Socrates thoroughly understood. Whilst, however, his contemporaries, either blind with admiration for the Sophistic teaching, were insensible to its dangers, or else through dread of these, and with a singular indifference to the wants of the times and the march of history, denounced the innovators in the tone of Aristophanes, he with keener penetration could distinguish between what was right and what was wrong in the spirit of the age. The insufficiency of the older culture, the want of basis in ordinary virtue, the obscurity of the prevailing notions so full of contradictions, the necessity for intellectual education, all were felt and taught by him as much as by anyone of the Sophists. But to this teaching he set other and higher ends, not seeking to destroy belief in truth, but rather to show how truth might be acquired by a new intellectual process. His aim was not to minister to the selfishness of the age, but rather to rescue the age from selfishness and sloth, by teaching it what was truly good and useful; not to undermine morality and piety, but to build them on a new foundation of knowledge. Thus Socrates was at once a moral and an intellectual reformer. His one great thought was how to transform and restore moral conduct by means of knowledge; and these two elements were so closely associated together in his mind, that he could find |115| no other object for knowledge save human conduct, and no guarantee for conduct save in knowledge. 1 How great the services were which he rendered to both morality and science by this effort, how wholesome was the influence which he exercised on the intellectual condition of his people and of mankind generally, history attests. If in the sequel, the difference between morality and intellect was recognised quite as fully as their unity, yet the tie by which he connected them has never been broken;
1 To revert to the question mooted above, as to whether he primarily regarded knowledge as a means to moral action, or moral action as a result of knowledge, so much may be said: that his peculiarity consisted herein that for him this dilemma did not exist, that for him knowledge as such was at once a moral need and a moral force, and that therefore virtue, as we shall find, was neither a simple consequence of knowledge, nor an end to be attained by means of knowledge, but was directly and in itself knowledge. If, therefore, Labriola (Dottrina di Socrate, 40) describes the only inner motive of Socrates’ action as ‘the moral need of certainty, and the conviction that this is only attainable by a clear and indubitably certain knowledge,’ his statement may be accepted as true. On the other hand, Ribbing’s (Socrat. Studien, i. 46) view does not seem to carry conviction, that, according to both Plato and Xenophon, Socrates took in the first place a practical view of life, and that ‘the theory of knowledge was only developed by him for the sake of a practical purpose.’ We have already seen that, according to Socrates, true knowledge coincides with right intention. But, for the reasons set forth on p. 105, we cannot allow that knowledge with him has no independent value, and is only pursued as a means to a practical purpose; which must be the view of Ribbing, in as far as he contradicts the one given above. Nor do the passages quoted by Ribbing (Plato, Apology 22, D.; 28, D.; 29, E.; 31, A.; 38, A.) suggest this view.
and if in the last centuries of the old world, philosophy took the place of the waning religion, giving a stay to morality, purifying and quickening the moral consciousness, |116| this great and beneficial result, in as far as it can be assigned to any one individual, was due to the teaching of Socrates.
E. The Subjective Character of this Theory
The interest of philosophy being thus turned away from the outer world and directed towards man and his moral nature, and man only regarding things as true and binding of the truth of which he has convinced himself by intellectual research, there appears necessarily in Socrates a deeper importance attached to the personality of the thinker. In this modern writers have thought to discern the peculiar character of his philosophy. (1 Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 40; Rötscher, Aristoph., pp. 245, 388.) Very different, however, is the personal importance of the thinker with Socrates from the caprice of the Sophists, different too from the extreme individualism of the post-Aristotelian schools. Socrates was aware, that each individual must seek the grounds of his own conviction for himself, that truth is not something given from without, but must be found by the exercise of individual thought. He required all opinions to be examined anew, no matter how old or how common they were, proofs only and not authorities claiming belief. Still, he was far from making man, as Protagoras did, the measure of all things.
To Socrates “knowledge was an end in itself...he was persuaded that true knowledge could be obtained by a thoughtful consideration of things.”
He did not even as the Stoics and Epicureans declare personal conviction and practical need to be the ultimate standard of truth, nor yet as the Sceptics, resolve all truth into probability; but to him knowledge was an end in itself; so too he was persuaded |117| that true knowledge could be obtained by a thoughtful consideration of things. Moreover he saw in man the proper object of philosophy, but instead of making of personal caprice a law, as the Sophists did, he subordinated caprice to the general law residing in the nature of things and of moral relations. 1 Instead too of making, with later philosophers, the self-contentment of the wise man his highest end, he confined himself to the point of view of old Greek morality, which could not conceive of the individual apart from the community, 2 and which accordingly regarded activity for the state as the first duty of a citizen, 3 and the law of the state as the natural rule of conduct. 4 Hence the Stoic apathy and indifference to country were entirely alien from Socrates. If it can be truly said ‘that in him commences an unbounded reference to the person, to the freedom of the inner life, 5 it must also be added that this statement by no means exhausts the theory of Socrates. Thus the disputes as to whether the Socratic doctrine rests on a purely personal or a really independent basis 6 will have to be settled, by allowing indeed that, compared with former systems, his teaching exhibits
1 Proofs may be found Xen. Mem. ii. 2; ii. 6, 1-7; iii. 8, 1-3; iv. 4, 20.
2 Compare the conversation with Aristippus, Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 13; and Plato’s Crito, 53, A.
3 It has been already seen that Socrates placed his own activity under this point of view. See pp. 65, 68; Xen. Mem. i. 6, 15; Plato, Apol. 30, A.
4 Mem. iv. 4, 12, and 3, 15, with which the previous remarks respecting the peculiar conduct of the sage may be compared.
5 Hegel, l. c.
6 Compare the views of Rötscher, l. c., and Brandis for the opposite view. ‘Ueber die vorgebliche Subjektivitat der Sokrat. Lehre,’ in Rhein. Mus. ii. 1, 85.
|118| a deeper importance attaching to the personality of the thinker, without, however, by any means belonging to those which are purely relative. It aims at gaining a knowledge which shall do more than satisfy a personal want, and which shall be true and desirable for more than the thinker; but the ground on which it is sought is the personal thought 1 of the individual.
This theory is indeed not further expanded by Socrates. He has established the principle, that only the knowledge which has to do with conceptions is true knowledge. To the further inference that only the being of conceptions is true being, 2 and that therefore only conceptions are true, and to a systematic exposition of conceptions true in themselves—so far he never advanced. Knowledge is here something sought, a problem to be solved by the thinker; philosophy is philosophic impulse, and philosophic method, a seeking for truth, not yet a possessing it;
1 Hegel says nothing very different, when in distinguishing (Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 40, 166) Socrates from the Sophists he says: ‘in Socrates the creation of thought is at once clad with an independent existence of its own,’ and what is purely personal is ‘externalised and made universal by him as the good.’ Socrates is said to have substituted ‘thinking man is the measure of all things,’ in place of the Sophistic doctrine ‘man is the measure of all things.’ In a word, his leading thought is not the individual as he knows himself experimentally, but the universal element which is found running through all individuals. With this view agree also Rotscher, l. c. p. 246, 392, and Hermann, Gesch. und Syst. des Plat. i. 239.
2 The objections of Alberti, Sokr. 94, to the above vanish if the word ‘only’ is properly emphasised. He only asserts what is already well known, that Socrates did not develop his theory of conceptions to the theory of ideas, nor contrast the universal thought in the conception, as being the only thing truly real with individual things.
and this deficiency countenances the view that the platform |119| of Socrates was that of a narrow reference to the person. Still it should never be forgotten, that the aim of Socrates was always to discover and set forth that which is in itself true and good. Mankind is to be intellectually and morally educated, but the one and only means thereto is to attain a knowledge of truth.
The primary aim of Socrates being to train men to think, rather than to construct a system, the main point with him was a philosophic method to determine the way which would lead to truth. The substance of his teaching thus appears to have been partly confined to questions having an immediate bearing on human conduct; partly it does not go beyond the general and theoretical demand, that all action should be determined by a knowledge of conceptions. There is no systematic development of individual points of morality and no attempt to give a reason for them.
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|120|School VI. The Philosophical Method of Socrates
The peculiarity of the method pursued by Socrates consists, generally speaking, in deducing conceptions from the common opinions of men. Beyond the formation of conceptions, however, and the intellectual exercise of individuals his method did not go; nor is there any systematic treatment of the conceptions gained. The theory of a knowledge of conceptions appearing here as a claim, the consciousness of its necessity must be presupposed as existing, and an insight into the essence of things be sought. At the same time, thought does not advance further than this seeking. It has not the power to develope to a system of absolute knowledge, nor has it a method sufficiently matured to form a system. For the same reason, the process of induction is not reduced within clearly defined rules. All that Socrates has clearly expressed is the general postulate, that every thing must be reduced to its conception. Further details as to the mode and manner of this reduction and its strict logical forms, were not yet worked out by him into a science, but were applied by him practically by dint of individual skill. The only thing about him at all resembling a logical |121| rule, the maxim that the process of critical enquiry must always confine itself to what is universally admitted, 1 sounds far too indefinite to invalidate our assertion.
A. Knowledge of Ignorance, Knowledge of not Knowing
This process involves three particular steps. The first is the Socratic knowledge of self. Holding as he did that only the knowledge of conceptions constitutes true knowledge, Socrates was fain to look at all. supposed knowledge, asking whether it agreed with his idea of knowledge, or not. Nothing appeared to him more perverse, nothing more obstructive to true knowledge from the very outset, than the belief that you know what you do not know. 2 Nothing is so necessary as self-examination, to show what we really know and what we only think we know. 3
1 Mem. iv. 6, 15: ὁπότε δὲ αὐτός τι τῷ λόγῳ διεξίοι, διὰ τῶν μάλιστα ὁμολογουμένων ἐπορεύετο, νομίζων ταύτην τὴν ἀσφάλειαν εἶναι λόγου.
2 Xen. Mem. iii. 9, 6: μανίαν γε μὴν ἐναντίον μὲν ἔφη εἶναι σοφίᾳ, οὐ μέντοι γε τὴν ἀνεπιστημοσύνην μανίαν ἐνόμιζε: τὸ δὲ ἀγνοεῖν ἑαυτὸν καὶ ἃ μὴ οἶδε δοξάζειν τε καὶ οἴεσθαι γιγνώσκειν ἐγγυτάτω μανίας ἐλογίζετο εἶναι. Generally speaking, those are called mad who are mistaken about what iscommonly known, not those who are mistaken about things of which most men are ignorant. Also Plato, Apol. 29, B.: καί τοῦτο πῶς οὐκ ἀμαθία ἐστὶν αὕτη ἡ ἐπονείδιστος, ἡ τοῦ οἴεσθαι εἰδέναι ἃ οὐκ οἶδεν;
3 In this sense Socrates, speaking in Plato, Apol. 21, B., says that according to the oracle he had interrogated all with whom he was brought into contact, to discover whether they had any kind of knowledge; and that in all cases he had found along with some kind of knowledge an ignorance, which he would not take in exchange for any kind of knowledge—an opinion that they knew what they did not know. On the other hand, he considered it to be his vocation, φιλοσοφοῦντά με δεῖν ζῆν καὶ ἐξετάζοντα ἐμαυτὸν καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους, (28, E.); and he says elsewhere (38, A.) that there could be no higher good, than to converse every day as he did: ὁ δὲ ἀνεξέταστος βίος οὐ βιωτὸς ἀνθρώπῳ.
Nothing, too, is more indispensable for practical relations |122| than to become acquainted with the state of our inner self, with the extent of our knowledge and capacities, with our defects and requirements. 1 One result of this self-examination being the discovery that the actual knowledge of the philosopher does not correspond with his idea of knowledge, there follows further that consciousness of knowing nothing, which Socrates declared to be his only knowledge. For any other knowledge he denied possessing, 2 and therefore refused to be the teacher of his friends, 3
1 Xenophon, Mem. iv. 2, 24, enquiring into the Delphic γνῶθι σαυτόν, says that self-knowledge is attended with the greatest advantages, want of it with the greatest disadvantages: οἱ μὲν γὰρ εἰδότες ἑαυτοὺς τά τε ἐπιτήδεια ἑαυτοῖς ἴσασι καὶ διαγιγνώσκουσιν ἅ τε δύνανται καὶ ἃ μή: καὶ ἃ μὲν ἐπίστανται πράττοντες (self-examination always refers in the first place to knowledge, because with knowledge right action is given) πορίζονταί τε ὧν δέονται καὶ εὖ πράττουσιν. See also Plato, Phaedrus, 229, E.; he had not time to give to the explanation of myths of which others were so fond, not being even able to know himself according to the Delphic oracle; Symp. 216, A.; when Alcibiades complains: ἀναγκάζει γάρ με ὁμολογεῖν ὅτι πολλοῦ ἐνδεὴς ὢν αὐτὸς ἔτι ἐμαυτοῦ μὲν ἀμελῶ, τὰ δ᾽ Ἀθηναίων πράττω.
2 Plato, Apol. 21, B.: ἐγὼ γὰρ δὴ οὔτε μέγα οὔτε σμικρὸν σύνοιδα ἐμαυτῷ σοφὸς ὤν.—21, D.: τούτου μὲν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐγὼ σοφώτερός εἰμι: κινδυνεύει μὲν γὰρ ἡμῶν οὐδέτερος οὐδὲν καλὸν κἀγαθὸν εἰδέναι, ἀλλ᾽ οὗτος μὲν οἴεταί τι εἰδέναι οὐκ εἰδώς, ἐγὼ δέ, ὥσπερ οὖν οὐκ οἶδα, οὐδὲ οἴομαι.—23, B.: ‘οὗτος ὑμῶν, ὦ ἄνθρωποι, σοφώτατός ἐστιν, ὅστις ὥσπερ Σωκράτης ἔγνωκεν ὅτι οὐδενὸς ἄξιός ἐστι τῇ ἀληθείᾳ πρὸς σοφίαν.’ And a little before: τὸ δὲ κινδυνεύει, ὦ ἄνδρες, τῷ ὄντι ὁ θεὸς σοφὸς εἶναι, καὶ ἐν τῷ χρησμῷ τούτῳ τοῦτο λέγειν, ὅτι ἡ ἀνθρωπίνη σοφία ὀλίγου τινὸς ἀξία ἐστὶν καὶ οὐδενός.—Symp. 216, D.: ἀγνοεῖ πάντα καὶ οὐδὲν οἶδεν. ὡς τὸ σχῆμα αὐτοῦ.—Theaetet. 150, C.; ἄγονός εἰμι σοφίας, καὶ ὅπερ ἤδη πολλοί μοι ὠνείδισαν, ὡς τοὺς μὲν ἄλλους ἐρωτῶ, αὐτὸς δὲ οὐδὲν ἀποφαίνομαι περὶ οὐδενὸς διὰ τὸ μηδὲν ἔχειν σοφόν, ἀληθὲς ὀνειδίζουσιν. τὸ δὲ αἴτιον τούτου τόδε: μαιεύεσθαί με ὁ θεὸς ἀναγκάζει, γεννᾶν δὲ ἀπεκώλυσεν. Comp. Rep. i. 337, E.; Men. 98, B. That this trait in Plato has been taken from the Socrates of history, may be gathered: from the Platonic dialogues, in which his teacher is by no means represented as so ignorant.
3 See above, p. 67.
only wishing, |123| in common with them, to learn and enquire. 1 This confession of his ignorance was certainly far from being a sceptical denial of knowledge, 2 with which the whole philosophic career of Socrates would be irreconcilable, On the contrary, it contains a simple avowal as to his own personal state, and collaterally as to the state of those whose knowledge he had had the opportunity of testing. 3 Nor again must it be regarded as mere irony or exaggerated modesty. 4 Socrates really knew nothing, or to express it otherwise, he had no developed theory, and no positive dogmatic principles. The demand for a knowledge of conceptions having once dawned upon him in all its fulness, he missed the marks of true knowledge in all that hitherto passed for wisdom and knowledge. Being, however, also the first to make this demand, he had as yet attained no definite content for knowledge. The idea of knowledge was to him an unfathomable problem, in the face of which he could not but be conscious of his ignorance. 5
1 κοινῇ βουλεύεσθαι, κοινῇ οκέπτεςθαι, κοινῇ ζητεῖν, συζητεῖν, etc. Xen., Mem. iv. 5, 12; 6, 1; Plato, Theaet. 151, E.; Prot. 330, B.; Gorg. 505. E.; Crat. 384, B.; Meno, 89 E.
2 As the New Academicians would have it, Cic. Acad. i. 12, 44; ii, 23, 74.
3 The already quoted language of the Apology, 23, A., does not contradict this; the possibility of knowledge not being there denied, but only the limited character of human knowledge being asserted in comparison with the divine.
4 As Grote remarks (Plato, 1.; 270, 323), referring to Arist. Soph. El. 34, 183, b, 7: ἐπεὶ καὶ διὰ τοῦτο Σωκράτης ἠρώτα, ἀλλ' οὐκ ἀπεκρίνετο· ὡμολότει γὰρ οὐκ εἰδέναι. Conf. Plato, Rep. 337.
5 Compare Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 54; Hermann, Plato, 326.
And in so far a certain affinity between his view and the sophistic |124| scepticism may be observed. In as far as it denied the possibility of all knowledge, Socrates opposed this scepticism, whilst agreeing with it in as far as it referred to previous philosophy. Natural philosophers, he believed, transcended in their enquiries the limits of human knowledge. A clear proof of this fact is that they are at variance with one another respecting the most important questions. Some hold being to be one, others make of it a boundless variety; some teach that everything, others that nothing, is subject to motion; some that all things, others that nothing comes into being or perishes. 1 Just as the Sophists destroyed the conflicting statements of the natural philosophers by means of each other, so Socrates infers from the contest of systems, that no one of them is in possession of the truth. Their great difference consists herein, the Sophists making Not-knowing into a principle, and considering the highest wisdom to consist in doubting everything; Socrates adhering to his demand for knowledge, clinging to the belief in its possibility, consequently regarding ignorance ab the greatest evil.
1 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 13, says that Socrates did not busy himself with questions of natural science, but on the contraryhe held those who did to be foolish: ἐθαύμαζε δ᾽ εἰ μὴ φανερὸν αὐτοῖς ἐστιν, ὅτι ταῦτα οὐ δυνατόν ἐστιν ἀνθρώποις εὑρεῖν: ἐπεὶ καὶ τοὺς μέγιστον φρονοῦντας ἐπὶ τῷ περὶ τούτων λέγειν οὐ ταὐτὰ δοξάζειν ἀλλήλοις, ἀλλὰ τοῖς μαινομένοις ὁμοίως διακεῖσθαι πρὸς ἀλλήλους, then follows what is quoted in the text.
B. Search for Knowledge: Eros and Irony
Such being the importance of the Socratic Not-knowing, it involves in itself a demand for enlightenment; the knowledge of ignorance leads to a search |125| for true knowledge. The consciousness of our own Not-knowing continuing, and the philosopher having an idea of knowledge without: finding it realised in himself, the search for knowledge naturally assumes the form of an application to others, with a view of ascertaining whether the knowledge wanting at home is to be found with them. 1 Hence the necessity of enquiry in common by means of the dialogue. 2 For Socrates, this mode of intercourse has not merely an educational value, procuring easier access and a more fruitful effect for his ideas, but it is to his mind an indispensable condition of the development of thought, and one from which the Socrates of history never departs. 3 Speaking more accurately, its nature consists in a sifting of men such as it is described in the Apology, 4 or in a bringing to the birth, as it is called in the Theaetetus; 5 in other words, the philosopher by his questions obliges others to unfold their inner self before him: 6
1 The connection is very apparent in the Apology 21, B., if only the inner thought of the philosophy of Socrates is put in the place of the oracular response.
2 Compare p. 123, 2.
3 Compare, besides the Memorabilia, Plato, Apol. 24, C.; Protag. 335, B., 336, B. Theaet. l. c.
4 Similarly Xen. Mem. iv. 7, 1: πάντων μὲν γὰρ ὧν ἐγὼ οἶδα μάλιστα ἔμελεν αὐτῷ εἰδέναι ὅτου τις ἐπιστήμων εἴη τῶν συνόντων αὐτῷ: and the enquiry into human nature has this meaning in Mem. iii. 6; iv. 2; but clearly this is not its original object.
5 See p. 149; 122, 2.
6 Plato, Laches 187, E; he who enters into conversation with Socrates μὴ παύεσθαι ὑπὸ τούτου περιαγόμενον τῷ λόγῳ, πρὶν ἂν ἐμπέσῃ εἰς τὸ διδόναι περὶ αὑτοῦ λόγον, ὅντινα τρόπον νῦν τε ζῇ, nor is there any escape from the most thorough βασανίζεσθαι {testing, examination}.
he asks after their real |126| opinions, after the reasons of their beliefs and actions, and in this way attempts by an interrogatory analysis of their notions to bring out the thought latent therein, of which they are themselves unconscious. 1 In as far as this process presupposes that the knowledge which the questioner lacks may be found in others, it resembles an impulse to supplement one’s own defects by their help. This intercourse with others is, for a philosopher with whom knowing coincides with purposing, not only an intellectual but also a moral and personal need. To enquire in common is at once to live in common. Love of knowledge is at once impulse to friendship, and in the blending together of these two sides consists the peculiarity of the Socratic Eros. 2
In as far as others do not possess the knowledge sought for, and the questions of Socrates only serve to expose their ignorance, the process bears also the character of irony. Irony, however, must not be understood to be merely a conversational trick; 3
1 It is assumed as a matter of course, that everyone can give an account of what he knows and is, Plato, l. c. 190, C.; Charmides 158, E.
2 See above, p. 75. Besides Brandis ii. a, 64, reminds us with justice that treatises on ἔρως are mentioned not only by Plato and Xenophon, but also by Euclid, Crito, Simmias, and Antisthenes, which shows the importance of it for the Socratic schools. The chief passage is in Xenophon, Symp. c. 8, where the advantages of a spiritual and the disadvantages of a sensual love are unfolded, apparently (as a careful survey of the Platonic Symposion will show) by Xenophon, speaking for himself, but) undoubtedly following in the train of Socrates. Even Aeschines and Cebes had treated of ἔρως in the Socratic sense. See Plut. Puer. Ed. c. 15, p. 11, and the fragment of Aeschines in Aristid. Or. xlv. p. 34.
3 Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 53, 57; Conf. Arist. Eth. iv. 13; 1127, b, 22.
still |127| less is it that derisive condescension or affected simplicity, which as it were lures others on to the ice in order to laugh at their falls; or that, absolute reference to the person and destruction of all general truth, which for a time bore this name in the romantic school. Its proper nature consists rather herein, that without any positive knowledge, and prompted only by a desire for knowledge, Socrates addresses himself to others, in the hope of learning from them what they know, but that in the attempt to discover it, upon a critical analysis of their notions, even 1 their supposed knowledge vanishes.
1 Plato at least gives this deeper meaning to the irony of Socrates. See Rep. i. 337, A.: αὕτη ἐκείνη ἡ εἰωθυῖα εἰρωνεία Σωκράτους, καὶ ταῦτ᾽ ἐγὼ ᾔδη τε καὶ τούτοις προύλεγον, ὅτι σὺ ἀποκρίνασθαι μὲν οὐκ ἐθελήσοις, εἰρωνεύσοιο δὲ καὶ πάντα μᾶλλον ποιήσοις ἢ ἀποκρινοῖο, εἴ τίς τί σε ἐρωτᾷ. And again, 337, E.: ἵνα Σωκράτης τὸ εἰωθὸς διαπράξηται: αὐτὸς μὲν μὴ ἀποκρίνηται, ἄλλου δ᾽ ἀποκρινομένου λαμβάνῃ λόγον καὶ ἐλέγχῃ, to which Socrates replies: πῶς γὰρ ἄν...τὶς ἀποκρίναιτο πρῶτον μὲν μὴ εἰδὼς μηδὲ φάσκων εἰδέναι, etc. Symp. 216, E.: εἰρωνευόμενος δὲ καὶ παίζων πάντα τὸν βίον πρὸς τοὺς ἀνθρώπους διατελεῖ, which, as the context shows, refers partly to the fact that Socrates pretended to be in love, without being so in the Greek sense of the term, and partly to the words ἀγνοεῖ πάντα καὶ οὐδὲν οἶδεν. The same, omitting the word εἰρωνεία, is said in the passage of the Theaetetus already mentioned, and in the Meno, 80, A.: οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ αὐτός τε ἀπορεῖς καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ποιεῖς ἀπορεῖν, and also in the Apol. 23. E., in which, after the Socratic sifting of others has been described, it goes on to say: ἐκ ταυτησὶ δὴ τῆς ἐξετάσεως πολλοὶ μἐν ἀπέχθειαί μοι γεγόνασί...ὄνομα δὲ τοῦτο...σοϕὸς εἶναι. οἴονται γάρ ἐκάστοτε οἱ παρόντες ταῦτα αὐτὸν εἶναι σοφὸν ἃ ἂν ἄλλον ἐξελέγξω.. Likewise Xenophon, Mem. iv. 4,10: ὅτι τῶν ἄλλων καταγελᾷς ἐρωτῶν μὲν καὶ ἐλέγχων πάντας, αὐτὸς δ᾽ οὐδενὶ θέλων ὑπέχειν λόγον οὐδὲ γνώμην ἀποφαίνεσθαι περὶ οὐδενός. Ibid. 11. Conf. i. 2, 36: ἀλλά τοι σύ γε, ὦ Σώοκρατες, εἴωθας εἰδὼς πῶς ἔχει τὰ πλεῖστα ἐρωτᾶν.. Hence Quintilian, ix. 2, 46, observes that the whole life of Socrates seemed an irony, because he always played the part of an admirer of the wisdom of others. Connected with this is the use which Socrates made of irony as a figure of speech. Conf. Plut. Gorg. 489, E.; Symp. 218, D.: Xen. Mem. iv. 2. Only its nreaning must not be limited Aristotle already mentioned, to this. Compare also Hermann, Plat. 242, 326, and particularly Schleiermacher, Gesch. d. Phil. 83, and for the use of the word also Leop. Schmidt in Ind. Lection, Marburg, 1873.
This |128| irony is, therefore, speaking generally, the dialectical or the critical factor in the Socratic method, assuming the peculiar form it here does owing to the presupposed ignorance of him who uses it for his instrument.
C. Formation of Conceptions, Method of Proof by Conceptions
Doubtless, however conscious Socrates might be of possessing no real knowledge, he must at least have believed that he possessed the notion and the method of true knowledge. Without this conviction he would neither have been able to confess his own ignorance, nor to expose that of others, both being only rendered possible by comparing the knowledge he found with the idea of knowledge residing within himself. The fact that this idea was no where to be found realised was in itself a challenge to him to set about realising it; and hence resulted as the third point in his philosophic course, the attempt to create real knowledge. For real knowledge he could only allow that to pass which emanated from the conception of a thing, hence the first step here is the formation of conceptions or induction. 1 For even if Socrates does not always make for formal definitions, he at least always seeks sonie universal quality applicable to the conception and to the essence of the object, in order to settle the question under notice by referring the particular case to this universal quality. 2
1 Compare the remarks of p. 110, 2.
2 ἐπὶ τὴν ὑπόθεσιν ἐπανῆγεν ἂν πάντα τὸν λόγον. See p. 110, 2.
The class-quality |129| is therefore to him of the greatest importance.
The starting point for this induction is supplied by the commonest notions. He begins with examples taken from daily life, with well-known and generally admitted truths, On every disputed point he goes back to such instances, and hopes in this way to attain a universal agreement. 1 All previous science being doubtful, nothing remains but to begin anew with the simplest experiences. On the other hand, induction has not as yet so far advanced as to mean the deriving conceptions from an exhaustive and critically tested series of observations. This is a later requirement due partly to Aristotle, and partly to more modern philosophy. The wider basis of a comprehensive knowledge of facts being as yet wanting, nay, even being despised, and Socrates being in the habit of expanding his thoughts in personal conversation with distinct reference to the case before him and to the capacity and needs of his fellow-speakers, he is confined to the assumptions which the circumstances and his own limited experience supply; he must take isolated notions and admissions as his point of departure, and can only go as far as others can follow.
1 Compare what has been quoted, pp. 80, 2; 121, 1, and the whole of the Memorabilia. Plato, too, gives instances of this procedure. See Xen. Oec. 19, 15: ἡ ἐρώτησις διδασκαλία ἐστίν...ἄγων γάρ με δι᾽ ὧν ἐγὼ ἐπίσταμαι, ὅμοια τούτοις ἐπιδεικνὺς ἃ οὐκ ἐνόμιζον ἐπίστασθαι. As to the principle that from the less you proceed to an understanding of the more important, see Plato, Gorg. 947, C.
Hence in most cases he relies more on particular instances than on an exhaustive analysis of |130| experience. 1 This chance element in his principles he, however, endeavours to eliminate by collecting opposite instances, so as to correct and supplement varying experiences by one another. The question, for instance, before him being the conception of injustice: He is unjust, says Euthydemus, who lies, deceives, robs, and such like. Yet, rejoins Socrates, it is right to lie, to deceive, and to rob an enemy. Accordingly the conception must be more accurately defined thus: He is unjust who does such things to his friends. Even such action is, however, permitted under circumstances. A general is not unjust when he encourages his army by a lie, nor a father who gives his son medicine by deception, nor a friend who robs his friend of the weapon with which he would have committed suicide. We must, therefore, introduce a further limitation. Unjust is he who deceives or robs his friends in order to do them harm. (Mem. iv. 2, 11.) Or the conception of a ruler has to be discovered. General opinion regards a ruler as one who has the power to give orders. But this power, Socrates shows, is conceded only to the steersman on board ship, only to the physician in case of sickness, and in every other case only to those conversant with the special subject. Only he, therefore, is a ruler who possesses the knowledge necessary for ruling. (Ibid, iii. 9, 10.) Or it must be determined what belongs to a good suit of armour.
1 As for example in the comparison of the politician with the physician, pilot, etc.
|131| The smith says, it must be of a proper size. But suppose the man intending to wear it is deformed. Why then, the answer is, it must be of the proper size for his deformity. It therefore has the proper size when it fits. But now, supposing a man wishes to move, must the armour fit exactly? Not so, or he would be hampered in his movements. We must, therefore, understand by fitting what is comfortable for use. 1 In a similar way we see Socrates analysing thoroughly the common notions of his friends. He reminds them of the various sides to every question; he brings out the opposition which every notion contains either within itself or in relation to some other: and he aims at correcting, by additional observations, assumptions resting on a one-sided experience, at completing them, and giving to them amore careful definition. By this process you arrive at what belongs to the essence of every object, and what does not; thus conceptions are formed from notions.
For the purpose of proof, too, the class-qualities of conceptions are also the most important things. In order to investigate the correctness of a quality or the necessity of a course of action, Socrates falls back on the conception of the thing to which it refers; 2 and therefrom deduces what applies to the given case. 3
1 Mem. iii. 10, 9.
2 l. c. iv. 6, B.
3 For instance, in order to reprove Lamprocles for his conduct to Xanthippe, he first (Mem. ii. 1) lets him give a definition of ingratitude, and then shows that his conduct falls under this conception; in order to put his duties before a commander of cavalry, he begins (Mem. iii, 3, 2) by stating what is his employment, and enumerating its different parts; in order to prove the being of the Gods, he begins with the general principle that all that serves an end must have an intelligent cause (Mem. i. 4, 4); in order to determine which of two is the better citizen, he first enquires into the peculiar features of a good citizen (iv. 6, 14).
As in seeking conceptions he always |132| progresses from what is known and universally admitted, 1 so, too, he does here. Hence his method of proof takes the most varied turns, 2 according as it starts from one or another point of departure. He allows a general principle to be taken for granted, and includes under it the particular case; 3 he refutes foreign assertions by bringing home to them contradictions with themselves or with other undoubted assumptions or facts; 4 he builds up the premisses from which he deduces his conclusions by means of induction, or concludes straight off by an apparent analogy. 5 A theory of this method of proof he has not given, nor distinguished the various kinds of proof. The essential point about it is only this, that everything is measured and decided by conceptions. To find the turns by which this end is reached is a matter of personal critical dexterity. Aristotle, therefore, in making the chief merit of Socrates from this side consist in the formation of conceptions and in induction, 6 must on the whole be allowed to be right.
1 See above, pp. 131; 121, 1.
2 Conf. Schroegler, Gesch. d. Griech. Phil., 2 Aufl., p. 121.
3 As in the cases quoted on p. 131, 3.
4 For instance, Mem. i. 2, 34 and 36; iv. 2, 31; 4, 7.
5 Mem. iv. 2, 22; iv, 4,14; i. 2, 32.
6 See p, 110, 2.
Asking further as to the objects on which Socrates practised his method, we encounter in the Memorabilia of Xenophon a motley array of materials— |133| investigations into the essence of virtue, the duties of aman, the existence of Gods, disputes with Sophists, advice of the most varied kind given to friends and acquaintances, conversations with generals as to the responsibilities of their office, with artificers and tradesmen as to their arts, even with loose women as to their mode of life. Nothing is too small to arouse the curiosity of the philosophy and to call for a thorough and methodical examination. As Plato at a later time found in all things without exception essential conceptions, so, too, Socrates, purely in the interest of knowledge, even where no educational or other good was apparent, referred everything to its conception. (See p. 109.) He looked upon the life and pursuits of man as the real object of his enquiries, and other things only in as far as they affected the conditions and problems of human life. Hence his philosophy, which in point of scientific form was a criticism of what is (διαλεκτική {dialectic}), became in its actual application a science of human actions (ἠθική {ethics}).
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|134|Chapter VII. The Substance of the Teaching of Socrates: Ethics
A. The Subject-Matter Restricted to Ethics
Socrates, says Xenophon, 1 did not discourse concerning the nature of the All, like most other philosophers before him; he did not enquire into the essence of the world and the laws of natural phenomena; on the contrary, he declared it folly to search into such subjects; for it is unreasonable to quiz things divine before fully understanding things human; besides, the conflicting opinions of natural philosophers prove that the object of their research transcends the capacity of human knowledge. After all, these enquiries are of no practical use. Quite in keeping with this view, the Socrates of Xenophon tests even geometry and astronomy 2 by the standard of immediate utility, as being the knowledge respectively requisite for surveying and navigation. To carry them further than this he considers to be a useless waste of time, or even impious; for man can never come upon the track of the mighty works of the Gods, nor do the Gods desire that he should attempt such knowledge.
1 Mem. i. 1, 11. Conf. p. 124, 1.
2 Ibid. iv. 7.
|135| Hence in all such attempts, extravagances such as those of Anaxagoras are sure to come to view. 1
The accuracy of this description of Socrates has, however, not passed unchallenged by modern writers. 2 Granting, it is said, that Socrates really expressed these and similar sentiments, can they be rightfully so understood as though he would altogether deprecate speculative enquiry into nature’ Would not such an assertion too manifestly contradict his own fundamental view, the idea of the oneness of all knowledge? Would it not lead, if propounded as Xenophon has done, to consequences manifestly unreasonable? Even Plato 3 bears testimony fo the fact that Socrates did not attack natural science in itself, but only the ordinary treatment of it; nor can Xenophon himself conceal the fact that he did devote his attention to nature, 4
1 Mem. iv. 7, 6: ὅλως δὲ τῶν οὐρανίων, ᾗ ἕκαστα ὁ θεὸς μηχανᾶται, φροντιστὴν γίγνεσθαι ἀπέτρεπεν: οὔτε γὰρ εὑρετὰ ἀνθρώποις αὐτὰ ἐνόμιζεν εἶναι οὔτε χαρίζεσθαι θεοῖς ἂν ἡγεῖτο τὸν ζητοῦντα ἃ ἐκεῖνοι σαφηνίσαι οὐκ ἐβουλήθησαν. Such subtleties only lead to absurdities, οὐδὲν ἧττον ἢ Ἀναξαγόρας παρεφρόνησεν ὁ μέγιστον φρονήσας ἐπὶ τῷ τὰς τῶν θεῶν μηχανὰς ἐξηγεῖσθαι—which is then supported by various remarks proving the extravagance of the notion that the sun is a fiery stone.
2 Schleiermacher, Werke, iii. 2, 305-307; Gesch. d. Phil., p. 83; Brandis, Rhein. Mus. i. 2, 130; Gr.-Röm. Phil. ii, a, 34; Ritter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 48, 64; Süvern, Ueber die Wolken des Aristophanes, p. 11; Krische, Forsch. 105; Alberti, Sokr. 93, 98, likewise gives a partial adherence to this view: it might have been expected to go further after what has been said, p. 49, 2.
3 Phaedo, 96, A.; 97, B.; Rep. vii. 529, A.; Phileb. 28, D.; Leg. xii. 966, E.
4 Mem. i. 4; iv. 3. No argument can be drawn from Mem. i, 6, 14: τοὺς θησαυροὺς τῶν πάλαι σοφῶν ἀνδρῶν, οὓς ἐκεῖνοι κατέλιπον ἐν βιβλίοις γράψαντες, ἀνελίττων κοινῇ σὺν τοῖς φίλοις διέρχομαι, for these σοϕοὶ need not necessarily be the earlier natural philosophers. Σοϕοὶ is also used of poets, chroniclers, etc., and it is expressly stated that Socrates perused their works, in order to find in them what was morally useful for himself and his friends.
hoping by considering the |136| relations of means to ends in nature to gain an insight into its reasonable arrangement. Allowing, therefore, that Socrates, as was the fact, had no special talent for natural science, and hence did not study it to any great extent, at least the germ of a new form of this science may be discovered in him. In his notion of the relation of means to ends in nature must have lain ‘the thought of a universal diffusion of intelligence throughout the whole of nature,’ ‘the theory of an absolute harmony of man and nature, and of man’s occupying such a position in nature as to be a micrgcosm of the world.’ 1 If he stopped at the germ, confining his study of nature to mere practical requirements, this must have been, according to his own opinion, only as a preliminary step. He must have only intended that man ought not to reach into the distance until a critical foundation has been securely laid in the depths of his own inner life; or else it must have reference to popular and not to philosophical study. 2
Unfortunately this view of modern writers rests on assumptions which cannot be supported. In the first place, not only Xenophon, but Aristotle also, 3 not to mention later writers, 4
1 Schleiermacher and Ritter.
2 Krische, 208, as though Socrates made any distinction between training for a philosopher and training for a good man.
3 Met. i. 6 (987, b, 1): Σωκράτους δὲ περὶ μὲν τὰ ἠθικὰ πραγματευομένου περὶ δὲ τῆς ὅλης φύσεως οὐθέν. xiii. 45 De Part, Anim. i. 1 (642, a, 28): ἐπὶ Σωκράτους δὲ τοῦτο μὲν ηὐξήθη, τὸ δὲ ζητεῖν τὰ περὶ φύσεως ἔληξε. Conf. Eth. Eud. i. 5; 1216, b, 2.
4 Cic. Tusc. v. 4, 10; Acad. 1. 4, 1 5; iv. 29, 123; De Fin. v. 29, 87; Rep. i. 10; Seneca. Ep. 71, 7; Sext. Math. vii. 8; Gell. N. A. xiv. 6, 5, and, according to Demetrius of Byantium, Diog. ii. 21.
asserts that Socrates never |137| pursued the study of nature. Aristotle is, however, the very authority called in to arbitrate when Xenophon and Plato differ. What right have we, then, to stand aghast at his testimony as soon as he declares against Plato? Even Plato, however, indirectly admits in the Timaeus that natural science was foreign to Socrates. If he elsewhere puts in his mouth sayings referring to nature, there is still no evidence that these utterances are historically true. Not even in the passage in the Phaedo can such evidence be found, unless what follows—that Socrates had fallen back on the theory of Ideas—can be taken to be historical. (Phaedo, 100, B.) In one respect Xenophon fully agrees with Plato, in saying that Socrates demanded a consideration of the relation of means to ends in nature. If it is further required that the relation of means to ends should not be understood in the lower sense of a later age, in which it was indeed understood by Xenophon, but that higher speculative ideas should be sought therein, where, we ask, is the historical justification of this view? Lastly, if an appeal is made to the logical consequences of the Socratic theory, do they not prove that Socrates must have been quite in earnest in disparaging a speculative study of nature, and in his popular notion of the relation of means to ends? Had he indeed placed at the head of his system, in this explicit form, the idea of the mutual dependence of all knowledge, it |138| would be impossible to account for his low estimate of physics. If, on the contrary, he was concerned, not about knowledge in general, but about the education and training of men by means of knowledge, is it not very natural that his enquiries should be exclusively directed to the conditions and activities of man, 1 nature being only taken into account in as far as it was useful to man?
1 In this respect Socrates is like Kant, Kant’s position in history being also not unlike his. As Kant, after destroying the older Metaphysics, only retained Ethics, so Socrates, after setting aside natural science, turned his attention exclusively to morals. In the one case, as in the other, the one-sidedness with which the founder begins has been supplemented by the disciples, and the treatment at first adopted for Ethics has been extended to the whole of philosophy. Just as it may be said of Socrates, that, despite his so definitely attested declining of all cosmical and theological speculation on principle, he nevertheless, whilst actually refraining from such enquiries, could not conceal from himself that they were involved, as a necessary consequence, in his intellectual principles; with the same justice may it be said of Kant, that, notwithstanding his critic of pure reason, he must, whilst disputing the Metaphysics of Wolff, have necessarily seen that his principles would lead him consistently to the Idealism of Fichte and the natural philosophy of Schelling; both of whom, and the first-named even against Kant’s own protests, appealed to these consequences. For all that, it is a dangerous business, from a consideration of logical consequences and the historical results of a principle, to correct the clearest statements as to the doctrine of its originator, the question really being, whether and to what extent the founder realised these consequences.
Doubtless this view of the relation of means to ends was, for natural and scientific enquiries, like a seed sown broadcast, which sprang up and bore fruit in the systems of Plato and Aristotle; but to Socrates himself this new department of natural science presented itself only as a subsidiary branch of ethical enquiry, without his |139| being conscious of its range. His conscious interest applies only to Ethics. Even the study of the relation of means to ends in nature was, according to his view, subservient to a moral purpose—that of urging his friends to piety. 1 It cannot be altogether neglected in considering his teaching; nor yet can we allow it, in the sense in which it was used by Socrates, an independent value, nor for this reason prefer it to Ethics.
The same remark applies to theology, which here still coincides with natural science. The motives which deterred him from the one must have deterred him from the other also. 2 If, notwithstanding, he expressed definite views as to the Gods and the worship of the Gods, these views were the outcome of a practical love of piety. Theology then can only be treated by him as an appendix to Ethics.
1 Xen. Mem. i. 4, 1 and 18; iv. 3, 2 and 17.
2 Xen. Mem. i. 1, 11; nothing impious was ever heard from Socrates; οὐδὲ γὰρ περὶ τῆς τῶν πάντων φύσεως...διελέγετο...ἀλλὰ καὶ τοὺς φροντίζοντας τὰ τοιαῦτα [or, as it is said, §15: οἱ τὰ θεῖα ζητοῦντες] μωραίνοντας ἀπεδείκνυε. He asked whether they had fully mastered human things, as having advanced to such enquiries, ἢ τὰ μὲν ἀνθρώπινα παρέντες, τὰ δαιμόνια δὲ σκοποῦντες ἡγοῦνται τὰ προσήκοντα πράττειν; and 16: αὐτὸς δὲ περὶ τῶν ἀνθρωπείων ἀεὶ διελέγετο σκοπῶν τί ἀσεβές, etc.
Even then, there are comparatively very few definite opinions in theology which can be brought home to Socrates with certainty. Indeed, how could it be otherwise, considering that a systematic treatment of Ethics is impossiblewithout a basis either in metaphysics or psychology for it to rest upon? The chief service which Socrates here |140| rendered was a formal one—that of generally referring moral action to knowledge: no sooner, however, is it a question of deducing particular moral acts and relations from knowledge, than he contents himself partly with falling back upon prevailing custom, or else there intervenes an accidental reference to purposes, the defects of which are certainly partially corrected in the sequel.
B. All Virtue is Knowledge—The Leading Thought of Socratic Ethics
The leading thought of the ethics of Socrates may be expressed in the sentence “All virtue is knowledge.” 1 This assertion is most closely connected with his whole view of things. His efforts aim from the first at reestablishing morality and rooting it more deeply by means of knowledge. The experiences of his time have convinced him that the conventional probity of moral conduct, resting as it does on custom and authority, cannot hold its ground. His sifting of men discovered, even in the most celebrated of his contemporaries, 2
1 Arist. Eth. N. vi. 13; 1144, h, 17, 28: Σωκράτης...φρονήσεις ᾤετο εἶναι πάσας τὰς ἀρετάς...Σωκράτης μὲν οὖν λόγους τὰς ἀρετὰς ᾤετο εἶναι（ἐπιστήμας γὰρ εἶναι πάσας), ibid. iii. 11; 1116, b, 4; Eth. Eud. i. 6; 1216, b, 6: ἐπιστήμας γὰρ ᾤετ᾽ εἶναι πάσας τὰς ἀρετάς, ὥσθ᾽ ἅμα συμβαίνειν εἰδέναι τε τὴν δικαιοσύνην καὶ εἶναι δίκαιον. Conf. ibid. iii. 1; 1229, a, 14; vii. 13; M. Mor. 1, 1; 1182, a, 15; 1. 35; 1198, a, 10; Xen. Mem. iii. 9, 5: ἔφη δὲ καὶ τὴν δικαιοσύνην καὶ τὴν ἄλλην πᾶσαν ἀρετὴν σοφίαν εἶναι. τά τε γὰρ δίκαια καὶ πάντα ὅσα ἀρετῇ πράττεται καλά τε κἀγαθὰ εἶναι: καὶ οὔτ᾽ ἂν τοὺς ταῦτα εἰδότας ἄλλο ἀντὶ τούτων οὐδὲν προελέσθαι οὔτε τοὺς μὴ ἐπισταμένους δύνασθαι πράττειν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐὰν ἐγχειρῶσιν, ἁμαρτάνειν, i. 1, 16: he always conversed of justice, piety, καὶ περὶ τῶν ἄλλων, ἃ τοὺς μὲν εἰδότας ἡγεῖτο καλοὺς κἀγαθοὺς εἶναι, τοὺς δ᾽ ἀγνοοῦντας ἀνδραποδώδεις ἂν δικαίως κεκλῆσθαι. The latter iv. 2, 22, Plato, Lach. 194, D.: πολλάκις ἀκήκοά σου λέγοντος ὅτι ταῦτα ἀγαθὸς ἕκαστος ἡμῶν ἅπερ σοφός, ἃ δὲ ἀμαθής, ταῦτα δὲ κακός. Euthyd. 278, E.
2 Plato, Apol. 21, C.; 29, E.
a pretended in place |141| of a genuine virtue. To attain true morality man must seek the standard of action in clear and certain knowledge. 1 The principle which has thus dawned upon him is, however, only understood in a narrow and exclusive spirit. Knowledge is for him not only an indispensable condition and a means to true morality, but it is the whole of morality. Where knowledge is wanting, there not only is virtue imperfect, but there is absolutely no virtue at all. Plato was the first, and after him more completely Aristotle, to improve upon the Socratic doctrine of virtue.
In support of his position, Socrates established the point that without right knowledge right action is impossible, and conversely, that where knowledge exists, right action follows as a matter of course; the former, because no action or possession is of any use, unless it be directed by intelligence to a proper object; 2
1 See p. 118.
2 It is only in Plato (Euth. 280, B.; Meno, 87, C.), that Socrates expressly takes this ground. Hence the Moralia Magna (i. 35; 1198, a, 10) appear to have derived the corresponding view; but it not only sounds very like Socrates, but it is also implied in Xenophon; Socrates there (Mem. iv. 2, 26) explaining more immediately in connection with self-knowledge, that it alone can tell us what we need and what we can do, placing us so in a position to judge others correctly, and qualifying us for expedient and successful action. Nor is it opposed hereto that immediately afterwards it is refused that wisdom is an ἀναμϕισβητήτως ἀγαθόν {unconstrained good}, many a one, like Dedalus and Palamaedes, having been ruined for the sake of wisdom. For this is clearly said by way of argument, and copia is taken in its ordinary acceptation, including every art and every kind of knowledge. Of knowledge, in his own sense of the term, Socrates would certainly never have said that it was not good because it brought men sometimes into peril, as the virtue, identical therewith, also does. What is said, iii. 9, 14, respecting εὐπραξία in contrast to εὐτυχία, that it is κράτιστον ἐπιτήδευμα, also refers to knowledge. For εὐπραξία consists in μαθόντα τε καὶ μελετήσαντά τι εὖ ποιεῖν, or as Plato’s Euthydemus 281, A, explains it: ἐπιστήμη teaches to make a right use of all goods, and as κατορθοῦσα τὴν πρᾶξιν it produces εὐπραγία and εὐτυχία. Xenophon, i. 1, 7; 6, 4, expresses this view more definitely. Aischines, too, in Demetrius de Elocu. 297, Rhet. Gr. ix. 122, puts the question into the mouth of Socrates when speaking of the rich inheritance of Alcibiades: Did he inherit the knowledge how to use it?
the latter, because everyone only does what |142| he believes he must do, what is of use to himself: 1 no one intentionally does wrong, for this would be the same thing as making oneself intentionally unhappy. 2 Knowledge is, therefore, always the strongest power in man, and cannot be overcome by passion.
3
1 Xen. Mem. iii. 9, 4; see above, p. 140, 1; iv. 6, 6: εἰδότας δὲ ἃ δεῖ ποιεῖν οἴει τινὰς οἴεσθαι δεῖν μὴ ταῦτα ποιεῖν; οὐκ οἶμαι, ἔφη. οἶδας δέ τινας ἄλλα ποιοῦντας ἢ ἃ οἴονται δεῖν; οὐκ ἔγωγ᾽, ἔφη. Ibid. 3, 11; Plato, Prot. 358, C.
2 Arist. M. Mor. 1.9: Σωκράτης ἔφη, οὐκ ἐφ ἡμῖν τὸ σπουδαίους εἶναι ἢ φαύλους. εἰ γάρ τις, φησίν, ἐρωτήσειεν ὁντιναοῦν πότερον ἂν βούλοιτο δίκαιος εἶναι ἢ ἄδικος, οὐθεὶς ἂν ἕλοιτο τὴνἀδικίαν. More indefinite are the remarks in Eth. Nic. iii. 7; 1113, b, 14; conf, Eth. Eud. ii, 7; 1223, b, 3, on the statement ὡς οὐδεὶς ἑκὼν πονηρὸς οὐδ᾽ ἄκων μακάριος. Brandis remarks with justice (Gr.-röm. Phil. ii. a, 39) that this refers in the first place to the arguments of the Platonic Socrates (see Meno, 77, B. 3; Prot. 345, D.; 353, C.), but that the same is asserted by Xenophon, Mem. iii. 9, 4; iv. 6, 6 and 11; and by Plato, Apol. 25, E.: ἐγὼ δὲ...τοῦτο τὸ τοσοῦτον κακὸν ἑκὼν ποιῶ, ὡς φῂς σύ; ταῦτα ἐγώ σοι οὐ πείθομαι, ὦ Μέλητε...εἰ δὲ ἄκων διαφθείρω...δῆλον ὅτι ἐὰν μάθω, παύσομαι ὅ γε ἄκων ποιῶ. Conf., Dial. de justo, Schl. Diog. Laert. ii, 31.
3 Plato, Prot. 352, C.: ἆρ᾽ οὖν καὶ σοὶ τοιοῦτόν τι περὶ αὐτῆς δοκεῖ, ἢ καλόν τε εἶναι ἡ ἐπιστήμη καὶ οἷον ἄρχειν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, καὶ ἐάνπερ γιγνώσκῃ τις τἀγαθὰ καὶ τὰ κακά, μὴ ἂν κρατηθῆναι ὑπὸ μηδενὸς ὥστε ἄλλ᾽ ἄττα πράττειν ἢ ἃν ἐπιστήμη κελεύῃ, ἀλλ᾽ ἱκανὴν εἶναι τὴν φρόνησιν βοηθεῖν τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ; The latter is then affirmed with the consent of Socrates. (The further reasoning is probably only Platonic. Arist. Eth. Nic. vii. 3: ἐπιστάμενον μὲν οὖν οὔ φασί τινες οἷόν τε εἶναι· δεινὸν γὰρ ἐπιστήμης ἐνούσης, ὡς ᾤετο Σωκράτης, ἄλλο τι κρατεῖν. Eth. Eud. vii. 13. If, therefore, anyone seems to act contrary to his better judgment, Socrates does not allow that is really the case. He rather infers the contrary. His conduct being opposed to right reason, he concludes that he is wanting in this quality; Mem. iii. 9, 4: προσερωτώμενος δὲ εἰ τοὺς ἐπισταμένους μὲν ἃ δεῖ πράττειν, ποιοῦντας δὲ τἀναντία σοφούς τε καὶ ἀκρατεῖς εἶναι νομίζοι, οὐδέν γε μᾶλλον, ἔφη, ἢ ἀσόφους τε καὶ ἀκρατεῖς. In Xenophon, indeed, this is so put, as if Socrates had admitted the possibility of a case of knowing right and doing wrong. The real meaning of the answer, however, can only be the one given above.
|143| As regards that virtue which appears to be furthest removed from knowledge, the virtue of bravery, he more especially insisted upon it, that in all cases, he who knows the true nature of an apparent danger and the means of avoiding it, is braver than he who has not such knowledge. 1 Hence he concludes that virtue is entirely dependent upon knowledge; and accordingly he defines all the particular virtues in such a way, as to make them consist in knowledge of some kind, their difference being determined by the difference of their objects. He is pious who knows what is right towards God; he is just who knows what is right towards men. 2
1 Xen. Mem. iii. 9, 2; Symp. 2, 12: Socrates remarks, in reference to a dancing girl who is deliberating about sword points: οὔτοι τούς γε θεωμένους τάδε ἀντιλέξειν ἔτι οἴομαι, ὡς οὐχὶ καὶ ἡ ἀνδρεία διδακτόν. Plato, Prot. 349, E., where it is proved by various examples—divers, knights, peltastae—that of οἱ ἐπιστήμονες τῶν μὴ ἐπισταμένων θαρραλεώτεροί εἰσιν. Arist. Eth. Nic. iii. 11; 1116, b, 3: δοκεῖ δὲ καὶ ἡ ἐμπειρία ἡ περὶ ἕκαστα ἀνδρεία εἶναι: ὅθεν καὶ ὁ Σωκράτης ᾠήθη ἐπιστήμην εἶναι τὴν ἀνδρείαν. Conf. Eth. Eud. iii. 1; 1229, a, 14.
2 εὐσεβής = ὁ τὰ περὶ τοὺς θεοὺς νόμιμα εἰδὼς. Δικαίος = ὁ εἰδὼς τὰ περὶ τοὺς ἄνθρωπος νόμιμα. Mem. iv. 6, 4 and 6. The εὐσεβεία, the definition of which is here given, is the same as the ὁσιότης, the conception of which is sought in Plato’s Euthyphro. If, therefore, Grote, Plato, i. 328, remarks à propos of the latter, that Xenophon’s Socrates was neither asking after the general conception of the holy, nor indeed could presuppose it, his observation is contradicted by appearances. It does not, however, follow herefrom that Socrates wished the Gods to be honoured νόμῳ πόλεως. Why could he not have said, piety or holiness consists in the knowledge of that which is right towards the Gods, and to this belongs, in respect of the honouring of God, that each one pray to them after the custom of his country. A pious mind is not the same thing as worship. That may remain the same when the forms of worship are different.
He is |144| brave who knows how to treat dangers properly; 1 he is prudent and wise who knows how to use what is good and noble, and how to avoid what is evil. 2 In a word, all virtues are referred to wisdom or knowledge, which are one and the same. 3 The ordinary notion that there are many kinds of virtue is incorrect. Virtue is in truth but one. 4
1 Xen. Mem. iv. 6, 11: οἱ ἄρα κακῶς χρώμενοι διημαρτήκασιν; εἰκός γ᾽, ἔφη. οἱ μὲν ἄρα ἐπιστάμενοι τοῖς δεινοῖς τε καὶ ἐπικινδύνοις καλῶς χρῆσθαι ἀνδρεῖοί εἰσιν, οἱ δὲ διαμαρτάνοντες τούτου δειλοί. Plato, Prot. 360, D.: 7 ἡ σοφία ἄρα τῶν δεινῶν καὶ μὴ δεινῶν ἀνδρεία ἐστίν. The same thing is conveyed by the definition in Laches, 194, B. (which is not much imperilled by the objections raised thereto from a Socratic point of view). Courage is ἡ τῶν δεινῶν καὶ θαρραλέων ἐπιστήμη must not be rendered ‘bold’ (as Schaarschmidl, Samml. da. plat. Schr. 409, does). It means rather, according to 198, B., as it so often does, ἃ μὴ δέος παρέχει. Conf, Bonitz, Plat. Stud. iii. 441.
2 Mem. iii. 9, 4: σοφίαν δὲ καὶ σωφροσύνην οὐ διώριζεν, ἀλλὰ †τὸν τὰ μὲν καλά τε κἀγαθὰ γιγνώσκοντα χρῆσθαι αὐτοῖς καὶ τὸν† τὰ αἰσχρὰ εἰδότα εὐλαβεῖσθαι σοφόν τε καὶ σώφρονα ἔκρινε.
3 Mem. iv. 6, 7: ὃ ἄρα ἐπίσταται ἕκαστος, τοῦτο καὶ σοφός ἐστιν.
4 Plato develops this thought in his earlier writings, Prot. 329, B.; 349, B.; 360, E.: which, however, kept much more closely to the platform of Socrates; it is also evidently contained in Xenophon. His meaning, as may be gathered from Mem. iii. 9, 4, is certainly not: some one may possess the knowledge in which one virtue consists, whilst lacking the knowledge in which another consists; but he assumes, just as Plato’s SocrateS does in the Protagoras, that where one virtue is, all must be there, all depending on the knowledge of the good. From this doctrine of Socrates the Cynic and Megarian notions of the oneness of virtue arose.
Nor does the |145| difference between one person and another, one time of life and another, one sex and another, affect the question. For in all cases it is one and the same thing, which makes the conduct virtuous, 1 and in all persons the same natural capacity for virtue must be assumed to exist. 2 The main point then invariably is to cultivate this disposition by education. Some may bring with them more, others fewer gifts for any particular activity; yet all alike require exercise and training; the most talented require it most, would they not be lost in ruinous errors. 3 There being no greater obstacle to true knowledge than imaginary knowledge, nothing can in a moral point of view be more urgently necessary than self-knowledge, to dispel the unfounded semblance of knowledge and to show to man his wants and needs.
1 Plato, Meno, 71, D., and Aristotle, Pol. i. 13, probably, following the passage in Plato, 1216, a, 20, which he must in some way have harmonised with the Socratic teaching: ὥστε φανερὸν ὅτι ἔστιν ἠθικὴ ἀρετὴ τῶν εἰρημένων πάντων, καὶ οὐχ ἡ αὐτὴ σωφροσύνη γυναικὸς καὶ ἀνδρός, οὐδ᾽ ἀνδρεία καὶ δικαιοσύνη, καθάπερ ᾤετο Σωκράτης...πολὺ γὰρ ἄμεινον λέγουσιν οἱ ἐξαριθμοῦντες τὰς ἀρετάς.
2 Xen. Sym. 2, 9: καὶ ὁ Σωκράτης εἶπεν: ἐν πολλοῖς μέν, ὦ ἄνδρες, καὶ ἄλλοις δῆλον καὶ ἐν οἷς δ᾽ ἡ παῖς ποιεῖ ὅτι ἡ γυναικεία φύσις οὐδὲν χείρων τῆς τοῦ ἀνδρὸς οὖσα τυγχάνει, γνώμης δὲ καὶ ἰσχύος δεῖται. Conf. Plato, Rep. v. 452, E.
3 Mem. iii. 9, 1; iv. 1, 3; iv. 2, 2. The question whether virtue is a natural gift or a result of instruction—the identical question to which Plato devoted a thorough discussion in the Meno and Protagoras—appears to have become a favourite topic of discussion, thanks to the appearance of the Sophistic teachers of virtue. Such at least it seems in Xenophon, iii. 9, 1, and in the Meno. Pindar had previously drawn the contrast between natural and acquired gifts. See above, p. 23.
Right action according to Socratic principles invariably follows upon knowledge, just as wrong action follows from absence of |146| knowledge; he who knows himself will, without fail, do what is healthful, just as he who is ignorant of himself will, without fail, do what is harmful. 1 Only the man of knowledge can do anything fitting; he alone is useful and esteemed. 2 In short, knowledge is the root of all moral action; want of knowledge is the cause of every vice; and were it possible wittingly to do wrong, that were better than doing wrong unwittingly; for in the latter case the first condition of right action, the moral sentiment, is wanting, whilst in the former case it would be there, the doer being only faithless to it for the moment. 3
1 Mem. iv. 2, 24. For examples of conversations, in which Socrates endeavoured to bring his friends to a knowledge of themselves, see Mem. iii. 6; iv. 2.
2 Mem. i. 2, 52: the accuser charged Socrates with inducing his followers to despise their friends and relations; for he had declared, those only deserve to be honoured who can make themselves useful by means of their knowledge. Xenophon allows that he showed how little useless and ignorant people were esteemed by their own friends and relatives; but he says that Socrates did not thereby intend to teach them to despise dependants, but only to show that understanding must be aimed at, ὅτι τὸ ἄφρον ἄτιμόν ἐστι.
3 Mem. iv. 2, 19: τῶν δὲ δὴ τοὺς φίλους ἐξαπατώντων ἐπὶ βλάβῃ, ἵνα μηδὲ τοῦτο παραλίπωμεν ἄσκεπτον, πότερος ἀδικώτερός ἐστιν, ὁ ἑκὼν ἢ ὁ ἄκων. The question is afterwards thus settled: τῶν δὲ δὴ τοὺς φίλους ἐξαπατώντων ἐπὶ βλάβῃ,πότερος ἀδικώτερός ἐστιν, ὁ ἑκὼν ἢ ὁ ἄκων. Conf. Plato, Rep. ii. 382; iii. 389, B.; iv. 459, C.; vii. 535, E.; Hipp. Min. 371, E. It is only an imaginary case to suppose that any one can knowingly and intentionally do what is wrong; for according to the principles of Socrates, it is impossible to conceive that the man who possesses knowledge as such should, by virtue of his knowledge, do anything but what is right, or that any one should spontaneously choose what is wrong. If, therefore, an untruth is told knowingly and intentionally, it can only be an apparent and seeming untruth, which Plato allows as a means to higher ends (Rep. ii. 382; iii. 389, B.; iv. 459, C.), whereas want of knowledge is the only proper lie, a proper lie being always unintentional, Rep. ii. 382; v. 535, E. See Zeller’s Phil. Stud. p. 152.
What, however, the knowledge |147| is in which virtue consists, whether experimental or speculative, purely theoretical or practical—is a question upon which Socrates has not entered. In Xenophon at least he places learning and exercise quite naturally together, 1 although Plato had distinguished them, 2 and to prove that virtue consists in knowledge, that it requires knowledge, and can be acquired by instruction, he chooses by preference, even in the pages of Plato, examples of practical acquirements and of mechanical dexterity. 3
C. The Good and Eudaemonism
(1) Theoretically Virtue is Knowledge About the Good. As yet, however, all that has been laid down is in the nature of a formal definition. All virtue is knowledge, but of what is it the knowledge? To this Socrates gives the general answer, knowledge of the good. He is virtuous, just, brave, and so forth, who knows what is good and right. 4 Even this addition is as wide and indefinite as those before.
1 At the beginning of the Meno.
2 Mem. iii. 9, 1, Socrates answers the question whether bravery is a διδακτὸν or φυσικόν: the disposition thereto is quite 48 various as is bodily power. νομίζω μέντοι πᾶσαν φύσιν μαθήσει καὶ μελέτῃ πρὸς ἀνδρείαν αὔξεσθαι, in proof of which it may be noted that no nation with weapons to which it is unaccustomed ventures to encounter those who are familiar with them. So, too, in everything else, it is the ἐπιμελειᾳ, ‘the μανθάνειν καὶ μελετᾶν, whereby natural gifts are really developed to mastery. In Mem. iv. 1, 3, μαθήσις and παίδεία are generally required, but even here no difference is made between theoretical and practical knowledge.
3 So Protag. 349, E.; Mem. iii. 9, 1 and 11: ἄρχοντες are those ἐπισταμένοι ἄρχειν, the steersman in a ship, in agriculture, sickness, and athletics, those who have made it their profession, women in spinning. The question here raised is discussed at length by Strümpell, Gesch. d. Prakt. Phil. d. Gr. vor Arist. 146.
4 See p. 143.
Knowledge which |148| makes virtue, is knowledge of the good; but what is: the good? The good is the conception of a thing viewed as anend. Doing what is good, is acting up to the conception of the corresponding action, in short, knowledge in its practical application, The essence of moral action is therefore not explained by the general definition, that it is a knowledge of the good, the right, and so forth. Beyond this general definition, however, Socrates did not advance in his philosophy. Just as his speculative philosophy stopped short with the general requirement that knowledge belonged to conceptions only, so his practical philosophy stopped short with the indefinite postulate of conduct conformable to conceptions. From such a theory it is impossible to deduce definite moral actions. If such are sought no other alternative remains but to look for them in some other way, either by adopting the necessary principles from the prevailing morality without further testing them; or, in as far as principles according to. the theory of knowledge must be vindicated before thought, by a reference to experience and to the well-known consequences of actions.
(2) Practically the Good is determined by custom or utility. As a matter of fact both courses were followed by Socrates. On the one hand he explained the conception of the right by that of the lawful. 1
1 Mem. iv. 6, 6: δίκαια δὲ ἔφη, ὁποῖα καλεῖται;—ἃ οἱ νόμοι κελεύουσιν, ἔφη.—οἱ ἄρα ποιοῦντες ἃ οἱ νόμοι κελεύουσι δίκαιά τε ποιοῦσι καὶ ἃ δεῖ; πῶς γὰρ οὔ; In Mem. iv. 4, 12, Socrates says: φημὶ γὰρ ἐγὼ τὸ νόμιμον δίκαιον εἶναι, and when Hippias asks for further information as to what is meant by νόμιμόν: νόμους δὲ πόλεως, ἔφη, γιγνώσκεις; ἔγωγε, ἔφη;—Οὐκοῦν, ἔφη [Socrates], νόμιμος μὲν ἂν εἴη ὁ κατὰ ταῦτα.παραβαίνων; πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη—οὐκοῦν καὶ δίκαια μὲν ἂν πράττοι ὁ τούτοις πειθόμενος, ἄδικα δ᾽ ὁ τούτοις ἀπειθῶν—πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
The |149| best service of God, he says, is that which agrees with custom; 1 and he will not withdraw himself even from an unjust sentence, lest he should violate the laws. 2 On the other hand, as a necessary consequence of this view of things, he could not be content with existing moral sanctions, but was fain to seek an intellectual basis for morality. This he could only take from a consideration of consequences; and in so doing he frequently proceeds most superficially, deriving his ethical principles by a line of argument, which taken by itself differs in results more than in principles, from the moral philosophy of the Sophists. 3 When asked whether there could be a good, which is not good for a definite purpose, he distinctly stated that he neither knew, nor desired to know of such a one: 4
1 Mem. iv. 3, 16: Euthydemus doubts whether anyone can worthily honour the gods. Socrates tries to convince him. ὁρᾷς γὰρ ὅτι ὁ ἐν Δελφοῖς θεός, ὅταν τις αὐτὸν ἐπερωτᾷ πῶς ἂν τοῖς θεοῖς χαρίζοιτο, ἀποκρίνεται: νόμῳ πόλεως The same principle is attributed to Socrates, i, 3, 1.
2 See p. 77, 1.
3 As Dissen has already shown, in the treatise referred to p. 100, 2. Compare Wiggers, Socrates, p. 187; Hurndall, De Philosophia Mor. Socr. Grote (Hist. of Greece, viii. 605) agrees with this statement, only refusing to allow as to speak of Sophistic morals as if they were uniform.
4 Mem. iii. 8, 1-7, where it is said, amongst other things: εἴ γ᾽ ἐρωτᾷς με εἴ τι ἀγαθὸν οἶδα ὃ μηδενὸς ἀγαθόν ἐστιν, οὔτ᾽ οἶδα, ἔφη, οὔτε δέομαι...λέγεις σύ, ἔφη [Ἀρίστιππος] καλά τε καὶ αἰσχρὰ τὰ αὐτὰ εἶναι; καὶ νὴ Δί᾽ ἔγωγ᾽, ἔφη [Σωκράτης] ἀγαθά τε καὶ κακά...meaning, as the sequel shows (not as Ribbing, l. c. p. 105, translates it: good and evil are the same), but the same thing is good and evil, in as far as for one purpose it is useful, that is good, and for another harmful; πάντα γὰρ ἀγαθὰ μὲν καὶ καλά ἐστι πρὸς ἃ ἂν εὖ ἔχῃ, κακὰ δὲ καὶ αἰσχρὰ πρὸς ἃ ἂν κακῶς.
Everything is good and |150| beautiful in relation to the special needs which it subserves, and therefore one and the same thing may be good for one and bad for another. He declared in a manner most pronounced, that the good is nothing else but the advantageous, the beautiful nothing else. but the useful; everything therefore is good and beautiful in relation to the objects for which it is advantageous and useful; 1 confirming his doctrine of the involuntary nature of evil—one of the leading principles of his ethics—by the remark that everyone does that which he thinks advantageous for himself. 2
There is, therefore, according to his view no absolute, but only a relative good; advantage and disadvantage are the measures of good and evil. 3 Hence in the dialogues of Xenophon he almost always bases his moral precepts on the motive of utility. We should aim at abstinence, because the abstinent man has a more pleasant life than the incontinent: 4 we should inure ouselves to hardships, because the hardy man is more healthy, and because he can more easily avoid dangers, and gain honour and glory: 5
1 Xen. Mem. iv. 6, 8, concluding: τὸ ἄρα ὠφέλιμον ἀγαθόν ἐστιν ὅτῳ ἂν ὠφέλιμον ᾖ...τὸ χρήσιμον ἄρα καλόν ἐστι πρὸς ὃ ἂν ᾖ χρήσιμον; conf. iv. 1, 5; 5, 6; Symp. 5,3; Plato, Prot. 333, D.; 3653, C., where § Socrates meets Protagoras with the statement: ταῦτ᾽ ἐστὶν ἀγαθὰ ἅ ἐστιν ὠφέλιμα τοῖς ἀνθρώποις and afterwards explains good to be that which affords pleasure or averts pain.
2 Xen. Mem. iii. 9, 4: something similar is found in Plato’s. Protagoras, 358, B.
3 On the other hand, little importance can be attached to the treatment of happiness as the highest end of life in Mem. iii, 2, 4. All Greek philosophers do the same, including Plato, Aristotle, and even the Stoics.
4 Mem. i. 5, 6; ii. 1, 1; conf. iv. 5, 9.
5 Mem. iii, 12; ii, 1, 18; conf. i. 6.
We |151| should be modest, because boasting does harm and brings disgrace. 1 We should be on good terms with our relatives, because it is absurd to use for harm what has been given us for our good; 2 we should try to secure good friends, since a good friend is the most useful possession: 3 we should not withdraw from public affairs, since the well-being of the community is the well-being of the individual; 4 we should obey the laws, since obedience is productive of the greatest good to ourselves and to the state; and we should abstain from wrong, since wrong is always punished in the end. 5 We should live virtuously, because virtue carries off the greatest rewards both from God and man. 6 To argue that all such-like expressions do not contain the personal conviction of the philosopher, but are intended to bring those to virtue by meeting them on their own ground, who cannot be got at by higher motives, is evidently laboured, considering the definiteness with which Socrates expresses himself. 7 Unless, therefore, Xenophon is misleading on essential points, we must allow that Socrates was in earnest in explaining the good as the useful, and consequently in the corresponding derivation of moral duties.
1 Mem. i. 7.
2 Ibid. ii. 3, 19.
3 Ibid. ii. 4, 5; ii. 6, 4 and 10.
4 Ibid. iii. 7, 9; ii. 1, 14.
5 Ibid. iv. 4, 1 6 and 20; iii. 9, 12.
6 Mem. ii. i, 27, gives an extract from a writing of Prodicus, the substance of which Socrates appropriates, Conf. i. 4,18; iv. 3, 17.
7 This point will be subsequently discussed.
(3) Inconsistency of Socratic Morality. True it is that in the mouth of Socrates other utterances are met with, leading us beyond this |152| superficial ground of moral duties, by placing the essential advantage of virtue, the purpose which it serves and because of which it is good and beautiful in its influence on the intellectual life of man. 1 Most undoubtedly and decidedly would this be the view of Socrates could we attribute to him the maxim so familiar to the Socrates of Plato, 2 that righteousness is health, unrighteousness disease of the soul, and consequently that all wrong-doing invariably injures him who does it, whereas the right is necessarily and always useful. Language of this kind occurring in the Republic and Gorgias does not justify our believing it. In these dialogues much is put into the mouth of Socrates, which he never said and never can have said. Nor can it be pleaded that Plato would never have held such pure moral conceptions, unless he had had them from his teacher. Otherwise the theory of ideas and‘much besides which is found in Plato would have to be attributed to Socrates. We cannot even vouch for it that everything contained in the Crito comes from Socrates, its author not having been present at the conversation which it describes. Having apparently, however, been committed to writing no long time after the death of Socrates, and not going beyond his point of view, it is noteworthy that this dialogue contains the same principles: 3
1 On what follows compare Ribbing, p. 83, 91, 105, whose researches are here thankfully acknowledged, whilst all his conclusions are not accepted.
2 See Zeller’s Phil. d. Griech. p. 561 of second edition.
3 Crito 47, D: as in the treatment of the body, the physician’s advice must be followed, so in questions of right and wrong the advice of him ᾧ εἰ μὴ ἀκολουθήσομεν, διαφθεροῦμεν ἐκεῖνο καὶ λωβησόμεθα, ὃ τῷ μὲν δικαίῳ βέλτιον ἐγίγνετο τῷ δὲ ἀδίκῳ ἀπώλλυτο. If, moreover, life in a diseased body has no value: μετ' ἐκείνου ἄρα βιωτὸν ἡυῖν διεϕαρμένου, ᾦ τὸ ἄδικον λωβαται τὸ δὲ δίακιον ὀνίνησιν, provided this is not a ϕαυλότερον but a πολὺ τιμώτερον than that 49, A: wrong-doing always injures and disgraces him who commits it.
A |153| circumstance which at least shows that they have a support in the teaching of Socrates. To the same effect likewise the Apology expresses itself, Socrates therein summing up the purpose of his life as that of convincing his fellow-citizens that the education of the soul is more important than money or property, honour or glory; 1 declaring at the same time in plainest terms, that whether death is an ill or not he knows not, but that injustice is, he knows well. 2
Similar language is found in Xenophon. In his pages too Socrates declares the soul to be the most valuable thing in man, the divine part of his being, because it is the seat of reason and only the Reasonable is of value. 3 He requires, therefore, that the first care should be for the soul. 4
1 Apol. 29, D: as long as he lived, he would not cease φιλοσοφῶν καὶ ὑμῖν παρακελευόμενός... χρημάτων μὲν οὐκ αἰσχύνῃ ἐπιμελούμενος...καὶ δόξης καὶ τιμῆς, φρονήσεως δὲ καὶ ἀληθείας καὶ τῆς ψυχῆς ὅπως ὡς βελτίστη ἔσται οὐκ ἐπιμελῇ οὐδὲ φροντίζεις, he would rather blame a man in every case where it was necesary.
2 Ibid: 29, B.
3 Mem. i. 4, 13: God has not only taken care of the human body, ἀλλ᾽, ὅπερ μέγιστόν ἐστι, καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν κρατίστην τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ ἐνέφυσε, i. 2, 53 and 55, where the statement ὅτι τὸ ἄφρον ἄτιμόν ἐστι is proved by the fact that you bury the body as soon as the soul ἐν ᾗ μόνῃ γίγνεται φρόνησις has left it, iv. 3, 14: ἀνθρώπου γε ψυχή, ἥ, εἴπερ τι καὶ ἄλλο τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων, τοῦ θείου μετέχει.
4 Mem. i. 2, 4: Socrates recommends bodily exercise within certain limits: ταύτην γὰρ τὴν ἕξιν ὑγιεινήν τε ἱκανῶς εἶναι καὶ τὴν τῆς ψυχῆς ἐπιμέλειαν (which accordingly regulates the care of the body) οὐκ ἐμποδίζειν ἔφη.
He is convinced |154| that conduct is better, the more you aim at the education of the soul, and more enjoyable, the more you are conscious thereof. 1 The intellectual perfection of man depending in the first place on his knowledge, wisdom is the highest good, without compare more valuable than ought besides. 2 Learning is recommended not only on account of its utility, but far more because of the enjoyment which it directly confers. 3 These expressions fully agree with what. has been quoted from Plato; they also appear quite consistent in a philosopher who bases the whole of moral conduct so decidedly upon knowledge, and so expressly leads man to knowledge of and to dealing with self, as Socrates does. 4
1 Mem. iv. 8, 6: ἄριστα ἐπιμελομένους τοῦ ὡς βελτίστους γίγνεσθαι, ἥδιστα δὲ τοὺς μάλιστα αἰσθανομένους ὅτι βελτίους γίγνονται. i. 6, 9: οἴει οὖν ἀπὸ πάντων τούτων τοσαύτην ἡδονὴν εἶναι ὅσην ἀπὸ τοῦ ἑαυτόν τε ἡγεῖσθαι βελτίω γίγνεσθαι καὶ φίλους ἀμείνους κτᾶσθαι;
2 Mem. iv. 5, 6: σοφίαν δὲ τὸ μέγιστον ἀγαθὸν κ.τ.λ.; iv. 2, 9, where Euthydemus is commended by Socrates for preferring treasures of wisdom to treasures of gold and silver; for the latter do not make men better, τὰς δὲ τῶν σοφῶν ἀνδρῶν γνώμας ἀρετῇ πλουτίζειν τοὺς κεκτημένους.
3 Mem. iv. 5, 10: ἀλλὰ μὴν τοῦ μαθεῖν τι καλὸν καὶ ἀγαθὸν...οὐ μόνον ὠφέλειαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἡδοναὶ μέγισται γίγνονται. Conf. ii. 1. 19.
4 Conf. pp. 65, 121, 140.
What then must be made of accounts in which Socrates recommends moral duties entirely on grounds of outward adaptation to a purpose, such as we frequently find in Xenophon? Are we to assume that all such explanations are only intended for those who. were too unripe to understand the sage’s real meaning, to show that even on the hypothesis of the ordinary unsatisfactory definition of purpose, virtuous |155| conduct is the best? that Xenophon took these preliminary and introductory discussions for the whole of the Socratic philosophy of life, and hence drew a picture of the latter, representing, it is true, his own but not the platform of the real Socrates? 1 This view has no doubt its truth, but it is hardly the whole truth. We can readily believe that Xenophon found the more tangible foundation for moral precepts which judges them by their consequences both clearer and more intelligible than the deeper one which regards their working on the inner condition of man. We naturally, therefore, expect his description to give the preference to this to him more intelligible explanation even at the cost of the other; and to throw the other more into the background than the actual state of the case warrants. We must, therefore, allow double value to such Socratic utterances as he reports implying a deeper moral life. We cannot, however, consider him so bad a guide as to report utterances which Socrates never expressed, nor can we give to these utterances a meaning by means of which they can be brought into full accord with Plato’s description of the Socratic ethics.
Take for instance the dialogues with Aristippus, 2 where Socrates is asked to point out a thing good,
1 This is, in the main, the view of Brandis, Rhein. Mus. v. Niebuhr u. Brandis,i.b, 138; Gr. Röm. Phil. ii. a, 40; Gesch. d. Entwickl. i. 238; Ribbing, Sokrat. Stud. i. 115; Volquarasen, Daemon d. Sokr. 4, who reproduces Xenophon’s sayings as incorrectly as he does Zeller’s.
2 Mem. iii. 8.
|156| and afterwards a thing beautiful, and both times answers that goodness and beauty consist in nothing else save a subserviency to certain purposes. 1 What inducement had Socrates here to withhold his own opinion? Was Aristippus one of the unripe unphilosophic heads, not in a condition to understand his views? Was he not rather in addition to Plato and Euclid one of the most independent and intellectually best educated thinkers in the Socratic circle? Why should Socrates say to him: everything is good and beautiful for that to which it bears a good relation, and hence the same thing may in relation to one be a good, to another an evil? Why does he not add: one thing there is which is always and unconditionally good, that which improves the soul? Or did he add it, and Xenophon omit it although the main point 2 and was this so in other cases? 3 We could only be justified in such an assumption, were it shown that Socrates could not possibly have spoken as Xenophon makes him speak, or that his utterances cannot possibly have had the meaning, which they have according to Xenophon’s account; 4 to prove which it is not sufficient to appeal to the contradiction with which Socrates is otherwise charged. It is certainly a contradiction to call virtue the highest end of life, and at the same time to recommend it because of the advantages it brings: 5
1 See p. 149, 4.
2 As Mem. iv. 6, 8.
3 Brandis, l. c.
4 As Brandis, l. c. asserts. Conf. Dissen, l. c. 88; Ritter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 70.
5 What Brandis has elsewhere asserted appears to be less open to objection, viz. that Socrates distinguishes mere good fortune from really faring well, and that he only allows happiness in its ordinary sense a place among things relatively good. The former statement is.in Mem. iii. 9, 14; but this distinction even by a decided advocate of Eudaemonism, such as Aristippus, could be admitted, assuming that true and lasting happiness is to be attained not by the uncertain favour of chance, but by one’s own activity and understanding, and that man must not make himself dependent on extreme circumstances, but ensure a lasting enjoyment of life by rising superior to himself and his surroundings. If Brandis (Entw. i. 237) declares this impossible, he need simply be referred to the fact that in the Cyrenaic and Epicurean schools such views are actually met with. See below, ch. xiv. B, 5, and Zeller’s Stoics, Epicureans, etc., p. 44. For the latter statement Brandis appeals to Mem. iv. 2, 34. Here Euthydemus has to be convinced of his ignorance in respect of good and evil. After it has been proved that all things considered by Euthydemus to be goods, wisdom included, may, under certain circumstances, be disadvantageous, Euthydemus says: κινδυνεύει:— ἀναμφιλογώτατον ἀγαθὸν εἶναι τὸ εὐδαιμονεῖν, to which Socrates replies: εἴ γε μή τις αὐτό, ἔφη, ὦ Εὐθύδημε, ἐξ ἀμφιλόγων ἀγαθῶν συντιθείη,or as it is immediately explained, εἴ γε μὴ προσθήσομεν αὐτῷ κάλλος ἢ ἰσχὺν ἢ πλοῦτον ἢ δόξαν ἢ καί τι ἄλλο τῶν τοιούτων, since among all these things there is none which is not the source of much evil. Far from denying, this proceeds on the distinct understanding that happiness is the highest good— which Greek ethics invariably presuppose; neither is it called simply an ἀμφίλογον ἀγαθὸν, except in the case that it is compounded of ἀμφίλογα ἀγαθὰ, i.e. of such things as under certain circumstances lead to evil, and are not simply ἀγαθὰ, but sometimes κακά. Still less is this statement at variance with passages which estimate the value of every thing and of every action by its consequences, a standard being the very thing which Socrates is here laying down.
|157| and Plato recognising this contradiction has avoided it. 1 Still the question really is, whether and to what extent Socrates has avoided it, and nothing can justify our assuming, that he cannot possibly have been involved in it.
1 As Plato has already remarked, Rep. ii. 362, E.; Phaedo, 68 D.
For is there not a contradiction in Kant rejecting most decidedly for the moral estimate of our actions every standard based on |158| experience, and afterwards deciding the question as to what maxims are suited to the principle of universal legislation, having regard to the consequences which would follow were they universally adopted? Is there not a contradiction in the same writer, at one time waging à outrance (in the extreme) against Eudaemonism, at another founding the belief in the existence of God on the demand for a bliss corresponding to worth? Is not the critic of pure reason, in asserting the independent existence of a thing and at the same time unconditionally denying that it can be known, entangled in a contradiction so blatant, that Fichte was of the opinion that if it really assumed the independent existence of a thing, he would rather regard it as the work of a strange coincidence, than of human brains? Can the historian therefore make the philosopher of Konigsberg say what he did not say? Can he violently set aside these contradictions instead of explaining them? And would it be so inconceivable that the same thing should be true of the Socratic doctrine? The philosopher wishes to build moral conduct upon knowledge. In point of form his conception of knowledge is so indefinite, that it includes besides philosophical convictions, every kind of skill derived from experience. 1 In point of matter it suffers from a similar indefiniteness. The subject matter of practical knowledge is the good, and the good is the useful, or what is the same thing the expedient. 2
1 See p. 147.
2 Conf. p. 149, 4; 1 and 2. The identity of the good and the useful is also presupposed in the passages quoted from Plato on p. 152, although the conception of the useful is somewhat extended there.
But in |159| what this consists, Socrates according to all accounts has not expressed with sufficient precision to avoid all ambiguity in his ethics. In passages of Plato from which we can gather the views of the Socrates of history, with some certainty, he does not even go beyond saying that intellectual culture, care for the soul, must be the most important end for man. Still to refer all human actions to this as their ultimate and final purpose is impossible for his unsystematic and casual ethical theories, unsupported by any comprehensive psychological research. Hence other ends having to do with man’s well-being in the most varied ways come apparently independently to support that highest moral purpose, and moral activity itself appears as a means towards attaining these ends. 1 If therefore Xenophon reports a number of Socratic dialogues in which things are so represented, we may still maintain that they do not exhaust the Socratic basis of ethics; but we have no right to question the accuracy of his description, supported as it is by many traces in Plato, nor yet to twist it into its opposite by assuming that we have here only the beginnings of dialogues the real object of which must be a very different one.
1 Compare the sound remarks of Strümpell, Gesch. d. Prakt. Phil d. Gr. 138, resulting in this: Socrates made no such distinction in kind in the conception of the ἀγαθὸν, as to regard the ἀγαθὸν belonging to virtues as moral good, all other good as good for the understanding only, and consequently as only useful and expedient.
Their accuracy on the contrary is vouched for by the |160| circumstance, 1 that among the Socratic schools side by side with the morals of the Cynics and the criticism of the Megarians, a place was found too for the Cyrenaic doctrine of pleasure; and that the founders of these schools to all appearance were firmly persuaded that they reproduced the true spirit of the Socratic teaching. Had that teaching afforded them no foothold, this phenomenon would be hard to understand. In its essence the Socratic morality is anything but selfish. That fact does not, however, prevent its assuming the form of Eudaemonism in its theoretical explanation. We do not complain of it as wanting in moral content, but as wanting in philosophic precision.
1 To which Hermann, Plat. i. 257, rightly draws attention. When, however, this writer finds in the principle of utility (ibid. p. 254 Ges. Abh. 232) or as he prefers to call it in the predominence of relative value not merely a weak point in the philosophy of Socrates, but at the same time an instance of Socratic modesty, one feels inclined to ask, wherein does this modesty consist? And when he connects herewith the more general doctrine, constituting in his view the main difference between the Socratic dialectic and the Sophistic, and also the foundation of the Socratic teaching on the truth of universal conceptions, he appears to advocate a doctrine neither to be found in the Memorabilia (iii. 8, 4-7; 10, 12; iv. 6, 9; 2, 18), nor in the Hippias Major of Plato (p. 288)—the latter by the way a very doubtful authority. It is indeed stated in these passages, that the good and the beautiful are only good and beautiful for certain purposes by virtue of their use, but not that every application of these attributes to a subject has only a relative validity. Under no circumstances would the passage authorise a distinction between the Socratic and the Sophistic philosophy; one of the characteristics of the Sophists consisting in their allowing only a relative value to all scientific and moral principles.
“The Sophists allow only a relative value to all scientific and moral principles.”
D. Particular Moral Relations
To give a systematic account of moral actions was not a part of the intention of Socrates. His views. |161| were from time to time expanded as occasion required. Chance has, to a certain extent, decided which of his dialogues should come down to us. Still it may be assumed that Socrates kept those objects more especially in view, to which he is constantly reverting by preference according to Xenophon. Here in addition to the general demand for moral knowledge, and for knowledge of self, three points are particularly prominent: 1. The independence of the individual as secured by the control of his wants and desires; 2. The nobler side of social life, as seen in friendship; 3. The furtherance of the public weal by a regulated commonwealth. To these may be added the question, 4. Whether, and In how far, Socrates exceeded the range of the ordinary morality of the Greeks by requiring love for enemies?
(1) Personal independence. Not only was Socrates himself a model of self-denial and abstemiousness, but he endeavoured to foster the same virtues in his friends. What other subject was more often the topic of conversation than abstemiousness in the dialogues of Xenophon? 1 And did not Socrates distinctly call moderation the cornerstone of all virtue? 2
1 See the authorities p. 150, 4, 5.
2 Mem. i. 5, 4: ἆρά γε οὐ χρὴ πάντα ἄνδρα, ἡγησάμενον τὴν ἐγκράτειαν ἀρετῆς εἶναι κρηπῖδα, ταύτην πρῶτον ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ κατασκευάσασθαι; This does not contradict the assertion that all virtue consists in knowledge. If Socrates had at all reflected, he would have explained moderation as a kind of knowledge. The above quoted passage might then be taken to mean, that the. conviction of the worthlessness of sensual enjoyments must precede every other moral knowledge.
On this point the ground he occupied was nearly the same as that which afterwards gained such importance for the schools of |162| the Cynics and Stoics; man can only become master of himself by being independent of wants, and by the exercise of his powers; while depending on the conditions and pleasures of the body, he resembles «a slave. 1 A philosopher who considers knowledge to be the highest good, will naturally insist upon the mind’s devoting itself, uninterrupted by the desires and appetites of the senses, 2 to the pursuit of truth in preference to every other thing; and the less value he attaches to external things as such and the more exclusively he conceives happiness to be bound up with the intellectual condition of man, 3 the more will he feel the call to carry these principles into practice, by really making himself independent of the external world. Other motives, however, which served as a standard for moralists of a later epoch, were unknown to Socrates. He was not only an ascetic in relation to the pleasures of the senses, but displayed less strictness than might have been anticipated, neither shrinking from enjoyment, nor yet feeling it needful. To continue master of himself in the midst of enjoyment, by the lucid clearness of his thought—that was the aim which his moderation proposed to itself. 4
1 Xen. Mem. i, 5, 3; i. 6, 5; ii. 1, 11; i. 2, 29; iii. 13, 3; and, in particular, iv. 5, 2; Symp. 8.
2 This connection appears clearly Mem. iv. 5, 6. When Socrates had shown that want of moderation makes man a slave, whilst moderation makes him free, he continues: σοφίαν δὲ τὸ μέγιστον ἀγαθὸν οὐ δοκεῖ σοι ἀπείργουσα τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἡ ἀκρασία εἰς τοὐναντίον αὐτοὺς ἐμβάλλειν; for how can anyone recognise and choose what is good and useful, if he is ruled by the desire of what is pleasant?
3 See pp. 141, 2; 151.
4 See p. 74.
|163| Strongest appears this character of the Socratic abstinence in the language he uses in reference to sensual impulses. However exemplary his own conduct in this respect may have been, yet, in theory, he does not object to the gratification of these impulses out of wedlock, only requiring that it be not carried so far as to exceed the requirements of the body, nor prove a hindrance to higher ends. 1 The leading thought of his moral teaching is not so much strict purity as freedom of mind.
1 Mem. i. 3, 14: οὕτω δὴ καὶ ἀφροδισιάζειν τοὺς μὴ ἀσφαλῶς ἔχοντας πρὸς ἀφροδίσια ᾤετο χρῆναι πρὸς τοιαῦτα, οἷα μὴ πάνυ μὲν δεομένου τοῦ σώματος οὐκ ἂν προσδέξαιτο ἡ ψυχή, δεομένου δὲ οὐκ ἂν πράγματα παρέχοι. The last remark applies partly to the prejudicial workings of passion, which makes a slave of man, and deters him from what is good, and partly to the harm it does to property, honour, and personal security. Socrates considers it ridiculous to incur danger and trouble for the sake of an enjoyment, which could be procured in a so much simpler manner from any common girl. Mem. ii. 1, 5; 2, 4. The use which the Cynics made of these principles will be seen hereafter.
(2) Friendship. This in itself purely negative condition of morality receives its positive supplement when the individual places himself in connection with others. The simplest form of this connection is friendship. Socrates, as we have already remarked, can only defend this relation on the ground of its advantages; still there can be no mistaking the fact that it possessed both for himself and for his philosophy a deeper meaning. For this, if for no other reason, it was cultivated by preference, and discussed in all the Socratic schools. When knowledge and morality so fully coincide as they do from Socrates’ point of view, an intellectual association of individuals is |164| inconceivable without a more extended community of life. These personal relations become, too, all the more necessary in proportion as the thinker fails to be satisfied with his own thinking, and feels a need for investigation in common with others and for mutual interchange of ideas. Just as in the case of the Pythagorean league, from a common pursuit of morality and religion, a lively feeling of clanship, a fondness for friendship and brotherhood was developed, as in other cases, too, like causes produced like results, so, in the Socratic school the blending of moral and intellectual interests was the ground of a more intimate connection of the pupils with the teacher, and amongst themselves, than could have resulted from an association of a purely intellectual character. The question can hardly be asked, which came first with him, which afterwards; whether the need of friendship determined Socrates to a continuous dialogue, or the need of a common enquiry drew him towards all having a natural turn this way. His peculiarity rather consists in this—and this it is which makes him the philosophic lover drawn by Plato—that he could neither in his research dispense with association with others, nor in his intercourse with research.
Accordingly in Socrates are found impressive discussions as to the value and nature of friendship. (Mem, ii. 4-6.) In these he always comes back to the point, that true friendship can only exist amongst virtuous men, being for them altogether natural and necessary; |165| true friends, he says, will do everything for one another. Virtue and active benevolence 1 are the only means for securing friends. From this platform the prevailing custom is then criticised. Socrates not only allows friendship to assume the Greek form of affection for boys and men, but he adopts that form of it himself, hardly only out of mere deference to others. 2 In applying, however, his own moral principles to this relation, he opposes the prevailing errors, and demands a reformation, in order that the sensual conception cf Eros may be transformed into the moral conception of Friendship. 3 True love, he declares, can only then be said to exist when the good of the loved object is sought disinterestedly; not when, with reckless selfishness, aims are pursued and means employed by which both persons become contemptible to one another. Only by an unselfish love can fidelity and constancy be secured. The plea that the complaisance of the one buys the kindly offices of another for its complete training is wholly a mistaken one; for immorality and immodesty can never be means to moral ends. 4
1 Similar explanations are worked into the Platonic Lysis, but probably in too free a manner for us to be able to gain from them any information respecting Socrates.
2 Xen. Symp. 8, 12, the leading thought of which at least is Socratic. Mem. i. 2, 29; 3, 8; ii. 6, 31.
3 Symp. 8, 27: οὐ γὰρ οἷόν τε πονηρὰ αὐτὸν ποιοῦντα ἀγαθὸν τὸν συνόντα ἀποδεῖξαι, οὐδέ γε ἀναισχυντίαν καὶ ἀκρασίαν παρεχόμενον ἐγκρατῆ καὶ αἰδούμενον τὸν ἐρώμενον ποιῆσαι.
4 See p. 75.
(3) The State. It really seems that with these principles Socrates was enunciating to his contemporaries a new truth, or |166| at least recalling to their memories one long since forgotten. 1 On the other hand, in his low estimate of marriage he agreed with his fellow-countrymen. This was no doubt partly the cause of the Greek affection for boys; partly, too, it was a consequence favoured thereby. 2 Whilst assuming in women a moral disposition similar to that of men, 3 whilst even maintaining with intellectual women an instructive interchange of opinions, he still speaks of married life in terms more in keeping with the husband of Xanthippe, than with the friend of Aspasia. He allows that a clever woman is as useful for the household as a man, and he reproaches men for not caring about the education of their wives, 4 but he considers the procreation of children the end of marriage, 5 and his own conduct shows little love for domestic life. 6 His social and his personal instincts are satisfied by friendly intercourse with men; in their society he sees a means of fulfilling his peculiar mission as an educator of mankind; apart herefrom, with the peculiarity of a Greek, he considers the state, and not the family, to be the chief object of moral action.
1 Conf. Plato, Symp. 178, C.; 180, C.; 217, E.
2 Conf. Plato, Symp. 192, A.
3 See p. 145, 2.
4 Xen. Oec. 3, 10; but the question may be raised, in how far thé substance of these remarks applies to Socrates himself. Symp. 2, 9.
5 Mem. ii. 2, 4.
6 If in addition to the trait described by Plato, Phaedo, 60, A., the character of Xanthippe (which has no pretensions to great tenderness) be considered the joking character of the conversation in Xen. Symp. 2, 10, being thrown into the. scale against the passages in Plato, Apol. 34, D., the balance of probability is, that Socrates lived almost entirely in public, and almost never at home.
|167| Of the importance of the state, and the obligations towards the same, a very high notion indeed is entertained by Socrates: he who would live amongst men, he says, must live in a state, be it as a ruler or as ruled. 1 He requires, therefore, the most unconditional obedience to the laws, to such an extent that the conception of justice is reduced to that of obedience to law, 2 but he desires every competent man to take part in the administration of the state, the well-being of all individuals depending on the well-being of the community. 3 These principles were really carried into practice by him throughout life. With devoted self-sacrifice his duties as a citizen were fulfilled, even death being endured in order that he might not violate the laws. 4 Even his philosophic labours were regarded as the fulfilment of a duty to the state; 5 and in Xenophon’s Memorabilia we see him using every opportunity of impressing able people for political services, of deterring the incompetent, of awakening officials to a sense of their duties, and of giving them help in the administration of their offices. 6 He himself expresses the political character of these efforts most tellingly, by including 7 all virtues under the conception of the ruling art. 8
1 Mem. ii. 1, 12.
2 See p. 148, 1.
3 Mem. iii. 7, 9.
4 See p. 76.
5 See pp. 65, 7; 68, 2.
6 Mem. iii. 2-7.
7 βασιλικὴ τέχνην in Mem. ii. 1, 17; iv. 2, 11. Plato, Euthyd. 291, B., πολιτικὴ stands for βασιλικὴ.
8 Accordingly the story told by Cicero, Tusc. v. 37, 108, and Plut. de Exil. c. 5, p. 600, Epict. Diss. i. 9, 1 (Conf. Muson. in Stod. Floril. 40, 9), that in answer to the question, to what country he belonged, he replied that he was a citizen of the world, cannot command credit, and the question itself sounds strange as addressed to Socrates in Athens. In Plato’s Crito and Apol. 37, C., he uses language very different from the later cosmopolitan philosophers. Probably one of these attributed to him the above story.
|168| Whilst thus doing homage to the old Greek view of the state, in other respects he deviates from it widely. If knowledge is the condition of all true virtue, it is also the condition of all political virtue; all the more so in proportion as the conception of political virtue is the higher one. Hence everyone who aspires to the position of a statesman is required to prepare himself for this calling 1 by a thorough self-sifting and a course of intellectual labour; and conversely, Socrates only recognises capacity or right to political position where this condition is fulfilled. Neither the possession of power, nor the good fortune of acquiring it by lot or popular election, but only knowledge makes the ruler. 2
1 Mem. iii. 6, particularly towards the end; iv. 2, 6; Plato, Symp. 216, A. See p. 55, 6.
2 Mem. iii. 9, 10: βασιλέας δὲ καὶ ἄρχοντας οὐ τοὺς τὰ σκῆπτρα ἔχοντας ἔφη εἶναι οὐδὲ τοὺς ὑπὸ τῶν τυχόντων αἱρεθέντας οὐδὲ τοὺς κλήρῳ λαχόντας οὐδὲ τοὺς βιασαμένους οὐδὲ τοὺς ἐξαπατήσαντας, ἀλλὰ τοὺς ἐπισταμένους ἄρχειν.: in all other cases obedience is given to men of professional knowledge;—which is then illustrated by the example of physicians, pilots, and others. Similarly in Mem. iii. 5, 21; iv. 2, 2; iii. 1, 4; ibid. 4, 6: λέγω ἔγωγ᾽, ὡς, ὅτου ἄν τις προστατεύῃ, ἐὰν γιγνώσκῃ τε ὧν δεῖ καὶ ταῦτα πορίζεσθαι δύνηται, ἀγαθὸς ἂν εἴη προστάτης. Similar views are advocated by Plato with the same illustrations, Polit. 297, D., and they appear to have been generally held in the school of Socrates. Accordingly the accuser Xen. Mem. i. 2, 9, charges Socrates with having contributed to bring existing institutions into contempt: λέγων ὡς μῶρον εἴη τοὺς μὲν τῆς πόλεως ἄρχοντας ἀπὸ κυάμου καθιστάναι, κυβερνήτῃ δὲ μηδένα θέλειν χρῆσθαι κυαμευτῷ μηδὲ τέκτονι μηδ᾽ αὐλητῇ μηδ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἄλλα τοιαῦτα, and Xenophon does not deny the accuracy of this statement, but. only attempts to prove the harmlessness of such principles.
As regards the rule of |169| the majority, his judgment is, that it is impossible for a statesman desirous for right and justice to hold his own against it; hence, where it prevails, what else can an upright man do but withdraw to private life?
A political principle was here advocated, which brought Socrates not only into collision with the Athenian democracy, but with the whole political administration of Greece. In place of the equality of all, or the preference accorded to birth and wealth, he demanded an aristocracy of intelligence; in place of citizen-rulers, a race of intellectually educated officials; in place of a government of tribes and people, a government by professional adepts, which Plato, consistently developing the principles of Socrates, attempted to realise in his philosophic community. 1
1 Plato, Apol. 31, E; conf. Rep. vi. 496, C.
Socrates is here observed following in the track which the Sophists first struck out, being themselves the first to offer and to declare necessary a preparatory intellectual training for a statesman’s career. Still what he aimed at was in point of substance very different from what they aimed at. For him the aim of politics was not the power of the individual, but the well-being of the community; the object of training was not to acquire personal dexterity, but to attain truth; the means of culture was not the art of persuasion, but the science of what really is. Socrates aimed at a knowledge by means of which the state might be reformed, the |170| Sophists at one by means of which it might be governed.
The aristocratic tone of this view of the state appears to be contradicted by the ease with which Socrates rose above the social prejudices of his nation, meeting the ruling contempt for trade by the maxim that no useful activity, be it what it may, but only idleness and activity need call forth shame. Still both come from a common source. For just as Socrates will have the position of the individual in the state settled according to his achievements, so conversely he will have every action appreciated which leads to any good result. 1 Here, as elsewhere, the conception of good is his highest standard.
(4) Universal philanthropy. One consequence of the political character of Greek morality was that the problem proposed to the virtuous man was customarily summed up as doing good to friends and harm to foes. This very definition is put into the mouth of Socrates 2 by Xenophon, who likewise considers it most natural to feel pain at the success of enemies. 3
1 Mem. i. 2, 56. In keeping with this, he urges a friend (ii. 7) to employ the maids of his house in wool work, and another (ii. 8) to seek for occupation as a steward, refuting in both cases the objection, that such an occupation was unbecoming for free men Xenophon held a different view (see Oec. 4. 2, and 6, 5), and it was well known that Plato did also. Socrates speaks as the son of a poor labourer. Xenophon and Plato as men of rank and property.
2 Mem. ii. 6, 35: καὶ ὅτι ἔγνωκας ἀνδρὸς ἀρετὴν εἶναι νικᾶν τοὺς μὲν φίλους εὖ ποιοῦντα, τοὺς δ᾽ ἐχθροὺς κακῶς.
3 Mem. iii. 9, 8: φθόνον δὲ σκοπῶν, ὅ τι εἴη, λύπην μέν τινα ἐξηύρισκεν αὐτὸν ὄντα, οὔτε μέντοι τὴν ἐπὶ φίλων ἀτυχίαις οὔτε τὴν ἐπ᾽ ἐχθρῶν εὐτυχίαις γιγνομένην.
On the other hand, in one of the earliest and most historical of Plato's |171| dialogues, 1 Socrates declares it to be wrong to injure another: injury is the same thing as wrong-doing, and wrong-doing may never be permitted, not even towards one from whom wrong-doing has been suffered. The contradiction of these two accounts is hard to get over: 2 for assuming it to be granted that the Socrates of Xenophon is only speaking from a popular point of view, still the fact would remain that Xenophon cannot have been conversant with explanations such as those given by Plato. No doubt Plato’s account even in the Crito cannot be regarded as strictly conformable to truth; still it may well be questioned whether he can be credited with such a flagrant deviation from his master’s teaching 3 as this would be. That there is such a possibility cannot be denied; we must then be content to leave it in uncertainty as to which were the real principles of Socrates on this subject. 4
1 Crito 49, A. Also Rep. i. 334, B.
2 The remark of Meiners (Gesch. der Wissenschaft. ii. 456) will not pass muster that Socrates considered it allowable to do harm (bodily) to enemies, but not to injure them in respect of their true well-being, Xenophon expressly allowing κακῶς πολιεῖν while Plato as expressly forbids it.
3 See p. 153.
4 Still less are we justified in asserting—as Hildebrand appears inclined to do (Xenophont. et Arist. de Oeconomia publica Doctrina, part i. Marb. 1845)—that Socrates was in principle opposed to slavery. If he held many things which according to Greek prejudices belonged to slaves not to be unworthy of a free-man, it by no means follows that he disapproved of slavery; and the view that slavery is contrary to nature (mentioned by Aristotle, Polit. i. 3) is not attributed to Socrates as its author. Had it belonged to him, it would undoubtedly have been so mentioned. But the whole connection does not suit Socrates, to whom the distinction between ϕύσει and νόμῳ is foreign. We ought rather to think of the Cynics.
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|172| . On Nature, God, and Man
A. View of Nature
Enquiries into nature, we have seen, did not form part of the scheme of Socrates. Nevertheless, the line of his speculations led him to a peculiar view of nature and its design. One who so thoughtfully turned over the problem of human life from all sides as he did, could not leave unnoticed its countless relations to the outer world; and judging them by the standard which was his highest type—the standard of utility for man—could not but come to the conviction that the whole arrangement of nature was subservient to the well-being of the human race, in short that it was adapted to a purpose and good. 1 To his mind, however, all that is good and expedient appears of necessity to be the work of reason; for just as man cannot do what is useful without intelligence, no more is it possible for what is useful to exist without intelligence. 2
1 For Socrates, as has been already shown, understands by the good what is useful for man.
2 See Mem: i. 4, 2, in which the argument from analogy is most clearly brought out. Socrates is desirous of convincing a friend of the existence of the Gods, and hence proposes the question: Whether more intelligence is not required to produce living beings than to produce paintings like those of Polycletus and Zeuxis? Aristodemus will only allow this conditionally, and in one special case, εἴπερ γε μὴ τύχῃ τινί, ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὸ γνώμης ταῦτα γίγνεται, but he is immediately met by Socrates with the question: τῶν δὲ ἀτεκμάρτως ἐχόντων ὅτου ἕνεκα ἔστι καὶ τῶν φανερῶς ἐπ᾽ ὠφελείᾳ ὄντων πότερα τύχης καὶ πότερα γνώμης ἔργα κρίνεις; πρέπει μὲν, he is obliged to confess, τὰ ἐπ᾽ ὠφελείᾳ γιγνόμενα γνώμης εἶναι ἔργα. Compare also Plato, Phaedo, 29, A, although, according to what has been said, p. 59, we have not in this passage a strictly historical account, and Arist. M. Mor. i. 1; 1183, b, 9.
His view of nature, |173| therefore, was essentially that of a relation of means to ends, and that not a deeper relation going into the inner bearings of the several parts, and the purpose of its existence and growth inherent in every natural being. On the contrary, all things are referred as a matter of experience to the well-being of man as their highest end, and that they serve this purpose is also set forth simply as a matter of fact, and as due to a reason which, like an artificer, has endued them with this accidental reference to purpose. As in the Socratic ethics, the wisdom regulating human actions becomes a superficial reflection as to the use of particular acts, so, too, Socrates can only conceive of the wisdom which formed the world in a manner equally superficial. He shows1 what care has been taken to provide for man, in that he has light, water, fire, and air, in that not only the sun shines by day, but also the moon and the stars by night; in that the heavenly bodies serve for divisions of seasons, that the earth brings forth food and other necessaries, and that the change of seasons prevents excessive heat or cold.
1 Mem. i. 4; iv. 3
He reminds of the advantages which are derived from cattle, from oxen, from pigs, horses, and other |174| animals. To prove the wisdom of the Craftsman who made man, 1 he refers to the organism of the human body, to the structure of the organs of sense, to the erect posture of man, to the priceless dexterity of his hands. He sees a proof of a divine Providence in the natural impulse for propagation and self-preservation, in the love for children, in the fear of death. He never wearies of exalting the intellectual advantages of man, his ingenuity, his memory, his intelligence, his language, his religious disposition. He considers it incredible that a belief in God and in Providence should be naturally inborn in all men, and have maintained itself from time immemorial, clinging not to individuals only in the ripest years of their age, but to whole nations and communities, unless it were true. He appeals also to special revelations vouchsafed to men for their good, either by prophecy or portent. Unscientific, doubtless, these arguments may appear, still they became in the sequel of importance for philosophy.
1 In Mem. i. 4,12, a remark is found indicative of the popular character of these general considerations: τὸ δὲ καὶ τὰς τῶν ἀφροδισίων ἡδονὰς τοῖς μὲν ἄλλοις ζῴοις δοῦναι περιγράψαντας τοῦ ἔτους χρόνον, ἡμῖν δὲ συνεχῶς μέχρι γήρως ταῦτα παρέχειν.
Socrates “considers it incredible that a belief in God and in Providence should be naturally inborn in all men, and have maintained itself from time immemorial, clinging not to individuals only in the ripest years of their age, but to whole nations and communities, unless it were true.”
As Socrates by his moral enquiries, notwithstanding all their defects, is the founder of a scientific doctrine of morals, so by his theory of the relation of means to ends, notwithstanding its popular characterg he is the founder of that ideal view of nature which ever after reigned supreme in the natural philosophy of the Greeks, and which with all its abuses has proved itself of so much value |175| for the empirical study of nature. True, he was not himself aware that he was:engaged on natural science, having only considered the relation of means to ends in the world, in the moral interest of piety. Still from our previous remarks it follows how closely his view of nature was connected with the theory of the knowledge of conceptions, how even its defects were due to the universal imperfection of his intellectual method.
B. God and the Worship of God
(1) Popular use of the term Gods. Asking further what idea we should form to ourselves of creative reason, the reply is, that Socrates mostly speaks of Gods in a popular way as many, 1 no doubt thinking, in the first place, of the Gods of the popular faith. 2 Out of this multiplicity the idea of the oneness of God, 3 an idea not unknown to the Greek religion, rises with him into prominence, as is not infrequently met with at that time. 4 In one passage he draws a curious distinction between the creator and ruler of the universe and the rest of the Gods. 5
1 Mem. i. 1, 19; 3, 3; 4, 11; iv. 3, 3.
2 Mem. iv. 3, 16.
3 Compare Zeller’s Introduction to his Philos. d. Griechen, p. 3.
4 Mem. i. 4, 5; 7, 17: ὁ ἐξ ἀρχῆς ποιῶν ἀνθρώπους—σοφοῦ τινος δημιουργοῦ καὶ φιλοζῴου—τὸν δὲ τοῦ θεοῦ ὀφθαλμὸν,...τὴν δὲ τοῦ θεοῦ φρόνησιν.
5 Mem. iv. 3, 13. The Gods are invisible; οἵ τε γὰρ ἄλλοι ἡμῖν τἀγαθὰ διδόντες οὐδὲν τούτων εἰς τὸ ἐμφανὲς ἰόντες διδόασι, καὶ ὁ τὸν ὅλον κόσμον συντάττων τε καὶ συνέχων, ἐν ᾧ πάντα καλὰ καὶ ἀγαθά ἐστι, καὶ ἀεὶ μὲν χρωμένοις ἀτριβῆ τε καὶ ὑγιᾶ καὶ ἀγήρατα παρέχων, θᾶττον δὲ νοήματος ὑπηρετοῦντα ἀναμαρτήτως, οὗτος τὰ μέγιστα μὲν πράττων ὁρᾶται, τάδε δὲ οἰκονομῶν ἀόρατος ἡμῖν ἐστιν. Krische’s argument (Forsch. 220) to prove that this language is spurious, although on his own showing it was known to Phaedrus, Cicero, and the writer of the treatise on the world, appears inconclusive.
Have we not here that union of polytheism and |176| monotheism, so readily suggested to a Greek by his mythology, which consisted in reducing the many Gods to be the many instruments of the One Supreme God?
(2) God conceived as the Reason of the world. In as far as Socrates was led to the notion of One hare ea Supreme Being by the reasonable arrangement of the world, the idea which he formed to himself of this Being (herein resembling Heraclitus and Anaxagoras) was as the reason of the world, which he conceives of as holding the same relation to the world that the soul does to the body. 1 Herewith are most closely connected his high and pure ideas of God as a being invisible, all-wise, all-powerful, present everywhere. As the soul, without being visible, produces visible effects in the body, so does God in the world. As the soul exercises unlimited dominion over the small portion of the world which belongs to it, its individual body, so God exercises dominion over the whole world. As the soul is present in all parts of its body, so God is present throughout the Universe.
1 Mem. i. 4, 8: σὺ δὲ σαυτῷ δοκεῖς τι φρόνιμον ἔχειν, ἄλλοθι δὲ οὐδαμοῦ οὐδὲν οἴει φρόνιμον εἶναι...καὶ τάδε τὰ ὑπερμεγέθη καὶ πλῆθος ἄπειρα (the elements, or generally, the parts of the world) δι᾽ ἀφροσύνην τινά, ὡς οἴει, εὐτάκτως ἔχειν; 17: κατάμαθε ὅτι καὶ ὁ σὸς νοῦς ἐνὼν τὸ σὸν σῶμα ὅπως βούλεται μεταχειρίζεται. οἴεσθαι οὖν χρὴ καὶ τὴν ἐν τῷ παντὶ φρόνησιν τὰ πάντα, ὅπως ἂν αὐτῇ ἡδὺ ᾖ, οὕτω τίθεσθαι, καὶ μὴ τὸ σὸν μὲν ὄμμα δύνασθαι ἐπὶ πολλὰ στάδια ἐξικνεῖσθαι, τὸν δὲ τοῦ θεοῦ ὀφθαλμὸν ἀδύνατον εἶναι ἅμα πάντα ὁρᾶν, μηδὲ τὴν σὴν μὲν ψυχὴν καὶ περὶ τῶν ἐνθάδε καὶ περὶ τῶν ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ καὶ ἐν Σικελίᾳ δύνασθαι φροντίζειν, τὴν δὲ τοῦ θεοῦ φρόνησιν μὴ ἱκανὴν εἶναι ἅμα πάντων ἐπιμελεῖσθαι.
And if the soul, notwithstanding the limitations by which it is confined, can perceive what is distant, and have thoughts of the most varied kinds, surely the knowledge |177| and care of God must be able to embrace all and more. 1 Besides had not a belief in the providential care of God been already 2 taken for granted, in the argument for His existence from the relation of means to ends? Was not the best explanation of this care to be found in the analogous care which the human soul has for the body? A special proof of this providence Socrates thought to discern in oracles: 3 by them the most important things, which could not otherwise be known, are revealed to man. It must then be equally foolish to despise oracles, or to consult them in cases capable of being solved by our own reflection. 4 From this conviction followed, as a matter of course, the worship of God, prayer, sacrifices, and obedience. 5
(3) The worship of God. As to the form and manner of worship, Socrates, as we already know, 6 wished every one to follow the custom of his people. At the same time he propounds purer maxims corresponding with his own idea of God. He would not have men pray for particular, least of all for external goods, but only to ask for what is good: for who but God knows what is advantageous for man, or knows it so fully?
1 Compare the words in Mem. i. 4, 18: If you apply to the Gods for prophecy, γνώσει τὸ θεῖον ὅτι τοσοῦτον καὶ τοιοῦτόν ἐστιν ὥσθ᾽ ἅμα πάντα ὁρᾶν καὶ πάντα ἀκούειν καὶ πανταχοῦ παρεῖναι καὶ ἅμα πάντων ἐπιμελεῖσθαι and the words, Ibid. iv. 3,12: ὅτι δέ γε ἀληθῆ λέγω...ἂν μὴ ἀναμένῃς ἕως ἂν τὰς μορφὰς τῶν θεῶν ἴδῃς also i. 1, 19.
2 Mem. iv. 3; i. 4, 6 and 11.
3 Ibid. iv. 3, 12 and 16; i. 4, 14.
4 Ibid. i. 1, 6. Conf. p. 77, 3; 65, 5.
5 Compare Mem. iv. 3, 14; ii. 2, 14.
6 See p. 149, 1; 76, 7.
And, with |178| regard to sacrifices, he declared that the greatness of the sacrifice is unimportant compared with the spirit of the sacrificer, and that the more pious the man, the more acceptable will the offering be, so that it correspond with his means. 1 Abstaining on principle from theological speculations, 2 and not seeking to explore the nature of God, but to lead his fellow men to piety, he never felt the need of combining the various elements of his religious belief into one united conception, or of forming a perfectly consistent picture, and so avoiding the contradictions which that belief may easily be shown to contain. 3
C. The Dignity and Immortality of Man
A certain divine element Socrates, like others before him, thought to discern within the soul of man. 4 Perhaps with this thought is connected his belief in immediate revelations of God to the human soul, such as he imagined were vouchsafed to himself. Welcome as this theory must have been to a philosopher paying so close an attention to the moral and spiritual nature of man, it does not appear that Socrates ever attempted to support it by argument.
1 Mem. i. 3, 2; iv. 3, 17.
2 See p. 139, 2.
3 We have all the less reason for supposing with Dénis (Histoire des Théories et des Idées morales dans 1’Antiquité, Paris et Strasb. 1856, i. 79), that Socrates, like Antisthenes, spared polytheism from regard to the needs of the masses, whilst believing in only one God. This assumption would belie not only the definite and repeated assertions of Xenophon, but also Socrates’ unflinching love of truth.
4 Mem. iv. 3, 14: ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ ἀνθρώπου γε ψυχή, ἥ, εἴπερ τι καὶ ἄλλο τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων, τοῦ θείου μετέχει.
Just as little do we find in him a scientific proof of the immortality of the soul, although he was inclined to this belief partly by his high opinion of the dignity |179| of man, partly, too, on grounds of expediency. 1 Nay, rather, in Plato’s Apology, 2 at a moment when the witholding of a conviction can least be supposed, he expressed himself on this question with much doubt and caution. 3 The language, too, used by the dying Cyrus in Xenophon 4 agrees so well herewith, that we are driven to assume that Socrates considered the existence of the soul after death to be indeed probable, without, however, 5pretending to any certain knowledge on the point. It was accepted by him as an article of faith, the intellectual grounds for which belonged no doubt to those problems which surpass the powers of man. 6
1 Compare Hermann in Marburger Lectionskatalog, 1835-6, Plat. 684.
2 40, C.; after his condemnation.
3 Death is either an external sleep, or a transition to a new life, but in neither case is it an evil.
4 Cyrop. viii. 7, 10. Several reasons are first adduced in favour of immortality, but they need to be greatly strengthened to be anything like rigid proofs. (Compare particularly § 19 with Plato’s Phsdo, 105, C.) In conclusion, the possibility of the soul’s dying with the body is left an open question, but in either case death is stated to be the end of all evils.
5 He actually says in Plato, Apol. 29, A. Conf. 37, B.: death is feared as the greatest evil, whilst it may be the greatest good: ἐγὼ δέ...οὐκ εἰδὼς ἱκανῶς περὶ τῶν ἐν Ὰΐδου οὓτω καὶ οἴομαι οὐκ εἰδέναι.
6 The above description of the philosophy of Socrates rests on the exclusive authority of Xenophon, Plato, and Aristotle. What later writers say is for the most part taken from these sources, and whenever it goes beyond them, there is no guarantee for its accuracy. It is, however, just possible that some genuine utterances of Socrates may have been preserved in the writings of Aschines and others, which are omitted by our authorities. In that category place the statement of Cleanthes quoted by Clement (Strom. ii. 417, D.), and repeated by Cicero (Off. iii. 3, 11), that Socrates taught the identity of justice and happiness, cursing the man who first made a distinction between them: the statements in Cic. Off. ii. 12, 43 (taken from Xen. Mem. ii. 6, 39; conf. Cyrop. i. 6, 22); in Seneca, Epist. 28, 2; 104, 7 (travelling is of no good |180| to fools); 71, 16 (truth and virtue are identical); in Plut, Ed. Pu. c. 7, p. 4, on education (the passage in c. 9 is an inaccurate reference to Plato, Gorg. 470, D.); Cons. ad Apoll. c. 9, p. 106, that if all sufferings had to be equally divided, every one would gladly preserve his own: Conj. Prec. ce. 25, p. 140 (Diog. ii. 33; Exe. e Floril. Joan. Damase. ii. B. 98; Stob. Floril. ed. Mein. iv., 202), on the moral use of the looking glass; Ser. Num. Vind. c. 5, p. 550, deprecating anger; in Demet. Byz. quoted by Diog. ii. 21, (Gell. N. A. xiv. 6, 5), Muson. in the Exc. e Floril. Jo. Dam. ii. 13, 126, p. 221, Mein, that philosophy ought to confine itself to ὅ, τι τοι ὲν μεγάροισι, κακόν τ' ἀγαθόν τε τέτυκται; (others attribute the words to Diogenes or Aristippus) Cic. de Orat. 1. 47, 204: Socrates said that his only wish was to stimulate to virtue; where this succeeded, the rest followed of itself (a statement thoroughly agreeing with the views of the Stoic Aristo, and probably coming from him. Conf. Zeller, Stoics, Epicureans etc., p. 60; in Diog. ii. 30, blaming thesophistry of Euclid; in Diog. ii. 31 (undoubtedly from some Cynic or Stoic treatise) that intelligence is the only good, ignorance the only evil, and that riches and noble birth do more harm than good; in Diog, ii. 32, that to marry or to abstain from marriage is equally bad; in Gell. xix. 2, 7 (Athen. iv. 158; Plut. And. Poet. 4, p. 21), that most men live to eat, whilst he eats to live; in Stob. Ekl. i. 54, giving a definition of God; Ibid. ii. 356, Floril. 48, 26 (conf. Plato, Legg. i. 626, E.), that self-restraint is the best form of government; in Teles. apud Stob. Floril. 40, 8, blaming the Athenians for banishing their best, and honouring their worst men, and the apophthegmata in Valer. Max. vii. 2, Ext. 1. A large number of sayings purporting to come from Socrates are quoted by Plutarch in his treatises and by Stobaeus in his Florilegium; some, too, by Seneca. Most of them, however, are colourless, or else they aim at being epigrammatic, which is a poor substitute for being genuine. Altogether their number makes them very suspicious. Probably they were taken from a collection of proverbs which some later writer published under the name of Socratic proverbs.
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|181| IX. Xenophon and Plato, Socrates and the Sophists
A. Value of Xenophon as an authority
Looking back from the point now reached to the question raised before, as to which of his biographers we must look to for a historically accurate account of Socrates and his teaching, we must indeed admit, that no one of them is so satisfactory an authority as any original writings or verbal reports of the utterances of the great teacher would have been. (Conf. p. 98.) So much, however, is patent at once, that the personal character of Socrates, as pourtrayed by both Xenophon and Plato, is in all essential points, one and the same. Their descriptions supplement one another in some few points, contradicting each other in none. Nay more, the supplementary portions may be easily inserted in the general picture, present before the eyes of both.
(1) Xenophon’s view in harmony with that of Plato and Aristotle. Moreover the philosophy of Socrates is not in the main represented by Plato and Aristotle in a a different light from what it is by Xenophon, provided those parts only in the writings of Plato be taken into account which undoubtedly belong to |182| Socrates, and in the Socrates of Xenophon a distinction be drawn between the thought underlying his utterances and the commonplace language in which it was clothed. Even in Xenophon, Socrates expresses the opinion that true knowledge is the highest thing, and that this knowledge consists in a knowledge of conceptions only. In Xenophon, too, may be observed all the characteristics of that method by means of which Socrates strove to produce knowledge. In his pages likewise, virtue is reduced to knowledge, and this position is supported by the same arguments, and therefrom are deduced the same conclusions, as in Aristotle and Plato. In short, all the leading features of the philosophy of Socrates are preserved by Xenophon; granting as we always must that he did not understand the deeper meaning of many a saying, and therefore failed to give it the prominence it deserved. Now and then for the same reason he used a commonplace expression instead of a philosophical one; for instance, substituting for, ‘All virtue is a knowing,’ with less accuracy, ‘All virtue is knowledge.’ Nor need we feel surprise that the defects of the Socratic philosophy, its popular and prosaic way of treating things, the want of system in its method, the utilitarian basis of its moral teaching should appear more prominently in Xenophon than in Plato and Aristotle, considering the brevity with which Aristotle speaks of Socrates, and the liberty with which Plato expands the Socratic teaching both in point of substance and form. On the other hand, Xenophon’s description is confirmed partly by individual |183| admissions of Plato, 1 partly by its inward truth and conformity to that picture which we must make to ourselves of the first appearance of Socrates’ newly discovered principle. All then that can be conceded to the detractors of Xenophon is, that not fully understanding the philosophical importance of his teacher, he kept it in the background in his description, and that in so far Plato and Aristotle are most welcome as supplementary authorities. But it cannot be allowed for one moment that Xenophon has in any respect given a false account of Socrates, or that it is impossible to gather from his description the true character and importance of the doctrine of his master.
(2) Schleiermacher’s objections refuted. It may indeed be said that this estimate of Xenophon is at variance with the position which Socrates is known to have held in history. As Schleiermacher observes; 2 ‘Had Socrates done nothing but discourse on subjects beyond which the Memorabilia of Xenophon never go, albeit in finer and more brilliant language, it is hard to understand how it was, that in so many years he did not empty the marketplace and the workshop, the public walks and the schools, by the fear of his presence; how he so long satisfied an Alcibiades and a Critias, a Plato, and a Euclid; how he played the part assigned to him in the dialogues of Plato; in short, how he became the founder and type of the philosophy of Athens.’
1 See above, pp. 80; 150, 1.
2 Werke, iii. 2, 259, 287.
Fortunately in Plato himself we have a valuable testimony to the |184| accuracy of Xenophon’s description. To what does his Alcibiades appeal when anxious to disclose the divine element concealed under the Silenus-like appearance of the Socratic discourses? To what does his admirable description of the impression produced on him by Socrates go back? 1
1 Symp. 215, E.: ὅταν γὰρ ἀκούω, πολύ μοι μᾶλλον ἢ τῶν κορυβαντιώντων ἥ τε καρδία πηδᾷ καὶ δάκρυα ἐκχεῖται ὑπὸ τῶν λόγων τῶν τούτου, ὁρῶ δὲ καὶ ἄλλους παμπόλλους τὰ αὐτὰ πάσχοντας: this was not the case with other speakers, οὐδὲ τεθορύβητό μου ἡ ψυχὴ οὐδ' ἠγανάκτει ὡς ἀνδραποδωδῶς διακειμένου, (similarly Euthydemus in Xen. Mem. iv. 2, 39) ἀλλ᾽ ὑπὸ τουτουῒ τοῦ Μαρσύου πολλάκις δὴ οὕτω διετέθην ὥστε μοι δόξαι μὴ βιωτὸν εἶναι ἔχοντι ὡς ἔχω...ἀναγκάζει γάρ με ὁμολογεῖν ὅτι πολλοῦ ἐνδεὴς ὢν αὐτὸς ἔτι ἐμαυτοῦ μὲν ἀμελῶ, τὰ δ᾽ Ἀθηναίων πράττω...(conf. Mem. iv. 2; iii. 6) πέπονθα δὲ [216β] πρὸς τοῦτον μόνον ἀνθρώπων, ὃ οὐκ ἄν τις οἴοιτο ἐν ἐμοὶ ἐνεῖναι, τὸ αἰσχύνεσθαι ὁντινοῦν ...δραπετεύω οὖν αὐτὸν καὶ φεύγω, καὶ ὅταν ἴδω, αἰσχύνομαι τὰ ὡμολογημένα. [216ξ] καὶ πολλάκις μὲν ἡδέως ἂν ἴδοιμι αὐτὸν μὴ ὄντα ἐν ἀνθρώποις: εἰ δ᾽ αὖ τοῦτο γένοιτο, εὖ οἶδα ὅτι πολὺ μεῖζον ἂν ἀχθοίμην, ὥστε οὐκ ἔχω ὅτι χρήσωμαι τούτῳ τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ.. Ib. 221, D.: καὶ οἱ λόγοι αὐτοῦ ὁμοιότατοί εἰσι τοῖς σιληνοῖς τοῖς διοιγομένοις. ...διοιγομένους δὲ ἰδὼν ἄν τις καὶ ἐντὸς αὐτῶν γιγνόμενος πρῶτον μὲν νοῦν ἔχοντας ἔνδον μόνους εὑρήσει τῶν λόγων, ἔπειτα θειοτάτους καὶ πλεῖστα ἀγάλματ᾽ ἀρετῆς ἐν αὑτοῖς ἔχοντας καὶ ἐπὶ πλεῖστον τείνοντας, μᾶλλον δὲ ἐπὶ πᾶν ὅσον προσήκει σκοπεῖν τῷ μέλλοντι καλῷ κἀγαθῷ ἔσεσθαι. Alberti’s (p. 78) objections to the above use of these passages resolve themselves into this, that those ‘elements of conversation which rivet the soul,’ which are not altogether wanting in Xenophon, are more frequent and noticeable in Plato, that therefore the spirit of the Socratic philosophy comes out more clearly in Plato. Far from denying this, we grant it readily. The above remarks are not directed against the statement that Plato gives a deeper insight than Xenophon into the spirit of the Socratic teaching, but against Schleiermacher’s statement that the discourses of Socrates were essentially different in substance and subject matter from those reported by Xenophon.
What is it which to his mind has been the cause of the revolution and change in the inner life of Greece? What but the moral observations which in Xenophon form |185| the substance of the Socratic dialogues. These, and these only are dwelt upon by Socrates, speaking in Plato’s Apology 1 of his higher calling and his services to his country; it is his business to exhort others to virtue; and if he considers the attraction of his conversation to consist also in its critical attempts, 2 the reference is to a process of which many examples are to be found in Xenophon, that of convincing people of ignorance in the affairs of their calling.
B. Importance of Socrates for the Age in which He Lived
The effect produced by the discourses of Socrates need not surprise us, were they only of the kind reported by Xenophon. The investigations of Socrates as he gives them, may often appear trivial and tedious; and looking at the result with reference to the particular case, they may really be so. That the forger of armour must suit the armour to him who has to wear it: 3 that the care of the body is attended with many advantages: 4 that friends must be secured by kind acts and attention; 5 these and such-like maxims, which are often lengthily discussed by Socrates, neither contain for us, nor can they have contained for his contemporaries, anything new.
1 29, B.; 38, A.; 41, E.
2 Apol. 23, C.: πρὸς δὲ τούτοις οἱ νέοι μοι ἐπακολουθοῦντες—οἷς μάλιστα σχολή ἐστιν, οἱ τῶν πλουσιωτάτων—αὐτόματοι, χαίρουσιν ἀκούοντες ἐξεταζομένων τῶν ἀνθρώπων, καὶ αὐτοὶ πολλάκις ἐμὲ μιμοῦνται, εἶτα ἐπιχειροῦσιν ἄλλους ἐξετάζειν. Conf. 33, B. An example of such sifting is to be found in the conversation of Alcibiades with Pericles, Mem. i. 1, 40.
3 Mem. iii. 10, 9.
4 Ibid. iii. 12, 4.
5 Ibid. ii. 10, 6, 9.
The important element in these inquiries, however, does not consist in their substance, but in their method, |186| in the fact that what was formerly unexplored hypothesis and unconscious guesswork, was now arrived at by a process of thinking. In making a too minute or pedantic application of this method, Socrates would not give the same offence to his contemporaries as to us, who have not as they to learn for the first time the art of conscious thinking and emancipation from the authority of blind custom. 1
1 Comp. Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 59.
Nay, did not the enquiries of the Sophists for the most part contain very much less, which notwithstanding their empty cavils, imparted an almost electrical shock to their age, simply and solely because even in its partial application, a power, new to the Greek mind, and a new method of reflection had dawned upon it? Had therefore Socrates only dealt with those unimportant topics, upon which so many of his dialogues exclusively turn, his immediate influence, at least on his contemporaries, would still be intelligible.
These unimportant topics, however, hold a subordinate position in Xenophon’s dialogues. Even in these dialogues the main thing seems to be real investigations into the necessity of knowledge, into the nature of morality, into the conceptions of the various virtues, into moral and intellectual self-analysis; practical directions for the formation of conceptions; critical discussions obliging the speakers to consider what their notions implied, and at what their actions aimed. Can we wonder that such investigations |187| should have produced a deep impression on the contemporaries of Socrates, and an entire change in the Greek mode of thought, as the historians unanimously tell us? 1 or, that a keener vision should have anticipated behind those apparently common-place and unimportant expressions of Socrates, which his biographers unanimously record, a newly discovered world? For Plato and Aristotle it was reserved to conquer this new world, but Socrates was the first to discover it, and to point the way thereto. Plainly as we may see the shortcomings of his achievements, and the limits which his individual nature imposed on him, still enough remains to stamp him as the originator of the philosophy of conceptions, as the reformer of method, and as the first founder of a scientific doctrine of morals.
C. Relation of Socrates to the Sophists
The relation, too, of the Socratic philosophy to Sophistry will only become clear by considering the one-sided and unsatisfactory element in its method as well as its greatness and importance. This relation as is well known has, during the last thirty years, been examined in various directions. There being a general agreement previously in accepting Plato’s view, and looking on Socrates as the opponent of the Sophists, Hegel first obtained currency for the contrary opinion, that Socrates shared with the Sophists the same ground in attaching importance to the person and to introspection. 2 In a somewhat different sense, Grote 3
1 Conf. p. 80, 1 and 2; 129; 122, 2.
2 See p. 116.
3 Hist. of Greece, viii. 479, 606.
has still more recently |188| contradicted the traditional notion of the antithesis between the Socratic philosophy and Sophistry. If Sophist means what the word from its history alone can mean, a public teacher educating youth for practical life, Socrates is himself the true type of a Sophist. If on the other hand it denotes the character of certain individuals and their teaching, it is an abuse to appropriate the term Sophistry to this purpose, or to group together under one class all the different individuals who came forward as Sophists. The Sophists were not a sect or a school, but a profession, men of the most varied views, for the most part highly deserving and meritorious people, at whose views we have not the least reason to take offence. If then, Hegel and his followers attacked the common notion of the relation of Socrates to the Sophists, because Socrates, in one respect, agreed with the Sophists, Grote attacks it for the very opposite reason, because the most distinguished of the so-called Sophists are at one with Socrates.
Our previous enquiries will have shown, that both views have their justification, but that neither is altogether right. It is indeed a false view of history to contrast Socrates with the Sophists, in the same sense that true and false philosophy are contrasted, or good and evil: and in this respect it deserves notice that in Xenophon, the contrast between Socrates and the Sophists is not so great as in Plato, 1
1 Compare Xen. Mem. iv. 4, Phil. d. Griech. Part I., p. 873, besides p. 69, 1 and Zeller’s 1, 2.
nor yet in Plato nearly so great as it is drawn |189| by several modern writers. 1 Still the results of our previous enquiries 2 will not allow of our bringing Socrates, as Grote does in his valuable work, into so close a connection with men who are grouped together under the name of Sophists, and who really in their whole tone and method bear so much resemblance to him. The scepticism of a Protagoras and Gorgias cannot for a moment be placed on the same level with the Socratic philosophy of conceptions, nor the Sophistic art of controversy with the Socratic sifting of men; the maxim that man is the measure of all things, cannot be compared with the Socratic demand for action based on personal conviction, 3
1 Proofs in Protagoras and Gorgias, Theaetetus 151, D.; 162, D.; 164, D.; 165, E.; Rep. i. 354, A.; vi. 498, C.
2 Zeller, Part I. 882, 938.
3 As is done by Grote, Plato I. 305. Respecting Socrates’ explanation in Plato’s Crito 49, D., that he was convinced that under no circumstances is wrong-doing allowed, it is there observed; here we have the Protagorean dogma Homo Mensura ...which Socrates will be found combating in the Theaetetus...proclaimed by Socrates himself. How unlike the two are will however be seen at once by a moment’s reflection on Protagoras’ saying, Conf. Part I. 899. p. 259, 535; iii. 479. Grote even asserts that not the Sophists but Socrates was the chief quibbler in Greece; he was the first to destroy the beliefs of ordinary minds by his negative criticism, whereas Protagoras, Prodicus and Hippias used previous authorities as they found them leaving untouched the moral notions current. II. 410 and 428 he observes respecting Plato’s statement (Soph. 232, B.) that the Sophists talk themselves and teach others to talk of things which they do not know, which Socrates did all his life long. In so saying, he forgets that Socrates in examining into the opinions of men neither pretends to better knowledge himself nor is content with the negative purpose of perplexing others. His aim was rather to substitute permanent conceptions for unscientific notions. He forgets, also, that in the case of the Sophists, owing to their want of earnest intellectual feeling, owing to the shallowness of their method, owing to their denial of any absolute truth, together with an incapacity for positive intellectual achievements, those practical consequences were sure to result which soon enough came to view. See Part I. 920.
|190| nor can the rhetorical display of the older Sophists, the dangerous and unscientific character of their later ethics be lost sight of. As regards the Hegelian grouping of Socrates among the Sophists, this has called forth a greater opposition than it deserves. The authors of this view do not deny that the Socratic reference of truth to the person differed essentially from that of the Sophists. 1 Neither they nor their opponents can deny that the Sophists were the first to divert philosophy away from nature to morals and the human mind, that they first required a basis for practical conduct in knowledge, a sifting of existing customs and laws, that they first referred to personal conviction the settling of truth and falsehood, right and wrong. Hence the dispute with them resolves itself into the question. Shall we say that Socrates and the Sophists resembled one another, both taking personal truth as their ground, but differing in their views of personal truth? or that they differed, the nature of their treatment being a different one, whilst they agreed in making it relative? Or to put the question in another shape:—There being both points of agreement and difference between them, which of the two elements is the more important and decisive? Here for the reasons already explained, only one reply can be given, 2
1 See p. 118, 1.
2 See p. 110, and Part I. 135, 938.
that the difference between the Socratic and Sophistic philosophies |191| far exceeds their points of resemblance. The Sophists are wanting in that very thing which is the root of the philosophical greatness of Socrates—the quest of an absolutely true and universally valid knowledge, and a method for attaining it. They could question all that had previously passed for truth, but they could not strike out a new and surer road to truth. Agreeing as they do with Socrates in concerning themselves not so much with the study of nature, as with training for practical life, with them this culture has a different character, and a different importance from what it bears with Socrates. The ultimate end of their instruction is a formal dexterity, the use of which to be consistent must be left to individual caprice, since absolute truth is despaired of; whereas with Socrates, on the contrary, the acquisition of truth is the ultimate end, wherein alone the rule for the conduct of the individual is to be found. Hence in its further course, the Sophistic teaching could not fail to break away from the philosophy which preceded it, and indeed from every intellectual enquiry. Had it succeeded in gaining undisputed sway, it would have dealt the death stroke to Greek philosophy. Socrates alone bore in himself the germ of a new life for thought. He alone by his philosophical principles was qualified to be the reformer of philosophy. 1
1 Hermann even allows this in saying (Plato, i. 232) that the importance of Socrates for the history of philosophy must be gathered far more from hispersonal contrast to the Sophists than from his general resemblance to them. Sophistry differed from the wisdom of Socrates only in the want of a |192| fruit-bearing germ. But how is this admission consistent with making the second period of philosophy commence with the Sophists instead of with Socrates? On the other hand, the latest treatise on the question before us (Siebeck, Untersuchung zur Philos. d. Griech. p. 1, Ueber Socr. Verhaltniss zur Sophistik) is decidedly of the opinion here expressed; and likewise most of the later editors of the history of Greek philosophy. Strümpell, too (Gesch. d. Pralit. Phil. d.Griech. p. 26), writes to the same effect, although his view of the Sophists differs from ours in that he denies a closer connection between their scepticism and their ethics. He makes the distinctive peculiarity of Socrates to consist in the desire to reform ethics by a thorough and methodical intellectual treatment, whereas the Sophists aspiring indeed to be teachers of virtue, accommodated themselves in their instruction without independent inquiry to the tendencies and notions of the time.
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|193| X. The Tragic End of Socrates
A. Circumstances Connected with His Trial and Death
(1) The Accusation. We are now for the first time in a position to form a correct opinion of the circumstances which led to the tragic end of Socrates. The actual history of that event is well known. A whole lifetime had been spent in labours at Athens, during which Socrates had been often attacked, 1 but never judicially impeached, 2 when in the year 399 BC, 3 an accusation was preferred against him, charging him with unfaithfulness to the religion of his country, with introducing new Gods, and with exercising a harmful influence on youth. 4 The chief accuser 5 was Meletus, with whom were associated Anytus, 6
1 Compare besides the Clouds of Aristophanes, Xen. Mem. i. 2, 31; iv. 4,3; Plato, Apol. 32, C.; 22, E.
2 Plato, Apol. 17, D.
3 See p. 53, 1.
4 The indictment, according to Favorinus in Diog. ii. 40, Xen. Mem. (Begin.), Plato, Apol. 24, B., was: τάδε ἐγράψατο καὶ ἀντωμόσατο Μέλητος Μελήτου Πιτθεὺς Σωκράτει Σωφρονίσκου Ἀλωπεκῆθεν: ἀδικεῖ Σωκράτης, οὓς μὲν ἡ πόλις νομίζει θεοὺς οὐ νομίζων, ἕτερα δὲ καινὰ δαιμόνια εἰσηγούμενος: ἀδικεῖ δὲ καὶ τοὺς νέους διαφθείρων. τίμημα θάνατος. It is clearly an oversight on the part of Grote, Plato i. 283, to consider the parody of the indictment which Socrates puts into the mouth of his first accusers, as another version of the judicial γραϕή.
5 See Plato, Apol.19, B.; 24, B.; 28, A.; Euthyphro, 2, B. Max. Tyr. ix. 2, proves nothing against this, as Hermann has shown, De Socratis Accusatoribus.
6 For the way in which this name is written, instead of Μέλιτος, as was formerly the custom, see Hermann. It appears by a comparison of various passages, that the accuser of Socrates is neither the politician, as Forchhammer makes him to be, nor the opponent of Andocides, with whom others have identified him, nor yet the poet mentioned by Aristophanes (Frogs, 1302), but some younger man, perhaps the son of the poet.
one of the |194| leaders and reintroducers of the Athenian democracy, 1 and Lyco, 2 an orator otherwise unknown. The friends of Socrates appear at first to have considered his condemnation impossible; 3
1 Further particulars about him are given by Forchhammer, 79; and Hermann, 9. They are gathered from Plato, Meno, 90, A.; Schol. in Plat. Apol. 18, B.; Lysias adv. Dard. 8; adv. Agorat. 78; Isoc. adv. Callim, 23; Plut. Herod. malign. 26, 6. p. 862; Coriol. c. 14; Aristotle in Harpokrates v. δεκάζων; Schol. in Aeschin, adv. Tim. § 87; Diod. xiii. 64. He is mentioned by Xenoph. Hell. ii. 3, 42, 44, as well as by Isocrates, l. c., as a leader of the Democratic party, together with Thrasybulus.
2 For the various conjectures about him consult Hermann, p. 12. Besides the above-named persons a certain Polyeuctus, according to Favorinus in Diog. ii. 38, took part in assisting the accuser. Probably Ἄνυτος ought to be written in this passage instead of Πολύευκτος, and in the following passage Πολυκράτης instead of Ἄνυτος, Πολύευκτος being here probably a transcriber’s mistake for Πολυκράτης. See Hermann, p. 14. But the words as they stand must be incorrect. The celebrated orator Polycrates is said to have composed the speech of Anytus, Diog. l. c. according to Hermippus; Themist. Or, xxiii. 296, 6; Quintil. ii. 17, 4; Hypoth. in Isoc. Busir.; sch. Socrat. Epist. 14, p. 84 Or. Suidas, Πολυκράτης knows of two speeches; and it is proved beyond doubt by Isocr. Bus. Aelian, V. H. xi. 10, that he drew up an indictment against Socrates. But it is also clear from Favorinus, that this indictment was not used at the trial. Indeed it would appear from Favorinus that it was not written till some time after the death of Socrates. Conf. Ueberweg, Gesch. d. Phil. i. 94.
3 This is proved by the Euthyphro, allowing, as Schleiermacher, Pl. Werke, i. a, 52, and Steinhart, Plato’s Werke, ii. 191 and 199 do, that this dialogue was hastily penned after the beginning of the trial, its object being to prove that Socrates, though accused of impiety, had a deeper piety and a keener appreciation of the nature of piety, than one who had incurred ridicule by his extravagances, but had nevertheless brought himself into the odour of sanctity; a view which, notwithstanding Ueberweg’s (Unters. d. Platon. Schrift, 250) and Grote’s (Plato i. 316) objections, appears most probable. The treatment of the question is too light and satirical for the dialogue to belong to a time when the full seriousness of his position was felt.
still he was himself |195| under no misapprehension as to the danger which threatened him. 1 To get up a defence, however, went contrary to his nature. 2 Partly considering it wrong and undignified to attempt anything except by simple truth; partly finding it impossible to move out of his accustomed groove, and to wear a form of artificial oratory strange to his nature, he thought trustfully to leave the issue in the hands of God, convinced that all would turn out for the best; and in this conviction confidently familiarising himself with the thought that death would probably bring him more good than harm, and that an unjust condemnation would only save him the pressure of the weakness of age, leaving his fair name unsullied. 3
1 Comp. Xen. Mem. iv. 8, 6; Plato, Apology 19, A.; 24, A.; 28, A.; 36, A.
2 In Xen. Mem. iv. 8, 5, Socrates says that when he wished to think about his defence, the δαιμόνιον opposed him; and according to Diog. ii. 40; Cic. de Orat. i. 54; Quindtil. Inst. ii. 15, 30; xi. 1, 11; Val. Max. vi. 4, 2; Stob. Floril. 7, 56, he declined a speech which Lysias offered him. It is asserted by Plato, Apol. 17, B., that he spoke without preparation. The story in Xenophon’s Apology, 22, to the effect that some of his friends spoke for him has as little claim to truth in face of Plato’s description as that in Diog. ii. 41.
3 As to the motives of Socrates, the above seems to follow with certainty from passages in Plato, Apol. 17, B.; 19, A.; 29, A.; 30, C.; 34, C., and Xen. Mem: iv. 8, 4-10. Cousin and Grote, however, give him credit for a great deal more calculation than can be reconciled with the testimony of history, or with the rest of his character. Cousin (Guvres de Platon, i. 58), seems to think that Socrates was aware that he must perish in the conflict with his age, but he forgets that the explanation given in Plato’s Apology, 29, B., is only a conditional one, and that the passage in that treatise 37, C., was written after the judicial sentence. Similarly Volguardsen (Dämon. d. Sokr. 15), in attempting to prove from Mem. iv. 4, 4; Apol. 19, A., that Socrates had predicted his condemnation, forgets that in these passages the question is only as to probable guesses. Even Grote goes too far in asserting, in his excellent description of the trial (Hist. of Greece, viii. 654), that Socrates was hardly anxious to be acquitted, and that his speech was addressed far more to posterity than to his judges. History only warrants the belief, that with magnanimous devotion to his cause Socrates was indifferent to the result of his words, and endeavoured from the first to reconcile himself to a probably unfavourable result. It does not, however, follow that he was anxious to be condemned; nor have we reason to suppose so, since he could have wished for nothing which he considered to be wrong, and his modesty kept him uncertain as to what was the best for himself. See Plato, Apol. 19, A.; 29, A.; 30, D.; 35, D. We cannot, therefore, believe with Grote, p. 668, that Socrates had well considered his line of defence, and chosen it with a full consciousness of the result; that in his conduct before the court he was actuated only by a wish to display his personal greatness and the greatness of his mission in the most emphatic manner; and that by departing this life when at the summit of his greatness he desired to give a lesson to youth the most impressive which it was in the power of man to give. To presuppose such calculation on the part of Socrates is not only contradictory to the statement that he uttered his defence without preparation, but it appears to be opposed to the picture which we are accustomed to see of his character. As far as we can judge, his conduct does not appear to be a work of calculation, but a thing of immediate conviction, a consequence of that uprightness of character which would not allow him to go one step beyond his principles. His principles, however, did not allow him to consider results, since he could not know what result would be beneficial to him. It was his concern to speak only the truth, and to despise anything like corrupting the judges by eloquence. This may appear a narrow-minded view, but no other course of conduct would so well have corresponded with the bearing and character of Socrates; and herein consists his greatness, that he chose what was in harmony with himself in the face of extreme danger, with classic composure and unruffled brow.
|196| (2) The Defence. Such was the tone of mind-which dictated his defence. 1
1 We possess two accounts of the speech of Socrates before his judges, a shorter one in Xenophon and a longer one in Plato’s Apology. Xenophon’s Apology is certainly spurious, and with it any value attaching to the testimony of Hermogenes, to whom the compiler, imitating the Mem. iv. 8, 4, professes to be indebted for his information, islost. Touching Plato’s, the current view seems well established, that this Apology is not a mere creation of his own, but that in all substantial points it faithfully records what Socrates said;and the attempt of Georgii, in the introduction to his translation of the Apology (conf. Steinhart, Platon. Werke, ii. 235) to prove the contrary will not stand. Georgii complains that in the Socrates of Plato that peyaAnyopla is wanting,which Xenophon commends in him—a judgment with which few will agree, not even the writer of the Apology attributed to Xenophon. He also considers the sophism with which the charge of atheism was met, improbable in the mouth of Socrates, though it may just as likely have come from him as from one of his disciples. He doubts whether Socrates could have maintained a composure so perfect; although all that we know of Socrates shows unruffied calm as a main trait in his character. He sees in the prominent features of that character a diplomatic calculation, which others will look for in vain. He considers it incredible that Socrates should have begun with a studied quotation from the Clouds of Aristophanes, aiming at nothing else than the refutation of prejudices, which lasted undeniably (according to the testimony of Xenophon, Mem. i. 1, 11; Oec. 12, 3; Symp. 6, 6) till after his own death, and perhaps contributed much to his condemnation. He misses, with Steinhart in Plato, many things which Socrates might have said in his defence, and did actually say according to the Apology of Xenophon. But to this statement no importance can be attached, and it is probable that in an unprepared speech Socrates omitted much which might have told in his favour. He can hardly be convinced that Socrates cross-questioned Miletus so searchingly as Plato describes; but this passage agrees with the usual character of the discourse of Socrates, and the sophism by which Socrates proved that he did not corrupt youth is quite his own. See p. 141. That Socrates should have met the charge of atheism by quibbles, instead of appealing to the fact of his reverence for the Gods of the state, he can only understand, by supposing that we have here an expression of Plato’s religious views: although Plato would have had no reason for suppressing the fact, supposing Socrates had really made such an appeal: he even describes the devotion of his master to the Gods of his country, and is himself anxious to continue that service. Touching the sophisms, even Aristotle, Rhet. ii. 23; iii. 18; 1398, a, 15; 1419, a, 8, has no fault to find. The same may be said in reply to most of the reasoning of Georgii. On the contrary, the difference in style between the Apology and Plato’s usual writings, seems to prove that this Apology was not drawn up with his usual artistic freedom, and the notion of Georgii referring it to the same time as the Phaedo appears altogether inconceivable considering the great difference between the two in regard to their philosophical contents and their artistic form. It certainly was not Plato's intention to record literally the words of Socrates, and we may be satisfied with comparing his Apology withthe speeches in Thucydides, as Steinhart does, bearing in mind what Thucydides, i. 22, says of himself,—that he had kept as close as possible to the sense and substance of what was said—and applying it equally to Plato. Conf. Ueberweg, Unters. d. Plat. Schr. 237.
The language is not that of a criminal, |197| wishing to save his life, but that of an impartial arbiter, who would dispel erroneous notions by a simple |198| setting forth of the truth, or of a patriot warning against wrong-doing and overhaste. He seeks to convince the accuser of his ignorance, to refute the accusation by criticism. At the same time dignity and principle are never so far forgotten as to address the judges in terms of entreaty. Their sentence is not feared, whatever it may be. He stands in the service of God, and is determined to keep his post in the face of every danger. No commands shall make him faithless to his higher calling, or prevent him from obeying God rather than the Athenians.
(3) The Sentence. The result of his speech was what might have have been expected. The majority of the judges would most unmistakeably have been disposed to pronounce him innocent, 1 had not the proud bearing of the accused brought him into collision with the members of a popular tribunal, accustomed to a very different deportment from the most eminent statesmen. 2
1 Xen. Mem. iv. 4. 4.
2 Let the attitude of Pericles be remembered on the occasion of the accusation of Aspasia, and that depicted by Plato in the Apology, 34, C. Indeed it is a well-known fact that judging was a special hobby of the Athenian people (conf. Aristophanes in the Wasps, Clouds, 207), and that it watched with peculiar jealousy this attribute of its sovereignty. How Volquardsen, Dämon. d. Sokr. 15, can conclude from the above words that Hegel’s judgment respecting Socrates’ rebellion against the people’s power is shared here, is inconceivable.
Many who would otherwise have been on his |199| side were set against him, and by a small majority 1
the sentence of Guilty was pronounced. 2
1 According to Plato, Apol. 86, A., he would have been acquitted if 3, or as another reading has it, if 30 of his judges had been of a different mind. But how can this be reconciled with the statement of Diog. ii. 41: κατεδικάοθη διακοσίαις ὀγδοήκοντα μιᾷ πλείοσι ψήφοις τῶν ἀπολυουσῶν? Hither the text here must be corrupt, or a true statement of Diogenes must have been strangely perverted. Which is really the case it is difficult to say. It is generally believed that the whole number of judges who condemned him was 281. But since the Heliaea always consisted of so many hundreds, most probably with the addition of one deciding voice (400, 500, 600, or 401, 501, 601), on this hypothesis no proportion of votes can be made out which is compatible with Plato’s assertion, whichever reading is adopted. We should have then to suppose with Böckh, in Süvern on Aristoph. Clouds, 87, that a number of the judges had abstained from voting, a course which may be possible. Out of 600 Heliasts, 281 may have voted against and 275 or 276 for him. It is, however, possible, as Böckh suggests, that in Diogenes, 251 may have originally stood instead of 281. In this case there might have been 251 against and 245 or 246 for the accused, making together nearly 500; and some few, supposing the board to have been complete at first, may have absented themselves during the proceedings, or have refrained from voting. Or, if the reading τριάκοντα, which has many of the best MSS. in its favour, is established in Plato, we may suppose that the original text in Diogenes was as follows: κατεδικάοθη διακοσίαις ὀγδοήκοντα μιᾷ πλείοσι ψήφοις τῶν ἀπολυουσῶν. We should then have 280 against 220, together 500, and if 30 more had declared for the accused, he would have been acquitted, the votes being equal.
2 This course of events is not only in itself probable, taking into account the character of the speech of Socrates and the nature of the circumstances, but Xenophon (Mem. iv. 4, 4) distinctly asserts that he would certainly have been acquitted if he had in any way condescended to the usual attitude of deference to his judges. See also Plato, Apol. 38, D.
According |200| to the Athenian mode of procedure, the next thing was to treat of the measure of the penalty. Socrates, however, spoke out with undaunted courage: were he to move for what he had deserved, he could only move for a public entertainment in the Prytaneum. He repeated the assurance that he could not on any account renounce his previous course of life. At length, yielding to the entreaties of his friends, he was willing to consent to a fine of thirty mine, because he could pay this without owning himself to be guilty. 1 It may be readily understood that to the majority of the judges such language in the accused could only appear in the light of incorrigible obstinacy and contempt for the judicial office; 2 hence the penalty claimed by the accusers was awarded—a sentence of death. 3
(4) His death. The sentence was received by Socrates with a composure corresponding with his previous conduct. He persisted in not in any way repenting of his conduct, frequently expressing before the judges his conviction, that for him death would be no misfortune. 4
1 The above is stated on the authority of Plato’s Apology, in opposition to which the less accurate assertion of Xenophon, that he rejected any pecuniary composition, and that of Diog. ii. 41, cannot be allowed to be of any weight.
2 How distinctly Socrates foresaw this effect of his conduct is unknown. It may have appeared probable to him; but he may also have anticipated all the more readily a contrary effect, if he thought such conduct imperative. Nietzsche’s idea (Sokrates Bas. 1871, p. 17) that Socrates, with full consciousness, carried through his condemnation to death, appears untenable for the same reasons as the above.
3 According to Diog. ii. 42, it was carried by eighty more votes than his condemnation.
4 Plato, Apol. 38, C.
The execution of the sentence being delayed |201| pending the return of the sacred-ship from Delos, 1 he continued in prison thirty days, holding his accustomed intercourse with his friends, and retaining during the whole period his unclouded brightness of disposition. 2 Flight from prison, for which his friends had made every preparation, was scorned as wrong and undignified. 3 His last day was spent in quiet intellectual conversation, and when the evening came the hemlock draught was drunk with a strength of mind so unshaken, and a resignation so entire, that a feeling of wonder and admiration overcame the feeling of grief, even in his nearest relatives. 4 Among the Athenians, too, no long time after his death, discontent with the troublesome preacher of morals is said to have given way before remorse, in consequence of which his accusers were visited with severe penalties; 5
1 Mem. iv. 8, 2; Plato, Phaedo, 58, A.
2 Phaedo, 59, D.; Mem. l. c.
3 See p. 77, 1. According to Plato, Crito urged him to flight. The Epicurean Idomeneus, who says it was Aeschines (Diog. ii. 60; iii. 36) is not a trustworthy authority.
4 Compare the Phaedo, the account in which appears to be true in the main. See 58, E.; 116, A.; Xen, Mem. iv. 8, 2. Whether the statements in Xen. Apol. 28; Diog. ii. 35; Aelian, V. H. i. 16, are historical, is a moot point. Those in Stob. Floril. 5, 67, are certainly exaggerations.
5 Diodor, xiv. 37, says that the people repented of having put Socrates to death, and attacked his accusers, putting them to death without a judicial sentence. Suidas makes Μέλητος (Meletus) die by stoning. Plut. de Invid. c. 6, p. 538, says that the slanderous accusers of Socrates became so hated at Athens that the citizens would not light their fires, or answer their questions, or bathe in the same water with them, and that at last they were driven in despair to hang themselves. Diog. ii. 43, conf. vi. 9, says that the Athenians soon after, overcome with compunction, condemned Meletus to death, banished the other accusers, and erected a brazen statue to Socrates, and that Anytus was forbidden to set foot in their city. Themist. Or. xx. 239, says: The Athenians soon repented of this deed; Meletus was punished, Anytus fled, and was stoned at Heraclea, where his grave may still be seen. Tertullian, Apologet. 14, states that the Athenians punished the accusers of Socrates, and erected to him a golden statue in a temple. Aug. De Civ. Dei, viii. 3, reports that one of the accusers was slain by the people and the other banished for life.
these statements, however, |202| are not to be trusted, and appear on the whole improbable. 1
1 This view, already expressed by Forchammer (1. c. 66) and Grote, viii. 683, appears to be the correct one notwithstanding Hermann’s (1.c. 8, 11) arguments to the contrary. For thongh it is possible that political or personal opponents of Anytus and his fellow-accusers may have turned against them their action against Socrates, and so procured their condemnation, yet (1) the authorities are by no means so ancient or so unimpeachable that we can depend upon them. (2) They contradict one another in all their details, not to mention Diogenes’ anachronism respecting Lysippus. And (3) the main point is, that neither Plato, nor Xenophon, nor the writer of Xenophon’s Apology ever mention this occurrence, which they could not have failed to regard with great satisfaction. On the contrary, five years after the death of Socrates Xenophon thought it necessary to defend him against the attacks of his accusers, while Aeschines appealed to the sentence on Socrates without dreading the very obvious answer, that his accusers had met with their deserts. That Isocrates is referring to this occurrence rather than to any other (περὶ ὰντιδός. 19) is not established, nor need the passage contain a reference to any event in particular. And lastly, nothing can be made of the apocryphal story coming from some editor of Isocrates, to the effect that the Athenians, ashamed of having put Socrates to death, forbad any public mention of him, and that when Euripides (who died seven years before Socrates) alluded to him in the Palamedes, all the audience burst into tears. It is only lost labour to suggest that these scenes took place at some later time, when the play was performed.
B. Causes Which Led to His Sentence
(1) The Sophists innocent. The circumstances which brought about the death of Socrates are among the clearest facts of history. Nevertheless the greatest difference of opinion prevails as to the causes which led thereto and the justice of his condemnation. In former times it was |203| thought quite natural to refer it to an accidental outburst of passion. Were Socrates the colourless ideal of virtue he was represented to be by those lacking a deeper insight into his position in history, it would indeed be inconceivable that any vested interests could have been sufficiently injured by him to warrant a serious attack. If then, he was nevertheless accused and condemned, what else can have been the cause but the lowest of motives—personal hatred? Now who can have had so much reason for hatred as the Sophists, whose movements Socrates was so effective in thwarting, and who were otherwise supposed to be capable of anycrime? Accordingly it must have been at their instigation that Anytus and Meletus induced Aristophanes to write his play of the Clouds, and afterwards themselves brought Socrates to trial.
This was the general view of the learned in former times. 1 Nevertheless its erroneousness was already pointed out by Fréret. 2 He proved that Meletus was a child when the Clouds was acted, and that at a much later period Anytus was on good terms with Socrates; that neither Anytus can have had anything to do with the Sophists—Plato always representing him as their inveterate enemy and despiser 3 —nor Meletus with Aristophanes; 4
1 Reference to Brucker, i. 549, in preference to any others.
2 In the admirable treatise: Observations sur les Causes et sur quelques Circonstances dela Condamnation de Socrate, in the Mém. de l’Académie des Inscript. i. 47, 6, 209.
3 Meno, 92, A.
4 Aristophanes often amuses himself at the expense of the poet Meletus, but, as has been remarked, this Meletus was probably an older man than the accuser of Socrates. See Hermann, De Socr. Accus. 5.
and he showed, that no writer |204| of credit knows anything of the part taken by the Sophists, in the accusation of Socrates. 1 Besides, the Sophists, who had little or no political influence in Athens, 2 could never have procured the condemnation of Socrates. Least of all, would they have preferred against him charges which immediately recoiled on their own heads. 3 These arguments of Fréret’s, after long passing unnoticed, 4 have latterly met with general reception. 5 Opinions are otherwise still much divided, and it. is an open question whether the condemnation of Socrates was a work of private revenge, or whether it resulted from more general motives; if the latter, whether these motives were political, or moral, or religious; and lastly, whether the sentence was, according to the popular view, a crying wrong, or whether it may admit of a partial justification. 6
1 Aelian (V. H. ii. 13), the chief authority for the previous hypothesis, knows nothing about a suborning of Anytus by the Sophists.
2 The political career of Damon, who according to the use of the Greek language can be called a Sophist, establishes nothing to the contrary.
3 Protagoras had been indicted for atheism before Socrates, and on the same plea Socrates was attacked by Aristophanes, who never spared any partizans of sophistry.
4 The treatise of Fréret was written as early as 1736, but not published till 1809, when it appeared together with several other of his writings. See Mém. de l’Acad. i. 47. 6, 1. It was therefore unknown to the German writers of the last century, who for the most part follow the old view; for instance, Weiners, Gesch. d. Wissenschaft, ii. 476; Tiedemann, Geist d. spek. Phil. ii. 21. Others, such as Buhle, Gesch. d. Phil. i. 372; Tenneman, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 40, confine themselves to stating generally, that Socrates made many enemies by his zeal for morality, without mentioning the Sophists.
5 There are a few exceptions, such as Heinsius, p. 26.
6 Forchhammer: Die Athener und Socrates, die Gesetzlichen und der Revolutionir.
In one quarter even the length |205| has been reached of asserting with Cato, 1 that of all sentences ever passed, this was the most strictly legal.
(2) Personal animosity only partially the cause. (a) Anytus may have borne him a grudge. Among these views the one lying nearest to hand, is that of some older writers, who attribute the execution of Socrates to personal animosity; always giving up the unfounded idea that the Sophists were in any way connected therewith. 2 A great deal may be said in favour of this aspect of the case. In Plato, 3 Socrates expressly declares that he is not the victim of Anytus or Meletus, but of the ill-will which he incurred by his criticism of men. Even Anytus, it is however said, owed him a personal grudge. Plato hints 4 at his being aggrieved with the judgments passed by Socrates on Athenian statesmen, and, according to Xenophon’s Apology, 5
1 Plut. Cato, c. 23.
2 This is found in Fries, Gesch. d. Phil. i. 249, who speaks of the ‘hatred and envy of a great portion of the people,’ as the motives which brought on the trial. Sigwart, Gesch. d. Phil. i. 89, gives prominence to this motive, and Brandis, Gr. Rom. Phil. ii. a. 26, who distinguishes two kinds of opponents to Socrates, those who considered his philosophy incompatible with ancient discipline and morality, and those who could not endure his moral earnestness, attributing the accusation to the latter. Grote, viii. 637, inclines to the same view. He proves how unpopular Socrates must have made himself by his sifting of men. He remarks that Athens was the only place where it would have been possible to carry it on so long, and that it is by no means a matter for wonder, that Socrates was accused and condemned, but only that this did not happen sooner. If he had been tolerated so long, there must have been special reasons, however, for the accusation; and these he is inclined to find partly in his relations to.Critias and Alcibiades, and partly in the hatred of Anytus.
3 Apol. 28, A.; 22, E.; 23, C.
4 Meno, 94; in reference to which Diog. ii. 38, says of Anytus: οὗτος γὰρ οὐ φέρων τὸν ὑπὸ Σωκράτους χλευασμὸν.
5 Compare with this Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 92; Grote. Hist. of Greece, viii. 641.
took it amiss |206| that Socrates urged him to give his competent son a higher training than that of a dealer in leather, thereby encouraging in the young man discontent with his trade. 1 Anytus is said to have first moved Aristophanes to his comedy, and afterwards in common with Meletus to have brought against him the formal accusation. 2 That such motives came into play in the attack on Socrates, and contributed in no small degree to the success of this attack is antecedently probable. 3 To convince men of their ignorance is the most thankless task you can choose. Anyone who can persevere in it for a lifetime so regardless of consequences as Socrates did, must make many enemies; dangerous enemies too, if he takes for his mark men of distinguished position or talents.
1 Later writers give more details. According to Plu. Alc. c. 4; Amator. 17, 27, p. 762; and Satyrus in Atheneus, xii. 534, e, Anytus was a lover of Alcibiades, but was rejected by him, whilst Alcibiades showed every attention to Socrates, and hence the enmity of Anytus to Socrates. Such an improbable story ought not to have deceived Luzac (De Socr. Cive, 133); especially since Xenophon and Plato would never have omitted in silence such a reason for the accusation.
2 Aelian, V. H. ii. 13. Diog. l. c.
3 Compare Grote, 1. c. 638.
(b) But there must have been other causes at work to lead to his condemnation. Still personal animosity cannot have been the sole cause of his condemnation. Nor are Plato’s statements binding upon us. Indeed the more Socrates and his pupils became convinced of the justice of his cause, the less were they able to discover any grounds in fact for the accusation. The one wish of Socrates being to will and to do what was best, what reason could anyone possibly have had for |207| opposing him, except wounded pride? The narrative of Xenophon’s Apology would at most only explain the hatred of Anytus; it would not account for the widely spread prejudice against Socrates. It is a question whether it is true at all; and whether, granting its truth, this personal injury was the only cause which arrayed Anytus as accuser against him. 1 Lastly, allowing, as was undoubtedly the case, that Socrates made enemies of many influential people, is it not strange that their personal animosity should only have attained its object after the re-establishment of order in Athens? In the most unsettled and corrupt times no serious persecution had been set on foot against him. Neither at the time of the mutilation of the Hermes, had his relations with Alcibiades; nor after the battle of Arginusae, 2 had the incensed state of popular feeling been turned against him. Plato, too, says 3 that what told against Socrates at the trial, was the general conviction that his teaching was of a dangerous character; and he states that as matters then stood, it was impossible for any one to speak the truth in political matters
1 This is just possible. That the character of Anytus was not unimpeachable we gather from the story (Aristot. in Harpocration Bexd{wy; Diodor. xiii. 64; Plut. Coriol. 14), that when he was first charged with treason he corrupted the judges. On the other hand Isocr. (in Callim. 23) praises him for being together with Thrasybulus faithful to the treaties, and not abusing his political power to make amends for his losses during the oligarchical government.
2 The astonishment expressed by Tenneman at this is natural from his point of view. Only his solution of the difficulty is hardly satisfactory.
3 Apol. 18, B; 19, B; 23, D.
without being persecuted as a vain babbler and corrupter |208| of youth. 1 On this point the testimony of writers so opposite as Xenophon and Aristophanes proves that the prejudice against Socrates was not merely a passing prejudice, at least not in Athens, but that it lasted a whole lifetime, not confined only to the masses, but shared also by men of high importance and influence in the state. Very deeply, indeed, must the feeling against Socrates have been rooted in Athens, if Xenophon found it necessary six years after his death to defend him against the charges on which the indictment was framed.
With regard to Aristophanes, it was an obvious blot in his plays to allow here and there such a prominence to political motives as to forget the claims of art, and for a comedian, who in his mad way holds up to ridicule all authorities divine and human, to clothe himself with the tragic seriousness of a political prophet. 2 Yet it is no less an error to lose sight of the grave vein which underlies the comic license of his plays; and to mistake his occasional pathos for thoughtless play. Were it only this, the hollowness of the sentiment would soon show itself in artistic defects.
1 Polit. 299, B; Rep. vi. 488, 496, C; Apol. 32, E; Gorg. 473, E; 521, D.
2 Rötscher’s spirited description suffers from this onesidedness, and even Hegel, in his passage on the fate of Socrates, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 82, is not quite free from it, although both of them justly recognise (Hegel, Phänomeno 1. 660; Aesthetik, 537, 562; Rötscher, p. 365), that there is an element subversive of Greek life, quite as much in the comedies of Aristophanes, as in the state of things of which he complains.
Instead of this, a sincerity of patriotic sentiment may be observed in Aristophanes, |209| not only in the unsullied beauty of many individual utterances; 1 but the same patriotic interest sounds through all his plays, in some of the earlier ones even disturbing the purity of the poetic tone, 2 but proving all the more conclusively, how near the love of his country lay to his heart.
This interest only could have brought him to give to his comedies that political turn, by means of which, as he justly takes credit to himself, 3 comedy gained a far higher ground than had been allowed to it by his predecessors. At the same time it must be granted that Aristophanes is as much deficient as others in the morality and the faith of an earlier age, 4 and that it was preposterous to demand the olden time back, men and circumstances having so thoroughly changed. Only it does not follow herefrom that he was not sincere in this demand. His was rather one of those cases so frequently met with in history, in which a man attacks a principle in others to which he has himself fallen a victim, without owning it to himself. Aristophanes combats innovations in morals, politics, religion, and art. Being, however, in his inmost soul the offspring of his age, he can only combat them with the weapons and in the spirit of this age.
1 See p. 29.
2 Compare Schnitzer, translation of the Clouds, p. 24, and the passages quoted by him from Welcker, Süvern and Rötscher.
3 Peace, 732; Wasps, 1022; Clouds, 537.
4 Compare Droysen, Aristoph. Werke, 2 Aufl. i. 174, which seems to go too far.
With the thorough dislike of the narrow practical man unable to give a |210| thought to anything beyond immediate needs, he proscribes every attempt to analyse moral and political motives, or to test their reasonableness or the reverse; whilst as a poet he thinks nothing of trifling with truth and good manners, provided the desired end is reached. He thus becomes entangled in the inconsistency of demanding back, and yet by one and the same act destroying, the old morality. That he committed this inconsistency cannot be denied. And what a proof of shortsightedness it was to attempt to charm back a form of culture which had been irretrievably lost! That he was conscious of this inconsistency cannot be believed. Hardly would a thoughtless scoffer—which is what some would make of him—have ventured upon the dangerous path of attacking Cleon. Hardly would Plato have brought him into the society of Socrates in the Symposium, putting into his mouth a speech full of spirited humour, had he seen in him only a despicable character. If, however, the attack upon Socrates is seriously meant, and Aristophanes really thought to discern in him a Sophist dangerous alike to religion and morality—with which character he clothes him in the Clouds—then the charges preferred at the trial were not a mere pretence, and something more than personal motives led to the condemnation of Socrates.
(3) Political party-feeling only partially involved. Do we ask further what those motives were? All that is known of the trial and the personal character of the accusers only leaves us a choice between two alternatives: either the attack on Socrates was |211| directed against his political creed 1 in particular, or more generally against’ his whole mode of thought and teaching in respect to morals, religion, and politics. 2 Both alternatives are somewhat alike, still they are not so alike that we can avoid distinguishing them.
A great deal may be said in favour of the view, that the attack on Socrates was in the first place set on foot in the interest of the democratic party. Amongst the accusers, Anytus is known as one of the leading democrats of that time. 3 The judges, too, are described as men, who had been banished and had returned with Thrasybulus. 4 We know, moreover, that one of the charges preferred against Socrates was, that he had educated Critias, the most unscrupulous and the most hated of the oligarchical party; 5 Aschines 6 tells the Athenians plainly: You have put to death the Sophist Socrates, because he was the teacher of Critias.
1 This is the view of Fréret, l. c. p. 283, of Dresig in the dissertation De Socrate juste damnato (Lips. 1738), of Süvern (notes to Clouds, p. 86) of Ritter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 30, and of Forchhammer (Die Athener und Socrates, p. 39). More indefinite is Hermann, Plat. i. 35, and Wiggers, Socr. p. 123.
2 Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 81; Rötscher, p. 256, 268, with special reference to the Clouds of Aristophanes; Henning, Princ. der Ethik. p. 44. Compare, Baur, Socrates und Christus, Tüb. Zeitschrift, 1837, 3 128-144.
3 See p. 194, 1.
4 Plato, Apol. 21, A.
5 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 12; Plato Apol. 33, A.
6 Adv. Tim. 173. No great importance can be attached to this authority, as the context shows. Aeschines is talking as an orator, not as an historian.
Others, too, are found among the friends and pupils of Socrates, who must have been hated by the democrats because of their |212| aristocratical sympathies. Such were Charmides, 1 and Xenophon, who was banished from Athens 2 about the time of the trial of Socrates, perhaps even in connection therewith, because of his intimacy with Sparta and the Spartans’ friend, Cyrus the younger. Lastly, one of the formal indictments is referred to as charging Socrates with speaking disparagingly of the democratic form of election by lot, 3 and with teaching his audience to treat the poor with insolence, 4 by so frequently quoting the words—
Each prince of name or chief in arms approved,
He fired with praise, or with persuasion moved....
But if a clamorous vile plebeian rose,
Him with reproof he check’d, or tam’d with blows. 5
1 Charmides, the uncle of Plato, one of the thirty, was, according to Xen. Hell. ii. 4, 19, one of the ten commanders at the Peiraeus, and fell on the same day with Critias in conflict with the exiled Athenians.
2 Forchhammer, p. 84: he also mentions Theramenes, the supporter of the thirty tyrants, who may have been a pupil of Socrates without, as Forchhammer will have it, adopting the political opinions of his But Diodor., xiv. 5, from whom the story comes, is a very uncertain authority. For Diodorus combines with it the very improbable story that Socrates tried to rescue Theramenes from the clutches of the thirty, and could only be dissuaded from this audacious attempt by many entreaties. Neither Xenophon nor Plato mention Theramenes among the pupils of Socrates. Neither of them mentions an intervention of Socrates on his behalf, as Plato, Apol. 32, C, does in another case. In the accusation brought against the victors at Arginusae, it was Socrates who espoused their cause, and Theramenes who by his intrigues brought about their condemnation. Pseudoplut. Vit. Decrhet. iv. 3, tells a similar and more credible story of Socrates. Probably it was first told of him and then transferred to Socrates.
3 Mem. i. 2, 9.
4 Ibid. i. 2, 58.
5 Iliad. ii. 188. Forchhammer, p. 52, detects a great deal more in these verses. He thinks that Socrates was here expressing his conviction of ‘the necessity of an oligarchical constitution, and was using the words of Hesiod ἔργον δ' οὐδὲν ὅνειδος (which the accusers also took advantage of), as a plea for not delaying, but for striking when the time for action came. The real importance of the quotation from Homer, he contends, must not be sought in the verses quoted by Xenophon, but in those omitted by him (Il. ii. 192-197, 203-205): the charge was not brought against Socrates for spreading anti-democratic sentiments, which Xenophon alone mentions, but for promoting the establishment of an oligarchical form of government. This is, however, the very opposite of historical criticism. If Forchhammer relies upon the statements of Xenophon, how can he at the same time assert that they are false in most important points? And if on the other hand he wishes to strengthen these statements, how can he use them to uphold the view, by which he condemns them? He has, however, detected oligarchical tendencies elsewhere, where no traces of them exist. For instance, he enumerates not only Critias but Alcibiades among the anti-democratical pupils of Socrates; and he speaks of the political activity of Socrates after the battle of Arginusae by remarking that the oligarchs elected on the council board their brethren in political sentiments. It is true the levity of Alcibiades made him dangerous to the democratic party, but in his own time he never passed for an oligarch, but for a democrat. See Xen. Mem. i. 2, 12; Thuc. viii. 63, 48 and 68. With regard to the condemnation of the victors of Arginusae, Athens had then not only partially, as Forchhammer says, but altogether shaken off the oligarchical constitution of Pisander. This may be gathered from Fréret’s remark, l. c. p. 243, from the account of the trial (Xen. Hell. i. 7), as well as from the distinct statement of Plato (Apol. 32, C: καὶ ταῦτα μὲν ἦν ἔτι δημοκρατουμένης τῆς πόλεως); not to mention the fact that these generals were decided democrats, and hence could not have been elected by oligarchs.
|213| Taking all these facts into account, there can be no doubt that, in the trial of Socrates, the interests of the democratic party did come into play.
(4) The teaching of Socrates generally believed to be dangerous. (a) The charges were not directed against the poliltical element in his teaching only. Still these motives were not all. The indictment by no means places the anti-republican sentiments of Socrates in the foreground. What is brought against him is his rejection of the Gods of his country, and his corruption of youth.1
1 Plato, Apology 24, B, p. 193, 4.
Those Gods were, however, |214| not only the Gods of the republican party, but the Gods of Athens. If in some few instances, as in the trial for the mutilation of the Hermae, insult to the Gods was brought into connection with attacks on a republican constitution, the connection was neither a necessary one, nor was it named in the indictment of Socrates. Further, as regards the corruption of youth, 1 this charge was certainly supported by the plea that Socrates instilled into young men contempt for republican forms of government and aristocratic insolence, and also that he was the teacher of Critias. But the training of Alcibiades was also laid to his charge, who had injured the city by republican rather than by aristocratic opinions. A further count was, that he taught sons to despise their fathers, 2 and said that no wrong or base action need be shunned if only it be of advantage. 3
(b) But extended to its moral and religious bearings. Herefrom it would appear that not so much the political character in the narrower sense of the term, as the moral and religious character of his teaching was the subject of attack. The latter aspects exclusively draw down the wrath of Aristophanes. After all the ancient and modern discussions as to the scope of the Clouds, 4 it may be taken for established that the Socrates of this comedy is not only a representative—drawn with a poet’s license—
1 Mem. i. 2, 9.
2 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 49; Apol. 20 and 29.
3 Mem. i. 2, 56.
4 Rötscher (Aristophanes, p. 272) gives a review of previous opinions. Since then, Droysen and Schnitzer, Forchhammer, p. 25, and Köchly, Akad. Vortr. 1, have further gone into the question.
of a mode of thought |215| which Aristophanes knew to be foreign to the real man; 1 nor yet was only a general attack thereby intended on the fondness for metaphysical subtleties, and the absurdity of sophistry and useless learning; but the play was distinctly aimed at the philosophic tendency of Socrates. Just as little can it be supposed, after what has been said, that this attack proceeded only from malice or from personal animosity; Plato's description in the Symposium puts this out of the question. Reisig’s 2 and Wolf’s 3 opinions are also untenable. Reisig distributes the traits which Aristophanes assigns to Socrates, between himself and the whole body of his pupils, Euripides 4 in particular; still the spectators could not do otherwise than refer them all to Socrates; hence Aristophanes must have intended this reference. Wolf supposes that the portrait drawn in the Clouds is of Socrates in his younger years, when he was given to natural philosophy. But the very same charges were repeated against him eighteen years later in the Frogs; 5 and we gather from Plato’s Apology 6 that the current view of Socrates and his teaching up to the time of his death agreed substantially with that of Aristophanes;
1 As is assumed by G. Hermann, Pref. ad Nubes, p. 33, 11, and by others. Compare, on the other hand, Rötscher, p. 294, 278, 307, 311; Süvern, p. 3.
2 Pref. ad Nubes; Rhein. Mus, ii. (1828) i. K. 8. 191.
3 In his translation of the Clouds, see Rötscher, 297. Similarly Van Heusde, Characterismi, p. 19, 24. Conf. Wiggers’ Sokr. p. 20.
4 Who was 10 years older than Socrates, and certainly not his pupil, although possibly an acquaintance.
5 Frogs, 1491.
6 See p. 18.
not to mention the |216| fact that Socrates probably never was a lover of natural philosophy, and that in the Clouds he is attacked as a Sophist 1 rather than as a natural philosopher.
(c) This is proved by the part assigned to Socrates in the Clouds. Aristophanes must, then, really have thought to discern in the Socrates whom the history of philosophy sketches features deserving his attack. Saying this, however, is, of course, not saying that he did not caricature the historical figure, consciously attributing to it many really foreign features. For all that, we may suppose that the main features in his picture agreed with the idea he had formed to himself of Socrates, and also with common opinion. Süvern, therefore, in supposing 2 that the Socrates of the Clouds is not meant for an individual, but for a symbol, and that the poet’s attack was not aimed at Socrates, but at the sophistic and rhetorical school in general, 3 cannot be right. Far from it, Socrates was made to be the champion of sophistry, because in Aristophanes’ mind he really was that; the poet believed that, taken in his public capacity, he was really the dangerous innovator he represents him to be. Not a single line of his picture has an exclusively political colour. Independently of some things which are obviously not seriously meant, 4
1 Clouds, 98.
2 In the treatise already referred to, pp. 19, 26, 30, 55.
3 Not to mention the false opinion, which however is supported by Hertzberg (Alcibiades, p. 67), that the play was aimed at Alcibiades, who is concealed under the name of Phidippides. See, on the contrary, Droysen, p. 180; Schnitzer, p. 34.
4 Such as the calculation of flea-jumps.
the charges against him are threefold, his being occupied |217| with useless physical and intellectual subtleties, 1 his rejecting the Gods of the city, 2 and what is the corner-point of the whole play, his sophistic facility of speech, which can gain for the wrong side the victory over the right, and make the weaker argument the stronger. 3 In other words, the unpractical, irreligious, and sophistical elements in the Socratic teaching are attacked; there is not a word about his anti-republican tendency, which Aristophanes, we may suppose, had he observed, would before all things have exposed. Even at a later time, 4 Aristophanes brings no other complaints against Socrates than these. Only these points, too, according to Plato, constituted the standing charges against Socrates, causing him special danger. 5 And there is every reason for believing his assurance.
1 143-234, 636.
2 365-410.
3 Clouds, 889. Droysen, Clouds, p. 177, unfairly blames this play for making a stronger argument into a right one. The λόγος κρείττων is the really stronger case in point of justice, according to the original meaning of the word (Xenoph. (Ec. ii. 25; Arist. Rhet. ii. 24), which is however thrown into the shade by the λόγος ἥττων; and what is meant by τὸν ἥττων λόγον κρείττω ποιεῖν is, making the case which in point of justice is weaker, to be the stronger as to the actual result,—giving to an unjust act the colour of justice.
4 Frogs, 1491.
5 Apol, 23, D.: λέγουσιν ὡς Σωκράτης τίς ἐστι μιαρώτατος καὶ διαφθείρει τοὺς νέους: καὶ ἐπειδάν τις αὐτοὺς ἐρωτᾷ ὅτι ποιῶν καὶ ὅτι διδάσκων, ἔχουσι μὲν οὐδὲν εἰπεῖν ἀλλ᾽ ἀγνοοῦσιν, ἵνα δὲ μὴ δοκῶσιν ἀπορεῖν, τὰ κατὰ πάντων τῶν φιλοσοφούντων πρόχειρα ταῦτα λέγουσιν, ὅτι ‘τὰ μετέωρα καὶ τὰ ὑπὸ γῆς’ καὶ ‘θεοὺς μὴ νομίζειν’ καὶ ‘τὸν ἥττω λόγον κρείττω ποιεῖν. Ibid. 18, B.
(d) Socrates attacked not only because of his anti-republican views, but as being an enemy of the good old time. If then the impeachment of Socrates has, nevertheless, been set down to a political motive, how can this admission be made to agree with the previous |218| statement? The true answer to this question has been already hinted at by other writers. 1 The conviction of the guilt of Socrates rested on the assumed dangerous character of his teaching for morality and religion; the reason that this offence was judicially prosecuted lay without doubt in the special political circumstances of the time. The rationalism of the Sophists was neither the sole nor the chief cause of the fall of Athens in the Peloponnesian war; still it contributed unmistakeably to that result, and the opponents of the new culture were naturally disposed to make its guilt out to be greater than it really was. Had not the schools of the Sophists sent forth not a few of the modern statesmen, who either as the leaders of oligarchy or democracy had torn the state to pieces? Was not in those schools a corrupt form of morality publicly taught, which substituted the wishes and caprice of the individual in place of existing custom and religion, put gain in the place of right, and taught men to desire absolute sovereignty as the summit of human happiness? Were not those schools the cradle of an unscrupulous eloquence, which employed a variety of technical tricks for any purpose, no matter what, considering it the highest triumph to make the wrong side the winning side? Can we then wonder that Aristophanes thought the new-fangled education responsible for all the misfortunes of the commonwealth; 2
1 Ritter, p. 31. Marbach, Gesch. d. Phil. i. 185, 9; and Schwegler, Gesch. d. Phil. 30.
2 Clouds, 910; Knights, 1373. Further details in Süvern, Clouds, 24.
that Anytus in Plato |219| cannot find terms strong enough to express his horror of the pernicious influence of the Sophists; 1 that all friends of the good old time believed that in Sophistry lay the chief malady of the state; and that this feeling was intensified during the last yearsof the Peloponnesian war, and under the oligarchial reign of force? Was it then other than natural that those who had rescued Athens from the oligarchy, re-establishing with the old constitution her politicalindependence, should wish by suppressing the education of the Sophists to stop the evil at its source. Now Socrates passed not only for a teacher of the modern Sophistic school, but the evil effects of his teaching were thought to be seen in several of his pupils, among whom Critias and Alcibiades were prominent. 2 What more intelligible under such circumstances, than that just those who were bent upon restoring a popular form of government, and the ancient glory of Athens, should see in him a corrupter of youth, and a dangerous citizen? Thus he certainly fell a victim to the republican reaction which set in after the overthrow of the thirty tyrants. For all that his political views were not in themselves the principal motives which provoked the attack.
1 Meno, 91, C.
2 How largely this circumstance contributed towards the condemnation of Socrates is proved by Xen. Mem. i. 2, 12, as well as by the above-mentioned authority, Aeschines.
His guilt was rather supposed to consist in the subversion of ancestral customs and piety, of which the anti-republican tendency of his teaching |220| was partly an indirect consequence, partly an isolated manifestation.
C. Justification of the Sentence
(1) Unfounded charges. (a) In relation to his teaching, life, and influence. How then does it really stand touching the justice of this accusation 1 and of the sentence to which it led? And what must be thought of the modern attempts to justify it? Most of the charges which were preferred against Socrates, rest undeniably on misunderstandings, perversions, or false inferences. Socrates is said to have rejected the Gods of the state. We have already seen this statement contradicted by all historical testimonies. 2 He is said to have substituted his δαιμόνιον in their place.
1 It is well known that Hegel has defended it on the side of Greek law, and Dresig, a hundred years earlier, maintained in a very superficial treatise, that Socrates, as an opponent of a republican government, had been justly condemned. Forchhammer goes a great deal further in his treatise, and so does Dénis. See p. 178, 3. Köchly, on the other hand, confines himself, in Acad. Vortr. i, 382, to the assertion that in the indictment of Socrates guilt was equally divided and reduced to a minimum on either side. The answer of Heinsinus to Forchhammer (Socrates nach dem Grade seiner Schuld. Lips, 1839) is unimportant, and the learned Apologia Socratis contra Meliti redivivi Calumniam, by P. van Limburg Brouwer (Grön. 1838), is deficient in insight into the general guestions involved, and is inferior to. the treatise of Preller (Haller, A. L. Z. 1838, No, 87), although many of its details are valuable. Luzac, de Socrate cive 1796, despite his usual learning, does little for the question. Grote’s remarks, on the other hand, touching the extenuating circumstances, which, without altogether justifying, excuse the condemnation of Socrates, are deserving of all attention. Grote, Hist. of Greece, viii. 678, 653.
2 Forchhammer repeats the charge without proof, as if its truth were obvious of itself, and he speaks of orthodoxy and heresy like a modern theologian. But a Greek thought far less of belief than of outward service, and hence Xenophon, Mem. i. 1, 2, refutes the charge by an appeal to the fact that he had sacrificed to the Gods.
We, however, likewise know that he neither put it in |221| the place of the Gods, nor sought thereby to encroach on the ground of oracles. 1 It was a private oracle in addition to those publicly recognised; and in a country where divine revelations were not the exclusive property of the priesthood, a private oracle could be refused to no one. 2 He is said to have been devoted to the atheistic, heavenly wisdom of Anaxagoras, 3 although he expressly declared it to be absurd. 4 He is said according to Aristophanes to have given instruction in the Sophistic art of oratory—a charge so untrue, that to all appearances even Meletus did not venture to prefer it. He is blamed for having been the teacher of Critias and Alcibiades, to which charge even Xenophon justly replied 5 that these men did not learn their vices from Socrates, nor degenerate, until after being separated from him. Allowing, too, that a teacher must instil into his pupils a lasting turn for the good, 6 is it necessarily his fault if he does not succeed in some few cases?
1 Compare p. 76, 7; 89; 149, 1; 178.
2 Xenophon therefore appeals to the damdrnoy (Mem. i. 1, 2) in good faith as a proof of Socrates’ belief in the Gods, and Plato compares his revelations with the prophecies of Euthyphro (Euthyphro, 3, B). It is indeed known, from other sources, how much private divination was practised, besides appealing to public oracles.
3 Not only Aristophanes but Meletus brings this charge against him in Plato, Apol. 26, C, p. 10, like Ast (Platon’s Leben und Schriften, p. 480). If Forchhammer considers it incredible that Meletus should have given such a careless reply to Socrates, he forgets that it is always the way of the world to confound relative with positive atheism, doubts about particular religious notions with the denial of all religion. This is quite universal in the nations of antiquity, and therefore the early Christians were called ἄθεοι.
4 See p. 135, 1.
5 Mem. i. 2, 12.
6 Forchhammer, p. 43.
|222 | The value of any instruction can only be estimated by its collective effects, and these bear as bright a testimony to the value of the instruction of Socrates as can be wished. A man whose beneficial influence not only reached to many individuals, 1 but by whom a new foundation for morals was laid which served his people for centuries, was, as a matter of course, no corrupter of youth. If further the verses of Hesiod, by which Socrates sought to promote useful activity are alleged against him; 2 Xenophon has conclusively proved that an ill use has been made of these verses. If lastly, he has been accused of teaching men to despise parents and relations, because he maintained that only knowledge constituted worth; 3 surely this is a most unfair inference from principles, which had a simple meaning in his mouth. Any teacher who makes his pupil understand that he must learn something in order to become a useful and estimable man, is surely quite in order. Only the rabble can bear the teacher a grudge for making sons wiser than their fathers. Very different would it have been had Socrates spoken disparagingly of the ignorance of parents, or set lightly by the duty of children; but from so doing he was far removed. 4
1 Plato's Apol. 33, D, mentions a whole string; also Xen. Mem. i. 2, 48.
2 Mem. i. 2, 56; Plato, Char. 163, B. Conf. p. 212, 4.
3 Mem. i, 2, 49.
4 Conf. Mem. ii. 2, 3. A further charge is connected with the above, viz., that he induced many young men to follow his training rather than that of their parents. This fact Xenophon’s Apology allows, and attempts to justify. But in order to decide whether it is an established fact, and whether Socrates is here to blame, it is indeed quite possible we need a more trustworthy authority, and we ought to know the circumstances better. In the single case there mentioned, that of the son of Anytus, the truth of which appears doubtful, Socrates probably did not set the son against his father, but urged the father to give him a better education, or else expressed himself to a third party to that effect.
|223| It might be replied that one who judged the value of aman simply and solely by his knowledge, and who at the same time found all wanting in true knowledge, was making bis pupils self-conceited, and teaching them to consider themselves above all authority by their own imaginary knowledge. But whilst with partial eye overrating the importance of knowledge, Socrates avoided this practically harmful inference by above all endeavouring to make his friends conscious of their own want of knowledge, and laying no claim to knowledge himself, but only professing to pursue it. No fear that any one imbued with this spirit of humility and modesty, would misuse the Socratic teaching. For its misconstruction and for the consequences of a superficial and defective conception of it Socrates is as little responsible as any other teacher.
(b) Charges affecting his position towards the state. Of more moment is another point touched upon in the judicial proceedings—the relation of Socrates himself to the Athenian democracy. As is well known, Socrates considered the existing constitution a complete failure. (See p. 167.) He would not have the power in the state awarded by lot or by election, but by the qualification of the individuals; and he occasionally expressed opinions respecting the masses who thronged the Pnyx and filled the theatre at assemblies of the people containing no doubt a great deal of truth, |224| but coming very near to treason against the sovereignty of the people. 1 It was natural that his accusers should make use of such expressions, and that they should not be without influence on the judges. Still a free censure of existing institutions is by no means treason. Some Grecian states may have confined the liberty of speech within very narrow limits, but at Athens the freedom of thought and of speech was unlimited; it formed.an integral portion of the republican constitution; the Athenian regarded it as an inalienable right and was proud to be herein distinguished from every other state. 2 In the time of the most violent party quarrels there is no instance of interference with either political views or political teaching. The outspoken friends of a Spartan aristocracy could openly stick to their colours, so long as they refrained from actual attacks on the existing state of things; and was Socrates not to be allowed the same privilege? 3
1 In Mem. iii. 7, Socrates attempts to relieve Charmides of his dread of appearing in public by reminding him, that the people whom he is afraid of, consist of peasants, shoemakers, pedlars, etc., and therefore do not deserve such consideration. The charge preferred by the accuser, Mem. i. 2, 58, that Socrates thought it was reasonable for the rich to abuse the poor, is clearly a misrepresentation.
2 Compare Plato, Gorg. 461, E: Demosth. in Androt. p. 603; Funebr. 1396.
3 Grote’s reference to the Platonic state, l. c. p. 679, in which no freedom of individual opinion was allowed, is not altogether to the point. The fundamental ideas of Plato’s state are different to those then prevailing in Athens. Plato, Rep. viii. 557, B, reckons freedom of speech among the evils of a democracy, a type of which was the Athenian form of government.
In the shape of actual deeds nothing, however, could be laid to his charge. He had never |225| transgressed the laws of the state. His duties as a citizen had been conscientiously fulfilled. His avowed opinion was that man must live for the state and obey its laws. He was no partizan of the oligarchical faction. On the contrary, he had twice hazarded his life, 1 once to rescue the victors at Arginusae—good democrats—from the extrajudicial mercies of an infuriated populace, the other time to prevent an unjust command of the thirty tyrants from being carried out. 2 His school, too, in as far as it can be called a school, had no decided political bias. If the greater number of his pupils were taken from the upper classes, 3 and hence probably belonged to the aristocratic party, one of his most intimate friends 4 was amongst the companions of Thrasybulus; most of his adherents however seem to have taken no decided line in politics. A charge of political inactivity has been brought against him in modern times. On this head, different judgments may be passed on him from different points of views. From our side we can only praise him for continuing faithful to his higher calling, not wasting his powers and his life on a career, in which he would have attained no success, and for which he was unfitted. But whatever view may be taken, it is certainly not a punishable offence to avoid a statesman’s career; least of all to avoid it under the conviction that you can do more good to the state in other ways.
1 Xen. i. 1, 17.
2 See pp. 66; 67; 148; 166.
3 Plato, Apol. 23, C. See p. 176.
4 Chaerephon, ibid. 21, A.
|226| To help the state in his own way was to Socrates an object of the highest and deepest interest. 1 His political theories may not have corresponded with existing institutions, but his character as a citizen must be admitted to be pure; and according to the laws of Athens, he was guilty of no crime against the state. 2
(2) The views of Socrates subversive of old views of authority, political life, religion. Nor were the political views of Socrates the only things which gave offence. His whole position was, as Hegel has so well indicated, 3 at variance with the ground occupied by the old Greek morality. The moral life of Greece, like every national form of life, rested originally on authority. It relied partly on the unquestioned authority of the laws of the state, and partly on the all-powerful influence of custom and training, which raised general convictions to the rank of written laws of God, traceable by no one to a definite origin. To oppose this traditional morality was regarded as a crime and conceit, an offence against God and the commonweal.
1 Compare p. 65.
2 At an earlier period it might have given offence, that: Socrates appeared to hold aloof from the political questions of his time, and an appeal might have been made to the old law of Solon, Plut. Sol. c. 20; Arist. in Gell. N. A. ii. 12, 1, threatening neutrals in case of an internal quarrel with loss of civil rights. But this law had long fallen into disuse, if indeed it had ever been in force; and who can blame Socrates for remaining neutral when he could conscientiously side with none of the conflicting parties? Perhaps it was a political narrowness, but it was not a crime.
3 Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 81.
To doubt its rightfulness never occurred to anyone, nor was indeed permitted; and for this reason, the need of an enquiry into its foundations, of proving its |227| necessity, or even of supporting it by personal introspection, was never felt.
(a) Personal conviction substituted for deference to authority. Socrates, however, demanded such an enquiry. He would allow nothing to be believed, and have nothing done, until men were first fully convinced of its truth or expediency. For him it is not enough to have a rule, universally recognised and legally established, but the individual must think out each subject for himself, and discover its reasons: true virtue and right action are only possible when they spring from personal conviction. Hence his whole life was spent in examining the current notions touching morals, in testing their truth, and seeking for their reasons. This examination brought him in nearly all points to the same results as those which were established by custom and opinion. If his notions were in many respects clearer and sharper, this advantage was one which he shared in common with the best and wisest of his contemporaries. Nevertheless, tried by the standard of the old Greek morality, his position seems very critical. In the first place the ordinary morality, and the received rules of conduct resting on authority and tradition, were by him deprived of their chief value. In comparison with knowledge, and the conscious virtue of Socrates, they were so much depreciated, that not only was the self-love of individuals hurt, but the actual validity of the laws of the state was called in question. If man has only to follow his own convictions, he will agree with the popular will only when, and in as far as, it agrees with his convictions. If the two come into collision, there can be |228| no doubt as to which side he will espouse. This principle is candidly avowed by Socrates in his defence, in his celebrated declaration that he would obey God rather than the Athenians. 1 And thus his views stand, even in theory, in sharp and irreconcileable contradiction to the older view. It was impossible therefore to guarantee, indeed it was highly improbable that there would be, a perfect agreement between the two in their results, and as a matter of fact, Socrates by his political views was undeniably opposed to the existing form of constitution. 2
(b) Less importance attached to politics. There can moreover be no mistaking the fact, that the whole character of the Socratic philosophy is at variance with the preponderance given to political interests, without which the Greek states could never, considering their limited range, have achieved greatness. The duty of the individual towards the community was indeed recognised by Socrates to its full extent. Even his friends he urged to devote their attention to public affairs when any of them showed ability for the task, 3 and in keeping back from public life those who were young 4 and unformed, he acted meritoriously from the point of view of ancient Greece. Still the maxim that man must be clear about himself, and be sure of his own moral well-being before meddling with that of others and with the community; 5
1 Plat. Apol. 29, C.
2 See p. 167 and 223.
3 See p. 167, 3.
4 Mem. iii.6; iv. 2; Plato, 2 Symp. 216, A.
5 Plato, l. c.
the conviction of Socrates that a political career was not only alien to his own |229| character, but impossible, in the then state of things, to a man of integrity; (1 Plato, Apology 31, C) the whole inward turn given to thought and pursuits, the demand for self-knowledge, for moral knowledge, for self-training—all this could not but weaken in himself and his pupils the inclination for political life. It could not fail to make the moral perfection of the individual the main point, while reducing activity for the state—that highest and most immediate duty of a citizen according to the ancient view—to a subordinate and derivative rank.
(c) His position subversive of religion. And, lastly, if the charge of rejecting his country’s Gods was, as he believed, unjustly preferred against Socrates, still his theory, it must be admitted, was an extremely perilous one, as was seen in the case of Antisthenes, when once the Socratic demand for knowledge was developed to its consequences, and religious notions were similarly dealt with in order to discover what people understood thereby. This is true also of his δαιμόνιον. As a kind of oracle it had indeed a place on the ground of the Greek faith, but by its internal character it made the decision depend on the subject instead of depending on external portents. And yet how dangerous was this proceeding in a country in which oracles were not only a religious but a political institution! How easily might others be led to imitate the example of Socrates, taking counsel, however, with their own understanding instead of with an undefined inward feeling, and thus thinking little of belief in the Gods or of their |230| utterances! We may indeed be convinced that Socrates was in all these points right in the main, and it is quite true that he was the precursor and founder of our moral view of the world; but how could this new idea of right be admitted by any one who shared the traditions of the ancient Greek world? How could a state built upon these traditions allow such an idea to be spread, without commiting an act of suicide? Even remembering, then, that Socrates laboured and taught in his simple manner, not in the Sparta of Lycurgus, but in Athens and amongst the generation that had fought at Marathon, we shall still find it quite natural for the state to endeavour to restrain his action. For Athens was absolutely ignorant of that freedom of personal conviction, which Socrates required, nor could she endure it. 1 In such a community the punishment of the innovator can cause no surprise. For was not a dangerous doctrine, according to old notions, a crime against the state? And if the criminal resolutely refused to obey the sentence of the judges, as Socrates actually did, how could the penalty of death fail to follow? To one therefore starting from the old Greek view of right and the state, the condemnation of Socrates cannot appear to be unjust. 2
1 To say that the line adopted by Socrates was not opposed to the constitution of Solon, but was instead a return to old Greek custom, as Georgii (Uebersetzung d. Plat. Apologie, p. 129) asserts, is not correct. For not only did he express disapproval of appointing by lot to public offices, which was, it is true, an institution later than Solon’s time, but he disliked the popular elections of Solon; and his principle of free investigation is widely removed from the spirit of Solon’s times.
2 Compare the remarks of Kock on Aristophanes, i. 7.
|231| (3) Relation borne by his views to contemporary views. (a) The old morality was already in a state of decay. A very different question is it whether Athens at that time had a right to this opinion, a point which the defenders of Athens assume far too readily. 1 To us the question appears to deserve an unqualified negation. Had a Socrates appeared in the time of Miltiades and Aristides, and had he been condemned then, the sentence might be regarded as a simple act of defence on the part of the old morality against the spirit of innovation. In the period after the Peloponnesian war such a view can no longer be admitted. For where was the solid morality which Anytus and Meletus were supposed to defend? Had not all kinds of relations, views, and modes of life long since been penetrated by an individualising tendency far more dangerous than that of Socrates?
1 Hegel, l. c. p. 100, is here most nearly right, although he regards the Athenians exclusively as the representatives of the old Greek morality. Forchhammer, on the contrary, is anything but impartial, in making the Athenians conservative, and Socrates a revolutionary, and attributing to the latter the extreme consequences of those principles, notwithstanding his protest. Nietzsche, too (Sokr. a. d. Griech. Tragédie, p. 29), overlooks the difference of times in thinking that, when Socrates had once been impeached, his condemnation was quite just. If this were allowed, not aword could be said against the sentence of death. For, according to Athenian custom, when a verdict of guilty had been brought in, the judges could only choose between the penalty demanded by the plaintiff and that asked for by the defendant; in the present case between death and an illusory fine. But the question really is whether Socrates deserved punishment at all, and to this question a negative answer must be given both from our point of view as well as from that of his contemporaries; from ours, because we take liberty of judgment to be something sacred and inviolable; from theirs, because the Athenians had long since departed from the ancient state of things.
Had not men been long accustomed in place of the |232| great statesmen of old to see demagogues and aristocrats in feud with each other on every other point, but agreeing in the thoughtless play of rivalry and ambition? Had not all the cultivated men of that time passed through a school of rationalism which had entirely pulled to pieces the beliefs and the morals of their ancestors? Had not men for a generation lived themselves into the belief that laws are the creations of caprice, and that natural right and positive nght are very different things? (Conf. p. 29.) What had become of the olden chastity when Aristophanes could tell his hearers in the midst of his attacks on Socrates, half in joke, half in derision, that they were one and all adulterers? (Clouds, 1083.) What had become of ancient piety at a time when the sceptical verses of Euripides were in every one’s mouth, when every year the happy sallies of Aristophanes and other comedians in successful derision of the inhabitants of Olympus were clapped, when the most unprejudiced complained that fear of God, trust, and faith, had vanished, (Thuc. iii. 82; ii. 53.) and when the stories of future retribution were universally derided? (Plato, Rep. i. 330, D.)
(b) Socrates only fell in with what he found existing. This state of things Socrates did not make; he found it existing. What he is blamed for really consists in this, that he entered into the spirit of his time, trying to reform it by means of itself, instead of making the useless and silly attempt to bring it back to a type of culture which was gone for ever. It was an obviously false attack of his opponents to |233| hold him responsible for the corruption of faith and morals, which he was trying to stem in the only possible way. It was a clumsy self-deception on their part to imagine themselves men of the good old time. His condemnation is not only a great injustice according to our conceptions of right, but it is so also according to the standard of his own time; it is a crying political anachronism, one of those unfortunate measures, by which a policy of restauration is ever sure to expose its incompetence and short-sightedness. Socrates certainly left the original ground of Greek thought, and transported it beyond the bounds, within which this particular form of national life was alone possible. But he did not do so before it was time, nor before the untenableness of the old position had been amply demonstrated. The revolution which was going forward in the whole spirit of the Greeks, was not the fault of one individual, but it was the fault of destiny, or rather it was the general fault of the time. The Athenians in punishing him condemned themselves, and committed the injustice of making him pay the penalty of what was historically the fault of all. The condemnation therefore was not of the least use: instead of being banished, the spirit of innovation was, on the contrary, thereby all the more aroused. We have then here not a simple collision between two moral powers equally justified and equally limited. Guilt and innocence are not equally divided between the parties. On the one hand was a principle historically necessary and higher in respect of importance, |234| of which Socrates had an unquestioned claim to be the representative. On the other hand, one far more limited, represented by his opponents, but to which they have no longer a just right, since they do not faithfully adhere to it. This constitutes the peculiar tragic turn in the fate of Socrates. A reformer who is truly conservative is attacked by nominal and imaginary restorers of old times. The Athenians in punishing him give themselves up as lost; for in reality it is not for destroying morals that he is punished, but for attempting to restore them.
(c) A breach between Socrates and his countrymen was absolutely necessary. To form a correct judgment of the whole occurrence, we must not forget that Socrates was condemned by only a very small majority, that to all appearances it lay in his own power to secure his acquittal, and that undoubtedly he would have escaped with a far less punishment than death, had he not challenged his judges by the appearance of pride. These circumstances must make us doubly doubtful of regarding his ruin as an unavoidable consequence of his rebellion against the spirit of his nation. As they place the guilt of the Athenians in a milder light, by laying it in part on the head of the accused, so too they at the same time prove that accidental events, in no way connected with the leading character of his teaching, had great weight in the final decision. No doubt Socrates was at variance with the position and the demands of the ancient morality in essential points; but it was not necessary in the then state of opinion at Athens, that it should come to a breach between him and his nation. Although |235| the political reaction after the expulsion of the thirty tyrants was sufficiently powerful to bring about an attack on him, the conviction of his guilt was not so universal but that it might have been possible for him to escape the punishment of death.
(4) The result of his death. For his honour and his cause it was a happy thing that he did not escape. What Socrates in pious faith expressed after his condemnation—that to die would be better for him than to live—has been fully realised in his work. The picture of the dying Socrates must have afforded to his pupils, in the highest degree, what it now after centuries affords to us—a simple testimony to the greatness of the human mind, to the power of philosophy, and to the victory of a spirit pious and pure, reposing on clear conviction. It must have stood before them in all its glory, as the guiding star of their inner life, as it is depicted by Plato’s master hand. It must have increased their admiration for their teacher, their zeal to imitate him, their devotion to his teaching. By his death the stamp of higher truth was impressed on his life and words. The sublime repose and happy cheerfulness with which he met death, was the strongest corroboration of all his convictions, the zenith of a long life devoted to knowledge and virtue. Death did not add to the substance of his teaching, but it greatly strengthened its influence. A life had been spent in sowing the seeds of knowledge with a zeal unequalled by any other philosopher either before or after; his death greatly forwarded the harvest, so that they brought forth fruit abundantly in the Socratic Schools.
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Part III. The Imperfect Followers of Socrates
Chapter XI. The School of Socrates: Popular Philosophy
A. The School of Socrates
A mind so great and active in every way as that of Socrates could not fail to make a lasting impression on every kind of character with which it came into contact. If then the most perfect systems are often not understood by all their adherents in the same sense, might not a much greater divergence and variety of apprehension be expected, in a case where no system lay ready to hand, but only the fragments and germs of what might be one—a person, a principle, a method, a mass of individual utterances and of desultory discussions? The greater part of the followers of Socrates confined their attention to what was most obvious and lay nearest to an ordinary intelligence—the originality, the purity of character, the intelligent view of life, the deep piety and the beautiful moral maxims of their teacher. Only a smaller number gave more careful attention to the |237| deeper thoughts, which often appeared under so unpretentious an outside, and even of these nearly all took a very narrow view of the subjects which occupied Socrates. Combining older theories with the teaching of their master, which it is true needed to be thus supplemented, they did so in such a manner as almost to lose the distinctive merits of his philosophy. One only with a deeper insight into the spirit of Socrates has succeeded in creating a system which presents in a most brilliant and extended form what Socrates had attempted in another manner and on a more limited scale.
In the first of these classes must be placed without doubt by far the greater number of those who are known to us as the pupils of Socrates. 1
1 Besides the Socratists who will be presently mentioned, are Crito (Xen. Mem. ii. 9; Plato, Crito, Phaedo, 59, B, 60, A, 63, D, 115, A; Eythydemus; Diog. ii. 121, who makes him the author of seventeen books, which, however, belong to him as little as his supposed children Hermogenes, and others), and Clitobulus his son (Xen. Mem. i. 3, 8. 11. 6; Oec. 1-6; Symp. 4, 10; Plato, Apol. 33, D, 38, B; Phaedo, 59, B; Aesch. in Atheneus v. 220, a.); Chaerephon (Mem. 2, 48; 11. 3; Plato, Apol. 20, E; Charm. 153, B; Gorgias, Aristophanes, Clouds, Birds, 1296) and his brother Chaerecrates (Mem. l. c.); also Apollodorus (Mem. iii. 11, 17; Plato, Apol. 34, A, 38, B; Phaedo, 59, B, 117, D; Symp.); Aristodemus (Mem. i. 4; Plato, Symp. 173, B, 174, A, 223, B); Euthydemus (Mem. iv. 2; 3; 5; 6; 1, Sym. 222 B); Theages (Pl. Apol. 33 E; Rep. vi. 496, B); Hermogenes (Xen. Mem. ii. 10, 3, iv. 8, 4; Sym. 4, 46; Apol. 2, Pl. Phaedo, 59, B). In Mem. i. 2, 48, perhaps Hermogenes should be read for Hermocrates; but at any rate this Hermocrates must be distinguished from the Hermocrates mentioned i. Tim. 19, C, 20, A, Krit. 108, A; the latter being a stranger who only stays at Athens on his way. Compare Steinhart, Pl. W. vi. 39 and 235; Phaedonides (Mem. i. 2, 48; Pl. Phaedo, 59, C); Theodotus (Pl. Apol. 33, E); Epigenes (Phaedo, 59, B; Mem. iii. 12); Menexenus (Phaedo, 59, B; Lysis, 206, D); Ctesippus (Phaedo, Euthydemus, and Lysis); Theaetetus (Theaetet. Soph. Pol. Pract. in Euclid. 19, m. 20); the younger Socrates (Plat. Theaet. 147, E; Soph. 218, 8; Polit. 257, C; Arist. Metaph. vii. 11, 1036, 6, 25; conf. Hermann, Plat. i. 661); Terpsion (Pl. Theaet.; Phaedo, 59, C); Charmides (Xen. Mem. iii. 7; 6, 14; Symp. 4, 29; Hellen. ii. 4, 19; Plato, Charm. Sym. 222, B; Prot. 315, A); Glaucon the brother of Plato (Mem. iii. 6; the same individual to whom Diog. ii. 124, attributes nine genuine and thirty-two spurious dialogues, and who is identical with the Glauco of Plato’s Republic, and the Parmenides, as we assume following Böckh; conf. Abhandlung d. Berliner Acad. 1873, Hist. Philos. Kl. p. 86); Cleombrotus (Phaedo. 59, C; perhaps the same who is said by Callim. in Cic. Tusc. i. 34, 84, and Sext. Math. i. 48; David, Proleg. in Cat. 9; Schol. in Arist. 13, b, 35; Ammon in Porphyr. Isag. 2, b, to have committed suicide over the Phaedo, probably not from misunderstanding the exhortation to a philosophic death, but from shame for his conduct there blamed); Diodorus (Meng. ii. 10); Critias, whom Dionys. Jud. de Thuc. c. 31, p. 941, reckons among the followers of Socrates and Alcibiades in their younger years (Mem. i. 2, 12, Plato); not to mention others who were acquainted with Socrates, but did not join his way of thinking, such as Phaedrus the friend of Sophistry (Plato, Phaed., Symp.); Callias (Xen. Symp., Plato, Phot.); the younger Pericles (Mem. iv. 5); Aristarchus (Mem. ii. 7.); Eutherus (Mem. ii. 8); and many others.
The writings |238| too which are attributed to many of these followers of Socrates—amongst which, however, there is much that is spurious—were, on an average doubtless little more than summaries of popular moral maxims. 1 One of the best illustrations of this mode of understanding and applying the doctrines of Socrates may be found in Xenophon. 2
1 Crito and Glaucon.
2 Xenophon, the son of the Athenian Gryllus, died aecording to a statement in Diog. ii. 56, 360-359 BC. From Hellen. vi. 4, 35, however, it appears that he survived the murder of Alexander of Pherae 357. If the treatise respecting the public revenues of Athens belongs to the year 355, he must also have outlived that year. On the authority of Ps. Lucian. Macrob. 21, his birth was formerly placed in 450, or on account of his participation in the battle of Delium, p. 66, 2, in 445 BC. The first of these passages is, however, extremely untrustworthy, as giving information depending on the date of his death which as very uncertain. The latter is so much at variance with what Plato, Symp. 220, D says, that it is a most uncertain foundation on which to build. Neither passage agrees with what Xenophon himself says (Anab. iii. 1, 4. and 25, οὐδὲν προϕασίζομαι τὴυ ἡλικίαν) 2, 37, where he mentions himself and Timasion as the two youngest amongst the generals. These passages place it beyond dispute, that at the time of the expedition he is describing, 401-400 BC, he was about 45 years of age and not much older than his friend Proxenus, who fell in it about 30. (So Grote, Plato iii. 563; Cobet, Nove Lect. 535; Bergk in Ersch. u. Gruber’s Encyl. i. 81, 392; Curtius, Griech. Gesch. iii. 772, 31.) The circumstances of his life we only know imperfectly. He speaks himself in the Anabasis iii. 1, 4, Memorabilia and Oeconomicus of his relations to Socrates, as to the origin of which ii, 48, tells a doubtful story, and in the Anabasis of his activity and experience in the retreat of the 10,000. After his return he entered the Spartan army in Asia Minor, and fought under Agesilaus at Coronea against his own countrymen. Banished for this from Athens, he settled in the Elean Scillus, colonised by Spartans (Xen. Anab. v. 3, 6; Diog. ii. 51; Pausan. v. 6, 4; Plut. Agesil. 18; De Exil. 10, p. 603). According to an ill-accredited story in Pausanias he died here. More credible authorities state that he was banished by the Eleans (probably in 370 BC, when they joined the Thebans after the battle of Leuctra Diodor. xv. 62), and spent the rest of his life at Corinth (Diog. 53). His banishment appears to have ended, when Athens joined Sparta against Thebes, as the treatise on the revenues indicates, whether before or after the battle of Mantinaea, in which his two sons fought among the Athenian cavalry, and the elder one Gryllus fell (Diog. 54; Plut. Consol. ad Apoll. 33, p. 118), Xenophon’s writings are distinguished for purity and grace of language, and the unadorned clearness of the description. They appear to have been preserved entire. The Apology, however, the Agesilaus, and the treatise on the Athenian constitution are certainly spurious and several others of the smaller treatises are either spurious or have large interpolations. Steinhart, Plat. 1. 95, 300, wrongly doubts the Symposium. For his life and writings consult Kreuger, De Xenoph. Vita, Halle, 1832, also in 2nd vol. of Historisch. philol. Studien, Ranke, De. Xenoph. Vita et Scriptis, Berlin, 1851. Grote, Plato iii. 562; Bergh, l. c.; Bahr in Pauly’s Realencyclop. vi. 6, 2791. For other literature on the subject ibid. and Ueberneg, Gesch. d. Phil. i. 95.
B. Xenophon
It is impossible in reading the works of this author not to be struck with the purity and loftiness |240| of the sentiment, with his chivalrous character, and the healthy tone of his mind; still his philosophical capacities cannot be estimated at a very high rate. His description of Socrates is full of admiration for the greatness of his character; his philosophical merit and his intellectual labours he has only imperfectly understood. Not only does he share the narrowness of the position of Socrates—as for instance when he quotes the derogatory opinions of his master respecting natural science in proof of his piety and intelligence, 1—but he misunderstands the true philosophic worth of the discussions he reports. The formation of conceptions, constituting as it does the germ of the whole teaching of Socrates, is only accidentally mentioned by him in order to show what care his master devoted to the critical culture of his friends. 2 All that he gathers from Socrates’ peculiar habit of asking everyone whom he came across, in his thirst for knowledge, as to his mode of life, is that he tried to make himself useful to people of every class, craftsmen included. 3 The importance of those maxims too, relative to virtue, in which the whole peculiarity of the Socratic ethics consists, can only be gathered with so much difficulty from his account, that it is obvious how little it was understood by Xenophon himself. 4
1 Mem. i. 1, 11; iv. 7.
2 Ibid. iv. 6.
3 Ibid. iii. 10, 1; i. 1; conf, 106, 2.
4 Mem. iii. 9, and p. 140.
Many echoes and reminiscences of the Socratic mode of teaching are indeed to be found in his independent sketches; but he is too |241| exclusively occupied with their practical application to engage in any really scientific researches. He describes the catéchetical mode of teaching, 1 in which he seems to have been somewhat skilled; but his dialogues do not aim, like those of the genuine Socratic type, at the formation of conceptions, and are often far too easy in their proofs and deductions. He recommends self-knowledge, 2 but primarily only in its popular sense, meaning, that no one ought to attempt what: is beyond his powers. He insists on piety, self-restraint, 3 and so forth, but he appears not to hold the maxim of Socrates, 4 that all these virtues consist in knowledge. Following the method used by Socrates, he proves that nothing is a good of which you do not make a right-use; 5 that every one readily submits to the wise, 6 that right and law are synonymous terms, 7 and that the rich are not more happy than the poor, 8 that the true measure of riches and poverty is not simple possession, but a possession proportionate: to the needs of the possessor. 9 He repeats what Socrates had said about truth and error, 10 yet not without hinting that these principles are liable to be abused.
1 Oec. 19, 14.
2 Cyrop. vii. 2, 20.
3 Ibid. viii. 1, 23.
4 Compare the conversation between Cyrus and Tigranes, Cyrop. iii. 1, 16, and Mem. i. 2, 19, in which the ordinary view is given rather than the Socratic, although the language allows the latter.
5 See above, p. 141, 2.
6 Cyrop. i. 6, 21. See above, p. 168, 2.
7 Ibid. i. 3, 17. See p. 148, 1.
8 Ibid. viii. 3, 40; Symp. 4, 29; Mem. i. 6, 4.
9 Oec. 2, 2.
10 Cyrop. i. 6, 31; Mem. iv. 2, 13.
With the same decision as his master, he declares against the sensual and unnatural abuses |242| of love; 1 and, following out his train of thought, he requires that woman should have a recognised, social position, and have more care spent on her education, and that her union should be made into a real companionship for life,: and should be based on a reciprocity of capacities and performances. 2 He exhorts to work, without, however, like his teacher condemning the Greek prejudice against manual labour. 3 By many of his expressions he gives us to know what is his ideal of a beautiful and happy life; 4 but he neither attempts to give a philosophic reason for his ideal, nor does he place it outside the platform of traditional Greek ethics. Touching the knowledge and omnipotence of the Gods, their care for mankind, the blessing consequent upon piety, 5 he expresses himself with warmth; but at the same time he fully shares the belief of his nation 6 in regard to predictions and sacrifices, himself understanding their interpretation. He makes Cyrus express the hope of a higher life after death, confirming that view by several considerations, without, however, venturing to assert it with full assurance. He reminds us that the soul is invisible; that vengeance surely comes on the murderers of the innocent, and that honour is due to the dead.
1 Symp. 8, 7, p. 165.
2 Oec. 313, c. 7; see p. 166, 4.
3 Oec. 4, 2; 6, 5; 20, 15; conf. p. 170, 1.
4 Mem. iv. 8, 11; Cyrop. viii. 7, 6; Oec. 11, 8.
5 Symp. 4, 46; Cyrop. i. 6, Cyrop. i. 6, 2; Oec. 7, 18.
6 Compare amongst other passages, Cyrop. i. 6, 2; 23; 44: Oec. 5, 19; 7, 7; 1, 8; Hipparch. i. 1; B 14; 7, 1; 9, 8; Anal. iii. 1, 11; v. 9, 22 and 6, 28, and also pp. 65, B; 147; Cyrop. i. 6, 2; 23 agrees fully with Mem. i. 1, 6
He cannot believe that the soul which |243| gives life to the body should be itself mortal, or that reason should not survive in greater purity after its separation from the body, seeing a sign thereof in prophesying in sleep. 1 In all these explanations we may discern the faithful and thoughtful follower of Socrates, but there is not a trace of original thought. Indeed it is doubtful whether the few passages in which Xenophon seems to have somewhat amplified the teaching of his master, ought not really to be attributed to Socrates.
His larger work on politics, the Cyropaedeia, is, as a book of political philosophy, unimportant. Xenophon here proposes to pourtray the Socratic ideal of a ruler who understands his business, 2 and who cares for his people as a shepherd cares for his flock; 3 but what he really gives, is a description of a valiant and prudent general, 4 of an upright man, and of a chivalrous conqueror. Not an attempt is made to mark out more clearly the province of government, to give a higher meaning to the state, or to fulfil its object by fixed institutions. The demand for a careful education 5 may reveal the follower of Socrates, but there is so little reference in that education to knowledge, 6 that it might more easily pass for a Spartan than for a Socratic education.
1 Cyrop. Viii. 7, 17. See p. 179.
2 Ibid. i. 1, 3. See p. 167.
3 Ibid. viii. 2, 14; Mem. i. 2, 32.
4 Ibid. 6, 12, speaks of these duties in language similar to Mem. iii. 1. Perhaps Xenophon may be the nameless friend referred to in this passage.
5 Cyrop. i. 2, 2; viii. 8, 13; vii. 5, 72.
6 A weak echo of the principle of Socrates is found i. 4, 3.
|244| Everything centres in the person of the prince. The state is an Asiatic kingdom. The highest aim to which all its institutions tend, 1 is the strength and wealth of the sovereign and his courtiers. Even this view is very imperfectly carried out, and many important departments of government are altogether omitted. 2 The same remarks apply to the Hiero. In this dialogue Xenophon shows plainly enough, how little the supposed good-fortune of an absolute sovereign is really to be envied. His remarks touching the means whereby such a sovereign can make himself and his people happy—allowing that many of his proposals are expedient—do not advance beyond a benevolent despotism. More successful is his smaller treatise on family life. It bears witness to an intelligent mind and a benevolent heart, which comes out particularly in its utterances respecting the position assigned to woman 3 and the treatment of slaves. 4 But it makes no pretensions to be a philosophical treatise, though it may contain many individual Socratic thoughts. 5 From Xenophon, then, the history of philosophy can gain but little. 6
1 Compare viii. 1. The treaty between Cyrus and the Persians, viii. 5, 24, has for its object, security by the advantages of government.
2 Compare the spirited remarks of Mohl, Gesch. d. Staatswissenschaft, i. 204.
3 C. 3, 13, c. 7.
4 12, 3; 14, 93 c. 21; 7, 87 and 41; 9, 11.
5 See p. 242, 2.
6 A more favourable view of Xenophon by Strümpell, Gesch. d. Prakt. Phil. d. Gr. 466-509. He sees in him the development of Socratic thought from the point of applied ethics, and a supplement to Plato’s pure speculations. Yet he too says that excepting in the Oeconomica there can be no trace of a systematic development in Xenophon (p. 481); his ethical teaching is extremely simple, almost entirely devoid of philosophic language (p. 484); he never really proves anything, nor employs any form for deduction, not even the favourite method with Socrates, that of definition (p. 467). In what then does his importance for philosophy and history consist? The application of the thoughts of others, without verifying their contents or observing their method, may in many respects be very meritorious, but it cannot be regarded as a service rendered to philosophy.
|245|
C. Aeschines
Aeschines 1 would appear to have treated the teaching of Socrates in the same way. The writings of this disciple, 2 are reckoned among the best models of Attic prose, 3 and are by some preferred to those of Xenophon. 4
1 Aeschines, son of Lysanias (Plato, Apol. 33 E), against whom Diog. ii. 60, can have no weight, is praised for his adherence to Socrates (Diog. ii. 31; Senec. Benef. 1. 8). Plato mentions him (Phaedo, 59, R.), among those who were present at the death of Socrates. Idomeneus, however (Diog. ii. 60, 35; iii. 36), transferred to him: the part played by Crito in Plato, probably only out of spite to Plato. We afterwards encounter him in the company of the younger Dionysius (Diog. ii. 61; 63; Plut. Adul. et Am. c. 26, p. 67; Philost. v. Apollon. 1. 35, p. 43; Lucian, Paras. c. 32, conf. Diodor. xv. 76), to whom he had been recommended by Plato, according to Plutarch, by Aristippus according to Diogenes. Aristippus appears as his friend in Diog. ii, 82: Plat. Coh. Ira, 14. Poor to begin with (Diog. ii. 34, 62) he was still poor in after-life on his return to Athens. He did not venture it is said to found a school, but delivered a few speeches and treatises for money (Diog. ii. 62; what Athen. xi. 507, c. and Diog. ii. 20 say is not credible). Whether the dirty stories are true which Lysias in Athen. xiii. 611, tells of him is a moot point. His writings according to Athen. give the impression of an honourable man. The time of his death is not known.
2 According to Diog. ii. 61, 64, Phrynichus in Phot. Bibliothek, c. 151, p. 101, seven of these were considered to be genuine. The scanty remains of them have been collected by Hermann, De Aeschin. Socr. Reliquiis, Gött. 1850. See ibid. p. 8.
3 Longin. περὶ εὑρές. Rhet. Gr. ix. 559 (ed. Walz).
4 Phrynich. in Phot. Cod. 61, Schl. 158, g. E; Hermogenes, Form. Orat. ii. 3; Rhet. Gr. iii. 394. M. Psellos in Con. Catal. of Bodl. MSS. p. 7483 quoted by Grote, Plato, iii. 469, against which authority Timon in Diog. ii. 55; 62 carries no weight. He is said to have imitated Gorgias in speech, Diog. ii. 63.
It is moreover asserted that they reproduce |246| the spirit of Socrates with wonderful fidelity, 1 and the few fragments which remain confirm this view. Nevertheless they appear to have been singularly poor in real philosophic thought. Their strength consists far more in the grace and elegance of their language than in an independent treatment of the Socratic teaching.
D. Simmias and Cebes
More philosophic characters were the two Thebans, Simmias 2 and Cebes. 3 Both were pupils of Philolaus; 4 both are described by Plato 5 as thoughtful men. Still nothing certain is known of their philosophical opinions and performances. The writings attributed to them 6 were already rejected by Panetius 7 as far as he knew them, and the single one extant, known as the ‘Mirror’ of Cebes, is certainly spurious. 8
1 Aristid. Or. xlv. p. 35. Conf. Demetr. De Interpret. 297. Hence the story (Diog. ii. 60, 62; Athen. xiii. 611), that his speeches had been composed by Socrates, and given to him by Xanthippe. Diog. ii. 47 ranks him among the most distinguished followers of Socrates.
2 Xen. Mem. i. 2, 48; iii. 11, 17; Plato, Phaedo, 59, C, 63 A.
3 Mem.; Phaedo, 59, C, 60, C.
4 Phaedo, 61, D.
5 It is said (Phaedo, 242, B), that Simmias delivered and composed more philosophical speeches than anyone else. In the Phaedo, 86, C, he is made to utter the maxim, that every question should be pursued as far as possible. Of Cebes, it is said (Phaedo, 63, A, 77, A), that he could always raise objections, and was the most inveterate doubter; and the part which he and Simmias play in the Phaedo corresponds with this description.
6 Diog. ii. 124, mentions twenty-three lectures of Simmias and three of Cebes, including the Mirror. Other testimonies for the latter in Schweighäuser, Epictete Enchiridion et Cebetes tabula, p. 261.
7 Diog. ii. 64: Πάντων μέντοι τῶν Σωκρατικῶν διαλόγων Παναίτιος ἀληθεῖς εἶναι δοκεῖ τοὺς Πλάτωνος, Ξενοφῶντος, Ἀντισθένους, Αἰσχίνου: διστάζει δὲ περὶ τῶν Φαίδωνος καὶ Εὐκλείδου, τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους ἀναιρεῖ πάντας.
8 In modern times its genuineness has been maintained by Bakr (Pauly’s Real-Encyclop. 2 vol. Art. Cebes) and Schweighäuser, c. 13, 33; but their assumption is refuted by two passages in it, one of which mentions a Peripatetic, and the other quotes from Plato’s Laws. In other respects too, notwithstanding its general colourlessness, traces appear of later times, e.g. in its Stoic morality and attacks on false culture.
Still less can any dependence be |247| placed on the genuineness of the writings which were circulated at a later time under the name of the shoemaker Simon. 1 Probably he is altogether an imaginary person. 2
1 See Diog. ii. 122; Süid. Σωκράτης’ Epist. Socrat. 12, 13; Phi. c. Prin. Philos. c. 1, p. 776; Böckh.in Plat. Minoëm. 42, Simonis Socrat. Dialogi iv. Hermann, Plat. i. 419, 585.
2 What Diogenes says of him is unsatisfactory, and the story that Pericles asked to be taken in by him, but that he refused, besides being chronologically suspicious, is hardly likely to be true. Of the dialogues attributed to him a great part are found in writings belonging to other people (Hermann, l. c.). It is suspicious, that he is not mentioned by any ancient authority, and that both Plato and Xenophon should be silent about an old and very remarkable pupil of Socrates. In addition to the above, Suidas (Σωκράτ. p. 843) mentions also Bryso of Heraclea as a pupil of Socrates. Others, however, as Suidas remarks, called him a pupil of Euclid’s, and the comedian Ephippus in Athen. xi. 509, c. calls him an Academician. Theopompus’ statement (l. c. 508, D) that Plato copied some of his writings, would harmonise with either view; but it is in any case false.
In addition to Plato, four founders of Socratic schools are known to us: Euclid, Phaedo, Antisthenes, and Aristippus. Of these the two former are much alike; the two others follow courses peculiar to themselves. There arose thus from them three distinct Socratic schools: the Megarian-Elean, the Cynic, and the Cyrenaic. All these are derived from Socrates. One-sided however in their aims, and dependent themselves on earlier theories, they only imperfectly catch the spirit of the teaching of |248| Socrates, and diverge from him and from one another in the most opposite directions. Socrates placed the highest business of man in knowing the good. What that good was he could not mark out more accurately, being partly satisfied with a practical description of it, being partly restricted to a theory of relative pleasure. These various sides of the Socratic philosophy now diverge, and are rounded into systems. One party confines itself to the general burden of the teaching of Socrates—the abstract idea of the good. Others starting from pleasure which is its result make that the gauge of the good, and the good itself something relative. Again within the former class some make the theoretical, others the practical treatment of the good, to be the main point. Thus the Socratic teaching gave rise to the three schools just named, which in so far as they bring into prominence individual elements in the spirit of Socrates to the detriment of the rest, revert to older lines of thought, long since passed in the historical development of philosophy. The Megarians and Cynics go back to the Eleatic doctrine of the One and All, and to the Sophistry of Gorgias; the Cyrenaics to the negative teaching of Protagoras, and to the early scepticism of Heraclitus.
Top ↑
Chapter XII. The Megarian and the Elean-Eretrian Schools
The Megarians
A. History of the School
The founder of the Megarian school 1 is Euclid. 2
1 Deycks, De Megaricorum Doctrina, Bonn, 1827, whose careful work has not been added to by Mallet’s Histoire de l’Ecole de Mégare, Par. 1845. More independent, but sometimes too diffuse, is Henne, Ecole de Mégare, Par. 1843. Ritter, Ueber die Philosophie der Meg. Schule in Rhein. Mus. ii. (1828), p. 295; Hartenstein, Ueber die Bedeutung der Meg. Schule für die Gesch. d. Metaphys. Probleme, Verhandl. der Sächs. Gesellschaft der Wissensch. 1848, p. 190; Prantl, Gesch. d. Logik, i. 33, which enters most deeply into the logical teaching of the Megarians.
2 Euclid’s home was Megara (Plato, Theaetet.; Phaedo, 59, C); that it was his birth-place is asserted by Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 129; Strabo, ix. 1, 8, p. 393; Diog. ii. 106. The statement that he came from Gela (τινὲς in Diog.) doubtless rests on a misunderstanding. Deycks, p. 4, imagines it arose from confounding him with Euclid the jester, γελοῖος, to whom, however, Athen. vi. 242, b, 250, e, does not give this epithet. Henne, p. 32, conjectures, but without sufficient reason, that he was educated at Gela. That he also possessed property in Attica, Grote, Plat. iii. 471, concludes, but without sufficient reason, from Dionys. Judic. de Isao, c. 14; Karpocrat. ὅτι τὰ ἐπικηρυττ. Poll. viii. 48. Dionysus only refers to a judicial speech of Isaeus πρός Εὐκλείδην apropos of a piece of land, but that this Euclid was the follower of Socrates is pure conjecture. The time of his birth cannot be accurately determined, nor does the anecdote in Gell. vi. 10 help for this. He was, however, probably older than Plato. This seems to be proved by the fact that on the death of Socrates he served for some time as a centre to his disciples. The time of his death is also uncertain. If Stilpo and Pasicles were his personal pupils, he must have lived at least till 360 BC; but this is very uncertain. On the whole little is known of him. A celebrated saying of his to his brother, which bears witness to a gentle character, is quoted by Plut. de Ira, 14, p. 462; Frat. Am. 18, p. 489; Stob. Flor. 84, 15; Diog. ii. 108, mentions six discourses of his.
|250| A faithful friend and admirer of Socrates, 1 but at the same time familiar with the Eleatic doctrine, 2 Euclid made use of the latter to develop the Socratic philosophy as he understood it. He thus established a separate branch of the Socratic School, 3 which continued to exist until the early part of the third century. 4 Ichthyas 5
1 The story told by Gell., N. A. vi. 10, of his nightly visits to Athens is well known. It cannot, however, go for much, though not in itself improbable. On the contrary, it may be gathered from Plato’s Theaetet. 142, C that Euclid constantly visited Socrates from Megara, and from the Phaedo, 59, C that he was present at his death. A further proof of his close connection with the followers of Socrates will be found in the fact (Diog. ii. 106; iii. 6) that Plato and other followers of Socrates stayed with him for a considerable time after the death of their master. He is usually spoken of as a disciple of Socrates, and has a place amongst his most distinguished disciples.
2 As may be gathered from his system with greater certainty than from Cic. and Diog. When Euclid became acquainted with the Eleatic Philosophy is uncertain. It is most probable that he was under its influence before he came under that of Socrates, although the story in Diog. ii. 30, is too uncertain to prove much.
3 The σχολὴ Εὺκλείδοι (for which the Cynic Diogenes in Diog. N. 34, substitutes Εὺκλείδου χολὴ), called Megarian or Eristic or Dialectic, Diog. ii. 106. Consult Deycks as to these names. He proves that the terms Eristic and Dialectic were not confined to the Megarian School. Compare Sextus Empiricus, who generally understands by Dialecticians, Stoics, for instance, Pyrrh. ii. 146, 166, 229, 235.
4 How early Euclid was at the head of a special circle of is named as his pupil and pupils, and whether he appeared. formally as a Sophist, or like Socrates only gradually gathered about him men desirous to learn, we are not told. Perhaps the emigration of many followers of Socrates to Megara gave occasion for the establishment of this school, i.e., for the formation of a society, which at first moved about Euclid’s house and person, busying itself with discussions. There is no ground for supposing that Plato and his friends removed to Megara, attracted by the fame of the School of Euclid, as Henne maintains, pp. 27 and 30.
5 Suid. Εὺκλείδης—Diog. ii. 112, only makes the general remark, that he belonged to the School of Euclid.
is named as his pupil and |251| successor, respecting whom, however, nothing further is known. 1 Of greater note was Eubulides, 2 the celebrated dialectician, 3 who wrote against Aristotle, 4 and who is mentioned as the teacher of Demosthenes. 5 Contemporary with him were Thrasymachus 6 of Corinth, and Dioclides, 7 perhaps also Clinomachus 8 Pasicles, 9 however, would appear to be younger. A pupil of Eubulides was Apollonius of Cyrene, surnamed Cronus, 10
1 His name is still found in Diog. ii. 112; vi. 80 (Diogenes dedicated to him a dialogue called Ichthyas). Athen. viii. 335, a.
2 Of Miletus according to Diog. ii. 108. Whether he was the head of a school, or whether he was an immediate disciple of Euclid, we do not know. Diogenes only says, τῆς δ' Εὺκλείδου διαδοχῆς ἐστι καὶ Εὐβ.
3 Compare Diog. ii. 108; Sext. Math. vii. 13.
4 Diog. ii. 109; Aristocles in Eus. Pr. Ev. xv. 2, 5; Athen. viii. 354, b. Themist. Or. xxiii. 285, c. From these passages it is seen that the attack of Eubulides was very violent, and not free from personal abuse. We also hear from Athen. x. 437 of a comedy of Eubulides. But he can hardly be the individual whose work on the Cynic Diogenes is quoted by Diog. vi. 20, 30.
5 The fact seems pretty well established (although it is conspicuously omitted by Plutarch in his life of Demosthenes), being not only attested by Diog. ii. 108; Pseudoplut. v. Dec. Orat. viii. 21; Apulei. De Mag. c. 15, p. 478; Suid. Δημοσθένης, and Phot. Cod. 265, but being also alluded to by the Comedian in Diog., who can hardly have called a bare acquaintance a disciple.
6 According to Diog. ii. 121, a friend of Ichthyas, and a teacher of Stilpo’s.
7 Suid. Στίλπων, a pupil of Euclid, and the teacher of Pasicles.
8 A Thurian (according to Diog. ii. 112), and a teacher of Stilpo’s son Bryso, Suid. Πύῤῥων, Diog. says he was the first to write on predicates, sentences, and such like.
9 According to Suid. Στίλπων, a brother of the Cynic Crates, who had also Dioclides, a pupil of Euclid’s, for teacher, and Stilpo for pupil. Diog. vi. 89, in calling Crates his brother and Euclid his teacher, probably confounded Euclid with Dioclides, unless this be the work of a transcriber and Διοκλείδον should be read for Εὺκλείδον.
10 Diog. ii. 111; Strabo, xiv. 2, 21, p. 658; xvii. 3, 22, p. 838.
the teacher of the |252| sharp-witted Diodorus Cronus, 1 and another of his pupils was Euphantus, known only to us as a poet and historian. 2
All other members of this school were, however, thrown into the shade by Stilpo, 3 a pupil of Thrasymachus.
1 Diodorus, a native of Iasos in Caria, belongs to the most distinguished dialecticians of the Megarian School. Cic. De Fato, 6, 12, calls him ‘valens dialecticus’; Sext. Math. i. 309, διαλεκτικάτατος. Sext. and Diog. ii. 111, give two epigrams of Callimachus addressed to him. His fallacies and his researches into motion, and into hypothetical sentences, will be mentioned hereafter. Pique at a dialectical defeat inflicted by Stilpo at the table of Ptolemy Soter, is said to have killed him (Diag.; Plin. Hist. Nat. vii. 53, 180). He bequeathed his dialectic to his five daughters; Clem. Al. Strom. iv. 623, A.; Hieron. adv. Jovin. i. t. iv. 186. His nickname, Kronos, is differently explained by Strabo and Diog., and in modern times by Panzerbieter in Jahn’s Jahrb. f. Philol. Supplement b. V. 223, f., who, however, does not explain it altogether satisfactorily. Consult, also, Steinhart in Ersch. und Gruber’s Encyclop. Sec. i. B., 25, p. 286.
2 All we know of him is from Diog. ii. 110, who calls him the tutor of King Antigonus, and says that to Antigonus he addressed a book, περὶ βασιλείας. Athen. vi. 251 quotes an extract from the fourth book of his history, in which if he has not made a gross mistake, πρώτου must be read for τρίτου. See Mallet, p. 96. Callicrates, also mentioned by Athenzus, is known from Diodor. xx. 21, as a favourite of Ptolemy Soter.
3 Stilpo of Megara (Diag. ii 113) must have lived until the end of the fourth century. At least he survived the capture of Megara by Ptolemy Lagi, and his defeat by Demetrius Poliorcetes, two events which happened 307 and 306 BC respectively, Diodor. xx. 37 and 465. On the former occasion the interview with Diodorus Cronus may have happened; for Stilpo never visited Egypt (Diog. 115). Since he died at an advanced age, we may approximately place his birth in 380, and his death in 300 BC. Probably we ought to place the date of both later, for the notices about his pupils in Diog. ii. 113-120, Senec. Epist. 10, 1, lead us to believe that his activity was contemporary with that of Theophrastus; and accordingly it cannot have begun long before the death of Aristotle. Suid. Εὐκλείδ. calls him successor to Ichthyas. Some of the pupils of Euclid are mentioned as his teachers, and (Diog. ii. 113), in particular Thrasymachus. (Suid. Εὐκλείδ. and Στίλπο.) Even Euclid himself is named by some, but none of these statements are probable. His character, as to which more will be said hereafter, is commended as upright, gentle, persevering, open, generous, and unselfish, Diog. ii. 117; Plut. Vit. Pud. c. 18, p. 536; adv. Col. 22, 1, p. 111, a. In early life dissipated, he entirely mastered this tendency by strength of will (Cic. De Fato, 5, 10). He also took part in public business, Diog. 114. Nine of his dialogues are mentioned by Diog. ii. 120.
|253| His spinited lectures made him an object of wonder to his catemporaries, and the crowds who flocked from all sides to listen to them gained for the Megarian School a lustre such as it had not hitherto enjoyed. 1 At the same time the development of their doctrine took with him a new turn, the principles of the Cynic School, into which Diogenes had initiated him, 2 being incorporated with his own to such an extent, that doubts may be felt whether Stilpo rather belongs to the Cynics or to the Megarians. 3 Thereby he became the immediate precursor of the Stoa, into which these two branches of the Socratic philosophy were carried over by his pupil Zeno. 4 Other Megarians, however, continued faithful to the exclusively critical character of this School.
1 Diog. ii. 113, exaggerates in saying, τοσοῦτον δ᾽ εὑρεσιλογίᾳ καὶ σοφιστείᾳ προῆγε τοὺς ἄλλους, ὥστε μικροῦ δεῆσαιπᾶσαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα ἀφορῶσαν εἰς αὐτὸν μεγαρίσαι. He also mentions (119 and 115) the pupils, who joined him from other philosophers, and the universal admiration bestowed on him at Athens and by several princes. It is all the more striking that Diog. 120 call his speeches ψυχροί.
2 Diog. vi. 76.
3 The proof of this will be given later.
4 That Zeno was a pupil of Stilpo is stated by Diog. ii. 120; vii. 2, 24, on the authority of Heraclides. The same person is no doubt referred to in Diog. ii. 116, as Zeno the Phoenician. The founder of the Stoa is frequently called a Phoenician, Diog. vii. 15, 25, 30. In no case can it be Zeno of Sidon, the pupil of Apollodorus, as Mallet, p. 62, supposes, who was himself a pupil of Epicurus, and who, according to Diog. x. 25, vii. 365, continued faithful to Epicureanism.
Alexinus of Elis, a |254| contemporary of Stilpo, 1 but somewhat younger, is notorious for his captiousness; and logical subtleties are recorded 2 of Philo, the pupil of Diodorus. 3 Other Megarians of this and the following age are only known to us by name. 4
1 Diog. ii. 109, speaks of him as a pupil of Eubulides (Μεταξὺ δὲ ἄλλων ὄντων τῆς Εὐβουλίδου διαδοχῆς Ἀλεξῖνος ἐγένετο Ἠλεῖος). The age in which he lived can be approximately determined by his disputes with Stilpo (Plat. Vit. Pud. c. 18, p. 536); with Menedemus (Diog. ii. 135), and with Zeno, whose strongest opponent he was, Diog. ii. 109; Sext. Math. ix. 108; Plat. Comm. Not. 10, 3, p. 1063. He must have been younger than Stilpo, and have flourished in the first ten years of the third century. His love of contention and his malicious ways gained for him the nickname Ἐλεγξῖνος {wrangler}, Diog. Plut. Vit. Pud. 18; Aristotle in Eus. Pr. Eu. xv. 2, 4. We also learn from Hermippus in Diog. that he retired to Olympia in his last years, in order to establish a new school there. This place of abode not suiting his pupils, he remained there alone, but soon died of an injury. For his writings consult Diog. ii. 110; vii. 163; Athen. xv. 696; Aristotle in Hus. l. c.
2 Diog. vii. 16, a passage which does not appear so ambiguous as Ritter, Rh. Mus. ii. 30; Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 145, would have it, particularly when the subsequent accounts are taken into consideration. Diog. relates that Zeno of Cittium was fond of his society; Clemens, Stromat. iv. 523, and Jerome adv. Jov. i., quote from his ‘Menexenus’ the information already given respecting the daughters of Diodorus, whom he must then have spoken of in terms of praise. It is a clear mistake on the part of Jerome to make him the teacher of Carneades. Still stranger is Mallet’s mistake, confounding the disputant Philo with Philo of Larissa, the founder of the fourth Academy. The latter lived some 150 to 200 years later. Nor can Philo be reckoned among the Stoics, although this has been done by Fabricius in Sext. Pyrrh. ii. 110, and by Prantl. Gesch. d. Logik, i. 404.
3 Diog. vii. 191, 194, mentions Philo’s writings περὶ σημασιῶν and περὶ τρόπων, against which Chrysippus wrote, without doubt meaning this Philo. To the same individual must be referred what Cic. Acad. ii. 47, 143, and Sext. Math. viii. 113, Pyrrh. ii. 110, say respecting his views of hypothetical sentences differring from those of Diodorus, and Alex. Aphi. in Anal. pr. 59, b, says respecting their differences in respect of the possible. By Diog. vii. 16, and Clemens he is surnamed ὁ διαλεκτικός.
4 A dialectician Panthoides, doubtless the same person as Sext. Math. vii. 13, mentions, and whose disagreement with Diodorus in respect of the possible (see p. 193, 1 and 2) Epictet. Diss. ii. 19, 5, speaks of, is mentioned by Diog. v. 68, as the teacher of the Peripatetic Lyco, and must therefore have flourished 280 to 270 BC. A dialectician Aristides is also mentioned by Diog. ii. 113, among the contemporaries of Stilpo, and an Aristotle living in Sicyon about 255 Plut. Arat. 3. Linias who is there mentioned with him appears also to have been a Megarian. Somewhat younger must have been Artemidorus, who wrote against Chrysippus, ix. 53.
With the verbal criticism of |255| the Megarians is connected Pyxrho’s philosophy of doubt, Pyrrho, whom Bryso is said to have taught, 1and Timon, who studied under Stilpo himself, 2 being the connecting links, in the same way that the scepticism of Gorgias is connected with the critical subtleties of the Eleatics.
B. Their Doctrine
The Megarian philosophy is only partially known to us from the fragmentary notices of the ancients; and frequently it is impossible to decide whether their statements refer to the founder and the older members, or only to the later followers of the School.
1 Diog. ix. 61; Πύρρων ἤκουσε Βρύσωνος τοῦ Στίλπωνος, ὡς Ἀλέξανδρος ἐν Διαδοχαῖς, Suid. Πύρρων: Βρύσωνος διεήκουσε, τοῦ, Κλεινομάχον μαθητοῦ. Instead of Bryso, Δρύσων was formerly read in Diog. Sext. Math. vii. 13, however also calls him Bryso. Suid. Πύρρων. These statements are not without their difficulties. Allowing it to be possible that Clinomachus and not Stilpo instructed Bryso, or that he enjoyed the instruction of both, the chronology is still troublesome. For how can Pyrrho, before Alexander’s expedition to Asia, as Diog. expressly says, have studied under the son of a man, whose own professional career probably comes after that expedition? It seems as though the relation of Pyrrho to Bryso as pupil and teacher were an imaginary combination, designed to connect the school of Pyrrho with the Megarian. Possible it also is that Bryso, the teacher of Pyrrho, has been wrongly identified with the son of this Stilpo. Suid. Σωκρατ. calls Bryso the teacher of Pyrrho, a pupil of Socrates, or according to others, a pupil of Euclid. Röper Philol. xxx. 462, proposes to read in the passage of Diog. instead of Βρύσωνος τοῦ Στίλπωνος, Βρύσ. ἢ Στίλπ.
|256| It is all the more satisfactory to be able to learn from Plato 1 particulars respecting a theory in which Schleiermacher 2 first recognised Megarian views, and which, in common with most writers, 3
1 1 Soph. 242, B. Plato defined Sophistry as the art of deception. The difficulty immediately arises, that deception is only then possible, when not-being, to which all deception refers, admits a certain kind of being. It may then be asked, how is the being of the not-being possible? To answer this question Plato reviews various opinions respecting being. In the first place he examines the two most opposite statements, that being is the many, and that it is the one, and after having shown that neither a manifoldness of original substances without a substratum of unity, nor the unity of the Eleatics excluding the many, can be admitted, he continues, p. 245, E: τοὺς μὲν τοίνυν διακριβολογουμένους ὄντος τε πέρι καὶ μή, πάντας μὲν οὐ διεληλύθαμεν, ὅμως δὲ ἱκανῶς ἐχέτω: τοὺς δὲ ἄλλως λέγοντας αὖ θεατέον. These are again divided into classes, those who only allow reality to what is material, and others who are called 248, A. οἱ τῶν εἰδῶν φίλοι. Of the latter it is stated 246, B: τοιγαροῦν οἱ πρὸς αὐτοὺς (the materialists) ἀμφισβητοῦντες μάλα εὐλαβῶς ἄνωθεν ἐξ ἀοράτου ποθὲν ἀμύνονται, νοητὰ ἄττα καὶ ἀσώματα εἴδη βιαζόμενοι τὴν ἀληθινὴν οὐσίαν εἶναι: τὰ δὲ ἐκείνων σώματα καὶ τὴν λεγομένην ὑπ᾽ αὐτῶν ἀλήθειαν κατὰ σμικρὰ διαθραύοντες ἐν τοῖς λόγοις γένεσιν ἀντ᾽ οὐσίας φερομένην τινὰ προσαγορεύουσιν.
2 Platon’s Werke, ii. 2.
3 Ast, Platon’s Leben u. Schreiben, 201; Deycks, 37; Heindorf on Soph. 246, B; Brandis, ii. a, 114; Hermann, Plat. 339; Ges. Abh. 246; Stallbaum, Plat. Parm. 60; Soph., f. Polit. 61; Susemihl, Genet. Entw. i. 298; Steinhart, Allg. Encyk. i. 29, 53; Platon’s Werke, iii. 204, 423, 554; Henne, Ecole de Mégare, 84-158; Prantl, Gesch. d. Log. i. 37. Against Schleiermacher are Ritter, Rhein. Mus. von Niebuhr und Brandis ii. 305; Petersen, Zeitschrift f. Alterthümer, 1836, 892, Henne, p. 49, and Mallet, p. xxx., refers the description in Theaetet. 185, C, of the formation of conceptions, to the Megarians, on the ground that it does not agree with Plato’s own method. But it would seem that he is wrong in so doing, since we have no reason to think of others besides Plato and Socrates. Just as little may the passage in Parm. 131, B. be referred to the Megarians, as has been done by Schleiermacher, Pl. Werke, i. 2, 409, and Deycks, p. 42. The question whether things participate in Ideas, is one which the Megarians did not examine, and it is widely remote from the view discussed in the Sophistes.
we feel justified|257| in applying to them. 1
1 The following are the reasons. It is clear and generally allowed that Plato’s description is too minute to be without reference to some philosophic School then existing. Even Deussen, De Plat. Sophistes Marb. 1869, p. 44, is reduced to admit this. There is also definite reference to a Socratic School in the passage where an opinion is attributed to certain philosophers, to the effect that true existence only belongs to immaterial things. A philosophy of conceptions was unknown before the time of Socrates, and the description agrees with no one of the pre-Socratic Schools. The philosophers of conceptions are clearly distinguished from the Eleatics, and are manifestly quite different from them. Still less can the Pythagoreans be thought of, as Mallet has done, p. liii.; for they had neither a philosophy of conceptions, nor did they indulge in that subtle refutation of opponents, which Plato attributes to these philosophers. Nor can the language of Plato, 246, C, be quoted to prove the contrary, where speaking of the dispute between the idealists and the materialists he says that: ἐν μέσῳ δὲ περὶ ταῦτα ἄπλετος ὀμφοτέρων μάχη τις ἀεὶ ξυνέστηκεν. This does not mean that this dispute has always existed, but that it was as old as the Schools themselves, or that, every time the point was touched upon, a violent altercation ensued between the parties. We are not obliged by this statement to refer this view to an earlier period than that of Socrates. And among the Socratic Schools there is none to which it can be attributed with so much probability as to the Megarian. Some think that the passage refers to Plato (as Socher, Plat. Schriften, 265, and Schaarschmidt, Die Sammlung der Plat. Sch., 210, do); and this reference commends itself most to those who with them declare that the Sophistes is not the work of Plato. The reference would of course be to an earlier form of Plato’s teaching or to such Platonists as had failed to advance with their school. This is the view of Ueberweg, Unters. Plat. Schrif. 277; Pilger, Ueber d. Athetese d. Plat. Soph. Berlin, 1869, 21; Grote, Plato, i. 458; iii. 482; Campbell, the Sophistes and Politicus of Plato, Soph. lxxiv. f. 125. But is it likely that Plato can have treated a theory of his own with so much irony as he lavishes, p. 246, A. B., on these εἰδῶν ϕίλοι? Is it Plato’s teaching, or have we reason for thinking that it ever was Plato’s teaching, that the δύναμις τοῦ ποιεῖν does not belong to Being but to the Becoming? In his system, as far as it is known to us, it does belong to the idea ef the good, to the creative νοῦς of Timaeus, to the αἰτία of Philebus, which must at any rate be reckoned as οὐσία and not as γένεσις, and in Phaedo 95, E, it belongs to ideas in general. Moreover, if the contested theory only belonged to a small portion of—Plato’s scholars, how could the little fraction be opposed to the materialists as the chief supporters of the idealistic point of view? Does not the whole description create the impression that the contrast was one which the writer saw before him, and not one made from different conceptions of his own metaphysic? It might seem that by friends of εἴδη in this passage Euclid cannot have been meant, because (1) according to Aristotle’s definite assertion (Metaph. i. 6, 987, b, 7; xii. 4, 1078, b, 9; Eth. N. 1. 4, 1096, a, 13) Plato first brought up the doctrine of ideas, and (2) the Megarians held one and not many primary substances. The first reason is not very cogent. Doubtless Plato first brought into notice the doctrine of ideas to which Aristotle refers, allowing that Euclid agreed with him in declaring the εἴδος to be the only real element in things. Neither is the second argument conclusive. Euclid may well in cases of materialism have insisted, that in every object the incorporeal form was the only real thing, and yet have gathered all these forms together under the one substance—the good. If the latter assertion involved him in contradiction with his original premises, the contradiction is not greater than that involved in denying every change, and yet speaking of an action, an ἐνεργεῖν of being. Indeed, how otherwise can he have advanced from the Socratic philosophy of conceptions to his doctrine of unity? And does not the language of the Sophistes, 246, B, telling, how that the friends of ideas destroy matter by resolving it into its smallest particles, best correspond with Euclid and his school? Does it not best harmonise with the statement of Aristocles respecting the Megarians, that the latter should have refused to being the capacity to act or to suffer? whereas this would not at all harmonise with Plato. That these philosophers are included 245, E., among those ἄλλως λέγοντες is not true, ἄλλως λέγοντες meaning here literally those who speak differently, with whom all does not turn (as with the philosophers mentioned 243, D) upon the antithesis of being and not-being. With the philosophers to whom Plato comes 245, E., the question is not whether there is one or more than one form of being, everything else being not-being, but whether there is only the corporeal or the incorporeal. Conf. p. 243, D, with 246, A. Compare Henne, 105; Bonitz, Plat. Stud. ii. 49. In the explanation of διακριβολογουμένους, no one appears to have exactly hit the mark.
By making use of the testimony of Plato, and by considering the inward |258| connection of the several doctrines, we hope a picture will be produced of the Megarian doctrine, |259| which shall, in the main, faithfully represent the facts.
(1) Conception of being and becoming. The starting-point of the Megarian philosophy must be looked for in Socrates’ demand for a knowledge of conceptions. With this demand Euclid combined the Eleatic doctrine of a contrast between sensational and rational knowledge. Distinguishing these two kinds of knowledge far more by their objects than by their form, he arrived at the conviction that the senses show us what is capable of change and becoming, and that only thought can supply us with the knowledge of what is unchangeable and really existing. 1 He stood, therefore, in general, on the same footing as Plato, and it is possible that this view was arrived at by both philosophers in common in their intellectual intercourse, and that owing to Plato Euclid was influenced by Heraclitus’ view of the world of sense. Socrates had indeed made the immediate business of thought to be the acquisition of a knowledge of conceptions. Conceptions, accordingly, represent that part of a thing which never changes. Not material things, but only incorporeal species, taught Euclid, admit of true being. 2
1 Plato, 248, A.: γένεσιν, τὴν δὲ οὐσίαν χωρίς που διελόμενοι λέγετε; ἦ γάρ;—ναί.—καὶ σώματι μὲν ἡμᾶς γενέσει δι᾽ αἰσθήσεως κοινωνεῖν, διὰ λογισμοῦ δὲ ψυχῇ πρὸς τὴν ὄντως οὐσίαν, ἣν ἀεὶ κατὰ ταὐτὰ ὡσαύτως ἔχειν φατέ, γένεσιν δὲ ἄλλοτε ἄλλως. For this reason Aristoc. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 17, 1, says of the Megarians and Eleatics together: οἴοντα γὰρ δεῖν τὰς μὲν αἰσθήσεις καὶ ϕαντασίας καταβάλλειν, αὐτῷ δὲ μόνον τῷ λογῳ πιστεύειν.
2 In the passage of the Soph. 246, B., quoted at p. 214, 2, in which the words τὰ δὲ ἐκείνων σώματα must not be taken to mean ‘the bodies of those conceptions,’ εἴδη ἀσώματα, but ‘the bodies of the materialists,’ in which they look for all real being.
The |260| same view Stilpo expressed, when he refused to allow the general conception to apply to individual things, on the ground that a general conception implies something quite different from every individual thing, and not like these only existing from a definite time. 1 In this respect the Megarians again agree with Plato. 2 Whilst Plato, however, regarded species as living spiritual forces, Euclid, following in the steps of Parmenides, denied every kind of motion to being. He, therefore, reduced action and passion to the sphere of the becoming. Of being, he asserted, you can neither predicate action, nor passion, nor yet motion. 3
1 Diog. ii. 119, says of him: ἔλεγε τὸν λέγοντα ἄνθρωπον εἶναι μηδένα (in which we suggest εὶπεῖν instead of εἶναι:), οὔτε γὰρ τόνδε εἶναι οὔτε τόνδε: τί γὰρ μᾶλλον τόνδε ἢ τόνδε; οὐδ᾽ ἄρα τόνδε. καὶ πάλιν: τὸ λάχανον οὐκ ἔστι τὸ δεικνύμενον. λάχανον μὲν γὰρ ἦν πρὸ μυρίων ἐτῶν: οὐκ ἄρα ἐστὶ τοῦτο λάχανον. Diogenes introduces this with the remark: δεινὸς δ᾽ ἄγαν ὢν ἐν τοῖς ἐριστικοῖς ἀνῄρει καὶ τὰ εἴδη, and it would in itself be possible, that Stilpo and others had derived their hostility to general conceptions, and especially to the Platonic ideas, from the Cynic School. But the above examples are not directed against the reality of groups expressed by a general conception, but against the reality of particular things. Stilpo denies that the individual is a man, because the expression man means something universal and different from any particular man. He denies that what is shown to him is cabbage, because there was cabbage 10,000 years ago; in other words, because the general conception of cabbage means something unchangeable, not something which has come into being. We may then believe with Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 123, and Stallbaum, Plat. Parm. 65, that either Diogenes or his authority must have made some mistake here.
2 Probably expressions like ‘Hi quoque multa in Platone,’ said of the Megarians by Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 129, refer to such points of similarity.
3 Plato, Soph. 248, C.: λέγουσιν, ὅτι γενέσει μὲν μέτεστι τοῦ πάσχειν καὶ ποιεῖν δυνάμεως, πρὸς δὲ οὐσίαν τούτων οὐδετέρου τὴν δύναμιν ἁρμόττειν φασίν. It is accordingly afterwards repeatedly stated as their view: [τὸ παντελῶς ὂν] ὰκίνητον ἑστὸς εἷναι. ὰκίνητον τὸ παράπαν ἑτάναι, and in opposition to this view Plato requires: ἄὶ τὸ κινούμενον δὴ καὶ κίνησιν συγχωρητέον ὡς ὄντα...μήτε τῶν ἓν ἢ καὶ τὰ πολλὰ [249δ] εἴδη λεγόντων τὸ πᾶν ἑστηκὸς ἀποδέχεσθαι:—Aristocl. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 17, 1. The proofs by which the Megarians denied motion will be described hereafter. It does not, however, seem likely that the objections raised to the theory of ideas in the first part of Plato’s Parmenides are of Megarian origin, as Stallbaum, Pl. Parm. 57 and 65, supposes.
|261| Connected with this denial of the becoming is the assertion, probably coming from Euclid, certainly from his school, that capacity does not exist beyond the time of its exercise; and that thus what is actual is alone possible. 1 What is simply possible but not actual, would at the same time be and not be. Here would be the very contradiction which Parmenides thought to discover in the becoming, and the change from the possible to the actual would be one of those changes which Euclid could not harmonise with the conception of being. 2
1 Arist. Metaph. ix. 3: εἰσὶ δέ τινες οἵ φασιν, οἷον οἱ Μεγαρικοί, ὅταν ἐνεργῇ μόνον δύνασθαι, ὅταν δὲ μὴ ἐνεργῇ οὐ δύνασθαι, οἷον τὸν μὴ οἰκοδομοῦντα οὐ δύνασθαι οἰκοδομεῖν, ἀλλὰ τὸν οἰκοδομοῦντα ὅταν οἰκοδομῇ: ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ἄλλων. In refuting this statement Aristotle observes that it would make all motion and becoming impossible; which was just what the Megarians wanted. Further particulars on this point will be quoted from Diodorus in the sequel. The passage in the Sophistes, 248, C, which Henne, p. 133, connects with that of Aristotle, refers to something different.
2 Hartenstein, p. 205, is of opinion that the above statement is made in direct contradiction to Aristotle. It would in this case belong to Eubulides. But the Aristotelian technical terms δύνασθαι, ἐνέργεῖν, do not prove much. Aristotle often expressed the statements of others in his own terminology. On the other hand, no very great importance for the system of Aristotle must be attached to the Megarian doctrine already quoted, even if it comes from Euclid. It is only a peculiar way of understanding the Eleatic doctrine against becoming and motion. Still less can we here support the Megarians against Aristotle as Grote, Plato, iii. 491, does: because a builder without materials, tools and intentions, cannot build, and when these and other conditions are there, must build. For this is not at all the point on which the dispute between Aristotle and the Megarians turns. Aristotle on the contrary says in the connection of the above enquiry (Metaph. iv. 5, c. 7; 1049, a. 5), that if the necessary conditions for the exercise of a capacity are given (among which besides the δυνάμεις λογικαὶ the intention must be included), its exercise always follows. This, according to Grote, is likewise the meaning of the Megarian sentence, which he disputes. Its real meaning—that a capacity until it shows itself by action is not only kept in abeyance by the absence of the necessary means and conditions, but is not even existing—may be gathered from the objections urged by Aristotle, c. 3, and from the quotations, p. 230, 2. Grote to defend the Megarians attributes to them reflections, which we have no right to attribute to them.
Hence, only what is immaterial |262| and unchangeable is allowed by him to be actual and unchangeable is allowed by him to be actual, and is regarded by him as the subject matter of science.
(2) The Good. Socrates had described the good as the highest object of knowledge. 1 In this he was followed by Euclid. 2 Regarding, however, that which is most essentially real as the highest object of knowledge in accordance with his principles, Euclid thought himself justified in transferring to the good all the attributes which Parmenides had assigned to real being. One only real good is there, unchangeable, ever the same, of which our highest conceptions are only different names.
1 See p. 133 and 147.
2 That his assertions about the good should have nothing to do with the Socratic knowledge (Hermann, Ges. Abhandlung, 242) could only be accepted on the supposition that that knowledge was not knowledge about the good, and that Euclid was not a pupil of Socrates. Nor can it be readily concedec that a pure Eleatic philosopher, if he had only moved in an ethical sphere of ideas, would have treated this part of philosophy in the same way as Euclid. As long as he remained a pure Eleatic philosopher, he could not have taken this ethical direction and have placed the conception of the good at the head of his system.
Whether we speak of God, or of Intelligence, or of Reason, we always mean one |263| and the same thing, the Good. 1 For the same reason the moral aim, as Socrates had already shown, is always one—the. knowledge of the Good,—and if we speak of many virtues, all these are but varying names for one and the same virtue. 2
What, however, is the relation of other things to this one Good? Even Euclid, as accounts tell us, denied any existence to what is not good; 3 from which it follows immediately, that besides the Good nothing real exists. This statement is on better authority attributed to the later Megarian School. 4 Therewith many conceptions, the reality of which had been originally assumed, were destroyed as such, and reduced, in as far as any reality was admitted about them, to mere names of the Good. 5
1 Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 129: Megarici qui id bonum solum esse dicebant, quod esset unum et simile et idem semper (οἶον, ὅμοιον ταὐτόν). Diog. ii. 106, says of Euclid: οὗτος ἓν τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἀπεφαίνετο πολλοῖς ὀνόμασι καλούμενον: ὁτὲ μὲν γὰρ φρόνησιν, ὁτὲ δὲ θεόν, καὶ ἄλλοτε νοῦν καὶ τὰ λοιπά.
2 Diog. vii. 161, says of the Stoic Aristo: ἀρετάς τ᾽ οὔτε πολλὰς εἰσῆγεν, ὡς ὁ Ζήνων, οὔτε μίαν πολλοῖς ὀνόμασι καλουμένην, ὡς οἱ Μεγαρικοί. That this one virtue was the knowledge of the good, appears not only from the internal connection of the system and its external relation to Socrates, but also from Cicero l. c. who asserts: a Menedemo autem...Eretriaci appellati; quorum omne bonum in mente positum et mentis acie, qua verum cerneretur. Illi (the Megarians) similia, sed, opinor, explicata uberins et ornatius. Conf. Plato, Rep. vi. 505, B., in which Antisthenes is mentioned in addition to Euclid.
3 Diog. ii. 106: τὰ δ᾽ ἀντικείμενα τῷ ἀγαθῷ ἀνῄρει, μὴ εἶναι φάσκων.
4 Arist. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 17, 1: Stilpo and the Megarics maintain that ‘being’ is one, and that the ‘other’ does not exist, and that nothing is generated, and nothing perishes, nor is moved at all. Arist. Metaph. xiv. 4; 1091, b, 13, refers to Plato, and can hardly be applied to the Megarians.
5 Prantl’s view, p. 35, that the conceptions of the Megarians must invariably have a nominalistic meaning, does not agree with the statements of Plato. If the Megarians declared conceptions and only conceptions to be ἀληθινή οὐσία, surely they were Realists, not Nominalists. Not even Stilpo can, accordingly, be called a Nominalist. He had, moreover, absorbed too much of the Cynic doctrines for us to be able to form from him any conclusion respecting the original Megarian views.
Here, |264| probably, traces of gradual development in the Megarian doctrine are to be found. Euclid apparently first spoke of a plurality of essential conceptions in contrast to objects of sense, and this form of teaching belongs primarily to a time in which his system was being developed out of this contrast. 1 At a later period the Megarians appear to have used the manifoldness of conceptions for the purpose of attacking popular notions, 2 otherwise keeping it in the background, and confining themselves to the essential oneness of being and the Good. Inconsistent, no doubt, they were; yet we can understand how they became involved in this contradiction by gradually pushing the Socratic theory of conceptions to the abstract doctrine of the Eleatic One. 3
1 Plato, at least in the passage before quoted, does not mention a good which is One. On the contrary, he speaks of his philosophers of conceptions differing from the Eleatics in assuming many conceptions.
2 See p. 260, 1.
3 Henne, p. 121, tries to get over the difficulty in another way. The Megarians, he believes, attributed being to each particular idea, in as far as it was aunity, and various conceptions were used by them to express various kinds of the good. But this very point—the being of various kinds of good—was what the Megarians denied. Starting with the oneness of being they cannot have arrived at the notion of a manifoldness of conceptions, since this oneness excludes in its abstract form any development or subordinate distinction. But it is quite possible that the Socratic conceptions may gradually have been lost in the Eleatic unity.
C. Eristic
The sharper the contrast which they presented |265| to the current mode of thought, the greater became the necessity of fortifying their own position against assault. Here again they had only to follow the example of the Eleatics. To prove the soundness of their position directly, as Parmenides had done, was no easy matter. More important results might be expected, if their opponents’ ground was assailed by the criticism of Zeno and Gorgias. From Zeno the founder of the School had appropriated the Eleatic doctrine precisely in this its critical function, Zeno and the Sophists being the principal persons who drew attention hereto in central Greece. This path of criticism the Megarians now struck out with such preference, that the whole school herefrom derived its name. 1
(1) That of Euclid. We are assured by Diogenes 2 that it was the practice even of Euclid, to attack conclusions and not premises—in other words, to refute by a reductio ad absurdum. It is also said that Euclid 3 rejected explanations by analogies—a form much used by Socrates—because a similar thing when cited makes nothing clearer, and a dissimilar thing is irrelevant.
1 See p. 250, 3.
2 ii. 107: Ταῖς τε ἀποδείξεσιν ἐνίστατο οὐ κατὰ λήμματα, ἀλλὰ κατ᾽ ἐπιφοράν. Since in Stoical terminology—which we are of course not justified in ascribing to Euclid on the strength of this passage—λῆμμα means the major premiss, or more often both premises, and ἐπιϕορὰ the conclusion (Deycks, 34; Prantl, 470), it is most probable that the meaning given above is the real meaning of these words.
3 Ibid. καὶ τὸν διὰ παραβολῆς λόγον ἀνῄρει, λέγων ἤτοι ἐξ ὁμοίων αὐτὸν ἢ ἐξ ἀνομοίων συνίστασθαι: καὶ εἰ μὲν ἐξ ὁμοίων, περὶ αὐτὰ δεῖν μᾶλλον ἢ οἷς ὅμοιά ἐστιν ἀναστρέφεσθαι, εἰ δ᾽ ἐξ ἀνομοίων, παρέλκειν τὴν παράθεσιν.
The most telling description of Euclid’s method will probably be found in Plato, who, speaking |266| in the Sophistes of the philosophers of conceptions, says that in their discourses they destroy matter piecemeal, in order to prove that it has no real being but is subject to flux and change. 1 This is exactly the line which Zeno adopted, in order to prove the uncertainty of the perceptions of the senses; 2 and which we notice also in the Sorites of the later Megarians: the apparently substantial bodily mass is divided into its component parts, and there being no limit to the division, and no ultimate atom on which contemplation can rest, it is argued that matter must be itself unreal, and a mere passing phenomenon. Euclid is accordingly rightly regarded as the founder of the Megarian criticism. Still, with him criticism does not seem to have attained the character of formal captiousness, although objectionmay be taken to his controversial tone: 3 it would appear that, like Zeno before him, he was primarily anxious to maintain his positive principles, and that he only used the subtleties of argument as a means to this end. Nothing, at least, is known of him which would lead to an opposite conclusion, nor is any one of the quibbling fallacies laid to his charge, for which the Megarian school was afterwards notorious.
1 See p. 256, 1; 259, 2.
2 See Zeller, G. d. Griech. Part I., 496.
3 According to Diog. ii. 30, Socrates had already observed, that because of his captiousness, he might associate possibly with Sophists, but not with human beings. But this statement proves but little, since it uses the term Sophist in a way peculiar to post-Socratic times. It is more worthy of belief (Diog. ii. 107) that Timon called him a quarrelsome person, who introduced amongst the Megarians a rage for disputes.
|267| Among the immediate successors of Euclid, however, the element of captiousness prevailed over positive teaching. Such teaching as they had was too scanty to command attention for long, and too abstract to admit of further development. On the other hand a polemic against prevailing opinions presented to the sharp-witted, to the contentious, and to those ambitious of intellectual distinction, an unexplored field, over which the Megarians eagerly ranged. 1 Not seldom their metaphysical assumptions served only as occasions for hard-fighting with words.
(2) The eristic of Eubulides. Among the fallacies which are attributed to Eubulides, 2
1 The ordinary form of these captious proofs is that of asking questions. Hence the regular expression: λόγον ἐρωτᾶν (to raise a point) in Diog. ii. 108; 116; Sext. Math. x. 87; and the Μεγαρικὰ ἐρωτήματα in the fragment of Chrysippus; in Plut. Sto. Rep. 10, 9, p. 1036. Conf. Arist. Phys. viii. 8; 263, a, 4, 7; Anal. Pr. ii. 19, 66, a, 26; 36; i. 32, 47, a, 21. But like the Sophists, they refused every answer but Yes or No. Diog, ii. 135.
2 Diog. ii. 108, enumerates 7: that called ψευδόμενος, that called διαλανθάνων, the Electra, the ἐγκεκαλυμένος, the σωρίτης, the κερατίνης, the ϕαλακρός. The first of them is given as follows in Arist. Soph. El. 25, 180, a, 34, b, 2; Alex. ad loc. Cic. Acad. ii. 29, 95: If a man says he is at the moment telling a lie, is he telling a lie, or is he speaking truth? The διαλανθάνων, the ἐγκεκαλυμμένος, and the Electra are only different forms of the same fallacy. Do you know who is concealed? Do you know who is behind the veil? Did Electra know her brother before he announced himself to her? and the solution of them all consists in the fact, that he who was concealed, or behind the veil, or had not yet announced himself respectively, was known to, but not immediately recognised by, the lookers on. See Arist. 8. El. c. 24, 179, a, 33; Alex. in loc. and 49; Lucian, Vit. Auct. 22, and Prantl. Then κερατίνης is as follows: Have you lost your horns? If you say Yes, you allow that you had horns. If you say No, you allow that you have them still. Diog, vii. 187; vi. 38; Seneca, Ep. 45, 8; Gell. xvi. 2, 9; Prantl, p.53. The Sorites consists in the question: How many grains make a heap? or more generally: With what number does Many begin? Of course it is impossible to assign a number. See Cic. Acad. ii. 28, 92; 16, 49; Diog. vii. 82; Pers. Sat. vi. 78; Prantl, 7. 54. The ϕαλακρὸς is another form of the same: How many hairs must: you lose to become a bald-head? See Hor. Ep. ii. 1, 45; Prantl, l. c.; Deycks, 51.
though they probably belong to an earlier |268| time, 1 only one, the Sorites, has any intelligible relation to their metaphysics. By means of this form of argument it could be proved that no enduring being belongs to objects of sense, but that every such object: passes into its opposite, and represents what is changing, and not what is real and unchangeable. 2 The rest appear to be simple sophisms, having no other object than to involve opponents in difficulties, 3 critical works of art, which made indeed the need felt of an accurate investigation into the laws of thought, but in the pursuit of which the desire of conducing to a right intellectual method by pointing out difficulties and refuting untenable opinions falls altogether into the background.
1 There are, for instance, indications of the Sorites in Zeno and Euclid. In general it is difficult to say who are the discoverers of quibbles, which are taken seriously at the time they are produced, but are after all only bad jokes. Seneca, Ep. 45, 10, says that many books had been written on the ψευδόμενος, among which those of Theophrastus and Chrysippus are known to us from Diog. vii. 196; v. 49. Chrysippus, according to Diog. vii. 198, 192, also wrote on the διαλανθάνων, the ἐγκεκαλυμμένος, and the σωρίτης. Philetus of Cos is said to have worked himself to death in writing about the ψευδόμενος, Athen. ix. 401, e. The κερατίνης and ἐγκεκαλυμμένος were also attributed to Diodorus (Diog. ii. 111), and the former (Diag. vii. 187) as also the Sorites (Diog. vii. 82) to Chrysippus, certainly without reason to Chrysippus.
2 Compare what will be later said about Diodorus’ proofs in denying motion.
3 The motive which Prantl, p. 52, sees in the ἐγκεκαλυμμένος is not so patent, and the assumptions of Brandis, p. 122, do not seem accurate.
(3) That of Alexinus. The powers of Alexinus in argument seem to |269| have been of a similar kind. He, at least, is only known to us as a captious disputant. 1 Nothing further is known of him beyond an argument in which he vainly attempted to entangle Menedemus in what is called the ‘horned’ fallacy, 2 and a refutation of Xenophon’s proofs of the reasonable arrangement of the world, 3 which was subsequently repeated by the Academicians. 4 In close connection with the Megarian doctrines may be placed the discussions of Diodorus on motion and destruction, on the possible, and on hypothetical sentences.
(4) That of Diodorus. Tradition has preserved four arguments, by which Diodorus attempted to support the fundamental teaching of his school on the impossibility of motion.
(a) On motion. The first, 5 which in the main is the same as that of Zeno, is as follows. Supposing anything to move, it must either move in the space in which it is, or in the space in which it is not. In the former it has not room to move, because it entirely fills it; in the latter it can neither act nor be acted upon; hence motion is inconceivable. 6
1 See p. 254, 1.
2 In Diog. ii. 135.
3 Sext. Math. ix. 107: Zeno had concluded, because the world is the best possible, and reason is higher than the absence of reason, that the world must have reason. See Cic. De N. D. ii. 8, 21; iii. 9, 22. To this Alexinus replied: τὸ ποιητικτὸν τοῦ μὴ ποιητικοῦ καὶ τὸ γραμματικόν τοῦ μὴ γραμματικοῦ κρεῖττόν ἐστι. καὶ τὸ κατὰ τὰς ἄλλας τέχνας θεωρούμενον κρεῖττόν τὸν ἐστι τοῦ μὴ τοιουτοου ουδε ἕν δὲ κόσμου κρεῖττόν ἐστι. ποιητικὸν ἄρα καὶ γραμματικόν ἐστιν ὁ κόσμος.
4 Cic. N. D. iii. 8, 21; 10, 26; 11, 27.
5 Sext. Pyrrh. ii. 242; iii. 71; Math. x. 85; i. 311.
6 Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 243, mentions a similar argument against becoming in general, in immediate connection with the proof given above: Neither can what is come into being, for it exists already; nor can what is not, for nothing can happen to it; consequently nothing at all is. It is possible that this argument also belongs to Diodorus. But Steinhart is wrong in attributing to him (Allg. Encykl Sect. i. vol. xxv. p. 288) the distinction between space in the wider and in the narrower sense, which is found in Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 75; Math. x. 95, since it would appear from these passages that the distinction was made with a view to meet Diodorus’ objections.
The second is a less |270| accurate form of the same proof. 1 All that moves is in space: Whats in space reposes: Therefore what is moved reposes. A third proof 2 is based on the assumption of infinitesimal atoms and particles. It is generally attributed to Diodorus. 3 Probably he only used it hypothetically, as Zeno did his argument, to refute ordinary notions. 4 It is this: As long as the particle a is in the corresponding space a, it does not move, because it completely fills it. Just as little does it move when it is in the next following space, B; for no sooner is it there than its motion has ceased. Accordingly it does not move at all. In this conclusion one cannot fail to discover the note of Zeno’s inferences, and of that critical process which had been already described by Plato. 5 The fourth proof, 6 besides assuming the existence of atoms, distinguishes between partial and complete motion. 7
1 Sext. Math. x. 112.
2 Id. x. 143 and 119. Alexander, too, De Sensu, 125, b, mentions Diodorus, λόγος περὶ τῶν ἀμερῶν.
3 Id. ix. 8362; Pyrrh. iii. 32; Dionys. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 23, 4; Stob. Ecl. i. 103; Pseudo-clement, Recogn. viii. 15, all of which point to one common source. Simpl. Phys. 216, b; Schol. in Arist. 405, a, 21. Diodorus called these atoms ἀμερῆ.
4 Even the first proof, according to Sext. Math. x. 85, was put in such a shape as to prove that every atom fully occupied its space; but this is unimportant here.
5 See p. 265.
6 Sext. Math. x. 113.
7 κίνησις κατ' ἐπικράτειαν and κίνησις κατ' εὶλικρίνειαν
Every moving body must first have the majority of |271| its particles moved, before it can move as a whole; that it should move with the majority is, however, not conceivable,. For supposing a body to consist of three atoms, two of which move whilst the third is at rest, such a body must move, because the majority of its particles move. The same applies, when a fourth atom at rest is added: for the body being moved κατ' ἐπικράτειαν, the three atoms of which it consists are moved, consequently the fourth at rest is added to the three moving atoms. Why not equally when a fifth and a sixth atom is added? So that a body consisting of 10,000 particles must be moved, if only two of these first move. If this is, however, absurd, a movement of the majority of particles is therefore inconceivable, and therefore a movement of the whole body. That there is an inconclusiveness in this argument Sextus has already noticed. 1 Diodorus, however, appears to have considered it unanswerable, and hence, he concludes all his researches by saying that it never can be said of a thing, It is moving, but only, It has moved. 2 He was, in other words, prepared to allow what the senses seemed to prove, 3 that a body is now in one place and now in another, but he declared the transition from the one to the other to be impossible.
1 Sext. Math. x. 112, 118. A further argument, the first argument of Zeno’s, is not attributed to Diodorus by Sext. Math. x. 47. He only says as to its result, that Diodorus agreed therein with the Eleatics.
2 Sext. Math. x. 48; 85; 91; 97-102.
3 This reason is specially mentioned by Sext. Math. x. 86.
This is indeed a contradiction, and as such it was |272| laid to his charge by the ancients, and by him very inadequately met. 1 At the same time it is a deviation from the original teaching of his school. Euclid denied motion absolutely, and would just as little have allowed a completed motion as a transition in the present.
(b) On Destruction. With the third of these arguments agrees substantially the argument of Diodorus that nothing perishes. It is as follows. A Wall, he says, does not perish; so long as the stones keep together, it stands; but when the stones are separated it no longer exists. 2 That it may however have perished, he appears to have likewise allowed.
(c) On the Possible. Closely related to the enquiry into motion, are his discussions on what is possible. In both cases the conceivability of change is the point raised, but in one case it is raised in reference to something, in the other abstractedly. In both cases, Diodorus stands on exactly the same footing with regard to his School. The older Megarians allowed as possible only what actually is, understanding by actual what was before them in the present. 3 To this Diodorus added what might be in the future, by saying: Possible is what either is actual or what will be actual. 4
1 See Sext.91,97. Diodorus here proves the assertion that anything predicated of the past may be true, whilst it is not true predicated of the present by such irrelevant statements as that it can be said of Helen that she had three husbands (one after another), but never that she has three (contemporaneously). This example is sufficient to show how erroneous Grote’s view (Plato iii. 501) is, that Diodorus only intended to assert that present motion is only the transition point between the past and the present.
2 Sext. Math. x. 347.
3 See p. 261.
4 Cic. De Fato, 6, 12; 7, 13; 9, 17; Ep. ad Fam. ix. 4; Plut. Sto. Rep. 46, p. 1055; Alea. Aph. in Anal. Pr. 59, b; Schol. in Arist. 163, b, 29; Simpl. ibid. 65, b, 7; Philip, ibid. 163, b, 19; Boeks, de Interpret. Op. ed. Basil, 364; Prantl, Gesch. d. Log. i. 19. The above sentence is expressed here thus: Possible is ὅπερ ἢ ἐστιν ἀληθὲς ἢ ἔσται.
|273| In proof of this statement he used an argument, which goes by the name of κυριεύω and is still admired after centuries, 1 as a masterpiece of subtle criticism. It is in the main as follows: From anything possible nothing impossible can result; 2 but it is impossible that the past can be different from what it is; for had this been possible at a past moment, something impossible would have resulted from something possible. It was therefore never possible. And speaking generally it is impossible that anything should happen differently from what has happened. 3
1 Comp. Epict. Diss. ii. 18, 18: we ought to be proud of moral actions. He also mentions, ii. 19, 9, treatises of Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Antipater, and Archidemus on the κυριεύω. Chrysippus could only meet it (according to Alex. in Anal. Pr. 57, b, in Schol. in Arist. 163, a, 8), by asserting that possibly the impossible might result from the possible. Other passages are quoted by Prantl, p. 40, 36.
2 So ἀκολουθεῖν is rendered, thus keeping up the ambiguity of the original, where ἀκολουθεῖν means not only sequence in time, but causal sequence.
3 Epict. Diss. ii. 19, 1. Conf. Cic. De Fato, 6.
(5) That of Philo. (a) On the Possible. Far less exacting was Philo, a pupil of Diodorus, when he declared everything to be possible, even should outward circumstances prevent it from being |274| realised, 1 provided a thing has only the capacity therefor. This was undeniably a departure from the Megarian teaching.
(b) On hypothetical sentences. In regard, too, to the truth of hypothetical sentences, Philo laid down criteria different from those of his teacher. 2 Diodorus declared those conditional sentences to be true, in which the apodosis neither can be false, nor ever could be false if only the protasis be true. Philo says more vaguely, those are true in which there is not a true protasis and a false apodosis. The question here appears, however, to have been one of formal correctness in expressing logical rules. 3
(c) On the meaning of words. With Diodorus’ view of the possible the assertion appears to be connected, that no words are meaningless or ambiguous, each one always meaning something, and everyone requiring to be understood according to this meaning: 4 he will only allow that meaning of a word to be possible which is actually present to the speaker’s mind.
1 Alex.-Simpl. in Categ. Schol. in Arist. 65, a, 39, b, 6; Boeks, l. c. Panthoides, according to pict. Diss. ii. 19, 5, attempted by another turn to avoid Diodorus’ argument, by disputing the sentence that everything past must be of necessity.
2 See Sext. Pyrrh. ii. 110; Math. viii. 113; i. 809; Cic. Acad. iv. 47, 143.
3 The inferences by which Sextus, M. viii. 115, refutes Philo, do not affect his real meaning at all, however much they may follow from the words of his definition. Hence Prantl, p. 454, can hardly have quite grasped the meaning of Philo.
4 Gell. xi. 12; Ammon., De Interpret. 32, a; Schol. in Arist. 1103, b, 15; Simpl. Categ. f. 6, h. In order to show that every word has a meaning, Diodorus, according to Ammon., gave the name ἀλλαμὴν to one of his slaves.
Respecting Diodorus, however, and the whole Megarian School, our information |275| is far too scanty to enable us to bring the fragments of their teaching into a perfectly satisfactory context, 1 granting that enough is known to evidence one and the same tendency in all these thinkers. It may then be assumed as probable, that the Megarians did not confine themselves to those logical subtleties which are known to us; our notices are, however, too deficient for us to be able to attribute others to them with anything like certainty. 2
(6) That of Stilpo, which adopted much from the Cynics. (a) Every combination of subject and predicate rejected as impossible. A peculiar position in the Megarian philosophy is that occupied by Stilpo. Ever ready to defend the teaching of the School at the head of which he stood, clinging to universal conceptions, maintaining the impossibility of becoming, the unity of being, 3 and the difference between sensuous and rational perceptions, 4 he at the same time combines with his Megarian views theories and aims which originally belonged to the Cynics.
1 Ritter’s (Rh. Mus. ii. 310, Gesch. der. Phil. 13. 140) conjectures seem in many respects to go beyond historical probability, and beyond the spirit of the Megarian teaching. To illustrate this here would take too long.
2 Prantl, p. 43, believes that the majority of the sophisms enumerated by Aristotle really belong to the Megarians. Most of them, however, would appear to come from the Sophists; in proof of which a reference may be made to Plato’s Euthydemus, which can hardly have the Megarians in view. Towards Euclid Plato would not have used such language, as may be gathered from the Sophistes, 246, C, and the introduction to the Thesetetus; and Eubulides had not appeared when Plato composed the Euthydemus. That the Megarians made use of many of the Sophistic fallacies, is of course not denied. Only nothing for certain is known of such use.
3 See pp. 260, 3; 263, 4.
4 Compare the passage in Aristocles quoted p. 259, 1, in which οἱ περὶ Στίλπωυνα καὶ τοὺς μεγαρπικοὺς are spoken of in addition to the Eleatics.
In the first place he rejected, as did |276| Antisthenes, every combination of subject and predicate, since the conception of the one is different from the conception of the other, and two things with different conceptions can never be declared to be the same. 1 The doctrine of the unity of being, 2 in as far as it can be shown to have originated with Stilpo, may be © deduced as a corollary from this view; for if nothing can be predicated of anything else, it follows that being can alone be predicated of itself.
Truly cynical are also Stilpo’s moral principles. The captious logic to which other Megarians devoted themselves with speculative one-sidedness, to the entire neglect of the ethical element, 3
1 In Plut. adv. Col. 22, 1, p. 1119, the Epicurean Stilpo raises the objection: τὸν θεὸν ἀναιρεῖσθαι ὑπ᾽ αὐτοῦ', λέγοντος ἕτερον ἑτέρου μὴ κατηγορεῖσθαι. πῶς γὰρ βιωσόμεθα, μὴ λέγοντες ἄνθρωπον ἀγαθὸν...ἀλλ᾽ ἄνθρωπον ἄνθρωπον χωρὶς καὶ ἀγαθὸν ἀγαθὸν;...and again, c. 23: οὐ μὴν ἀλλὰ τὸ ἐπὶ τοῦ Στίλπωνος τοιοῦτόν ἐστιν. ‘εἰ περὶ ἵππου τὸ τρέχειν κατηγοροῦμεν, οὔ φησι ταὐτὸν εἶναι τῷ περὶ οὗ κατηγορεῖται τὸ κατηγορούμενον ἀλλ᾽ ἕτερον: οὐδ᾽ εἰ περὶ ἀνθρώπου τὸ ἀγαθὸν εἶναι, ἀλλ᾽ ἕτερον μὲν ἀνθρώπῳ τοῦ τί ἦν εἶναι τὸν λόγον, ἕτερον δὲ τῷ ἀγαθῷ: καὶ πάλιν τὸ ἵππον εἶναι τοῦ τρέχοντα εἶναι διαφέρειν: ἑκατέρου γὰρ ἀπαιτούμενοι τὸν λόγον οὐ τὸν αὐτὸν ἀποδίδομεν ὑπὲρ ἀμφοῖν’ ὅθεν ἁμαρτάνειν τοὺς ἕτερον ἑτέρου κατηγοροῦντας. The very same thing will be found in the case of Antisthenes. All the less reason has Plutarch to regard Stilpo’s assertion as a mere joke. The same proof is given by Simpl. Phys. 26, a.: διὰ δὲ τἠν περὶ ταῦτα (the distinction between the different categories and the ambiguity of words) ἄγνοιαν καὶ οἱ Μεγαρικοὶ κληθέντες ϕιλόσοϕοι λαβόντες ὡς ἐναργῆ προτσαιν, ὅτι ὧν οἱ λογοιετεροι ταυτα ετερα ἐστι καὶ ὅτι τὰ ἕτερα κεχώρισται αλλήλων, ἐδόκουν δεικνυναι αὐτον αυτοῦ κεχωρισμένον ἕκαστον: i.e. since the conception of Σωκράτης μουσικὸς is a different one to that of Σωκράτης λευκός, the one according to Megarian hypothesis must be a different person to the other.
2 See p. 263.
3 Excepting Euclid’s doctrine of the oneness of virtue, nothing bearing on Ethics is known as belonging to the Megarians.
was also a characteristic |277| of Stilpo; 1 and perhaps it is only an accident that no captious assertion or discovery of his is on record. His character, however, is not only always mentioned by biographers with the greatest respect, 2 but many traits are recorded of him, which identify his morality with that of the Cynics.
(b) The highest good placed in apathy. The highest good he placed in that apathy, which forbids the feeling of pain even to exist. The wise man is required to be in himself independent, and not even to stand in need of friends to secure happiness. 3 When Demetrius Poliorcetes enquired after his losses by the plunder of Megara, he gave for answer that he had seen no one carrying off his knowledge. 4 When reminded of the immoral life of his daughter, he rejoined, that if he could not bring honour on her, she could not bring disgrace on him. 5
1 See Chrysipp. in Plut. Sto. Rep. 10, 11, p. 1036, and pp. 211, 2; 210, 6.
2 See p. 251, note 3.
3 Sen. Ep. 9, 1: ‘An merito reprehendat 1n quadam epistola Epicurus eos, qui dicunt sapientem se ipso esse contentum et propter hoc amico non indigere desideras scire. Hoc objicitur Stilboni ab Epicuro et lis, quibus summum bonum visum est animus impatiens.’ And a little further on: ‘Hoc inter nos et illos interest: noster sapiens vincit quidem incommodum omne sed sentit; illorum ne sentit quidem.’ Connected herewith is the observation of Stilpo in Teles. in Stob. Floril. 103, 83, in order to warn from excessive grief at the death of relatives. What Alex. Aphr. De An. 103, a, remarks also probably applies to Stilpo, that the Megarians look on ἀσχλησία as πρῶτον οἰκεῖον.
4 Plutarch, Demet. c. 9; Tranquil. An. c. 17, p. 475; Puer. Ed. c. 8, p. 6; Sen. de Const. 5,6; Epis. 9, 18; Diag. li, 115: Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 183, 153 (Stod. Floril. ed. Mein. iv. 227). That Stilpo thereby lost his wife and daughter is probably a rhetorical exaggeration of Seneca. The well-known ‘omnia mea mecum porto,’ attributed by Seneca to Stilpo, is by Cicero referred to Bias of Priene.
5 Plut. An. Tran. c. 6; Diog. ii. 114.
Banishment he |278| would not allow to be an evil. 1 To be independent of everything without, and to be absolutely free from wants—this highest standard of Cynicism for the wise man—was also his ideal. And lastly, the free attitude towards religion adopted by the Cynics was also shared by him, and finds expression in many of his utterances. 2
(c) The Cynic and Megarian theories not logically harmonised by him. Whether, and if so, in what way, he attempted to set up a logical connection between the Cynic and Megarian theories, we are not told. In itself, such a task was not difficult. With the assertion that no subject can admit a predicate, Euclid’s hostile attitude towards proof by analogy is closely related; this too rests on the general proposition that things dissimilar cannot be compared. It is also quite in harmony with the negative criticism of the Megarians; and if Euclid denied to the good any form of manifoldness, others might add, as Antisthenes really did, that the one and not the manifold could alone exist. Moreover from the oneness of the good the apathy of the wise man might be deduced, by considering that all else besides the good is unreal and indifferent. 3 The denial of the popular faith was also involved in the doctrine of the one, even as it was first taught by Xenophanes.
1 In the fragment in Stob. Flor. 40, 8.
2 According to Diog. ii. 116, he proved that the Athene of Phidias was not a God, and then before the Areopagus evasively replied that she was not a 6eds but a Ged, and when Crates asked him as to prayers and sacrifices, replied that these subjects could not be discussed in the street. The story in Plut. Prof. in Virt. 12, p. 83, of the dream in which he conversed with Poseidon is apparently invented to justify his omission to sacrifice.
3 Conf. Diog. ii. 106, and p. 263, 3.
In the Cynic element as adopted by |279| Stilpo, there were not wanting, it is true, points of approach to the Megarians, but it was a deviation from the original form of the Megarian teaching to allow explicitly such an element to exist.
The Elean-Eretrian School
A. History of the School
Closely connected with the Megarian school is the Elean-Eretrian, respecting which, however, very little information has reached us. Its founder was Phaedo of Elis, 1
1 See Preller’s Phaedo’s Life and Writings, Rhein. Mus. für Philol. iv. 391. Phaedo, the scion of a noble Elean family, had been taken captive not long before the death of Socrates, probably 400 or 401 BC Preller concludes from Phaedo, 89, B, that he was not eighteen years of age at the time of the death of Socrates; it may, however, be asked whether Phaedo followed Athenian customs in his dress. He was employed as a slave in most humiliating services at Athens, until one of Socrates’ friends (besides Crito, Cebes and Alcibiades are both mentioned, the latter certainly not being at Athens at the time, and probably not being alive) redeemed him at the intercession of Socrates. See Diog. ii. 31, 105; Suid. under Φαιδων; and Hesych. Vir Illustr. Φαιδων; Gell. N. A. ii. 18; Macrob. Sat. i. 11; Lact. Inst. iii. 25, 15; Orig. c. Cels. iii. 67; Cic. N. D. i. 33, 93; Athen. xi. 507, c. Preller not improbably finds the source of the story in Hermippus, περὶ τῶν διαρεψάνεων παιδεία δούλων. Grote (Plato, iii. 503) objects to this story, that no conquest of Elis took place at that time, whereas Diog. says of Phaedo: συνεάλω τῇ πατρίδι. He therefore infers that Μήλιος should be read for Ἠλεῖος in Diog. ii. 105. Yet Phaedo is called an Elean by both Gell. l. c. and Strabo, ix. 1, 8, p. 393, and his school called Elean. If Elis itself did not fall into an enemy’s hand, its suburbs were occupied by the Spartan army in the Elean-Spartan war, probably in the spring of 408 BC (Xen. Hell. iii. 2, 21, and Preller, on the passage, Curtius, Gr. Gesch. iii. 149. 757.) Phaedo appears to have been taken captive at that time. Most probably Phaedo left Athens on the death of Socrates. But whether he at once returned home, or repaired with others to Euclid at Megara, is unknown. Diog. ii. 105, mentions two genuine and four spurious dialogues of his. His Zopyrus is even quoted by Pollux, iii. 18, and the Antiatheista in Bekker’s Anecdot. i. 107. Paenstius seems to have had doubts as to all the treatises passing under his name, Diog. ii. 64. He is called by Gellius ‘philosophus illustris,’ and his writings are spoken of as ‘admodum elegantes.’ Even Diog. ii. 47, enumerates him among the most distinguished Socraticists.
the well-known favourite of|280| Socrates. 1 On the death of his teacher, Phaedo collected a circle of disciples in his native town, who thence received the name of the Elean philosophers. 2Plistanus is named as his successor, 3 and Archipylus and Moschus as his pupils. 4 Beyond the names we, however, know nothing of any one of them. By Menedemus and Asclepiades, 5 the school was removed to Eretria, and it was then called the Eretrian. 6
1 Compare for his relations to Socrates the Phaedo, 58, D. 89, H.
2 Ἠλειακοί, Strabo, ix. 1, 8, p. 393; Diog. ii. 105, 126.
3 Diog. ii. 105.
4 126. Perhaps these men were not immediate pupils of his. Since nothing is said of Menedemus’ studying under Plistanus, the latter, we may suppose, was no longer alive.
5 The account given by Diog. ii. 125 of these philosophers in his life of Menedemus (probably taken from Antigonus of Carystus and Heraclides Lembus) is as follows: Menedemus of Eretria, originally a tradesman, had been sent as a soldier to Megara. There he became acquainted with the school of Plato (so Diog. says with Plato; but this is chronologically impossible) and joined it together with his friend Asclepiades, both of them (according to Athen. iv. 168, a) earning a living by working at night. Soon, however, they joined Stilpo at Megara, and thence went to Moschus and Archipylus at Elis, by whom they were introduced to the Elean doctrines. Returning to their native city and becoming connected by marriage, they continued together in faithful friendship until the death of Asclepiades, even after Menedemus had risen to highest rank in the state, and had attained wealth and influence with the Macedonian princes. The sympathetic, noble and firm character of Menedemus, his pungent wit (on which Plut. Prof. in Virt. 10, p. 81; Vit. Pud. 18, p. 536), his moderation (Diog. ii. 129; Athen. x. 419, e), his liberality and his merits towards his country, are a subject of frequent panegyric. Soon after the battle of Lysimachia, which took place 278 BC, he died, possibly by suicide—the result of a grief which is differently stated—at the age of seventy-four. According to Antigonus in Diog. ii. 136, he left no writings.
6 Strabo, ix. 1, 8; Diag. ii. 105, 126; Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 129.
|281| Flourishing as was its condition here for a time, it appears soon to have died out. 1
B. Remains of Their Teaching
Among its adherents 2 Phaedo and Menedemus are the only two respecting whose opinions any information is to be had, and that information is little enough. By Timon 3 Phaedo is classed with Euclid as a babbler, which points to an argumentative tendency. 4 Perhaps, however, he devoted himself to Ethics 5 more than Euclid did. Menedemus, at least, appears to have been distinguished from his contemporary quibblers by having directed his attention to life and to moral questions. He is, however, spoken of as a sharp and skilful disputant. 6 If he hardly went the length of Antisthenes in declaring every combination of subject and predicate impossible, 7
1 Plut. Tranqu. An. 13, p. 472.
2 Athen. iv. 162, e, mentions a certain Ctesibius as a pupil of Menedemus, but what he says of him has nothing to do with philosophy. A treatise of the Stoic Spherus against the Eretrian School in 260 BC is the last trace of the existence of the Eretrian school. Diog. vii. 178.
3 Diog. ii. 107.
4 The Platonic Phaedo does not give the slightest ground for thinking, as Steinhart, Plat. W. iv. 397, does, that Phaedo was inclined to a sceptical withholding of judgment.
5 Compare the short but clever fragment on the subject of morals, which Sen. Ep. 94, 41, quotes from Phaedo.
6 Diog. ii. 134: ἦν δὲ καὶ δυσκατανόητος ὁ Μενέδημος καὶ ἐν τῷ συνθέσθαι δυσανταγώνιστος: ἐστρέφετό τε πρὸς πάντα καὶ εὑρεσιλόγει: ἐριστικώτατός τε, καθά φησιν Ἀντισθένης ἐν Διαδοχαῖς, ἦν. The verses of Epicrates in Athen. li. 59, cannot well refer to this Menedemus, since they are also directed against Plato, who was then still living.
7 Even this is asserted. According to Phys. 20, a (Schol. in Arist. 330, a, 3), the Eretrians asserted μηδὲν κατὰ μεδενὸς κατηγορεῖσθαι. They appear in this passage to be confounded with the Cynics and the later Megarians.
it still sounds captious enough to hear that he only allowed affirmative judgments to be valid, but rejected negative |282| and hypothetical ones. 1 Chrysippus 2 blames him as well as Stilpo, for their obsolete fallacies. 3 It may also be true that he disputed the view that properties exist apart from particular objects, in the spirit of Cynic nominalism. 4 On the other hand, it is asserted that in positive opinions he was a Platonist, and only employed argument for amusement. 5 From what has been already stated, this seems incredible, nor can it be deduced from his disputes with Alexinus. 6 Indeed, it is in itself most improbable. 7 Still so much seems to be ascertained, that, together with Stilpo, he attributed to ethical doctrines a value above criticism. For we not only hear that he admired Stilpo, who was his teacher, more than any other philosopher, 8
1 Diog. ii. 135.
2 Plut. Sto. Rep. 10, 11, p. 1036.
3 Hermann, Ges. Abh. 253, refers to Menedemus the verses of John Salisbury (Enthet. ed. Peters, p. 41), in which a certain Endymion is mentioned, who called fides, opinio vera, and error, opinio fallax, and who denied that you could know what was false, for no knowledge could be deceptive. The allusion does not, however, appear probable. The continuation, that the sun corresponds to truth, and the moon to falsehood, that error and change bear rule under the moon, but truth and immutability in the domain of the sun, certainly does not come from Menedemus.
4 Simpl. Categ. Schol. in Arist. 68, a, 24: οἱ ἀπὸ τῆς Ἐρετρίας ἀνῇρουν τὰς ποιότητας ὡς οὐδαμῶς ἐχούσας τι κοινὸν οὐσιῶδες ἐν δὲ τοῖς καθέκαστα καὶ συνθέτοις ὑπαρχούσας.
5 Heraclides in Diog. ii. 135. Ritter’s conjecture, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 155, that this Menedemus is confounded with Menedemus the Pyrrhaean, whom we know from Plut. adv. Col. 32, p. 1126, 8, and Athen., is hardly to be trusted. For Heraclides Lembus had treated the Eretrians in detail, as we learn from Diog., so that it is difficult to imagine such a confusion. The context also tells against that view.
6 Diog. 135, 136, says that he was constantly attacking Alexinus with violent derision, but yet did him some service.
7 Diog. 134: τῶν δὲ διδασκάλων τῶν περὶ Πλάτωνα καὶ Ξενοκράτην...κατεφρόνει.
8 Diog. 134.
and that he was himself often |283| derided for being a Cynic, 1 but we know that he busied himself with enquiring as to the chief good in a practical way. He affirmed that there was only; one good—intelligence, 2 which, to his mind, was identical with a rational direction of the will. 3 What are commonly spoken of as distinct virtues, are, he maintained, only different names of this one virtue; 4 and, by his activity as a statesman, 5 he proved that he did not aim at dead knowledge. In his free views of religion he likewise reminds us of Stilpo and the Cynics. 6 Zeno, however, having about this time united the most valuable and lasting parts of the Megarian and Cynic teaching in the more comprehensive system of the Stoics, stragglers, such as the Eretrians, soon found themselves unable to exercise any important influence.
1 Diog. 140: τὰ μὲν οὖν πρῶτα κατεφρονεῖτο, κύων καὶ λῆρος ὑπὸ τῶν Ἐρετριέων ἀκούων.
2 Cic. Acad. ii. 42: Diog. 128: πολλὰ τὰ ἀγαθὰ ἐπύθετο πόσα τὸν ἀριθμὸν καὶ εἰ νομίζοι πλείω τῶν ἑκατόν. and in 134 are some questions to prove that the useful is not the good.
3 Diog. 136: Καί ποτέ τινος ἀκούσας ὡς μέγιστον ἀγαθὸν εἴη τὸ πάντων ἐπιτυγχάνειν ὧν τις ἐπιθυμεῖ, εἶπε, πολὺ δὲ μεῖζον τὸ ἐπιθυμεῖν ὧν δεῖ.
4 Plut. Virt. Mor. 2: Μενέδημος μὲν ὁ ἐξ Ἐρετρίας ἀνῄρει τῶν ἀρετῶν καὶ τὸ πλῆθος καὶ τὰς διαφοράς, ὡς μιᾶς οὔσης καὶ χρωμένης πολλοῖς ὀνόμασι: τὸ γὰρ αὐτὸ σωφροσύνην καὶ ἀνδρείαν καὶ δικαιοσύνην λέγεσθαι, καθάπερ βροτὸν καὶ ἄνθρωπον.
5 That he exercised a considerable influence on his friends by his teaching and his personalty is shown by Plutarch, Adul. et Am. c. 11, p. 55; Diog. ii. 127-129.
6 Diog. 135: Βίωνός τε ἐπιμελῶς κατατρέχοντος τῶν μάντεων, νεκροὺς αὐτὸν ἐπισφάττειν ἔλεγε: against which a trait of personal fear, such as is described by Diog. 132, proves nothing. Josephus, Antiquit. Jud. xii. 2, 12. Tertullian’s Apologet. 18, language on Menedemus and his belief in Providence, is probably as worthless as the whole fable of Aristeas.
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|284| Chapter XIII. The Cynics
A. History of the Cynics
The Cynic, like the Megarian School, arose from a fusion of the teaching of Socrates with the doctrines of the Eleatics and Sophists. Both schools, as has been already remarked, were united by Stilpo, and passed over into the Stoa in Zeno. 1 The founder of Cynicism, Antisthenes, a native of Athens, 2
1 It is accordingly not compatible with an insight into the historical connection of these schools to insert the Cyrenaics between the Cynics and the Megarians, as Tennemann, Hegel, Marbach, Braniss, Brandis, and Strümpell have done. Otherwise it is of no moment whether we advance from the Megarians to Antisthenes and thence to Aristippus, or vice versa; for these three schools were not being developed from one another, but grew up side by side from the same origin. The order followed above appears, however, to be the more natural one; the Megarians confining themselves more closely to the fundamental position of Socrates; Antisthenes considering its practical consequences: and Aristippus its effects on happiness, according to his own imperfect conception of it.
2 Antisthenes was the son of an Athenian and a Thracian slave (Diog. vi. 1; ii. 31; Sen. De Const. 18, 5; Plut. De Exil. 17, p. 607, calling his mother; and Clemens, Strom. i. 302, C. in calling himself a Phyrgian, are confounding him with Diogenes, or else must have been thinking of the anecdote in Diog. vi. 1; Sen. and Plut. l. c.; for further particulars consult Winkelmann, Antisth. Fr. p. 7; Miler, De Antisth. vita et scriptis Marb. 1860, p. 3). He lived, according to Xen. Mem. ii. 5; Sym. 3, 8; 4, 34, in extreme poverty. The time of his birth and death is not further known to us. Diodor. xv. 76, mentions him as one of the men living about 366 BC and Plut. Lycurg. 30, Sch., quotes a remark of his on the battle of Leuctra. According to Eudocia (Villoison’s Anecd. i. 56), he attained the age of 70 years, which would place his birth in 436 BC, but the circumstance is uncertain.
appears |285| to have become acquainted with Socrates only late in life, 1 but ever afterwards to have clung to him 2 with enthusiastic devotion, 3 imitating his critical reasoning, though not always without an element of captiousness and quibbling. Early in life he had enjoyed the instruction of Gorgias, 4 and included other Sophists likewise among his friends. 5 Indeed he had himself appeared Sophist-like as a pleader and teacher, before he made the acquaintance of Socrates. 6 It was therefore only a going back to his old mode of life, when on the death of Socrates he opened a School. 7
1 We have every reason to refer Plato's γερόντων τοῖς ὀψιμάθεσι, Soph. 251, B., to him, as will be subsequently seen. The only thing against it is the account in Diog. vi. 1, that Antisthenes was praised by Socrates for his valour in the battle of Tanagra. This objection applies even if the battle referred to was not the victory of the Athenians in the year 456 BC(in which it is impossible that Antisthenes can have taken part), but the battle mentioned by Thucyd. iii. 91 in 426 BC, or that which was fought late in the autumn of 428 BC between Delium and Tanagra (Thuc. iv. 91), which is usually called the battle of Delium. The story, however, is of no account, for Diog. ii. 31 quotes the same words of Socrates in a different way.
2 Xen. Mem. iii. 11, 17; Sym. 4, 44; 8, 4-6. Plato, Phaedo, 59, B.; Diog. vi. 2; Ibid. 9.
3 This at least is the description given of him by Xen. Symp. 2, 10; 3, 4; 6; 4, 2; 6; 6, 5; 8.
4 Diog. vi. 1, referring to the rhetorical school of Gorgias; nor does Antistheres deny his teaching. At a later period Antisthenes wrote against Gorgias, Athen. v. 220, d.
5 According to Xen. Symp. 4, 62, he introduced Prodicus and Hippias to Callias, and recommended to Socrates an unknown Sophist from Heraclea.
6 Hermippus in Diog. vi. 2; Hieron. c. Jovin. ii. 14.
7 In the γυμνάσιον of Cynosarges, Diog. vi. 13; Gottling, Ges. Abh. i.253, which was intended for those who, like himself,were of mixed Athenian blood, Plut. Themist. c. 1. According to Diog. vi. 4, he had but few pupils because of his harsh and severe treatment of them. It is not reported that he required payment, but he appears to have received voluntary presents. Diog. vi. 9.
At the same time he did not neglect to |286| commit his views to writing in numerous treatises, 1 the language and style of which are most highly praised. 2
Among the pupils 3 of Antisthenes, Diogenes 4
1 Diog. vi. 15 (comp. Müller, l. c., p. 25) gives a list of these writings, which, according to Diog. ii. 64, was in the main approved of by Panaetius. They are by him divided into 10 volumes. Excepting a few fragments, the only ones which are preserved are the two small and comparatively worthless declamations, Ajax and Ulysses, the genuineness of which is fully ascertained. Winckelmann (Antisthenis Fragmenta, Zur. 1842) has collected all the fragments. Because of his many writings, Timon called him παντοϕυῆ λεδόνα, Diog. vi. 18.
2 See Theopomp. in Diog. vi. 14 and 15, and vii. 19; Dionys. Jud. de Thuc. c. 31, p. 941; Epicte: Diss. ii. 17, 35; Phrynich. in Phot. Cod. 158, p. 101, b; Fronto, De Orat. i. p. 218; Longin. De Invent. Rhet. Gr ix. 559; Cic. ad Att. xii. 38; and Lucian adv. Indoct. c. 27; Theopompus passes the same opinion on his spoken addresses.
3 Called by Aristotle, Metaph. viii. 3; 1043, b, 24, Ἀντισθένειοι, but in later times universally, and probably even in the time of Antisthenes, called Κυνικοὶ, partly from their place of meeting, partly because of their mode of life. Conf. Diog. vi. 13; Lact. Inst. iii. 15. g. E. Schol. in Arist. 23; a, 42; 35, a, 5. Antisthenes was already called ἁπλοκύων (Diog. l. c.), and Brutus speaks disparagingly of a Cynic (Plut. Brut. 34). Diogenes boasted of the name (Diog. 33; 40; 45; 55-60; Stob. Ecl. ii. 348, u, a), and the Corinthians placed a marble dog on his grave. (Diog. 78.)
4 Steinhart, Diogenes, Allg. Encyc. sect. i. bd. xxx. 301; Gattling, Diogenes der Cyniker. Ges. Abh. i. 251; Bayle, Dict. Art. Diogéne is always worth reading. Diogenes was the son of the money-changer Kikosios at Sinope. In his youth he had been engaged with his father in issuing counterfeit coin, and in consequence was obliged to leave his country, Diog. vi. 20, quoting authorities, gives further particulars, but is not always faithfully explained by Göttling, 251. Conf. Ibid. 49, 56; Plut. Inimic. Util. c. 2; De Exil. c. 7, p. 602; Musonius in Stob. Floril. 40,9; Lucian, Bis Accus., 24; Dio Chrys. Or. viii. We have no reason to doubt this fact, as Steinhart does, p. 302, although the accounts may disagree in a few details. In Athens he became acquainted with Antisthenes, who, for some reason or other, drove him away with a stick, but was at length overcome by his perseverance. (Diog. 21; Aelian, V. H. x. 16; Hieron. adv. Jovin. ii. 206.) When this took place is unknown, and Bayle’s conjecture that the condemnation of Socrates was the cause of Antisthenes’ hatred of mankind, is not to be depended upon for chronological reasons. Diogenes now devoted himself to philosophy in the Cynic sense of the term, and soon surpassed his master in self-denial and abstemiousness. He himself mentions Antisthenes as his teacher, in the verses in Plut. Qu. Conv. ii. 1, 7, 1. He appears to have lived avery long time at Athens, at least if the account of his meeting with Philip before the battle of Chaeronea may be trusted (Diog. 43; Plut. de Adulat. c. 30, p. 70; De Exil. c. 16, p. 606; pict. Diss. iii. 22, 24; it is not, however, stated that Diogenes fought at Chaeronea, as Göttling, p. 265, says, nor is this probable of a Cynic), according to which he was then still living at Athens. But it is also possible—and this agrees with his principle of having no home—that he may have visited other places as a wandering preacher of morals, particularly Corinth. (Diog. 44; 63; Plat. Prof. in Virt. 6, p. 78; Dio Chrys. Or. vi.; Val. Max. iv.3; Diog. ii. 66; vi. 50.) According to Diogenes, he met Aristippus in Syracuse. On some such journey he fell into the hands of pirates, who sold him to Xeniades, a Corinthian. For this event see Diog. vi. 29; 74; Plut. Tran. An. 4, p.466; An. Vitios, s. 3, p. 499; Stob. Floril. 3, 63; 40, 9; pict. Diss. iii. 24, 66; Philo, Qu. Omni. Prob. Lib. 883, C.; Julian, Or. vii. 212, d. Xeniades appointed him the instructor of his sons, and he is said to have admirably discharged this duty. Highly esteemed by his pupils and by their parents, he remained with them till his death. At this time occurred the meeting with the younger Dionysius, mentioned by Plut. Timol. 15, and the conversation with Alexander, so greatly exaggerated by tradition. (Diog. 32; 38; 60; 68; Sen. Benef. v. 4, 3; Juvenal, xiv. 311; Theo. Progym. c. 5; Julian, Or. vii. 212.) The most simple version of it is that found in Plut. Alex. c. 14; De Alex. Virt. c, 10, p. 331; ad Princ. Inerud. c. 5, p. 702. Diogenes died at Corinth, on the same day, it is said, as Alexander (Plut. Qu. Conv. viii. 1, 4, p. 717; Demetr. in Diog. 79), i.e. 823 BC, at an advanced age (Diog. 76, says almost ninety, Cens. Di. Nat. 15, 2, says eighty-one). The story of his death is differently told. (Diag. 76; 31; Plut. Consol. ad Apoll. c. 12, p. 107; Aelian, V. H. viii. 14; Cons. l. c.; Tatian adv. Gr. c. 2; Hieron. adv. Jovin. ii. 207, m; Lucian, Dial. Mort. 21, 2; Cic. Tusc. i. 34, 104; Stob. Floril. 123, 11.) Most probably he succumbed to old age. The Corinthians honoured him with a solemn burial and a tomb, and Sinope erected a monument to his memory (Diog. 78; Pausan, ii. 2, 4; Anth. Gr. iii. 558). Diog. 80, mentions many writings which bear his name. A portion of them were, however, rejected by Sotion. Others denied that he left any writings. Theophrastus’ treatise: τῶν Διογένους συναγωγὴ (in Diog. v. 43), by Grote, Plato, iii. 508, to the Cynic Diogenes, certainly refers to Diogenes of Apollonia.
|287| of Sinope is alone known to fame, that witty and eccentric individual, whose imperturbable originality, |288| coarse humour, strength of character, admirable even in its excesses, fresh and vigorous mind, have made him the most typical figure of ancient Greece. 1
Of the pupils of Diogenes, 2 Crates is the most celebrated.
1 That he exercised an irresistible charm over many persons by his manners and words is attested by Diog. 75, and confirmed by examples like that of Xeniades, Onesicritus, and his sons.
2 Amongst them are known, besides Crates and Stilpo: Onesicritus, the companion and biographer of Alexander, with his sons Androsthenes and Philiscus (Diog. vi. 75; 73; 80; 84; Plut. Alex. 65; for particulars respecting Onesicritus in Müller, Script. Rer. Alex. M. p. 47); Monimus of Syracuse, the slave of a Corinthian money-changer, who was driven away by his master for throwing money out of the window in Cynic fanaticism, one of the most distinguished Cynics, and the author of several treatises, amongst them of παίγνια σπουδῇ λαληθυία μεμιγμένα (Diog. vi. 82); Menander and Hegesias (Diog. vi. 84), and perhaps Bryson the Achsan (Jbid. 85). Phocion is also said to have been a pupil of his (Diog. 76; Phoc. c. 9); but Plutarch was not aware of it; and as Phocion adhered to the Academy, there is probably no truth in the story beyond the fact of a passing acquaintance.
3 The Theban Crates, generally called a pupil of Diogenes, but by Hippobotus, a pupil of Bryson the Achaean (Diog. vi. 78), flourished about 328-324 BC( Diog. vi. 87). Since, however, stories are current not only of his tilting with Stilpo (Diog. ii. 117), but also of his quarrelling with Menedemus in his later years (Diog. ii. 131; vi. 91), his life must have lasted to the third century. Another Crates, a pupil of Stilpo, who is mentioned Diog. ii. 114, must not be confounded with the Cynic Crates. He is probably the same as the Peripatetic of that name in Diog. iv. 23. In zeal for the Cynic philosophy, Crates gave away his considerable property. For the different and very conflicting accounts see Diog. vi. 87; Plut. Vit. Aer. Al. 8, 7, p. 831; Apul. De Mag. 22; Floril. ii. 14; Simpl. in Epict. Enchir. p. 64; Philostr. v. Apoll. i. 138, 2; Hieron. adv. Jovin. 11.203. He died at an advanced age (Diog. 92, 98). Diog. 98 mentions some letters of his, the style of which resembled Plato’s, and some tragedies, and Demetr. De Elocut. 170, 259, also mentions moral and satirical poems. According to Julian, Or. vi. 200, b, Plutarch also wrote an account of his life. From Diog. 91; Apul. Floril. 14, we learn that he was ugly and deformed.
By his influence, his wife |289| Hipparchia 1 and her brother Metrocles 2 were gained for the Cynic School. The names of several immediate and remote pupils of Metrocles 3 are known, through whom the School may be traced down to the end of the third century. Yet all its nobler features were cultivated by the Stoics from the beginning of the third century, only toned down and supplemented by the addition of other elements also. Henceforth Cynicism was useless as a special branch of the Socratic philosophy. Subsequent attempts which were made to preserve its distinct character only resulted in caricatures.
1 The daughter of an opulent family from Maronea in Thrace, who from love to Crates renounced her prospects and habits of comfort, and followed him in his beggar’s life, Diog. 96; Apul. Floril. ii. 14.
2 Formerly a pupil of Theophrastus and Xenocrates, but won over to Cynicism by Crates (Telos. in Stob. Floril. 97, 31, vol. iii. 214, Mein.), after having been cured by him of his childish idea of suicide. At a later period, however, he hung himself to escape the burdens of age, Diog. 94. Respecting his apathy, see Plut. An. Vitios. Ad. Infelic. c. 3, p. 499; for a conversation of his with Stilpo see Plut. Tranqu. An. 6, p. 468.
3 Diog. 95. His pupils were Theombrotus and Cleomenes; the former was the teacher of Demetrius, the latter of Timarchus, and both of them of Echecles. Contemporary with Echecles was Colotes, Diag. vi. 102. Contemporary with Metrocles was Diodorus of Aspendus, mentioned in Zeller’s Phil. d. Griech. vol. i. 289. At an earlier period, under Antigonus the Great, lived the Cynic Thrasylus (Plut. Reg. Apophtheg. Antig. 15, p. 182; Vit. Pud. 7, p. 531); under one of the Ptolemies, Sotades, whose Cynical abstinence Nonnus, Exeg. Histor. Greg. Naz. 26 (Greg. in Julian. Invect. ed. Eton. 1610, p. 136) mentions.
|290| Two of the basest of its later representatives are known to us in the persons of Menedemus 1 and Menippus. 2
1 A pupil of Echecles, and previously, as it would seem, of the Epicurean Colotes (Diog. vi. 95, 102), of whom we only hear that he occasionally appeared in the mask of a fury, to add greater force to his philippics. A pupil of his is Ktesibius, whom Athen. i. 15, c. iv. 162, e, names as a contemporary of Antigonus (Gonatas).
2 Menippus was, according to Diog. vi. 99, conf. Gell. N. A. ii. 18, 6, originally a Phoenician slave. He is said to have amassed a considerable fortune by money-lending (Hermippus in Diog. l. c.), the loss of which he took so much to heart that he hung hiniself. His career must fall in the first half of the third century. Diogenes indicates that, placing him between Metrocles and Menedemus, it being his habit to mention the philosophers of this school in chronological order; also the story that he was the author of a treatise respecting the festivities of Epicurus’ birthday (Diog. vi. 101), and of an Arcesilaus (Athen. xiv. 664, c.; the Academician of this name died at a great age in 240 BC); also the circumstance that a portion of his writings was attributed to a Zopyrus (Diog. vi. 100), probably the friend of the Sillograph Timon (ibid. ix. 114); also Probus who (Virg. Ecl. vi. 31) calls Menippus much earlier than Varro; also Lucian Ikaromen. 15, who makes Menippus an eye-witness of a number of things, all of which happened about 280 BC. In the face of so many clear proofs, the language of Diag. vi. 99, who, speaking of Meleager living about 100 BC says, τοῦ κατ’ αὐτὸυ γεμομένου, cannot go for much. There is probably here a mistake in the text; perhaps κατ’ is written for μετ’, or as Nitsche, p. 32, proposes, we ought to read τοῦ κατ’ αὐτὸυ γεμομένου κυνικοῦ. Probably this Menippus is the same person as Menippus of Sinope, called by Diog. vi. 95, one of the most distinguished men of the school of Metrocles; for Diog. vi. 101 in counting up the various Menippuses does not mention him as well as this Menippus, but calls him as Athen. xiv. 629, e, 664, e, likewise does Μένιππος ὁ κυνικός. The name Σινωπεὺς is thus explained: his master was a certain Baton of Pontus (Achaicus in Diog. vi. 99), with whom he probably lived at Sinope. (Compare also Nietzsche’s Beitr. z. Quellenkunde u. Kritik des Laërt. Diogenes. Basel, 1870, p. 28.) According to Diog. 13 treatises of Menippus were in circulation, of which he gives the titles of seven, and Athen. the titles of two more. That they were not his own production is probably only enemy’s slander. All these writings appear to have been satires. His proficiency as a satirist may be gathered from the fact that he was not only imitated in ancient times by Meleager (Diog. vi. 99), but also by Varro in his Satire Menipper (Cic. Acad. i. 2, 8; Gell. N. A. ii. 18, 6, also Macrob. Saturn. i. 11; conf. Probus, l. c.), and that even Lucian gives him a prominent place in his dialogues. Conf. Riese, Varr. Sat. Rel. p. 7.
Soon after it became extinct as a School, |291| and only reappeared at a very much later time as an offshoot of Stoicism. 1
B. Cynic Teaching
(1) Depreciation of theoretical knowledge. The Cynic philosophy claims to be the genuine teaching of Socrates. 2 The many-sidedness, however, of Socrates, whereby the intellectual and the moral elements were completely fused, and the foundations thus laid of a more comprehensive and deeper-going science, was above the powers of Antisthenes. Naturally narrow and dull, 3 but fortified with singular strength of will, Antisthenes admired 4 above all things the independence of his master’s character, the strictness of his principles, his self-control, and his universal cheerfulness in every position in life.
1 Besides the above, Meleager of Gadara should be mentioned, could we be sure that he was a member of the Cynic School. But the mere fact that Athen. iv. 157, 6, in addressing a Cynic calls him ὁ πρόγονος ὑμῶν, and that he is perhaps mentioned by Diogenes as a Cynic, does not prove the continuance of the Cynic school. It would fully explain these statements that he was attaching himself as a writer to Menippus.
2 See p. 285, 2, and Diog. vi. 11.
3 This his teaching proves independently of the opinions of opponents, such as Plato, Theaetet. 155, E, in which the words σκληρούς καὶ ἀντιτύπους ἀνθρώπους and μάλ᾽ εὖ ἄμουσοι refer without doubt to Antisthenes and not to the Atomists; Soph. 251, B. γερόντων τοῖς ὀψιμαθέσι...ὑπὸ πενίας τῆς περὶ φρόνησιν κτήσεως τὰ τοιαῦτα τεθαυμακόσι. Arist. Metaph. v. 29, 1024, b, 33, viii. 33 1043, b, 23.
4 As Cic. De Orat. iii. 17, 62, and Diog. vi. 2, remark, apparently on the same authority.
How these moral traits could be in a great measure the result of free enquiry on the part of Socrates, and how they could thus be preserved from narrowness, |292| he did not understand; nor did he see that the principle of a knowledge of conceptions reached far beyond the limits of the Socratic platform. All knowledge not, immediately subservient to ethical purposes he accordingly rejected as unnecessary, or even as injurious, as the offspring of vanity and love of pleasure. Virtue, he maintained, is an affair of action, and can dispense with words and with wisdom. All that it needs is the strength of will of a Socrates. 1 Thus he and his School not only regarded logical and physical enquiries as worthless, but passed the same opinion on all arts and sciences which have not the moral improvement of mankind 2
1 Diog. iii. 11, Antisthenes teaches αὐτάρκη δὲ τὴν ἀρετὴν πρὸς εὐδαιμονίαν, μηδενὸς προσδεομένην ὅτι μὴ Σωκρατικῆς ἰσχύος. τήν τ᾽ ἀρετὴν τῶν ἔργων εἶναι, μήτε λόγων πλείστων δεομένην μήτε μαθημάτων.
2 Diog. 103: ἀρέσκει οὖν αὐτοῖς τὸν λογικὸν καὶ τὸν φυσικὸν τόπον περιαιρεῖν, ἐμφερῶς Ἀρίστωνι τῷ Χίῳ, μόνῳ δὲ προσέχειν τῷ ἠθικῷ. According to Diocles, Diogenes said—what others attribute to Socrates or Aristippus (see p. 150, and Plut. in Eus. Pr. Ev. i. 8, 9)—that we ought to learn ὅττι τοι ἐν μεγάροισι κακόν τ' ἀγαθόν τε τέτυκται. παραιτοῦνται δὲ καὶ τὰ ἐγκύκγια...περιαιροῦσι δὲ καὶ γεωμετρίαν καὶ μουσικὴν καὶ πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα, When a dial was shown him, Diogenes replied, that it was not a bad instrument to avoid being late for meals. Ibid. 27: τούς δὲ γραμματικοὺς ἐθαύμαζε [Diog.] τὰ μὲν τοῦ Ὀδυσσέως κακὰ ἀναζητοῦντας, τὰ δ᾽ ἴδια ἀγνοοῦντας. καὶ μὴν καὶ τοὺς μουσικοὺς τὰς μὲν ἐν τῇ λύρᾳ χορδὰς ἁρμόττεσθαι, ἀνάρμοστα δ᾽ ἔχειν τῆς ψυχῆς τὰ ἤθη: τοὺς μαθηματικοὺς ἀποβλέπειν μὲν πρὸς τὸν ἥλιον καὶ τὴν σελήνην, τὰ δ᾽ ἐν ποσὶ πράγματα παρορᾶν: τοὺς ῥήτορας λέγειν μὲν ἐσπουδακέναι τὰ δίκαια, πράττειν δὲ μηδαμῶς. The passage on astronomers may possibly have been supported by the story of Thales falling into a well whilst contemplating the heavens. An answer thereto is the passage in the Theaetetus 174, A, 175, D, on the Thracian maiden who upbraided him for so doing. The mother of Antisthenes was a Thracian slave, and the words which Plato puts into the mouth of the Thracian girl closely resemble those quoted by Diogenes. It would also tally with the character of Antisthenes, that he as an ἀπαίδευτος should be charged with not troubling himself about the general conception of things. Diog. 73 says of Diogenes: μουσικῆς τε καὶ γεωμετρικῆς καὶ ἀστρολογίας καὶ τῶν τοιούτων ἀμελεῖν, ὡς ἀχρήστων καὶ οὐκ ἀναγκαίων. Conf. Diog. 24; 39; Julian, Or. vi. 190, a; Seneca, Ep. 88, particularly § 7, 32; Stob. Floril. 33, 14; id. 80, 6: an astronomer pointing to a map of the heavens says: οὗτοί εἰσιν οἰ πλανώμενοι τῶν άστέρων, upon which Diogenes replies, pointing to those present: μὴ ψεύδου· οὐ γὰρ οὗτοί εἰσιν οἰ πλανώμενοι, ἀλλ' οὗτοί. The saying of Diogenes in Simpl. De Ceelo, 33, b, Schol. in Arist. 476, b, 35, that even an ass takes the shortest cut to his food and to the water, was probably meant as a hit at geometry and its axiom of the straight line.
for their immediate |293|
object; for, said Diogenes, 1 as soon as any other object intervenes, self is neglected. Even reading and writing Antisthenes declared could be dispensed with. 2
The last statement must in any case be taken with considerable limitation, 3 nor can the Cynic School as a whole be regarded as so hostile to culture as this language would seem to imply. In fact, some decided language as to the value of culture is on record coming from Antisthenes, 4 Diogenes, 5 Crates, 6
1 Excerp. e Joan. Damasc. ii. 18, 61. (Stod. Floril. ed. Mein.)
2 Diog. 103: γράμματα γοῦν μὴ μανθάνειν ἔφασκεν ὁ Ἀντισθένης τοὺς σώφρονας γενομένους, ἵνα μὴ διαστρέφοιντο τοῖς ἀλλοτρίοις.
3 It would be hardly credible in a man so fond of writing. If it is not altogether a fancy, it may either rest upon some individual expression, such as, that it would be better not to read at all than to read such nonsense, or it is based upon more general statements such as that quoted by Diog. 5, that wisdom must not be written in books, but in the soul.
4 Exe. e Floril. Jo. Damasc. ii. 13, 68: γράμματα γοῦν μὴ μανθάνειν ἔφασκεν ὁ Ἀντισθένης τοὺς σώφρονας γενομένους, ἵνα μὴ διαστρέφοιντο τοῖς ἀλλοτρίοις. Ibid. 33, in answer to the question ποῖος στέϕανος καλλιστός ἐστιν, he replied: ὁ ἀπὸ παιδείας.
5 Diog. 68: τὴν παιδείαν εἶπε τοῖς μὲν νέοις σωφροσύνην, τοῖς δὲ πρεσβυτέροις παραμυθίαν, τοῖς δὲ πένησι πλοῦτον, τοῖς δὲ πλουσίοις κόσμον εἶναι.—Exc. e Floril. Jo. Damasc. 18, 29: Ibid. 74, 75.
6 Diog. 86: ταῦτ᾽ ἔχω ὅσσ᾽ ἔμαθον καὶ ἐφρόντισα καὶ μετὰ Μουσῶν σέμν᾽ ἐδάην: τὰ δὲ πολλὰ καὶ ὄλβια τῦφος ἔμαρψεν.. A parody of this verse is the epitaph on Sardanapalus in Clem. Stromat. ii. 411, D.
|294| and Monimus. 1 Diogenes too is said to have zealously impressed on his pupils the sayings of poets and of prose writers. 2 Besides, it cannot be conceived that men, who wrote so much that was good, should have declared war against all culture. One thing we may however take for established, that the value of culture was exclusively estimated by its efficacy in producing the Cynic type of virtue. Hence this School depreciated all speculative knowledge, only studying logic. and physics, in as far as these sciences seemed necessary for ethical purposes. 3 From this judgment we are not justified in exempting even the founder. 4
1 Floril. Jo. Damasc. ii. 13, 88.
2 Diog. 31, according to Eubulus; Κατεῖχον δὲ οἱ παῖδες πολλὰ ποιητῶν καὶ συγγραφέων καὶ τῶν αὐτοῦ Διογένους, πᾶσάν τ᾽ ἔφοδον σύντομον πρὸς τὸ εὐμνημόνευτον ἐπήσκει.
3 Krische, Forschungen, 237. See Ritter, ii. 120.
4 ‘ Although the division of philosophy into Logic, Ethics, and Physics can have been hardly introduced in the time of Antisthenes, and hence the words in Diog. 103 cannot be his, it does not thence follow that the statement there made is false. Amongst the writings of Antisthenes some are known to us, which would be called logical writings, to use a later division; others are on physical subjects. To the first class belong Περὶ λέξεως, Ἀλήθεια, Περὶ τοῦ διαλέγεσθαι, Σάθων ἢ περὶ τοῦ ἀντιλέγειν, Περὶ διαλέκτου, Περὶ ὀνομάτων χρήσεως, Περὶ δόξης καὶ ἐπιστήμης, Περὶ ἐρωτήσεως καὶ ἀποκρίσεως, Δόξαι ἢ ἐριστικός, Περὶ τοῦ μανθάνειν προβλήματα. To the second, Περὶ ζῴων φύσεως, Περὶ φύσεως (perhaps the same which Cicero mentions N. D. i. 13, 32), Ἐρώτημα περὶ φύσεως. A commentary on the writings of Heraclitus, which Diog. ix. 15 mentions, does not belong to him. See Zeller, Phil. d. Griech. i. 527, and Krische, p. 238. So little, however, is known of these writings, that no coclusions can be arrived at which contradict the above assumptions. His logical writings, to judge by their titles, appear to have contained those polemical dissertations on conceptions, judgments, and expressions, which were required as a foundation for critical researches. Of the writings on Physics, it is not known whether they treat of other than those natural subjects, which Antisthenes required immediately for his Ethics, in order to bring out the difference between nature and custom and the conditions of a life of nature. Even the treatise Περὶ ζῴων φύσεως may have had this object. Probably Plato, Phileb. 44, B, reckoned Antisthenes among the μάλα δεινοὺς λεγομένους τὰ περὶ φύσιν vow, only because in all questions about morals and prevailing customs, he invariably referred to the requirements of nature.
|295| The utterances of Antisthenes on logic, so far as they are known to us, consist in a polemic against the philosophy of conceptions, the object of which is to prove the impossibility of speculative knowledge. Likewise his remarks upon nature have for their object to show, what is natural for man. For this no deep research seemed necessary to him or his followers; 1 a healthy intelligence can tell everyone what he ought to know; anything further is only useless subtlety.
(2) Logic. In support of these views Antisthenes put forward a theory, based it is true on a leading position of Socrates, 2 but one, nevertheless, which in its expanded form and in its sceptical results plainly shows the disciple of Gorgias. Socrates having required the essence and conception of every object to be investigated before anything further could be predicated of it, Antisthenes likewise required the conception of things what they are or were to be determined. 3
1 Even Cicero ad Attic. xii. 38, calls Antisthenes ‘homo acutus magis quam eruditus.’
2 Compare the relation of this theory to the doctrine of ideas, and what Diog. 39, Simpl: 236, b, m, 278, b, u, says of Diogenes, with what the Scholiast on Arist. Categor. p. 22, b, 40 says of Antisthenes. Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 66, only asserts of a Cynic in general: that he refutes the arguments against motion by walking up and down. Similarly Diogenes in Diag. 38.
3 Diog. vi. 3: Πρῶτός τε ὡρίσατο λόγον εἰπών, λόγος ἐστὶν ὁ τὸ τί ἦν ἢ ἔστι δηλῶν. Alexander in Top. 24, m, Schol. in Arist. 256, b, 12, on the Aristotelian τί ἦν εἶναι: says that the simple τί ἦν, which Antisthenes wanted, is not sufficient.
|296| Confining himself, however, exclusively to this point of view, he arrived at the conclusion of the Sophists, 1 that every object can only be called by its own peculiar name, and consequently that no subject can admit a predicate differing from the conception of the subject. Thus it cannot be said that a man is good, but only that a man is human, or that the Good is good. 2
1 See Zeller, Phil. d. Griech. 904.
2 Arist. Metaph. v. 29; 1024, b, 33: Ἀντισθένης ᾤετο εὐήθως μηθὲν ἀξιῶν λέγεσθαι πλὴν τῷ οἰκείῳ λόγῳ, ἓν ἐφ᾽ ἑνός: ἐξ ὧν συνέβαινε μὴ εἶναι ἀντιλέγειν, σχεδὸν δὲ μηδὲ ψεύδεσθαι. Alexander on the passage. Plato, Soph. 251, B: ὅθεν γε οἶμαι τοῖς τε νέοις καὶ τῶν γερόντων τοῖς ὀψιμαθέσι θοίνην παρεσκευάκαμεν: εὐθὺς γὰρ ἀντιλαβέσθαι παντὶ πρόχειρον ὡς ἀδύνατον τά τε πολλὰ ἓν καὶ τὸ ἓν πολλὰ εἶναι, καὶ δήπου χαίρουσιν οὐκ ἐῶντες ἀγαθὸν λέγειν ἄνθρωπον, ἀλλὰ τὸ μὲν ἀγαθὸν ἀγαθόν, τὸν δὲ ἄνθρωπον ἄνθρωπον.—Cf. Philebus 14, C.; Arist. Soph. El. c. 17, 175, b, 15; Phys. i. 2, 185, b, 25; Simpl. in loc. p. 20; Isokr. Hel. i. 1, and particularly what is said p. 276, 1, respecting Stilpo. Hermann, Sokr. Syst. p. 30, once thought to discern in these sentences of Antisthenes, a great progress as proving that Antisthenes recognised all analytical judgments a priori as such to be true, but has since been obliged to modify his opinion (Plat. i. 217, Ges. Abh. 239), on being reminded by Ritter (Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 133) that Antisthenes could only be speaking of identical judgments. Still he adheres to it so far as to state that by the teaching of Antisthenes, philosophy for the first time gave to identical judgments an independent value. In what this value consists, it is hard to say, for nothing is gained by recognising identical judgments, nor has it ever occurred to any philosopher to deny them, as Hermann, Ges. Abh. asserted though without quoting a single instance in support of it. Still less can it be a forward step in philosophy to deny all but identical judgments. On the contrary, such a denial is the result of an imperfect view of things, and is destructive of all knowledge.
Every explanation, moreover, of a conception consisting in making one conception clearer by means of another, he rejected all definitions, on the ground |297| that they are language which does not touch the thing itself. Allowing with regard to composite things, that their compouent parts could be enumerated, and that they could in this way be themselves explained, with regard to simple ones, he insisted all the more strongly that this was impossible. Compared these might be with others, but not defined. Names there might be of them, but not conceptions of qualities, a correct notion but no knowledge. 1
1 Arist. Metaph. viii. 3; 1043, b, 23: ὥστε ἡ ἀπορία ἣν οἱ Ἀντισθένειοι καὶ οἱ οὕτως ἀπαίδευτοι ἠπόρουν ἔχει τινὰ καιρόν, ὅτι οὐκ ἔστι τὸ τί ἔστιν ὁρίσασθαι（τὸν γὰρ ὅρον λόγον εἶναι μακρόν—see Metaph. xiv. 3; 1091, a, 7; and Schwegler on this passage. That this, too, belongs to the description of the teaching of Antisthenes, appears from Plato, Theaetet. 201, E, and is wrongly denied by Brandis, ii. b, 503; the expressions are indeed Aristotelian. Alexander, on the passage, explains it more fully, but without adding anything fresh. That this view was not first put forward by the disciples of Antisthenes, appears from Plato’s Theaetet. 201, E: ἐγὼ γὰρ αὖ ἐδόκουν ἀκούειν τινῶν ὅτι τὰ μὲν πρῶτα οἱονπερεὶ στοιχεῖα, ἐξ ὧν ἡμεῖς τε συγκείμεθα καὶ τἆλλα, λόγον οὐκ ἔχοι. αὐτὸ γὰρ καθ᾽ αὑτὸ ἕκαστον ὀνομάσαι μόνον εἴη, προσειπεῖν δὲ οὐδὲν ἄλλο δυνατόν, οὔθ᾽ ὡς ἔστιν...ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ τὸ ‘αὐτὸ’ οὐδὲ τὸ ‘ἐκεῖνο’ οὐδὲ τὸ ‘ἕκαστον’ οὐδὲ τὸ ‘μόνον’ οὐδὲ ‘τοῦτο’ προσοιστέον οὐδ᾽ ἄλλα πολλὰ τοιαῦτα: ταῦτα μὲν γὰρ περιτρέχοντα πᾶσι προσφέρεσθαι, ἕτερα ὄντα ἐκείνων οἷς προστίθεται, δεῖν δέ, εἴπερ ἦν δυνατὸν αὐτὸ λέγεσθαι καὶ εἶχεν οἰκεῖον αὑτοῦ λόγον, ἄνευ τῶν ἄλλων ἁπάντων λέγεσθαι. νῦν δὲ ἀδύνατον εἶναι ὁτιοῦν τῶν πρώτων ῥηθῆναι λόγῳ: οὐ γὰρ εἶναι αὐτῷ ἀλλ᾽ ἢ ὀνομάζεσθαι μόνον—ὄνομα γὰρ μόνον ἔχειν—τὰ δὲ ἐκ τούτων ἤδη συγκείμενα, ὥσπερ αὐτὰ πέπλεκται, οὕτω καὶ τὰ ὀνόματα αὐτῶν συμπλακέντα λόγον γεγονέναι: ὀνομάτων γὰρ συμπλοκὴν εἶναι λόγου οὐσίαν. This whole description agrees with what has been quoted from Aristotle so entirely, trait for trait, that we cannot possibly refer it to any one else but Antisthenes. It is all the more remarkable that Plato repeatedly (201, C; 202, C) affirms the truth of his description. In modern times, Schleiermacher, Pl. W. ii. 1 and 184, was the first to recognise the reference to Antisthenes. His opinion is shared by Brandis, Gr.-Röm. Phil. ii. a, 202, f; Susemihi, Genet. Entw. d. Plat. Phil. i. 200; Schwegler and Bonitz on Arist., l. c., but contradicted by Hermann (Plat. 499, 659) and Stalibaum (De Arg. Theaetet. ii.f). Steinhart (Plat. W. iii. 16, 204, 20) finds that the explanation of knowledge, as here given, corresponds with the mind of Antisthenes, but refuses notwithstanding to deduce it from him. Schleiermacher (as Brandis, ii. a, 203; Susemihl, pp. 200, 341, remark) has not the slightest right to think the reference is to the Megarians in Theaet. 201, D. What is there stated agrees most fully with the statements of Aristotle touching Antisthenes, whereas no such principle is known of the School of Megara. We may, therefore, endorse Schleiermacher’s conjecture (Pl. W. ii. b, 19) that the Cratylus was in great part directed against Antisthenes—a conjecture which appears to harmonise with the view that Antisthenes was the expounder of Heraclitus. It is opposed by Brandis, ii. a, 285, f. Nor yet would we venture to attribute to Antisthenes a theory of monads connecting it with the theory of ideas (Susemihi, i. 202, in connection with Hermann, Ges. Abh. 240). What we know of him does not go beyond the principle, that the simple elements of things cannot be defined; what he understood by simple elements may be gathered from the example quoted from Arist. Metaph. vii. 3, of the silver and the tin.
The characteristic of a thing, however, the |298| name which can never be defined, the conception of the subject which is borrowed from nothing else, and therefore can never be a predicate, consists only in its proper name. By this it is known when it can be explained by nothing else. All that is real is strictly individual. General conceptions do not express the nature of things, but they express men’s thoughts about them. Plato having derived from the Socratic demand for a knowledge of conceptions a system of the most decided Realism, Antisthenes derives therefrom a Nominalism quite as decided. General conceptions are only fictions of thought. Horses and |299| men are seen, not, however, the conception of a horse or a man. 1 From this position he opened a campaign against his fellow pupil, with whom he was for other reasons not on good terms, 2 but his fire was met with corresponding spirit. 3
1 Simpl. in Categ. Schol. in Arist. 66, b, 45, says: τῶν δὲ παλαιῶν οἱ μὲν ὰνῄρουν τὰς ποιότητας τελέως τὸ ποιὸν συγχωροῦντες εἶναι: (the terminology of course belongs to the Stoics) ὥσπερ Ἀυτισθεένης ὅς ποτε Πλάττωνι διαμϕισβητῶν, 'ὦ Πλάττων,' ἔϕη, 'ἳππον μὲυ ὁπῶ, ἱππότητα δὲ οὐχ ὁπῶ, to which Plato gave the excellent answer: True, for you have the eye with which you see a horse, but you are deficient in the eye with which you see the idea of horse. Ibid. 67, b, 18; Ibid. 68, b, 26: Ἀντισθένην καὶ τοὺς περὶ αὐτὸν λέγοντας, ἄνθρωπον ὁρῶ ἀνθρωπότητα δὲ οὐχ ὁρῶ. Quite the same, Ibid. 20, 2,a. Diog. vi. 53, tells the same story of Diogenes and Plato, with this difference, that he uses τραπεζότης and κυαθότης instead of ἀνθρωπότης. Ammon. in Porph. Isag. 22, b, says: ἀνθρωπότης, and then he mentions ἀνθρωπότης and ἱππότης as examples. The same language, almost word for word, is found in Tzetz. Chil. vii. 605, f. Plato is no doubt referring to this assertion of Antisthenes, when in the Parm. 132, B, he quotes an objection to the theory of ideas, μὴ τῶν εἰδῶν ἕκαστον ᾖ τούτων νόημα, καὶ οὐδαμοῦ αὐτῷ προσήκῃ ἐγγίγνεσθαι ἄλλοθι ἢ ἐν ψυχαῖς.
2 The character and position in life of the two men was widely different. Plato must have felt himself as much repelled by the plebeian roughness of a proletarian philosopher as Antisthenes would have been annoyed by the refined delicacy of Plato.
3 Compare (besides what is said, p. 292, 2) Plato, Soph. 251, C., and the anecdotes in Diog. iii. 35, vi. 7; also the corresponding ones about Plato and Diogenes, which are partially fictions, in vi. 25; 40; 54; 58; Aelian, V. H. xiv. 33; Theo. Progym. p. 205; Stodb. Floril. 13, 37. As to the picked fowl story in Diog. 40, compare Plato, Polit. 266, B.; Göttling, p. 264. For the Cynical attack
which Antisthenes made on Plato in his Σάθων, see Diog. iii. 35, vi. 16; Athen. v. 220, d, xi. 507, a. A trace of Antisthenes’ polemic against the doctrine of ideas is found in the Euthydemus of Plato, 301, A. Plato there meets the assertion of the Sophist that the beautiful is only beautiful by the presence of beauty, by saying: ἐὰν οὖν, ἔφη, παραγένηταί σοι βοῦς, βοῦς εἶ, καὶ ὅτι νῦν ἐγώ σοι πάρειμι, Διονυσόδωρος εἶ; We may suppose that Antisthenes really made use of the illustration of the ox, to which Plato then replied by making use of the same illustration in the person of Dionysodorus. Steinhart (Plato’s Leben, 14, 266) considers the Σάθων spurious. He will not credit Antisthenes with such a scurrilous production.
Holding these views |300|
it is only natural that Antisthenes should have attached the greatest importance to enquiries respecting names. 1 Stopping at names and refusing to allow any further utterances respecting things, he in truth made all scientific enquiry impossible. This fact he partially admitted, drawing from his premises the conclusion that it is impossible to contradict yourself 2
1 Antisth. in Epict. Diss. i. 17, 12: ἀρχὴ παιδεύσεως ἡ τῶν ὀνομάτων ἐπίσκεψις. It is a pity that we do not know more accurately the sense and the connection of this saying. As it is, we cannot judge whether it required an individual enquiry into the most important names, or only a general enquiry into nature and the meaning of names, which the principles contained in the above should develope. Respecting the theory that Antisthenes held to the etymologies of Heraclitus, see p. 297, 1.
2 Arist. Metaph. v. 29; see 296, 1; Top. i. 11; 104, b, 20: οὐκ ἔστιν ἀντιλέγειν, καθάπερ ἔϕη Ἀντισθένης, which Alex. (Schol. in Arist. 732, a, 30; similarly as the passage in the topics, Ibid. 259, b, 13) thus explains. Prantl, Gesch. d. Log. i. 33, mentions later writers, who, however, only repeat Aristotle’s sayings. In exactly the same way Plato’s Dionysodorus (Euthyd. 285, E) establishes his assertion, that it is impossible to contradict: εἰσὶν ἑκάστῳ τῶν ὄντων λόγοι; πάνυ γε. οὐκοῦν ὡς ἔστιν ἕκαστον ἢ ὡς οὐκ ἔστιν; ὡς ἔστιν. εἰ γὰρ μέμνησαι, ἔφη, ὦ Κτήσιππε, καὶ ἄρτι ἐπεδείξαμεν μηδένα λέγοντα ὡς οὐκ ἔστι: τὸ γὰρ μὴ ὂν οὐδεὶς ἐφάνη λέγων. τί οὖν δὴ τοῦτο; ἦ δ᾽ ὃς ὁ Κτήσιππος: ἧττόν τι ἀντιλέγομεν ἐγώ τε καὶ σύ; πότερον οὖν...ἀντιλέγοιμεν ἂν τοῦ αὐτοῦ πράγματος λόγον ἀμφότεροι λέγοντες, ἢ οὕτω μὲν ἂν δήπου ταὐτὰ λέγοιμεν; συνεχώρει. ἀλλ᾽ ὅταν μηδέτερος, ἔφη, τὸν τοῦ πράγματος λόγον λέγῃ, τότε ἀντιλέγοιμεν ἄν; ἢ οὕτω γε τὸ παράπαν οὐδ᾽ ἂν μεμνημένος εἴη τοῦ πράγματος οὐδέτερος ἡμῶν; καὶ τοῦτο συνωμολόγει. ἀλλ᾽ ἄρα, ὅταν ἐγὼ μὲν τὸν τοῦ πράγματος λόγον λέγω, σὺ δὲ ἄλλου τινὸς ἄλλον, τότε ἀντιλέγομεν; ἢ ἐγὼ λέγω μὲν τὸ πρᾶγμα, σὺ δὲ οὐδὲ λέγεις τὸ παράπαν; ὁ δὲ μὴ λέγων τῷ λέγοντι πῶς ἂν ἀντιλέγοι; Plato probably had Antisthenes in his eye, although this line of argyment had not originated with him. Conf. Beller, l. c. i. 905, and Diog. ix. 53: τὸν Ἀντισθένους λόγον τὸν πειρώμενον ἀποδεικνύειν ὡς οὐκ ἔστιν ἀντιλέγειν, οὗτος (Protagoras) πρῶτος διείλεκται, καθά φησι Πλάτων ἐν Εὐθυδήμῳ. (286, c). Here, too, belongs the saying of Antisthenes in Stob. Flor. 82, 8, that contradiction ought never to be used, but only persuasion. A madman will not be brought to his senses by another’s raving. Contradiction is madness; for he who contradicts, does what is in the nature of things impossible. Of this subject the Σάθων ἢ περὶ τοῦ ἀνπλέγειν treated.
Taken strictly the inference from these |301| premises is not only that drawn by Aristotle 1 that no false propositions, but also that no propositions of any kind are possible. The doctrine of Antisthenes was logically destructive of all knowledge and every kind of judgment.
C. Cynic Theory of Morality
Not that the Cynics were themselves disposed to renounce knowledge in consequence. Four books came from the pen of Antisthenes, respecting the difference between knowledge and opinion. 2 Indeed, the whole School prided itself in no small degree on having advanced beyond the deceptive sphere of opinions, 3 and being in full possession of truth.
1 See p. 296, 1, Procl. in Crat. 37. Conf. Plato, Crat. 429, D.
2 Περὶ δόξης καὶ ἐπιστήμης, Diog. 17. Doubtless this treatise contained the explanation given p. 253, 1.
3 Diog. 83 says of Monimus: οὗτος μὲν ἐμβριθέστατος ἐγένετο, ὥστε δόξης μὲν καταφρονεῖν, πρὸς δ᾽ ἀλήθειαν παρορμᾶν. Menander, Ibid. says of the same Cynic: τὸ γὰρ ὑποληὲν τῦϕον εἶναι πᾶν ἔϕη, and Sext. Math. viii. 5: Μόνιμος ὁ κύων τῦϕον εἰπὼν τὰ πάντα, ὅπερ οἴησις ἐστὶ τῶν οὐκ ὄντων ὡς ὄντων. Conf. M. Aurel. πρ. ἑαυτ. ii. 15. On this ground the later Sceptics wished to reckon Monimus one of themselves, but wrongly so. What he says has only reference to the worthlessness of common opinion and what it considers a good. In Lucian v. Auct. 8, Diogenes calls himself a prophet of truth and freedom.
|302| With them, however, knowledge is directed entirely to a practical end, that of making men virtuous, and happy in being virtuous. 1 As the highest object in life the Cynics, herein agreeing with all other moral philosophers, regarded happiness. 2 Happiness being in general distinguished from virtue, or, at least, not united to virtue, they regard the two as absolutely identical. Nothing is good but virtue, nothing an evil but vice; what is neither the one nor the other is for man indifferent. 3 For each thing that only can be a good which belongs to it. 4
1 See p. 292.
2 Diog. ii.: αὐτάρκη τὴν ἀρετὴν πρὸς εὐδαιμονίαν, so that happiness is the end, and virtue the means. Stob. Ecl. 103, 20, 21.
3 Diog. vi. 104: Ἀρέσκει δ᾽ αὐτοῖς καὶ λιτῶς βιοῦν, αὐτάρκεσι χρωμένοις σιτίοις καὶ τρίβωσι μόνοις, πλούτου καὶ δόξης καὶ εὐγενείας καταφρονοῦσιν. ἔνιοι116 γοῦν καὶ βοτάναις καὶ παντάπασιν ὕδατι χρῶνται ψυχρῷ σκέπαις. Ibid. 105: τὰ δὲ μεταξὺ ἀρετῆς καὶ κακίας ἀδιάφορα λέγουσιν ὁμοίως Ἀρίστωνι τῷ Χίῳ.. Diocles. in Diog. vi. 12 says of Antisthenes: τἀγαθὰ καλά, τὰ κακὰ αἰσχρά. Epiph. Exp. Fid. 1089, C: ἔϕησε [Diogenes] τὸ ἀγαθὸν οἰστὸν τοἰκεῖον παντὶ σοϕῷ εἶναι τὰ δ' ἄλλα πάντα οὐδὲν ἢ ϕλυαρίας ὑπάρχειν. Whether the epigram of Athen. in Diog. vi. 14, refers to the Cynics or the Stoics is not quite clear. ὦ στωικῶν μύθων εἰδήμονες, ὦ πανάριστα δόγματα ταῖς ἱεραῖς ἐνθέμενοι σελίσιν, τὰν ἀρετὰν ψυχᾶς ἀγαθὸν μόνον: ἅδε γὰρ ἀνδρῶν μούνα καὶ βιοτὰν ῥύσατο καὶ πόλιας. According to Diogenes it would appear as though the Stoic doctrine that virtue is the only good were therein attributed to the Cynics.
4 This maxim follows from Diog. 12, who states as the teaching of Antisthenes: τὰ πονηρὰ νόμιζε πάντα ξενικά. Compare Plato, Symp. 205, E: οὐ γὰρ τὸ ἑαυτῶν οἶμαι ἕκαστοι ἀσπάζονται, εἰ μὴ εἴ τις τὸ μὲν ἀγαθὸν οἰκεῖον καλεῖ καὶ ἑαυτοῦ, τὸ δὲ κακὸν ἀλλότριον. In the Charm. 163, C. Critias says, only the useful and good is οἰκεῖον. Although Antisthenes is not here mentioned by name, yet the passage in Diogenes makes it probable that the antithesis of ἀγαθὸν and οἰκεῖον belongs to him, even if he was not the first to introduce it.
The only real |303| thing which belongs to man is mind. 1 Everything else is a matter of chance. Only in his mental and moral powers is he independent. Intelligence and virtue constitute the only armour from which all the attacks of fortune recoil; 2 that man only is free who is the servant of no external ties and no desires for things without. 3
Thus man requires nothing to make him happy but virtue. 4 All else he order to content himself may learn to despise, in with virtue alone. 5
1 Compare p. 293, 6; Xen. Symp. 4, 34, puts words to the same effect in the mouth of Antisthenes: νομίζω, ὦ ἄνδρες, τοὺς ἀνθρώπους οὐκ ἐν τῷ οἴκῳ τὸν πλοῦτον καὶ τὴν πενίαν ἔχειν ἀλλ᾽ ἐν ταῖς ψυχαῖς.; this is then further expanded; and Epictet. Diss. iii. 24, 68, makes Diogenes say of Antisthenes: ‘ἐδίδαξέν με τὰ ἐμὰ καὶ τὰ οὐκ ἐμά. κτῆσις οὐκ ἐμή: συγγενεῖς, οἰκεῖοι, φίλοι, φήμη, συνήθεις τόποι, διατριβή, πάντα ταῦτα ὅτι ἀλλότρια. ‘σὸν οὖν τί; χρῆσις φαντασιῶν.’ ταύτην ἔδειξέν μοι ὅτι ἀκώλυτον ἔχω, ἀνανάγκαστον κ.τ.λ. We have, however, certainly not got the very words of Diogenes or Antisthenes.
2 Diog. 12 (teaching of Antisthenes): ἀναφαίρετον ὅπλον ἡ ἀρετή...Τεῖχος ἀσφαλέστατον φρόνησιν: μήτε γὰρ καταρρεῖν μήτε προδίδοσθαι. The same is a little differently expressed by Epiph. Exp. Fid. 1089, C. Diog. 63 says of Diogenes: ἐρωτηθεὶς τί αὐτῷ περιγέγονεν ἐκ φιλοσοφίας, ἔφη, εἰ καὶ μηδὲν ἄλλο, τὸ γοῦν πρὸς πᾶσαν τύχην παρεσκευάσθαι.—and 105: Ἀρέσκει αὐτοῖς τύχῃ μηδὲν ἐπιτρέπειν. Stob. Ecl. ii. 348: Διογένης ἔϕη ὁρᾷν τὴν Τύχην ἐνορῶσαν αὐτῷ καὶ λέγουσαν· τοῦτον δ' οὐ δύναμαιβαλέειν κύνα λυσσητῆρα. (The same verse is applied by David, Schol. in Arist. 23, to Antisthenes.) Conf. Stob. Floril. 108, 71.
3 This is what Diogenes says of himself in; Diss. iii. 24, 67: ἐξ οὗ μ᾽ Ἀντισθένης ἠλευθέρωσεν, οὐκέτι ἐδούλευσα, and he also asserts in Diog. 71 that he led the life of a Hercules, μηδὲν ἐλευθερίας προκρίνων. Crates in Clem. Strom. ii. 413, A. (Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 49, p. 172) praises the Cynics, and he exhorts his Hipparchia.
4 See note 2.
5 See Diog. 104: Ἀρέσκει δ᾽ αὐτοῖς καὶ λιτῶς βιοῦν, αὐτάρκεσι χρωμένοις σιτίοις καὶ τρίβωσι μόνοις, πλούτου καὶ δόξης καὶ εὐγενείας καταφρονοῦσιν. Diog. 24. pict. Diss. i, 24, 6.
For |304| what is wealth without virtue? A prey for flatterers and venal menials, a temptation for avarice, this root of all evil, a fountain of untold crimes and deeds of shame, a possession for ants and dung-beetles, a thing bringing neither glory nor enjoyment. 1 Indeed what else can wealth be, if it be true that wealth and virtue can never dwell together, 2 the Cynic’s beggar-life being the only straight way to wisdom? 3 What are honour and shame? The talk of fools, about which no child of reason will trouble himself? For in truth facts are the very opposite of what we think. Honour amongst men is an evil. To be despised by them is a good, since it keeps us back from vain attempts. Glory only falls to his lot, who seeks it not. 4
1 Antisth. in Stob. Floril. i. 30; 10, 42; Xen. Sym. 4, 35; Diog. in Diog. 47; 50; 60; Galen. Exhort. c. 7, i. 10, K. Metrocles in Diog. 95; Crates in Stob. 97, 27; 15, 10; the same in Julian, Or. vi. 199, D.
2 Stob. Floril. 93, 35: Διογέησν ἔλεγε, μήτε πόλει πλουσίᾳ μήτε ἐν οἰκίᾳ ἀρετὴν οἰκεῖν δύνασθαι. Crates therefore disposed of his property, and is said to have settled that it should only be restored to his children when they ceased to be philosophers (Diog. 88, on the authority of Demetrius Magnes). Unfortunately, however, Crates can at that time have neither had a wife nor children.
3 Diog. 104; Diog. in Stob. Floril. 95, 11; 19. See Lucian V. Auct. 11; Crates in Epiph. Exp. Fid. 1089, C: ἐλευθερίας εἶναι τὴν ἀκυημοσύνην.
4 Epict. Diss. i. 24, 6: (Diogenes) λέγει, ὅτι εὐδοξία (Winckelmann, p. 47, suggests ὰδοξία, which certainly might be expected from what preceded) ψόϕος ἐστι μαινομένων ὰνθρώπων. Diog. 11 says of Antisth.: τήν τ᾽ ἀδοξίαν ἀγαθὸν καὶ ἴσον τῷ πόνῳ., and 72: εὐγενείας δὲ καὶ δόξας καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα πάντα διέπαιζε, (Diogenes), προκοσμήματα κακίας εἶναι λέγων. In 41 he speaks of δόξης ἐξανθήματα. In 92: ἔλεγε δὲ(Crates) μέχρι τούτου δεῖν φιλοσοφεῖν, μέχρι ἂν δόξωσιν οἱ στρατηγοὶ εἶναι ὀνηλάται. Compare also 93. Doxopater in Aphthon. c. 2, Rhet. Gr. i. 192, says that Diogenes, in answer to the question, How is honour to be gained? replied ‘By not troubling yourself at all about honour.’
What |305| is death? Clearly not an evil. For only what is bad 1 is an evil: and death we do not experience to be an evil, since we have no further experience when we are dead. 2 All these things are then only empty fancies, 3 nothing more. Wisdom consists in holding one’s thoughts free from them. 4 The most worthless and the most harmful thing is—what men most covet—pleasure. Pleasure the Cynics not only deny to be a good, 5 but they declare it to be the greatest evil; and a saying is preserved of Antisthenes, that he would rather be mad than pleased. 6
1 Epict. l. c.: λέγει, ὅτι ὁ θάνατος οὐκ ἔστε κακὸν, οὐδὲ γὰρ αἰσχρόν. See p. 302, 3.
2 Diogenes in Diog. 68. Conf. Cic. Tusc. i. 43, 104. Evidently the Cynic here is not thinking of immortality, nor does it follow from the remark of Antisthenes on Il. xxiii. 15 (Schol. Venet. in Winckelmann, p. 28) to the effect that the souls have the same forms as their bodies.
3 Or as the Cynics technically call it, mere smoke, τῦϕος, See Miog, 26, 83, 86, and p. 301, 3.
4 Clemens. Strom. ii. 417, B. (Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xi. 8, p. 152): Antisthenes μὲν τὴν ἀτυϕίαν (τέλος ἀπέϕῃνει).
5 As Crates—probably the Cynic—proves in Teles. in Stob. Floril. 98, 72 by the consideration, that the human life from beginning to end brings far more unhappiness than pleasure; if therefore the πλεονόζουσαι ήδοναὶ were the measure of happiness, a happy man could not be found.
6 Diog. vi. 3: ελεγέ τε συηνεχές · μανείηνἔ μᾶλλον ἢ ἡσθείην. Ib. ix. 101. Conf, Sext, Math, xi. 741: [ἡ ἡδονὴ δοξάζεται] κακὸν ὑπ' Ἀντισθένους. The same in Gell. ix. 5, 3; Clemens. Stromat. ii. 412, D; Eus. Pr. Ev, xv. 13, 7 (Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 47, p. 172). Conf. Diog. vi. 8, 14, and p. 258, 4. Plato is no doubt referring to this Cynical dictum, Phileb. 44, C: λίαν μεμισηκότων τὴν τῆς ἡδονῆς δύναμιν καὶ νενομικότων οὐδὲν ὑγιές, ὥστε καὶ αὐτὸ τοῦτο αὐτῆς τὸ ἐπαγωγὸν γοήτευμα, [44δ] οὐχ ἡδονήν, εἶναι, and Arist. Eth. x. 1, 1172, a, 27: οἳ μὲν γὰρ τἀγαθὸν ἡδονὴν λέγουσιν, οἳ δ᾽ ἐξ ἐναντίας κομιδῇ φαῦλον. Ib, vii. 12, 1152, b, 8: τοῖς μὲν οὖν δοκεῖ οὐδεμία ἡδονὴ εἶναι ἀγαθόν, οὔτε καθ᾽ αὑτὸ οὔτε κατὰ συμβεβηκός: οὐ γὰρ εἶναι ταὐτὸ τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἡδονὴ. Compare p. 296.
Where the desire of pleasure becomes unbridled passion, as in love, |306| where man lowers himself to be the slave of his desires, there no means can be too violent to eradicate it. 1 Conversely, what most men fear, labour and toil, are good, because they only bring man to that state, in which he can be independent. 2 Hercules 3 is therefore the patron-saint and pattern for the Cynic, 4 no one else having fought his way through so arduous and toilsome a life for the good of mankind, with so much courage and vigour. In support of this view, Antisthenes appears to have argued that pleasure is nothing but the pause after pain. 5
1 Clemens, l. c. 406, C: I agree with Antisthenes when he says, “Could I catch Aphrodite, I would shoot her; for she has destroyed many of our beautiful and good women.” And he says that “Love is a vice of nature, and the wretches who fall under its power call the disease a deity.” Crates in Diog. vi. 86 (Clemens. Strom. ii. 412, D; Theod. l. c. xii. 49; Julian, Or. vi. 198, D): ἔρωτα λύει λιμός, ἂν δὲ τούτῳ χρῆσθαι μὴ δύνῃ, βρόχος. On the same subject compare also Diog. vi. 38; 51; 67; Stob. Floril. 64, 1; 6, 2; 18, 27; Diog. 66: τοὺς μὲν οἰκέτας ἔφη τοῖς δεσπόταις, τοὺς δὲ φαύλους ταῖς ἐπιθυμίαις δουλεύειν. See p. 303, 3.
2 Diog. vi. 2, says of Antisthenes: καὶ ὅτι ὁ πόνος ἀγαθὸν συνέστησε διὰ τοῦ Ήρακλέους καὶ τοῦ Κύρον. Diogenes says in Exc. e Floril. Jo. Damasc. ii. 13, 87 (Stod. Floril. ed. Mein. iv. 200) that boys, if they are to come to any good, ought to be educated by abstemiousness, as early as they are susceptible of culture.
3 Who had also a temple near Cynosarges.
4 Antisthenes speaks of two Herculeses, Diog. 2, 18. Winckelmann, p. 15. Diogenes says of himself in Diog. 71: τὸν αὐτὸν χαρακτῆρα τοῦ βίου λέγων διεξάγειν ὅνπερ καὶ Ἡρακλῆς, μηδὲν ἐλευθερίας προκρίνων. Therefore Eus. Pr. Ev. xv. 18, 7, calls Antisthenes Ήρακλεωτικός τις ἀνὴρ τὸ ϕρόνημα; and in Lucian V. Auct. 8, Diogenes replies to the query as to whom he was imitating: τὸν Ἡρακλέα., at the same time showing his stick for a club, and his philosopher’s cloak for a lion’s skin, with the addition, which probably comes from a Cynic writing: στρατεύομαι δὲ ὥσπερ ἐκεῖνος ἐπὶ τὰς ἡδονάς... ἐκκαθᾶραι τὸν βίον προαιρούμενος... ἐλευθερωτής εἰμι τῶν ἀνθρώπων καὶ ἰατρὸς τῶν παθῶν. See Dens. Cyn. 13, Julian, Or. vi. 187, C.
5 Plato, Phileb. 44, B, (Conf. 51, A; Rep. ix. 583, B) speaks of people, as μάλα δεινοὺς λεγομένους τὰ περὶ ϕύσιν, οἳ τοπαράπαν ἡδονὰς οὔ ϕασιν εἶναι, for they maintain λυπῶν ταύτας εἶναι πάσας ὰποϕυγὰς ἃς νῦν οἱ περὶ Φίληβον ἡδονὰς ἐπονομάζουσιν. This passage refers without doubt to Antisthenes. Wendt (Phil. Cyren. 17, 1) applies it to philosophers who declare freedom from pain to be the highest good. Grote, Plato, ii. 609, thinks of the Pythagoreans, from whom he imagines Speusippus derived his theory of pleasure. no philosophers of Plato’s age are known to us who made freedom from pain the highest good, As to the Pythagoreans, we know of their asceticism, but no ethical theory of theirs is known to us thoroughly rejecting pleasure. On the other hand we know that Antisthenes did reject pleasure. The probability is, therefore, that Plato in writing this passage had Antisthenes in his eye. That the expression δεινοὺς περὶ ϕύσιν is no obstacle to this view, has been already indicated, p. 294, 4; the expression not referring to physical research, but to the practical enquiry as to what is conformable to nature, to which Antisthenes wanted to go back without including pleasure thereunder. If the further objection is raised, that the opponents of pleasure here referred to, hate (according to Phil. 46, A) τὰς τῶν ἀσχήμων ἡδονάς, whereas the Cynics allowed no difference between things seemly and unseemly, this rests on a misapprehension; for the ἡδοναὶ τῶν ἀσχημόνων are, as the context shows, condemned by the opponents of pleasure, not because of their unseemliness, but because they are always combined with unhappiness. Nor can we assert that Plato would not have spoken of Antisthenes with so much consideration as he here does (44, C). If he at one time of life replied to his sallies with appropriate severity (see p. 292, 2; 299, 3), it does not follow that after the lapse of years, and in respect of a question on which their views more nearly approximated, he could not express himself more gently and appreciatingly. Yet even here he will not allow to him the properly scientific capacity, the τέχνη.
On this |307| supposition it will appear absurd to pursue pleasure; which can only be attained by having previously experienced a corresponding amount of pain.
From this rigid development of their principles to which Antisthenes had been brought, partly by his own natural temperament, 1
1 Plato, l. c. continues: τούτοῖς οὖν ἡμᾶς πότερα πείθεσθαι συμβουλεύεις, ἢ τῶς, ὦ Σώκρατες—Οὔκ, ἀλλ' ὥσπερ μάντεσι προσχρῆσθαί τινι, μαντευομένοις οὐ τέχνῃ ἀλλά τινι δυσχερείᾳ ϕύσεως οὔκ ἀγεννοῦς, λίαν, κ.τ.λ. See p. 305, 6.
partly from regard to |308| it as a means of education, 1 the Cynics, however, so far departed, as to recognise a certain kind of pleasure to be legitimate. Pleasure which is not followed by
remorse, 2 or more accurately, pleasure resulting from labour and effort, 3 is said to have been called a good, even by Antisthenes. In Stobaeus, 4 Diogenes recommends justice as the most useful and at the same time as the most pleasant thing, because it alone affords peace of mind, protects from trouble and sickness, and even secures bodily enjoyments. He also asserts, 5 that happiness consists in that true joy which can only be obtained by an unruffled cheerfulness of mind. Moreover, the Cynics when wishing to set forth the advantages of their philosophy, did not fail to follow in the steps of Socrates, by asserting that life with them was far more pleasant and independent than with other men, that their abstemiousness gave the right flavour to, enjoyment, and that mental delights
1 Arist. Eth. 1172 a: Some hold pleasure to be altogether a mistake: οἳ μὲν ἴσως πεπεισμένοι οὕτω καὶ ἔχειν, οἳ δὲ οἰόμενοι βέλτιον εἶναι πρὸς τὸν βίον ἡμῶν ἀποφαίνειν τὴν ἡδονὴν τῶν φαύλων, καὶ εἰ μὴ ἐστίν· ῥέπειν γὰρ τοὺς πολλοὺς πρὸς αὐτὴν καὶ δουλεύειν ταῖς ἡδοναῖς, διὸ δεῖν εἰς τοὐναντίον ἄγειν· ἐλθεῖν γὰρ ἂν οὕτως ἐπὶ τὸ μέσον. Diog. vi. 35: Μιμεῖσθαι ἔλεγε (Diogenes) τοὺς χοροδιδασκάλους: καὶ γὰρ ἐκείνους ὑπὲρ τόνον ἐνδιδόναι ἕνεκα τοῦ τοὺς λοιποὺς ἅψασθαι τοῦ προσήκοντος τόνου.
2 Athen, xii. 518, a: Ἀντισθένης δὲ τὴν ἡδονὴν ἀγαθὸν εἶναι ϕάσκων, προσέθηκε τὴν ἀμμεταϕίλητον, but we require to know the context in which Antisthenes uttered this.
3 Antisth. in Stob. Flor. 29, 65: ἡδονὰς τὰς μετα τοὺς πόνους δοωκτέον, ἀλλ' οὐχὶ τὰς πρὸ τῶυ πόνων.
4 Floril. 9, 49; 24, 14, where probably the Cynic Diogenes is alluded to. It is, however, a question whether the words are taken from a genuine writing of his.
5 Ibid. 103, 20; 21.
|309| afforded a far higher pleasure than sensual ones. 1 Still all that this language proves is, that their theory was imperfectly developed, and that their mode of expression was inaccurate, their meaning being that pleasure as such ought in no case to be an end, 2
1 Thus in Xen. Symp. 4, 34, where the description appears on the whole to be true, Antisthenes demonstrates that in his poverty he was the happiest of men. Food, drink, and sleep he enjoyed; better clothes he did not need; and from all these things he had more enjoyment than he liked; so little did he need that he was never embarrassed to think how he should find support; he had plenty of leisure to associate with Socrates, and if he wanted a pleasant day, there was no need to purchase the requisite materials in the market, but he had them ready in the soul. Diogenes in Diog. 71, speaks in a similar strain (not to mention Dio Chrys. Or. vi. 12; 33); he who has learned to despise pleasure, finds therein his highest pleasure; and in Plut. De Exil. 12, p. 605, he congratulates himself on not having, like Aristotle, to wait for Philip for breakfast; or like Callisthenes for Alexander (Diog. 45): to the virtuous man according to Diogenes (Plut. Tranq. An. 20, p. 477) every day is a festival. In like manner Plut. Tranquil. An. 4, says that Crates passed his life in jesting and joking, like one perpetual festival; and Metrocles (in Plutarch, An. Vitios. ad Infelic. 3, p. 499), like Diogenes (in Lucian, V. Auct. 9), blesses himself for being happier than the Persian king. See Diog. 44, 78.
2 As Ritter, ii. 121, has remarked, the difference between the teaching of Antisthenes and that of Aristippus might be thus expressed: Aristippus considered the result of the emotion of the soul to be the good; Antisthenes considered the emotion itself to be the end, and the value of the action to consist in the doing of it. Ritter, however, asks with justice whether Antisthenes ever went back so far as this, since it is never distinctly imputed to him. And in the same way it will be found that Aristippus never regarded pleasure as a state of rest, but as a state of motion for the soul. The contrary is not established by what Hermann, Ges. Abh. 237, f. alleges. Hermann proves, it is true, that Antisthenes considered the good to be virtuous activity, and that Aristippus took it to be pleasure, but he does not prove that Antisthenes and Aristippus spoke in explicit terms of the rest and the motion of the soul.
and that when it is anything more than a natural consequence |310| of action and of satisfying essential wants, it is a thing to be avoided.
From these considerations followed the conclusion that everything else excepting virtue and vice is indifferent for us, and that we in turn ought to be indifferent thereto. Only those who soar above poverty and wealth, shame and honour, ease and fatigue, life and death, and who are prepared to submit to any work and state in life, who fear no one, troubling themselves about nothing—only such as these offer no exposed places to fortune, and can therefore be free and happy. 1
(1) Virtue. As yet, here are only the negative conditions of happiness. What is the positive side corresponding thereto? Virtue alone bringing happiness, and the goods of the soul being alone worth possessing, in what does virtue consist? Virtue, replies Antisthenes, herein following Socrates and Euclid, consists in wisdom or prudence; 2
1 Diog. in Stob. Floril. 86, 19 (89, 4), says the noblest men are οἱ καταϕρονοῦντες πλούτου δόξης ἡδονῆς ζωῆς, τῶν δὲ ἐναντίωνὄντες, πενίας ἀδοξίας πόνου θανάτου. Diog. 29 says of the same: ἐπῄνει τοὺς μέλλοντας γαμεῖν καὶ μὴ γαμεῖν, καὶ τοὺς μέλλοντας καταπλεῖν καὶ μὴ καταπλεῖν, καὶ τοὺς μέλλοντας πολιτεύεσθαι καὶ μὴ πολιτεύεσθαι, καὶ τοὺς παιδοτροφεῖν καὶ μὴ παιδοτροφεῖν, καὶ τοὺς παρασκευαζομένους συμβιοῦν τοῖς δυνάσταις καὶ μὴ προσιόντας. Crates, Ibid. 86, says that what he had gained by philosophy was θέρμων τε ῖνιξ καὶ τὸ μηδενὸς μέλειν. Antis. in Stob. Floril. 8, 14: ὅστις δὲ ἑτέρους δέδοικε δούλος ὢν λέληθεν ἑαυτόν. Diogenes in Diog. 75: δούλου τὸ ϕοβεῖσθαι. See pp. 302, 2; 303, 2 and 3; 305, 4.
2 This follows from Diog, 13: τεῖχος ἀσφαλέστατον φρόνησιν...τείχη κατασκευαστέον ἐν τοῖς αὑτῶν ἀναλώτοις λογισμοῖς, if we connect with it his. maxims about the oneness and the teachableness of virtue, and his doctrine of the wise man.
and Reason is the only |311| thing which gives a value to life. 1 Hence, as his teacher had done before him, he concludes that virtue is one and indivisible, 2 that the same moral problem is presented to every class of men, 3 and that virtue is the result of teaching. 4 He further maintains that virtue is an inalienable possession; for what is once known can never be forgotten. 5 He thus bridges over a gulf 6 in the teaching of Socrates by a system in which Sophistical views 7 contributed no less than practical interests to make virtue in itself independent of everything external. 8
1 Compare the saying attributed to Antisthenes in Plut. Sto. Rep. 14, 7, p. 1040, and to Diogenes in Diog. 24: εἰς τὸν βίον παρεσκευάζεσθαι δεῖν λόγον ἢ βρόχον. Also Diog. 3.
2 Schol. Lips. on Il. O. 123 (Winckelmann, p. 28): Ἀντισθένης ϕησὶν,ὡς εἴ τι πράττει ὁ σοϕὸς κατὰ πᾶσαν ἀρετὴν ἐνερυεῖ.
3 Diog. 12 according to Diocles: ἀνδρὸς καὶ γυναικὸς ἡ αυτὴ ἀρετή.
4 Diog.10: διδακτὴν ἀπεδείκνυε τὴν ἀρετήν. 105: ἀρέσκει δ᾽ αὐτοῖς καὶ τὴν ἀρετὴν διδακτὴν εἶναι, καθά φησιν Ἀντισθένης ἐν τῷ Ἡρακλεῖ, καὶ ἀναπόβλητον ὑπάρχειν. Without doubt the reference in Isocr. Hel. i. 1 is also to Antisthenes. Isocrates quotes the passages just given, with the sentence of Antisthenes which was discussed p. 300, 2, added: καταγεγηράκασιν οἱ μὲν οὐ φάσκοντες οἷόν τ᾽ εἶναι ψευδῆ λέγειν οὐδ᾽ ἀντιλέγειν...οἱ δὲ διεξιόντες ὡς ἀνδρία καὶ σοφία καὶ δικαιοσύνη ταὐτόν ἐστι, καὶ φύσει μὲν οὐδὲν αὐτῶν ἔχομεν, μία δ᾽ ἐπιστήμη καθ᾽ ἁπάντων ἐστίν: ἄλλοι δὲ περὶ τὰς ἔριδας διατρίβουσι. The expression of οἱ μὲν...οἱ δὲ does not prove that the first of these statements belongs to a different school from that to which the second belongs.
5 Diog. 12: ἀναϕαίρετον ὅπλον ἡ ἀρετή. Xen. Mem. i. 2, 19: ἴσως οὖν εἴποιεν ἂν πολλοὶ τῶν φασκόντων φιλοσοφεῖν ὅτι οὐκ ἄν ποτε ὁ δίκαιος ἄδικος γένοιτο, οὐδὲ ὁ σώφρων ὑβριστής, οὐδὲ ἄλλο οὐδὲν ὧν μάθησίς ἐστιν ὁ μαθὼν ἀνεπιστήμων ἄν ποτε γένοιτο.
6 The maxim that prudence is insuperable. See p. 142, 3.
7 The maxim that you cannot forget what you know is only the converse: of the Sophistic maxim that you cannot learn what you do not know.
8 It is only independent of external circumstances, when it cannot be lost: for since the wise and virtuous man will never, as long as he continues wise and virtuous, forego his wisdom and virtue, and since, according to the teaching of Socrates, no one intentionally does wrong, it follows that XX. The knowledge can only be taken away by a cause foreign to the will of the individual.
Wherein, however, |312| true prudence consisted the Cynics could not say more precisely. If it were described as knowledge concerning the good, 1 this, as Plato justly observed, 2 was simply a tautology. If, on the contrary, it were said to consist in unlearning what is bad, 3 neither does this negative expression lead a single step further. So much only is clear, that the prudence of Antisthenes and his School invariably coincides with a right state of will, of firmness, of self-control and of uprightness, 4 thus bringing us back to the Socratic doctrine of the oneness of virtue and knowledge. Hence by learning virtue, they understood moral exercise rather than intellectual research. 5
1 Plato, Rep. vi. 505, B: ἀλλὰ μὴν καὶ τόδε γε οἶσθα, ὅτι τοῖς μὲν πολλοῖς ἡδονὴ δοκεῖ εἶναι τὸ ἀγαθόν, τοῖς δὲ κομψοτέροις φρόνησις...καὶ ὅτι γε, ὦ φίλε, οἱ τοῦτο ἡγούμενοι οὐκ ἔχουσι δεῖξαι ἥτις φρόνησις, ἀλλ᾽ ἀναγκάζονται τελευτῶντες τὴν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ φάναι. If the Cynics are not here exclusively meant, the passage at any rate refers to them.
2 Rep. vi. l. c.
3 Diog. 8, according to Phanias: (Ἀντισθένης) ἐρωτηθεὶς ὑπό του...τί ποιῶν καλὸς κἀγαθὸς ἔσοιτο, ἔφη, εἰ τὰ κακὰ ἃ ἔχεις ὅτι φευκτά ἐστι μάθοις παρὰ τὼν εἰδότων.
Ibid. 7: ἐρωτηθεὶς τί τῶν μαθημάτων ἀναγκαιότατον, τὸ περιαιρεῖν,
ἔφη, τὸ ἀπομανθάνειν.
The same is found in Exc. e Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 34 (Stob. Floril. ed. Mein. iv. 193).
4 Compare pp. 292, 1; 303, 2 and 3.
5 Here it may suffice to call to mind what has been said p. 292, 1, and what Diogenes in Diog. 70 says: διττὴν δ᾽ ἔλεγεν εἶναι τὴν ἄσκησιν, τὴν μὲν ψυχικήν, τὴν δὲ σωματικήν: ταύτην...(the text here appears faulty) καθ᾽ ἣν ἐν γυμνασίᾳ συνεχεῖς [συνεχεῖ] γινόμεναι [αὶ] φαντασίαι εὐλυσίαν πρὸς τὰ τῆς ἀρετῆς ἔργα παρέχονται. εἶναι δ᾽ ἀτελῆ τὴν ἑτέραν χωρὶς τῆς ἑτέρας...παρετίθετο δὲ τεκμήρια τοῦ ῥᾳδίως ἀπὸ τῆς γυμνασίας ἐν τῇ ἀρετῇ καταγίνεσθαι(to be at home in); for in every art practice makes perfect; 71: Οὐδέν γε μὴν ἔλεγε τὸ παράπαν ἐν τῷ βίῳ χωρὶς ἀσκήσεως κατορθοῦσθαι, δυνατὴν δὲ ταύτην πᾶν ἐκνικῆσαι.
They would not have recognised the Platonic and Aristotelian distinction between a conventional and a philosophical, an ethical and an intellectual virtue; |313| and in answer to Meno’s 1 question, whether virtue was produced by exercise or instruction, they would have replied, that practice was the best instruction.
(2) Wisdom and Folly. He who has attained to virtue by the help of the Cynic teaching, is a wise man. Everyone else is lacking in wisdom. To tell the advantages of the one, and the misery of the other, no words are too strong for the Cynics. The wise man never suffers want, for all things are his. He is at home everywhere, and can accommodate himself to any circumstances. Faultless and love-inspiring, fortune cannot touch him. 2 An image of the divinity, he lives with the Gods. His whole life is a festival, and the Gods, whose friend he is, bestow on him everything. 3 The reverse is the case with the great bulk of mankind. Most of them are mentally crippled, slaves of fancy, severed only by a finger’s breadth from madness. To find a real man, you must look for him with a lantern in broad daylight.
1 Plato, Meno, init.
2 Diog. 11: αὐτάρκη τ᾽ εἶναι τὸν σοφόν: πάντα γὰρ αὐτοῦ εἶναι τὰ τῶν ἄλλων. Ibid. 12 (according to Diocles): τῷ σοφῷ ξένον οὐδὲν οὐδ᾽ ἄπορον. ἀξιέραστος ὁ ἀγαθός. Ibid. 105: ἀξιέραστόν τε τὸν σοφὸν καὶ ἀναμάρτητον καὶ φίλον τῷ ὁμοίῳ, τύχῃ τε μηδὲν ἐπιτρέπειν. See p. 303, 2. The passage in Arist. Eth. N. vii. 1153, b, 19, probably also refers to the Cynics: οἱ δὲ τὸν τροχιζόμενον καὶ τὸν δυστυχίαις μεγάλαις περιπίπτοντα εὐδαίμονα φάσκοντες εἶναι, ἐὰν ᾖ ἀγαθός, ἢ ἑκόντες ἢ ἄκοντες οὐδὲν λέγουσιν. Yet Diogenes (in Diog. 89) allows that no one is perfectly free from faults.
3 Diogenes, in Diog. 51: Τοὺς ἀγαθοὺς ἄνδρας θεῶν εἰκόνας εἶναι. Ibid. 37, 72: τῶν θεῶν ἐστι πάντα: φίλοι δὲ οἱ σοφοὶ τοῖς θεοῖς: κοινὰ δὲ τὰ τῶν φίλων. πάντ᾽ ἄρα ἐστὶ τῶν σοφῶν. Diog. in Plut. Tran. An. 20: ἀνὴρ ὰγαθὸς οὐ πᾶσαν ἡμερὰυ ἑορτὴν ἡγεῖται; Exc. e Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 76: Ἀντισθένης ἐρωτηθεὶς ὑπό τινος τί διδάξει τὸν υἱὸν, εἷπεν· εἰ μὲν θεοῖς μάλλει συμβιοῦν, ϕιλόσοϕον, εἰ δὲ ἀνθρώποις, ῥήτορα.
Misery and stupidity are |314| the universal fate of mortals. 1 Accordingly all mankind are divided into two classes. Innumerable fools stand opposite to a small number of wise men. Only a very few are happy through prudence and virtue. All the rest live in misfortune and folly, only the fewest of all being aware of their deplorable state.
1 Diog. 33: Ἀναπήρους ἔλεγεν οὐ τοὺς κωφοὺς καὶ τυφλούς, ἀλλὰ τοὺς μὴ ἔχοντας πήραν. Ibid. 35: τοὺς πλείστους ἔλεγε παρὰ δάκτυλον μαίνεσθαι. Compare what has been said of Socrates p. 121, 2, Ibid. 46: rΤοὺς ῥήτορας καὶ πάντας τοὺς ἐνδοξολογοῦντας τρισανθρώπους. Ibid, 71: Instead of becoming happy by practice of virtue, παρὰ τὴν ἄνοιαν κακοδαιμονοῦσι. Ibid. 33: πρὸς τὸν εἰπόντα, Πύθια νικῶ ἄνδρας,
ἐγὼ μὲν οὖν,
εἶπεν, ἄνδρας, σὺ δ᾽ ἀνδράποδα.
Ibid. 27: men he had found nowhere, but boys he had found in Lacedaemon. Ibid. 41; the story of Diogenes with his lantern. Ibid. 86; verses of Crates on the stupidity of mankind. Compare also Stob. Floril. 4, 52. Diogenes in Exc. e Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 75, says that the vilest thing upon earth is a man without culture. Hither Diogenes or Philiscus asserts in Stob. Flor. 22, 41 (Conf. Diog. vi. 80): 6ὁ τῦϕος ὥςπερ ποιμὴ οὗ θέλει [τοὺς πολλοὺς] ἄγει. Compare p, 292, 2.
D. Practical Results of Cynic Teaching
Following out these principles, the Cynics conceived it to be their special mission to set an example themselves of strict morality, of abstemiousness, of the independence of the wise man, and also to exercise a beneficial and strengthening influence on others.
To this mission they devoted themselves with extraordinary self-denial, not, however, without falling into such extravagances and absurdities, such offensive coarseness, utter shamelessness, overbearing self-conceit, and empty boasting, that it is hard to say whether their strength of mind rather calls for admiration, or their eccentricities for ridicule; and |315| whether they rather command esteem, or dislike, or commiseration. Previous enquiries, however, make it possible for us to refer these various peculiarities to one common source.
(1) Self-renunciation. The leading thought of Cynicism is the self-sufficiency of virtue. 1 Blunt and onesided in their conception of this principle, the Cynics were not content with a mere inward independence of the enjoyments and wants of life. Their aim, they thought, could only be reached by entirely renouncing all enjoyment, by limiting their wants to what is absolutely indispensable, by deadening their feelings to outward impressions, and by cultivating indifference to all that is not in their own power. The Socratic independence of wants 2 became with them a renunciation of the world. 3 Poor to begin with, 4 or renouncing their property voluntarily, 5 they lived as beggars. 6
1 See p. 302.
2 According to Diog. vi. 105, conf. Lucian, Cyn. 12, Diogenes repeated the language which we saw Socrates used, p. 64, 3. To the same effect is the story that Diogenes, at the beginning of his Cynic career, refused to look for a runaway slave, because he could do without his slave as well as the slave could do without him. Diog. 55; Stob. Floril. 62, 47. Ibid. 97, 31, p. 215 Mein.
3 See pp. 303; 310, 1.
4 Such as Antisthenes, Diogenes, and Monimus.
5 Such as Crates and Hipparchia.
6 According to Diocles in Diog. vi. 18, Antisthenes already assumed the beggar’s guise, the staff and scrip; nor is the truth of his account impugned by Sosicrates, in saying that Diodorus of Aspendus was the first to do so; for this statement is not very accurate, both Antisthenes and Diogenes being older than Diodorus. Nevertheless, in Diog. 22, Diogenes is described with great probability as the originator of the full mendicant garb, and he is also said to have been the first to gain his living by begging. Diog. 38; 46; 49; Teles. in Stob. Flor. v. 67; Hieron. adv. Jovin. ii. 207. His followers Crates (see the verses in Diog. 85 and 90) and Monimus (Diog. 82) adopted the same course.
|316| Possessing no houses of their own, they passed the day in the streets, or in other public places; the nights they spent in porticoes, or wherever else chance might guide them. 1 Furniture they did not need. 2 A bed seemed superfluous. 3 The simple Greek dress was by them made still simpler, and they were content with the tribon 4 of Socrates, the ordinary dress of the lower orders, 5
1 Diogenes must have been the first to act thus. For Antisthenes in Xen. Symp. 4, 38, still speaks of having a house, although its furniture was confined to the bare walls. Diogenes, however, and the later Cynics lived as described. See Diog. 22; 38; 76; 105: Teles. l. c. and in Stob. Floril. 97, 31, p. 215 Mein. Meron. Lucian, V. Auct. 9. Diogenes for a time took up his abode in a tub which stood in the entrance-court of Metroon, at Athens, as had been done by homeless folk before. Diog. 23; 43; 105; Sen. Ep. 90, 14. But it cannot have been, as Juvenal, xiv. 208, and Lucian, Consc. His, 3, represent it, that he spent his whole life there without any other home, even carrying his tub about with him, as a snail does its shell. Compare Steinhart, l. c. p. 302. Göttling, Ges. Abh. 258, and Brucker’s report of the discussions between Hermann and Kasseus, Hist. Phil. i. 872. Equally fictitious is the romantic story that Crates and Hipparchia lived in a tub. Simpl. in Epict. Enchir. p. 270. All that Musonius in Stod. Floril. 67, 20, p. 4, Mein. says is that they spent day and night in the open porticoes. In southern countries they even now often spend the night in a portico.
2 The story that Diogenes threw away his cup, when he had seen a boy drinking with the hollow of his hand, is well known. Diog. 37; Plat. Prof. in Virt. 8, p. 79; Seneca, Ep. 90, 14; Hier. l. c. He is also reported to have trampled on Plato’s costly carpets with the words, “I trample upon Plato's vainglory,” to which Plato replied, “How much pride you expose to view, Diogenes, by seeming not to be proud.” Diog. 26.
3 Antisthenes in Xen. Symp. 4, 38, boasts that he slept admirably on the simplest bed. And the fragment in Demetr. de Elocut. 249 (Winckelmann, p. 52), belongs here. As far as Diogenes (pict. Dido. i. 24, 7, distinctly asserts this of Diogenes) and Crates are concerned, they slept, as a matter of course, on the bare ground.
4 Compare the passages quoted p. 54, 4.
5 That is at Athens; at Sparta the tribon was universal (Göttling, 256; Hermann, Antiquit. iii. § 21, 14), from which it will be seen, that the word did not originally mean something worn out, but a rough dress which rubbed the skin; in Stob. Floril. 5, 67, means a covering which had grown rough.
without any |317| underclothing. 1 In scantiness of diet they even surpassed the very limited requirements of their fellow countrymen. 2 It is said that Diogenes tried to do without fire, by eating his meat raw, 3 and he is credited with saying that everything, without exception, human flesh included, might be used for purposes of food. 4 Even in extreme age he refused to depart from his accustomed manner of living, 5 and lest his friends should expend any unnecessary care on his corpse, he forbad their burying it at all. 6
1 This was often done by the poor (Hermann, l. c.) Antisthenes, however, or Diogenes, according to others, made this dress the dress of his order, allowing the tribon to be doubled for better protection, against the cold. Diog.6; 13; 22; 76; 105. Teles in Stob. Floril. 97, 31, p. 215. Mein. The Cynic ladies adopted the same dress, Diog. 93. This single article of dress was often in the most miserable condition. See the anecdotes about Crates, Diog. 90, and the verses on him, ibid. 87. Because of the self-satisfaction with which Antisthenes exposed to view the holes in his cloak, Socrates is said to have observed that his vanity peered through them. Diog. 8.
2 Their ordinary food consisted of bread, figs, onions, garlic, linseed, but particularly of the θέρμοι, or beans of some kind. Their drink was cold water. Diog. 105; 25; 48; 85; 90; Teles in Stob. Floril. 97, 31; ibid. p. 215, M.; Athen. iv. 156, c; Lucian, V. Auct. 9; Dio Chrys. Or. vi. 12 and 21, and Göttling, p. 255. But, in order to prove their freedom, they occasionally allowed a pleasure to themselves and others. Diog. 55; Aristid. Or. xxv. 560 ( Winchelmann, p. 28).
3 Diog. 34; 76; Pseudo-Plut. de Esu Carn. i. 6, 995; Dio Chrys. Or. vi. 25.
4 In Diog. 73, this principle is supported by the argument, that everything is in everything else, even flesh in bread, etc. Diog. refers for this toa tragedy of Thyestes, the writer of which was not Diogenes, but Philiscus, A similar statement was subsequently made by the Stoics. See Zeller’s Stoics, etc.
5 See Diog. 34.
6 See the accounts which differ in details in Diag. 79; 52; Cic. Tusc. i. 438, 104; Teles in Sod. Floril. 97, 31, Aelian, V. H. viii. 14; Stob. Floril. 123, 11. The same is repeated by Chrysippus in Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 258; Math. xi. 194.
A life in harmony |318| with nature, 1 the suppression of everything artificial, the most simple satisfaction of all natural wants, is the watchword of his School. 2 They never weary of belauding the good fortune and the independence which they owe to this freedom from wants. 3 To attain thereto, bodily and mental hardships are made a principle. 4 A Diogenes whose teacher did not appear to treat him with sufficient severity, 5 is said to have undertaken self-mortification in this behalf. 6
1 Which Diogenes also required, witness for instance his saying in Diog. 71: dδέον οὖν ἀντὶ τῶν ἀχρήστων πόνων τοὺς κατὰ φύσιν ἑλομένους ζῆν εὐδαιμόνως, παρὰ τὴν ἄνοιαν κακοδαιμονοῦσι.
2 Compare on this subject the expressions of Diogenes in Diog. 44; 35; Stob. Floril. 5, 41; 67, the hymn of Crates on εὐτέλεια, and his prayer to the Muses in Julian, Or. vi. 199, in addition to what Plut. de Sanit. 7, p. 125, Diog. 85; 93, and Stobeus tell of him. Compare also Lucian, V. Auct. 9, and the anecdote of the mouse, the sight of which confirmed Diogenes in his renunciation of the world in Plt. Prof. in Virtut. 6; Diog. 22, 40.
3 Compare the language used by Crates and Metrocles in Mein. and the quotations p. 303, 2 and 3.
4 Compare p. 250, 1, and Diog. 30. Diogenes’ training appears to have been described by Eubulus in the same glowing terms as that of Cyrus was by Xenophon. Exc. e Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 68; 67. Diogenes in Stod. Floril. 7, 18, expresses the view that mental vigour is the only object of all exercise, even that of the body.
5 Dio Chrys. Or. viii. 2 (Stob. Floril. 13, 19); conf. Diog. 18.
6 According to Diog. 23; 34, he was in the habit of rolling in the summer in the burning sand, and in winter of walking barefoot in the snow, and embracing icy columns. On the other hand, Philemon’s words about Crates in Diog. 87, that he went about wrapped up in summer and in rags in winter, are probably only a comedian’s jest on his beggarly covering.
Even the scorn and contempt necessarily incurred by this manner of life were borne by the Cynics with the greatest |319| composure; 1 nay, they accustomed themselves thereto, 2 on the ground that the reproaches of enemies teach man to know himself, 3 and the best revenge you can take is to amend your faults. 4 Should life from any reason become insupportable, they reserved to themselves the right, as the Stoics did at a later time, 5 of securing their freedom by means of suicide.
(2) Renunciation of social life. Among external things of which it is necessary to be independent, the Cynics included several matters which other men are in the habit of regarding as morally good and as duties. To be free in every respect, the wise man must be fettered and hampered by no relations to others.
1 Antisthenes in Diog. 7, requires: κακῶς ἀκούοντας καρτερεῖν μᾶλλον ἢ εἰ λίθοις τις βάλλοιτο. He also says in Epict. Diss. iv. 6, 20 (conf. Diog. 3): βασιλικόν, ὦ ἔφη, Κῦρε, πράττειν μὲν εὖ καλῶς δ' ἀκούειν: It is said of Diogenes, Diog. 33, and also of Crates, Diog. 89, that when his body had been ill-treated, he only wrote by the side of his blains the names of those by whom they had been inflicted.
2 Diog. 90 says of Crates, τὰς πόρνας ἐπίτηδες ἐλοιδόρει, συγγυμνάζων ἑαυτὸν πρὸς τὰς βλασφημίας.
3 Antisthenes remarks, Diog. 12: προσέχειν τοῖς ἐχθροῖς: πρῶτοι γὰρ τῶν ἁμαρτημάτων αἰσθάνονται. He also says in Plut. Inim. Util. 6, p. 89, and the same saying is attributed to Diogenes in De Adul. 36 p. 74; Prof. in Virt. ii. p. 82.
4 Diog. in Plut. Inimic. Util. 4, p. 88 and Poet. 4, p. 21.
5 When Antisthenes in his last illness became impatient under his sufferings, Diogenes offered him a dagger (Diog. 18) to put an end to his life, which Antisthenes had not the courage to use. That Diogenes made away with himself is indeed asserted in several of the accounts to which reference has been made, but cannot be proved. In Aelian, V. H. x. 11, he refuses the contemptuous challenge to put an end to his sufferings by suicide; for the wise man ought to live. Nevertheless, Metrocles put an end to himself (Diog. 95), not to mention Menedemus (ibid. 100). So also Crates in Diog. 86; Clemens. Strom. ii. 412, D.
He must satisfy his social |320| wants by himself alone, 1 or he will be dependent on others, and nothing which is out of his power ought to influence his happiness.
(a) Of family life. To these matters belongs family life. Not that Antisthenes would do away with marriage, because he thought it useful to keep up the race of men; 2 but Diogenes early discovered that this object might be attained by a community of wives. 3 Deeply imbued as these philosophers were with Grecian peculiarities, it never occurred to them to require, in the spirit of a later asceticism, the entire uprooting of all sexual desires. Natural impulses might, however, be satisfied in a far more simple way. 4
1 In Diog. 6, Antisthenes in reply to the question, What good philosophy had done him, answers: τὸ δύνασθαι ἑαυτῷ ὁμιλεῖν. Out of this came the caricature of later Cynicism, described by Lucian, V. Auct. 10. Yet Diogenes and Crates were anything but haters of their fellow-men.
2 Diog. 11: γαμήσειν τε τεκνοποιίας χάριν, ταῖς εὐφυεστάταις συνιόντα γυναιξί. The conjecture ἀφυεστάταις (Winkelmann, p. 29, according to Hermann) appears mistaken: Antisthenes might well require εὐφυεστάται πρὸς τεκνοποιίαν, women most suited for child-bearing, whilst considering anyone good enough for a plaything.
3 Diog. 72: ἔλεγε δὲ καὶ κοινὰς εἶναι δεῖν τὰς γυναῖκας, γάμον μηδένα νομίζων, ἀλλὰ τὸν πείσαντα τῇ πεισθείσῃ συνεῖναι: κοινοὺς δὲ διὰ τοῦτο καὶ τοὺς υἱέας. The correctness of this is supported by the fact that Zeno and Chrysippus, according to Diog. vii. 33, 131, projected the same state of things for their ideal state.
4 Something of the same kind has been already observed in Socrates, p. 163, 1. With the Cynics this treatment of the relation between the sexes becomes an extravagance and a deformity. In Xen. Symp. 4, 38, Antisthenes boasts of his comforts, since he only associates with those fair dames to whom others would have nothing to say. That he did so on principle is stated in Diog. 3. That he declared adultery permissible, as Clemens. Floril. v. 18 says, is by no means certain. He is even said to have satisfied his lusts in a coarser way, complaining that hunger could not be treated in the same way. Brucker, i. 880, Steinhart, p. 305, and Göttling, p. 275, doubt the truth of these and similar stories. Without vouching for their accuracy, it may be enough to say that they are not only quoted by Diog. 46, 49; Dio Chrys. Or. vi. 16, p. 203, R.; Lucian, V. Auct. 10; Galen. Loc. Affect. vi. 5; viii. 419, K; Athen. iv. 158, f£; Dio Chrys. 34 Hom. in Math. p. 398, C; S. Aug. Civ. Dei, xiv. 20; but also, according to Plut. Stob. Rep. 21, 1, p. 1044, Chrysippus had on this score vindicated the Cynics, and according to Sext. Phyrrh. iii. 206, Zeno appears to have done the same. Dio. probably borrowed his revolting extracts. from Chrysippus. The things are, however, not so out of keeping with the ways of Antisthenes, that we could call them impossible; and the very thing which to us appears so unintelligible, this public want of modesty, makes them very likely to be true of Diogenes. If true, they were an attempt on his part to expose the folly of mankind. It is from this point of view rather than on any moral grounds that the Cynics conduct their attacks on adulterers and stupid spendthrifts. To them it seemed foolish in the extreme to incur much toil, danger, and expense for an enjoyment, which might be had much more easily. See Diog. 4; 51; 60; 66; 89; Plut. Ed. Pa. 1, Schl. p. 5; Stob. Floril. 6; 39; 52, Diogenes is also accused of having publicly practised unchastity, Diog. 69; Theod. Cur: Gr. Aff. xii. 48, p. 172. In Corinth the younger Lais, according to Athen. xiii. 588, b, or Phryne, according to Tortull. Apol, 46, is said to have had a whim to bestow on him her favours gratuitously, whereas the philosopher did not despise others. Clemens (Hom. V. 18) represents him as purchasing them by scandalous conditions. In his tragedies (according to Julian, Or. vii. 210, d) stood things that one might believe ὑπερβολὴν ἀρρητουργίας οὐδὲ ταῖς ἑταίραις ἀπολελεῖφθαι. On the other hand his morality is commended, Demetr. de Eloc. 261.
|321| Their mendicant life, moreover, not affording them an opportunity 1 for home pleasures, it is readily understood that they were in general averse to marriage, 2 and to feminine society, or at least treated family life as a thing indifferent. 3
1 The case of Crates is an exception, and even Crates had not wooed Hipparchia. He only married her, when she would not renounce her affection for him, but was prepared to share his mode of life. He certainly married his children in a peculiar way, according to Diog. 88; 93.
2 See the apophthegms in Diog. 3, and Lucian, V. Auct. 9: γάμου δὲ ἀμελήσεις καὶ παίδων καὶ πατρίδος. Far less objectionable is the maxim of Antisthenes in Diog, 12: τὸν δίκαιον περὶ πλείονος ποιεῖσθαι τοῦ συγγενοῦς.
3 See pp. 310, 1, and 277.
Diogenes is said |322| to have seen nothing revolting 1 in marriage between the nearest relations.
(b) Of civil life. Another matter which they considered to be equally indifferent with family life for the wise man, Indeed the sharp contrast between slavery and freedom does not affect the wise man. The man who is really free can never be a slave—for a slave is one who is afraid—and for the same reason a slave can never be free. The wise man is the natural ruler of others, although he may be called a slave, in the same way that the physician is the ruler of the sick. Accordingly it is said that Diogenes, when about to be sold, had the question asked: Who wants a master? declining the offer of his friends to buy him back. 2 Not that such conduct was a vindication of slavery. On the contrary, the Cynics seem to have been the first among Greeks to declare it an institution opposed to nature, 3
1 Dio Chrys. Or. x. 29, whose statement is confirmed by its agreeing with the universal doctrine of the Stoics. See Zeller’s Stoics, etc., p. 4.
2 Diog. 29; 74. Compare pp. 286, 4; 332, 4. According to Diog. 16, Antisthenes wrote περὶ ἐλευθερίας καὶ δουλείας, and perhaps this is the origin of the account in Stob. Flor. 8, 14.
3 For this we have certainly no direct authority. Still (as has been already observed, p. 171, 4), it is probably in reference to the Cynics that Arist. Polit. i. 3; 1253, b, 20, τοῖς μὲν γὰρ δοκεῖ ἐπιστήμη τέ τις εἶναι ἡ δεσποτεία...τοῖς δὲ παρὰ φύσιν τὸ δεσπόζειν· νόμῳ γὰρ τὸν μὲν δοῦλον εἶναι τὸν δ᾽ ἐλεύθερον...διόπερ οὐδὲ δίκαιον: βίαιον γάρ. The contrast between νόμῳ and φύσει is not found so strongly drawn at that time except among the Sophists and Cynics. Nor is it only met with in their religious views. On the contrary, their whole politics, and even their practical philosophy, are governed by the effort to bring human society from an artificial state recognised by law and custom to a pure state of nature. We should hardly look in sophistic circles for the opponents of slavery whom Aristotle mentions, where the rule of the stronger over the weaker was regarded as the most conformable to nature. But the view is all the more in keeping with a school which from no side could allow that one portion of mankind enjoy the right, quite independently of their moral state, to govern the rest, the claim of the wise man to govern the fool resting upon reason, and naturally all men being citizens of one state; between fellow-citizens the relation of master and slave cannot exist.
quite in |323| conformity with their principle, that every difference between men other than that of virtue and vice is unimportant and has nothing to do with the law of nature and reason. Yet they did not go so far as to attempt even in a small circle (as the Essenes did at a later time) the abolition of slavery, regarding the outward state as something indifferent, the wise man even in slavery being a free man. Nor was it otherwise with civil life. The wise man of the Cynics feels himself above the restraints which civil life imposes, without therefore feeling any impulse to mix himself up in such matters; for where could be a constitution which would satisfy his requirements? A popular government is severely censured by Antisthenes. 1
1 Arist. Pol. iii. 13; 1284, a, 15, tells the fable—the application of which to a democracy is obvious—of the hares suggesting universal equality to the lions. The blame which he attaches to those states, which do not distinguish the good from the bad (Diog. 5; 6), must be intended for a hit at democracy. The saying in Diog. 8, that should the Athenians call their asses horses, it would be quite as good as choosing incompetent generals—must also be directed against a popular form of government. According to Athen. v. 220, d, Antisthenes had made a sharp attack on all the popular leaders at Athens. Likewise in Diog. 24; 41, Diogenes calls them ὂχλου διακόνους, and he amuses himself at the expense of Demosthenes. Ibid. 34, on which see Epict. Diss. iii. 2, 11. See also what was said of Socrates, p. 166.
An absolute monarch only appeared to these freedom-loving philosophers a bad and miserable |324| man. 1 Aristocratical institutions fell far below their ideal, none being adapted for the rule of wise men: for what law or custom can fetter him, whose life is regulated by the laws of virtue? 2 What country can be large enough for those who regard themselves as citizens of the world? 3 Allowing therefore a conditional necessity for a state and laws, 4 the Cynics 5 refused in their homelessness to take any part in civil life. They wished to be citizens of the world, not of any one state; their ideal state, as far as they do sketch it, is a destruction of all civil life. 6
1 Compare Xen. Symp. 4, 36; Dio Chrys. Or. vi. 47; Stob. Floril. 49, 47; 97, 26; Diog. 50. Also Plut. Adul. et Am. c. 27, p. 68.
2 Antisthenes, in Diog. 11, says: τὸν σοφὸν οὐ κατὰ τοὺς κειμένους νόμους πολιτεύσεσθαι, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὸν τῆς ἀρετῆς. Diogenes, ibid. ἔφασκε δ᾽ ἀντιτιθέναι τύχῃ μὲν θάρσος, νόμῳ δὲ φύσιν, πάθει δὲ λόγον. This antithesis of νόμους and φύσις seems to be what Plato has in view, Phil. 44, C. See p. 294, 4.
3
Diog. 63 says of Diogenes: ἐρωτηθεὶς πόθεν εἴη, “κοσμοπολίτης.” See p. 167, 8. ibid. 72: μόνην τε ὀρθὴν πολιτείαν εἶναι τὴν ἐν κόσμῳ. Antisthenes, ibid. 12: τῷ σοφῷ ξένον οὐδὲν οὐδ᾽ ἄπορον. Crates, ibid. 98: οὐχ εἷς πάτρας μοι πύργος, οὐ μία στέγη, πάσης δὲ χέρσου καὶ πόλισμα καὶ δόμος. The same individual in Plut. de Adul. 28, p. 69, shows that banishment is no evil, and according to Diog. 93 (conf. Aelian V. H. iii. 6) he is said to have given a negative answer to Alexander’s question, whether he did not wish to see Thebes rebuilt: ἔχειν δὲ πατρίδα ἀδοξίαν καὶ πενίαν ἀνάλωτα τῇ τύχῃ καὶ Διογένους εἶναι πολίτης ἀνεπιβουλεύτου φθόνῳ. See also Epict. Diss. iii. 24, 66. Lucian, V. Auct. 8. Also the Stoic doctrine in Zeller’s Stoics, etc., chap. on Stoics, and what has been said above, p. 278, 1.
4 The confused remarks of Diogenes in Diog. 72 support this statement.
5 Antisthenes was not without a citizen’s rights (see Hermann, Antiquit. 1, § 118), although a proletarian by birth and circumstances. Diogenes was banished from Sinope, and lived at Athens as a foreigner. Crates had chosen this life; after his native town had been destroyed. Monimus was a slave whom his master had driven away.
6 Stob. Floril. 45, 28: Ἀντισθένης ἐρωτηθεὶς τῶς ἂν τις προσέλθοι πολιτεία, εἶπε κατάπερ πυρὶ, μήτε λίαν ἐγγὺς ἳνα μὴ καῇς, μήτε πόῤῥω ἳνα μὴ ῥιγώσῃς.
|325| All mankind are to live together like a flock. No nation may have its own special laws and boundaries severing it from others. Confining themselves to the barest necessaries of life, needing no gold, that. source of so much mischief, abstaining from marriage and family life, they wished to return to the simplicity of a state of nature; 1 the leading thought of their enlarged political sympathies being not so much the oneness and the union of all mankind, but the freedom of the individual from the bonds of social life and the limits of nationality.
1 The above description rests only in part on direct testimony, but the combination which is the basis of it does not lack great probability. We know on authority that Diogenes in his πολιτεία (Diog. 80) demanded a community of wives and children, and that in the same treatise he proposed a coinage of bones or stones (ἀστραγάλοι) instead of gold and silver, Athen. iv. 159, e. We know further that Zeno’s πολιτεία ran to this effect in Plut. Alex. Vit. i. 6, p. 329; and since this treatise of Zeno was always considered to express the opinions of the Cynic School, we have every reason to look in it for a Cynic’s views. That such views were on the whole advocated by Antisthenes, probably in the treatise Περὶ νόμου ἢ περὶ πολιτείας, which appears to be identical with the woArrewds SiuddAoyos mentioned by Athen. v. 220, d, is in itself probable, and is confirmed by Plato’s Politicus. Rejecting, as his dialogue does, the analogy between statesmanship and the superintendence of a flock, we might naturally think that Plato wasprovoked to it by some such theory; and since we know from Plutarch’s account of Zeno, that the Cynics reduced the idea of the state to that of a herd of men, it is most natural to think of them. Moreover, the description of the natural state, Rep. ii. 372, appears also to refer to Antisthenes. Plato at first describes it as though from himself, but he afterwards clearly intimates that it belongs to another, when he calls it a state fit for pigs. Nor do we know of anyone else to whom it could be better referred than to the founder of the Stoic School.
Here again |326| may be seen the negative spirit of their morality, destitute of all creative power.
(c) Suppression of modesty. The same character may be recognised in a feature for us the most revolting in Cynicism—their deliberate suppression of the natural feeling of shame. This feeling they did not consider altogether un- reasonable, 1 but they urged that you need only be ashamed of what is bad, and that what is in itself good may not only be unblushingly discussed, but done without reserve before the eyes of all. 2 They therefore permitted themselves what they considered natural, without regard to places, not shrinking even from doing in the public streets 3
1 It is expressly told of Diogenes, Diog. 37; 54, that he expostulated with a woman who lay in an indecent position in a temple, and that he called blushes the colour of virtue.
2 See the following note, and Cic. Off. i. 35, 128: Nec vero audiendi sunt Cynici aut si qui fuerunt Stoici pene Cynici, qui reprehendunt et irrident, quod ea, quz turpia non sint (for instance, the begetting of children) nominibus ac verbis flagitiosa dicamus (that we consider it unseemly to name them), illa autem qu turpia sunt (stealing, etc.) nominibus appellemus suis.
3 This is especially said of Diogenes, Diog. 22: παντὶ τόπῳ ἐχρῆτο εἰς πάντα, ἀριστῶν τε καὶ καθεύδων καὶ διαλεγόμενος, and according to Diog. 69, he supported this by the argument, If it is at all allowable to breakfast, it must be allowable to breakfast in public. Following out this principle, he not only took his meals in public in the streets (Diog. 48; 58), but he also did many other eccentric and startling things, in the sight of all passers by (Diog. 35; 36). It is even asserted of him, Diog. 69: εἰώθει δὲ πάντα ποιεῖν ἐν τῷ μέσῳ, καὶ τὰ Δήμητρος καὶ τὰ Ἀφροδίτης. Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 48, p. 172, says the same of him, mentioning an instance. We have already, p. 320, 4, observed that these statements can hardly be altogether fictitious. But it is incredible that Crates and Hipparchia, as is said to have been the case, consummated their nuptials in the midst of numerous spectators. There are, however, not a few authorities for it: Diog. 97; Sext. Pyrrh. i. 153; iii. 200; Clemens; Stromat. iv. 523, A; Apul. Floril. 14; Lact. Inst. iii. 15, who mentions it as the common practice of the Cynics; S. Aug. Civ. Dei, xiv. 20, who does not altogether credit it, but does not improve it by his interpretation. Yet all these are later authorities. The whole story may rest upon some such story as that this married couple once passed a night in the στοὰ ποικίλη, or else upon the theoretical assertion of some Cynic philosophers, that a public consummation of nuptials was permissible. On the other hand, we have no reason to doubt what Diog. 97 states, that Hipparchia went about in public dressed as a man.
what other men |327| prefer to do in secret. Lest he should in any way forego his independence, the Cynic puts out of sight all regard for others, and what he is not ashamed of by himself, he thinks he need not be ashamed of before others. The opinion of men is to him indifferent. He is neither hurt by their familiarity with his personal life, nor need he fear such familiarity.
(d) Renunciation of religion. To the same source may be referred the Cynic attitude towards religion. No course of study under Antisthenes was needed to make men doubt the truth of the popular faith. Such doubts were raised on all sides, and since the appearance of the Sophists, had permeated the educated classes. Not even the Socratic circle had passed unscathed. 1 From his inter- course with Gorgias and the other Sophists, Antisthenes in particular must have been familiar with freer views respecting the Gods and their worship, and specially with the principles of the Eleatics, whose teaching in other respects he also worked into his own. For him, however, these views had a peculiar meaning.
1 As we gather from the dialogues of Socrates with Aristodemus and Euthydemus, Xen. Mem. i.4; iv. 3; not to mention Critias.
Hence, too, may be explained the |328| sharp and hostile attitude of the Cynics to the popular faith, in which they so distinctly deviated from the example of Socrates. The wise man, independent of everything external, cannot possibly be dependent on a traditional faith. He cannot feel pledged to follow popular opinions, or to connect his well-being with customs and devotional practices, which have nothing to do with his moral state. 1 Thus in religious matters the Cynics are decidedly on the side of free thought. The existence of a God they do not deny, nor can their wise man do without one; but they object to a number of gods resembling men—popular gods, owing, as they say, 2 their existence to tradition: in reality there is but one God, who resembles nothing visible, and cannot be represented by any symbol. 3
1 In this way we must explain the free thought of Aristodemus, Mem. i. 4, 2, 9-11; 14; who is also described by Plato, Symp. 173, B., as a kindred spirit to Antisthenes.
2 Cic. N. D. 1. 18, 32: ‘Antisthenes in eo libro, qui physicus inscribitur, populares [νὸμῳ] Deos multos, naturalem [ϕύσει] unum esse dicens,’ which is repeated by Minuc. Fel. Oct. 19, 8, and Lact. Inst. i. 5, epit. 4. Clemens, Protrept. 46, C., and also Stromat. v. 601, A., says: Ἀντισθένης...θεὸν οὐδενὶ ἐοικέναι ϕησίν · διόπερ αὐτὸν οὐδεὶς ἐκμαθεῖν ἐξ εἰκόνος δύναται. Theod. Cur. Gr. Affect. i, 75, p. 14; Tertull. Ad Nat. ii. 2: In reply to the question, Quid in colis agatur? Diogenes replied: Nunquam ascendi; to the question, Whether there were any Gods? he answered: Nescio nisi ut sint expedire. No very great dependence can, it is true, be placed in Tertullian’s sayings. Id. Apol. 14; Ad. Nat. i. 10: Diogenes nescis quid in Herculem ludit, without, however, giving further particulars. Compare what was said of Socrates, p. 175.
3 The Cynics are therefore Atheists in the ancient sense of the term, i.e. they denied the Gods of the state, although from their point of view they were certainly right in rejecting the charge of atheism. Nothing follows from the anecdotes in Diog. 37; 42.
The same reasoning holds good of |329| the worship of the gods. There is but one way of pleasing God—by virtue; everything else is superstition. Wisdom and uprightness make us followers and friends of the gods. What is generally done to secure their favour is worthless and unmeaning. The wise man honours God by virtue and not by sacrifice, 1 which God does not require 2 He knows that a temple is not more holy than any other place. 3 He does not pray for things which are considered goods by the unwise; not for riches, but for righteousness. 4
Herewith the ordinary notion respecting prayer is also surrendered; for everyone owes virtue to his own exertions. Hence Diogenes may be understood ridiculing prayers and vows. 5 The same sweeping judgment is pronounced on oracles, prophecy, and prophets. 6 The mystic rites also were assailed with biting scorn, 7
1 Julian, Or. vi. 199, B, excusing Diogenes because of his poverty, says that he never entered a temple or offered sacrifice. Crates, ibid. 200, A, promises to honour Hermes and the Muses oοὐ δαπάναις τρυϕεραῖς, ἀλλ' ἀρεταῖς ὁσίαις.
2 See p. 315, 2.
3 See Diog. 73: Μηδέν τε ἄτοπον εἶναι ἐξ ἱεροῦ τι λαβεῖν.
4 See the prayer of Crates in Julian l. c. and Diog. 42.
5 Compare the anecdotes in Diog. 37; 59.
6 In Diog. 24 he says that, looking at pilots, physicians, and philosophers, he thinks man the most intelligent being, but looking at interpreters of dreams, or prophets, or credulous believers in them, he considers him the most foolish of creatures. Similar statements in Diog. 43; 48; Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. vi. 20, p. 88; and Dio. Or. x. 2; 17. Antisthenes appears also in Xen. Sym. 8, 5, to have doubts upon the subject of the δαιμόνιον of Socrates, but no conclusion can be formed from a passage so jocular.
7 Diog. 4; 39; 42; Plut. Aud. Poet. 5, p. 21; Clemens, Protrept. 49, C.
both by Diogenes and Antisthenes; these philosophers, as far as religious views are |330| concerned, holding a perfectly independent attitude towards the popular faith. Not but that they gladly took hold of points which mythology supplied for their own arguments, taking all the more occasion to do so,in proportion to the earnestness of their desire to influence the masses: Antisthenes being aided in so doing by the sophistical training which be had previously enjoyed. 1 The various traditions must all be explained in harmony with this view. Hence we find Antisthenes in no small degree engaged in allegorical interpretations of the myths and the poets, and in an explanation of Homer, which he committed to writing in numerous volumes. 2 Looking for a hidden meaning 3 in legendary stories, he was everywhere able to discover moral teaching, and to build on moral reflections. 4 Indeed, by laying down the further axiom, that the poet does not always express his own sentiments, 5
1 For the allegorical interpretations of that period consult Krische, Forsch. 234; Xen. Sym. 3, 6; Plato, Theaetet. 153, C; Rep. ii. 378, D; Io, 530, C.; Phaedrus, 229, C; and Zeller’s Phil. d. Griech. i. 930, 3; also pp. 755, 831; Stoics, etc.
2 Diog. 17, mentions twelve or thirteen volumes of his on Homer and various portions of the Homeric poems, and one on Amphiaraus. Here, too, belong the treatises on Hercules. Julian, Or. vii. 209, A; 215, C; 217, A, also testifies to the fact of his frequently using myths. See Krische, 243.
3 The ὑπόνοια or διάνοια, Xen. Symp. 3, 6; Plato, Rep. ii. 378, D.; Io, 530, C.
4 Thus on Od. i. 1, he enquired in what sense πολοτροπία was meant for praise. On Od. v. 211; vii. 257, he remarked, that no reliance could be placed upon lovers’ promises. In Il. xv. 123, he found his doctrine of the oneness of virtue. See the passages in Winkelmann, p. 23-28.
5 Dio Chrys. Or. liii. 5, says that whereas the same had been previously said of Zeno, “Antisthenes anticipated Zeno in this theory, namely, that some things have been spoken by the poet in accord with fancy and some in accord with reality; however, Antisthenes did not elaborate the theory, whereas Zeno made it plain in each of its details.”
|331| he had no difficulty in finding anything anywhere. Traces of this allegorical interpretation may also be found in Diogenes. 1 Yet the Cynics do not seem to have carried this process nearly so far as the Stoics; 2 which is also quite natural, Cynic teaching being very imperfectly expanded, 3 and the taste for learned activity being with them very small.
E. Cynic Influence on the World
From the above it will be seen in what sense the Cynics spoke of the self-sufficingness of virtue. The wise man must be absolutely and in every respect independent; independent of wants, of desires, of prejudices and of after-thoughts. The devotion and strength of will with which they compassed this end, has certainly something grand about it. Disregarding, however, the limits of individual existence, and putting out of sight the conditions of a natural and a moral life, the Cynic grandeur borders on pride, and their strength of principle on self-will. A value out of all proportion is attached to the form of life, to such an extent that they again become dependent on external circumstances. The sublime becomes ridiculous, and every humour at last claims to be honoured as being higher wisdom. (Plato, or whoever it was who called Diogenes a Socrates gone mad, was not far wrong in what he said. 4
1 According to Stobd. Floril. 29, 92, he explained the legend of Medea boiling up the old into young to mean that, by bodily exercise, she made effeminate men young again.
2 Dio says this expressly, and little has come down to us of Cynic interpretations.
3 Even their Ethics are scanty enough, and their system gave no opportunity for those lengthy, physical discussions, on which the Stoics were so great.
4 Aelian, V. H. xiv. 33; Diog. Vi, 54.
|332| Notwithstanding these pretensions, the independence of these philosophers was not so great that they could dispense with every relation to others. It was only natural that they should wish to see all virtuous persons united as friends; 1 and, besides, they considered it the wise man’s business to raise tne rest of mankind to his own level. Anxious not to monopolise the blessings of virtue, but to share them with others, they sought for work as educators of their people, desiring, if possible, to bring a lax and effeminate nation back to the days of moral strictness and simplicity. The mass of men are fools, slaves’ of pleasure, suffering from self-conceit and pride. 2 The Cynic is a physician to heal their disease, 3 a guide to lead them to what is good. 4
1 Diog.11: καὶ ἐρασθήσεσθαι δέ: μόνον γὰρ εἰδέναι τὸν σοφὸν τίνων χρὴ ἐρᾶν. 12: ἀξιέραστος ὁ ἀγαθός: οἱ σπουδαῖοι φίλοι. Antisthenes wrote both an Ἐρωτικὸς and an Ἐρώμενος (Diog. 14; 18), and he had mentioned love in his Hercules (Procl. in Alc. 98, 6; Winckelmann, p. 16). An Ἐρωτικὸς of Diogenes is also mentioned, Diog. 80.
2 See p. 314.
3 When Diogenes was purchased by Xeniades, he is said to have told Xeniades that he would have to obey his slave, just as in another case he would have to obey a pilot or physician. Diog. 30; 36; conf. 74; Plut. An. Vitios. c. 3, p. 499; Stob. Flor. 3, 63; Philo, Qu. Omn. Pr. Lib. 833, E.
4 Diog. 4: Ἀντισθένης ἐρωτηθεὶς διὰ τί πικρῶς τοῖς μαθηταῖς ἐπιπλήττει, καὶ οἱ ἰατροί, φησί, τοῖς κάμνουσιν. Ibid. 6: καὶ οἱ ἰατροί, φησί, μετὰ τῶν νοσούντων εἰσίν, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ πυρέττουσιν. In Stob. Floril. 13, 25, Diogenes, when asked why he remained in Athens, whilst he was always praising the Spartans, replied: οὐδὲ γὰρ ἰατρὸς ὑγιείας ὢν ποιητικὸς ἐν τοῖς ὑγιαίνουσι τὴν διατριβὴν ποιεῖται. Accordingly, Diogenes calls himself in Lucian, V. Auct. 8, ἐλευθερωτής εἰμι τῶν ἀνθρώπων καὶ ἰατρὸς τῶν παθῶν, and he expresses astonishment in Dio. Or. viii. 7, that men less frequently apply to him, the healer of souls, than they do to an oculist or dentist.
Hence he considers it his mission to care for the outcast |335| and despised, only the sick needing a physician, 1 and no more fears contamination from such intercourse than the sun fears impurity from shining in the dirtiest haunts. 2
The improvement of mankind, however, is no easy task. 3 He who will be saved must hear the truth; nothing being more destructive than flattery. 4 Yet truth is always unpleasant; 5 none save either an incensed enemy or a real friend dare tell it. 6 This friendly service, the Cynics propose to render to mankind. 7 If in so doing they give offence, matters not to them; 8 a good kind of man being always disagreeable to bear with; 9 he who annoys no one is of no good to any one. 10 It was moreover a principle of theirs to pitch their demands both in word and example above what they really wanted, because men only imperfectly conform to them. 11 Thus they pressed themselves on friends and strangers alike with their exhortations, 12
1 According to Epict. iii. 24, 66, Diogenes read a lesson to the pirates who captured him. It cannot, however, have done much good, for they sold him notwithstanding; and the story is altogether very uncertain.
2 Diog. 63, and above, p. 332, 3.
3 Diog. 4, and p. 332, 3.
4 Diog. 4; 51; 92; Stob. Floril. 14, 16; Antisthenes in Plut. Vit. Pud. c. 18, g, E, p. 536.
5 Diogenes in Exc. e Flori. Joan. Damasc. ii. 31, 22: It is like light to those who have weak eyes.
6 See p. 319, 3.
7 Diogenes in Stob. Flor. 13, 26.
8 See p. 318.
9 οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι κύνες τοὺς ἐχθροὺς δάκνουσιν, ἐγὼ υοὺς ϕίλους, ἵνα σώσω.—Antisth. in Philo. Qu. Omn. Pr. Lib. 869, C.
10 In Plut. Virt. Mort. c. 12, g, E., p. 452, Diogenes says of Plato: δυσβάστακτον εἶναι τὸν ἀστεῖον.
11 See p. 308, 1.
12 Compare what Diog. vi. 10, says of Antisthenes, and vi. 26; 46; 65 of Diogenes; also Lucian V. Auct.10. Beeause of his importunity, Crates received the name of θυρεπανοίκτνς.—Diog. 86; Plut. Qu. Conv. ii. 1, 7, 4, p. 632; Apul. Floril. iv. 22.
which Diogenes, in particular, |334| instilled in the coarsest manner, 1 although more gentle traits are not altogether wanting. 2 At the same time the coarseness of their manner was somewhat relieved by their humour in which Diogenes and Crates more particularly excelled, They loved to clothe serious teaching in the form of a joke, or of poetry, 3 and to hurl sharp-pointed words 4 at the folly of mankind; 5 Diogenes even, like the oriental prophets, giving greater force to his utterances by symbolical actions, and thus attracting for them attention. 6
No doubt the position occupied by the Cynics in the Greek world is a peculiar one. Ridiculed because of their eccentricities, 7
1 Diog. 24; 32; 46; Ex.e Floril. Jo. Damasc. i. 7, 43.
2 Plut. De Adul. 28, p. 69, relates that when Demetrius Phalerius, after his banishment, fell in with Crates, he was not a little surprised at being received with friendly words of warm comfort instead of the violent language he expected. The attractiveness of the conversation of Antisthenes and Diogenes is also commended, Diog. 14. Conf. Xen. Symp. 4, 61.
3 See Diog. 27; 83; 85; Demetr. de Elocut. 170; 259; 261; Plut. Tranqu. An. 4, p. 466; Julian, Or. Vii. 209, a; Antisth.: ἔνια διὰ τῶν μύθων ἀπήγγελλε. Similarly, ibid. 215, c; 217, a.
4 Hermog. Progym. c. 3;Theo. Progym. c.5; Nicol. Progym. c 3.
5 Abundant examples of these ways of the Cynics are to be found in the ἀποϕθέυματα of Diegenes, in his sixth book, and in Stobeus’ Floril. See also Winckelmann, Antisth. Frag.; Plut. Prof. in Virt. c. 11, p. 82; Virt. Doc. c. 2, p. 439; Coh. Ira, c. 12, p. 460; Curios. c. 12, p. 621; Cup. Div. c. 7, p. 526; Exil.c. 7, p. 602; An. Seni. s. Ger. Rep. i. 5, p. 783; conf. Prec. c. 26, 141; De Alex. Virt. c. 3, p. 336; pict. Diss. iii, 2, 11; Geld, xviii. 13, 7; Tertullian, Apol. 39; not to mention others.
6 See Diog. 26; 31; 39; 64; 41 (the lantern); Stob. Flor. 4, 84. This eccentricity becomes a caricature in Menedemus, Diog. 102.
7 Diog. 83, 87, 93.
and admired for their |335| self-denial, despised as beggars, and feared as moralists, full of contempt for the follies, of pity for the moral miseries of their fellow men, they met both the wisdom and the effeminacy of their time with the rude vigour of a resolute will, hardened even to insensibility. Possessing the pungent, ever ready native wit of the plebeian, benevolent, with few wants, full of whims and jokes, and national even to their very dirtiness, they resemble in many points the friars of the Middle Ages; 1 nor can it be doubted that, notwithstanding all their extravagances, their action was in many ways beneficial. For all that, philosophy could expect but little from this mendicant philosophy. Not until it had been supplemented by other elements, regulated and received into connection with a wider view of the world in the Stoa, was Cynicism able to bear fruit on a large scale. The Cynic School, as such, appears to have had only a very narrow extension, a fact which will not appear strange, considering the terrible severity of its demands. Besides it was incapable of philosophic expansion, and even its practical action was chiefly of a negative character. It attacked the vices and the follies of men. It required independence and self-denial, but it separated man from man.
1 The Cynics really have a historical connection with the monks of Christendom. The link between the two is the Cynicism of the time of the Cesars, and the late Pythagorean asceticism, which exercised, partly directly and partly through the Essenes, so important an influence on eastern monasticism.
It placed the individual entirely by himself, thus offering play to moral pride, |336| vanity, and the most capricious whims, which were not left unindulged. The abstract sovereignty of the personal will resulted ultimately in individual caprice, and thus Cynicism trenched on the ground of the philosophy of pleasure, to which as a system it was diametrically opposed.
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|337| Chapter XIV. The Cyrenaics
A. History of the Cyrenaics
Respecting the Cyrenaic 1 branch of the Socratic school, the information we possess is quite as imperfect, or even more so, than that which we have touching the Cynics. Aristippus 2 of Cyrene, 3 the founder, had been brought to Athens 4 by a call from Socrates, whose extraordinary personal influence had unusual attractions for him, 5
1 See Wendt, De Philosophia Cyrenaica, Gött. 1841.
2 The accounts of ancient and the views of modern writers on the life of Aristippus are found in detail in H. v. Stein’s De Philosophia Cyrenaica, Part. prior. de vita Aristippi (Gott. 1855), which ought to have proceeded somewhat more sceptically. There too are references to the earlier literature.
3 All authorities without exception state this. His father is called Aritadas by Suid. Ἀρίστιππος.
4 Aschin. in Diog. ii. 65, says that he came to Athens κατὰ κλέος Σωκράτους, and Plut. Curios. 2, p. 516, gives full particulars how at the Olympic games he heard of Socrates and his teaching from Ischomachus, and was at once so taken by it that he did not rest till he had made his acquaintance. See Diog. ii. 78; 80.
5 Aristippus is not only universally described as a follower of Socrates (Diog. ii. 47; 74; 80; Strabo, xvii. 8, 22, p. 837; Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 18, 31; Stein., p. 26), but he also regarded himself as such, and paid a tribute of most genuine respect to his teacher. According to Diog. ii. 76, he prayed that he might die like Socrates. Ibid. 71, he says that if anything good can be truly repeated of himself, he owes it to Socrates, and Arist. Rhet. ii. 23; 1398, b, 29, says, Ἀρίστιππος πρὸς Πλάτωνα ἐπαγγελτικώτερόν τι εἰπόντα, ὡς ᾤετο: ἀλλὰ μὴν ὅ γ᾽ ἑταῖρος ἡμῶν, ἔφη, οὐθὲν τοιοῦτον, λέγων τὸν Σωκράτην (which Steinhart, Plat. Leben, 303, 17, contrary to the natural sense, refers to Plato’s too sanguine expectations of the younger Dionysius). We also see from Xen. Mem. i. 2, iii. 8, that he was on an intimate footing with Socrates; and Plato in blaming him, Phaedo, 59, C, for being absent from the circle of friends who met on the day of Socrates’ death: evidently reckons him as belonging to this circle. Conf. Stein., p. 25, who also, pp. 50 and 74, groups together the authorities respecting Aristippus’ relations to the pupils of Socrates.
although his |338| character was too weak to endure in the last trial.v 1 From Cyrene, his luxurious home, which at that time was at the height of its wealth and power, 2 he had brought habits far removed from the simplicity and abstemiousness of Socrates. 3 Perhaps he had been already touched by those Sophistical influences which may be observed in his subsequent career. 4
1 Plato, l. c., who however only says that Aristippus and Cleombrotus had been in Aigina; that on this fertile island they caroused on the day of their master’s death, as Demetr. de Elocut. 288, asserts, is barely possible. The accuracy of Plato’s statement is indisputable, notwithstanding Diog. iii. 56; ii. 65; Dut whether Aristippus left Athens from excessive regard for his own safety, or whether his weakness led him to wish to escape the painful interval pending the death of Socrates, cannot be ascertained.
2 See Thrige, Res Cyrenensium, 191.
3 This may be gathered from Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 1, in addition to the proof afforded by his later conduct. That Aristippus belonged to a wealthy family would seem to be established by his whole mode of living, and by the journey which he undertook to Athens.
4 We might have imagined that a city so rich and cultivated as Cyrene (on this point see Thrige, l. c., p. 340, 354), would not have been neglected by the Sophists, even if there were no express evidence to prove it. It is, however, known from Plato, Theaetet. 161, B; 162, A, that the celebrated mathematician, Theodorus of Cyrene, was a friend of Protagoras, and the principles of Protogoras are also afterwards met with in Aristippus. From the zeal with which Aristippus followed Socrates it may be further conjectured that the study of philosophy was to him no new thing.
At any rate we may assume that he had attained to a certain |339| maturity of thought when he first became acquainted with Socrates. 1 It is, therefore, no cause for wonder that this talented young man 2 met his teacher with a considerable amount of independence, 3 not on the whole so blindly following him as to sacrifice his own peculiarities. He is even said to have come forward as a teacher before the death of Socrates; 4 that he did so afterwards is a better established fact, and also that, contrary to the principles of his greatest friend, but quite in harmony with the practice usual among the Sophists, he required payment for his instruction. 5
1 The chronology of his life is very uncertain. Neither the time of his birth nor of his death is known to us. According to Diodorus, xv. 76, he was living in 366 BC, and Plut. Dio. 19, tells us that he met Plato on his third visit to Sicily, which is placed in 361 BC. But Diodorus probably derived from Dionysius his anecdote about the interview with Plato. Its accuracy cannot therefore be relied upon; and as we are ignorant how old Aristippus was at the time, these accounts are anything but satisfactory. According to Diog. ii. 83, however, it would appear, he was older by several years than Aschines; and it would also appear, from what has been said p. 337, 4, that at the time he followed Socrates he was independent in his civil relations, and further that he was connected with him for several years.
2 This is what he appears to have been from all that is known. See Stein., p. 29.
3 See Xen. Mem. ii. 1; iii. 8.
4 According to Diog. ii. 80, Socrates blamed him for taking pay for his instruction. How little dependence can be placed upon this story will be seen from the fact that Aristippus says, in his reply, that Socrates did the same, only taking less, Another passage, Diog. ii. 65, seems to imply, on the authority of Phanias, that Aristippus offered to give Socrates some of the money he had gained in this way. Perhaps, however, all that Phanias said was, that Aristippus had taken pay, and offered it to his teacher, without however bringing the two facts into closer temporal connection.
5 Phanias in Diog. li. 65; Ibid. 72; 74; 80, where it is also stated in what way he defended this conduct. Alexis in Athen. xii. 544, e; Plut. Edu. Pu. 7, p. 4; Stob. Exc. e Floril., Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 145 (that Aristippus is meant here appears from 146; conf. Diog. ii. 68). Also Xen. Mem. i. 2, 60, appears to have an eye on him. The amount of these fees is estimated at 1000 drachmae by Plutarch, at 500 by Diog. 72.
In yet another point he followed the |340| example of the Sophists, by passing a great portion of his life in various places without any fixed abode. 1
1 He says of himself in Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 13: οὐδ᾽ εἰς πολιτείαν ἐμαυτὸν κατακλείω, ἀλλὰ ξένος πανταχοῦ εἰμι. In Plut. Virt. Doc. p. 2, p. 439, some one asks him: πανταχοῦ σῦ ἆρα εἶ; to which he replies with a bad joke. He is mentioned by later writers, often no doubt badauthorities, as having been in different places: in Megara, where he met with Aeschines (Diog. ii. 62; conf. Ep. Socr. 29): in Asia Minor, where he was imprisoned by the Persians, (Diog. ii. 79): in Corinth, where he revelled with Lais (Hermesianax in Ath. xiii. 599, b; Diog. ii. 71): in Aegina, where he not only lived for a time after the death of Socrates, but where, according to Athen. xiii. 688, e; conf. xii. 544, d, he every year took up his residence in company with Lais: and at Scillus, where Xenophon read to him his Memorabilia, Ep. Socr. 18. Much in particular is told of his stay at the court of Syracuse, of his hostile encounter with Plato, and of many other adventures, which he there experienced. But in these notices there is great confusion, since at one time the elder Dionysius, at another the younger Dionysius, at another simply Dionysius, is spoken of. Conf. Stein., p. 57. It is asserted by the Scholiast on Lucian, Men. 13, that Aristippus was at Syracuse under the elder Dionysius. This statement is borne out by Hegesander in Athen. xii. 644, c; for the Antiphon there mentioned was (according to Plu. De Adulat. 27, p. 68) executed by command of the elder Dionysius. The anecdote of his shipwreck in Galen. Exhort. c. 5, must be referred to the same time. It can only belong to his first visit to Sicily, but by Vitruve. vi. Prefat. was transferred to the island of Rhodes. On this point see Stein. 61. On the other hand, Plut. Dio. 19, brings him into contact with Plato on Plato’s third journey to Sicily, 361 BC, in the time of the younger Dionysius. The notices in Athen. xi. 507, b; Diog. ii. 66-69, 73, 75, 77-82, are indefinite, although the stories there told harmonise better with the court of the younger Dionysius than with that of his father. Nothing can however be laid down with certainty respecting the visits of Aristippus to Sicily. That he visited Sicily may be believed on tradition. That he there met Plato is not impossible, though it is also possible that the account of this meeting was invented in order to bring out the contrast between both philosophers. In fact, Plato’s journeys to Sicily were a favourite topic for later anecdote mongers. But anyone of the above stories, taken by itself alone, must be accepted with caution; nor is it even certain that he visited both the Dionysiuses. When the younger one came to the throne (368 BC) he was at least 60 years of age, and yet most of the stories which are told appear to have reference to him. On the other hand, Aristippus there appears in a character better suited to his years of travel than to his later years. The supposed accidents of meeting between Aristippus and Plato probably went the round as anecdotes, without any attention having been paid to their historical connection; and when this was done by subsequent biographers, it became impossible to find out what was fact.
|341| Subsequently he appears to have returned to his native city, and to have taken up his permanent residence there. 1 was a daughter, Here it is that we first hear of his family and his School. 2 The heiress to his principles was a daughter, Arete, a lady of sufficient education to instruct her son, 3 the younger Aristippus, 4
1 Whether this stay was shortened by frequent travels, whether Aristippus died in Cyrene or elsewhere, and how long he lived, are points unknown. For the journey to Sicily in 361 BCis, as we have seen, uncertain. The twenty-ninth letter, which Socrates is supposed to have addressed to his daughter from Lipara after his return, and in expectation of death, is valueless as a historical testimony, nor does it even render the existence of a corresponding tradition probable; and the hypothesis based on Diog. ii. 62, that Aristippus flourished at Athens in 356 has been with justice refuted by Stein., p. 82. Steinhart, Plat. Leben, 305, 33, proposes to read Ἀριστοτέλη for Ἀρίστιππον in Diog. ii. 62, but the chronology is against this correction. Σπεύσιππον would be better.
2 Generally called Cyrenaics, more rarely Hedonists, as in Athen. vii. 312, f; xiii. 588, a.
3 Who was thence called μητροδίσακτος.
4 Strabo, xvii. 3, 22, p. 837; Clemens, Strom. iv. 523, A.; Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 18, 32; Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xi. 1; Diog. ii. 72, 84, 86; Suid. Ἀρίστιππον; Themist. Or. xxi. 244. If, therefore, Aelian, H. Anim. iii. 40, calls Arete the sister of Aristippus, it must be through an oversight. Besides this daughter he is said to have had another son, whom he did not own, Diog. 81; Stob. Floril. 76, 14. Most likely this was only the child of an ἑταῖρα, although Stobeus calls his mother a wife.
in his |342| grandfather’s philosophy. Besides this daughter, Aethiops and Antipater are also mentioned as pupils of the elder Aristippus. 1 His grandson, the younger Aristippus, is said to have instructed Theodorus, called the Atheist; 2 the fruits of Antipater’s teaching 3
1 Diog. ii. 86. We know further from Cic. Tusc. v. 38, 112, that Antipater bore the loss of sight with resignation. Cicero tells a somewhat tame joke.
2 Diog. 86. This Theodorus appears to have belonged to the Optimates, who were driven from Cyrene in the party quarrels immediately after the death of Alexander, and took refuge with the Egyptian sovereigns. Thrige, Res. Cyren. 206. We hear of him as an exile in the last years of the fourth century (Plut. De Exil. 16, p. 606; Diog. 103; Philo, Qu. Omn. Pr. Lib. 884, C.), in Greece, and particularly atAthens (Diog. ii. 100,116; iv. 52; vi. 97), where a friend of Ptolemy’s, Demetrius Phalereus, helped him, between 316 and 306 BC, and subsequently at the court of Ptolemy, on whose behalf he undertook an embassy to Lysimachus (Diog. 102; Cic. Tusc. i. 43, 102; Valer. vi. 2, 3; Philo, l. c., Plut. An. Vittos. 3, p. 499; Stob. Floril. 2, 33). At last he returned to his own country, and was there held in great honour by Magus, the Egyptian governor, Diog. 103. What made him particularly notorious was his atheism. Indicted on this account at Athens, he was rescued by Demetrius, but obliged to leave the city (Diog. 101; Philo.). The assertion of Amphicrates (in Diog. and Athen. xiii. 611, a), that he was put to death by a hemlock-draught, is contradictory to all we know of him. According to Antisth. in Diog. 98, he was a pupil not only of Aristippus the younger, but also of Anniceris and of the dialectician Dionysius. It is however difficult to see how he can have been younger than Anniceris. Suid. Θεοδ. makes Zeno, Pyrrho, and Bryso (see p. 255, 1) his teachers, the first one probably with reason, the two others quite by mistake. Under Σώκρατ. he makes him a pupil of Socrates, at the same time confounding him with a mathematician from Cyrene of the same name (see p. 338, 4), who is known to us through Plato. In Diog. ii. 102, iv. 52, he is called a Sophist, i. e., one who took pay for his instruction.
3 According to Diog. 86, through Epitimides of Cyrene and his pupil Paraebates, the latter of whom is said to have studied under Aristippus. Suid. Ἀννίκερις.
|343| were Hegesias 1 and Anniceris. 2 These three men established separate branches of the Cyrenaic School, which bore their respective names. 3 Amongst the pupils of Theodorus were Bio the Borysthenite, 4 and perhaps Euemerus, the well-known Greek rationalist, 5
1 A contemporary of Ptolemy Lagi, who is said to have prohibited him from lecturing, because he described the ills of life so graphically that many were led to commit suicide. Cic. Tusc. i. 34, 83; Valer. Max. viii. 9, 3; Plut. Am. Prol. 5, p. 497. Suicide was also the subject of his book Ἀποκαρτερῶν, Cic. l. c. Hence his name Πεισιθάνατος, Diog. 86, Suid. Ἀποκαρτερῶν.
2 Probably also under Ptolemy I., although Suidas, Ἀννίκερις, places him in the time of Alexander. Conf. Antisth. in Diog. ii. 88.
3 For the Θεοδώρειοι and their teaching see Diog. 97; Callimachus in Athen. vi. 252, c; for the Ἡγησικαοί, Diog. 93; for the Ἀννικερέιοι ibid. 96; Strabo, xvii. 3, 22, p. 837; Clemens, Strom. ii, 417, B; Suid. Ἀννικερέιοι. Strabo calls Anniceris ὁ δοκῶν ἐπανοπθῶσαι τὴν Κυρηναϊκὴν αἵπεσιν καὶπαραγαγεῖν αὐτ αὐτῆς τὴν Ἀννικερίαν. To the Annicereans belonged Posidonius the pupil, and probably also Nicoteles, the brother of Anniceris. Suid. l. c.
4 This individual lived at Athens and other places (Diog. iv. 46, 49, 53; ii. 135). According to Diog. iv. 10, where, however, the Borysthenite appears to be meant, he was acquainted with Xenocrates. In Diog. iv. 46, 54, ii. 35; Athen. iv. 162, d, he appears as a contemporary of Menedemus (see p. 281), and the Stoic Perseus (Zellor’s Stoics, etc.). He appears, therefore, to have lived to the middle of the third century. According to Diog. iv. 51, he left the Academy, which he first frequented, and joined the Cynics (which reads in our text of Diogenes as if he had deserted the Academician Crates, in order to become a Cynic, but this is not possible in point of time; perhaps the original text meant that by the agency of Crates he was brought over from the Academy to Cynicism). He then turned to Theodore, and at last to Theophrastus, Diog. iv. 151. His free thought and the instability of his moral principles (Diog. iv. 49, 53) recall the School of Theodore, in which Numenius in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 6, 5, actually places him. In other respects he is rather a literary wit than a philosopher. See Diog. iv. 46-57, various of his in Plutarch.
5 Enemerus of Messene, according to the most numerous and approved authorities; according to others, of Agrigentum, Cos, or Tegea (see Sierokha, De Euhemero. Königsbg. 1869, p. 27), is often mentioned in connection with Theodorus, Diagoras, and other Atheists (Sieroka, 19, 31). The notion that Theodore was his teacher rests solely on hypothesis. For we have no business to write Εὐήμερον in Diog. ii. 97 instead of Επιήυρον (with Nietzsche, Rhein. Mus. N. F. xxv. 231). Epicurus derived his views respecting the Gods mostly from Theodorus’ treatise περὶ θεῶν. A connection with the Cyrenaic School is not in itself probable, since this was the only School which at that time busied itself with combating the popular belief. Doubtless, too, that tame resolution of the myths into history, for which Euemerus is known, is also quite after their taste; indeed, the Cynics who, together with the Cyrenaics, were at that time the representatives of free thought, did not resort to natural explanations, but to allegory. In point of time Kuemerus may easily have been a pupil of Theodorus. He lived under the Macedonian Cassander (811 to 298 BC), the latter having sent him on that journey on which he visited the fabulous island of Fanchis, and pretended to have discovered in a temple there the history of the Gods, the account of which is given in his ἱερὰ ἀναϕραϕή. Diodor. in Eus. Pr. Ev. ii. 2, 55; Plut. De Is. 23, p. 360. Copious extracts from this work are found in Diodorus, v. 41-46, and fragments of the translation undertaken by Ennius, or of a revision of this translation in Lactant, Inst. i. 11, 13 (see Vahlen, Ennian. Poës. Reliq., p. xciii. f); 17, 22, l. c. 169. Shorter notices of the contents of his treatise in Cic. N. D. i. 42, 119, followed by Minuc. Fel. Octav. 21, 2; also in Strabo, ii. 3, 5; 4, 2; p. 102, 104; vii. 3, 6, p. 299; Plat. l. c.; Athen. xiv. 658, e; Sext. Math. ix. 171, 34; Aug. C. D. vii. 26; Ep. 18; Serm. 273, 3; Higgin. Poet. Astron. ii. 12, 13, 42, D. See also Steroka and Steinhart, Allg. Encykl. v. Ersch. d. Gr. i. vol. 39, 50; Müller, Frag. Hist. Graec. ii. 100.
|344| while amongst his contemporaries was Aristotle of Cyrene. 1
B. Teaching of the Cyrenaics
The Cyrenaic teaching, the leading traits of which undoubtedly belong to Aristippus, 2
1 According to Diog. ii. 113, president of a philosophical School in the time of Stilpo, apparently at Athens. Diogenes there calls him Κυρηναῖος. Aelian, however, V. H. x. 3, in recording a saying of his, calls him Κυρηναϊκός. He is probably the Cyrenaic, who, according to Diog. v. 35, wrote a treatise περὶ ποιητικῶν. A saying in Stob. Floril. 63, 32, belongs to him according to some MSS., but to Aristippus according to Cod. B.
2 The thing is not altogether undisputed. Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 18, 31, f, says of the elder Aristippus, without doubt on the authority of Aristocles. This testimony appears to be further corroborated by the fact that Aristotle, in refuting the doctrine of pleasure, Eth. x. 2, does not mention Aristippus, but Eudoxus, as its representative. To this must be added what Sosicrates and others, according to Diog. 84, maintained, that Aristippus left no writings; which would at least point to a lower development of his teaching. Diog. ii. 64 does not quite prove so much: Πάντων μέντοι τῶν Σωκρατικῶν διαλόγων Παναίτιος ἀληθεῖς εἶναι δοκεῖ τοὺς Πλάτωνος, Ξενοφῶντος, Ἀντισθένους, Αἰσχίνου: for, according to 84 in our text, Panaetius is quoted as an authority for a number of dialogues of Aristippus. It may therefore be asked with Brandis, ii. a, 92, whether in 64, Aristippus’ name has not been omitted by some oversight; on the other hand, Διατριβαὶ were hardly dialogues: cf. Susemihl, Rhein. Mus. N. F. xxvi. 338. For these reasons Ritter, ii. 93, supposes that the views of Aristippus were not reduced to a connected form till a later time. The assertion of Sosicrates however appears to be without foundation; for Diogenes gives two lists of the works of Aristippus, which agree in the main, and one of which was acknowledged by Sotion and Panaetius. Theopompus knew of writings of his, for according to Athen. xi. 508, c, he accused Plato of plagiarism from the diatribes of Aristippus. Allowing then that subsequent additions were made to the writings of Aristippus, it cannot be supposed that the whole collection is spurious. Perhaps in ancient times, and in Greece proper, these writings were less diffused than those of the other followers of Socrates. This fact may easily be explained, supposing the greater part of them not to have been written till Aristippus had returned to his native country. It may also be the reason why Aristotle never mentions Aristippus; perhaps he omitted him because he included him among the Sophists, Metaph. iii. 2, 996, a, 32. The remarks of Eusebius can only be true in one sense, viz., that the elder Aristippus does not make use of the expression τέλος,and does not put his sentences in the form which subsequently prevailed in the Schools. That he recommended pleasure, that he declared it to be a good in the most decided manner, that thus the leading features of the Cyrenaic teaching are due to him, cannot be doubted, taking into account the numerous witnesses which affirm it, nor would the unity of his School be otherwise comprehensible. Doubtless Plato wrote the Philebus with an eye to this philosopher, and Speusippus had written on Aristippus, Diog. iv. 5.
like the Cynic, |345| takes up the practical side of the philosophy of Socrates. Of Aristippus too, and his pupils, it was |346| asserted, as well as of the Cynics, that they neglected questions touching nature and logic, giving to the study of ethics 1 exclusive value. Nor is this assertion disproved by the fact that they were themselves unable to keep clear of theory, the sole object of their teaching being to establish ethics, and indeed their own exclusive pursuit of ethics. 2 The end to be secured by philosophy is the happiness of mankind. On this point Aristippus and Antisthenes agree.
1 Diog. ii. 92: ἀφίσταντο δὲ καὶ τῶν φυσικῶν διὰ τὴν ἐμφαινομένην ἀκαταληψίαν: τῶν δὲ λογικῶν διὰ τὴν εὐχρηστίαν ἥπτοντο. Μελέαγρος δ᾽...καὶ Κλειτόμαχος...φασὶν αὐτοὺς ἄχρηστα ἡγεῖσθαι τό τε φυσικὸν μέρος καὶ τὸ διαλεκτικόν. δύνασθαι γὰρ καὶ εὖ λέγειν καὶ δεισιδαιμονίας ἐκτὸς εἶναι καὶ τὸν περὶ θανάτου φόβον ἐκφεύγειν τὸν <τὸν> περὶ ἀγαθῶν καὶ κακῶν λόγον ἐκμεμαθηκότα. Sext. Math. vii. 11; Plut. in Eus. Pr. Ev. i. 8, 9, which is also told of Socrates and Diogenes. Arist. Met. ii. 2, 996, a, 32: ὥστε διὰ ταῦτα τῶν σοφιστῶν τινὲς οἷον Ἀρίστιππος προεπηλάκιζεν αὐτάς: ἐν μὲν γὰρ ταῖς ἄλλαις τέχναις, καὶ ταῖς βαναύσοις, οἷον ἐν τεκτονικῇ καὶ σκυτικῇ, διότι βέλτιον ἢ χεῖρον λέγεσθαι πάντα, τὰς δὲ μαθηματικὰς οὐθένα ποιεῖσθαι λόγον περὶ ἀγαθῶν καὶ κακῶν. The same in Alex. on the passage Schol. in Arist. 609, b, 1; Ps. Alex. on Met. xiii. 3; 1078, a, 33; Ibid. 817, a, 11; Syrian in Metaph. Arist. T. v. 844, b, 6; 889, b, 19. Compare the language of Aristippus in Diog. ii. 71, 79; Plut. Ed. Pr. 10, 7.
2 According to the sense in which it is understood, it is equally true to say that they set logic aside and that they made use of it. See p. 347, 2. Of what was afterwards called logic, they appropriated just as much as was necessary for their theory of knowledge, but they assigned no independent value to it, nor did they extend their study of it beyond what was wanted for their purposes. Conf. Sen. Ep. 89, 12: Cyrenaici naturalia cum rationalibus sustulernunt et contenti fuerunt moralibus, sed hi quoque, quae removent, aliter inducunt.
|347| Antisthenes, however, knows of no happiness which does not immediately coincide with virtue, and thus makes virtue the only object in life. Aristippus, on the other hand, considers only enjoyment an end in itself, and only pleasure an unconditional good, 1 regarding everything else as good and desirable only in as far as it is a means to enjoyment. 2 Both Schools therefore at the very commencement diverge in opposite directions, their divergence, however, not preventing their subsequent approach to a greater extent than might seem at first sight to be possible.
(2) Feelings the only objects of knowledge. The ground thus occupied was worked out by Aristippus and his pupils as follows. 3
1 Aristippus in Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 3: ἐμαυτόν γε μέντοι τάττω εἰς τοὺς βουλομένους ᾗ ῥᾷστά τε καὶ ἥδιστα βιοτεύειν. Cic. Acad. iv. 42, 131: alii voluptatem summum bonum esse voluerunt: quorum princeps Aristippus. Ibid. Fin. ii. 6, 18; 13, 39; Diog. 87: ἡδονὴν...ἣν καὶ τέλος εἶναι, 88:ἡ ἡδονὴ δι᾽ αὑτὴν αἱρετὴ καὶ ἀγαθόν. Athen. Xii. 544, a: [Ἀρίστιππος] devoted himself to pleasure in such a way, that he said that it was the main end of life; and that happiness was founded on it, and that happiness was at best but short-lived. Euseb. l. c. p. 296, 1. The same view is mentioned and attacked by Plato, Gorg. 491, E; Rep. vi. 505, B (See above p. 312, 1), and Philebus, 11, B, where it is thus described: Philebus says that to all living beings enjoyment and pleasure and gaiety and whatever accords with that sort of thing are a good; whereas our contention is that not these, but wisdom and thought and memory and their kindred, right opinion and true reasonings, are better and more excellent than pleasure. Ibid. 66, D: it is a condition and disposition of the soul which can make life happy for all human beings. That Plato had Aristippus in mind will be presently shown in respect of the Philebus, and it is therewith proved for the Republic, which refers to the Philebus.
2 Diog. ii. 91: τὴν φρόνησιν ἀγαθὸν μὲν εἶναι λέγουσιν, οὐ δι᾽ ἑαυτὴν δὲ αἱρετήν, ἀλλὰ διὰ τὰ ἐξ αὐτῆς περιγινόμενα. 92: καὶ τὸν πλοῦτον δὲ ποιητικὸν ἡδονῆς εἶναι, οὐ δι᾽ αὑτὸν αἱρετὸν ὄντα. Cic. Off. iii. 33, 116: Cyrenaici atque Annicerei philosophi nominati omne bonum in voluptate posuerunt; virtutemque censuerunt ob eam rem esse laudandam, quod efficiens esset voluptatis. To this sentence of Aristippus, Wendt, Phil. Cyr. 28, and Ast refer the passage of the Phaedo, 68, E., but without reason. It refers to common unphilosophical virtue.
3 The Cyrenaics divided their ethics into five parts: Sext. Math. vii. 11 {including logic, ethics and physics}. Sen. Ep. 89, 12 (according to what has been said, p. 346, 2): in quinque enim partes moralia dividunt, ut una sit de fugiendis et expetendis, altera de adfectibus, tertia de actionibus, quarta de causis, quinta de argumentis: causae rerum ex naturali parte sunt, argumenta ex rationali, actiones ex morali. We cannot, however, tie our faith to this account, not knowing how the subject was divided among these several parts, nor how old and universal the division is. That it was not made by Aristippus may be gathered from the statements as to his writings. In the division περὶ πίστεων probably the theory of knowledge was treated, and in the preceding one the theory of motion.
Perceptions, |348| being feelings of a change within ourselves, do not supply us with the least information as to things in themselves. We may be indeed conscious of having a sensation of sweetness, whiteness, and so forth; but whether the object which causes the sensation is sweet, or white, is unknown to us. One and the same thing often produces an entirely different effect upon different persons. How then can we be sure, that in any given case, whether owing to the nature of our organism or to the circumstances under which we receive the impression, things do not appear to us entirely different from what they are in themselves? Knowledge, therefore, is limited to our own feelings; as to these we are never mistaken; but of things in themselves we know absolutely nothing. 1
1 Cic. Acad. ii. 46, 143: aliud judicium Protagore est, qui putet id cuique rerum esse, quod cuique videatur: aliud Cyrenaicorum, qui preter permotiones intimas nihil putant esse judicii. Ibid. 7, 20: de tactu, et eo quidem, quem philosophi interiorem vocant, aut doloris aut voluptatis, in quo Cyrenaici solo putant veri esse judicium. Plut. adv. Col. 24, 2, p. 1120. Sext. Math. vii. 191, who gives the most detailed account, but probably to a great extent in his own language: just as a diseased eye or a mad brain always sees things different from what they are. If, therefore, we understand by individual impressions, it must be said that all phenomena are true and comprehensible. If, on the contrary, every name means the thing by which the impression is produced, all phenomena are false and cannot be known. See Pyrrh. i. 215; Diog. ii. 92. Ibid. 93. Ibid. 95 of the School of Hegesias, which does not in this respect differ from others. Aristotle in Eus. Prep. Ev. xiv. 19, 1: (which in the face of the definite statements of Cicero, Plutarch and Sextus, does not prove that this doctrine did not belong to the whole School, nor can this be intended. Conf. c. 18, 31), Sextus, Math. vi. 53 is inaccurate. The Cyrenaics, we gather from the above, cannot have denied the existence of things, but only our knowledge of their existence. This whole theory probably belongs to the elder Aristippus, as will be probable from a passage in Plato soon to be mentioned. Against Tenneman’s notion (Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 106) that it first came from Theodorus, see Wendt, Phil. Cyr. 45.
Just as |349| little do we know of the feelings of other people. There may be common names, but there are no |350| common feelings, and when two persons say that they have felt the same thing, neither of them can be certain that he has experienced the same feeling as the other, since he is only conscious of his own state and not of that of another. 1
Thus, like Protagoras, 2 the Cyrenaics regard all notions as relative and individual; their view differing from his in this respect only that they refer notions more directly to internal feelings, and leave out of sight 3
1 Sext. Math. vii. 195.
2 Zeller’s Phil. d. Griech, i. 869.
3 The last point has been too much lost sight of by Schleiermacher (Plato’s Werke, ii. 1, 183), who considers the description of the Protagorean teaching in the Thestetus to be chiefly meant for Aristippus, whose view does not absolutely coincide with that of Protagoras. See Wendt, Phil. Cyr. 37. On the other hand, the difference between them is exaggerated by the Academician in Cic. (see p. 348, 1), who ascribes to Protagoras a view entirely different from that of the Cyrenaics, and by Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 19, 5, who after discussing the Cyrenaics introduces Protagoras, only asserted the truth of all perceptions in the sense that they were all true for him who perceived them, that things were to each one what they appeared to him to be. In this sense the Cyrenaics, as Sextus has rightly shown, declared all to be true, but both they and Protagoras said nothing about objective truth, Hermann’s objection here to Ges. Ab. 235, on the ground that Protagoras was far more subjective than Aristippus, since Aristippus presupposed an agreement amongst men in describing their impressions, is still more at variance with the statements of Cicero and Eusebius, to which Hermann appeals,for they do not make Protagoras more subjective than Aristippus, but Aristippus more subjective than Protagoras. In the next place it is not correct. Of course Protagoras did not deny that certain names were used by all, he even treated himself of the ἀρθότης ὀνομάτων (Zeller’s Phil. d. Griech. i. 933, 1), but what is the use of agreeing in names when the things differ? The Cyrenaics are only more accurate than Protagoras in asserting that perceptions which are called by the same name are not the same in different persons. But there is no disagreement in the teaching of the two.
Heraclitus’ doctrine of perpetual flow |351| as something not wanted for their purposes and transcending the limits of human knowledge. 1 If knowledge, however, be confined to knowledge of feelings, it follows on the one hand that it would be absurd to seek for a knowledge of things, such knowledge being once for all impossible; and thus the sceptical attitude assumed by the Cyrenaics in respect to knowledge, was the ground of their conviction of the worthlessness of all physical enquiries. 2
1 Had they acted consistently they must have regarded as such every attempt at a natural explanation of our perceptions, We must, therefore, not be misled by Plut. N. P. Suav. Vivi Sec. Epic. 4, 5, p. 1069, so as to attribute to them the view of Democritus about pictures and emanating forms.
2 As Diog. ii, 92 remarks, (See p. 346, 1.)
On the other hand, for this very reason feeling only can give |352| the rule by which the aim of actions is determined and their value tested. For things being only known to us in our own feelings, the production of certain feelings is all that can be attained by action; hence the best thing for us will be what is most gratifying to our feelings. 1 Here from the Cyrenaic theory of knowledge follow those ethical principles, which in other ways also it was their main object to establish.
(3) Pleasure and pain. All feeling, as Aristippus assumes, following Protagoras, consisting in an emotion in him who experiences it, if the motion be gentle, there arises a feeling of pleasure; if rough and violent, 2 of pain;
1 Sext. Math. vii. 199: ibid. 200.
2 Euseb. Pr. Ev. xiv. 18, 32, says of the younger Aristippus on the authority of Aristocles: He quite plainly defined the end to be the life of pleasure, ranking as pleasure that which lies in motion. For he said that there are three states affecting our temperament: one, in which we feel pain, like a storm at sea; another, in which we feel pleasure, that may be likened to a gentle undulation, for pleasure is a gentle movement, comparable to a favourable breeze; and the third is an intermediate state, in which we feel neither pain nor pleasure, which is similar to a calm. So of these feelings only, he said, we have the sensation.
Diog. ii. 86, says almost the same thing of the older Cyrenaic school δύο πάθη ὑφίσταντο, πόνον καὶ ἡδονήν, τὴν μὲν λείαν κίνησιν, τὴν ἡδονήν, τὸν δὲ πόνον τραχεῖαν κίνησιν.δύο πάθη ὑφίσταντο, πόνον καὶ ἡδονήν, τὴν μὲν λείαν κίνησιν, τὴν ἡδονήν, τὸν δὲ πόνον τραχεῖαν κίνησιν; ibid 89, 90: both pleasure and pain they hold to consist in motion; they insist that bodily pleasures are far better than mental pleasures, and bodily pains far worse than mental pains
. Sext. Pyrrh. i. 215; Math. vii. 199. That these statements come, on the whole, from the elder Aristippus, appears to be established by several passages in the Philebus. After Socrates (p. 31, B) has there shown that pain consists in a violation, and pleasure in a restoration, of the natural connection between the parts of a living being, he appends (p. 42, D) the question: What would happen if neither of these changes were to take place? The representative of the theory of pleasure having answered in a way afterwards repeated by Plato, Rep. ix. 583, C, that in this case there would be neither pleasure nor pain: “pain is the opposite of pleasure...there is a neutral state intermediate between them, a kind of quietude of the soul.” Accordingly the answer is modified to mean that great changes produce pleasure and pain, but small ones neither. To the same view he comes back (on p. 53, C), with the words: “Is it not intermediate between them, and in the mean, being a kind of quietude of the soul in these respects?” These latter words clearly prove that the assertion, all pleasure consists in motion, had been uttered by some one else, when, Plato wrote the Philebus; and since with the exception of Aristippus no one is known to whom they could be referred (Protagoras did not draw the ethical conclusions of his principles), since moreover this assertion is universally attributed to the School of Aristippus, since too the epithet κομψὸς suits him best, it is most probable that both this passage and the passage connected with it on the two kinds of motion and rest, are his. The same applies to the remark, that small changes make no impression. Likewise, Diog. ii. 85, says of Aristippus: Τέλος δ᾽ ἀπέφαινε τὴν λείαν κίνησιν εἰς αἴσθησιν ἀναδιδομένην, according to which not every slight motion is felt or produces pleasure. Perhaps it is in reference to this that Arist. Eth. N. vii. 13, 1153, a, 12, says: διὸ καὶ οὐ καλῶς ἔχει τὸ αἰσθητὴν γένεσιν φάναι εἶναι τὴν ἡδονήν. Nor can we allow that there is a discrepancy (as Susemihl, Genet. Entw. d. Plat. Phil. ii. 35, note, 720 asserts) between the language of Plato, p. 42, D, and the statements which attribute to Aristippus the assumption of an intermediate state between pleasure and pain. Hence we cannot countenance the conjecture that Aristippus acquired from Plato the more accurate limitation of his teaching. Why did not Aristippus say: We are at all times in a state of gentle or violent motion, but pleasure or pain only arises, when we become conscious of this motion? Yet this is exactly what he did say according to Diogenes, and what Plato makes his representative say, though certainly not without some conversational help.
if again |353| we are in a state of repose, or the motion is so weak as to be imperceptible, there is no feeling either of pleasure or pain. Of these three states, only that of pleasure is absolutely desirable. Hereto nature bears witness; all following pleasure as the highest end, and avoiding nothing so carefully as pain, 1 unless indeed their judgment be perverted by unfounded fancies. 2
1 Diog. 88; 87; Plato, Phil. 11, B. See above p. 347, 1.
2 Diog. ii. 89: δύνασθαι δέ φασι καὶ τὴν ἡδονήν τινας μὴ αἱρεῖσθαι κατὰ διαστροφήν.
To put freedom from pain in the place of |354| pleasure would not be correct, for where there is no emotion, enjoyment is as little possible as pain, the condition being one of insensibility, as in sleep. 1 Thus the good comes to be identical with what is agreeable—with pleasure; the evil, with what is disagreeable, or unpleasant; what affords neither pleasure nor pain can be neither good nor evil. 2
(4) The highest good. From this view it follows, as a matter of course, good that individual feelings of pleasure must, as such, be the ends of all actions. Simple repose of mind, that freedom from pain, in which Epicurus at a later time placed the highest good, cannot, for the reason just given, be this good. 3
1 Diog. 89: ἡ δὲ τοῦ ἀλγοῦντος ὑπεξαίρεσις, ὡς εἴρηται παρ᾽ Ἐπικούρῳ, δοκεῖ αὐτοῖς μὴ εἶναι ἡδονή: οὐδὲ ἡ ἀηδονία ἀλγηδών. ἐν κινήσει γὰρ εἶναι ἀμφότερα, μὴ οὔσης τῆς ἀπονίας ἢ τῆς ἀηδονίας κινήσεως, ἐπεὶ ἡ ἀπονία οἱονεὶ καθεύδοντός ἐστι κατάστασις. {The removal of pain, however, which is put forward in Epicurus, seems to them not to be pleasure at all, any more than the absence of pleasure is pain.
} Such explicit statements probably belong to a later time, and are due principally to the School of Anniceris in contrast to Epicurus, according to Clemens, Strom. ii. 417 B.
2 Sext. Matt. vii. 199. See p. 352, 2.
3 See p. 300, 1. Diog. ii. 87: ἡδονὴν μέντοι τὴν τοῦ σώματος, ἣν καὶ τέλος εἶναι, καθά φησι καὶ Παναίτιος ἐν τῷ Περὶ τῶν αἱρέσεων, οὐ τὴν καταστηματικὴν ἡδονὴν τὴν ἐπ᾽ ἀναιρέσει ἀλγηδόνων καὶ οἷον ἀνοχλησίαν, ἣν ὁ Ἐπίκουρος ἀποδέχεται καὶ τέλος εἶναί φησι. {The bodily pleasure which is the end is, according to Panaetius in his work On the Sects, not the settled pleasure following the removal of pains, or the sort of freedom from discomfort which Epicurus accepts and maintains to be the end.
} Perhaps the words in Cic. Fin. ii. 6, 18 (after his having said similar things, i. 1, 39), are taken from a similar passage: aut enim eam voluptatem tueretur, quam Aristippus, i.e. qua sensus dulciter ac jucunde movetur...nec Aristippus, qui voluptatem summum bonum dicit, in voluptate ponit non dolere. 13, 39: Aristippi Cyrenaicorumque omnium; quos non est veritum in ea voluptate quz maxime dulcedine sensum moveret, summum bonum ponere, contemnentes istam vacuitatem doloris.
It also appeared to the Cyrenaics unsatisfactory to make the happiness of the whole life the point to be kept in view, and to make it the |355| aim of mankind to procure for themselves the highest sum total of enjoyments that can be in this life. Such a principle requires the past and the future as well as the present to be included in the pursuit, neither of which are in our power, and which certainly afford no enjoyment. A future feeling of pleasure is an emotion which has not yet begun; a past one is one which has already ceased. 1 The one only rule of life is to cultivate the art of enjoying the present moment. Only the present is ours. Forbear then to trouble for that which is already past and for that what may never be yours. 2
1 Diog. 87: δοκεῖ δ᾽ αὐτοῖς καὶ τέλος εὐδαιμονίας διαφέρειν. τέλος μὲν γὰρ εἶναι τὴν κατὰ μέρος ἡδονήν, εὐδαιμονίαν δὲ τὸ ἐκ τῶν μερικῶν ἡδονῶν σύστημα, αἷς συναριθμοῦνται καὶ αἱ παρῳχηκυῖαι καὶ αἱ μέλλουσαι. Εἶναί τε τὴν μερικὴν ἡδονὴν δι᾽ αὑτὴν αἱρετήν: τὴν δ᾽ εὐδαιμονίαν οὐ δι᾽ αὑτήν, ἀλλὰ διὰ τὰς κατὰ μέρος ἡδονάς. {They hold that there is a difference between ‘end’ and ‘happiness.’ Our end is particular pleasure, whereas happiness is the sum total of all particular pleasures, in which are included both past and future pleasures. Particular pleasure is desirable for its own sake, whereas happiness is desirable not for its own sake but for the sake of particular pleasures.
} 89: ἀλλὰ μὴν οὐδὲ κατὰ μνήμην τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἢ προσδοκίαν ἡδονήν φασιν ἀποτελεῖσθαι: ὅπερ ἤρεσκεν Ἐπικούρῳ. ἐκλύεσθαι γὰρ τῷ χρόνῳ τὸ τῆς ψυχῆς κίνημα. {Our end is particular pleasure, whereas happiness is the sum total of all particular pleasures, in which are included both past and future pleasures. Particular pleasure is desirable for its own sake, whereas happiness is desirable not for its own sake but for the sake of particular pleasures.
} Ibid. 91: ἀρκεῖ δὲ κἂν κατὰ μίαν [ἡδονήν] τις προσπίπτουσαν ἡδέως ἐπανάγῃ. Athen. xiii. 544, a: [Aristippus] devoted himself to pleasure in such a way, that he said that it was the main end of life; and that happiness was founded on it, and that happiness was at best but short-lived. And he, like the most debauched of men, thought that he had nothing to do either with the recollection of past enjoyments, or with the hope of future ones; but he judged of all good by the present alone. Aelian. V. H. xiv. 6: πάνυ σφόδρα ἐρρωμένως ἐῴκει λέγειν ὁ Ἀρίστιππος, παρεγγυῶν τοῖς ἀνθρώποις μήτε τοῖς παρελθοῦσιν ἐπικάμνειν μήτε τῶν ἐπιόντων προκάμνειν: εὐθυμίας γὰρ δεῖγμα τὸ τοιοῦτο καὶ ἵλεω διανοίας ἀπόδειξις. προσέταττε δὲ ἐφ᾽ ἡμέρᾳ τὴν γνώμην ἔχειν καὶ αὖ πάλιν τῆς ἡμέρας ἐπ᾽ ἐκείνῳ τῷ μέρει, καθ᾽ ὃ ἕκαστος ἢ πράττει τι ἢ ἐννοεῖ. μόνον γὰρ ἔφασκεν ἡμέτερον εἶναι τὸ παρόν, μήτε δὲ τὸ φθάνον μήτε τὸ προσδοκώμενον: τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἀπολωλέναι, τὸ δὲ ἄδηλον εἶναι εἴπερ ἔσται. There can be no doubt that Aristippus had already propounded these views, his whole life presupposing them, and his other views immediately leading to them, p. 352, 2. The precise formularising of them may very possibly belong to the period of Epicurus.
2 Diog. 66: ἀπέλαυε μὲν γὰρ ἡδονῆς τῶν παρόντων, οὐκ ἐθήρα δὲ πόνῳ τὴν ἀπόλαυσιν τῶν οὐ παρόντων: ὅθεν καὶ Διογένης βασιλικὸν κύνα ἔλεγεν αὐτόν. {He derived pleasure from what was present, and did not toil to procure the enjoyment of something not present Hence Diogenes called him the king's poodle.}
|356| The character of the things whence the feeling of pleasnre arises is in itself unimportant. Every pleasure as such is a good, nor is there in this respect any difference between one enjoyment and another. They may spring from various, even from opposite sources, but considered by themselves, they are all alike, one is as good as the other, a pleasurable emotion, and as such always a natural object of desire. 1 The Cyrenaics therefore can never allow that there are pleasures not only declared by law and custom to be bad, but bad by their very nature. In their view pleasure may be occasioned by a disreputable action, but in itself it is nevertheless good and desirable. 2
(5) Modified form of this extreme view. At the same time this principle received several limitations by means of which its severity was considerably toned down, and its application restricted.
1 Diog. 87: μὴ διαφέρειν τε ἡδονὴν ἡδονῆς, μηδὲ ἥδιόν τι εἶναι. Plato, Phileb. 12, D., where the champion of pleasure answers the objection of Socrates that good pleasures must be distinguished from had ones thus: εἰσὶ μὲν γὰρ ἀπ᾽ ἐναντίων...αὗται πραγμάτων, οὐ μὴν αὐταί γε ἀλλήλαις ἐναντίαι. πῶς γὰρ; ἡδονῇ γε ἡδονὴ μὴ οὐχ ὁμοιότατον ἂν εἴη, τοῦτο αὐτὸ ἑαυτῷ, πάντων χρημάτων; Ibid. 13, A.: λέγεις γὰρ ἀγαθὰ πάντ᾽ εἶναι τὰ ἱδέα., how is this possible in the case of the worst pleasures? to which Protarchus replies: πῶς λέγεις, ὦ Σώκρατες; οἴει γάρ τινα συγχωρήσεσθαι, θέμενον ἡδονὴν εἶναι τἀγαθόν, εἶτα ἀνέξεσθαί σουλέγοντος τὰς μὲν εἶναί τινας ἀγαθὰς ἡδονάς, τὰς δέ τινας ἑτέρας αὐτῶν κακάς. Just as little will Protarchus (36, C) allow that there is imaginary pleasure and pain. See p. 347, 1.
2 Diog. 88: εἶναι δὲ τὴν ἡδονὴν ἀγαθὸν κἂν ἀπὸ τῶν ἀσχημοτάτων γένηται, καθά φησιν Ἱππόβοτος ἐν τῷ Περὶ αἱρέσεων. εἰ γὰρ καὶ ἡ πρᾶξις ἄτοπος εἴη, ἀλλ᾽ οὖν ἡ ἡδονὴ δι᾽ αὑτὴν αἱρετὴ καὶ ἀγαθόν.. To the same effect is the passage quoted from the Philebus on p. 358, 1.
In the first place, the Cyrenaics could not deny that |357| notwithstanding the essential likeness there were yet differences of degree in feelings of pleasure: for allowing that every pleasure as such is good, it does not follow that the same amount of good belongs to all: as a matter of fact one affords more enjoyment than another, and therefore deserves to be preferred to it. 1 Just as little did it escape their notice, that many enjoyments are only purchased at the cost of greater pain; hence they argue unbroken happiness is so hard to gain. 2 They therefore required the consequences of an action to be taken into account; thus endeavouring again to secure by an indirect method the contrast between good and evil which they would not at first allow to attach to actions themselves.
1 Diog. 87 says that the Cyrenaics denied a difference in degrees of pleasure, but this is undoubtedly a mistake; ii. 90, says that they taught that bodily feelings of pleasure and pain were stronger than mental ones. See p. 358, 3. Plato too, Phil. 45, A: 65 E, in the spirit of this School, talks of μέγισται τῶν ἡδονῶν, nor is there the slightest reason for equalising all enjoyments in their system. They could not allow that there was an absolute difference of value between them, some being good and others bad; but they had no occasion to deny a relative difference between the more or less good, and they might even allow of different kinds of pleasure, those of the body and mind for instance. Ritter’s remarks on Diog. ii. 103, do not appear conclusive. Just as little can those of Wendt (Phil. Cyr. 34, Gott. Aug. 1836, 789) be entertained. According to Diogenes the Cyrenaics only denied that any object taken by itself and independently of our feelings was more pleasant than another.
2 Diog. 90: διὸ [?] καὶ καθ᾽ αὑτὴν αἱρετῆς οὔσης τῆς ἡδονῆς τὰ ποιητικὰ ἐνίων ἡδονῶν ὀχληρὰ πολλάκις ἐναντιοῦσθαι: ὡς δυσκολώτατον αὐτοῖς φαίνεσθαι τὸν ἀθροισμὸν τῶν ἡδονῶν εὐδαιμονίαν ποιούντων. See p. 355, 1.
An action should be avoided when therefrom more pain follows than pleasure; hence a man of sense will abstain from things which are |358| condemned by the laws of the state and public opinion. 1 Lastly, they also directed their attention to the difference between bodily and mental pleasures. 2 Holding bodily pains and pleasures to be more pungent than those of the mind; 3 perhaps even attempting to show that all pleasure and its opposite are in the last resource conditioned by bodily feelings; 4
1 Diog. 93:μηδέν τε εἶναι φύσει δίκαιον ἢ καλὸν ἢ αἰσχρόν, the value of every action depending on the pleasure which follows it, Xἀλλὰ νόμῳ καὶ ἔθει. ὁ μέντοι σπουδαῖος οὐδὲν ἄτοπον πράξει διὰ τὰς ἐπικειμένας ζημίας καὶ δόξας. Wendt (Phil. Cyr. 25) calls this statement in question without reason. It is quite consistent in Aristippus, and is met with in Epicurus; Zeller, Stoics, etc.; but he is right (ibid. 36, 42) in rejecting Schleiermacher’s hypothesis (Pl. W. ii. 1, 183; ii. 2, 18), that in the Gorgias Aristippus is being refuted under the name of Callicles, and in the Cratylus 384, Diogenes under that of Hermogenes.
2 Which, strictly speaking, they could only have done by saying that one portion of our impressions appears to us to come from the body, another not; for they had long since given up all real knowledge of things. But their consistency hardly went so far as this.
3 Diog. ii. 90: πολὺ μέντοι τῶν ψυχικῶν τὰς σωματικὰς ἀμείνους εἶναι, καὶ τὰς ὀχλήσεις χείρους τὰς σωματικάς. ὅθεν καὶ ταύταις κολάζεσθαι μᾶλλον τοὺς ἁμαρτάνοντας. (The same, ibid. 137. Epicurus: holds the pains of the mind to be the worse; at any rate the flesh endures the storms of the present alone, the mind those of the past and future as well as the present. In this way also he holds mental pleasures to be greater than those of the body.)
4 This is indicated by the expression οἰκειότερον {disposed to} in the above passage also. See p. 359, 2. To say that not all pleasure and pain is connected with bodily states, may be harmonised with this statement by taking it to be their meaning, that not every feeling has its immediate object in the body, without, however, denying more remote connection between such feelings and the body. Joy for one’s country’s prosperity might in their minds be connected with the thought that our own happiness depends on that of our country. It can only be considered an opponent’s exaggeration for Panaetius and Cicero to assert that the Cyrenaics made bodily pleasure the end of life. (See p. 354, 3.) Cic. Acad. iv. 45, 139: Aristippus, quasi animum nullum habeamus, corpus solum tuetur. The highest good Aristippus declared consists not in bodily pleasure, but in pleasure generally. If he regarded bodily pleasure as the strongest, and in the sense as the best, it by no means follows that he excluded mental pleasures from the idea of good. Indeed, his remarks respecting the value of prudence make this probable. See Wendt, 22.
|359| they nevertheless contended that there must be a something besides sensuous feelings, or it would be impossible to explain how unequal impressions are produced by perceptions altogether alike:—the sight, for instance, of the sufferings of others, if they are real, gives a painful impression; if only seen on the stage, a pleasurable one. 1 They even allowed that there are pleasures and pains of the mind which have no immediate reference to any states of the body. The prosperity, for instance, of our country fills us with as much pleasure as does our own. 2 Although therefore pleasure is in general made to coincide with the good, and pain with evil, the Cyrenaics are far from expecting happiness to result from the mere satisfaction of animal instincts. For a true enjoyment of life, you not only need to weigh the value and the consequences of every enjoyment, but you need also to acquire the proper disposition of mind. The most essential help to a pleasant life is prudence, 3 not only because it supplies that presence of mind which is never at a loss for means, 4
1 Diog. 90: λέγουσι δὲ μηδὲ κατὰ ψιλὴν τὴν ὅρασιν ἢ τὴν ἀκοὴν γίνεσθαι ἡδονάς. τῶν γοῦν μιμουμένων θρήνους ἡδέως ἀκούομεν, τῶν δὲ κατ᾽ ἀλήθειαν ἀηδῶς. The same is found in Plut. Qu. Conv. v. 1, 2, 7, p. 674. Here belongs Cic. Tusc. ii. 18, 28.
2 Diog. 89: οὐ πάσας μέντοι τὰς ψυχικὰς ἡδονὰς καὶ ἀλγηδόνας ἐπὶ σωματικαῖς ἡδοναῖς καὶ ἀλγηδόσι γίνεσθαι. καὶ γὰρ ἐπὶ ψιλῇ τῇ τῆς πατρίδος εὐημερίᾳ ὥσπερ τῇ ἰδίᾳ χαρὰν ἐγγίνεσθαι.
3 See p. 347, 2.
4 See the anecdotes and proverbs in Diog. 68; 73; 79; 82, and what Galen. Exhort. c. 5, vol. i. 8, K., and Vitruv. vi. Pref. i, say of his shipwreck. Conf. Exc. e Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 188.
but, mainly, because it teaches how to make a proper use of the |360| good things of life; 1 freeing from the prejudices and fancies which stand in the way of success, such as envy, passionate love, superstition; 2 preserving from regret for the past, from desire for the future, from dependence on present enjoyment; and guaranteeing that freedom of soul of which we stand in need would we at every moment rest contented with our present lot. 3
Hence the cultivation of the mind is urgently advocated by these philosophers, 4 and philosophy in particular pointed to as the way to a truly human life. 5 They even assert that therein lies the essential condition of happiness; for although mankind are too far dependent on external circumstances for the wise man to be invariably happy, and the foolish man invariably miserable, 6 yet as a rule so it is.
1 Demetr. (Elocut. 296) mentions as an εἶδος τοῦ λόγου Ἀριστίππειον λέγεται: ἕτερος δὲ ταὐτὸν ὑποθετικῶς προοίσεται, καθάπερ Ξενοφῶντος τὰ πολλά, οἷον ὅτι ῾δεῖ γὰρ οὐ χρήματα μόνον ἀπολιπεῖν τοῖς ἑαυτῶν παισίν, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐπιστήμην τὴν χρησομένην αὐτοῖς.᾿ The thought is Socratic. See p. 141, 2.
2 Diog. 91: τὸν σοφὸν μήτε φθονήσειν μήτε ἐρασθήσεσθαι: (on this point compare the language used by Aristippus respecting his relations to Lais) ἢ δεισιδαιμονήσεσθαι, whereas he is not preserved from fear and sorrow as being natural consequences.
3 See p. 355, 2.
4 Many expressions to this effect are on record, particularly those of Aristippus, Diog. li. 69, 70, 72, 80. Plut. Frag. 9, 1, and comment. in Hes.
5 See the saying of Aristippus in Diog. ii. 72; Plut. Ed. Pu. 74. He is also mentioned by Diogenes ii. 68 (Conf. Exe. e Floril. Joan. Damasc. ii. 13, 146) as the author of the saying, which Cic. Rep. i. 2; Plut. adv. Col. 30, 2, p. 1124, attribute to Xenocrates, that the conduct of the philosopher would remain the same, supposing all laws to be abolished.
6 Diog. 91: Ἀρέσκει δ᾽ αὐτοῖς μήτε τὸν σοφὸν πάντα ἡδέως ζῆν, μήτε πάντα φαῦλον ἐπιπόνως, ἀλλὰ κατὰ τὸ πλεῖστον. In the same way the Cyrenaics would not deny that the ἄφρονες were capable of certain virtues. Probably this was only expressly stated by later members of the School in agreement with the Cynics and Stoics.
Nor |361| is this a departure from the fundamental principle of the School, the pursuit of pleasure, but certainly something very different has come of it from what might at first have been expected.
C. Practical Life of the Cyrenaics
Herewith agrees all that is further known as to the views and conduct of Aristippus. His leading thought is comprised in the adage, that life offers most to him who, without ever denying himself a pleasure, at every moment continues master of himself and his surroundings. The Cynic freedom from wants is not his concern. Prudent enjoyment he says is a greater art 1 than abstinence. He lived not only comfortably, but even luxuriously. 2 A good table he enjoyed, 3 wore costly clothing, 4 scented himself with perfumes, 5 and caroused with mistresses. 6
1 Stob. Floril. 17, 18. Diog. 75: τὸ κρατεῖν καὶ μὴ ἡττᾶσθαι ἡδονῶν ἄριστον, οὐ τὸ μὴ χρῆσθαι.
2 Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 1, already calls him ἀκολαστοτέρως ἔχοντα πρὸς τὰ τοιαῦτα [πρὸς ἐπιθυμίαν βρωτοῦ καὶ ποτοῦ καὶ λαγνείας], etc. He says himself then, 1, 9, that his object is ᾗ ῥᾷστά τε καὶ ἥδιστα βιοτεύειν. and Socrates asks whether he depended for his homelessness on the circumstance that no one could like to have him even as a slave? {1, 15} τίς γὰρ ἂν ἐθέλοι ἄνθρωπον ἐν οἰκίᾳ ἔχειν πονεῖν μὲν μηδὲν ἐθέλοντα, τῇ δὲ πολυτελεστάτῃ διαίτῃ χαίροντα; this picture was afterwards more deeply coloured by later writers, and certainly not without exaggeration. See Athen. xii. 544, 6, e. according to Alexis; ibid. viii. 343, according to Soter; Timon in Diog. ii. 66; ibid. ii. 69, iv. 40; Lucian. V. Auct. 12; Clemens, Pedag. ii. 176, D.; Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 18, 31; Epiph. Exp. Fid. 1089 A.; Steele, p. 41; 71.
3 See the anecdotes in Diog. ii. 66, 68, 69, 75, 76.
4 Max. Tyr. Diss. vii. 9; Lucian, l. c.; Ibid. Cic. Acc. 28; Tatian adv. Grac. c. 2; Tert. Apol. 46.
5 That he made use of fragrant perfumes, and defended this practice, is told by Seneca, Benef. vii. 25, 1; Clem. Paed. ii. 176 D, 179 B, Diog. 76, all apparently from the same source, the others mentioned by Stein, 43, 1, probably doing likewise.
6 His relations to Lais are well known. Hermesianax in Athen. xiii. 599, b, 588 c; xii. 44, b, d.; Cic. ad Fam. ix. 26; Plut. Erot. 4, 5, p. 750; Diog. 74, 85; Clemens, Strom. ii. 411, C.; Theod. Cur. Gr. Aff. xii. 50, p. 173; Lact. Inst. iii. 15. A few other stories of the same kind may be found, Diog. 67; 69; 81; iv. 40.
Nor were |362| the means neglected by which this mode of life was rendered possible. On the contrary, he argued that the more of these you possess, the better for you. Riches are not like shoes, which when too large can not be worn. 1 He accordingly not only demanded payment for his instruction; 2 but did not hesitate to enrich himself by means, and for this purpose to submit to things which any other philosopher would have considered below his dignity. 3
1 Stob. Floril. 94, 32.
2 See p. 339, 5.
3 Here belong many of the anecdotes which relate to Aristippus’ stay at the court of Dionysius. According to Diog. 77, Aristippus is said to have announced to Dionysius, on his arrival, that he came to impart what he had, and to receive what he had not; or, according to a more probable version, Ibid. 78, when he wanted instruction he used to go to Socrates for it, now that he wanted money, he had come to Dionysius. To the same person, too, according to Diog. 69, his remark was addressed that the reason why philosophers appeared before the doors of the rich, and not the contrary, was because philosophers knew what they wanted, whilst the rich did not. The same story is found in Stob. Floril. 3, 46, and in a somewhat different connection, Diog. 70 and 81. Yet Schleiermacher on Plato’s Republic, vi. 489, has no business to refer this passage to this remark, because of Arist. Rhet. ii. 16, 1391, a, 8, but he is quite right in setting down the Scholiast who wished to attribute the remark of Socrates to Aristippus. Of the liberal offer made by Dionysius to Plato, he remarks in Plut. Dio 19: ἀσφαλῶς ἔφη μεγαλόψυχον εἶναι Διονύσιον: αὐτοῖς μὲν γὰρ μικρὰ διδόναι πλειόνων δεομένοις, Πλάτωνι δὲ πολλὰ μηδὲν λαμβάνοντι. Dionysius at first refusing to give him any money because the wise man, on his own showing, was never in difficulties, he replied, Give me the money this once, and I will explain to you how it is; but no sooner had he got it, than he exclaimed, Ah! was I not right? Diog. 82, Diog. 67, 73, and Athen. xii. 544, tell further, on the authority of Hegesander, that once having been placed at the bottom of the table by Dionysius because of some free expression, he contented himself with remarking, Today, this is the place of honour which he assigns. Another time he is said to have taken it quite quietly when Dionysius spat in his face, observing: A fisherman must put up with more moisture, to catch even a smaller fish. Once, when begging a favour for a friend, he fell at the feet of Dionysius, Diog. 79, and when reproached for so doing, Wherefore, he asked, has Dionysius ears on his legs? It is a common story that Dionysius once asked him and Plato to appear dressed in purple: Plato refused to do so, but Aristippus acceded with a smile. Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 204, i. 155; Diog. 78; Suid. Ἀρίστ.; Stob. Floril. 5, 46; Greg. Naz. Carm. ii. 10, 324: the latter unskillfully places the incident at the court of Archelaus. Stein, 67. The observation in Diog. 81, is likewise referred to Plato, that he allowed himself to be abused by Dionysius for the same reasons that others abused him: a preacher of morals after all is only pursuing his own interests. He is represented as a flatterer and parasite of Dionysius, by Lucian V. Aut. 12; Parasit. 33, Bis Accus. 28; Men. 13.
The fear of |363| death too, from which his teaching professed to deliver, 1 was not so fully overcome by him that he could face danger with the composure of a Socrates 2
It would, nevertheless, be doing Aristippus a great injustice to consider him an ordinary, or at most a somewhat more intellectual pleasure-seeker. Enjoy he will, but, at the same time, he will be above enjoyment. He possesses not only the skill of adapting himself to circumstances and making use of persons and things, 3
1 See Diog. 76: at the same time the Cyrenaics consider fear to be something natural and unavoidable. See p. 360, 2.
2 On the occasion of a storm at sea he was charged with displaying more fear than others, notwithstanding his philosophy, to which he adroitly replied: οὐ γὰρ περὶ ὁμοίας ψυχῆς ἀγωνιῶμεν ἀμϕότεροι, Diog. 71; Gell. xix. 1, 10; Aelian, V. H. ix. 20.
3 Diog, 66: ἦν δὲ ἱκανὸς ἁρμόσασθαι καὶ τόπῳ καὶ χρόνῳ καὶ προσώπῳ, καὶ πᾶσαν περίστασιν ἁπμοδίως ὑποκρίνασθαι: διὸ καὶ παρὰ Διονυσίῳ τῶν ἄλλων εὐδοκίμει μᾶλλον, ἀεὶ τὸ προσπεσὸν εὖ διατιθέμενος. A few instances of this skill have been already seen (p. 362, 3). Here, too, belongs what is told by Galen and Vitruv. (see p. 340), that after having suffered shipwreck, and lost everything, he immediately contrived in Syracuse or Rhodes to procure an ample supply of necessities. Further, it is stated in Plutarch, Dio. 19, that he was the first to notice the growing estrangement between Dionysius and Plato. In Diog. 68, he answers the question, What good he has got from philosophy, by saying: τὸ δύνασθαι πᾶσι θαρρούντως ὁμιλεῖν—and Diog. 79, relates that when brought as a captive before Artaphernes, someone asked him how he liked his situation, to which he replied, that now he was perfectly at rest. Well-known is the answer which he is reported to have given to Diogenes (which, however, is told of others), Diog. vi. 58, ii. 102: εἴπερ ᾔδεις ἀνθρώποις ὁμιλεῖν, οὐκ ἂν λαχάνα ἔπλυνες. Diog. 68; Hor. Ep. i. 17, 13; Valer. Max. iv. 3, Ext. 4.
not only the wit which is never at |364| a loss for repartee, 1 but he possesses also calmness of mind and freedom of spirit, which can forego pleasure without a pang, bear loss with composure, be content with what it hath, and feel happy in any position.
1 See p. 362, 1; 363, 2. In a similar way he could defend his luxuriousness. When blamed for giving fifty drachmae for a partridge, Aristippus asked if he would have given a farthing for it. The reply being in the affirmative; I, said Aristippus, do not care more for fifty drachmae than you do for a farthing. Diog. 66, 75; or with a different turn in Athen. viii. 343, c., where the story is told of him and Plato àpropos of a dish of fish: εἴπερ ᾔδεις ἀνθρώποις ὁμιλεῖν, οὐκ ἂν λάχανα ἔπλυνες. Another time he argues that if good living were wrong, it would not be employed to honour the festivals of the gods. Ibid. 68. Another time, when someone took him to task for his good living, he asked him to dinner. The invitation being accepted, he at once drew the conclusion that he must be too stingy to live well himself. Ibid. 76. When Dionysius offered him the choice between three mistresses, he chose them all, with the gallant observation, that it had been a bad thing for Paris to prefer one of three goddesses, but bade them all farewell at his door. Ibid. 67. When attacked for his relations to Lais, he answered with the well-known ἔχω καὶ οὐκ ἔχομαι. The same relation is said to have given rise to other light jokes; it was all the same to him whether the house in which he lived had been occupied by others before; he did not care whether a fish liked him, if he liked the fish. The Cynicism is betrayed by the anecdotes in Diog. 81, p. 341, 4, although they are not otherwise at variance with Grecian morals.
His maxim is to enjoy the present, leaving care either for the future or the past, and under all circumstances |365| to keep cheerful. 1 Come what may, there is a bright side to things, 2 and he knows how to wear the beggar’s rags and the robe of state with equal grace. 3 Pleasure he loves, but he can also dispense therewith. 4 He will continue master of his desires. 5 His temper shall not be ruffled by any risings of passion. 6 Some importance is attached to riches, but hardly any independent value, 7 and therefore the want of them is never felt. He is lavish of them because he does not cling to them. 8 If necessary, he can do without them, 9
1 See pp. 355 and 360.
2 Hor. Ep. i. 17, 23: omnis Aristippum decuit color et status et res, tentantem majora fere, praesentibus aequum. Pseud-Plut. de Vit. Hom. B., 150: Ἀρίστιππος καὶ μενία καὶ πόνοις συνηνέχθη ἐῤῥωμένως καὶ ἡδονῇ αϕειδῶς ἐχρήσατο. Diog. 66. p. 163, 3; 355, 2.
3 According to Diog. 67, Plato is said to have remarked to him: σοὶ μόνῳ δέδοται καὶ χλανίδα φορεῖν καὶ ῥάκος. The same remark, and not the story of the purple dress, is referred to by Plut. Virt. Alex. 8, p. 330, and Hor. Ep. i. 17, 27, on which passage the Scholiast tells how Aristippus carried off the surcoat of Diogenes from the bath, leaving his purple cloak instead, which Diogenes refused to wear at any price.
4 Diog. 67, p. 363, 4.
5 ἔχω οὐκ ἔχομαι. Diog. 69, tells a saying of the same kind which Aristippus uttered on paying a visit to his mistress, to the effect that there was no need to be ashamed of going there, but there was of not being able to get away.
6 See p. 360, 2 and 3. Plut. N. P. Suav. v. sec. Epic. 4, 5, p. 1089:
οἱ Κυρηναϊκοί...οὐδ᾽ ὁμιλεῖν ἀφροδισίοις οἴονται δεῖν μετὰ φωτὸς ἀλλὰ σκότος προθεμένους, ὅπως μὴ τὰ εἴδωλα τῆς πράξεως ἀναλαμβάνουσα διὰ τῆς ὄψεως ἐναργῶς ἡ διάνοια πολλάκις ἀνακάηται τὴν ὄρεξιν. The same way of thinking is expressed in his definition of pleasure as a gentle motion of the mind. The storms of passion would change this gentle motion into a violent one, and turn pleasure into pain.
7 See p. 347, 1.
8 See p. 363, 4, and the story that he bade his servant who was carrying a heavy burden of gold cast away what was too much for him. Hor. Serm. ii. 3, 99; Diog. 77.
9 Finding himself on board a pirate vessel, he threw his
money into the sea with the words: ἄμεινον ταῦτα δι᾽ Ἀρίστιππον ἢ διὰ ταῦτα Ἀρίστιππον ἀπολέσθαι.. Diog. 77; Cic. Invent. ii. 58, 176; Auson. Idyl. iii. 13; Stob. Floril, 57, 18, taking care to read with Menage and Stein, p. 39, τὸ ἀργύριον for ἀγρὸς.
and is readily consoled for |366| their loss. 1 To him no possession appears more valuable than contentment, 2 no disease worse than avarice. 3 He lives an easy life, but he is not on that account afraid of exertion, and approves of bodily exercise. 4 His life is that of the flatterer, but he often expresses himself with unexpected candour. 5 Freedom he esteems above all things, 6 and hence will neither rule nor be ruled, nor belong to any community, being unwilling to forfeit freedom at any price. 7
1 In Plut. Tranq. An. 8, p. 469, Aristippus having lost an estate, one of his friends expresses sympathy with him, upon which Aristippus replies: Have I not now three estates, whilst you have only one? Ought I not rather to sympathise with you?
2 Hor. see p. 365, 2, Diog; ii. 72: Τὰ ἄριστα ὑπετίθετο τῇ θυγατρὶ Ἀρήτῃ, συνασκῶν αὐτὴν ὑπεροπτικὴν τοῦ πλέονος εἶναι. Hence the same story in Ep. Socrat. 29, the compiler of this late and miserable counterfeit not having used the earlier genuine letters to Aret. mentioned by Suid Arist.
3 See further details in Plut. Cupid. Div. 3, p. 524.
4 See p. 365, 2, Diog. 91: τὴν σωματικὴν ἄσκησιν συμβάλλεσθαι πρὸς ἀρετῆς ἀνάληψιν.
5 Several free expressions of his towards Dionysius are told by Diog, 73, 77; Stob. Floril. 49, 22; conf. Greg. Naz. Carm. ii. 10, 419, vol. ii. 430 Codd.; not to mention the anecdotes in Diog. 75, repeated bid. vi. 32; Galen. Exhort. ad Art. c. 8, i, 18, k.
6 On the principle mentioned by Hor. Ep. i. 1, 18: nuncin Aristippi furtim precepta relabor, et mihi res, non me rebus subjungere conor. According to the context, however, the principle should not be confined to Aristippus’ relations to outward possessions. Here, too, the saying belongs Plut. in Hes. 9, vol. xiv. 296, Hu.: συμβούλου δεῖςθαι χεῖρον εἶναι τοῦ προσαιτεῖν. Conf. p. 363, 3.
7 Xen. Mem. ii. 1, 8. In reply to Socrates, who asked whether he considered himself among the number of those who rule, or those who are ruled, Aristippus states: ἔγωγ᾽ οὐδ ὅλῶς γε τάττω ἐμαυτὸν εἰς τὴν τῶν ἄρχειν βουλομένων τάξιν. For, as is explained here and p. 17, there is no man who is more troubled than a statesman: ἐμαυτόν γε μέντοι τάττω εἰς τοὺς βουλομένους ᾗ ῥᾷστά τε καὶ ἥδιστα βιοτεύειν. When Socrates met this by ob- serving that those who rule are better off than those who are ruled, he rejoined: ἀλλ᾽ ἐγώ τοι οὐδὲ εἰς τὴν δουλείαν ἐμαυτὸν τάττω, ἀλλ᾽ εἶναί τίς μοι δοκεῖ μέση τούτων ὁδός, ἣν πειρῶμαι βαδίζειν, οὔτε δι᾽ ἀρχῆς οὔτε διὰ δουλείας, ἀλλὰ δι᾽ ἐλευθερίας, ἥπερ μάλιστα πρὸς εὐδαιμονίαν ἄγει. And after further objections: ἀλλ᾽ ἐγώ τοι ἵνα μὴ πάσχω ταῦτα, οὐδ᾽ εἰς πολιτείαν ἐμαυτὸν κατακλείω, ἀλλὰ ξένος πανταχοῦ εἰμι. Quite in keeping with this homeless life is the language used by Aristippus, according to Teles in Stob. Floril. 40, 8, vol, ii. 69, Mein., that to him it was of no moment to die in his country; from every country the way to Hades was the same. His address to Dionysius in Stob. Floril. 49, 22, is also quite in harmony with Xenophon’s description: Had you learnt aught from me, you would shake off despotic rule as a disease. Being obliged, however, to live under some form of government, a good one is naturally preferable to a bad one; and accordingly the saying attributed to him in Stob. Floril. 49, 18, touching the difference between a despotic and a monarchical form of government has about it nothing improbable. Nevertheless, at a later period Aristippus may have relaxed his views on civil life to a certain extent. At any rate he formed a connection with a family with which he would previously have nothing to do. Certainly Diog. 81, proves nothing. See p. 341, 4.
|367| Still less did he allow himself to be restrained by religious considerations or traditions. We have at least every reason for asserting this both of Aristippus personally, and of his School. 1 Theodorus was probably the first to gain notoriety for his wanton attacks on the popular faith; 2 still a connection between the Cyrenaic philosophy and the insipid rationalism of Euemerus 3 is far from certain.
1 It was a natural consequence of their scepticism, that they followed Protagoras in his attitude towards religion; and by means of their practical turn that freedom from religious prejudices was decidedly promoted, which they especially required in the wise man. Diog. 91, see p. 360, 2. Clemens, Strom. vii. 722, D., says more generally that they rejected prayer.
2 Particulars of this below.
3 See p. 343, 5.
Nor ought it to be forgotten, that Aristippus strove to make life easy not only for himself, but also for |368| others. Possessed of pleasing and attractive manners, 1 an enemy of vanity and boasting, 2 he could comfort friends with sympathy, 3 and bear injuries with calmness. 4 He could avoid strife, 5 mitigate anger, 6 and conciliate an offended friend. 7 The most extraordinary spectacle to his thinking is said to have been a virtuous man steadily pursuing his course in the midst of the vicious; 8 and that such was really his opinion is shown by his reverence for Socrates. It may therefore be true, 9 that he congratulated himself on having become, thanks to Socrates, a man capable of being praised in all good conscience.
1 ἥδιστος is the name which Greg. Naz. 307, gives him, and ibid. 323, he commends him for τὸ εὐχάριστον τοῦ τροπον καὶ στρωμύλον.
2 See Arist. Rhet. ii. 23; Diog. 71, 73. See also p. 363, 3.
3 Aelian V. H. vii. 3. mentions a letter of sympathy addressed to some friends, who had met with a severe misfortune. He quotes from the introduction the words: ἀλλ᾽ ἔγωγε ἥκω παρ᾽ ὑμᾶς οὐχ ὡς συλλυπούμενος, ἀλλ᾽ ἵνα παύσω ὑμᾶς λυπουμένους. In theory, Aristippus could only estimate the value of friendship by its utility, as Epicurus did at a later time. Diog. 91: τὸν φίλον τῆς χρείας ἕνεκα: καὶ γὰρ μέρος σώματος, μέχρις ἂν παρῇ, ἀσπάζεσθαι. Something similar is also found in Socrates, see pp. 151, 3; 222, 3; and he employs the same argument Xen. Mem. i. 2, 54.
4 Plut. Prof. in Virt. 9, p. 80.
5 Diog. 70; Stob. Floril. 19, 6.
6 Stob. Floril. 20, 63.
7 See the adventure with Aeschines in Plut. Coh. Ira. 14, p. 462, Dtog. 82, which Stob. Flor. 84, 19, probably by mistake, refers to the brother of Aristippus.
8 Stobaeus Florilegium, 37, 25.
9 Which is told by Diog. 71. Few of the anecdotes about Aristippus rest on good authority. Agreeing, however, as they all do, in portraying a certain character, they have been used as the material for a historical sketch. They may be spurious in parts, but on the whole they give a faithful representation of the man.
In a word, with all his love of enjoyment, Aristippus |369| appears to have been a man of high feelings and a cultivated mind, a man knowing how to preserve calmness and freedom of mind in the perpetual change of human affairs, how to govern his passions and inclinations, and how to make the best of all the events of life. The strength of will which can beard destiny, the earnestness of high feelings intent upon great ends, and strictness of principles may not be his; but he is a proficient in the rare art of contentment and moderation, while the pleasing kindness and the cheerful brightness of his manners attract far more than the superficial and effeminate character of his moral views repel. 1 Nor are these traits purely personal; they lie in the very nature of his system, requiring as it does that life should be directed by prudence. Theory and practice cover one another quite as much with Aristippus as with Diogenes, and in the case of each one may be explained by the other.
1 Even Cicero, who is not generally his friend, says (Off. i. 41, 148), that if Socrates or Aristippus placed themselves in antagonism with tradition, they ought not to be imitated therein: magnis illi et divinis bonis hanc licentiam assequebantur; and he also quotes (N. D. iii. 31, 77) a saying of the Stoic Aristo: nocere audientibus philosophos iis, qui bene dicta male interpretarentur: posse enim asotos ex Aristippi, acerbos e aenonis schola exire. The same is attributed to Zeno by Ath. xiii. 566, d, on the authority of Antigonus Carystius: those who misunderstood him, might become vulgar and depraved, καθάπερ οἱ τῆς Ἀριστίππυ παρενεχθέντες αίρεσέως ἄσωτοι καὶ θρασεῖς.
D. Position of Their System to that of Socrates
From Socrates indeed both are far enough removed. His was a theory of a knowledge of conceptions; theirs a most downright subservience to the senses. His was an insatiable thirsting for knowledge, |370| an untiring critical exercise; theirs a total renunciation of knowledge, an indifference to all theoretical enquiries. His was a scrupulous conscientiousness, an unconditional submission to moral requirements, an unceasing toiling of man upon himself and others; theirs was a comfortable theory of life, never going beyond enjoyment, and treating even the means thereto with indifference. On his side were self-denial, abstemiousness, moral strictness, patriotism, piety; on theirs were luxurious indulgence, mischievous versatility, a citizenship of the world needing no country, and a rationalism needing no Gods. Nor yet can it be allowed that Aristippus was only a degenerate pupil of Socrates, or that his teaching had only been touched surface-deep by that of his master. Not only was he classed among followers of Socrates by the unanimous voice of antiquity, which, no doubt, had more immediate reference to his external connection with him; not only did he always call himself a pupil of Socrates and regard his teacher with unchanging devotion 1 —a proof stronger than the former, and showing that he was able to appreciate the greatness of his friend; but his philosophy leaves no doubt that the spirit of his teacher had in him been mightily at work. The intellectual convictions and the intellectual aims of Socrates he did not share; 2
1 See above, p. 337, 5.
2 2 Hermann’s remarks (On Ritter’s Dar. d. Socr. Sys. 26; Gesch. d. Plat. Phil. 263), intended to bring the intellectual teaching of Aristippus into closer connection with that of Socrates, do not appear satisfactory, even when supported by the additional arguments in his Ges. Abh. 233, nor are they regarded as such by Ritter, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 106. Hermann thinks that Aristippus was only lacking in the religious and moral tone of Socrates, but that he steadily adhered to his logical principles. Socrates declared all judgments to be relative, and only conceptions to be universally valid; in the same way, the Cyrenaics denied only the universal validity of judgments, but not that of conceptions; for they allowed that all men receive from the same things the same impressions, as to the names of which they were agreed. These names, however, were identical with the conceptions of Socrates, conceptions having been by them as by the Cynics and Megarians reduced to empty names and deprived of all real substance. There is indeed a noticeable advance in entirely separating conceptions from appearances, and in more precisely defining the highest good as the first judgment universally valid. But in the first place it never occurred to Socrates to deny the universal validity of judgments; and it is as certain that he allowed universally valid judgments as that he allowed universally valid conceptions—such, for instance, as ‘All virtue is knowledge,’ ‘everyone pursues the good’; and if he called some judgments relative—such as, ‘This is good,’—it is no less certain that he declared the corresponding conceptions—for instance, that of the good—to be relative. In the next place it is equally une true to say that the Cyrenaics only denied the universal validity of judgments but not that of conceptions; for they declared most emphatically that all our notions only express our personal feelings. They did not even allow that all feel the same impressions in the same way: unless in this passage we are to understand by impressions, feelings themselves, in which case this language would be as unquestionable as it would be unmeaning; but they maintained that we cannot know whether others have the same feelings as ourselves. And that they practically admitted the common meaning of names the use of which they could not of course deny, is of little account; for they left it an open question, whether common impressions and notions corresponded to these names. It will be seen at once what has become of the advance which Hermann finds in Aristippus. A decided distinction between conceptions and appearances can least of all be attributed to the Cyrenaics, seeing that they know of nothing but appearances; and it will appear, after what has been said, to be equally a mistake to say that ‘Pleasure is the highest good’ is the first judgment universally valid.
Socrates, on the one hand, straining |371| every nerve to attain to knowledge; Aristippus, on the other hand, denying that knowledge was possible; |372| Socrates taking up a new position and a new method of gaining knowledge; Aristippus allowing of no knowledge which does not serve a practical end. 1 Still he was in a great measure indebted to his teacher for that critical skill with which we can readily credit him, 2 and for that unprejudiced sobriety which characterises his whole bearing.
1 We cannot accordingly agree with Brandis, Gr. Röm. Phil. ii. a, 96, who says: Aristippus appears to have held firm to the view that the impulses to action must be found within the sphere of knowledge; and, in investigating what can be known, to have arrived at a conclusion opposite to that of Socrates.
2 See Xen. Mem. ii. 1; iii. 8, and the stories told by Diag. ii. 13; compare Athen. xi. 508, ¢,
on the form of dialogue observed in his writings.
The same may be said of his moral teaching and conduct. How far in this respect he was below Socrates is obvious. Yet in truth he was nearer to him than will be readily believed. On the one hand, Socrates, as we have seen, made utility the ground of moral duties. Might not Aristippus then believe that he was not deviating from Socrates as to the final end in view, if he in some respects held a different opinion from his instructor as to the means to a pleasant life? On the other hand, there was about Aristippus much which is truly Socratic—that composure with which he rises above circumstances, that independence with which he is master of himself and his surroundings, that unbroken cheerfulness which engenders a kindliness of feeling, that quiet assurance which grows out of confidence in the strength of mind. Knowledge is with him the most important element. By culture and prudence he would make |373| men as independent of external circumstances as their nature allows of. Nay, so far does he go in this direction that he not unfrequently trenches on the ground of the Cynics. 1 In reality his School was also internally connected with theirs. Both Schools propose to philosophy the same problem, how to acquire practical culture, 2 rather than theoretical knowledge. Both, therefore, neglect logical and physical enquiries, justifying their procedure by theories, based it is true on different principles, but leading in the end to the same sceptical results. Both in their ethics compass the same aim—the emancipation of man by means of prudence, and the raising him above outward things and events. One thing only makes them opponents—their pursuing this common end by means the most opposite. The Cynic school follows the path of self-denial, the Cyrenaic that of self-indulgence; the Cynic dispenses with the outer world, the Cyrenaic employs it for its own purposes. 3 The object of both Schools being, however, one and the same, their principles come back again to the same point. The Cynics derive the highest pleasure from their self-denial; Aristippus dispenses with property and enjoyment, in order the more thoroughly to appreciate them. 4
1 This relationship appears in the tradition which attributes the same utterances at one time to Aristippus, at another to Diogenes.
2 The standing expression is παιδεία, and what they say in favour of it is much to the same effect. See what has been said, pp. 294 and 360, 4, 5.
3 To make this difference clearer, Wendt (Phil. Cyr. 29) quotes the contradictory statements of Antisthenes and Aristippus in Diog. ii. 68, vi. 6. Antisthenes says that to philosophy he owes τὸ δύνασθαι πᾶσι θαρρούντως ὁμιλεῖν.
4 Hegel, Gesch. d. Phil. ii. 127. See above pp. 308 and 364.
|374| For a similar reason their attitude towards political life and religious traditions is a kindred one. Conscious of his mental superiority, the individual withdraws himself from the external world, needing no country, nor feeling himself fettered by the beliefs of his countrymen; and troubling himself far too little about others to attempt any moulding influence on either the sphere of politics or that of religion. Thus, despite their sharp differences, there is a family likeness between these Schools betraying their common descent from the Socratic philosophy alloyed with Sophistry.
Certainly it must be granted that Aristippus diverged far more from the original ground of the Socratic teaching than did Antisthenes. The utilitarian view of life, which with Socrates was only an auxiliary notion in order to commend to the reflecting mind the practice of morality, was here raised to be a leading thought, the knowledge of Socrates being pressed into its service. Philosophy became with Aristippus, as with the Sophists, a means for furthering the private objects of individuals. Instead of scientific knowledge, only personal culture was pursued and regarded as consisting in knowledge of the world and in the art of enjoyment. The scanty remarks of Aristippus on the origin and truth of our impressions, borrowed for the most part from Protagoras and ultimately leading to a wholly un-Socratic destruction of all knowledge, were only intended as helps to moral doctrines. If not altogether annihilated, the deeper meaning of the Socratic philosophy |375| was here at least subordinated to what with Socrates was a bare outwork, and almost an obstruction to his leading thought. Granting that Aristippus was not a false follower of Socrates, 1 he was certainly a very one-sided follower, or rather he, among all the followers of Socrates, was the one who least entered into his master’s real teaching.
1 As Schleiermacher maintains, Gesch, d. Phil. 87.
Points of resemblance. Side by side with this foreign element, the genuine Socratic teaching cannot be ignored in the Cyrenaic school. In that school there are in fact two elements, the combination of which constitutes its peculiarity. One of these is the doctrine of pleasure as such, the other, the limitation of that doctrine by the Socratic demand for intellectual circumspection—the principle that prudence is the only means for arriving at true pleasure. The former element, taken alone, would lead to the conclusion that sensual enjoyment is the only object in life; the latter, to the strict Socratic doctrine of morals. By uniting both.elements Aristippus arrived at the conviction—which is stamped on all his language, and on which his personal character is a standing comment—that the surest way to happiness is to be found in the art of enjoying the pleasures of the moment with perfect freedom of soul. Whether this is indeed possible, whether the two leading thoughts in his system can be harmonised at all, is a question which it seems never occurred to Aristippus. We can only answer it in the negative. |376| That freedom of soul, that philosophic independence at which Aristippus aimed, can only be secured by soaring above the impressions of the senses and the particular circumstances of life to such an extent that happiness becomes independent of these surroundings and feelings. Conversely, when the enjoyment of the moment is the highest object, happiness can only be felt in proportion as circumstances give occasion to agreeable feelings; all unpleasant impressions being disturbers of happiness. It is impossible to abandon the feelings freely to the enjoyment of what is present, without at the same time being disagreeably affected by what is unpleasant. Abstraction, whereby alone this might be done, is distinctly forbidden; Aristippus requiring the past and the future to be ignored and the present only to be considered. Apart therefore from other defects, this theory suffers from contradiction in its fundamental principles, the injurious effects of which for the whole system could not fail to follow. As a matter of fact they soon appeared in the teaching of Theodorus, Hegesias, and Anniceris; hence the interest which the history of the later Cyrenaics possesses.
E. The Later Cyrenaics
(1) Theodorus. About the same time that Epicurus was giving a new form to the philosophy of pleasure, Theodorus, Hegesias, and Anniceris, within the Cyrenaic School, were advocating views partly agreeing with those of Epicurus, partly going beyond his doctrine of pleasure. Theodorus, on the whole, adhered to the principles of Aristippus, not hesitating, unscrupulous as he was, to push them to their most extreme |377| consequences. 1 The value of an action depending upon its results to the doer, he concluded that any and every action might under circumstances be allowed. If certain things pass for immoral, there is a good reason why this should be so, if the masses are to be kept within bounds: the wise man, tied by no such prejudice, need not, in suitable cases, be afraid of adultery, theft, and sacrilege. If things exist for use, beautiful women and boys are not made only for ornament. 2 Friendship, it seemed to him, may be dispensed with; for the wise man is self-sufficing and needs no friends, and the fgol can make no sensible use of them. 3 Devotion to one’s country he considered ridiculous; for the wise man is a citizen of the world, and will not sacrifice himself and his wisdom to benefit fools. 4
1 θρασύτατος is the term used of him by Diog. ii. 116; and this epithet is fully justified by a passage like that, vi. 97.
2 Diog. ii. 99. That Theodorus said this and similar things, cannot be doubted after the definite and explicit testimony of Diogenes. It is true that, in Plut. Tranq. Anim. 5, p. 567, Theodorus complains that his pupils misunderstood
him—a statement which, if it be true, probably refers to the practical application of his principles. He may have led a more moral life than Bio (Diog. iv. 53; Clemens, Paedag. 15, A), and yet have expressed the logical consequences of the Cyrenaic teaching. But it is undoubtedly an exaggeration to charge him, as Epiphanius (Expos. Fid. 1089, A) does, with inciting to theft, perjury, and robbery.
3 Diog. 98, and Epiphanius, l. c. in still stronger terms: “Theodorus considered joy and grief to be the supreme good and evil, the one brought about by wisdom, the other by folly. Wisdom and justice he called goods, and their opposites evils, pleasure and pain being intermediate to good and evil.” This statement, likewise, seems to be rather in the nature of a hasty conclusion, for Theodorus makes happiness depend on intelligence, and not on things without.
4 Diog. 98, Epiph. l. c.
The views of his School respecting the Gods and religion were also expressed |378| without reserve; 1 Bio 2 and Euemerus 3 herein following his example.
1 The atheism of Theodorus, which, besides bringing down on him an indictment at Athens, gained for him the standing epithet ἄθεος (he was called θεός according to Diog. ii. 86, 100, in allusion to a joke of Stilpo’s, but probably κατ’ ἀντιπασιν), will be frequently mentioned. In Diog. 97 he says: ἦν...παντάπασιν ἀναιρῶν τὰς περὶ θεῶν δόξας: καὶ αὐτοῦ περιετύχομεν βιβλίῳ ἐπιγεγραμμένῳ Περὶ θεῶν, οὐκ εὐκαταφρονήτῳ: ἐξ οὗ φασιν Ἐπίκουρον λαβόντα τὰ πλεῖστα εἰπεῖν. {[Theodorus] he...utterly rejected the current belief in the gods. And I have come across a book of his entitled Of the Gods which is not contemptible. From that book, they say, Epicurus borrowed most of what he wrote on the subject.} The last statement can only apply to the criticism of belief in the Gods generally, for Epicurus’ peculiar views about them were certainly not shared by Theodorus. Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 218; Math. ix. 51, 55, mentions him among those who deny the existence of the Gods, with the addition: 3: διὰ τοῦ περὶ θεῶν συντάγματος τὰ παρὰ τοῖς Ἕλλησι θεολογούμενα ποίκιλως ὰνασκευάσας D. i. 1, 2) says: nullos [Deos] esse omnino Diagoras Melius et Theodorus Cyrenaicus putaverunt. Ibid. 23, 63: Nonne aperte Deorum naturam sustulerunt? Ibid. 42, 117: Omnino Deos esse negabant, a statement which Minuc. Fel. Oct. 8, 2, and Lact. Ira Dei, 9, probably repeat after him. Likewise Plut. Comm. Not. 31, 4, p. 1075, says: Even Theodorus and those who shared his views did not declare God to be corruptible, ἀλλʹ οὐκ ἐπίστευσαν ὡς ἔστιτιἄϕθαρτον, Epiph. (Expos. Fid. Cic. (N. 1089, A) also asserts that he denied the existence of a God. In the face of these agreeing testimonies, the assertion of Clemens (Paedag. 15, A), that Theodorus and others had wrongly been called atheists, and that they only denied the popular Gods, their lives being otherwise good, can be of little weight. Theodorus no doubt denied the Gods of the people in the first place, but it was not his intention to distinguish between them and the true God. The anecdotes in Diog. ii. 101, 116, give the impression of insincerity.
2 Diog. iv. 54: πολλὰ δὲ καὶ ἀθεώτερον προεφέρετο τοῖς ὁμιλοῦσι, τοῦτο Θεοδώρειον ἀπολαύσας, but in his last illness he was overcome with remorse, and had recourse to enchantments. The argument quoted by Sen. Benef. vii. 7, 1, to prove that every one and that no one commits sacrilege is more a rhetorical and intellectual work of skill.
3 The view of Euemerus respecting the Gods is briefly as follows: There are two kinds of Gods—heavenly and incorruptible beings, who are honoured by men as Gods, such as the sun, the stars, the winds; and dead men, who were raised to the rank of Gods for their benefits to mankind. Diodorus in Eus. Pr. Ev. ii. 2, 62. To the latter class of beings Euemerus referred the whole of Mythology, and supposed it to be a history of princes and princesses, Uranus, Cronus, Zeus, Rhea, etc. For further particulars respecting this rationalising history of the Gods, consult Steinhart, Allg. Encyclo. Art. Euhemerus, V. Sieroka, De Euhemero.
For all that, the theory of |379| Aristippus did not altogether satisfy him. He was fain to admit that pleasure and pain do not merely depend on ourselves and our inner state, but also in @ great measure on external circumstances; and he therefore sought such a definition of the highest good as should secure happiness to the wise man, and make that happiness dependent on his prudence. 1 This result, he thought, would be reached if happiness were made to consist, not in individual pleasures, but in a cheerful state of mind—and conversely evil, not in individual feelings.of pain, but in an unhappy tone of mind; for feelings being the effects of impressions from without, states of mind are in our own power. 2 Accordingly, Theodorus asserted that in themselves pleasure and pain are neither good nor bad; goodness consists in cheerfulness, evil in sadness; the former proceeds. from prudence, the latter from folly;
1 These reasons are not mentioned in so many words, but they follow from Theodorus’ positions about the highest good, and also from the stress which, according to Diog. 98, he laid on the αὐτάρκεια of the wise man, and the difference he made between wisdom and folly.
2 Probably what Cic. (Tusc. iii. 13, 28; 14, 31) quotes as Cyrenaic doctrine belongs to Theodorus: that not every evil engenders sorrow, but only unforeseen evils, that many precautions can be taken to prevent sorrow by familiarising ourselves with the thought of future evils. What control of outward impressions he considered possible by prudence, appears also from the explanatory remarks in Stob. Floril. 119, 16; the wise man has never sufficient reason to put an end to his own life, and it is inconsistent to call vile the only evil, and then to put an end to life to avoid the sufferings of life.
therefore pursue prudence and justice, eschew |380| ignorance and wrong-doing. 1 Occasionally he himself displayed a fearlessness and an indifference to life 2 which would have done honour to a Cynic. Not that the theory of pleasure was therewith surrendered, but the older setting of that theory was changed. In place of individual pleasures, a state of mind was substituted, independent of the mere feelings of enjoyment and pleasure. Instead of a cheerful resignation to the impressions of the moment, the highest good was made to consist in rising superior to circumstances.
(2) Hegesius. Hegesias went a step further. He, too, adheres to the general maxims of Aristippus. With him good is identical with pleasure, evil with unhappiness: all that we do, we do only for ourselves; if services are rendered to others, it is only because advantages are expected in return. 3
1 Diog. 98: τέλος δ᾽ ὑπελάμβανε χαρὰν καὶ λύπην: τὴν μὲν ἐπὶ φρονήσει, τὴν δ᾽ ἐπὶ ἀφροσύνῃ: ἀγαθὰ δὲ φρόνησιν καὶ δικαιοσύνην, κακὰ δὲ τὰς ἐναντίας ἕξεις, μέσα δὲ ἡδονὴν καὶ πόνον. {He considered joy and grief to be the supreme good and evil, the one brought about by wisdom, the other by folly. Wisdom and justice he called goods, and their opposites evils, pleasure and pain being intermediate to good and evil.} That justice should be reckoned among good things may be brought into agreement with what is quoted p. 266, 3. It is to be recommended, because it protects us from the unpleasant consequences of forbidden actions, and from the disquiet which the prospect of these consequences produces, although such actions are not in themselves inadmissible.
2 When at the court of Lysimachus, he so enraged the latter by his frankness (Diog. 102; Plut. Exil. 16; Philo, Qu. Omn. Pr. Tib. p. 606, 884, C.) that Lysimachus threatened to crucify him, upon which Theodorus uttered the celebrated saying, that it was indifferent to him whether he went to corruption in the earth or in the air. Cic. Tusc. i. 43, 102; Valer. Max. vi. 2, 3; Plut. An. Vitios. 3, p. 499; Stob. Floril. 2, 23, attribute another saying to him on the same occasion, attributing to Anaxarchus the above passage in Stob. Floril. 2, 23.
3 Diog. ii. 93: Οἱ δὲ Ἡγησιακοὶ λεγόμενοι σκοποὺς μὲν εἶχον τοὺς αὐτούς, ἡδονὴν καὶ πόνον. μήτε δὲ χάριν τι εἶναι μήτε φιλίαν μήτε εὐεργεσίαν, διὰ τὸ μὴ δι᾽ αὐτὰ ταῦτα αἱρεῖσθαι ἡμᾶς αὐτά, ἀλλὰ διὰ τὰς χρείας αὐτάς [probably αὐτῶν], ὧν ἀπόντων μηδ᾽ ἐκεῖνα ὑμάρχειν. Exp. Fid. 1089, B, says the same, but less accurately.
But on looking |381| round to discover wherein true pleasure is to be found, Hegesias met with no very consoling answer. Our life, he says, is full of trouble; the numerous sufferings of the body affect the soul also, disturbing its peace; fortune in numberless ways crosses our wishes; man cannot reckon upon a satisfactory state of mind, in a word, upon happiness. 1 Even the practical wisdom, upon which Aristippus relied, affords to his mind no security; for perceptions, according to the old Cyrenaic maxim, not showing us things as they are in themselves, if we are always obliged to act according to probabilities, who can be sure that our calculations will come true? 2 And if happiness cannot be had, it is surely foolish to try for it; enough if we can but fortify ourselves against the sufferings of life; freedom from pain, not pleasure, is our goal. 3
1 Diog. 94: τὴν εὐδαιμονίαν ὅλως ἀδύνατον εἶναι: τὸ μὲν γὰρ σῶμα πολλῶν ἀναπεπλῆσθαι παθημάτων, τὴν δὲ ψυχὴν συμπαθεῖν τῷ σώματι καὶ ταράττεσθαι, τὴν δὲ τύχην πολλὰ τῶν κατ᾽ ἐλπίδα κωλύειν, ὥστε διὰ ταῦτα ἀνύπαρκτον τὴν εὐδαιμονίαν εἶναι. See p. 343, 1.
2 Diog. 95: ἀνῄρουν δὲ καὶ τὰς αἰσθήσεις οὐκ ἀκριβούσας τὴν ἐπίγνωσιν, τῶν τ᾽ εὐλόγως φαινομένων πάντα πράττειν. We insert this sentence in the connection of the doctrine of Hegesias, where it most probably belongs, without, however, unconditionally guaranteeing for it this relation.
3 Diog. 95: τόν τε σοφὸν οὐχ οὕτω πλεονάσειν ἐν τῇ τῶν ἀγαθῶν αἱρέσει, ὡς ἐν τῇ τῶν κακῶν φυγῇ, τέλος τιθέμενον τὸ μὴ ἐπιπόνως ζῆν μηδὲ λυπηρῶς: ὃ δὴ περιγίνεσθαι τοῖς ἀδιαφορήσασι περὶ τὰ ποιητικὰ τῆς ἡδονῆς.
Yet how may this goal be reached in a world where so much trouble and pain falls to our |382| lot? Clearly not at all as long as peace of mind depends upon external things and circumstances; contentment is only then sure, when we are indifferent to everything which produces pleasure or pain. 1 These, as Hegesias observes, depend ultimately, not upon things, but upon our attitude towards things; in itself nothing is pleasant or unpleasant, but makes a varied impression, according to our tone and condition. 2 Neither riches nor poverty affect the happiness of life; the rich not being happier than the poor. Neither freedom, nor slavery, high nor low rank, honour nor dishonour, are conditions of the amount of pleasure we receive. Indeed, life only appears a good thing to a fool; to the wise man it is indifferent. 3 No Stoic or Cynic could more sternly denounce the value of external things than the pupil of Aristippus here dees. With these principles is connected the noble and thoroughly Socratic maxim that faults do not call for anger, nor human beings for hatred, but only for instruction, since no one intentionally does what is wrong; 4 desiring what is pleasant, everyone desires what is good; and as the wise man does not allow his peace of mind to depend on things external, neither does he allow it to be ruffled by the faults of others.
1 See preceding note.
2 Diog. 94: φύσει τ᾽ οὐδὲν ἡδὺ ἢ ἀηδὲς ὑπελάμβανον: διὰ δὲ σπάνιν ἢ ξενισμὸν ἢ κόρον τοὺς μὲν ἥδεσθαι, τοὺς δ᾽ ἀηδῶς ἔχειν.
3 Ibid, 95: καὶ τῷ μὲν ἄφρονι τὸ ζῆν λυσιτελὲς εἶναι: τῷ δὲ φρονίμῳ ἀδιάφορον, which probably only bears the sense given in the text. Similarly Epiphanius, l. c.; conf. p. 343, 1.
4 Ibid.: ἔλεγον τὰ ἁμαρτήματα συγγνώμης τυγχάνειν: οὐ γὰρ ἑκόντα ἁμαρτάνειν, ἀλλά τινι πάθει κατηναγκασμένον. καὶ μὴ μισήσειν, μᾶλλον δὲ μεταδιδάξειν.
|383| In the theory of Hegesias it is seen more decidedly even than in that of Theodorus, that the doctrine of pleasure is unsatisfactory. It is even expressly admitted that human life has about it more of sorrow than joy, and hence a perfect indifference to things outward is insisted upon. But what right has Hegesias to identify pleasure with the good, and pain with evil? After all, the good is that which is the condition of our well-being; if this be indifference rather than pleasure, indifference and not pleasure is the good; the doctrine of pleasure has come round to its opposite—the Cynic independence of everything external. Not that the Cyrenaic school could avow this as its general principle without surrendering its own position; still it is distinctly avowed within that school that pleasure is not in all cases the highest motive.
(3) Anniceris. Anniceris indeed maintained that the aim of every action is the pleasure resulting therefrom; and, like the older Cyrenaics, he would not hear of a general aim of life, nor substitute freedom from pain in the place of pleasure. 1
1 Clemens, Strom. ii. 417, B: Those called Annicereans, of the Cyrenaic succession, laid down no definite end for the whole of life; but said that to each action belonged, as its proper end, the pleasure accruing from the action. These Cyrenaics reject Epicurus’ definition of pleasure, that is the removal of pain, calling that the condition of a dead man; because we rejoice not only on account of pleasures, but companionships and distinctions; while Epicurus thinks that all joy of the soul arises from previous sensations of the flesh. See p. 354, 1. This would justify the inaccurate statement in Diog. ii. 96: Οἱ δ᾽ Ἀννικέρειοι τὰ μὲν ἄλλα κατὰ ταὐτὰ τούτοις—the School of Hegesias—and also the assertion (Suid. Annic.) that Anniceris, although living, according to Suidas, in the time of Alexander, was an Epicurean. Cicero and Diogenes likewise affirm that his School declared pleasure to be the good.
He observed too that by pleasure only our own pleasure can be understood; for of the feelings of others, according to the old |384| teaching of his School, we can know nothing. 1 Yet pleasure is not only caused by enjoyments of the senses, but by intercourse with other men and by honourable pursuits. 2 Hence, Anniceris allowed to friendship, gratitude, family affection, and patriotism an independent value, quite apart from the benefit resulting from these relations. He even went so far as to say that the wise man would make sacrifices for them, nor would his happiness suffer from his so doing, even if there remained to him but little actual enjoyment. 3 This admission brought him round to the ordinary view of life, to which he approximated still further by attaching less value to prudence, the second element in the Cyrenaic doctrine of morals, than Aristippus had done. In fact, he denied that prudence alone is sufficient to make us safe and to raise us above the prejudices of the masses; there must be practice as well, to overcome the effect of perverse use. 4
1 Diog. 96: τήν τε τοῦ φίλου εὐδαιμονίαν δι᾽ αὑτὴν μὴ εἶναι αἱρετήν: μηδὲ γὰρ αἰσθητὴν τῷ πέλας ὑπάρχειν. See p. 350, 1.
2 Clemens, l. c. continues: χαίρειν γὰρ ἡμᾶς μὴ μόνον ἐπὶ ἡδοναῖς, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐπὶὁμιλίαις καὶ ἐπὶ ϕιλοτιμίαις. Comp. Cic. Off. iii. 33, 116. See p. 347, 2. The expression in Clement, τὴν ἐκ τῆς πράξεως περιγινομένην ἡδονὴν, probably refers not only to the pleasure resulting from an action, but to the pleasure immediately bound up therewith.
3 Diog. 96: ἀπέλιπον δὲ καὶ φιλίαν ἐν βίῳ καὶ χάριν καὶ πρὸς γονέας τιμὴν καὶ ὑπὲρ πατρίδος τι πράξειν. ὅθεν διὰ ταῦτα, κἂν ὀχλήσεις ἀναδέξηται ὁ σοφός, οὐδὲν ἧττον εὐδαιμονήσειν, κἂν ὀλίγα ἡδέα περιγένηται αὐτῷ. τήν τε τοῦ φίλου εὐδαιμονίαν δι᾽ αὑτὴν μὴ εἶναι αἱρετήν: μηδὲ γὰρ αἰσθητὴν τῷ πέλας ὑπάρχειν: μὴ εἶναί τε αὐτάρκη τὸν λόγον πρὸς τὸ θαρρῆσαι καὶ τῆς τῶν πολλῶν δόξης ὑπεράνω γενέσθαι: δεῖν δ᾽ ἀνεθίζεσθαι διὰ τὴν ἐκ πολλοῦ συντραφεῖσαν ἡμῖν φαύλην διάθεσιν. Ibid. 97: τόν τε φίλον μὴ διὰ τὰς χρείας μόνον ἀποδέχεσθαι, ὧν ὑπολειπουσῶνμὴ ἐπιστρέφεσθαιἀλλὰ καὶ παρὰτὴνγεγονυῖαν εὔνοιαν, ἧς ἔνεκα καὶ πόνους ὑπομενεῖν. καίτοι τιθέμενον ἡδονὴν τέλος καὶ ἀχθόμενον ἐπὶ τῷ στέρεσθαι αὐτῆς ὅμως ἑκουσίως ὑπομενεῖν διὰ τὴν πρὸς τὸν φίλον στοργήν.
4 Ibid. 96: μὴ εἶναι αἱρετήν: μηδὲ γὰρ αἰσθητὴν τῷ πέλας ὑπάρχειν: μὴ εἶναί τε αὐτάρκη τὸν λόγον πρὸς τὸ θαρρῆσαι καὶ τῆς τῶν πολλῶν δόξης ὑπεράνω γενέσθαι: δεῖν δ᾽ ἀνεθίζεσθαι διὰ τὴν ἐκ πολλοῦ συντραφεῖσαν ἡμῖν φαύλην διάθεσιν.
|385| Thus the Cyrenaic doctrine is seen gradually to vanish away. Aristippus declared that pleasure was the only good, understanding by pleasure actual enjoyment, and not mere freedom from pain; and, moreover, making the pleasure of the moment, and not the state of man as a whole, to be the aim of all action. One after another these limitations were abandoned. Theodorus denied the last one, Hegesias the second, and even the first was assailed by Anniceris. It thus appears how impossible it is to combine the Socratic demand for prudence and independence of the external world, with the leading thought of the theory of pleasure. The Socratic element disintegrates that theory and brings it round to its opposite. The process, however, taking place without intellectual consciousness, no new principle results therefrom. Oddly enough the very men in whom this result is most apparent, in other respects clung to the doctrines of Aristippus with the greatest pertinacity.
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|386|Chapter XV. Retrospect
A Inconsistencies of the Imperfect Socratic Schools
Inconsistencies appear to have been common to all the Socratic Schools. It was, without doubt, an inconsistency on the part of the Megarians to confine knowledge to conceptions, and at the same time to do away with all possibility of development and with anything like multiplicity or definiteness in conceptions; to declare that being is the good, and, at the same time, by denying variety and motion to being, to deprive it of that creative power which alone can justify such a position; to begin with the Socratic wisdom, and to end in unmeaning hair-splitting. It was an inconsistency on the part of Antisthenes to endeavour to build all human life on a foundation of knowledge, whilst at the same time destroying all knowledge by his statements touching the meaning and connection of conceptions. It was no small inconsistency both in himself and his followers to aim at a perfect independence of the outer world, and yet to attribute an exaggerated value to the externals of the Cynic mode of life; to declare war against pleasure and selfishness, and at the same time to pronounce the wise man free from the most sacred moral duties; to renounce all enjoyments, and yet |387| to revel in the enjoyment of a moral self-exaltation. In these inconsistencies and in their unintentional contradictions appears the unsatisfactory nature of the principles from which all these Schools started. It is seen how far they were removed from the perfect moderation, from the ready susceptibility of mind, from the living versatility of Socrates, all clinging to particular sides of his personal character, but unable to comprehend it as a whole.
B. These Schools More Closely Related to Socrates Than to the Sophists
The same fact will also, no doubt, explain that tendency to Sophistry which is so striking in these philosophers. The captious reasoning of the Megarians, the indifference of the Cynics to all speculative knowledge, and their contempt for the whole theory of conceptions, no less than the doctrines of Aristippus relative to knowledge and pleasure, savour more of the Sophists than of Socrates. Yet all these schools professed to follow Socrates, nor was there one of them which did not place some element of the Socratic philosophy at the head of its system. It is therefore hardly correct for modern writers to find nothing but sophistical views in their teaching, supplemented and corrected by what is Socratic, and, instead of deducing their differences from the many-sidedness of Socrates, to refer them to the diversities of the Sophists converging from many sides towards the Socratic philosophy as a centre. 1
1 K. F. Hermann, Ges. Abh. 228, who, amongst other things there says that the agreement in matter between these schools and the Socratic teaching ought to be regarded as a corrective, *modifying more or less strongly their fundamental views derived from the Sophists; they are the pioneers of advancing sophistry, endeavouring: to act as an equipoise to Socratic teaching, etc. Yet this remark agrees ill with those steps in advance of Socrates which Hermann thinks to discern in many sophistical assertions of Antisthenes and Aristippus (see pp. 296, 1; 370, 2), and with the proof of the difference in principle between the Eristic of the Sophists and that of Megara. (Ges. Abh. 260, f.) Far more correct and more in keeping with our view was that expressed by Hermann at an earlier time. (Plat. 257.)
With decided |388| admirers of Socrates, such as Antisthenes and Euclid, there can be not even a shadow of support for this view. Such men conscientiously aiming at a faithful reproduction of the life and teaching of Socrates, must have been conscious that to him they were first indebted for an intellectual centre, and that from him they had first received the living germ of a true philosophy;—indeed this may be clearly observed in their philosophy. In their case it is wrong to speak of the ennobling influence of Socrates on sophistical principles; we ought rather to speak of the influence of sophistry on their treatment of the teaching of Socrates. Socrates, as it were, gave the substance of the teaching, sophistry being only a narrower limitation of it; for this reason a School like that of the Stoics was able in the end to connect itself with that of the Cynics.
With Aristippus the case is somewhat different. Yet even in respect of him it has been already established, not: only that he professed to be a follower of Socrates, but that he really was one, although he penetrated less than others into the deeper meaning of the founder’s teaching, and showed the influence of sophistical views most plainly. If then, |389| besides lower capacities, previous sophistical training may be the cause which prevented the founders of a the imperfect Schools from entering so deeply or fully into the spirit of their master as Plato did, it should also be remembered that Socrates himself gave occasion to this variety in the Schools which were connected with him. On the one hand, his personal character afforded so rich a field as to invite investigation in the most opposite directions; on the other hand, the scientific form of his philosophy was imperfect and so unsystematic, that it gave scope for many diverging modes of treatment. 1
1 Cic. de Orat. iii. 16, 61, observes with some justice, but somewhat superficially: Cum essent plures orti fere a Socrate, quod ex illius variis et diversis et in omnem partem diffusis disputationibus alius aliud apprehenderat, proseminatz sunt quasi familis dissentientes inter se, etc. For instance, Plato and Antisthenes, qui patientiam et duritiam in Socratico sermone maxime adamarat, and also Aristippus, quem illac magis voluptariz disputationes delectarant.
C. Importance of These Schools
This disintegration of the Socratic Schools is accordingly not without importance for the further progress of philosophy. Bringing out the separate elements which were united in Socrates, and connecting them with the corresponding elements in the pre- Socratic philosophy, it held them up for more careful observation. The problems were set for all subsequent thinkers to discuss. The logical and ethical consequences of the Socratic maxims were brought to light. On the other hand, it was seen what the separation of the various elements in the teaching of Socrates, and their combination with other theories, would lead to, unless these theories were |390| first recast after the mind of Socrates. In this way the one-sidedness of the smaller Socratic schools was indirectly instrumental in enforcing the demand for a comprehensive treatment which should connect: the different aspects of the Socratic philosophy more closely with each other and with earlier systems, and decide the importance of each one relatively to the rest. In both ways these Schools influenced Plato and Aristotle, Euclid supplying to Plato the basis: for his theory of ideas, Antisthenes and Aristippus the groundwork for his theory of the highest good.
Of greater importance is the fact that those followers of Socrates prepared the way for the course taken by philosophy after the time of Aristotle. True as it is that the post-Aristotelian systems are not immediately connected with the imperfect Socratic Schools, and that those systems would have been impossible without Plato and Aristotle; still it must not be forgotten that these thinkers are also deeply indebted to the Socratic Schools. The predominance of practical over intellectual interests which the post-Aristotelian philosophy displays; the moral contentment with which the wise man, withdrawing from everything external, falls back upon the consciousness of his freedom and virtue; the citizenship of the world which can dispense with a country and political interest—all these peculiarities of later times are foreshadowed in the lesser Socratic Schools. The Stog adopted the moral principles of the Cynics almost in their entirety, only softening them down and expanding them in application. |391| The same School looks for its logic chiefly to the Megarians besides Aristotle. From the School of Megara too the scepticism of Pyrrho and the Academy branched off, albeit in a somewhat different direction. The teaching of Aristippus reappears in Epicurus, only changed in some details. In short, tendencies, which at an earlier period could only secure a qualified recognition, obtained the upper hand when strengthened, recast, and supplemented by other elements.
Yet even this was not possible until the intellectual strength of Greece had abated, and her political condition had become so far hopeless as to favour the view that indifference to everything external could alone lead to peace of mind. Previously the intellectual sense had been too quick, and the Greek spirit too keen, to allow the hard-won results of the Socratic philosophy to be thus frittered away. That philosophy according to its deeper bearings must needs issue in a science of conceptions such as was set forth by Plato and Aristotle.
Only by separating the various but inwardly connected elements of the Socratic teaching, only by confounding the form in which Socrates clothed his teaching with that teaching itself, and mistaking defects in manner for defects in matter, could philosophy be limited to metaphysics so abstract and a criticism so empty as the Megarian, to morals so unintellectual and absolutely negative as those of the Cynics; or could the doctrine of Aristippus pass for truly Socratic. Whilst therefore these Schools |392| are not without importance for the progress of Greek philosophy, their intellectual productions cannot be valued very highly. A truer understanding and a more comprehensive treatment of the Socratic philosophy, was the work of Plato.
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