^ %a3AiNn3Wv* ^lOSANCElfj^ .o %a3AiNn-3# ^^lUBRARYQr ^^UBRARYQr ^^ojiwa-jo^' "^^jojiwDio't^ f ^OF-CALIFOff/i^ ^OF CAlIfO/?^, >&Aava9n#" xOAHvaan-^ :^ ^UIBRARY^/^ ^^lllBRARYOr, -^MEUNIVERS/A ^ .^lOSANCElfj^ > if ^OFCAllFOftij^ '^j IV / >«* m s ^ ^ ■ril30NVS01^ ^lOSANCElfj> *%a3AINn-3WV>' ^llIBRARYQc. <5>^UlBRARYac '^•tfOJlWDJO^ "^il/OJnVDJO^' o ,\V\EUNIVERS'/A .^lOSANCElfjV^ %aaAiNfi-3# ^OFCAlIFOff^^ ^OFCAUFOft^ ^OA«VMIl-# ^ILIBRARYGc^ ^IIIBRARY^/^ ^\WE.UNIVER% .^lOSANGElfj> 5^ 5 ;ui7i ijuiii i!:^i i(rtt 9 iaii 'j# ^^CAbvaan'# "^j^udnvsoi^ ■%a3AiNfl-3ftV^ -< IVERS"//) ^VlOSANCElfj;^ ■^/ja3AlNa-3WV^ ^llIBRARYQr. -^lllBRARYGc^ 1^ M 4 A"^ ^£. AWEUNIVERS/a '^^OJITVJ-JO't^ %0JnV3-JO>' ^OFCAIIFO% "^Saana^ ^OFCAllFO/?;]^ ^WE•UNIVER5'/A - ~ o ^IUBRARY '^OJIWDJO^ aiFO/?^ ^OfCAllF0% A'rtEUNIVERJ'/A g o ^ _ _ DO > '^/ja3AiNn3Wv ^lUBRARY^/^ ^^03I1VOJO>^ ^lUBRARYQ^ ^tfOJUVDJO"^ ^ ^WEHNIVtR.'' CO =3 DIVERS//- rjL ^lOSANCElfjj^ ,-;,OFCAlIF0/?^ ^OFCAUFO/^i^ %nvagn-^s^ "^^Aavaaniv^ ^WE•UNIVER5//) %13DNVS01^ IRARYQc. Ill I -o^llIBRARYQr^ AWEDNIVERi"/;^ ,>- on pel '^^a— k )y \ ^lOSANCElfj^ dr CO <\IIIBRARYQ^ THE HISTORY OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. VOLUME THE FOURTH. THE HISTORY OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. By dr. HEINRICH RITTER. TRANSLATED FROAl THE GERMAN, BY ALEXANDER J. W. MORRISON, B.A., TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMURIDGE. IN FOUR VOLUMES. VOL. IV. .', ..» LONDON: FmNin' (;. i'.oiin, york sTiuiivr, covent garden. M.DCCC.XLVI. 10533.'] LONDON: J. HADUON, PBINTKK, CASTLE SIREKT, FINSBURY. C • ■ C ft • » . • , •. . ". 1 1 . • • • * • • . • •• • • ' yj V. 4- CONTENTS TO THE FOURTH VOLUME. BOOK XII. ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY : THIRD PERIOD. HISTORY OF THE DECLINE OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. PART I. SEPARATE AND DIVERSE TENDENCIES IN THE DIFFU- SION OF GRECIAN PHILOSOPHY AMONG THE R05IANS AND ORIENTALS. CHAP. I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS UPON THE WHOLE PERIOD, p. 1—74. General remarks on this period; Literature of' these times; Roman Literature, 2 — Grecian Literature again in the ascendancy, 12 — Oriental influence, 17 — Decay of tlic olden civilization and new interests, 21 — Christianity in relation to the olden national charac- ter, 25 — Formation of new nations, 20— Relation of the development of this period to philosophy, 27 — Principles of division of our history of this period, 29 — Erudition in philosophy, 31 — Predilection for the ancient, .3-1 — ?>clfcticism, .35 — Gneco-Oriental ])liilosopliy, .38 — Reduction of all philosopliy to an ohlen revelation, ■10 — Theory of emanation, 4.3 — Contempt of practical life and science, 46 — Internal contemplation, 48 — Recurrence to the olden relirrions, .50 — Com- plete ascendancy of the Gra;co-Oriental phil()soi)hy, 51 — Division, 62 — Arran^'cnient r>f the several parts, 53 — Indian pliilosopliy, 59 — External circumstances of the history of philosophy in this period, 04 — Athens, 05^Rome, 07 — Alexandria, 09 — Revival of tlio philo- sophical schools at Athens, 72. n .3 VI CONTENTS. SECTION 1. GREEK AND ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. CHAP. II. THE FIRST COMMENCEMENT OF PHILOSOPHY AMONG THE ROMANS, 75—162. First acquaintance with Grecian philosophy, 75 — Specially the Stoical, Epicurean schools, and the New Academy, find adherents, 77 — ■ Academicians, 78— Stoics, 79— Epicureans, 81 — Beginning of philo- sophical writing among the Romans, 82, Epicurean philosophy among the Romans, 83 Lucretius, 84 — his object; enhghtenment, 85 — Influence of his poetical style on the Epicurean doctrine, 89 — Regularity of natural phenomena, 91 — The developments of nature pursue an end, 93 — Differences of human temperaments, 94 — Total diversity of every atom, 95 — Ethical doc- trines of the Roman Epicureans, 95 — Intellectual pleasure, unselfish friendship, 97 — Praise of wedlock, 98. Cicero. Character, 99 — Course of his philosophical studies, 101 — Taste for philosophy, 103 — Dependence of his philosophy on his political pursuits, 104 — Moderate Scepticism, 107 — Imitation of the Greeks, 108 — Partiality for the New Academj', 111 — Popular cha- racter of his philosophy, 112 — Pursuit of scientific form, 113 — Prac- tical tendency, 115 — Practical philosophy connected and in unison with the other parts of philosophy, 116 — Science valuable in and for itself, 118 — The practical more immediately concerns man, 119 — Uncertainty of the sciences, but especially of physiology, 120 — Greater certainty of ethics : opposition to the Epicureans, 123 — To follow nature : vacillation between the Peripatetic and Stoical doctrine, 124 — Inclination for- the Peripatetic view, 126 — Logic: of the criteria of truth ; the understanding, 127 — the senses, 129 — Probability of the sensuous impressions, 131 — Physics : its subhmity. God and providence, 132 — Contrariety of God and nature, 133— Idea of God, 134 — Materialism, 139— Cicero's position relatively to the popular religion, 140 — Doctrine of the soul, 141 — Freedom of the will, 14.3 — Ethics: arguments against the Epicureans, 146— Against the Stoics, 146 — Approximation to the Peripatetic doctrine, 148 — On the Peripatetic notion of virtue, 148 — The honourable, 151 — The becoming, 151 — The morals of the man of the world, 153 — Consideration of the idiosyncracy and peculiar position of the indi- vidual, 154— The state and the laws, 156 — Sources of Cicero's CONTENTS. VU system, 157 — Commendation of a mixed government, 158 — Defence of the Roman Conquests and of slavery, 159 — Justification of poli- tical deception of the people, 160 — Influence of Cicero in the his- tory of philosophy, 160. CHAP. III. PRACTICAL DIRECTION : NEW CYNICS AND STOICS, p. 163—227. Sextus. Complaints of the growing effeminacy and passionateness, 163— Sotion,166. C^Tiics, 166 — Demetrius, 167 — A simple rule of life, 168 — Demonaxj 169 — Practical Eclecticism. Irreligious tendency, 170 — CEnomaus. On superstition. Freedom of the soul, 170 — Extravagances of the Cynics. Mysticism. Peregrinus Proteus, 172. Stoics. Seneca, 174 — Rhetorical exaggerations, 175 — Relation of the several parts of philosophy to each other, 178 — Rejection of logic, 179 — Physics transcends human capacity, 180 — Display of erudition, 181 — Hortatory tendency of his moral doctrines, 183 — Moderation in its requisitions on humanity, 184 — Its vacillations, 185 — Reverential feeling of the divine, 186 — Opposition to the popular religion, 187. Musonius, 188 — His scholastic cast of mind, 189 — Thoroughly practi- cal tendency, 101 — Philosophy the only waj' to virtue, 192 — Moral praticc, 193 — Philanthropy and moderation of his ethical system, 195. Epictctus, 19^ — Eclecticism, 197 — Low estimate of logic, 199— Phi- losophy as an art of life, 201 — Silence as to physics, 202 — What is and what is not in man's power, 204 — We are but as spectators in this world, 205 — We ought to control our sensuous representations of things, 20f) — Mortification of all desires, 207 — Instruction in good and evil, 208 — Separate maxims, 210 — Selfish tendency, 213 — Op- posite tendency of benevolence, 215 — Religious tendency, 216 — Action in connection with the external world, 218 — We ought to fulfil our part in the world, 219— Humility, 220. M. Aurelius Antoninus, 221 — Aversion for the outward; Pursuit of inward peace, 222 — Soul as a separate isolation from the rest of the world, 224 — Tlie demon within us, 224 — Approximation to the Graco-Oriental pliilosoi)hy, 226. CHAP. IV, ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY AND THE NEW SCEPTICS, p. 228—330. Learned Stoics, 22fi — Learned Platonistf , 229 — Areius Didymus, 229 — Tlirasyllus, Albinus, Alcinous, Maxinius of Tyre, 230 — Mild view of Vlll CONTENTS. things, 231— Eclecticism, 232— Opposition to this Eclecticism, Taurus Atticus, 234 — Predominance of a practical view. Inclination to- wards Scepticism, 237— Favorinus, 238. Peripatetics, 239— Commentators of Aristotle, 240— Inclination for Platonic doctrines, 241— Alexander of Aphrodisias, 241 — Deference to common phraseology and opinion, 242 — Religious tendency, 244 — Against the Platonists, 246. Galen, 249— Medical schools, 250— Logical tendency, 251— Ethics, physics, 253— Eclecticism : regard to the useful, 255— Theory of the soul, 256. Sceptics, 258— Physicians, 258— Date of their labours, 261— iEnesi- demus, 262— Heraclitic doctrines, 263— The relation of these to Scepticism, 265— Methodical labours of the new Sceptics, 268 — Agrippa, 269— New simplification of the grounds of Scepticism. Menodotus, 270— Sextus Empiricus, 272 — Character of his writings, 273— Inconsistencies in his view of Scepticism, 274 — Object of the new Scepticism, 277 — Common opinion and phenomena, 279 — Moral point of view, 280— Practical art, 281 — Controversy against all knowledge which goes beyond phenomena, 284 — Signs which recall absent impressions, 285 — Communication of thought, 286 — The soul an unknown object, 288 — Materialism, 290 — Coherency of the general line of thought among the [Sceptics, 291 — Separation of the Empirical branches of knowledge from philosophy, 293 — Par- ticular objections of Scepticism, 295 — On the syllogism, 297 — On the criteria of truth, 300 — Division. Man as criterion of truth, 301 —Cognition and its object distinct, 303 — The body and the senses are not cognizant, 304 — Nor the understanding, 306 — Nor the under- standing by means of the senses. The truth cannot be judged of after the conception, 308 — Revealing signs, 312 — Cause and effect, 815 — Contact of two bodies as a condition of causal connection, 317 — Cause and effect indistinguishable, 318 — Contemporaneous, 320 — The cause as the passive and the effect as the active, 321 — God as the active cause, 323 — Moral and physical evil considered relatively to God, 326 — Relation of Scepticism to the Eclectical Dogmatism of this period, 327. SECTION II. ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY AND ITS INFLUENCE ON GRECIAN PHILOSOPHY. CHAP. V. INDIAN PHILOSOPHY, p. 330—406. Division of Indian Philosophy, 334 — Sources of our knowledge of it, 3.3.5 — Orthodox and heterodox systems, 336 — Six leading systems, 337 — Chronological succession, 339. CONTENTS. IX 1. Sankhya and Yoga, 340 — Science as the only means of a complete emancipation from evil, 341 — Species of knowledge, 342 — Division of the objective. The creative and uncreated, 343 — The uncreated and uncreative. The soul, 344 — Nature and soul as opposed to each other. Multiplicity of souls, 346 — Two principles in combi- nation explain the mundane system. The soul as spectator, 347 — Nature as a blindly producing power, 348 — Gradational distinction of the subordinate principles, 348 — Degrees of mimdane existence (qualities), 349 — Progression from the subtler to the grosser cor- poreity, 350 — Spirit, or " The Great One." No supreme God, 351 — Self-consciousness the cause of a multiplicity of souls or spirits. The principles of the elements, 352 — Species of the created and uncreative. The sensible, 352 — All that happens concerns not the soul, 354 — Contradictions in this doctrine, 355. Yoga, 357 — God, 357 — Absorption of the soul in God, 358 — The Bhagavad-Ghita, 360 — God as the ground of nature and the soul, 361 — Emanations, 362 — The soul in union with God, 363 — Man as the instrument of the divine deed, 364. The Nyaya and Vaiseschika, 364 — Logical doctrines, 365 — The defi- nition of ideas the starting point of philosophy, 366 — The genus and difference. Difference between soul and body, 367 — The animal body. The sensuous organs, 369 — The sensible. The five organs. Atoms, 369 — Higher combining power, 371 — The mind : internal and external consciousness, 373 — Acts, faults, migration of souls, retribution. Emancipation from evil, 374 — The individual soul and the supreme soul, 375 — Emancipation from evil through a know- ledge of its own essence, 376. The Vedanta Philosophy, 376 — Its different developments, 377 — Orthodox pliilosopliy, 378 — Lower and higher science, 379 — Con- troversy, .380 — Refutation of sensualism, .380 — Against idealism, 384 — Against the Sankhya, 384 — God not the ruler of the world, 385 — One principle of all things and in all things, 380 — Unchangeableness of the principle in all its different developments, 388 — Perfect one- ness of the principle. Its developments arc not mere semblance, •389 — Modes of sensuous representation, .390 — A descending series of emanations, .391 — The soul a part of God, 392 — Its sufferings in its union with the body, 39.3 — Reward and punishment infinite, but are not of the essence of the soul, .395 — Action as a means of attaining to repose. Holy practices, 39.5 — Science the only adcfpiato meniis, 396— Contemplation of God, 398 — Connection and limitations of these doctrines, 398 — Propagation of the act once begun, 401 — On the influence of Indian on Grecian philosophy, 402. X CONTENTS. CHAP. VI. PHILO THE JEW, p. 407—478. His mental character, 407 — Predominance of Oriental ideas, 409 — Low estimate of Grecian philosophy, 411 — A higher source of knowledge. Religious stimulus, 414 — Oriental view therein, 417 — Its relation to Grecian philosophy, 418 — iPhilo's importance in the history of phi- losophy, 419 — His vacillatory estimate of Grecian civilization, 420 — The senses as a means of knowledge, 421 — Rejection of sensualism, 422 — The intellect, 424 — Advance from the special to the general, 425 — ^God the supreme genus, 425 — God is Being, without qualities or names, 426— God, not the good, unknowable, 428 — Inconsistent views on this point, 428 — God the cause of the world, 430 — He creates without being changed, 432 — He has no contact with matter, 433 — Knowledge which man has of God, 434 — God can be con- templated by man in himself, 436 — Energies or powers of God. The Word of God, 437 — Vague doctrines on this subject, 438 — The powers of God neither cognizable nor expressible, 441 — Theory of emanations, 443 — Profound sense of evil, 444 — Matter, 446— Con- nection with the doctrine of the freedom of man, 447 — Theoretical inconsistencies on human liberty, 448 — Philo held it from prac- tical interests, 449 — Vacillations in his system, 451 — Its ethical tendency, 452 — Indecision on the question, whether the supreme good is attainable, 454 — Contempt for political and practical pur- suits, 455 — Virtue alone is good. Platonic division of virtues, 456 — The supreme virtue, 457 — Virtue as a result of nature, practice, and science. Apathy, 458 — The virtue of nature higher than the ascetical, 400 — Two-fold interpretation of scientific virtue, 461 — Indecision of view on this point, 462 — Permanent eleiuent of his view. The weakness of man and the power of God in him, 466 — The lowest virtues. Hope, the amelioration of the senses, and justice, 468 — Relation of the lower to the higher virtues, 470 — Faith, 471 — Philo's position relatively to the Jewish religion, 472 — He combines Oriental modes of view with the Grecian enlighten- ment, 473. CHAP. VII. SPREAD OF ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS, p. 479—520. Neo-Pythagoreans, 479 — Apollonius of Tyana, 481 — Profound medi- tation within one's self, 482 — Ascetical tendency. Purification by CONTENTS. XI religious practices, 482— Speechless prayer to the supreme God, 483 —Veneration for the Oriental, 484 — Moderatus, Nicomachus, 485. Plutarch, 485— His method of philosophising, 486— Neglect of funda- mental investigations. Mixture of diflPerent philosopliemes, 488 — Inconsistencies in his religious views, 489— Philosophy as the foun- dation of religion, 492 — Deraonology. Belief in the marvellous, 494 — Divine operations in the human mind, 495 — The hidden God passed over into becoming. The world-fashioning God, 497 — Three principles, 500 — Matter, 501 — The evil soul and the corporeal, which is neither good nor evil, 502 — Inconsistencies on this point, 505 — Tendency to Oriental views, 507. Apuleius : Demonology.509— God, Reason, and the mundane soul, 510. Cronius. Numenius, 510— Reference of the Grecian philosophy to Oriental wisdom, 511— The existent. It is bodiless and simple, 51.3. Reason and the Good, 514 — God inactive, the father of the world- shaping God, 515 — The third God, 515 — Doctrine of the Soul. Two souls, 517 — Union of Reason with the Good, 518. BOOK XIIL HISTORY OF THE DECLINE OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY, SECTION II. NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY. CHAP. I. BEGINNING OF THE NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY. PLOTINUS, p. .521— G07. Ammonius Saccas, 524 — His disciples, 525 — Plotinus. His life, 520 — Traits of his character and that of his school, 527 — His writings, 530 — His style, 532— His relation to tiie carhcr philosophy, and the opinions of his age, 633 — His doctrine more theoretical than prac- tical, 637 — Arguments for and against the sensuous perception, 538 — Sensuous presentation and intellectual thought, 5.39 — Intuition of reason, 541 — Intuition of the (>nc, .542 — Science notliing more than a means, 64-1 — Mysticism. Enthusiasm, 545 — Contemplation is only transitory, 546 — Analogies between contemplation and scientific thought, 548 — The three highest grounds. Reason and being one, Xll CONTENTS. 551 — Subordination of Reason and of being, 552 — Every multiple is imperfect ; and the One alone perfect, 554 — The One without reason and thoug-ht, 556 — Negative and contradictory propositions about the One, 558 — The One not the Good, 558— The One not the primal essence, 560 — The One not the One, 561 — The One does not exclude all multiplicity, 562 — It is infinite, 563 — The First creates the Second and the Second the Third, 564 — Figures of the theory of emanations, 564 — Relation of Reason to the One, 566 — The existent, life, energy, essence in the Reason, 568 — Union of the contrarieties in Reason. Intelligible matter in it, 569 — The soul an effiux of Reason, 570 — Reason and the soul conditioned and infinite, 571 — The soul as the outwardly operative. It comes into contact with the sensible, 574 — Contradictory views of the soul, 575 — The soul as the close of the supra-sensible emanations, 578 — Sensible matter, 579 — An unlimited series of effluxes, 580 — Everything in the sen- sible world ensouled and living, 581 — Beauty of the world : the evil that is in it, 582 — Contradictory tendencies in his mode of viewing the world, 584 — The freedom of things, 587 — Freedom to good and to evil, 588 — Consequences therefrom as regards individual souls, 590 — The true soul is without passions, 591 — The true man is reason, 592 — The soul, throughout all its emanations, remains identical in its essence, 592 — The corporeal alone is passive. Contempt for this temporary life, 593 — Inconsistencies in, nevertheless, exhorting men to philosophy and virtue, 595 — Opposite directions of thought in Plotinus, 598 — Pursuit of perfect science, 601 — His incompetency to combine their pursuit with the rational life of the soul, 604 — Predominance of general investigations on the supreme principles, 605 — 'Reduction of physics into magic, and of ethics into asceticism, 605. CHAP. II. SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONIC DOCTRINES, p. 608—634. Porphyry, 608 — His merits and deserts in the neo-PIatonic school, 609 — Objections which have been brought against him, 610 — Is favourable to the view of a magical and spiritual influence in nature, 612 — Phi- losophy in moral exercise, 614 — Pursuit of the contemplation of God, 616— Dislike of theurgy, 617. The Egj'ptian mysteries, 617 — Defence of theurgy on the principles of the neo-Platonic school, 619 — Traditions of Hermes, 621 — Perfect union of God with his worshippers, 621 Matter hallowed by the gods, 623 — Mixture of a pure worship of God with the grossest superstition, 623 — Defects of himian nature, 624 — Theurgy the only road to felicity, 626. CONTENTS. Xlll JamblicliuSj G27 — Reason not without passivit}'. We are in want of a higher assistance, fi29 — Polytheistic theology, 630. Successors of Janablichus, 631 — Persecutions under the Christian emperors, 632 — Means of defence, 632. CHAP. III. CLOSE OF THE NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY, p. 635—666. The neo-Platonic school limited to a narrow circle of traditionary inquiries, 63.5 — Importance of theurgy in its view. Athenian school, 636 — Plutarch and Sj'rianus, 636. Proclus, 638 — Pursuit of consistent and coherent proofs, 642 — Mysti- cism, 643 — Faith, 644 — Not through knowledge, but by their exist- ence, are tilings connected with the First Cause, 645 — Influence of logical forms on his doctrines. Emanations, 646 — Deviations from the doctrine of Plotinus. Multiplication of degrees in the effluxes, 647 — MultipHcity of gods and demons, 648 — Attempt to maintain the differences of kind alongside of the diflTerences of degree, 649 — The human soul in need of aids, and the reason in us, 651 — Con- trariety of the corporeal and incorporeal, 651 — Union of the soul with the corporeal, 652 — The emancipation of the soul only gradual, 653 — Reflexion the activity of the incorporeal — gradual return, 654 — On the other hand, the characteristic distinctions and the grada- tional limitation of the effluxes, 655— The intuition of the One re- jected. The unparticipant, 656 — Mystical tendency therein, 659 — Faith, truth, and love combine the lower with the higher, 659 — Cha- racter of the doctrine of Proclus, 660. School of Proclus, 661 — Damascius, 662 — Complete scepticism in- volved in the tendency to mysticism, 664 — Fortunes of the last of the neo-Platonists, (j()5. Concluding remarks, 666. HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. In our attempt to determine the several periods of Grecian philosophy, we characterised the third and last as that of its decline, and the history of this period will furnish an unbroken chain of testimony to the justness of this designation. But, as we formerly remarked, this check in the progress of philosophy cannot justly be regarded as a general retardation of human enlightenment. For the decline of philosophy does not necessarily involve anything more than a decay of the intrinsic and concen- trating energ}^ of scientific culture, with which, however, its diffusion over both a more extensive range of matter, and a wider circle of mind, may very well consist. Indeed, it is possible that, in all other branches of mental culture, considerable advancement may accompany the decline of philo- sophy. And such indeed was actually the case ; as in fact it could not well be otherwise, unless we were at liberty to suppose, that during the many centuries which compose this period of our history, the human mind had been asleep, and never once awoke into activity. iv. B 2 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. If to the right understanding of the earlier periods of this history, a brief sketch of the general state of literature and intelligence which prevailed in them were necessary, it is particularly so in the present case, since the weaker the philosophical impulse becomes, the more dependent is it on the circumstances of its age. In this sketch the most prominent feature will be the state of Rome, which had now become the centre of the civilized world, and wiith which consequently all the rest was more or less connected, and of which, on this account, our information is the most complete. Other places, however, which are at this time principal seats of learning- will also claim our notice. Thus, notwith- standing our wish to be brief, these preliminary remarks will inevitably extend to a greater length than any others which it has appeared advisable to introduce in this history. Viewed as a whole, this period presents in these grander and more prominent features, which at once arrest the eye of the observer, a spectacle which has rarely if ever been surpassed in brilliancy. So likely is the eye to be dazzled, and the judgment corrupted, by the outward splendour and the increased means of enjoying life which prevailed from the com- mencement of this period to the close of the second century, during which even industrial pursuits had advanced to the dignity of a fine art. All the grand works of architecture which, though in ruins, still enforce our admiration — all the master-pieces of art, whether of marble or of bronze, which have escaped the destroying hands or the indifference of barbarism belong principally to this period. They ARTS AND LITERATURE OF ROME. 6 testify, it is true, to a union of splendour with taste; but at the same time they remind us of an earlier time, which, combining a pure and noble taste with great fertility of invention, furnished the models which the existing age was content to imitate and copy. The arts, as cultivated by imperial Rome, are, like its literature, but echoes of the Grecian. But even as such they might still afford a ground of gratulation to the student of humanity, if the pure pleasure which they are capable of exciting were not marred by the many traces which the political scene of their develop- ment exhibits of inherent barbarism and passion, which no mental culture could check or modify. The immense proportions of the buildings of Rome compared with those of Greece, while they remind us of the colossus of her power, witness at the same time to the iron hand of rapacity by which the provinces were administered, and rich and flourish- ing districts laid bare and desolate, in order to enrich and embellish imperial Rome. They awaken the reflection that this wealth had been amassed by violence, and that, augmenting as it grew the desire for display and luxury, it led still to fresh and greater enormities, while the heads of the republic competed with each other in every evil art, until at last they were over-reached by a single individual and a single family, who from that time viewed all rivals with cruel and vindictive suspicion. The frauds and violence which marked the last days of Roman freedom, and are too well known to need recapitulation in this place, were nevertheless relieved in some degree by a firm and vigorous b2 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. policy, an intelligent and skilful conduct of affairs, and a sincere and bold spirit of patriotism. But these virtues of the Roman citizen and statesman were quickly extinguished, or rather driven into the shade, by the cruelty of the first Caesars: wholly extinguished they certainly were not, but only smothered for a while; for a time came when under a milder sway a better spirit prevailed again, and when upright and moral principles were not ^ only professed but acted upon both in private and A /iiv**' in public life. Yet even in this better aspect of things it is but too evident that the public morality ?^' I .Jw was devoid of a real and abiding principle; since f* otherwise it would neither have been repressed by the frown of a court, nor required its smile to call it forth again. And it was even under these better emperors that the weakness and decay of the Roman empire first showed itself distinctly ; for of the olden military excellence of Rome nothing was left to her but the form and organization of her armies. The more Rome was driven to admit into her legions the neighbouring barbarians, the more rapidly was she hurrying to her ruin. It soon became impossible to conceal the painful truth, that the voice of the legions disposed of the imperial throne, and that the army was no longer the instru- ment but the possessor of authority. Impatient of obedience, and refusing all control, where its good- will could not be conciliated, its favour or its forbear- ance even must be bought. And this army too was no longer recruited from the pure blood of Roman citizens, and animated by Roman spirit, but a motley conflux of mercenary and rapacious aliens ! From LITERATURE OF ROME. 5 such a State of things it was no great step to the subjection of the Western half of the Roman world bv warlike adventurers of the German race. And even the half which escaped this degradation scarcely presents a more cheering spectacle. Here the language of Greece was fated to regain the ascendancy, but it was no longer the Greeks of old by whom it was to be spoken, but a race long habituated to slavery, and ready enough with tongue and guile, but incapable of great resolutions or of glorious deeds. The outward splendour of the Eastern empire ill concealed its inward weak- ness. As to literature, which is more akin than politics to the immediate subject of our history, it had in general, at the opening of this period, taken a bold flight, and produced works of great and undoubted excellence, which served for the models of later times. But this master-age, this glory of the Latin lano-uaoe and literature, was of brief duration. And how, in truth, could it be otherwise? For as the end of every literature is the appropriate ex- pression of the national consciousness, the range and extent of the latter must determine the richness and copiousness of the former. Now that these were very limited in the Roman mind, few will hesitate to admit. The mental character of the Romans undoubtedly possessed tliis feature in com- mon with that of the Greeks; — that the love of country was the focus towards which all their intellectual efibrts converged. Perhaps, indeed, the eflbrts of Rome w^ere directed to this end with greater steadiness and singleness of purpose, aiul 6 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. with a larger and more comprehensive policy than those of Greece, and thereby the Romans arrived at nicer distinctions and a more extensive survey of all the relations of life, and of human society especially. But, on the other hand, they were almost wholly devoid of that ideal flight, and that calm observation of nature, to which the Greek had risen by the artistic character of his mind. Two things . principally are calculated to impart this ideal flight : — art and religion. Now the influence of the latter, both with Greeks and Romans, was very secondary, being merged either in political or else in artistic considerations. To the former of these two the religious feeling of the Romans was entirely subordinate, and accordingly whatever of sublime or of grand their religious history exhibits, is confined to the sublimity of their exalted patriot- ism, and the enthusiasm with which they laboured for the defence or aggrandizement of their republic. With this national feeling, whatever was peculiar in their religion had grown up and coalesced, while the form of their worship they willingly received from foreign sources, in the adoption and main- tenance of which they were equally influenced by political considerations. Their religion accordingly was little calculated to raise them to the ideal, but was indebted for the favour which they showed it solely to calculations of public utility. As to art, it undoubtedly met with a sort of general encourage- ment among the Romans, vvho were not wholly insensible to its charms ; nevertheless, as the cre- ative energy which developed itself among them was but weak and limited, their whole literature LITERATURE OF ROME. could not be animated by any fresli and spontaneous breath of enthusiasm. In poetry, which of all arts they cultivated the most, since in it they could not avail themselves of the labours of a foreign artist ; they nevertheless were far behind the Greeks, and especially in those branches which required a sus- tained effort of fancy, and consequently of a mature and cultivated sense of ideal beauty. In dramatic and epic poetry, they remained the imitators of the Greeks ; and wherever they attempted to leave the real in order to rise to the ideal, instead of chaste and perfect models of the beautiful, we rarely meet with anything but exaggeration, a mock sublimity, and rhetorical extravagance. Their attempts to combine the natural and the simple with the ideal, were seldom happy. In lyrical poetry, likewise, they seem to have adhered closely to their Grecian originals ; and although this branch of Latin poesy is marked more frequently than the two former by natural simplicity of thought and language, it is far from betraying the profound and contemplative spirit of the Greeks. The particular province in which the Roman muse was most prolific and most original, is of a mixed kind, which, seldom rising above a delineation of active life, and for the most part satirical and playful, expresses itself with natu- ral feeling indeed, but rests almost entirely on a personal view of things. With this personal view it undoubtedly combines in some degree the pur- suit of ideal excellence, which is essential to every species of art ; but this ideal is confined to the limits of the desirable, and never transcends that degree of perfection which may appear attainable under 8 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. certain favourable circumstances, and in the exist- ing state of enlightenment. That keen perception of natural beauty which the Greek owed to the artistic character of his mind,— the enthusiasm with which he loved to penetrate into the inmost recesses of nature, to trace the universal form, and to brood upon the many traces which it exhibits of a mys- terious relationship, sympathy, and communion between man and the natural world, were very rare and little encouraged among the Romans. They looked upon the external world for the most part as the arena of human activity, and consequently they have contributed little to the advance of natural sciences. On the other hand, they applied them- selves earnestly to the practical development of human nature, and especially to the grand problem of politics. This was the spring and the animating principle of their whole literature and mental en- lightenment. The statesmen of the last days of the republic w^ere in fact highly enlightened, refined, and even learned men. From a very early period the Roman statesmen had directed their whole attention to the attaining to a comprehensive know^- ledge of the legal principles of political intercourse, and they considered learning to be essential to the right administration of state affairs. Upon the subjection of Greece, therefore, an acquaintance with literature and arts appeared to them indispen- sable. There is hardly a statesman of this age who did not strive to qualify himself for political life by cultivating this branch of learning, or at least who did not do homage to it by acknowledging its necessity. The most illustrious of her statesmen LITERATURE OF ROME. if ■went even further ; they sought not only to acquaint themselves with the literature of Greece, but even to imitate it ; nay more, to engraft it upon the national intellectual character. And the attempt was successful in such branches of mental culture as the Romans had independently pursued for them- selves ; and all these were more or less of a political nature. Accordingly, the branches of literature in which their reputation is the highest, are political history and oratory. In these, perhaps, the Romans may even rival the Greeks ; for although they dili- gently studied the Grecian models, they neverthe- less drew from themselves both the matter and the form of their works. At the same time we must confess that their histories are destitute of that calm, contemplative character which constitutes the pecu- liar excellence of the Greek historians ; and that as they employ throughout at one of passion and par- tizanship, they consequently evince a disposition to give a personal rather than an historical estimate of events. But, however worthy of admiration these pro- ductions of the Roman mind may be, the literary activity of Rome was extremely limited both in extent and duration. By remounting to first principles we find that the literature of every people depends both for its first rise and subsequent maintenance on a spontaneous effort of art to exhibit and portray the national consciousness. By the continual efforts of this artistic effort a certain skill of execution is formed, and a taste to estimate its own nud foreign creations. Now as tlie artistic principle was very weak in the l«(>in;iii mind, it is 10 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. by no means surprising- that its influence was limited and transitory, and incapable of long main- taining a pure taste. Except under powerful and favourable circumstances it was unable" to produce aught of importance. Such advantages were pro- vided for it in the last days of Roman liberty, when every talent, whether of good or of evil, was put in requisition for the attainment of a brilliant object — the empire of the world, for a longer or a shorter period. A proud and powerful aristocracy had entered into competition for this brilliant prize. Birth and ancestral recollections gave a claim to enter into the contest; but these alone afforded little hope of success which depended greatly upon wealth, but still more on personal talents for war and peace. The possession of these qualifications ensured the acquisition of the others; indeed we might also venture to assert that a genius for peace even availed more than military talents. The latter might perhaps enable their possessor to acquire, but without the former it was impossible to retain. For the Romans had not yet learned to see with patience the helm of state guided by unskilful hands ; there were still many both powerful and vigilant to take advantage of the weakness of their opponents. Now the art of maintaining authority in peace must be founded on a varied and enlarged knowledge of men and things, a gifted and ready eloquence, and a refined and cultivated taste. Accordingly there have been few periods in the history of the world, in which the cultivation of literature was more general among statesmen than in the last days of Roman liberty. Of these times, the Augustan age was the LITERATURE OF ROME. 11 sum and the result — the harvest of this earlier seed- time ; aud when at a later period a new vitality seemed to be infused into the literature of Rome under Trajan, yet the germ from which it sprung was the intellectual culture which prevailed in the days of Cicero and Augustus. But even at this date, the little originality of Roman science and arts is strikingly manifest. As they had sprung up beneath the breath of favourable circumstances, so upon the disappearance of these advantages they immediately declined. The further development of Roman literature was checked by two circumstances chiefly, — its dependence on court patronage, and its relation to Grecian literature. As soon as the power of the nobles, who had emu- lously rivalled each other in every generous as well as ambitious pursuit, had been supplanted by the tyrannical authority of an individual, the taste of the court became the standard of literary excellence. While, therefore, the court laboured to put down the troublesome independence of the nobles, and in short to repress every Roman feeling and senti- ment, and when the possession of a free and inde- pendent spirit was as dangerous as it was rare, the Roman works of science and poetry naturally sank into superficial unmeaningness, learned trifling, and a pompous display of ornamental diction. The superintendence which the new, and consequently suspicious, authority of the emperors claimed over the public difl'usion of literary works, could not but be unfavourable to the free exercise of thought and fancy. The only favourable circumstance of this time, was the difl'usion of the Latin tongue over the 12 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. Western provinces of the empire ; and from this date Spaniards and Gauls and Africans began to play- no inconsiderable part in Latin literature, whilst in Rome itself and in Italy the taste for it was declin- ing rather than advancing. In the court, it is true, it still maintained itself for a while, but in a weak and overpolished style ; at one time affecting learned but obsolete applications, another, priding itself in elegant but enervated forms, and at another striving to reproduce by ingenious but laboured antitheses the force and terseness of the older writers. To find a natural expression for thought, had become a difficulty. Those who still retained a lingering sympathy for ancient liberty, could not easily eman- cipate themselves from a veneration for ancient works, which they regarded as the best models of modern composition. Numerous commentaries and explanations appeared accordingly, and a general desire prevailed to outdo, if possible, their peculiar excellencies ; and both these circumstances equally tended to repress the true freedom of nature. To all these causes of corruption we must add, the imitation of the Greeks, which in any case could not but be prejudicial to Latin literature ; but more especially when the models of imitation were not chosen from the ancient works of its best ages, but from the later and artificial productions of the Alex- andrian school. These were recommended, both by their proximity in time, for the present is always more powerful than the remote, and by being, in common with that of Rome, dependent on the pro- tection of a court. Moreover, the literature of Rome had, even from its origin, a formidable rival LITERATURE OF ROME AND GREECE. 13 in that of Greece. For a long time the Latin language was looked upon as too rude for the com- position of works calculated to n;eet the appro- bation of men of refined taste. Thus both Sylla and LucuUus preferred the language of Greece as the medium of transmitting their life and actions to posterity ; for the readers of Greek greatly out- numbered those who read Latin. ^ It was only in a part of Italy and in the Roman colonies that Latin was vernacular ; it had not as yet acquired that wide diffusion which it subsequently attained by the spread of the laws and customs of Rome. If Latin literature was able to make any head against the pressure of the Grecian, it was indebted for this principally to the necessity which existed of em- ploying the language of Rome in the practice and pleadings of the Roman tribunals, from which cause it acquired an almost exclusively rhetorical charac- ter. But alongside of it, in every country, the language and literature of Greece maintained them- selves, which, although not equally indispensable for the conduct of affairs, possessed nevertheless the reputation of greater fitness for such a purpose. In all the more distinguished families Greek was spoken : the confidential slaves, the freedmen, the favourite associates of the Romans, were for the most part Greeks. It was the fashion, both in conver- sation and correspondence, to introduce Grecian terms and ))hrases. The fine arts were almost exclusively in the hands of Greeks : Grecian teachers and professors abounded everywhere ; and ' Cic. pro Arch, poeta 10. Grscca Icguntur in omnibus fere gcntibus, Latina fciiiit finibus, exiguia sane, continentur. 14 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. even in grammar and rhetoric they were by many preferred to Roman masters. According!}', it was only natural that, after a brief pre-eminence, the Latin literature should abandon all rivalry with the Grecian, whose victory was complete at the second century under Trajan. And this continued to be the relative position of the two literatures, until both were alike driven into the shade by a new doctrine and a new religion. In a certain sense it is undeniable, that the Grecian literature after a brief period of neglect and obscurity, which was consequent upon and contem- poraneous with the decline of the older philosophical schools, commenced a new era of splendour towards the close of the first century after Christ. But, as this splendour was not the result of any inherent energy, such as animated the youthful productions of the Greek mind, but was the result of external causes, it was merely by a false and superficial glit- ter that it sought to maintain itself. To trace this false and perverted taste to its origin, requires an accurate knowledge of the extant history of the rhetorical schools of Rhodes and Asia. Their influence commences with Cicero and his cotem- poraries who availed themselves of the instruction aftbrded by them. That the literature which was formed in these schools was anything but rich in matter is of itself highly probable. Of that of Asia it is well known that it sought to conceal its poverty by poetical ornament and pompous diction. It was here perhaps that that Oriental influence of which we shall speak hereafter first made itself gradually felt. Along with these schools that of GREEK RHETORICAL SCHOOLS. 15 Athens, although constantly varying in importance, enjoyed high repute, and stood in a certain opposi- tion to that of Asia. Here historical recollections would naturally lead the Athenian professors to choose their models from the earlier writers, and accordingly the first objects of this school were to preserve the purity of the Athenian dialect, and to avoid the faults of an overladen and flowery dic- tion. Moreover the proximity of the philosophical schools, and the influence which they necessarily exercised on the cultivation of eloquence, may have contributed greatly to give to the oratory of this school a predominant richness of thought over dic- tion. But it was not long before the influence of the Asiatic school made itself felt even here.^ Its per- nicious bias may be traced even in the more correct writers, who adorned the close of the first and the opening of the second century a.d., of whom it will be sufficient, in this respect, to instance Plutarch alone. Nevertheless this corrupt tendency must have been counteracted, in some degree, by the con- stant endeavour of the school to maintain a pure Attic style, which, however, bore too exclusively a character of imitation to produce any great or per- manent effects. In this revival of literature, philo- sophy was highly cultivated, for philosophy ever constituted the basis of the scientific labours of Greece; and at the present moment, as will hereafter be shown in detail, it had received a fresh impulse, * Petron. 2. Nuper vcntosa isthaEC et enormia loquacitas Athcnaa ex Asia commigravit. IJut the Asiatic eloquence bad been imported into Athens some- what earlier. Weatcrmnnn Gescbichtc der iJeredtsanikeit in Griechenl. v. Rom. 1. Th. $82. 16 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. botli from the wants of the Roman mind, and from the introduction of Oriental modes of thought. In the speculations of this philosophy, politics, in which the Greeks now played a very subordinate part, and which, moreover, at this date, furnished but slight occasions for general inquiry, fell to the back ground ; while on the other hand, the duties of fami- lies and individuals, the habits and passions of men, were more largely and diligently examined. All the special branches of science and art were like- wise studied with great diligence ; although, in- deed, the researches of this age were far from being fruitful or original, being for the most part grounded on the labours of earlier times, of which, it confined itself to the explanation and facili- tation. In no one point is the mental weakness of this age so strikingly and so undeniably ex- hibited as in this. As to the influence which the Roman character exercised on Greek literature at this period, that is evinced principally in the rheto- rical aspect which it assumed in common with that of Rome. Luxuriance of style and language was scarcely ever carried further than it was in this age, and never was the talent of empty declamation more in vogue or better paid. Both the name and the profession of a Sophist were again in repute. The rhetoricians, like princes, prided themselves on the number of their followers : they were the inti- mate associates of the emperors and the most eminent personages. Under such distinguished patronage the profession flourished of course, and, however trivial its end, was the object of general and lively pursuit, and elegance of style became a ORIENTAL IDEAS. 17 paramount object even with philosophical writers, to which all other literary excellence was sacrificed. From this date good sense becomes rarer and rarer among the learned. At last even this faculty of playing with words was lost, and nothing remained but a faint remembrance of the ancient fulness and force of the language. This revival of Grecian literature in Athens and Rome was accompanied by a phenomenon which, in the history of philosophy, will on more than one occasion demand our attention ; and this is the influence which Oriental views, ideas, and pursuits exercised on the Greeks and Romans. This influ- ence did not, undoubtedly, first begin in the reigns of Trajan and Hadrian, its origin is of a much earlier date ; but it was at this date only that it was first sensibly experienced at Rome, from whence it materially aflected the habits and opinions of the whole civilized world. Its first rise was contempo- raneous with the earliest symptoms of decay of the purely Greek character ; when, sensible of its grow- ing weakness, it sought to supply by external aids its loss of intrinsic vigour. For thus it ever is : those whom the present satisfies not, and are yet devoid of a good courage to set their hopes on tlie future, invariably look to the past for the better and the more beautiful. Sucli dreams have at all times been rife. But there is still a wide step between such dreams and the point at which the mind, abandoning itself to its longing for the realization of such ideal excellence, hopes to find it in the past or even the existing history of a foreign people. Such a hope can never be seriously entertained by IV. c V 18 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. such as have any sense of a progressive energy in their own nation We formerly saw even disciples of Socrates fondly dilating upon the existence of a better state of things in the early ages of a foreign world, which they zealously depicted as a model to the Greeks, both of life and conduct. When, therefore, the great part of Asia had been brought under the dominion of Greece, a pretty general disposition was evinced to place in these remote countries, which as yet the Greeks had scarcely explored, the existence of the best of men, whom they loved to adorn with all that they themselves deemed most estimable and precious in humanity. Or at least they pretended to discover a profound wisdom in the earlier times of the conquered people. And thus an opinion soon spread of the profound philo- sophy of the Indians, and of the holiness of their lives. The wisdom of the Egyptians, of the magi, and of the Phoenician priests and the Jews, soon became famous. A hope was generally entertained that these people might furnish the solution of the greatest mysteries, and arts imparted by them by which the gods might be appeased, and nature herself brought under subjection to man. A more extensive acquaintance with these nations naturally tended to repress this highly wrought and extrava- gant opinion ; nevertheless a germ of it, whose root was deeper, still survived the shock of disappoint- ment. The growing intercourse of the Greeks and Ori- entals was not without considerable influence on the character of both. The Greeks, who ruled by superiority of arms as well as civilization, diffused ORIENTAL IDEAS. 19 their language over a great part of Asia and Africa, and in many places, indeed, the use of it quickly superseded the vernacular tongue. With the lan- guage of Greece, the nations of the East received also, in some degree, her scientific enlightenment. However proud they were of their own ancient science, it was scarcely possible for them to despise that of Greece. They possessed a natural taste for science, however limited it may have been ; and a desire to promote its further development, led them to consult Grecian teachers. But while they laboured to acquire this science, they made it their own, by introducing into it their own sentiments and ideas ; they formed of it a mixed Greek- Oriental doctrine. It is not too much to assume — for the obscurity of the matter precludes all precision and certainty — that such combinations of Greek science and Orien- tal ideas were even composed in the languages of tlie East. From these compositions, much which had previously been exploded, found its way again into the literature of Greece. Now, if the Orientals tiius acquired a wide enlargement of their mental consciousness, they were far from being on their part incapable of stimulating the Greek mind. At an early period of our labours we remarked, that the religion of Greece, as it fell more and more within the domain of art, was gradually stripped of its significancy ; that consequently a collision ensued Ijctween the religious conceptions and the scientific ideas of this people. All subsequent efforts to reconcile thein, when the pressure of the times liad revived a sense of the importance and necessity of religion, failed of ))roducing any satisfactory result; c 2 20 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. because, in fact, the loss of the primary significancy of the religious rites and symbols was ill supplied by an arbitrary one. At the time when Greece came into closer contact with the East, a very general desire existed for some form of worship which might serve as an adequate expression for this reviving sense of religion, and the rites of the East appeared in every respect calculated to satisfy this want. Accordingly, we find the Greeks insensibly adopting more and more of the public and mysterious rites of the East, entering warmly into the examination of its religious traditions, and comparing them with their own, which thereby acquired a more profound and pregnant meaning. It was natural that such a proceeding should lead to the introduction of a great mass of superstition, which at first spread obscurely, and among the lower classes of the people. Upon philosophy, this Oriental movement was without effect before the rise of the neo-Pytha- goreans. On this point, unfortunately, our infor- mation is far from satisfactory. It was only under the first emperors that they first attained to any great public consideration, which, however, was as yet confined to a few isolated phenomena, to which the Roman character was directly opposed. Among the earliest of the more distinguished Greek writers by whom this tendency is clearly and openly evinced, Plutarch is especially to be mentioned. From the time of Hadrian, it spread rapidly and widely. It showed itself in the deification of highly gifted individuals, who were venerated as founders of a holy and virtuous life, in the confusion of all re- ligious forms, and the longing after a mystical ORIENTAL IDEAS. 21 union with the divine, which was pretended might be attained to, partly by abstinence, and partly by empty and fanciful ceremonies, in comparison with which all the duties of active life were more or less neglected, and even looked upon as unholy and deiiling. It is manifest that these phenomena had their source in that deeply religious feeling which, while it led many to embrace Christianity, furnished ample food for the grossest superstition in those for whom the meek and humble spirit of Christianity had no charms. The culminating point and extreme result of this tendency was the opinion, which after the final triumph of Christianity was very generally diffused among its opponents, that in the central and less accessible parts of Asia, that life of sanctity and community of god-fearing sages, which ought to be the dearest object of man's wishes, was to be found. In the preceding sketch of the literature and his- tory of these times, we have chiefly given the darker side of the picture; but at the same time we have indicated some of its brighter and more cheering spots. It is now, however, for the first time in our history, taken as a whole, that its more cheerful objects are driven into the back ground. For the source of the prevailing corruption was the result of the decay of the true Greek spirit, or its combi- nation with the peculiarities of the national charac- ter, and consequently must on the whole have had an unfavourable effect upon the older philosophy, wjiich we have learned to regard as a pure creation of Greek intellect. Nevertheless, we find it neces- sary to take a more particular notice of the better 22 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. aspect of this age, both because it was not wholly without influence on philosophy, and also because it is our duty to point in what way this period con- tributed to the development of humanity. To present distinctly to the reader the unqualified antagonism between good and evil which necessarily marks this period from all others, we have only to consider, that, in reference to the mental develop- ment of man, it represents the termination of that authority which Greek science and art had for a long while maintained in directing the progress of human civilization. With the overthrow of this authority, much which had previously worked bene- ficially on humanity was naturally destroyed ; and, before a new regulative principle could be esta- blished from out of the elements into which it was dissolved, the course of things was necessarily marked by fluctuation and uncertainty. To the Greeks we are indebted for the discovery and the elements of nearly all the sciences and arts which even now are deemed worthy of an enlightened attention ; and even what they did not themselves invent, that by a happy quickness of apprehension they wisely appropriated and improved upon. Their intellectual supremacy long survived the decline of their political ascendancy, and the people of Rome and of the East were but the instruments by which the learning and intelligence of Greece were more widely diffused. Upon the dissolution of this intellectual empire, a dark and disturbing ele- ment was united with the earlier science and en- lightenment, in order that a new essence might form itself out of the combination. This is the process DECLINE OF NATIONALISM. 23 which we are to observe in the present period of our histoiy. Now the alloy which principally corrupted the purity of Grecian civilization, was derived partly from the Roman, partly from the Oriental character. In order, therefore, rightly to understand the course of events, it will be expedient to determine what elements of this mixture were supplied by the East, and what by Rome; and how far they furnished, either respectively or in common, the seeds of a new development. Favoured by the prevailing tendency of the age, the East furnished a new stimulus to the religious feeling ; while Rome, with its vast political efforts, added grandeur and dignity to the pursuits of life. Both furnished a valuable accession to the objects of human interest, but their proper effects were greatly impeded and marred by existing circum- stances, which also prevented their true importance being fully perceived at the time. For an attempt was made to combine them with the Grecian cha- racter, which was thus submitted to directly opposite actions; at once an immature fermentation was pro- duced, which dissolved every peculiarity of national character. Hence the subversion of independent po- litical communities, and the decay of national spirit, wliich forms so striking a feature in the political history of tliis period. Out of this medley of nations, which were held together by no other principle of union than a common subjection to an absolute power, the peculiarities of new nations were sub- sequently to evolve a new nationality and a new state. Hence too it was that tlie body of laws, which it is the glory of the Roman mind to have put forth 24 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. in this period, and by which it conferred a lasting and important benefit on mankind, is not a new code or more perfect revision of public rights, but merely a systematic exposition and a scientific grounding of the rights of individuals. At the same time, the revival of religious feeling, which commenced from the East, prepared the way for a profounder and a purer religion. It would be as foolish as useless to deny that the diffusion of Chris- tianity was greatly favoured by the whole direction which the East had given to the opinion of this age, and particularly by that sense of religion which the Oriental creeds had tended to revive in the minds of Greeks and Romans, which, although it showed itself unquestionably in many objectionable forms, nevertheless needed nothing more than a right apprehension of itself, and of the requisitions of man's nature in which it is founded, in order to lead immediately to the adoption of Christianity. The very circumstance which constitutes the weakness of this age must also have been subservient to this end. So long as the Greek and Roman characters retained their strong political bias, it was impossible to gain them over to a religion which acknowledged no country, and which, simply because it was an alien and exclusive, could not be otherwise than despised by the patriotic Greek and Roman. Chris- tianity, which was destined to be the faith of all nations, could not difi*use itself in its full energy until all the peculiar characteristics of the ancient races had passed away, and thereby the influence of the political element which, if it did not consti- tute the essence of the olden religions is distinctly RISE OF MODERN NATIONS. 25 traceable in them, had been entirely abrogated. In general terras, we may regard it as the proper mission of this age to prepare the world for the reception and diffusion of Christianity. But it is clear that this mission could not have been accomplished without the co-operation of a circumstance, which we have already slightly alluded to — the rise and formation of new nations. We[shall here take it for granted, that the political life of a people must have its historical basis ; that a communit}'^, in short, cannot become a nation except by the inheritance of an earlier age, of com- mon traditions, a common country, and a common language, and that so long only can it be truly said to live and flourish as this common inheritance is livingly propagated. Now how would it have been possible to reconcile Christianity with this inheri- tance of the olden nations ? Ancient traditions, the memory of ancient deeds, and of ancestors who had thrown such glory and such authority upon their descendants, drew the minds of men in one direction ; while Christianity with its precepts and injunc- tions called them to another. With the growing authority of Christianity, therefore, ancient political associations became weaker ; or rather they had previously been entirely abrogated, in order that Christianity miglit spread. On this account, per- haps, a certain opposition to the Cliristian doctrine may have grown up in that movement of religious ideas which the East had awakened, having for its object the protection of the olden spirit of nationality against tlie influence of the new religion. This, however, was a reaction not so much against the 26 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. sentiments of Christianity, as against the destructive force which it involuntarily brought to bear against the olden feeling of citizenship. But its efforts were vain, for the political spirit of the ancient nations had become corrupt and had lost all its purifying force, being dissolved into a mere collection of heterogeneous elements; since, in truth, no national peculiarity can long stand against the advance of catholic humanity. But, on the other hand, the peculiarities of national character are a in certain degree indispensable to the orderly advancement of humanity; since it is a necessary condition of its progress, that it maintain the bequests of olden times among its especial treasures. Out of the olden nations, therefore, new ones were to be formed, which should receive the patrimony of antiquity, without, however, adopting it as radically their own ; in order that, on the one hand, whatever was recon- cilable with the spirit of Christianity might be pre- served, and, on the other, whatever was hostile to it rejected. Now we know that these new nations were formed by the irruption of the German races into the western jDrovinces of the Roman empire. This event has consequently been taken to mark an epoch in the history of the world. But, in truth, this phenomenon was merely a continuance, on a larger scale, of earlier proceedings. For had not German soldiers been admitted long previously into the armies of Rome ? Had they not often played the despot over the tottering empire ? Were not emperors taken from their ranks ? That fusion of nations which was effected by the migration of the RISE OF MODERN NATIONS. 27 German races had long been going on in quiet; and, first introduced on private life, subsequently became undeniable in the public. The irruption of the northern races did but give a more decided character to this fusion, and carry it on on a larger scale. It removed all doubt that the Teutonic element was to form its ruling element and source of vigour; but at the same time made it equally unde- niable that the laws and enlightenment of the already half changed Roman, and that Christianity also, should exercise a decided influence in the for- mation of the new national characters. Accordingly, we believe we were not going too far, when we asserted that the character of the new nations was formed out of the Roman political character, and w^hen we regard this result as the peculiar mission of the period now under consideration. Even the Germans, who remained in their ancient seats on the southern and western boundaries of the empire, came into manifold contact with the Romans, and were unable to withdraw themselves from the course of civilization on wliich their emigrated brethren had entered. Such was the essential problem of this period of liumanity. It was for the most part remote from science, and therefore it was only in very subordi- nate matters that it could avail itself of the scientific element of liuman nature. Still we dare not ven- ture to assert, that these times were wholly unfruit- ful for science, only tliat the scientific fruits which they l;rought to maturity were rare ; and that, agreeably to tlie cliaracter of the age, even these were not cultivated independently and for their 28 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. own sakes, but in subservience to the purposes of active or of religious life. As early, real develop- ments of reason must exercise a favourable inHuence on science, so those which were pursued in this age were not without beneficial effects upon science, and therefore upon philosophy also. If in philoso- phy it would be sufficient to look to detached thoughts alone, then, indeed, we might justly affirm, that more philosophy was contained in the New Testament, than in all the writings of the Greek philosophers altogether. But as the pregnant ideas which the New Testament contains are not given in a scientific, i. e. philosophical form, they can only be regarded as the germs out of which later philosophical views were evolved. But with the development of these germs, we have not at present to do. Our proper task, as immediately connected with our previous labours, is to paint the decline of ancient philosophy. The development of the new, which took its form from Christianity, notwithstanding that it proceeded almost contemporaneously with the decay of the old, must be reserved to a special exposition. To the expediency of this course we previously alluded, when we were treating of the division of the history of philosophy into the old and the new. The course of our history will confirm what we there intimated, that the times to which the close of the one and the opening of the other belong, had a double literature, a double culture, and also a double philosophy, of which the histories require to be discussed sepa- rately. We shall find that the old literature of the Greeks and Romans, however ready it may have ITS POVERTY. 29 been to adopt new and discordant elements from the East, at first took scarcely any notice of the sentiments and ideas of Christianit}?^; and that afterwards, proud of its antiquity, of the splendour wherewith an occasional glimmer of the light of antiquity seemed to invest it, looked down upon its unshowy rival ; but that at last, when it could no longer deny the power and constraining influence which it had upon the minds of men, it scorned to be taught by it, and therefore adhered the more closely and anxiously to the lifeless remains of antiquity ; and, when all these were vain to help it, plunged into despair. In the same manner, therefore, that this ancient literature and philosophy held them- selves studiously apart from the Christian, we feel ourselves obliged to keep their histories separate, if we would render their opinions, views, and spirit, respectively intelligible. This period of the history of ancient philosophy, as it is the longest in duration, so it is the poorest in solid and lasting results. This intellectual poverty crawled on through six centuries. The long duration of its agony, undoubtedly affords proof of the tenacity of life possessed by a nation- ality independently evolved. But at the same time we must admit, that many concurrent circum- stances helped to support the vitality of the slowly sinking philosophy of Greece. Even were it to be sustained merely as a matter of tradition, it must have an occupation, and some vital interest must attach itself to it : for even a tradition cannot main- tain itself in a perfectly dead form ; it must connect itself with something endued witli life, from which 30 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. it may receive its support and aliment. Now in the case of Grecian philosophy, this interest was furnished by its relation to the East and the Roman world. These two relations led to the diffusion of philosophical doctrines over nearly the whole of the then civilized world. Greece, small in extent, sent its teachers over the vast regions of Asia Minor, Syria and Egypt, and even to the very confines of India ; Rome, from whence the scholars of Greece, men as it were domesticated in its doctrine, were disseminated over the whole of western Europe and the Roman province of Africa. In the East, where Grecian kingdoms and colonies flourished, so as either to suppress everything like national senti- ment, or to transmit it into a species of Grecian, the nature of things imposed upon philosophy a neces- sary task. With the other civilizing means of the Greek schools, it must contribute its part to the completion of this rapidly advancing change. In the West, on the other hand, where the mighty rulers of the world, eagerly thronged the assemblies of Grecian philosophers, as Alexander the Great formerly did, received them into their confidence, and made them presents from the spoil of nations, ambition, and every other passion, must have been stimulated by the keenest spur to master a science deemed worthy of such enviable distinc- tion. But how wide a departure is this from the natural source of philosophy ! It was no longer the love and inclination for science, which led men to cultivate it ; and it was only sustained on the one hand by the necessary continuance of the schools, and on the other, by the pursuit of those outward INFLUENCE OF ROME AND THE EAST. 31 advantages which were to be attained by its instru- mentahty. Such inducements were required by the Greeks, who, in the time of Cicero, were already described as a cunning, conceited, and worthless race.^ If, now, in this respect, the influence of Rome and of the East upon philosophy must in some measure be estimated as equal, they nevertheless respectively introduced into philosophy a very dif- ferent character. Not only had the Romans nothing of scientific development to impart to the Greeks, but their very character was little calculated to furnish them with any powerful stimulus to further researches, or new ideas in philosophy. The gene- ral pursuits of the Romans kept them far from the domain of speculation, which it is the highest pro- blem of philosophy to explore. Their desire, how- ever, to establish a legal organization of civil life, did, undoubtedly, exercise some influence on par- ticular questions of morals. And in this respect, indeed, the Romans were more nearly related to the Greeks than the Orientals ; for, as we have already shown, the later Stoics had diligently entered upon this topic, so that at most we can only allow that, owing to the predilection of the Romans for the practical questions of civil life, phi- losophical inquiry was directed more exclusively to the details of Ethics than had ever before been the case. But if the Roman mind was incapable of fur- nishing the Greeks with any prcgpant clement of philosophical development, it nevertheless greatly modified the form of philosophy as conveyed by the ' See, for instance, Cic. ad Quint, fr. I. 2, 2. 32 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. Greeks to their Roman disciples. Under this influ- ence it gradually formed itself into a fixed tradition, and now, for the first time, became completely a formal doctrine of the schools ; instead of, what it previously was, a vital movement of intelligence. Undoubtedly, as we have already remarked, the old creative energy had been gradually declining in the philosophical schools, nevertheless there still existed in them a certain activity, which was able to introduce a new cast of ideas into the old form of doctrine. This is true of all the chief schools of philosophy ; the only school to which it does not apply, is the spurious philosophy of the Epicureans, which, from its very commencement, adhered strictly to the old. Thus even among the Peripatetics, down to the time of Cratippus, we find a change of formulae, which seems to indicate, in a certain degree, a change of view and a degree of activity, however weak, in moral treatises ; while the Old Academy transplanted itself into the New, under ever varying forms, while the development of the Stoical schools may be distinctly traced down to the times of Cicero. But under the influence of the Romans, this gradually ceased to be the case. If the Romans came to learn of the Greeks, it was not the Greeks then living, a race deeply despised, that they venerated as models. But it was by the ornaments of an olden time, whose transmitted labours were the pride of the existing scholars of Greece, that the Romans sought to be instructed. This desire naturally led the philosophers back to the founders of their schools; and the principal object now with them was, not so much to invent new, as to re- ERUDITION IN PHILOSOPHY. 33 exhibit the old in its purity, and as much as possible to make it their own. In fact the present age could scarcely set itself a better task. Accord- ingly, the chief occupation of the schools now was to read and to explain the works of the older philo- sophers ; philosophers and grammarians rivalled (^ach other in disseminating these works, in sepa- rating the spurious from the genuine, in arranging them in the order best suited for perusal, and in explaining their meaning. In this way the works of Plato and Aristotle, in particular, became subjects of learned investigation in the Academic and Peripa- tetic schools. In the Stoical school the reputation of its first three founders still survived ; but a more active and original development animated this than any other sect, simply because the severe character of their ethical speculations accorded well with the spirit of the Romans and of the age generally. In this kind of learned labour with philosophy, a cer- tain general sum of the results, which the several schools might claim as their property, was esta- blished ; these leading principles were learned by the students as a brief comprehensive summary of tlie system which they professed, and even passed into common life as generally received opinions. Some of these points, indeed, were still controverted; but these disputes were reserved for the schools, where they were agitated as exercises of ingenuity, and for a display of sui)erior learning or judgim^nt, rather tlian from any true interest in the inves- tigation. When the doctrines of the several schools iiad been mutually limited, they, undoubtedly, were ever ready to measure their strengtii with IV. D 34 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. each other ; but the}^ soon found that controversy could lead to no good result, and the conviction was soon established, that their several differences of opinion rested ultimately on the particular view of the question which the respective schools had adopted once for all. The principles of a doctrine were no longer passed under examination with a view of attaining thereby to a further development of science: but, in philosophy, as in politics, men blindly followed a leader and adopted a particular party. Naturally enough this erudite handling of philo- sophy sanctioned and gave encouragement to the pur- suit of whatever bore the stamp of age. For in gene- ral erudition willingl3^ remounts to the bygone, and among the Romans, especially, ever since the fall of the republic, a predilection for the past was almost universal. Accordingly, every system of philoso- phy which had long been exploded, now reappeared on the scene. The principal part were, it is true, still played by the four leading sects which even in earlier times had been of the most consideration : — the Academy, the Lyceum, the Porch, and the Gar- den, but along with them the doctrines of the Hera- clitics, Pythagoreans, Cynics, and Sceptics were again in vogue. Of these, the latter two alone call for observation in the present place, for it is only in a few isolated points that the revival of the Hera- clitic philosophy is discoverable; and as to the importance of the neo-Pythagoreans, it was derived from its connexion with the impulses of Greek-Orien- tal philosophy. The revival of the Cynical doctrine, on the other hand, may be referred to that prevail- ing disposition of the age which favoured the spread ECLECTICISM. 35 of Stoicism ; for, as we formerly found, the Stoical system itself contained a germ of Cynicism. It was the practical aspect of this doctrine that formed its principal attraction, and which was in a great measure called forth again by the union of the Roman character with Greek philosoph}^; nevertheless, it did not meet with much favour, because it naturally was offensive to the refined manners of the nobles of Rome. But Scepticism, notwithstanding its repug- nancy to the Roman character, was a result of the form which philosophy, as modified by that charac- ter, necessarily assumed. For it must be evident that the habit which we have lately noticed of regarding the philosophical systems of the several schools as so many independent views of the world and of life, which admitted of as many inter- pretations as they presented different points of view, naturally favoured the introduction of a sceptical habit of thought. That this scepticism should not have followed the forms of the new Academy, but attached itself, in preference, to the older Scepticism is explicable, partly by the fact that the new Academy had itself undergone a modi- fication, eitlier by going back in some measure to Plato, or by assuming a friendly relation with Stoicism, and partly also by the impossibility almost of the new Scepticism attaching itself to any of the four schools of philosophy, from a learned com- parison of whose several opinions it principally took its rise. Moreover, it scarcely requires to bi- observed, that such a mere learned and school-philosophy as was in vogue in this age, should almost inevitably be D 2 36 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. attended by a tendency to Eclecticism. Even though, from a sense of weakness, all attempts at original invention may have been abandoned ; a certain freedom of judgment which shows itself by making a choice from among several already formed views may still survive. According to the mental habits of individuals, this choice necessarily differs ; whenever they do not adopt their master and his opinions from mere caprice or hazard, it must be some personal inclination which leads them to join a particular sect. Still it is not to be sup- posed that their adhesion is altogether unconditional; for the opinions of men never wholly agree, and so man gladly avails himself of a compromise by attaching himself in one particular, or perhaps in all important points, to one party ; but in others to another. This expedient is the more easy whenever the opinions of a particular school are adopted without previous examination, and adopted there- fore without a thorough conviction of their validity. Now it lies in the very nature of a selection from many existing systems that their scientific enchain- ment be dissolved, and thereby a loose and illogical method of proceeding with ideas, introduced. The probable would become the limit of inquiry; but the probable appears different to different minds : yet, at the same time, great deference is shown to general opinion, and the ideas which are commonly received and passing current in the world. This, perhaps, constitutes the greatest merit of the Eclec- tical system. It thereby preserves, in some degree, the consciousness of what the general reason de- mands of philosophy, and by opposing the false ECLECTICISM. 37 interpretations of an unsatisfactory philosophy, which is disposed to go beyond those requisitions of man's nature which first led to philosophy, arrived at a certain moderation of results seldom attained even by the greatest philosophers. But, in all this, there was no sound principle : the moderation of the Eclectics had its source in weakness. Anxious to avoid exaggeration, it feared the ultimate conse- quences to which a one-sided speculation, or a partial apprehension of a particular principle, necessarily led when fully worked out ; but it suffered the one- sided view and the partial apprehension to remain, and thus nourished the enemy within its own bosom. Its moderation is only so far worthy of praise as it transmits to future times, opinions calculated to awaken philosophical research. Eclec- ticism seeks to reap the fruits of earlier times with- out toil or trouble to itself: but without labour there can be no mental progression. The result, therefore, of the Roman influence on j>hilosophy was a fusion of difl'erent doctrines, which was almost inevitably accompanied by an opinion that the differences of the schools, especially of those which were in some degree related to each other, concerned only a few unessential points, and might be peaceably adjusted. Traces of such an opinion have been already noticed in the Stoical school and later Academies. But such an attempt at accom- modation was prevented from making any vital progress by the course which the Romo-Greek philosopliy had taken. For as this was reduced to tlie learned occupation witli the works of the olden philosophers, in uliirli tlie l^>man taste for the 105383 38 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. historical was not without its influence thereon, it was impossible to pass so easily over the difference of the several doctrines. On the other hand, the direction which was given to philosophy by the fusion of the Greek and Oriental characters, opened a far wider field for the disposition to combine the most opposite views, and to overlook the most important differences. Where a belief could exist of the possibility of combining the Grecian with the Oriental, there assuredly the facult}^ of distinguishing must have been very weak. How was it likely, that in such a quarter, any effec- tual resistance should be made to the attempt to see all in every doctrine? Moreover, the attempt was far from difficult in the particular domain of con- templation, which was at this time the favourite ob- ject of attention. This, we know, was confined to the obscurest matters of philosophy, for the expression of which language is inadequate, and of which all perception is denied ; which are accessible only to conjecture, and which fetter our eyes and our thoughts, simply on this account, because our longings for them transcend the limits of cognition. Now, in the old philosophers, nothing was to be found concerning these topics beyond slight allu- sions conveyed in figurative and mythical terms, and designed to indicate the limits of actual know- ledge; or if more definite opinions were occasionally advanced, they were accompanied by an indication that these were not to be understood in their more obvious sense. In short, it was impossible to deny that the matter so treated of was one which did not admit of being clearly expressed, which there- GR^ECO-ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 39 fore, if not inaccessible to intelligence, certainly could not be reduced to any precise form of doc- trine. When, however, man found himself, irre- sistibly attracted to this domain of investigation, the difficulty was sensibly felt of finding appro- priate expression for this great myster}', in order to render it intelligible, to set it forth in its true im- portance, and to portray it as an object of venera- tion. In this constraining desire to reduce to language the mystery of the divine, and its relation to man, without sacrificing the reverence for it as something inexpressible, the Orientals had recourse to the philosophy of Greece, and the Greeks to the mystical wisdom of the East. Now the more that men felt themselves, in this pursuit, constrained to take expressions in a figurative and mythical sense, the more would it be found that a free interpretation might be given to the olden philosophies, and that be- hind the more direct intention of the word, a deeper significancy might be discovered. It is obvious that such a conclusion must have greatly favoured the growing opinion, that in different formulas the same sense was conveyed; that fundamentally all, or at least all the most profound, philosophies agreed with each other : and especially when it was seen that more unanimity was to be found among them here, on the utmost limits of human inquiry, than in those investigations which were directed to the manifold phenomena of the universe. The dif- ference of opinion on the latter points might, it was believed, be overlooked by tliose who exclusively placed the essence of philosophy in the unveiling of the divine nature, as far as j)ossibh', but wlio at the 40 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. same time little considered how closely the investi- gation of mundane things is connected with a knowledge of divine. Accordingly, they concluded that all philosophy, in whatever shape it might have been originally conveyed, ultimately tended to one object, that which the most ancient sages had sought to reveal, and which alone had been acknowledged as truth, alike by Greeks and Jews, by Egyptians, Priests, Magi, and Gymnosophists; but under different forms, and in different degrees of purity. Thus there was effected a mixture of all religious doctrines, and all philosophical systems, which consequently brought about the loss of all rigour and distinctness of doctrine. A characteristic feature of this direction of mind is, a bigoted reverence for the antiquated in religious doctrines, rites, and ceremonies. Indeed, the higher they remounted to antiquity, the nearer it was be- lieved they approached to the divine. In remotest antiquity lay the origin of those religious senti- ments, out of which all the ancient religions had sprung, and there also, consequently, the purest efforts to express the views of the old religion were to be found. So long as a new religion was not ado{)ted, it was right and consistent to endeavour to return to the primary sense of this original. It was natural, therefore, that this direction of ideas, in which philosophical and religious were blended together, should also lead to a disposition to go back to the doctrines of the earliest philosophers. Now, it is easily conceivable, that in the attempt to reconcile these with each other, and to make them all subservient to one and the same end, a very SUPPOSED PRIMARY REVELATION. 41 arbitrar}'^ method of interpretation would be fol- lowed. But the credibility of the freest expo- sitions, both to their authors themselves, and to others, was greatly augmented by the opinion, which was daily gaining ground, that all tlie philosophical systems of Greece flowed from an older source — the teaching, viz. of Oriental sages, whose wisdom also was derived from a common centre — a revela- tion. To follow out the remotest traces of this revelation, which, alas, it was now idle to attempt directly to exhibit, and to give them again, wherever it was possible, in their original purity, and to repre- sent all true knowledge of the divinity, and of his relation to man as a broken ray of primitive wis- dom, was the problem which philosophers now took in hand to solve. How wide a field was here opened to conjectures, which, from the prevailing weakness of historical criticism, quickly came to be viewed as well-founded traditions ! spurious, supposititious works of every kind were produced in support of this tendency ; and the delusion was gradually formed that it was not impossible to discover one common source of all true knowledge among men. If, however, this knowledge is not to be found in its full purity among the later philosophers and in the existing generation, yet they must nevertheless possess a standard, by which the greater or less purity of diflerent doctrines may be estimated. Now, this couhl be no otlier tlian the general view of the age concerning that whicli ought to be wor- shipped as divine, and of its relations to the world ; and as this view was formed out of a religious necessity, the philosophical systems which appeared 42 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. to be most favourable to the religious element of life, would consequently be regarded as the trues expression of primal wisdom. In this spirit, the Pythagorean and Platonic S3^stems were especially preferred ; and the doctrine of Aristotle was also accommodated to this end. The Stoical, on the contrary, although much, perhaps the principal part, of its details, was borrowed for this purpose, contained many things which eluded every attempt of the kind ; its Materialistic view, for instance — its inexorable fate — the proud confidence of the sage in his own wisdom ; nevertheless, even from this, the endeavour was made to extract a germ of good. But the rigid exclusiveness of the Atomistic theory was the least capable of combining with the other views in this general fusion ; nevertheless we occa- sionally find the poetic apophthegms of Democritus, and the example of his life, adduced as testimonies to the truth. Thus, the less confidence men had in the energy of their own mind, the greater was their desire to accumulate authorities whose value was estimated not by their weight respectively, but by their number. The agreement of antiquity, or rather of all times, all nations, and all sages, was thought to constitute a tribunal, from which there was no appeal. It is to be observed, that this view of divine things, and of their relation to the world which was found in the Grseco- Oriental philosophy, was essentially different from the doctrines of the old Grecian philosophy, but that it was in perfect unison with the circumstances of the age. In the attempt to remount to the primary revelations of God, the opinion was gradually adopted, that the THEORY OF EMAXATION. 43 revelation of divine light, which illuminates man and the whole world, shone on the world more brightly in the early ages, but that it was gradually obscured by the guilt of mankind. The very ap- ])earance of the present state of things, and every comparison of it with the past, into wliich it was possible for man to enter, seemingly confirmed ihis opinion. Where was now that creative vigour of thouglit which had produced such great works, and had animated so many patient and fruitful re- searches? Every individual of the existing age was constrained to acknowledge himself a disciple of the past. To such a degree was mind asleep, that men could not conceive that others could ever have been inventive; it was merely supposed that they had possessed better traditions, and as they lived nearer to their origin, they were better able to seize their true meaning. It appeared, therefore, that the only course now left to man, was to remount from the better known, and more accessible, but troubled traditions of proximate times, to the ob- scurer but more pregnant revelations of the earliest ages, and by the necessary intermediate steps to acquire, as far as possible, a right understanding of the past. This procedure led to the view that the divine can only be revealed to man by a decreasing series of revelations, and as at the same time it was considered necessary to connect every thing with the divine, the idea was formed that to proceed through such a series was essential to the nature of God. Accordingly, it was thought that mankind and the world arc only mediately in connection with God, wlio is a l)eing shut out from, and inaccessible to. 44 REMARKS ON THK WHOLE PERIOD. man. This is the view on which was grounded the theory of emanations, which was generally dif- fused in the period we are now treating of, but which was wholly unknown to Grecian antiquity; a view which arose out of Oriental modes of thought, and harmonized particularly with the general opin- ions of the day. To the mind of the Greeks, the idea of an active creation appeared to be more nearly allied to the idea of perfection which they connected with that of deity, than it did to the Orientals. Accordingly, it was only in a very imperfect form, and almost entirely polemical, that the former could evolve the view which in modern times has been designated as the theory of immanence ; while the latter, on the contrary, introduced into philosophy the view which placed the supreme excellence of life in an absolute quietude of contemplation. They consequently would be the first to moot the question in explicit terms, whether the unrest of the mundane activity could ever be evolved out of the rest of the all-per- fect being. And of this question they would natu- rally seek to find such a solution, as making the world to emanate from God would leave him un- changed in his essence, and represent him as taking no further part in the emanation of the world than permitting it to proceed out of himself. These points, in short, constitute the essence of the doctrine of emanations, which supposes the world to emanate from God without any intervention of his activity : the emanation being not in God, but merely in some other entity. In what manner the further idea was herewith associated, that these CONTEMPT OF ACTIVE LIFE. 45 emanations must proceed through a decreasing series of entities, we have attempted to explain from the particular ideas which were prevalent in this age. In general, however, it ma}^ be said to have its source in a sense of evil predominating in the world, and in a belief that evil has not its origin in the divine essence. Thus, in fact, a question was warmly mooted, which previously had scarcely been discussed. The question of the origin of all things in God was brought forward in a more serious and definite form than had ever before been the case. But the way which, in this feeling of predomi- nant evil and of remoteness from God and his primary revelation, was applied in order to satisfy the requisitions of man's nature for an intimate union with the Godhead, was essentially different from that which the illustrious Greeks and Romans had believed it ri^-ht to follow. This union was not to be attained by a busy and active life. Activity in political affairs, or even in the sphere of private duties, was no longer recommended for the claims of social or domestic life, and stood very low in the estimate of the Orientals, and also of the Greeks who had adopted Oriental opinions. A higher view of political interests was impossible where there was no field for the active prosecution of them ; and as civil pursuits were preferred to all other active duties by the ancients, their estimate of external activity in general naturally fell with their low opinion of the former. Moreover, as outward nature is the necessary sj)h(re of active life, this opinion was further strengthened by thu fact, that the 46 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. Orientals looked upon matter and body as a limita- tion of spirit, as the principle of impurity, and the source of evil. By a due consequence, therefore, it was inferred that every action or occupation which had to do with the outward world, incurred the risk of pollution by its contact with the material. Even Plato had formerly asserted that the elaboration of the external, and even the consideration of it, is a work of necessity rather than of beauty. This view probably appeared a slighter deviation from the opinion of classical antiquity and the older Greek philosophers, than it would have been to express a contempt for the method of scientific reflection, or even to take a low estimate of its importance. For, occasionally, no doubt, the Greek philosophers did cast an unfavourable eye upon the admirers of the encyclic sciences ; but, on the other hand, the most eminent of them were not indisposed to admit their value as furnishing a true intellectual culture, and as forming the preparatory step to philosophy. But even their utility in this respect was denied by the Orientals, who could only see in them the negrative merit of withdrawing: the mind from the corporeal : they lead to no positive good, but merely accustom the mind to abstain. Now this abstinence is properly that which, as the right road, will lead to a higher intelligence, and the reception of the true revelation of the Godhead, i. e. as far as pos- sible a total abstinence from all pollution of mat- ter. The hio'hest attainable deo-ree of abstinence from sensual pleasure, and of mortification of the appetites, and purification of the flesh, was re- garded as the only means of attaining to happiness CONTEMPT OF ACTIVE LIFE. 47 and wisdom. It was hoped that as soon as tlie eye and every other sense were closed aaainst the material world, the spiritual vision and perception would be opened. The consequences of this opinion were as pernicious for the development of science, as for prac- tical life. While man withdrew himself from the duties of life, or, at most, discharged them merely as yielding to the force of necessity, in order to hold the higher opinion of himself, the more he despised them, the sciences which were connected with the realities of life naturally sunk in repute. Hence arose a dis- tinction between that which in science is subservient to the interests of life, or what in the ordinary conceptions of it must be steadily maintained, and that which recedes from it, and, on the other hand, looks to the ideal limits of all science. These last elements of science, constituting what in modern times have been called the transcendental, which seek to examine and determine the ideas of God and the world, were, by the philosophers of whom we have now to speak, separated from the former with a view to apprehend them in their pure and absolute nature. By this course they introduced a schism and contradiction into science, similar to that which they found existing in the world, where good and evil, matter and mind, are in perpetual collision. Even this might have been endured with patience, if they had not gone so far as to advise us to shut the eye against the evil principle, and to tie our hands in the presence of the enemy. For this they did when they sought to throw aside active life, which attacks matter. But they went even further, when they declared uU the occupation witli the sciences 48 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. which are connected with practical life, is only allowable so far as they are means of withdraw- ing man from its active duties. After this, it it is impossible to deny, that in the ideas and con- ceptions of these men, a confusion of the most heterogeneous elements prevails throughout. But while the}^ dissuaded man from the sensible, and considered the encyclic sciences merely as an instrument of withdrawing the mind from the false, but not of elevating it to the true, by what means did they hope to attain to the cognition of truth ? For this purpose they confided, as we said, with re- ligious reverence, in the olden traditions, which they attempted to trace, step by step, from old to older; and, as they believed that they could draw the same spirit from them all, the comparison and interpre- tation of them appeared the most important and profitable task that man could undertake. In many minds this reverence of the transmitted letter was not exempt from superstition ; for, generally, in the times of which we are speaking, and especially in this direction of mind, great stress was laid upon the secret power of words and signs, and on all such mystical arts of interpretation. But the ma- jorit}^ of those who had sincerely devoted themselves to philosophy, still saw that to understand the old traditions, they must be studied in a right spirit, and that ingenious trifling or laborious conceit, however busy with the outward form, which would hear words and see signs without a suspicion of their proper sense, could never lead to a right explication of them. They required that man should go with a pure heart and a pious faith, with zeal and with REVIVAL OF ANCIENT RELIGIONS. 49 intelligence, to consult the holy oracles of philoso- phers and prophets, if lie would draw from them the desired profit. To satisfy these conditions, a total withdrawal from the sensible world, and an exclusive contemplation of the pure essence of mind or reason, were held indispensable. Thus was established a simplification of man's essence and the object of contemplation ; and the importance acknowledged of that inward meditation, which the Orientals had recommended in so many ways. In this attempt to isolate himself from all external objects, man wished to interrupt the natural con- nection of all things, in order to set himself in a more elevated position. But as both were alike impossible, the natural consequence was an arbi- trary system of ideas, which, however, when ulti- mately analysed, was nothing less than a distorted image of the true connection of the inner and outer worlds as reflected by the broken mirror of a personal point of view. Now, that no true science could be realised by such a method is easily conceiv- able. The false and deceitful world, whose polluting contact man avoids, was itself made to be nothing- more than a delusion of the imagination, an abstract image of the sinful desires in which mankind were sunk, the guilty source of which man preferred to transfer from liimself to the outward world. The vei-y trntli whicli lay at the bottom of tlicsc errors, had no otlier origin than the sense of the weakness, both of life and piinciplc, in which the ancient na- tions were plunged, and the desire to which it gave rise for the formation of a higlier and more ener- getic principle of life. IV. E 50 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. Christianit}', as we previously remarked, was des- tined to form and to animate this new principle for the further development of humanity. To prove this assertion at large, is the proper province of a complete history of humanity, of which that of phi- losophy is but a part. But a general proof of it is furnished by the simple fact, that all the nations from whom the advancement of modern civilization proceeded, were shaped by the Christian religion, both in customs and institutions, in sentiments and science : and the history of philosophy itself con- tributes its testimony to the justness of the asser- tion, since it shows that the progress of modern philosophy resulted from Christianity, being essen- tially designed to find a science consonant to Christian sentiments and ideas. However, this result of the history of philosophy does not at present lie before us, and it is only in the consideration of Christian philosophy that it can be gradually illus- trated. But even in the phenomena which accom- panied the close of ancient philosophy, with which we are at present concerned, we discover at least a preparation for the Christian character of thought, which was furnished by the longing after something better than any thing that could be found in the existing state of intelligence. But, at the same time, we must admit, that most of the heathens who felt this longing, failed to seize the right means to satisfy it ; they looked for good, not in promises of the future, but in the realities of the past, in which lay the glory of the olden nations. Hence their adhesion to olden superstitions and idolatry ; their confidence in the sufiiciency of olden rites and ASCENDANCY OF GR.^CO-ORIENTALISM. 51 external sacrifices to atone for sin and appease the wrath of the gods ; hence, too, their impotent resist- ance to the new sentiments and direction of mind, which they hoped to put down by a mixture of philosophical ideas with the religious aspirations of antiquity. Even where a hope was indulged of a later and more perfect revelation, it was entertained in agreement with ancient ideas, and a national revelation was looked for, which was to be ac- companied by a restoration of the olden splendour and renown of the people. The old philosophy, with its olden sentiments and ideas, had not as yet learned to renounce that olden spirit of nationality to which they owed their origin and character. Nevertheless, this longing was itself the pre- paration of Christianity. It is on this account that the particular development of philosoph}^ in which this desire expressed itself, was more immediately the object of this period than that of the Gra^.co-Romish philosophy, and accordingly its duration was the longer. In its disputes with Christianity the olden philosophy became purely heathenish, and yet even in this form was con- strained to give its testimony to the truth and excellence of the new religion, by exhibiting itself as a distorted image of it. On the other liand, it quickly united in itself all the pliilosojjhical im- pulses whicli the close of the olden nations revealed ; and, as early as tlie I)oginning of the third century, it had decidedly assumed the superiority over all other species of philosophy. At this date the litera- ture of Rf)rric was sunk in greater insignificance than ever, and with it the Gra'co-Hoinan philo- E 2 52 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. sophy liad naturally declined. As the Roman empire gradually lost its Roman character, the opinion, that the bloom of nations and the true revelation were to be found only in remote antiquity, gained strength and support. For the Romans, so long as their nationality was preserved, would natu- rally be indisposed towards such a view, since the date of their national splendour was too recent, and the narratives of its rise had assumed too strictly an historical character to be easily adjusted to such mythical sources. All the energy still surviving in the olden notions, centred all its efforts at self- defence in its resistance to the Christian religion. Having thus indicated at length the nature of those circumstances, in the midst of which the philosophical activity of the period was developed, the suitable division of our subject will readily suggest itself. The beginning of the third century A.D. forms a remarkable epoch in the history of this period. The opposition which existed between the Grecian and Oriental characters, and also between the several philosophical sects of Greece, now ceases almost entirely. Stoics and Epicureans, Sceptics and Cynics, and all others, by whatever names they may choose to be called, scarcely evince a sign of life. The Platonic and the Aristotelian philo- sophy alone continues in repute, being treated, for the most part, as doctrines of correspondent views; and it is rarely that we meet with an occasional preference, and still more rarely with the slightest symptom of controversy. The opposition between them was indeed a very secondary matter. The dis- putes of the several sects were hushed in the general DIVISION AND ARRANGEMENT. 53 struggle of heathenism with Christianity, in which the latter sought to equip itself with the whole force of the earlier philosophical enlightenment, so far as it is available for the contest, and thereby raised the olden philosophy to eminent importance. Its voice is heard with a vigour, and with a more youthful fire than it had exhibited for longi Now, this fire is maniifested in a thorough prosecution of tJiat philo- sophy, which, by the application of no little inge- nuity, brought into firm connection whatever the Grseco-Oriental philosophy had previously effected in tJie same direction, though only in isolated ideas, and with little rigour of consequence. But it was more the flight of a bold fancy, which painted in fairer colours the past, and the importance of philosophy, than a sober insight into its true nature ; an extra- vagance, ratlier than a sound vigour, which impelled men to this prosecution of the neo-Platonism, and consequently it quickly sank either into subtle sophistry or the darkest superstition. Accordingly, this period falls into two great por- tions. The first portion, however, contains two essentially distinct but cotemporaneous elements — the Graeco-Roman and the Graeco-Oriental philo- sophies. The Greek philosophy spread, nearly at the same time, over both the East and the West. Nevertheless, the Grseco-Roman has the prior claim to our attention, partly, because by its character it is more nearly allied to the earlier Greek philo- sophy, and also because it died off earlier tlian the Graeco-Oriental, which in this period forms little more than the preparation for the more glorious unfolding of tin; same tendency in neo-Platonism. 54 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. To mix up together the consideration of these two tendencies, from merely chronological considera- tions, would be to mistake the difference of their cha- racters and their importance respectively. The Grseco-Roman philosophy, to give a brief character of it, may be defined as an erudite Eclecticism, with a predominantly practical tendency. The Grseco- Oriental, does, it is true, present no less the charac- ter of erudition ; it is, however, wholly and com- pletely devoid of that historical sense which seeks to seize and exhibit differences : the mystical view which predominates in it, attempts to draw into a common indistinctness of a misty outline whatever is not directly opposed to itself. The Graeco- Roman philosophy indicates, tlierefore, that aspect of the decline of the philosophical spirit under which it resembles an aged frame, which has out- lived the principle of its vitality, and all its mem- bers are ossifying. All its doctrines are quickly transformed into bare formulae, or lifeless words. The Grseco-Oriental, onheot her hand, gives us the picture of a gradual dissolution of all organic forms — an indeterminate decay which we formerly com- pared with the sinking of the living body into foul- ness and corruption. As to the arrangement of the several topics in each of these sections, we shall experience some difficulty in the first, from an almost total want of movement and progress. The Graeco-Roman philo- sophy exhibits almost nothing but the stiff form of erudition ; and accordingly in this portion of our labours we shall be driven very reluctantly to adopt the form almost of a mere history of literature. For DIVISION AND ARRANGEMENT. 55 we shall have little more to do, on the whole, than to trace the diffusion of Grecian philosophy among the Romans, to exhibit its fluctuating fortunes, and to point out the modifications which the Roman character gave to it, withput, at the same time, imparting to it any further development. The works of by far the greater number of the writers who belong to this part of our history are lost ; all we find concerning them are a few scattered notices ; at times we have nothing more to adduce than bare names, or a few circumstances connected with their personal history. Of many individuals we know that they belonged to this or to that sect, merely from the circumstance of their having other- wise played an important part in the memorable history of their time. Even those whose philosophi- cal writings have come down to us, have, for the most part, to thank chance for this favour, rather than any great influence that they exercised on the philo- sophy of their age, or for the importance which for other reasons may be ascribed to them as parts of Roman literature, or as treatises on the special sciences or morals, or as illustrating the history of their times. And yet we cannot pass them over (entirely in silence, because they did, undoubtedly, contribute in some measure to the diffusion of i)hilo- sophy, and in some degree determined the shape in wiiich it has been transmitted to modern times, and in which it acquired an influence on special sciences, and on life itself. Moreover this portion of our subject fiiUs naturally into many isolated details, since, as we formerly mentioned, the several schools were continued without exercising any vital iiiniunce 56 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. on each other. In this period the case was nearly as it was in the first age of Grecian philosophy, when also several schools were developed side by side without mutually understanding each other; but the causes which produced the same pheno- menon in the two periods were widely difierent. In the earlier period it arose from the natural desultoriness of youthful efforts, the want of a general survey of the whole domain of science, and of facilities of intellectual communication ; but in the present times, the separation of the schools was owing to want of inventive energy. The clearest and most decided expression of this want is con- tained in the Sceptical school, whose chief art con- sisted in bringing into juxta-position the different views of the several sects, and in submitting the arguments respectively advanced by them to the test of a traditional standard, without being in the least moved by the truth which a particular view might contain. It affords, moreover, the purest specimen of the erudite method of treating philosophy ; on which account the exposition of its doctrines appears to form the most appropriate close of the first part of the first section, and an easy transi- tion to the consideration of the Grseco-Oriental. There cannot be a more striking contrast than that which exists between the Sceptics and this forerunner of the new Platonists, The former sought to throw out in the strongest light the conflicting opinions of philosophy, insisting, for the most part, upon verbal differences merely, which moreover they laboured to make still more pointed. The latter, on the con- trary', sought to fuse together the most opposite DIVISION AND ARRANGEMENT. 57 doctrines, rarely striving to penetrate to the inner core and deeper meaning, and industriously soften- ing the points of difference. The Sceptics allowed the old customs of worship to remain, merely because, with their own want of all-fixed opinions, they yet deemed it advisable to comply in outward forms with the general opinion ; but it was only the external forms of religion that they maintained, for they hoped by so doing to afford no |;room Tor any gainsaying of philosophy. The Greek-Oriental philosophers, on the contrary, showed the greatest zeal possible for religion ; to its rites they ascribed great value, while fundamentally they changed its significance, and placed; their general , philo- sophical view in every form of religion, Jiowever peculiarly developed. If the Sceptics of this period rejected the olden philosophy, they yet were far from wishing thereby to abandon all the enlightenment of the olden times, but were willing to appropriate to themselves whatever in it was of service for the practical ends of existence and for the advancement of the useful arts. The Gra^co-Oriental philosophy, on the other hand, set little value by the useful arts, and it is only the philosophy and the science of old which raises itself above the common view of life, that appeared to them a worthy object of pursuit. In this way does the period under review exiiibit the dissolution of the olden enlightenment into its several elements ; it is only in its exclusive direc- tion, that it is any longer maintained, but without any j)ower or knowledge to understand and to appropriate the proper coherence of its parts. Now ill tliis development of the Grteco- Roman 58 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. philosophy, we may distinguish two aspects, accord- ing as one or other of the two elements which are contained in it — the learned tradition or the practi- cal object — obtain the preponderance. In the pre- dominance of practical objects, we distinctly trace the influence of the Roman character, which reveals itself especially in the leaning to the Stoical doc- trine, with which also the Cynical school is closely connected. Now as this effect of the Roman cha- racter is felt most strongly in the beginning of this period, but afterwards dies gradually away, it will be most proper to begin with the consideration of this aspect of the Grseco-Roman philosophy. On the other hand, the Roman character does not parti- cipate so decidedly in the predominantly erudite transmission of philosophy, and this consequently is not so exclusively confined to the districts in which the Roman element preponderated. The Orien- talists, indeed, contributed their share thereto; but the effects of this cannot be traced at all accurately. As to the close of this period, as already indicated, it is most appropriately marked by the Sceptical school. In the second part of the first section, in which we propose to treat of the Grgeco-Oriental philo- sophy, at its first appearance and in the fragmen- tary phenomena in which it ran parallel with the Grseco-Roman, it will be impossible to avoid entering again upon the obscure domain of Eastern opinions ; for as the Orientals did not, like the Romans, merely adopt the pliilosophy of Greece, but added to it new contributions of their own, it is indispensable to trace the origin of these additions. For whether INDIAN PHILOSOPHY. 59 we embrace the opinion of those who liold that the Orientals could not, without a stimulus from Greece, have produced a philosophical doctrine, or that other opinion, that they did evolve a philosophy of their own, or lastly maintain with others that all that has been given out as a philosophy of the East, bears falsely this name, — it cannot, at all events, be denied, especially now that modern research has thrown some light upon the Indian character, that a doctrine is found among them which may as justly lay claim to the title of philosophy, as the writings of Democritus or Epicurus. And it is very pro- bable that the development of this species of philo- sophical doctrine had already begun at the time when the Oriental habit of thouoht first exercised an influence on Grecian philosophy ; and that it also, though perhaps indirectly, afforded a stimu- lus to the Graeco-Oriental philosophy. But here we must confess the disadvantage we lie under, both from our inability to draw our account of this philosophy from original sources, unable either to inform ourselves as to the Oriental, and from the incomplete and unsatisfactory nature of all the information that we possess at second hand. This disadvantage is peculiarly felt, when we at- attempt to show on sure grounds in what way the connection between it and Grecian philosophy was brought about. For every thing relating to these points is involved in the general obscurity which prevails on all the vital topics connected with the historical development of Oriental anticpiity : and, accordingly, we would wiliinj^ly, if such a course were at all allowiibh", cither altogether 60 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. omit this portion of our work, or commit it to other hands. Eut the former course appeared dis- honest both towards others and ourselves, and to resemble the habit of infants, when in an uncertain light they catch an indistinct view of any object, to close their eyes in fear. The latter course was impossible, since the labours of Orientalists on the philosophy of the East have furnished hitherto nothing more than a mass of undigested materials ; or else they have gone to work so uncritically with whatever they took in hand, that we could not with confidence adopt the results of their speculations. Treating, for the most part, of matters which belong- to uncertain tradition, or else merely seeking to elucidate fragmentary parts of history, it is with clumsy and unpractised hands that they apply the standard of historical connection, which the history of the West presents. Accordingly the only course that remains, is to use our best endeavours to give as far as possible a faithful account of all those ele- ments in the eastern habit of thought, which appear to us capable of having spontaneously acquired a philosophical form. This, however it may seem to be a digression from our main subject, is an indis- pensable portion of the history of Grecian phi- losophy, which may be passed over by all who are satisfied that they possess a correct knowledge of eastern ideas, and that they are capable of rightly estimating their influence on Grecian opinions. The other matters which make up this second part of our first section admit of an easy division, although it will sometimes be difficult lucidly to expose the connection of the several details, in ccn- INDIAN PHILOSOPHY. 61 sequence of the fragmentary nature of our infor- mation, which again may, it is not improbable, have had its source in a want of connection in the events themselves. On the one hand, we shall have to show how the Grecian philosophy affected the Oriental mind ; and, on the other, how the Greeks were moved by Oriental ideas to give another direction to their philosophic view. The two parts seem chronologically to follow in this order ; at least we find among the Orientals, who had imbibed the civilization of Greece, a decided disposition to that mixture of different modes of thought, which will here come under consideration, long before we can discover any appearance of it among the Greeks ; and this fact may perhaps favour an analogical inference that a similar tendency had been previously evinced by the pure Orientals also. Now the disposition of the Greeks for Oriental ideas aptly introduces our second section; it forms the natural transition to it : for we shall here find Oriental and Greek elements so combined as out- wardly to give to the compound a thoroughly Greek character. This section proceeds in a more connected course than the first does, and on this account more amply repays historical research. It is also more fruitful in philosophical ideas, or, at least, in attempts to place the problems of philo- sophy in a new light. Moreover, the sources both for the internal and external history of the philosophy in this period, are more abundant ; for the philoso- pliy of the (jrreeks now again assumed, in the course of development, an imj)ortant and prominent posi- tion. Having to enter into a contest which at this 62 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. time agitated the whole world, it naturally attempted to exhibit itself as a worthy rival of Christianity : the consciousness of this importance, — the endea- vour to exhibit to the people of those days their ancient religion in a worthy light, and by its olden illumination to satisfy the religious want which now began to make itself generally felt, — the zeal which was communicated to philosophical investigao n by this religious sentiment, animated and invigorated, for a long time, the neo- Platonic school. In its history, indeed, we shall see the old philosophy brought, in a certain degree, into collision with Christianity and its literature; so as in this respect to raise a doubt whether it would not be expedient henceforward to discuss the ancient and Christian philosophy, in con- nection with each other, rather than to adhere to our former determination, to treat the two separately : however, several important reasons confirm us in our first design. In the first place, it is desirable to exhibit, in a progressive series, and consequently in the greatest possible purity, the effect produced by Christian sentiments and ideas on philosophy. With this wish is associated the consideration, that whatever regard the neo-Platonists paid to Christianity, is only external, adopting nothing from it but what appeared to be previously existing in the ancient sentiments of the Greeks, Romans, and Orientals, and merely attacking that which lay on the surface of its phenomenon — its humble form, for instance, which was directly opposed to the pride and splendour of the olden civilization — and never suspecting the profound meaning which lay beneath this unpretending veil. Lastly, we are furtlier con- CHRISTIANITY AND NEO-PLATONISM. 63 firmed in our design by the fact, that the neo- Platonic school, from its formation down to Plo- tinus, takes scarcely any notice of Christianity, and does not seem to have been further in- fluenced by it than was inevitable in the general movement of mind in a religious direction, on which, moreover, the propagation of the whole school was dependent. With much more confidence we may assert, that Christian philosophy was influ- enced by the first commencement of neo-Platonism, than that conversely the rudiments of the former influenced the latter ; we shall have, therefore, no occasion, in the history of our first section, to take for granted any thing of Christian philosophy ; it is only an acquaintance with the outward appearance of Christianity, as it is difl'used among us, that must occasionally be tacitly assumed. But it lay in the very nature of the thing, that Christianity and the views and tendencies which flowed from it into philosophy, should, in the course of time, assume a greater influence. The diff*usion of its spirit over the whole life of the people of antiquity was necessarily followed by an extension of its influence on philosophy ; and as this gradually increased, it at last, by due consequence, subverted the several systems of heathen philosophy. We cannot, therefore, wonder that the spread of Chris- tianity shoidd overthrow the autliority of neo- Platonism, and that the dissensions which arose witiiin the Christian church, which, by running out into subtle disputations, favoured a formal dialectic, should have awakened, even in the nco- Platonic school, and also gencnilly, greater attention than 64 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. had latterly been shown to writings of Aris- totle. Before we proceed to details, we have yet a few words to say in general, on the outward circumstances attending the cultivation of philosophy in this period. Throughout the whole of the second period, Athens had been the chief seat of philosophy. It is true that during this period occasional branches of the dif- ferent schools sprung up in other Greek cities and colonies, and that towards its close, when philosophy had already been taught in many places of Asia and in Egypt, the most distinguished teachers removed the scene of their philosophical labours to Rome, Rhodes, and Alexandria : nevertheless, the ancient glory of Athens, as being the chief seat of philosophy, was not yet wholly eclipsed. It was in the third period that the rudest and most decided shock was given to its prerogative, although ancient prescription still attracted many teachers and stu- dents of philosophy to Athens, and thereby, from time to time, infused new life into the Athenian school. In these changes external considerations had naturally the chief influence ; since, wherever the inner principle of life is weak, outward im- pulses, whether the favour or the displeasure of the great, work the more powerfully. Nevertheless, these alone cannot rule, and still less shape, the life of philosophy : it is only here and there that they penetrate into its outward form, and a middle result is produced by the joint action of internal and external incitements. A general sketch of these will not be without its interest for the period before us. ATHENS AS A SEAT OF PHILOSOPHY. 65 Athens, Alexandria, and Rome, in particular, played an important part at this period in the diffu- sion of philosophy : the fortunes of each of these cities were alike variable. First of all, Athens at the beginning of this period was depressed by the misfortunes which it suffered in consequence of the victory of Sylla. This event seems to have been a principal cause why the chief teachers of philosophy left Athens, at least for a time, and taught at Rome, Alexandria, and Rhodes. This, as we me.itioned, was, at all events, the case with the Stoic Posidonius, and with the Academicians, Philo and Antiochus. When it had become the fashion of the leading Romans to have philosophers in their suite, and when philosophical schools had been established throughout the whole extent of Asia, Eg3qDt, the Roman provinces of Africa and Europe, the autho- rity which attached to Athenian philosophy very naturally declined. There were now philosophical schools whose reputation occasionally threw a shade over the renown of Athens : thus Athens was unable to adduce any eminent teacher of the Stoi- cal school, whose chief seat was now at Rhodes, where Posidonius, and his disciple Jason after him, taught.^ Marseilles was a long time the chosen seat of learning, to which the Romans sent their young men for instruction in rhetoric and philoso- phy.^^ Nevertheless, in the last times of Roman freedom, Athens was again the high school of the philosophical sects, and the spot where most of the Romans acquired their knowledge of philosophy. * Suid. sec. v. 'laawv. » Strab, iv., p, 2.01, ed. Taucliri. IV. F 66 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. Here, in the times of Cicero, the Epicurean school flourished under Phsedrus and Patro,^ the Academy under Antiochus and his brother Aristo,' and some- what later, the Peripatetic school under Cratippus.^ Yet all these sects appear about this time to have fallen into decay at Athens ; many teachers and students still resorted thither, but we hear little of them, and nothing that is important. The violence of the times may perhaps have had an unfavourable effect on the schools of Athens.^ The Caesars of the first century seem to have been unfavourably disposed towards it : upon the accession, however, of Hadrian to the imperial throne, the liberality which he showed towards the learned generally, was also extended to the rhetoricians and philosophers of Athens ; many received liberal presents from him, and he also established a library at Athens.^° Mar- cus Aurelius and Antoninus Pius gave similar encouragement to this ancient seat of the sciences. They appointed teachers of rhetoric and philosophy,^^ with liberal endowments, which were continued under succeeding emperors, and quickly assumed the appearance of legal institutions.^^ By these means a regular institution of philosophical instruc- tion was established, in which the four leading * Cic. ad Div. xiii. 1 ; de Fin. v. ]. "> Cic. ad Att. V. 10 ; Ac. i. 3 ; de Fin. v. 3 ; Tusc. v. 8 ; Brat. 97 ; Plut. V. Brut. 2, where Aristo is wrongly read, « Cic. de Div. i. 3 ; ad Div. xii. 16 ; xvi. 21 ; de Off. i. 1. * Thus we hear something of the school of the Epicureans. Cic. ad Div. iii. 1. From this it is manifest that the Romans 'exercised an early influence on the fortunes of the philoso^ihical schools. 10 Pausan. i. 1 8, fin. » Capitol. Ant. Pius c. 11 ; Philostr. v. Soph. ii. 2, 20;.Dio Cass. Ixxi. 31. '* Eunap. v. Soph. i. p. 138, ed. Commel. ROME. 67 schools, the Platonists, Peripatetics, Stoics, and Epicureans, had each two teachers, who, in addition to a considerable salary, received fees from their scholars. ^^ How this establishment was modified by- later circumstances, and the spirit of the times, will be more appropriately indicated after we shall have taken a view of the state of Rome and Alexandria. Upon the decay of the Athenian schools, the union of the Grecian with Roman and Oriental ideas, naturally excercised a considerable influence. Rome and Alexandria, on the contrar}^ profited by it, and it was in these two cities, that for a long time philosophy was most extensively and success- fully cultivated. Rome being now the capital of the empire of the world, attracted the teachers of philosophy from all sides. Nevertheless no school of philosophy properly so called, was formed there ; still it is not easy to find a single eminent philoso- pher who from some cause or other, was not led to visit Rome, and to sow there the seeds of his doc- trine. That this was not the case immediately and in a higher degree at the very opening of the present period, is attributable to circumstances alone. The prevailing taste of the Romans for Grecian literature with whicli pliilosophy was so inseparably connected, as to make it almost indis- pensable for every educated person to have at least a superficial acquaintance with it,'^ greatly pro- " This salary amounted to 10,000 ilrachma.s ; the fee for teaching docs not seem to liave lieen fixed. Luc. Hermot. ix. Eunuch, ii. iii. ; Eunap. i. 1. mentions only six teachers of philosophy. '* Tac. Hist. IV. .5. F 2 68 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. moted its interests. And these were still further advanced by the utility which was ascribed to it for forming the oratorical character,^^ and by a belief that comfort and support were to be found in it for all the political misfortunes of the times.^^ At first, indeed, its progress was impeded by the jealous eye with which the older Romans looked upon its in- troduction as a strange and dangerous innovation, and which, on several occasions, caused the Grecian philosophers to be banished from Rome.^' But such measures could not long be of any avail, and their effects must for the most part be confined to the lower classes, whereas the rich and noble were not restrained by law from seeking instruction from Grecian philosophy. The latter, perhaps, in the times of the first emperors, may have been deterred from philosophical pursuits by the opinion that philosophy, and especially the Stoical and Cynical doctrines which were most consonant to the character of the Romans, was dangerous to the tyranny of those in power, and generally to a monarchy. This opinion rendered the presence of the phi- losophers at Rome disagreeable to the Caesars of the first century, when almost every thing depended on imperial favour, and even caused Domitian to expel them from Rome and Italy,^^ and the reputa- tion of being a Stoic was universally shunned, as » Tac. de Orat. 32 ; Cic. Orat. 3. >« Cic. ad Att. ii. 5, 9, 13. &c. Tac Hist. i. 1, Ann. xvi. 34. " Sueton. de Clar. Rhet. 1 ; Gell. xv. 11; Athen. xii. 68. p. 547 ; Aelian. v. h. ix. 12. '« Gell. i. 1. Suet. Domit. 10; Dio Cass. Ixvii. 13. The banishment of the philosophers from Rome under Vespasian, was not universal. Dio Cass. IxW. 13. ALEXANDRIA. 69 sure to entail upon its possessor accusation and death. ^^ But with the commencement of a milder rule and one friendly disposed to science and letters, philosophy was again taught at Rome with greater zeal than ever ; and, reviving under Trajan even, it flourished still more when Hadrian and the Anto- nines assembled around them the learned of every class and pursuit. From this date Rome became, for a considerable period, the chief seat of philosophical doctrines, and in later times attracted the neo- Platonists as zealously as it had formerly afforded an asylum for the teachers of the older schools. Not less important as a school of philosophy, but in a different respect, was Alexandria in Egypt. It is well known how learning in general flourished here under the Ptolemies, although at first with little profit to philosophy. But as soon as philoso- phy began to be pursued as a matter of mere lite- rature, it quickly passed into the course of studies which were prosecuted at Alexandria, whose critical labours on the ancient authors had also comprised the history of philosophy or rather of philosophers.^" But it was only towards the close of the Ptolemaic dynasty that distinguished teachers of philosophy resorted thither ; and under the dominion of tlie Romans, Alexandria became an influential school, not only of erudition but also of philoso})hical development. The literary treasures which were preserved there, tlic meetings of the learned in the Museum which was maintained and indeed enlarged " Tac. Ann. xiv. 57 ; xvi. 22. '" This waH the common object of the labours of Sotion a'ld Sphierus, Apol- lodorus and Satyrus, two disciples of Aristarchus. 70 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. by the Roman emperors,^^ the great commerce of the city, all contributed to render Alexandria one of the chief seats of science and literature ; ac- cordingly we meet there with teachers of every kind of philosophy. ^^ The Stoical philosophy, which had now established its authority in all parts of science, was disseminated by numerous teachers, some of whom were not without eminence ; a series of commentators on Aristotle, whose views were authoritatively appealed to by later interpreters, stretched to the times of the famous Alexander of Aphodisias and the emperor Caracalla who from a mad hatred of Aristotle persecuted the Peripatetics of Alexandria. ^^ The Platonic philosophy also must certainly have had its teachers, since we dis- cover a strong predilection for it in Alexandria. The same may be said of the Pythagorean philoso- phy ; and we also discover traces of a reproduction of the doctrines of Heraclitus. Amid such learned labours with all the branches of philosophy and science, the gradual rise of a new Scepticism was nothing singular. But it is not so much these labours of erudition that constitute the importance of Alexandria in the history of philosophy, as the development which it gave to the mixed Greek and Oriental views. It was not, it is true, exclusively their birth-place, but no place was so well fitted to furnish them with food. For here, where all nations 21 Strab. xvii. p. 427 ; Suet. Claud. 42. ^2 For brevity's sake I refer to Matter Essai Historique sur I'^cole d'Alex- andrie, torn, 2. chap. viii. p. 116, sqq. whose statements, however, must be used with great caution. »3 Die. Cass. Ixxvii. 7. cf. ib. 23. ALEXANDRIA. 71 were collected together by traffic and commerce, in the neighbourhood of one of the much lauded springs of eastern wisdom, and where at the same time Grecian science was cultivated in its utmost range, and invested moreover with every circum- stance of external splendour, a strong disposition to effect a union of Greek and Oriental ideas sprung up almost of necessity. Accordingly, it is at Alex- andria that we first discover numerous and decided traces of such a design. Even here, however, the earliest symptoms of this mode of thought are very obscure ; probably because it was among the lower classes of the people, and not among the ruling Greeks but the conquered Orientals, that the earliest attempts of this kind were made ; and we have to tliank the zeal of the Christian teachers for what- ever was in any way connected with the development of our religion, for all the knowledge that we pos- sess of the progress of a philosophy which, at the beginning of our period, was already formed among the .Jews of Alexandria. Philo the Jew is the first certain point for its history ; but the maturity and precision of the view which v/e find in his writinos. excludes all doubt tliat he had precursors in it, among whom we may perhaps venture to reckon Aristeas and Aristobulus. This process which was going on among those Jews who were conversant with Greek literature, in all probability took place among otlier Orientals also, and from them passed over to the (Greeks and Romans. For such a fusion of diHe- rent views, Alexandria was perhaps in no small degree i)icpared by the strong disposition which she had i)reviously evinced for an Eclectical ])liilo- 72 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. sophy,^* and it is therefore very natural that Alex- andria should have been the seat where neo-Pla- tonism was first cultivated and acquired shape and consistency under the hands of Ammonius Saccas and Plotinus. From hence it spread rapidly wherever Grecian philosophy was studied. In Rome, Plotinus founded its school ; and in Athens it seems to have gained a firm footing soon after its first teaching there by Longinus. Nevertheless the old philosophy declined at Alexandria, probably in consequence of the prevalence of Christianity. About 391 a.d. the Serapium, a principal seat of the heathen religion and philosophy, was pillaged and destroyed during a bloody fight of parties; and all the heathen tem- ples of Alexandria were at the same time con- verted into churches and cloisters.^'^ Alexandria however still retained its teachers of philosophy. We have already mentioned that the liberality of the Antonines had restored Athens to one of the principal seats of philosophical instruction. But the Stoical and Epicurean schools displayed little energy, notwithstanding that the former enjoyed, in a special degree, the imperial favour. So little does patronage avail for the promotion of mental develop- ment, even in the worst days of its decline. ^^ The neo-Platonic and the Peripatetic, on the other ^* No reliance can be placed on what is said of the Eclectical school of Po- tamon by Diog. L. i. 21 ; Suid. s. v. aiptrng vel nora/xwv, and also Pophyr. v. Plot. sect. 6. of the Basle edition ; but still the way in which the Alex- andrian Christians cultivated an Eclectical philosophy, which at first evinced a leaning to Stoicism, Clem. Alex. Strom, i. p. 288 ; vi. p. 642, ed. Par. 1641, appears to justify the assertion of the text. ^■^ Neander's Church History, ii. I. p. 161, sqq. ^* The Platonic school possessed a private property, which was very consider- able down to the times of Proclus. Phot. Cod. 242. p. 565. Hoesch. REVIVAL OF PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS AT ATHENS. 73 hand, were flourishing. Even though the neo- Platonists of greatest renown did not exclusively teach at Athens, still the Academy there always had at its head eminent men, who by showy if not substantial attainments, spread far and wide the reputation of their sect. By a process of Eclecticism the neo-Platonists were connected with the Peripatetics, whose labours were, for the most part, confined to the exposition of their great master's works. Thus did Athens become once more the centre of rhetorical and philosophical studies which were attached to the olden civiliza- tion, and this became more completely the case as Christianity advanced rapidly in the other princi- pal seats of learning, Rome, Constantinople, and Alexandria. The olden civilization of antiquity seems to have concentrated itself at Athens as a stronghold whence to defy all attacks. Here she was exposed to the most fearful trials. For not alone had she to endure the persecutions which the Christian Caesars inflicted on the heathen philoso- phers,^^ but also the inroads of the German races brought a terrible visitation on Athens when Greece was wasted by Alaric. The ancient seats of Greek philosophy now appeared to be for ever laid waste ;^^ nevertheless tliey revived yet once again, and a great number of disciples from every region of the Roman empire, not heathens only, but also Christians, sought there general learning and practice in tiic rhetorical *> The Emperor Con»tantine withdrew the allowances of the teachers of philosophy, which, however, were restored by Julian, and suffered to rem.iin by Valentiniiin. " Syncs. Ep. l.'i'i; Eunap. v. Soi>h. y. 03, Differently, however, Zosini. V. 5, 6. . , 74 REMARKS ON THE WHOLE PERIOD. art. Human institutions come to an end from the want of an inward vital energy, rather than from any unfavourable pressure of external circum- stances. And thus it was that ancient philosophy died away solely from its own inertness and lan- guor. To trace the steps of this decay, belongs to another place, and we must be content here with remarking that the outward bearings, even of the philosophical schools of the fourth century of our era, distinctly reveal their inward weakness and corruption. They presented the wildest scenes of irregularity and disorder. The teacher sought distinction in the applause of numerous scholars whom he sought to win by every unworthy means, and to retain by factious fraternities of country and classes. Pre-eminence was contended for, not by intellectual weapons, but by the force of lungs and partizanship, and the strife of parties broke out at times, even into deeds of violence and bloodshed.^^ The philosophical schools having fallen into in- trinsic corruption, the formal closing of the schools by the emperor Justinian a.d. 520, accomplished what was wanting to silence the olden philosophy for ever.^*^ ^^ See Schlosser on the Universities, Students, and Professors of the Greeks in the time of Julian and Theodosius, in the Archiv. fur Gesch. u. Litt.^^ Schlos- ser and Bercht. i. 217, sqq. 3° Johann. Malala^xviii. p. 451. ed. Bonn. Procop. h. arc, 26. c. not. Alem. PART I.— SECT. I. GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. CHAPTER II. COMMENCEMENT OF PHILOSOPHY AMONG THE ROMANS. Even when opposition from political considera- tions to the philosophy of Greece was strongest, a taste for her arts and literature had taken deep root in the minds of the most distinguished of the states- men of Rome. The futility, therefore, of all pro- hibitory measures against the natural course of things, must have been evident, if only the eyes of Roman statesmen had been open to the close con- nection subsisting between the literature and philo- sophy of Greece. The very fact that the M. Por- tius Cato, who caused the abrupt dismissal of the Greek pliilosophers, and who openly avowed him- self the opponent of foreign learning, did neverthe- less apply himself in his old age to the study of the Greek language,^ is frequently quoted as the tri- umph of Grecian civilization. However this may be, it is notorious that Cato failed in his design, what- ever may have been the motive of his hostility to ' Cic. de Sen. 1,8; Plut. v. Cat. Maj. 2, 22, 23. The ardent fondness for Greek literature, which Cicero ascribes to the ohler Cato, appears to me sus- picious. Indeed the whole story is full of difficulties; for Cato was already far advanced in years when the Athenian embassy arrived at Rome. 76 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. Grecian philosophy; for the individuals who are expressly named by Cicero as its earliest patrons among the Romans, in all probability received their first taste for it from the lessons of the Grecian ambassadors.^ These were no less eminent charac- ters than a P. Scipio Africanus, and his friend C. Loelius the wise : with these, Cicero occasion- ally associates L. Furius.^ These men of consular dignity afforded to the later Romans an example of friendly and intimate intercourse, with the scholars and philosophers of Greece. Scipio kept for a long- time in his train the Stoic Pansetius, who was also admitted to the familiar society of Lcelius, who had previously been a hearer of Diogenes of Baby- lon. Panaetius appears to have exercised great influence on the formation of the philosophical character of the Romans ; for besides the illustrious individuals above named, many other eminent statesmen and lawyers are numbered among his disciples, Q. iElius Tubero, for instance, and Q. Mucins Scaevola.^ When we call to mind the nature of the philosophical labours of PanjBtius, we feel justified in assuming that he initiated the Romans in the Platonic, as well as in the Stoical philosophy, since he was a great admirer of Plato, and even of many members of the later Academy. Cicero, at least, takes it for granted that the dis- ciples of Pangetius, whom he introduces in his dialogue on the State, were well acquainted with « Cic. Tusc. iv. 3. ^ j)e Orat. ii. 37. * Cic. Brut. 31 ; pro Murena 36 ; Tusc. iv. 2 ; de Fin. iv. 9 ; de Orat. i. 17. A different account is found in Van Lynden de Pan«tio, § 13. COMMENCEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY AT ROME. 77 the doctrines of Plato.^ ]Sow when these two kind$ of philosophy once found free course among the Romans, ignorance of the other schools could not long continue. Those who diligently studied any one of these schools must, by their very disputes, have been more or less instructed in the doctrines of the others. Moreover, the very nature of the literature of Greece at this period bore too much of the character of erudition for the Ro- mans to be long without an historical review of the whole domain of Grecian philosophy. The Epicurean doctrine gained, it is well known, an easy diffusion among the Romans, among whom it found more numerous advocates than any other sect.^ In the times of Cicero, moreover, the New Academy had become popular, after the teaching of it by Philo of Larissa and Antiochus, and even the Peripatetic school found adherents among the learned after Sylla had brought to Rome the works of Aristotle, and a valuable edition of them had been given to the world by tlie joint labours of Andronicus of Rhodes and Tyrannion. But now, although every school almost found its admirers, the Romans were too directly the disciples of the Greeks not to be influenced in a great measure by the prevailing spirit of Grecian specula- tion. Accordingly, we find that the Epicurean, the Stoic, and tlie New Academy, were the chief favourites. The Peripatetic school found, so far as our knowledge extends, no other adherent than M. Pupius Piso,'^ who was taught its doctrines by the ' Cic. Ac. ii. 44. « Cic. Tiisc. iv. .3. ' Cic. (le Fin. v. 3 ; de Nat. D. i. 7 ; ad Att. xiii. 1.0. M. Crassus is also num- 78 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. Neapolitan Staseas ; but even he evinced a disposi- tion to blend and modify the pure Aristotelian doctrine with the Platonic, and partly also with the Stoical.^ The doctrines of the Old Academy, as well as those of its founder, were, it is true, in high repute ; but they owed their consideration princi- pally to the grace and charms of Plato's style, rather than to any right appreciation of his doctrines. For the unpractised intellect of the Romans was scarcely capable of divining the profound meaning which lay couched beneath the mythical, and often am- biguous, form of his style, and they were in general disposed to adopt the expositions of his philosoph}^ which Philo and Antiochus gave to their numerous friends among the wealthy and most distinguished Romans. Agreeably to the opinions of these philoso- phers, the doctrine of the Academy assumed among the Romans, not so much a sceptical character as that of a theory of probability, which examined the opinions of the several schools, and deferred to whatever appeared most plausible, without, how- ever, taking it for more than a valid opinion, which it was right to believe. Such was the tendency of the views of Cicero, a disciple of Philo, and also of the most distinguished statesmen of his day. The only apparent difference between them is, that some inclined more with Antiochus to the Stoical doctrine, which showed a greater predilection for the Sceptical character of the New Academy. In bered among the Peripatetics, Plut. v. Crass. 3. But we have not reckoned him because he was far from being highly enlightened. ^ So we judge in general from the opinions which Cicero puts into his mouth. De Fin. i. 1. COMMENCEMENT OF PHILOSOPHY AT ROME. 79 the former number we may reckon L. Lucullus, who was distinguished for a love of Grecian litera- ture in general, and particularly for all its philo- sophical systems ; among which, however, he gave a decided preference for the doctrine of Antiochus,'' which however he embraced in the character of an illustrious patron, rather than in that of a profound disciple.^" In the same class, but probably pos- sessed of more solid knowledge, we may place M. Brutus, Cgesar's murderer. Instructed by An- tiochus and his brother Aristus, he had likewise adopted a predilection for the Academy, which now was called the old, in distinction from the middle, as founded by Arcesilaus, and the new, by Carneades.^^ Brutus, however, was far from confining his studies to the Platonists. The works which he composed in Latin, have only the slight merit of being eloquently written. Conformably to the Roman character, they were exclusively confined to the Ethical portion of philosophy; while the fact that, like so many others of his countrymen, he wrote a treatise on duties, appears to prove that lie, as well as the rest of the dis- ciples of Antiochus, took the works of the Stoics for his models.^^ Of the others who belono- to this class, the most distinguished was M. Terentius Varro, whom Cicero joins with Brutus as a fellow scholar of Antiochus,^^ and who in his multifarious works, none of which, however, were exclusively ' Plut. V. Luculli, 42 ; Cic. Acad. ii. 2. '* Cic. ad Att. xiii. 16". " Plut. V. Brut. 2 ; Cic. Ac. i. ?, ; .-id Att. xiii. 2.'5. " Cic. Ac. i. 1 ; de Fin. i. 3 ; ad Att. xiii. 4G ; Sen. Ep. 9.5; Quint, x. 1, 123. '3 Ac. i. 3 ; ad Att. xiii. 12, Ifi ; ad Div. ix. 8. 80 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. devoted to philosophical subjects/'' most probably interspersed many philosophical ideas/'^ From statements regarding his opinion of the gods, that he combined the physical doctrines of Stoics with the philosophy of the Academy, in the same way that Brutus combined the Ethical with it. For while he rejected the popular notions of the gods, and distinguished mythical theology from political and physical, he nevertheless attempted to give to the anthropomorphic conceptions of the gods a more exalted signification, and agreably to the Stoical doctrine, interpreted them by the universal force of nature, which pervading the whole system of the world in different degree of existence and in differ- ent individual entities, is consequently adored under different names and forms.^^ Thus did the Stoical doctrine gain under a strange name a wide diffusion among the Romans, at the same time that it had many adherents who professed its tenets without limitation or disguise. In the doctrines of the learned legists of Rome many Stoical principles have been pointed out, and it is probable that the philosophy of the Porch found a permanent school among the teachers and founders of Roman juris- prudence." Q. Mutius Scsevola who has been ** Cic. Ac. i. 1,2, puts in his mouth a reason for being averse to write in Latin on philosophy. However, philosophic works of his are quoted, e. g. August, de Civ. D. xix. 1, i» Cic. Ac. i. 3. •8 August, de Civ. D. iv. 31 ; vi. 5, 8 ; vii. 5, 6, 23. ^' I ground my assertion on J. A. OrtlofTs Abhanblung uber den Einflusz der Stoischen Philosophic auf die Romische Jurisprudenz. Erlangen, 1797. This is a subject well worthy of further examination by our Jurists. The result, perhaps, would be, that philosophy was able to exercise but a slight and merely external influence on so positive a doctrine as Roman Jurisprudence. FIRST ROMAN STOICS. 81 already mentioned among the disciples of PancEtius was the teacher of many of the late jurisconsults, among whom were the distinguished contempo- raries of Cicero, C. Aquilius Gallus and L. Lucilius Balbus who taught Servius Sulpicius/^ To this Balbus, the Q. Lucius Balbus in whose mouth Cicero, in the treatise De Natura Deorum, puts the exposition of the Stoical view, appears to have been related. That Servius Sulpicius was an ad- mirer of the Stoics is unquestionable, since he had studied rhetoric and philosophy at Rhodes while Posidonius was teachino- there. ^^ His dis- ciples L. Aulus Ofilius and Alfenus Varus betray likewise a Stoical character in their legal doctrines. But of all the contemporaries of Cicero, M. Porcius Cato the younger most contributed to the glory of the Stoical philosophy, in which he had received the instructions of Antipater of Tyre and Athenodorus Cordylion. It was, however, the moral and politi- cal points of this philosophy that most engaged his attention, and these he anxiously sought to reduce to practice in public life ;^'^ and by the strictness of his own principles, and especially by his life and death, gained for it a high consideration among his countrymen. The Epicurean school reckoned a far greater number of adherents. We should have a long list, indeed, of names to adduce, if we were to attempt to enumerate all the illustrious individuals who, as we know from the correspondence of Cicero, were Ej)icureans. It will be sufficient to enumerate '* Cic. Brut. 42. '» lb. 41. '■"' Plut. V. Cat. Min. iv. 10 ; Cic. ad Div. xv. I ; I'iiriid. Prorcni. ; pro Murena '2^. IV a 82 GRiECO-ROMAy PHILOSOPHY. a few of the most eminent: such as T. Pomponius Atticus, the dearest friend of Cicero ; C. Cassius, one of Ceesar's murderers, ^^ L. Torquatus and C. Velleius, whom Cicero makes the spokesman of the Epicurean sect in his works on the supreme good and the nature of the gods. Most of the individuals above-named were emi- nent as statesmen, and it is only from their having themselves taken a considerable part in the politics of the day, or being more or less connected with the leading politicians, that we are acquainted with their philosophical opinions : as for the propagation or developement of philosophy they contributed little to either. But as this, however, is the prin- cipal point to which our attention should be directed, we must now endeavour to trace the commencement and progress of philosophical literature among the Romans. Its first appearance was very humble, as was to be expected from the nature of the case. This is evident from the contempt with which Cicero speaks of it, who scarcely deigns to mention two names of the first Latin writers on philosophy — Amafanius or Amafinius, and Rabinus, whom he blames as deficient in dialectical skill, but at the same time confesses never to have read their works.^^ Nevertheless, these writers were, in all probability, of some importance in their own age ; since they possess the merit of having brought the philosophy of Greece within the reach of the Romans, as Cicero himself confesses, when, in accounting for the great popularity of the Epicurean philosophy among his countrymen, he attributes it in a great measure to ^' Cic. ad Div. xv. 16, 1!1. ^^^ Ac. i. 2 ; Tusc. ii. 3, FIRST ROMAN EPICUREANS. 83 the fact of its having been the only one that was accessible to them in their own language. ^^ These writers, therefore, must have been Epicureans ; and it may have been from this circumstance alone, that Cicero inferred their deficiency in dialectics. Still we can readily believe that these first essays were rude and unskilful ; and that before the times of Cicero the Romans did not possess any perfect philo- sophical work in the Latin language. Nevertheless, we must set it down as an exaggeration on the part of Cicero, when he asserts, that before his time philosophy among the Latins was without dignity, and had received no honour from the Latin lan- guage ; and when he claims for himself the merit of being the first to attempt to earn for the Latin language the same gratitude from philosophy as it already owed to the Greek ; ^^ for Lucretius had already published, in Latin, a very skilful exposition of the Epicurean doctrine. Still it is undoubtedly true, that it was in the times of Cicero, and princi- pally by his labours, that philosophy was domesti- cated in the Latin tongue. The Latin writers who wrote on pliilosophical subjects before this date, s^e all lost; but Cicero has for many centuries been revered as a teacher and fountain of philosophy : we shall, therefore, have to take especial notice of Cicero, after having, in the first place, briefly re- counted the rise and spread of Epicurism among the Romans. When it is considered that the Romans ajjplied themselves to the practical, rather than to the theo- retical, portion of philosophy, it appears somewhat *" Tusc. iv. 3. " TuBc. i. 3 ; ii. 2 ; do Nat. D. i. 1. (. 2 84 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. sin^lar that in the very school which was pre- emineritly ethical, the Romans should have confined themselves principally to physics. In the case of Amafanius this is beyond dispute ; ^ and of Catius. another teacher of the Epicurean pbiloiophy, and a conternporary of Cicero, it is well known that he composed, if not exclusively, yet for the most part certainly, on the physical system of Epicurus ; ^^ but the strongest proof of our assertion is furnished by the work of T. Lucretius Carius, which is still extant. Even the Epicurean Cassius found it impossible to approve of the writings of Am.afanius and Ca- tius ; ^' while, on the other hand, Lucretius extorts an unwilLne euloo-v from Cicero.^"' His didactic poem, On the Nature of Thing;?, undoubtedly soon superseded all earlier essays of the Latin Epicureans j and this circumstance justifies, in some measure, his silence as to hi= predecessors in the same field, and the boast that he was the first to give a Latin version of the doctrines of Epicurus."" Like the generality of his countrymen, Lucretius was a close imitator ot the Greeks. His poem was composed after the model of that of Ernpedocles, whom Epicurus extols in the highest language of praise. As to natural grace and poetical ornament of expression, Epicurus, in all probability, was not far behind his original.'' As to the matter of the poem, agreeably to the practice » Cic. Ac L 2. »« What Cicero, ad Dir. xt. 16, says rf Idin refera to phyBO; bekiqie- sented as haring written four books, de Rermn Natma et de Summo Bone. Conmi. Vet. in Horat. Sat. ii- 4. " Cic. ad DiT. xr. 19. Catius mecfe with qualified praise frrm Qainct. X. 1. » Ad Quint. Fr n, II. ** V. .338. » I. 717, sqq. LUCRETIUS. 85 of the Epicureans, it is little better than a re-echo of his master's doctrines, and furnishes a strong proof of the slavish veneration of the school for its founder ; consequently, in our notice of Lucretius, we shall confine ourselves to such few points as will suffice to show the sense in which the Romans understood and adopted the philosophy of Epi- curus. The surprise which we at first feel to find the Roman followers of Epicurus occupied principally with physical questions, is at once removed by the express design of this work. Its object, as Lucre- tius himself avows at the very opening of his poem, is to emancipate the human mind from religion — from all superstitious fear of the gods, and to raise them to a consciousness of their power over destiny, and to exalt them to heavenly might. ^^ Accordingly lie omits no opportunity of ridiculing and decrying the perversity of the religious conceptions of his countrymen and the poets, which, however agree- able as fables, are very remote from truth. ^^ He ridicules the belief that in the thunder and liaht- ning the Lord of heaven displays his power, — and the Tyrrhenian songs, wliich pretended to see in h'ghtning the signs of the Divine will. He de- " I. 63, sqq. Humana ante oculoa foede quom vita jaceret In terris oppressa gravi sub rcleigione, Q,Uie caput a ca-li rcgionibus ostendebat Horribili super adspectn mortalibua instans, Primum Grajus homo mortalcis tendere contra Est oculos ausua, primusquc obsistere contra. • • • » * Quarc rtUigio ptdibus subjccta vicissim Obteritur ; nos exajquat victoria ca-lo. Cf. ibid. 032; iii. in. ; iv. in. ; vi. 4U, ix|q. "11. 'iOO, sqq. 86 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. maiids why, in that case, so many bolts are wasted without effect in the water and in desert regions; why Jupiter does not strike the wicked, and not his own temples and statues. ^^ This imaginary power of the gods can avail nothing against fate and the laws of nature; for even their holy temples and images are not exempted from decay. In answer to those who hold that the order of nature is an indisputable proof that the world was originally formed by gods, he thinks it sufficient to object the evil and irregu- larities which are discovered in it.^^ To those who fear that a denial of all religion must lead to god- less principles, and shameful crimes, he objects that religion itself has led to the greatest enormities — human sacrifices, for instance, and the deed of an Agamemnon, who did not spare even his om'h daughter.^'^ It is not piety to bow round stocks and stones, to visit ever}^ altar, to prostrate one's self to the ground, and to stretch out hands before the statues of the gods, to inundate their altars with blood, and to heap vow upon vow ; but piety con- sists rather in the calm and imperturbable feeling of the sage.^^ What return could human gratitude be to perfectly happy beings, that they should be in- duced to undertake any thing for the sake of man ? What could induce them to wake up from their eternal repose to the creation of the world ? " This false worship he derives from the ignorance of man who, from the manifestations of the divinity, in sleep, and even in his waking senses, had been led •■'» VI. 373, sqq. ^ II 167, s(|r(. ; the same literally with lengthy examples, v. 196, sqq. '^ I. 81, sqq. 36 V. 1200, sqq. ^^ V. 166, sqq. LUCRETIUS. 87 to form an Idea of immortal beings of human form, but endued with eternal youth and infinite power, in order to be able to refer to the power of these gods, those phenomena of nature of which he could not discover the causes ; ^^ and, accordingly, his chief endeavour is to dissipate the prevailing- ignorance of nature, and, in imitation of Epicurus, as he avows, to break down the barriers in which nature had been closely confined by the erroneous belief in gods.^^ Now, however much this attack upon the false gods of the olden religion may have contributed to the destruction of superstition, yet on the other hand, the remedy which Lucretius would substitute, was certainly little better in kind. It is to be noticed, that he frequently recurs to the doctrine of Epicurus, that the gods are beings per- fectly happy, and enjoying eternal repose, and never troubling themselves about the government of the world ; but his proof of the existence of such beings is weak, and far from forcible, resting ciiiefiy on the arguments already advanced by Epi- curus."*" Equally zealous with his master in the wish to destroy whatever could give countenance or support to the superstitious horrors of religion, he attacks also the belief of the immortality of the soul, and conducts his attack perfectly in the man- ner of Epicurus and his school. Who, he argues, that is acquainted with the nature of the soul, and knows that it is formed out of fire, and air, and earth, and some fourth principle, which is a very subtle body, endowed with sensation as its essential " Ibid. 1163, 8f|q. ; Cf. ibid. 8.3, »<[<{. ; vi. 4f), nqq. '' I. 71 ; ii. 1087, Rf|r|, *" VI. 7r,. 88 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. j3roperty, can doubt that this weak, frail, body, must, as soon as it is deprived of its shell, by being expelled from the body, be destroyed by the slight- est shock ? ^^ By such arguments did Lucretius seek to dispel the fears of Acheron, and all the ap- prehensions of religion, by the light of his own, or rather of Epicurus' theory of Nature. Nature is the only deity that he is willing to venerate ; he preaches her holy laws and ordinances, and teaches that she produces all things, and suffers them again to decline and perish as soon as they have grown to their measure, as determined by their respective laws of existence/^ This doctrine of Lucretius, which, in all probability represents the general effect of the natural system of Epicurus on the Roman mind, affords a fair specimen of the tendency of philoso- phical physics, when superficially cultivated, to detract from the fear of God. This influence must have been the stronger on the Romans, the more indisposed they were to profound research into nature, and the more readily they adopted, at this time, when the higher interests of their life were dying off, a light-minded view of the world and of the destination of man. We do not consider it necessary to enter fully into the details of the physiology of Lucretius, since, for the most part, he does no more than repeat the well known positions of the Epicurean school. It is merely in the method of treating his ^' III. 413, sqq. " I. 71, 147, sqq. ; where the regularity of nature is employed to prove the proposition, Ex nihilo nihil ; ii. 1087, sqq. 1118. Donicum ad extremum crescendi perfica finem Omnia perduxit rerum natura creatiix V. 925 ; \:Wi, LUCRETIUS. 89 subject that Lucretius is original, and this occasion- ally gives rise to a peculiar mode of viewing things, of which we must now seek to give an account. The attempt itself to treat, poetically, so dry a subject as the Epicurean doctrine, vvliich, so far as we know, no one before Lucretius had ever made, naturally shed upon it a peculiar light. This is seen in the great liveliness and variety with which nature and her elements are depicted by Lucretius, and which the lifeless and uniform character of the Epi- curean physiology hardly seemed to admitof. Thus, when he represents nature as an all-ruling unity, and rejects the doctrine of a divine government of the world, as destructive of the liberty of nature, and when he ascribes to her a creative energy — in all such con- ceptions nature is regarded as a person, and makes herself felt as a peculiar and independent power. The case is the same with his descriptions of all other principles which exercise a universal influence on the existence of individual things : thus, when the sun is described as a being who, by the heat of his rays, gives life to all the fruits of the earth ; or, when he depicts, at great length, the way in which the earth became the mother of all living things — how at first she freely emitted from her womb, plants, and beasts, and men ; and how, for their sustenance, she had [)repared milk ; and how, at last, like other ani- mal mothers, having passed the period of fecundity, she produces nothing more immediately. In tliese and similar representations he has continued to throw an appearance of life, on the otherwise dead masses of the Epicurean world. This constant effort of iiis poetical feeling to invest all nature with life, is further seen in tlic conjecture wliicli h<' liJi/ards 90 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. in direct contradiction to the Epicurean theory ; that the stars possibly are living beings which have their proper motions, which they perform in search of their appropriate food/^ We are far from wishing to deny that Lucretius intended all this to be understood in a merely figurative sense ; never- theless, it must be owned, that he dwells with a fond enthusiasm on many of these descriptions ; and that the series of ideas to which they belong, have contributed in no small degree to recommend the whole system, both to himself and to others. Among these ideas we must reckon that of an internal impulse of the atoms, which Epicurus originally advanced, in order to explain their devia- tion from the perpendicular, the contingency of natural events, and the freedom of the human will. Lucretius, however, adopts this idea in a still more extensive sense, notwithstanding that it is, in many respects, quite inconsistent with many of his other opinions. Thus, he speaks of atoms possessing in themselves a principle of motion, ^^ and by it ac- counts for the voluntary movements of living creatures, which, he argues, must be referred to an inherent power of the atom, to produce out of them- selves, and at pleasure, a beginning of motion ; '^^ for the will operates a new motion, which is then pro- " V. 525, sqq. ** II. 13"2. Prima moventur enim perse primordia rerum. *^ Ibid. 251. Denique si semper motus connectitur omnis Et vetere exoritur semper novus ordine certo, Nee declinando faciunt primordia motus Principium quoddam, quod fati fccdera rumpat. Ex infinilo ne caiisam causa sequatur, Libera per terreis unde base animantibus exstat, Unde est ha?c, inquani, fatis avolsa voluntas, Per quam projreditur, (juo ducit quemque voUiptas ? LUCRETIUS. 91 pagated through all the members of the vital frame He describes at length the way in which the fourth nameless nature, which is the source of sensation in the soul, as it were the soul of the soul, commu- nicates the motion which itself originates to the limbs, and imparts it to the heat, and air, and breath — the other natures which compose the soul.^^ It is true he does not admit that this internally-moving power can produce an ascending motion ; ^^ on the contrary, he even refuses to con- cede that it admits of an oblique direction in the descent of heavy bodies, which the truth of things must contradict; it is merely a slight deviation from the straight Ime, which is invisible to the eye, which he would request permission to assume ; a direction, he says, so slightly oblique that it scarcely deserves the name.^*^ Thus eagerly does he strive to maintain the regularity of Nature, his goddess, and without, at the same time, sacrificing to it the life in individual tilings. In this respect he appears to be advantageously distinguished from Epicurus, that he labours to maintain more strictly than the latter the regularity *" III. 2G5. Sic calnr atf|ue aer ct vonti cieca potestas Mista crcant uiiam iiatuiam et nobilis ilia Vis, initum motus ab se quje dividit ollis, Scnsifer unde oritur primum per viscera motns. *' II. 18 J. NuUam rem posse suavi Corporcam sursum ferri, suruuniquc mcare. " II. 243. Quare etiam atque eliani paullum cliiiare neccsse est Corpora, nee jiliis f|uaiii minimum, no fingerc moUis Obliquos viduamur ct id res vera rcfutct. Namque hoc in promptu, manifestumque esse vidcmus Pondera, quantum in se est, non posse ohliqiia meare, Ex supero cum pra;cii>itnnt, quod cemcre pos^ II. 171, sq. " V. 528. sqq. LUCRETIUS. 93 two or more different species. "^^ For, he says, all things grow after their proper manner, and pre- serve the differences which the fixed law of nature prescribes to them.^^ Lucretius appears to have discussed this part of physics more fully than any of his predecessors in the Epicurean school. To one of his poetical turn of mind, the subject was peculiarly attractive. It naturally introduced the description of the first dis- covery of the useful arts and the origin of human institutions. In discussing these topics the ultimate conclusion at which he arrives is, that nature and experience gave man a direction towards good, but that by abandoning himself to his passions and the first childish emotions of his soul, such as fear and hope, desire and aversion, he had corrupted much that was good, and thereby created evil for himself from which philosophy alone could now deliver him.''* Now when we remember that Epicurus and and his followers, not excepting Lucretius himself, warmly opposed the validity of any explanation of natural phenomena by final causes, it is impossible to consider this enlargement of the Atomistic physi- ology, as legitimate or consistent ; since it seems to reduce itself to this, that nature herself had a pro- vidential care of mankind, had produced them under favourable circumstances, and preserved and taught them by felicitous accidents. When, how- ever, Lucretius hopes to free men, by means of philo- sophy, from the evil which they have brought uj)Oii themselves by their passions, he places his con- s' Ibid. 879, sqq. ^ Ibid. 924. Res sic f|ua;f|uc Buo ritu proccdit ct omnes Fccdcre natura; certo discrimina servant. »* E. g. iv. ({2n, f(\(\. ; V. 1.57, Bf|f|. 94 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. fidence in the strength of human will, which he considers able to overcome even the constitution of nature. In this point also, Lucretius apparently quits the beaten tracks of his school. For instance, he derives from the different portions in which the three materials — warmth, air, and breath — are com- bined in the soul, the differences of tempera- ment. A soul in which the constituent of warmth is predominant, is disposed to anger ; that, on the contrary, in which the windy breath preponderates is actuated by cold fear; whereas, lastly, the soul in which the calm element of air is found in the great- est proportion, is of a calm temperament, and as far removed from fear as from the ungovernable rage of anger — but, on the other hand, it receives all events with more indifference than is becoming. This variable combination he makes the source of the infinite diversity of human character,^^ concern- ing which he deems it possible and expedient to determine only this much, that although no one is able entirely to overcome the original nature of his constitution, yet the sage may so far bring it into subjection, as to enable himself, by the force of his reason, to lead a life assimilated to the divine. ^'^ « III. -283, sqq. *'■' Ibid. 302. Sic hominum genus est : quamvis doctrina politos Constituat pariter quosdam, tamen ilia relinquit Naturte cuj usque animi vestigia prima, Nee radicitus evelli mala posse putandum est, Quin proclivius liic iras decurrat ad acres, Ille metu citius pauUo tentetur, at ille Tertius accipiat quaedam clementius aequo. * « » « lllud in his rebus video firmare potesse, Usque adeo naturarum vestigia linqui Parvola, quae nequeat ratio depellere doctis, Ut niliil impediat dignam dis degere vitam. LUCRETIUS. 95 This result is manifestly the operation of that fourth and sentient nature of which Lucretius ascribes to man, and to the sage especiall}', in no inconsiderable measure, in order that by its means he may smooth all inequalites of temperament. Another cause of the infinite variety of human character, according to Lucretius, is the fact that the atoms which com- pose the elements of fire, air, and breath, and the other constituents of the soul, are not of like but similar figures. For here also Lucretius appears to go a step beyond Epicurus, and not only assumes an indeterminate multitude of original figures, but expressly maintains that the number of difl'erent figures exactly equal the multitude of atoms, even because they were not shaped by the hand of an artist, after one and the same model. ^^ When, therefore, he speaks of round atoms, these even must be understood to be of similar and not of like forms. Even this modification of the Epicurean doctrine must likewise be derived from the poetic character of the mind of Lucretius, which naturally sought for multiplicity and peculiarity of form. In addition to the physiology, which it is the object of the poem to exhibit, it also contains many allusions to other parts of the Epicurean doctrine. Its logical princij)les, however, are but slightly touched upon. Etjjics are more extensively treated, and in a manner quite consistent with the character of the Epicurean system of nature, which was in- tended solely to serve as a handmaiden to ethics. " II. 3.3.3, 8f|q. There is no contindiction between this verse and v. 477, where it is taught tliat the figures of tlie ])rime elements muht he finite in niiniher; for, m is clear from the argument, this refers only to the magnitude of tiie figures ; on which point Lucretius is ujiparently opposed to the view of Demo- iritus, that there may he also very large ntoma. 96 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. As, however, the moral doctrines of Epicurus do not exhibit aught that is original, but yet agree entirely with the moral views of the Roman Epicureans in general, we shall interweave our observations on the ethical opinions of Lucretius with the general remarks which we have to advance on this head. It has been objected to the Roman Epicureans, that by their debauchery and excesses they had brought the Epicurean doctrine into disrepute. No traces, however, of such dissolute habits are to be found in the character either of Lucretius or of any other Epicurean of this age ; on the contrary, they are full of exhortations to moderate and legitimate enjoy- ment, such as Epicurus himself did not object to. Such a course is moreover only agreeable to the Roman character, and if we were looking to find a reason why physiology was the principal favou- rite of the Roman Epicureans, we should perhaps be justified in adducing the severity of morals, the reverence for virtue and justice, which formed a leading feature of the Roman character, which, how- ever they may have been at this date an occasional subject of ridicule in private life, did not as yet permit the open promulgation of a doctrine which appeared to favour light thoughts on such a subject. Cicero expressly says, that the Epicurean dared not, for this very reason, acknowledge his doctrine in pub- lic; he must pay respect to the opinion of the igno- rant multitude ; and even in the senate he would not venture openly to avow the disgraceful tenets of his sect.'^^ Accordingly, we find that the moral system " Do Fin. ii. 22. On this account the Epicureans were accustomed to say that their o))ponents and the multitude generally had misunderstood the exprcs- flion voluptas, which was the received interpretation of the Greek term ijif^oi) ROMAN EPICUREANS. 97 of the Epicureans was far from receiving a laxer and more indulgent interpretation from the Romans tlian the Greeks, but, on the contrary, was tempered with more severity. Even the Stoic Seneca finds it impossible to reproach the Epicureans with effemi- nacy of doctrine ; what he says of Epicurus him- self, that he gives true and holy precepts, he extends to the Epicureans generally. ""'^ The testimony of Cicero to the character of the Roman Epicureans is unquestionable, since he was a zealous opponent of the principles of their moral theory. When he as- serts that the pleasure of the Epicureans is grounded simply on sensual or carnal enjoyment, he does not adduce his own countrymen as instances, but Epi- curus himself and Metrodorus. When, on the other hand, he speaks of the Epicureans of his own age and nation, he directly intimates that they were, for the most part, false to their principles. In two ])oints particularly he charges them with this incon- sistency : in the first place that they assumed a plea- sure of the mind independent of the body;*'" and secondly, that they held that there is pure and dis- interested friendship, worthy of the sage. On these points they seem to have had a theory of their own. For they taught that friendship invariably begins, it is true, in some selfisli view ; but that wjien the friendly intercourse has lasted for a time, a love of the friend for his own sake is then formed, wliich This excu8« ie fiercely attacked by Cicero ; but it is nevertheless so far grounded in truth, as it is true that voluptas iniplit-H HoniethiiiK IkhI, wliich is not contained in y'lCnvii. Such nice shades of language cx|>rc»s the diticrcnces in tiie charac- ters of nations. *» De Vit. Beata, 1.'.. «» De Fin. i. 17. IV. H 98 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. 61 is without any regard either to profit or pleasure. With this modified moral theory, the occasional opinions of Lucretius agree, in their general charac- ter more, perhaps, than in particulars. It is true, he does not insist upon the necessity of a very rigorous morality, and does not object to sensual enjoyment, but only to inordinate desires ; indeed he even de- clares the promiscuous gratification of sensual love, in order to restrain its vehemence, to be not im- moral.''^ On which point, however, not even a Stoic would have censured him. On the other hand, he lavishes his praises on chaste wedlock, as being the first to introduce gentle manners among men, and to teach them compassion for the weak, and respect for sacred obligations.^^ These views, however, evince, in fact, greater disinterestedness than, according to the Epicurean doctrine, it be- comes the sage to cultivate. On all other occasions likewise he brings forward the best aspect of the moral theory of his sect. Thus he recommends moderation in enjoyment, warns men against un- chastened desire and the love of power and glory, against envy and other passions,*'* and especially against injustice, which is perpetually tormented by the dread of discovery and punish- ment. These are the great enemies of mental tran- quillity; these are the real torments of Acheron, ^^ De Fin. i. 20; ii. 26. Attulisti aliud humanius horum recentiorum, nun- quam dictum ab ipso illo (sc. Epicuro), quod sciam, primo iitilitatis causa amicum cxpeti, cum autem usus accessisset, turn ipsum amari propter se, etiam omissa spe voluptatis. "« IV. 1072, sqq. «' V. 1012, sqq. " II. 37, sqq. ; iii. 59, sqq. ; 1013, sqq. CICERO. HIS GENERAL CHARACTER. 99 which the fool fears; they exist in the bosom of the criminal, in his own agonised conscience, in the fear of punisliment which he cannot escape.*^' True pleasure, on the contrary, is the pleasure of the sage which he enjoys within his own breast ; this all nature pursues; and besides it, nothing is re- quired for the happiness of life, except a freedom from bodily pain and a sufficiency for the simple wants of nature.^® Thus, then, do we find, that even the Epicurean school, which, by its rigid exclusiveness and ob- stinate adherence to its master, appeared to be most safe against change, yielded in some measure to the softening influence of Roman Eclecticism. But how much more easily, and in how much greater a degree must this have been the case with those doctrines which were not so stiffly opposed to each other as the Epicurean was to all others? A most illustrious instance of this is afforded by the opin- ions of one individual who, in our present disqui- sition, pre-eminently demands our attention. M.Tullius Cicero belongs to those rare characters who, favoured and stimulated by their own tastes and by circumstances, carefully cultivated extraordinary talents, and by tlie application of them to the most opposite pursuits, acquired a great and diversified reputation." Cicero is distinguished as an orator, a statesman, and a philosopher. But his principal talent was for eloquence. He was least successful *'• V, ll.')2, sqq.; iii. 98», 8fif|. Atf|iie ea nimirum, quatcuiuiue Acheronte profundo Prodita aunt esse in vita sunt omnia nobis. II. 7, 8f|fj, Scd nil dulcius cot, l)ene fiuani inunita tcnnre Edita doctrina snpicntum templn screna. '" Tac. do Oral. 21. II 2 100 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. in his poetical attempts, since poetry is, more than any other pursuit, incompatible with oratory. As a statesman, he boasts the most brilliant re- sults : but it is not on these alone that his fame rests; as a philosophical writer, his eloquence made him of the greatest influence. These foundations of his glory were associated with many other qualities which adorn and embellish the individual. Witli the nicest knowledge of men and things, with- out which no orator can be great, he combined a fine sense of justice and benevolence, love for his friends who remained true to him through the various changes of his fortunes; unwearying dili- gence, and a shrewd and comprehensive forecast of future events, and the inevitable consequences of a present position of affairs. To be as great as he was brilliant in political life, he only wanted that perfect enthusiasm which is engendered in the mind by confidence in its own resources, and resolute firm- ness in the moment of action. This, however, is what indeed at all times is most difficult to attain to, but especially in such circumstances and in such an age as Cicero lived, when, feeling as he did, the clearest conviction that the fortunes of the state were hopeless, such bold resolution could only have been purchased by a calm spirit of self-denial, which was hardly to be expected of the soft and yielding mind of Cicero. We cannot there- fore wonder if we see him often wavering, often hesitating and dissatisfied with himself, unable either to encourage hope, or to banish fear, ashamed of his unworthy position and ambiguous policy, and yet unable to follow out his own plans of honourable action. CICERO. HIS PHILOSOPHICAL EDUCATION. 101 We might have omitted to notice these features of his political career, since the life of Cicero is so intimately interwoven with the histor}^ of the period as to be generalh^ known, were it not for our opinion that it closely accords with the part which he played as a philosopher. The same qualities which procured him splendour in the political world, made him also a brilliant champion and dissemi- nator of philosophical labours : the same defects which, as a statesman, deprived him of the highest praise, also prevented him from being truly great in philosophy; moreover, all his philosophical labours were mainly dependent on his political life. Born of an illustrious family, in a provincial city which previously liad never participated in the highest political honours of Rome, not destined and little fit for military life, his lively ambition saw no otlier road open to distinction than the study of law, of the domestic and foreign relations of his country, and the exercise of his talents for oratory. These he cultivated originally at Rome, and after iioman models, although he undoubtedly must have felt it necessary to combine therewith an acquaint- ance with Greek civilization and philosophy, as in- dispensable for the formation of an orator. His first teacher in philosophy was Pha^drus, the Epicurean, whom, however, he shortly quitted, to join the Aca- d(.'mician Philo, of Larissa, on whose authority he greatly relied, even in his old age. At the same time, he sought instruction in dialectic, from the Stoic Diodotus, whom he maintained in his house until dentil. Tims prepared, he entered upon the 102 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. practice of the law with a youthful, fiery eloquence, but unchastened both in language and delivery. He tells us himself that a weakness of constitution, which the vehemence of his oratorical labours had rendered critical, was the occasion of his adopting a more chaste and composed style of pleading. With a view to this object he began in his twenty-seventh year to study under the Greek rhetoricians. In Athens he attached himself to the Academician Antiochus, without, however, wholly neglecting the instruction of the Epicurean Zeno ; he then tra- velled to Asia, stopping particularly at Rhodes, where, for a considerable time, he was a hearer of Posidonius the Stoic, and combined with the oratory of Greece the study of her philosophy, being con- vinced that the sciences in general, but philosophy especially, are the sources of perfect oratory, and of all good deeds and words.*^*^ After devoting two years to these pursuits, during which he had be- come so perfectly initiated in the language and style of the Greeks that he could discourse almost as fluently in Greek as in Latin, he returned to Rome, where, by the new style of his eloquence, he quickly gained the reputation of being the first orator of his day.^^ He himself confesses that he was indebted to the Greeks for whatever he possessed of intel- lectual culture.^" Thus did his zeal for Grecian philosophy grow up with his progress as an orator, and thus was he prepared for his duties of a philo- ®' Brut. 93. Litteris, quibus fons perfectee eloquentiae continetur,— philo- sophiam, — matrem omnium bene factorum bencque dictorum, «' Brut. 89, sqq. ; ad Div. xiii. 1 ; do Nat. D. i. 3 ; de Fin. i. 5. 7" Ad Quint. Fr. i. 1, c. 9. CICERO. HIS TASTE FOR PHILOSOPHY. 103 sojDhical writer. When^ then, the fortunes of the republic were so low that Cicero could no longer hope to gain an honourable arena for his eloquence, he returned to philosophy, under a conviction that there was no worthier occupation for his leisure — no better alleviation of his sorrows and regrets, both domestic and public — than the composition of philo- sophical works, which, rivalling those of Grecian philosophers, might acquire, both for himself and his nation, great literary distinction,'^ Thus, from the circumstance of his age, as well as his individual position, he became more and more intimately acquainted with Grecian philosophy. But his personal tastes also recommended these j)ursuits to him. In support of this assertion we do not intend to adduce the somewhat pompous lan- guage in which he paints philosophy as the school- mistress of a truly human life ; even the expressions which, in his letters to his friends, he occasionally drops on this subject, are liable to suspicion ; the only sure proof appears to be his philosophical writings themselves, which evince a more intimate ac(juaintancc with the philosophy of his times than was to be expected of an individual who Iiad been led to philosojjhy by extraneous considerations alone. They show that he liad given his attention not only to those parts of philosophy which readily admit of rhetorical display, but that he also dili- gently entered into its drier matters, and had laboured, so far as tlie character of his mind " Dc Div. ii. ; Ac. i. .3 ; Tunc. ii. 2. Quam oh rem liortor omncs, (|iii faccre id possunt, lit liiijus fiuofjue generis lauiicm jam langiienti Grteciic eri- ])iant ct perfenint in banc urbem, sicut relirjuasomnes, qua: quidem erant expe- tendae, stmlio atque industriu sua mnjorcs nostri trnnstulerunt. 104 GH^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. allowed, to investigate them thoroughly. In this respect none of his cotemporaries can be compared with him. We find, also, that the species of philo- sophy which he sought to diffuse was entirely suited to his position and mental character, and that he felt himself pervaded by it exactly in the same degree that he sought to penetrate into its spirit; as also that he did not devote himself to any particular school, but, conscious of a want of creative origin- ality, he made a selection of opinions from the several sects, of which the connexion, coherence, and centre, are to be sought for in the position of his age and his nation, and in his own personal character. But in order to do justice to his philosophical labours, we must not forget that the whole cast of his mental training was decidedly political ; and on this account his philosophy also, in proportion as it arose out of his own views, naturally assumed the colour of his political tendency. This he ob- serves himself ; '^^ and the close dependence of his philosophical authorship on his political position is clearly expressed in the manner in which they appear, as the employment of his involuntary lei- sure, in the intervals between the days of his extreme peril, and his restoration to honour and power. Passing over his youthful productions as consisting merely of translations from the Greek, or of rhetorical essays on philosophy, which may appropriately be viewed as preparations for his oratorical career, the composition of his '2 De Off. ii. 1 . CICERO. INFLUENCES OF POLITICS. 105 philosophical works appears to belong excluGively to two periods. The first was when the first triumvirate held the state in such a feverish state of agitation that Cicero despaired of its safety; while the second is contemporaneous with the dictatorship of Caesar and the consulship of Antony, during which it was impossible for him to take any part in poli- tical affairs with honour to himself. To the former belong his works De Republica, and De Legibus," while the latter claims the other philosophical works of his maturer age. Now in both of these periods Cicero was urged neither by necessity nor wish to take any part in politics ; but as soon as the expectation again presented itself, that his talents for business might be of some public benefit- when Pompey again attached himself to the party of the Optimates, during the civil war, and after the death of Caesar, or so soon as personal fears for himself and family took entire possession of him — his philosophical pursuits were immediately aban- doned. He considered them, therefore, as a refuo-e from the troubles of life, as the solace and employ- ment of his leisure. Accordingly, when he saw the vessel of the state sinking, he declares to his friend Atticus his resolution, based upon a radical convic- tion of the vanities of this world, to devote himself entirely to philosophy ; but even yet lie has not lost all hope ; he still informs himself very accurately of the state of these vanities.^' As his contemporaries looked to [)liil()sophy for " It it) true he says, de Div. ii. I, that he wrote tlie treatise De Hepublicu wliile he yet held the helm of state ; this, however, is a mere rhetorical flourish. " Ad Alt. ii. 5; 13. ]0(S GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. consolation in misfortune, whether it might be from the Stoical or Epicurean doctrine, so Cicero hoped, by her help, to rise above the ruins both of himself and his country/^ Vain hope ! When his case was urgent, and danger imminent, he sought by every species of sophistical question, to arrive at an issue worthy of himself; but even his philosophy became a plague to him, since it recommended, as alone worth}^ of his fame as a philosopher and a statesman, a resolution which his personal want of courage disabled him from putting in prac- tice/^ He saw too clearly that the consolations of philosophy are of no real avail ; that he must look to events alone for tranquillity; that scientific occupations cannot afford any solace/' In his domestic troubles he even tiiinks, that without them the mind would perhaps be more insensible to pain ; while they enrich and humanize the mind, they probably increase its sensitiveness to suffering ; they do not furnish any permanent relief, but merely a short oblivion of pain/^ Nevertheless, this was his sole object; in the prosecution of phi- losophy he appeared to think that his mind be- came stronger ; by the example of the Socraticists, he felt himself raised above all care for the empty advantages of the world ; he believed that he had conquered fear, and that it could never degrade him again ; from henceforth his whole life should be " Ad Att. ix. 4. '" lb. viii. 11. Ti 11,. x. 14. '* Ad Att. xii. 46, Quid ergo ? inquies ; nihil litterae ? In hac quidem re vereor, ne etiam contra. Nam essem fortasse durior. Isto enim animo nihil agreste, nihil inhumanum est. Ad Div. v. 15. Itaque sic litteris utor, in qui- bu8 consumo omne tempus, non ut ab his medicinam perpetuam, sed ut exiguam doloris oblivionetn petam. Tusc. iv. 38 ; v. 41, fin. ; de Off. iii. L CICERO. MODERATE SCEPTICISM. 107 devoted to virtue ! But with the revival of his political hopes, his previous vacillations and weak- nesses return.'^ To one of such a character, no other form of phi- losophy could be suitable than a sober Scepticism ; which itself is an expression of a vacillation in science, similar to that which Cicero's whole life exhibits between the necessity of self-denial and the allurements of fame, fortune, and power. How- ever weak he may appear in the hours of despair, when he weeps, and in a conscious sense of his faults and disgrace wishes for companions in his fall,^*^ it is, nevertheless, undeniable that a certain trait of nobleness runs through the whole tissue of his life. It is true the ideal which floats before his imagination, is not that of a sublime and disinter- ested virtue ; but still it was his aim to deserve the commmendations of good men : he sought to main- tain integrity in life ; while a death suitable to such a course of life was a worthy object of desire, he cannot hide his shame at his not daring boldly to meet such a death.®' On this subject he is dissatis- fied with himself; hence his vacillation and doubt, and when he would give himself up to the highest ideal of philosophy, and the sternest requisitionsof virtue, he feels himself incapable of submitting to and fulfilling them with firmness and constancy. Thus he does, it is true, show a disposition for them, but at last lie declares the doctrines which flow from them to be at most but probable. 1ji this '» Ad Att. xiv. f) ; iid Div. xvi. 2,'$ ; Tusc. v. 2. "' Ad Alt. xi. 15. •" Ad Alt. xiii. 2U. 108 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. sceptical spirit he investigates on all sides, and seeks to be friendly with every philosophical opinion, which is not too strongly and too directly opposed to his own nobler sentiments. We may well say of him, that this fondness for investigation made him an instructive writer for the Romans and for later times, since it has given to his works the charac- ter of brief compendia of all the important systems of philosophy. The fact, moreover, that his philo- sophy is the true expression of his whole habit of thought and mental character, raises him high above most of the Greek and Latin philosophers of his day, who were more dependent upon the autho- rity of some distinguished individual or schooL than was consistent with their own independence of judgment. In the attempt we must now make to give an account of Cicero's philosophy, and to measure the influence which it had upon subsequent gene- rations, we may well confine ourselves in the main, to pointing out the connection subsisting between his own sentiments and that which he considered as philosophy. For as to the matter of his doctrine, little of it is new ; it is almost entirely borrowed from the Greeks. When a nation stimulated by the example of another, labours to create for itself a literature, a spirit of rivalry generally exhibits itself emulously striving to equal, if not to surpass, its model in every branch of art. Cicero is full of this emulation. He would if possible, render Gre- cian literature unnecessary to the Romans, and he believes that in some points he has succeeded in so doing. But with all this he naturally applies him- CICERO. AN IMITATOR OF THE GREEKS. 109 self to those branches of literature which are most to his own taste. Althougli urged by his friends and the admirers of his talents to make the fame of the Romans in history also equal to that of the Greeks, he has, nevertheless, not responded to their call ; probably not so much for the reasons alleged by himself,^^ as that his own inclination did not carry him to the peculiar kind of research which history requires. In philosophy, on the contrary, he has done his utmost to effect this desired ob- ject. ^^ Here he endeavours to examine the whole domain of philosophy, in order to give to the Ro- mans in their own language whatever he con- sidered necessary for its study. This has occasion- nlly led him to adopt a style of exposition which almost servilely follows his originals. ^^ To his friend Atticus, wlio was well versed in the literature of Greece, he frankly admits that his own works are often mere copies — translations of the Greek ;^'^ but w^ith the general reader he is not so candid ; he re- fuses to be called a mere interpreter, and lays claim to the merit of having given a better arrangement to the arguments of the Grecian philosophers, and to have added his own judgment to theirs. But in truth he scarcely ever does more tiian communi- " De Legg. i. .3. " De Div. ii. 2. Sic parati, ut — nullum i)hiIosopl)iae locum esse pateremur, qui non Latinis littcris illustratus pateret. *' Thus he believes himself obliged to insert verses in his philosophical tre;u tiscs, in order not to be behind the Greeks in this respect also. Tusc. ii. 11. TJut he waa perhaps, also seduced to do bo by a fondness for his earlier poetical essays. '••' Ad Att. xii. .52. &ir6y(>aa sunt ; minore labore fiunt ; vcrlia taiituni af- fero, quibus abundo. Ho wrote at this time the Ilortensius, the Academica and dc Finibus. 110 GR7ECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. cate their opinions, and he sometimes confesses, what he could not pass over in total silence, that when he sees fit, he does not abstain occasionally to give mere versions of entire passages. ^^ By this method of working up the Grecian doctrine, he boasts of having surpassed the Greeks themselves,^^ either by exhibiting the investigations of philosophy more plainly and more clearly, or by giving them in a better arrangement and greater completeness, even an entirely new method. ^*^ But he especially claims it as his peculiar merit to have combined eloquence with philosophy. ^^ In all this there is perhaps, of little vanity, considering the models which he had before him. However highly he may extol Plato and Aristotle, he seems to have made far less use of them than of the Stoics, the Epicureans, and the New Academy. These were nearer to him in point of time, and the New has always a decidedly superior attraction to the Old. We doubt not, that in many pieces Cicero has really far surpassed these authors ; but that he should have chosen these for his models, and should not have displayed more taste for the excellencies of the older philosophers, affords no favourable testimony to the freedom and independence of judgment with which he sought to ^^ De Fin. i. 2. Quod si nos non interpretum fungimur munere, sed tuemur ea, quEB dicta sunt ab iis, quos probamus, iisque nostrum judicium et nostrum scribendi ordinem adjungimus, quid habent, cur Graeca anteponant iis, quae et splendide dicta sint, neque sint conversa de Graecis ? lb. c. 3. Locos quidem quosdam, si videbitur, transferam et maxime ab iis, quos modo nominavi, cum incident, ut id apte fieri possit. De Off. iii. 2. ^ Ad Att. xiii. 13. He is speaking of the Academicae Questiones. *^ Tusc. iv. 5. Better order and greater completeness, de Off. i. 3, 43 ; iii. 2: a new mode of exposition, de Rep. i. 22, 23 ; ii. 11. «^ Be Off. i. 1. CICERO. FONDNESS FOR THE NEW ACADEMY. Ill adopt to himself and his countrymen the philosophy of Greece. It would be vain to expect from Cicero a larger and nobler view of the whole domain of science than was taken by his contemporaries. Like them, he treats philosophy as a mere collec- tion of isolated disquisitions upon certain given questions.^*^ To the opinion which we formerly advanced, that a temperate Scepticism was the species of phi- losophy most correspondent to the mental character of Cicero, we have to add the remark that several inferior motives contributed to recommend it. Of the Sceptical doctrines of the earlier Greek philoso- phy, the moderate doctrine of the New Academ}^, as taught by Philo, was at this time in the highest re- pute. Now as we formerly stated, Philo had been Cicero's teacher, and thus his earliest associations connected him with this school. But it was further recommended to him by its cultivation of a rhe- torical style,^^ the want of which he objects to the Stoics, and condemns their ethical treatises, to which otherwise he was not indisposed, as not suffi- ciently eloquent in the commendations of virtue/*^ Tlie method of Eclecticism which Cicero pursued, by its superficial investigation into principles, necessa- rily caused him to doubt the principles of science, which apparently led to opposite results. And as the design of Cicero was simply to make the Romans acquainted with the results of Greek philosophy in general, he could not adopt a more a])propriate "" This is strongly cxprcfsed, Tusc. v. 7, in the conipariHon of pliilosojihy with mathematics. Philosophy he makes to fall into several loei whieh may he sc-parately treated. I)(^ Div. ii. 1,2, »' Tusc. ii. 3 ; de Div. ii. 1 ; de Fato 2. »= Dc Fin. iv. 3. 1 12 GR7ECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. method for this purpose than tliat of the Academi- cians, which was to give on every subject the argu- ments and objections of the several sects.^^ Rightly to appreciate the merits of Cicero as a philosophical writer, we ought to keep constantly in view both the object and the readers for whom his works were composed. Those whom Cicero souglit to please and also to convince by his writings, were not phi- losophers of the school, but men of the world and of rank, to whom he wished to furnish rules for the right conduct of life and tb.e due appreciation of things, and to give a general taste for philosophy. To such philosophy is only agreeable when it does not come forward with too high pretensions f^ when not insisting on the unqualified reception of its laws, it allows free scope to individual opinion, and with- out invariably adhering strictl}^ to principles, leaves as wide as possible space for discussion and social con- versation. Accordingly, Cicero cautiously abstains from advancing his own opinions too positively ; he refuses to be bound by any authority, and at the same time never attempts to establish his own.^^ In fact, sometimes he goes too far in this respect, and boasts that he will not chain himself down to any doctrine, but will preserve his freedom even here, that he lives only for the day, and takes for a time what for the present appears most probable.^^ From this we ^ Tusc. ii. 3 ; de Div. ii. 1. ,^' De Div. ii. 1. Minime arrogans, ^' De Nat. D. i. .5. The mode in which the study of philosophy was cvilti. vated is strikingly indicated in the passage, Ac. ii. 3. ^ Tusc. V. 11. Nos in diem vivimus ; quodcunque nostras animos proba- bilitate percussit, id dicimus ; itaque soli sumus liberi. lb. c. 29 ; de Off. i. 2. Sequemur igitur fwc quidem tempore et hac quaestione potissimum Stoicos. CICERO. POPULAR STYLE. 113 may see how we are to understand the praise of con- sistency which he claims for his Academician doc- trine before all others :^^ it does not contradict itself, even though at one time it mav consider one doc- trine probable, and at the next, its direct opposite. Still it is a little inconsistency with this liberty of speculation, when he allows himself to be moved by the authority of others, and takes no small pains to adduce, in confirmation of his own opinions, an- cient authorities from the most famous philosophers and other eminent men, and in support of his own views, appeals to the testimony of Socrates, Plato, and Arcesilaus, and occasionally also of the Peri- patetics,^® and in his rhetorical way, recommends to imitation the renown and example of the old Romans. Yet all this is very appropriate in a popular philosophy, which it is the object of each of his works to disseminate, and with which the smoothness and ornament of his own style, and which he considers so great an excellence in the Academical jjhilosophy, very well agree. ButCiceroeudeavours to combine with the popular style of his philosophy a degree of profoundness both of investigation and method, and we must con- fess, that to a certain point, he has been successful. It is only in some of his writings which do not make any pretension to scientific precision (as for instance the De Officiis, De Republica, and Dc Legi- bus, and also in several of his smaller works), that lie allows himself to speak according to popular opinion, and to lay aside the strict form of doc- trinal method.^'* In such works we meet witii " De Div. ii. 1. ''* E. g. Ac. i. 4, 12. * E. g. de Off. ii. 10 ; de Legg. i. l.*?. IV. I 1 14 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. passages accommodated to common opinion, which by no means express his own convictions, as is the case, e.g. with his assertions concerning the gods and soothsaying, and many other topics. But at other times he shows that he can rightly appreciate the importance of accurate language, and the rigour of definitions, divisions, and arguments, and proves that it was not in vain that he had diligently perused the works of Plato and Aristotle, and exercised him- self in the dialectic of the Stoics, even though his primary object may have been simply the improve- ment of his oratorical talents. This is proved pre- eminently by his short work on the Topics, and also the demands he makes for a regular progress in philosophical investigation. ^^° Now in this attempt to combine this strictness of method with o^eneral intelligibility, he was greatly assisted by his adop- tion of the Academic doctrine, which did not recede much from common opinion, ^^^ but, on the contrary, owed its origin to an endeavour to recon- cile philosophy with common sense. It is the invariable object of Cicero to avoid all extreme consequences — the absurdities of philosophers ; ^^^ he wishes for a philosophy with which the life and conduct of the philosopher may be in unison ;^°^ that is, a philosophy not of the sage, but of the good man of ordinary life, who has only a certain ^0° Tusc. ii. 2 ; Ac. ii. 14. *°^ Farad. Prooem. Quia nos ea pliilosophia plus utimur, quae peperit dicendi copiani et in qua dicuntur ea, quse non multum discrepant ab opinione populari. ^"'^ De Div. ii. 58. Nihil tam absurde dici potest, quod non dicatur ab aliquo philosophorum. Ac. ii. 44, fin. ^°'' Tusc. ii. 4. CICERO. PRACTICAL TENDENCY. 115 resemblance to the ideal sage.^°* But while he seeks to establish a harmony of science and life, he labours equally to maintain unity and consistency in science itself; and although he is more imme- diately occupied with such doctrines as may be applicable to the conduct of life, yet the connection which holds between all scientific branches of know- ledge graduall widens the circle of his inquiries, so that it ultimately comprises the whole domain of philosophy. But these remarks have brought us to a point which we have already indicated as forming in general the character of the Roman view of philoso- phy — a predominant tendency to the practical. When Cicero, the distinguished statesman, entered deeply into the investigations of philosophy, like Plato, he found it necessary to defend himself and his own philosophical views against those politicians who either absolutely disapproved of or at most barely tolerated philosophy, and to recommend the study of it to his readers. To this object, he de- voted a special work, the Hortensius, which has been highly praised, but is unfortunately lost. However, the arguments he there made use of, may in a manner be gathered from his extant works on this subject. On the whole, they remount to this, that philosophy is the wise instructress of life, and the only true comforter in affliction. Tiiis to his mind is the very sum of all philosophy, which, therefore, is altogether of a practical tendency '"* De Amic. 5. Negant enim f)uem(|U(ini viruni bonum esse, nisi sapicntem. Sit ita sane. Sfd cam 8ni)ientiam interpretantur, (|uani ;i(lliuc niortalis nemo est consecutus. Nos autcm ea, qucc sunt in usu vitaque communi, non ea, <|UJC finguntur aut optantur, spectare dcbemiis. Cf. dc Off. iii. 3, 4. I 2 116 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. But at the same time he sees that the practical can- not stand without the theoretical. In general he adopted the doctrine of Socrates in the sense in which it had been explained by Xenophon, and most commonly understood, as pre-eminently insist- ing upon the pursuit of moral good in human life and conduct, and neglecting whatever in the inves- tigation of nature transcends the powers of human cognition. ^°^ If then he considers philosophy as the pursuit of wisdom, but wisdom as the knowledge of divine and human things, and the cognition of the causes of all that exists, yet he adds thereto as indi- cating its proper end, that it is designed to awaken man to an imitation of the divine, and to produce a conviction that all humanity is subjected to virtue and morality.^"*' Thus does he give, on the whole, a practical aim to philosophy, and accordingly looks upon the practical as the proper domain to which man is by nature designed to direct his attention. It is true that he occasionally reminds those who would confine the necessary objects of man's attention to his public and domestic duties, that man's proper habitation is not merely his house enclosed within four walls, but the whole world, which the gods have given to us and them- selves for an habitation and a common country. But ultimately he always recurs to the opinion that the inquiry into the state and into morals is more consonant with man's nature than the study of the universe, which surpasses the powers of human ^0' Ac. i. 4. ; de Rep. i. 10. 106 ipusc. iv. 26. Ex quo efficitur, ut divina imitetur, humana omnia inferiora virtute ducat. This addition is wanting in de Off. ii. 2. CICERO. PRACTICAL TENDENCY. 117 cognition. ^°'' Accordingly, he might without incon- sistency recommend a moderate and not very pro- found philosophy to a mind overcharged with pub- lic aifairs ; yet at the same time he expressed it as his opinion, that it is difficult to philosophize only a little, because it is difficult to select a little out of much ; whoever acquaints himself with a little of philosophy will soon feel himself attracted to the rest, since all is so connected together that no one can form a thorough acquaintance with a part with- out having studied the most or the whole.^°^ And accordingly his own philosophical investigations extend far beyond the limits of ethics. He per- ceives that man must take a comprehensive view of the whole, in order to understand the meanins; and relative importance of each part. Although he thought that the boasted dialectic of the Stoics had failed to furnish a catholic criterium of truth, and was only of use in determining the validity of its own positions ; ^°^ he nevertheless held logic in great esteem, especially as furnishing rules for methodical investigation, and as treating of the question of the criteria of truth.' ^" Equally does he appreciate physics also, which as raising the human mind to the eternal and imperishable, and thereby above the mean passions of this earthly life, frees it from •"^ DeRep. i. 1«, 19. "'* Tusc. ii. 1. Difficile est cnim in philosophia pauca eeae ei nota, cui non Bint aut pleraque aut omnia. Nam nee pauca nisi e multis eligi possunt, nee qui perceperit, non idem reliqua codem studio persequetur, &c. '"' Ac. ii. 2!!, "" lb. ii. !). Etenim duo esse ha;c maxima in pliilosophia, judicium veri ct fincm bonorum. 118 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. superstition, and enriches it with profitable know- ledge.^^^ In close connection and agreement with this, is the remark which he makes upon the relation subsisting between the practical and the theoretical. He at- tributes, unconditionally, a peculiar value to scien- tific researches and knowledge. Science furnishes, in and by itself, pleasure ;"^ in it the sage finds his happiness, and consequently his inquiries extend to every part of philosophy ;"^ the prosecution of science is a part of morality ;^^^ and consequently all parts of philosophy are, after the manner of the Stoics, regarded as virtues. ^^^ In this direction Cicero, who on other occasions is wont to recom- mend philosophy merely as the recreation of lei- sure, and even to excuse his own participation in it, goes so far as to put into the mouth of an Acade- mician the declaration, that the investigation into the nature of the gods is preferable even to busi- ness.^^^ And again, inhis delineation of a happy life, exempt from the cares and sorrows which the union of the soul and body entails upon man, Cicero hesi- tates not to declare, that it consists in the cognition of nature and in science, which is the source of true pleasure, both to gods and men ; whereas all else is matter merely of necessity.^ ^' But these, how- 1" DeRep. i. 15, sqq.; Ac. ii. 41 ; de Fin. iv. 5; de Nat. D. i. 21. "» De Fin. i. 7. "' Tusc. v. 24, 25. "< De OfF. i. 43. "» Tusc. V. 25. ^^® De Nat. D. ii. 1, fin. Minima vero, inquit Cotta, nam et otiosi sumus et iis de rebus agimus, quae sunt etiam negotiis anteponendae. ^^^ Hortens. Ap. August de Trin. xiv. 9. Una igitur essemus beati cogni- tione naturae et scientia, quae sola etiam deorum est vita laudanda. Ex quo intelligi potest cetera necessitatis esse, unum hoc voluptatis (al. volunt.). Cf. de Pin. v. 4, fin. ; de Oft. i. 5. CICERO. THE PRACTICAL AND THEORETICAL. 119 ever, are but hopes; and it becomes not the phi- losopher to indulge in hope, however good, but to apply himself to the actual and real. Now the consideration of reality convinces Cicero that the practical pre-eminently claims the attention of man. The most important question for the investigation of philosophy is, what is the supreme good — the knowledge of which will furnish man with a guide and rule of life ?^^^ He avows, therefore, his dis- inclination to assent to Plato's dogma, that it is only on compulsion that the sage will take a part in political affairs ;^^^ on the contrary, he explains the usual aversion of philosophers from public business as resulting from effeminacy and want of moral courage,^^^ and starts the question, whether the phi- losopher himself, if he were condemned to perpetual solitude, would not feel unhappy even in the midst of his speculations ?^^^ It is evident, he thinks, that the duties which grow out of the relations of liuman society, are to be preferred to the obligation of pursuing scientific researches ; for no one, how- ever anxious he may be to discover the nature of things, would not immediately lay aside his inves- tigations at the first call of country, relations, or friends. ^^^ In tliis point, therefore, Cicero does not consider himself justified in following the doctrines of Plato and the Peripatetics, however he may be '" De Fin. v, G. »'■• De Off. i. .9. "» lb. 21. '" lb, 4.3. "* De Off. i. 43. Quia est enim tam cupitlus in perspicienda cognoscenda- f|iie rerum nutursi, ut si ei tractanti contcnii>hinti(iiie res cognitione dignissimas Bubito git allatum periculum discrimcnquc jiatrix, cui subvcnire opitulariijuo possit, non ilia omnia rclinquat atquc abjiciat, etiam si dinumerarc sc Stellas aiit metiri mundi niagnitiidinem posse arbitrctur ? atque hoc idem in parentis, in amici re aut periculo fecerit. 120 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. influenced by their general views. The bias both of his national and personal character carried him to action rather than to speculation. How greatly this bias must have influenced the whole course of his philosophical studies is obvious : but it was chiefly his zeal for the examination of the principles of human knowledge that was most materially affected by it, as it led him to doubt every opinion, the more remote it appeared from the practical conclusions of ordinary life. Accord- ingly, the sceptical character of his mind is not so strongly exhibited in his moral theory as in his physics and logics. Moreover, this subordination of the speculative to the practical, necessarily showed its influence on every occasion, and thereby favoured a mixture of the several parts of philoso- phy. To this result, the rhetorical style employed by Cicero in treating of it, contributed in no small degree. Accordingly, in our exposition of his view, it will be impossible to keep the several parts of it clearly distinct. Cicero's adhesion to the new Academy, was no doubt greatly influenced, independently of his own mental temperament, by the consideration of the endless and inextricable disputes of the different sects. This controversy he carries into all the three parts of philosophy, and attempts in each of them to show how, upon certain questions, the Epicureans are at issue with the Stoics, and Aristotle with Plato.^^^ It is here necessary to remark, that Cicero neglects no opportunity of expressing his contempt for the now philosophical sciences. Geometry, in its first "' Ac. ii. 36, sqq. de Nat. D. i. 6. i CICERO. UNCERTAINTY OF PHYSICS. 121 definitions as well as in its astronomical inferences, appears to him doubtful ; and, with the empirical physicians, he questions the utility of anatomy. ^^"^ This is indeed the manner of the old Sceptics, who had been transplanted into the New Academy, and laboured to involve the useful branches of know- ledge in the same fate with philosophy. But the doctrines of physiology, above all others, appear to Cicero to be involved in doubt.^^^ He cannot sufficiently express his astonishment at the temerity and the conceit of those who could per- suade themselves that they possessed a perfect knowledge of any of these difficult subjects. ^^^ For they are all, he sa^^s, hidden and veiled in thick darkness, so that no acuteness of human view can pierce into the heaven and the earth. Man cannot understand even his own frame, however assidu- ously he may dissect it, in order to examine its in- ternal structure, for who can say that its parts have not undergone a change during the operation ? how much less then can he hope to determine the nature of the earth of whicli he is unable to penetrate and lay open the interior ! Philosophers speak of the inhabitants of the moon and of antipodes ! what doubtful conjectures ! The motion of the heavenly bodies is denied by those who ascribe motion to the earth, and who knows whether this opinion is not nearer to the truth than the ordinary statement of astrologers? What is to be said of the assertions »^* Acad, ii, 36 ; 39. "* De Nat. D. i. 21. OmnibuB fere in rebus ut maxime in physicis, quid lion sit, citius, (|uam (juid sit, dixerini. '*" Ac. ii. 'M. Estiic (juisf|uani tanto iiiflatus errore, ut oibi »c ilia scire persuaaerit ? 122 GRyECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. of philosophers regarding the nature of the soul, and its mortality or immortality ? of their doc- trines concerning the nature and existence of the gods, their providence, and their revelations of futurity? — all alike are involved in doubt and obscurity. A knowledge of the body is more easily attainable than that of the soul. What the nature of the latter may be, whether mortal or immortal, and which opinion of the philosophers concerning it is true, that a God alone can decide ; it is not easy for man to determine even which is the more probable. Man may indeed persuade himself that there are gods, yet even this is a question not with- out its difficulties. What if nature produced all things out of herself? To form a notion of God is impossible, for it is evident that he must be re- garded as perfect, and yet none of the four virtues can be rightly ascribed to him. If we believe in the providence of God, how can the existence of evil be explained ? At least, it must be allowed that the gods did not well provide for man when they made him the dangerous present of reason. ^^'^ After thus enumerating all the difficulties of phy- sics, he concludes with a recommendation of his own theory of probability, and elucidates, in some degree, its method. He suggests to the Dogmatists, that they themselves detracted considerably from the credibility of their doctrines, by their practice of placing matters which are but insufficiently attested in the same rank with the most probable. When, for instance, they maintain that the croaking of ^'1 Ac. 38, 3(iq. ; de Fin. v. 12 ; Tusc. i. 11 ; de Nat. D. i. 1, 22 ; iii. 15, 27. 32, 33. CICERO. GREATER CERTAINTY OF ETHICS. 123 a raven forbids or enjoins a particular action, or that the sun is of a certain determined magnitude, with as much positiveness as they assert that the sun is the source of light, they raise a doubt, whether their knowledge in the latter case is greater than in the former. Certainty does not admit of degrees, but probability does.^^^ It is clear that Cicero regards the evidence of the sensible and present, to be more certain than the proofs of science. ^^^ The complication of a long chain of deductions, the wide range of correlative doctrines, and the contradictions of conflicting opinions, make him distrustful. He fears that in the winding paths of science the truth may be easily missed. ^^" Even in the consideration of moral questions, he is pursued by this conflict of opinions ; but in these, as we previously observed, he exhibits a more decided judgment. He felt himself more at home in this department of inquiry, and could, therefore, more confidently trust himself to take a compre- hensive survey of it. Moreover, he believed that the dissension of the schools upon the fundamental principles of morals, might be equitably adjusted. The selfish theory of the Epicureans, and the prin- ciples of the other schools, are, it is true, irrecon- '* Ac. ii. 41. Non mihi videntur considerare, cum physica istii valdc affirmant, earum etiam rerum auctoritatem, si quae illustrioros videantur, amit- t*'"^- Nee cnim possunt dicorc, aliud alio magis minusve comprehendi, quoniam omnium rcrum una est dcfinitio coniprthendendi. '" He therefore says i.f the disciples of the Torch, Ac. ii. 37. Quamcunque vero scntentiam probaverrit, cam sic nnimo comprchensam habebit, ut ca, quaj sensibus ; nee ma^is approbahit nunc lucere, quam, quoniam Stoicus est, hunc mundum esse sapiontcni, ' lb. 126. Negas tantam similitudinem in rerum natura esse. Pugnas omnino, sed cum adversario facili. Ne sit sane, videri certe potest; fallet igitur sensum et si una fefellerit similitudo, dubia omnia reddiderit. 1*0 lb. 27. '"* lb. 47. In this among other passages, he says, nos enim defendimus etiam insipientem multa comprehend ere. In other places, however, Cicero denies to men the power " comprehendere." lb. 2G. His phraseology is by no means fixed. CICERO. SENSATION PROBABILITY. 131 without, however, being able fully to place a reli- ance upon them. It is his opinion, that there are certain sensuous impressions which, in consequence of their moving his senses strongly, man may con- fide in, although he cannot hold them to be per- fectly true.^^^ This is his theory of probability- He does not wish to eliminate the difference be- tween truth and falsehood. We have g^ood reason to regard one thing as true, and to reject another as false ; but there is no sure standard of truth and falsehood. ^*^^ He thus meets the objection, that the denial of all certainty by assuming its own truth implies a certainty, by maintaining that this position itself is at most only probable. ^^^ And by a similar expedient he gets rid of the further ob- jection, that a doctrine which teaches that all things are uncertain is inconsistent with the wise conduct of life, for this, he argues, never looks beyond the probable, and most of tlie arts of life themselves admit tliat they are conversant about conjectures rather than science. ^''^ He sees no other difference between his own view and that of the Dogmatists, than that while the latter doubt the truth of nothing which they act upon, he himself looks upon much as probable which yet he may well follow, without, however, venturing to assert its complete certainty.' 166 '•' lb. 20. Visji cnim ista, cum acritcr mentem senBumve pepulcrunt, accipio, ii.V|UC intcrdum ctiani asscntior, ncc percipio tameii. "* lb. 34 fin. ; (ic Nat. T). i. H. Non enim sumus ii. f|uibu8 nihil verum e»8o vidcatur, sed ii. qui omnibus vc-ri.s lalsa fjuaedam ndjuiicta esse dicnmus, tanta .similitudinc, ut in iis nulla insit certa judiaindi ct asaunticndi nota. Ex quo cxistit illud, multa chsc probal)ilia, qua; quanquam non perciperentur, tamen quia visum habercnt (|uendam insignem et illustrem, iis sapicntis vita regeretur. DeOff. ii. 2. '« Ac. ii. :m, 4fi. '"Mb. ;{i,3:'.. ""> lb. .•{. K 2 132 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. Such a doctrine was well adapted to recommend itself to a man of the world, who, availing himself readily of the doctrines of philosophy, without thoroughly investigating the scientific grounds on which they rest, considered them simply as results of the general enlightenment, of the history of mankind, and of his own personal experience. It is manifest that this doctrine of probability deviates in some degree from that of the New Academy, at least in the form in which the latter was advanced by Carneades ; for the former does not labour to make out that all is equally probable and improbable, but holds one thing to be probable and another im- probable. Cicero himself acknowledges that in this point he had receded from the doctrine of his teachers. He confesses, indeed, that he is not bold enough to refute the Scepticism of the New Aca- demy upon ethical questions, but he expresses a wish to silence it.'^^^ When we review the physical doctrines of Cicero, it is necessary to bear in mind that he regarded this part of philosophy in particular as most uncertain, and its subject matter as too sublime for the human mind to apprehend it with certainty. But even this very sublimity attracted him to physical inves- tigations, although with a modest consciousness of human weakness. For it was a feature not only of his personal but also of his national character to be attracted by the great, the brilliant, and the sublime. ^"^ De Legg. i. 13 fin. Perturbatrieem autem harum omnium rerum aca- deniiam, banc ab Arcesila et Carneade recentem, exoremus, ut sileat. Nam si invaserit in haec, quae satis scite nobis instructa et composita videntur, iiiniiiis edet ruinas. Quam quidem ego placare cupio, submovere non audeo. < CICERO. PHYSICS. 133 He compares the investigations into nature to a natural food of the human mind, which is not only agreeable but exalting, making it modest, and im- pressing it with a lowly but just appreciation of human life.^^^ Agreeably with this part of his character, his philosophical investigations for the most part engage in the sublimest objects of science which the Stoics had previously drawn into the domain of physics, such as the investigation into the divine nature, and its relation to the world, and the immortality of the human soul. Other phy- sical questions are either wholly passed over by him, or else but cursorily touched upon in an his- torical notice. It is thus that he treats not merely the inquiry into the elements, and especially the fifth element of Aristotle, but even the question of the relation between form and matter, notwithstanding the important bearing of it in all the earlier systems upon the idea of God. In the same hasty manner does he notice the opinions of the old Pythagorean and Ionian philosophy concerning the prime essence. This cursoriness with which Cicero discusses the fundamental principles of physics, in order to hasten to their results, has naturally influenced his view of the latter. A vague principle leads necessarily to vague consequences. Moreover, the results which Cicero drew from his doctrine of nature, and the Ac. ii, 41. Neque tamen istas fnia-stiones physicoriim cxterminandas l>uto. Est eiiim nninioriim ingeiiiorunKjue naturale (juoildani ijuasi pabuhiiii consideratio contemplatioque natuta;. Erigimur, clatiores fieri videmur, humana de8j)itimus, cogitante8(|ue supera at(|ue coilestia li;uc nostra utexigua et minima coiiti-niniinu!*. Indagatio ij)sa rerurn turn maximarum, tum ctiam occultissi- marum liabet obicctationem. Si vero aliquid occurret, quod verisimile videatur, liumaniitsinia completur animus volupUite. De Fin. iv. 5 in. 134 Gli^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY. view which he entertains of nature in general, lie so wide apart, that it is manifest in this part of his doctrine, that not scientific reasons but the personal bias and sentiments of the writer have ultimately led him to a conclusion which even the conscious- ness that its scientific basis was hardly tenable, could not repel. This would still more be the case in proportion as the decision itself strove, as we shall presently see, to combine the most contra- dictory elements. The points which he is most anxious to establish firmly, respect, in the main, the doctrines of God and the human soul. He was sensible of the in- fluence which the conviction of a divine, provi- dential care both of the good and the bad, and of the primary legislation of God in our soul, exercises on human conduct. Religious convictions appear highly important for the government of a state, and he therefore accedes to the position of Plato, that divine worship ought to be the first object of legis- lation to secure. ^*^^ These doctrines were further recommended to his attention by their suitableness to elevate man to a proper sense of his true dignity, which consists chiefly in this, that man alone, of all earthly animals, has the notion and a knowledge of God — that his reason is of a divine origin, being implanted in him as an immortal essence by God.^^*^ For it is not the visible but perishable form of the body that constitutes the man, but his mind ; this it is that constitutes personality, and by it each person becomes as it were a god, moving i'» De Legg. i. 7, 1 1 ; ii. 7. "° lb. i. 8. CICERO, GOD AND PROVIDENCE. 135 his own body in the same way that the supreme God moves the world. ^'^^ This illustration at once gives us to understand in what sense he conceived of the human soul. He would have it acknow- ledged to be a free and immortal essence, which exercises an independent power over the body, and consequently external things also : in short, an essence which is of a divine nature. But these opinions, however fondly Cicero may dwell upon them, are little supported, or rather called in question, by the principles of his philo- sophy. In the treatise " De Natura Deorum," Cicero submits the doctrines of the Epicureans and Stoics alike to the sceptical objections of the Aca- demy ; and while he accuses the former of a covert atheism, he rejects as insufficient the arguments b}^ wliich the latter prove the existence of the gods ; and ultimately concludes by representing the belief or disbelief of a divine being to be altogether de- pendent on the personal sentiments of individuals. But at the same time he does not scruple to avow for his own part a predilection for the opinions of the Stoics over the doubts of the Academy; and if he does not consider their arguments demonstrative, he yet claims for them the merit of probability.^^^ We must therefore condemn as unjust the doubt which has been raised against his own belief in a "' De Rep. vi. 24. Nee enim tu es, quern forma iata declanit, scd mens cuju8le to abstain from it. Orig. c. Cels. viii, 30j Sextii Sent. p. fi48. 166 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. spirit, Sextius refused to accept the dignity of a senator. Seneca boasts of him as an example of old Roman habits ; but it is not for the old political virtue of his nation, but for tlie severity and sanctity of his life, which led him to despise the duties of a citizen, in order to elevate the philosopher the more highly. His school appears to have been continued in a similar spirit by his son of the same name, and by Sotion of Alexandria.^^ The latter, however, ap- proximated to the Pythagoreans, by using the doc- trine of the Metempsychosis as an argument for temperance and self-denial.^^ Yet, as the teacher of Seneca, Sotion is a proof how greatly the Stoical doctrine was indebted to the school of the Sextii for its diffusion. The same direction was pursued by the Cynics of this time, who occasionally are confounded with the Stoics,^^ and whose doctrines so greatly resem- bled those of the New Stoics, that the latter painted the picture of a true Cynic, as the model of a truly philosophical life.^'^ And in fact the later Cynics appear to owe their origin to the diffusion of Stoical principles of morals. As formerl}^ the Stoical phi- losophy resulted from the Cynical school, and derived its ethical rigour from it, but yet deviated from it, in order that by forming a doctrine of the grounds of all things, it miglit satisfy the requisitions of ■''■' This is apparently proved by the Fragments which Stobeus has preserved for us from tlie work of Sotion on anger. They do not exhibit any originality. " Sen. ep. 108. '* Thus Musonius is called a Cynic, Eunap. v. Soph. Prooem. p. 6. " An-ian. Diss. Epict. iii. 22. CYNICS. DEMETRIUS. 167 science ; so now, conversely, the Cynical doc- trines were naturally revived by the Stoical, when the latter had abandoned the more general scien- tific element, and confined themselves to merely practical exhortations to virtue. Now the New Cynics are not distinguished from the New Stoics otherwise than by their greater disposition to ex- travagance and extremes. This tendency led them to adopt much that was even positively bad, for which the corrupt character of the age afforded a rich aliment. With respect to philosophical de- velopment, the school of the New Cynics was of little importance, notwithstanding the number of its adherents, who were distinguished by a simple, not to say sordid, manner of living, by satirical mocking of the prevailing corruption of morals, and sometimes enforcing, by a propriety of life and man- ners, their exhortations to a simple and natural life. In the latter respect they have been not un- justly compared with the Christian monks. The first Cynic of this age tliat is known to us, is Demetrius, the friend of Thraseas Psetus and of Seneca, who appears to have enjoyed a high repu- tation at Rome in tlie time of Nero and Vespasian. ^^ The praises which have been lavished upon him, prove that he supported his contempt of all the outward advantages of life, by an inward indcj)en- dencc and strength of mind, and boldly invited every visitation of the gods, and every blow of fate, '" Tac. Ann. xvi. 34; Hist. iv. 40 ; Suet. Vesp. 13; Sen. Ep. 02. [n all probiibility the Cynic Dcmeirius whom I'hilobtr. v. Apoll. iv. '2,'>, mentions ns living at Corinth, and as the teacher of the younger Menippua is the same as our Demetrius. 168 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. in order to display his courage and energy in his struo'2:le with misfortune. It was thus that he sought to exhibit in his own person, a contrast to the moral supineness of his contemporaries.^^ As the disciples of Antisthenes regarded nothing but the establishing a simple rule of life, and despised the scientific rules of other philosophers ; so did Demetrius extenuate the value of wisdom in gene- ral, ^^ especially despising a knowledge of physics, andcontented himself with simply inculcating such rules as might be useful for the conduct of life. It is better, he asserted, to hold fast to a few precepts of wisdom, which are of practical application, than to learn much, which not only has no reference to, but is wholly useless in practice. Man ought not to bewail the limits of human knowledge, for what- ever has a use beyond the mere gratification of curiosity is easily learned ; whatever is necessary for a good and happy life, has b}^ nature herself been laid open, and is at the comm.and of all. In this class of necessary knowledo-e he reckons these propositions : nothing is to be feared, and little to be hoped for, since the true treasures which every one ought to seek, may be found within himself; death is not an evil ; man has little to fear from his fel- lows, and nothing from God ; the mind ought to be dedicated to virtue, which everywhere leads man along an even road ; men, as born for society, must look upon the world as their common habitation ; " Sen. de Prov. 3,5 ; de Vita Beat. 18; Ep. 67; de Benef. vii. 8. Quern mihi videtur rerum natura nostris tulisse temporibus, ut ostenderet, nee ilium a nobis corrum pi, nee nos ab ullo corrigi posse. '" Sen. de Bencf. vii. 8. Virum exactte (licet negetipse) sapientias. CYNICS. DEMONAX OF CYPRUS. 169 that we ought to lay open our conscience to the gods, and always live as if we were observed by the eye of all men, for we ought to dread our own selves more than any other. All knowledge beyond this he regards as merely the amusement of our leisure. ^^ From the time of Demetrius, Cynics are more frequently mentioned. However, they seldom came forward as authors ; most of them, like Deme- trius, seem to have made themselves remarkable by their lives, chiefly by their pursuit of independence, or their rejection of all social restraints, and by their expostulations and satire. Such was the character, for instance, of Demonax of Cyprus, who lived at Athens in the second century, and whose fame is preserved by a treatise of Lucius expressly devoted to him.^^ His exhortations to a moral life, which he supported by the example of his oM^n con- duct, appears indeed to have proceeded from a phi- losophical view, in adopting which, however, he was hardly true to the old Cynical doctrine. For we are expressly told that he formed his philosophy by a combination of the opinions of several. ^^ If, " lb. vii. 1. Plus prodcsse, si pauca praecepta 8ai)ienti8e teneas, sed ilia in promptu fibi et in usu sint, quam si multa (|uidcm didiceris, sed ilia non habeas ad manum. Nee de nialignitate iiaturaj (|ueri possumun, quia nullius rei dilficilis inventio est, nisi eujua hie unus invcntjc fruetus est, invenisse. si soeiale animal et in commune genitus munduin iit unani oiiuiium domum spce- tat et conseientiani suam diis aperuit semi)cr(|ue taiiquam in i)iil)lico vivit, si se magis verilus quam alios, siibduetus iUe tempestatibus in sohdo ae sereno stetit, consummavit (seientiam utilem atque necessariam. lleii(iua oblectamenta otii sunt. *■ An opinion has occasionally been advanced that Lucian intended to jiaint in his Demonax the ideal of a Cynic ; but the sketch contains too many charac. teristic features to justify sucii an o])inion, '■" Luc. Demon. 5. 170 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. as we are told, he sought to reconcile Socrates with Diogenes and Aristophanes/^ the attempt seems to indicate a very loose Eclecticism, but which, how- ever, may have been confined to a selection of the practical precepts of these philosophers. His Cyni- cal character of thought, therefore, rested chiefly on a wish to promote the self-sufiiciency of the sage, and to raise him to an independence of all external advantages,^^ which, however, he did not, like other Cynics, disdain to enjoy. At all events, he frequently censured the extravagances of the sect to which he belonged. ^^ Of Demetrius, we see that he honoured the gods indeed, but yet sought to free himself and his disciples from all fear of them. This was an important point of the self-dependence which it was the object of the Cynics to attain to. In Demonax, however, this feature of the Cynical cast of view appears still more prominent ; for, being accused of impiety, he defended himself in a manner that is far from concealing his contempt for the established worship. ^'^ And further, many ex- pressions of his have been adduced full of con- tempt for religious ceremonies, and denying even the immortality of the soul.^^ This tendency of the Cynical habit of thought to oppose the popular religion, is found in GEno- maus of Gadara, who lived in the time of Hadrian or somewhat later/'^ who was also distinguished '■'" lb. 62. *« lb. 3, 4. '^ lb. 19, 21, 48, 50. » lb. 11. ^"' lb. 27, 32,34,66. ^' The first according to Synccll. p. 34.0 ; the second according to Siiid. s. v. Oivo/xaoQ, who makes him but a little older than Porphyry. CYNICS. CENOMAUS OF GADARA. 171 as a writer.^' The work of his most frequently quoted, is one in which he ridicules the oracles, and wliich was, in all probabih'ty, principally directed against the frauds and tricks of supersti- tion.^^ To judge from the extant fragments, (Enomaus carried to great length the Cynical habit of deriding what was generally regarded as holy, and their disregard of decency, beauty, and other external advantages. On the other hand, he preached repentance and reformation, and the emancipation of the soul from all idle prejudices, and in this spirit declared that true Cynicism was not to be confounded with a slavish adherence to the opinions of Antisthenes or Diogenes. ^° His at- tack on the oracles was founded principally on the ground that, as they imply predestination and a universal necessity, they are consequently destruc- tive of human liberty. But even the lowest animal possesses liberty ; for vitality is the principle of motion. If man were not free he could do nothing of himself, and could not with justice be either praised or blamed. It is only by a free will that he can he good, and by it he may become the master of even his natural wants. ^^ Thus we find even in this (puirter, the question mooted, which ** A catalogue of his works in which, however, the best known to us are omitted, is to be found in Suid. I. 1. *^ According to Euseb. I'r. Ev, v. lit. the title appears to have been . I!4f», cd. Hal. 172 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. subsequently became the subject of profound philo- sophical investigation; and it is here associated with a controversy which shook the olden faith to its foundations, and thereby opened the way for a new cast both of thouo;ht and feeling;'. This notice of the extremes into which the Cynics of this period fell, far surpassing all that we have heard of their earlier school, is sufficiently ample. They are indeed so far instructive, as they show how the evil elements of society usually attach themselves to every species of extravagance. And in such elements the present age was far more abundant than that of the earlier Cynics.^^ But there is another connected with them deserving of notice, and this is, that the Cynical sect was the nucleus of a growing attachment to the enthusiasm of Oriental Mysticism, notwithstanding the counter- acting disposition evinced by those Cynics, whom we have already noticed by name, to oppose the national superstition. We find an early instance of this oriental tendency in Demetrius, so highly cele- brated in the time of Lucian for his magnanimous friendship, who at last, if the statement be deserving of credit, joined the Brahmins.^^ But still stronger traces of it are found in the history of Peregrin us Proteus, as it is given us by Lucian."^ There was ^ Ridicule of the corrupt habits of the Cynics forms, it is well known, a principal portion of the works of Lucian. As a specimen of such descriptions we may refer to the dialogue entitled Apairirai. '3 Luc. Toxar. 27, sq. U. ^' This description cannot, it is true, pass for an historical document; never- theless, on the authority of Gell. viii. 3 ; xii. 11, we must allow that it is founded upon historical traits, and the whole description proves, that Lucian believed this direction to be generally followed by the Cynics of his time. STOICS. ATHENODORUS OF TARSUS. 173 undoubtedly one point in which Cynicism was closely related to Oriental ideas; viz. the contempt for all external good things, and of the occupations of life which are conversant about them ; and from this point the development of the Oriental philo- sophy sprung up as it were naturally. But the extravagance of the Cynical rule of life appears to have brought the whole school into such disrepute that it gradually died away. It is true that in the fourth and fifth century Cynics are occasionally mentioned, but it is only as passing phenomena, which cannot be taken as furnishing a characteristic of the times. But of all the sects at Rome whose views of philosophy were pre-eminently practical, no one enjoyed a more lasting consideration than that of the Stoics. This, perhaps, was in some measure to be accounted for by the Roman love of political freedom, which passion alone kept alive more generous sentiments in their minds. To the later Romans, yet animated with a love of freedom, the example of the younger Cato shone forth as a brilliant model, to whose ideas and philoso- phy they ought to conform. The ill will with which the more tyrannical of the emperors viewed their doctrine could not suppress it ; it had its martyrs, a Caius Julius, a Tiiraseus Paetus, an Helvidius Priscus, whose sufferings and death ennobled their philosophy. At Rome, moreover, there were never wanting teachers of this philosophy, of whom, however, we shall only mention Athenodorus of Tarsus,'^' teacher ** In consequence of this individual being frcf|ucntly confounded with others of the same name, and especially Athenodorus Cordylion of Tarsus, the 174 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. of Augustus, and Attalus, who taught at Rome under Tiberius,^'^ and had Seneca for his disciple. This disciple, however, deserves a fuller notice. M. Annseus Seneca was born at Corduba in Spain, son of a Roman knight, who by his forensic eloquence had risen to distinction, and in the time of Augustus took up his residence at Rome. At this date Seneca was very young. He was intended for the profession of an advocate by his father, against whose will he zealously embraced the study of philosophy, and, after the precepts of the Stoics Attalus and Sotion, exercised himself in strict self- denial, for which in later times, when he took a part in public life, he thought it good to relax a little.^^ His fortune and fate perhaps have con- tributed no less than his writings to the reputation which he enjoys. Banished by Claudius, he was recalled by Agrippina, and appointed teacher of Nero, whom in the commencement of his reign he completely ruled, and whose violent and dissolute temper he laboured for many years, though not always with success, to temper and control. Such an appointment, in a court familiar w^ith every vice, was too ambiguous not to cast an unfavourable shade on the character of Seneca, especially as he made it the means of acquiring immense wealth, and lived in the height of splendour and power, at the very time when he did not cease to claim credit for a Stoical contempt for all the good things of life in president of the library at Pergamus, and teacher of Cato of Utica, it is im- possible to give a very accurate account of his literary activity. But that he also wrote on philosophical subjects is clear from Cic. de Div. iii. 7. 3' Sen. Ep. 108; Suasor. 2. ^^ Ep. 108; cf. cons, ad Helv. 16. STOICS. M. ANNiEUS SENECA. 175 the finest flowers of an elaborate eloquence.^*^ Nevertheless, his death has shed a softer light over the ambiguity of his conduct, and has hindered even stern judges from subjecting him to all the rigour of their censure. For Seneca did not escape the sanguinary cruelty of his imperial scholar; and having received a command to prepare for death, he contemplated its approach with calmness and fortitude, and sought by his last moments to attest the truth of the doctrines which he had avowed in life. To see in these moments of fortitude nothing but the dexterity of a skilful actor, appears to us to fall short of the measure of human charity. But however Seneca may have conducted himself in the last moments of his existence, nothing shall deter us from imputing to the philosophical writings which he has left behind him, an extravagance which only too often transcends the limits of natural feeling and real conviction. His style has been justly censured for a brilliancy little suited to his subject, as displaying wit oftener tlian good sense; nevertheless, it is perfectly agreeable to the cha- racter of his ideas, and to the object he had in The contradiction between the theory and practice of Seneca has frequently been the subject of severe censure. See esjiecially Dio Cass. Ixi. 10. But Tacitus paints in a milder light the public character of Seneca, and in such it naturally appears if we contrast it with the madness of Nero, and the general corruption of political men at this date. Tacitus, however, is very far from exempting Seneca from the charge of flattery, and all the mean and little arts of a courtier. Cf. especially Ann. xiii. 3 ; xiv. 2, 7. Indeed the letters of Seneca furnish ample proof that he did not possess that firmness of mind which was indispensable to the profession of the Stoical philosophy in such an age. His Consolatio ad Polybium speaks strongly against him on this head. Against the reproaches which were made against him on account of hia wealth, he defends himself, de Vitii Beatii, 21, sqq. 176 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. view. He would in vain disown the school of ora- tory in which he was formed ; it is with him of little moment to convince, provided that he can dazzle and surprise by pointed antitheses and the elaborate ornament of his diction. For this pur- pose he is ever labouring to give some practical rule of life in a terse and pregnant form, with which every one of a long series of letters is closed, in order that, as the writer retires, he may be fol- lowed by the admiring plaudits of his reader.^^ Accordingly, he declares that a flowing, calmly advancing style is unsuited to philosophy,**^ although he could not fail to see that such elaborate care to throw out, as it were, in relief some pointed propo- sition, is a fault of composition ; for he lays down the rule, that in correct writing each part should agree with the rest, and nothing by its especial brilliancy exclusively attract the eye to itself. But this rule he so misunderstands as to think that every sentence throughout should glitter ;''^ and hence that overloading of ornament which makes his style so uniform. As we formerly observed in general, that the tendency of the Roman mind to the great and sublime assorted well with this rhetorical mode of treating the sciences, we must allow that Seneca's opinions of a correct style were not inconsistent with the Roman character ; they are but its extreme and corrupt fruits. The sub- ="* The first letters of Seneca, almost without exception, close in this manner with some sentence from the writings of Epicurus. He says himself : Sed jam finem epistolae faciam, si illi signum suum impressero, id est aliquam magnifi- cam vocem perferendam ad te mandavero. Ep. 13. « Ep. 40. " Ep. 33. STOICS. L. ANN^US SENECA. 177 lime has been replaced by inflation, and gran- deur degenerated into exaggeration. Of such ex- aggeration the precepts of Seneca are full ; full, not merely of such unqualified dogmas as might easily grow out of the Stoical theory of ethics, but also of such as could only have flowed from a wish, by pronouncing such decided opinions, to gain credit for noble sentiments. It is not pos- sible to overlook this bad taste in those passages where Seneca defies fortune, and challenges her to combat with himself. He is prepared ; he only wants the opportunity of proving his strength and displaying his virtue.*^ When he praises friendship he is not content with conceding to it the merit that it makes every good possession still more valuable; but he must maintain that without a friend, no good, however great, is even agreeable; even wisdom herself has no charms for him if she must be enjoyed alone. *^ And then how iucon- sistent is the declaration which he presently makes, that whoever is a friend to himself can never be alone. When, Ijowever, he is praising wisdom, his words again assume a different tone. The sage is all-sufficient for himself; he is in want of nothing besides ; if he is alone, he lives as Jupiter will when the world has ceased to be."'' Nay, he is not satisfied witli setting the sage on a level witli the gods ; he is even superior to them ; tliey are wise by the gift of tlieir nature, he by his own ; they are free " Ep.C4. *^ Ep. 6. Si cum liac cxccptione detur sapientia, ut illam inclusam Iinbeani, non cniinciem, rejiciam. Nullius boni sine socio jucunda posscssio est. " Ep. 9. IV. N 178 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. from suffering, but he is indifferent to it.^^ Thus he scarcely refrains from any self-contradiction, so long- as he may set in the brightest light the precept which for the moment he is anxious to enforce. Thus, in order to recommend the profitable employ- ment of time, he does not scruple to say, All is strange to us, time alone is our own.^^ From the above particulars, it will be clear that Seneca gave his chief attention to the matters of morals. Nevertheless, they did not engage him exclusively, for physics also occupied him in some degree, but logic he almost wholly neglected. The opinions which he advances on the mutual relations of the three parts of philosophy, and of the impor- tance of philosophy in general, are worthy of notice, as they serve to indicate the tendency of Roman ideas generally, and his own sentiments also. Throughout the philosophy of Seneca, it is ap- parent that however strictly he may have been formed in the study, he invariably assumes the character of a man of the world, and seeks therein to rise superior to the prejudices of the school. This gives him a certain resemblance to Cicero, with whose views his own frequently coincide so closely that the influence which that model of eloquence exercised on the mind of the Stoic is obvious. He dissuades men from seeking to gain the name of philosophers by assuming a particular dress or mode of life ; the name of philosophy, he says, is already sufficiently odious wherever it is not recommended *^ De Prov. 6; Ep. 53. Est aliquid, quo sapiens antecedat deum; ille naturae beneficio non timet, suo sapiens. *" Ep. 1. STOICS. L. ANN.f:US SENECA. 179 by moderation. Rudeness of manners, and filtlii- ness in food or dress, ought to be avoided ; no contempt for riches ought to be shown, but in all things man should proceed with due measure.*'^ But a fondness for the captious disputes of philoso- phers he particularly reproves ; the first thing to be studied, is, how to live and how to die ;^^ and every part of philosophy must be brought to bear upon morality ."^^ By this position, Seneca does not in- tend, it is true, absolutely to reject logic and physics, but yet, in the same manner as Cicero, he makes them entirely subordinate to ethics. Perhaps, however, Seneca goes further than Cicero in one respect, while on another he is drawn from following liim by the influence of his school. He goes further, in giving a wider extent to what Cicero calls the captious and idle subtilties of philosophy. Among these he expressly names Dialectic, which is occu- pied in the detection of false arguments. ^° Even though he adopts the Stoical division of philosophy into Logic, Physics, and Ethics, it is nevertheless clear from his description of Logic, that he does not distinguish between Logic and Dialectic, and there- fore must have regarded the former also as idle and superfluous.'"' Accordingly we do not meet in his works with any investigations into the criteria, and the discovery of truth. But he docs not stop even here: on the contrary, his zeal to attain to a science at once simple, and adapted to the merely practical end of moral purity, carries him to tlie length ol" " Ep. 5. ** Ep. 45. "'•' Ep. f!f». "^ Ep. 45, 49, (f2. " Ep. 80. Proprietates verborum cxigit ct structuram ut argunicnlationcs, ne pro vero falsa surrepant. N 2 180 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. den^dng the utility of the liberal sciences and of pliilosophical physics also, so far at least as they do not bear upon moral questions. In his zeal he allows opinions to escape him which can scarcely be reconciled with a scientific range of ideas. To desire, e.g., to know more than is necessary, belongs to immoderation ; such knowledge serves only to en- gender pride, and the desire of it is but a part of the prevailing luxury. ^^ Against the utility of physics, or the investigation into the supreme cause of all things, he adopts the remark of Cicero, which he advances, without any attempt at proof, as an admitted verity, that on those points man must be content with the probable; since to arrive at a right understanding of these things is as far beyond human power as is the cognition of truth itself.^^ All that he is willing to admit, and here also he speaks on the authority of Cicero, is, that investi- gations of this kind may perhaps be not without their use as exercises of the mind, and as calcu- lated to raise it above the sensible, and as admitting also of a moral application, since they enforce the truth that the soul ought to regulate the body, as God rules matter.^* No one can fail to see that in all these points Seneca widely deviated from the opinions of the old Stoical sect; frequently, indeed, he expressly contradicts some of its most special *' Ep. 88. Plus scire velle, quam sit satis, intemperantiee genus est. Ep. 106 fin. Non faciunt bonos ista, seel doctos. Apertior res est sapere, imo sim- plicior. Paucis opus est ad mentem bonam litteris. Sed nos ut csetera in Bupervacuum diff'uridimus, ita philosophiam ipsam. Quemadmodum omnium rerum, sic litterarum quoque intemperantia laboramus ; non vitse, sed scholae discimus. *:' Er.6.5. »* E. 1; Ep. 117. STOICS. L. ANNiEUS SENECA. 181 principles, and censures it as fostering unprofitable and subtle disquisitions.^^ He wishes to keep him- self free from all sects, and refuses to swear after the words of any master; he will use the good wherever he may find it, either with a Zeno or an Epicurus ; he belongs to no one, but is common to all : the earlier teachers had investigated, not exhausted philosophy ; he, too, will inquire, and perhaps will behold enough to confide a little in his ownjudg- ment.^^ In this manner does he hope to free him- self from the school, and to philosophize for life. But he trusted too much to his own powers when he hoped to equal the success of Cicero in such a design ; he was anything but able to mould with the same bold and free hand, and to adapt the Greek philosophemes to his own views. He inter- weaves, it is true, occasional apophthegms of Epi- curus with his own reflections; but he vainly endea- vours to emancipate himself from the distinctions of the older Stoics. On the contrary, whenever he enters upon any deeper question, it is at once manifest that he is indebted to the school for nearly the whole of his ideas. He pretends, it is true, to despise the subtle distinctions of the Stoics; but if so, why does he enter into them ? Why does he explain them to us or his friends ?" It is difficult to free him from the reproach of taking a pride in liis acquaintance with all the technicalities of the school. If he had been in earnest in the contempt which he " E. g. Ep. 113, 1J7. Among these I notice the deviation of his opinions tonccrning the comets, which, however, evinces the correctness of his jiiilgnient. Qusst. Nat. vii. I'J, 8(jf|. ""^ Ep. 12, IG, 4.5; de Vita Bcata, .'{. " E. g. Ep. 1 1.3. 182 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. expressed for all knowledge which did not bear immediately upon the conduct of life, we should find it difficult to explain his object in writing in his old age seven books on Natural Phenomena, which he dedicated to the same Lucilius as he in- scribed his Moral Treatises, and which being mostly meteorological, have assuredly little reference to practice. In these, however, he appears entirely to hiave forgotten his boasted simplicity of phi- losophy, his independence of all school, and bitterly complains that the schools of philosophy stood empty when so much still remained to be discovered, and that even old discoveries had been lost or forgotten. ^^ And so little does he appear to remem- ber that he had elsewhere denied the value of natural science, except so far as it had influence on the improvement of manners, that, in perfect con- formity, it is true, with the doctrines of his school, he eulogizes physiology as the chief of physical sciences, on the ground that it is occupied with the investigation into the divine nature. It stands, he says, in the same relation to the other parts of philosophy, that philosophy in general does to the liberal sciences; it is as far above ethics, as the divine is above the human ; if man does not pene- trate into the profound subjects of natural science, it is as well he might never have been born ; virtue is undoubtedly a matter of the highest and gravest interest, but merely so far as it emancipates the mind from the corporeal, and prepares it for the cognition of heavenly things.^^ When we read ^ Quajst. Nat. vii. fin. ^■* Qusest. Nat. i. Pitef. Nisi ad haec admitterer, non fuerat nasci, STOICS. L. ANN^US SENECA. 183 such opinions, it is difficult to believe that the same person is still writing. This inconsistency is not to be explained simply by Seneca's persuasion that at all times the particular subject that he may happen to treat of ought to be extolled above all others, but in some degree also by the fact that Cicero had ad- vanced a somewhat similar opinion ; Seneca, how- ever, has omitted to add with Cicero, that although the doctrine of the divine is the most beautiful and the most sublime truth that man can contem- plate, yet the cognition of what is human is nearer and more appropriate to him. But our astonishment at such rhetorical encomiums of physical speculations, greatly increases as we observe how little applicable they are to the parti- cular topics which Seneca selected for investiga- tion. For in these Seneca does not treat of the supreme cause of nature, but merely of the stars, the elements, and natural phenomena. Whatever he has to say on these subjects, is merely the result of reflection on the observations of experience which lay before him, and which he estimates by the standard of the general ideas of the Stoics. Of j>hilosophy they contain absolutely nothing. What were his thoughts therefore on this head, must be traced in his moral treatises. But from the speci- men we have given of his mode of liandling philo- sophical questions, no one will expect to glean even from these much of a very decided character. After the Stoics, he distinguislies two kinds of moral Virtus enim, (juam afTectamus, magnifica est, non quia per se beatum est malo caniisse, sed quia animum laxnt ac prajparat ad cognitionem coelcstium, dig- num<|uc efficit, qui in consortium dco vcniat. 184 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. doctrines, the one being engaged about the general principles of conduct, the other laying down rules for special cases. ^'^ He attempts to prove that both are equally necessary ; but the latter is most to his own taste. He remarks that it is not enough to know generally what may be right and according to nature, but man must enter into nice discrimina- tions of special circumstances, in order to have a rule of action ready for every possible emergency. It is useful, therefore, frequently to ask one's self, what ought, in this or that, case to be done. It is with this part of ethics that Seneca is almost exclusively engaged, and he therefore highly extols those brief maxims which come home at once to the heart, and attract it to good, and do not allow us to ask for further reasons for trusting to them, so evidently does their truth shine upon the soul.^^ Such a method of treating the question of morals precludes almost all hope, either of method in inves- tigation, or of a precise determination of the limits within which alone each principle maintains its validity. It gives room for the frequent repetition of the same precept, in order that it may be im- pressed more indelibly on the memory. Now what we have to remark on the character of his moral doctrine, is confined to a few general principles, which indicate his mode of apprehending the Stoical ethics. In general, it is undeniable that all his moral requisitions are tempered with mode- ration. He follows, it is true, the Stoical custom of delineating the character of the sage as an ideal ; but at the same time he is conscious of his own «" Ep. 94, 95. "' Ep. 94 STOICS. L. ANN^US SENECA. 185 weakness ; he numbers himself with those who are merely on the road to good, as indeed all men are ; he may be justified in urging- them to assimilate themselves to the gods, but human and mortal nature in general, only admits of this assimilation in a certain degree,^^ and, in particular, each indivi- dual has his own faults which wisdom may diminish, but never eradicate.^^ He, therefore, declares it to be but just, in judging the transgressor, to call to mind one's own weakness f^ and he labours to pro- mote a general love of mankind, by insisting on the due remembrance of the maxim, I am a man, and I consider nothing human to be indifferent to myself.^'' However, he is unable exactly to recon- cile this moderation with his Stoical principles. Thus he will not admit, that it is justly objected to the Stoics that they exact too much of men when they require that they should emancipate them- selves from all mental emotions, for it is only our weakness that still clings to them ; we fight for them because we love them ; because we are not willino- to abandon them, we allege that it is impossible to get rid of them.*'*' Indeed he even goes further. In order to excite men to virtue, he refuses to remit the rigour of the Stoical maxim, that the supreme good — the end of human life — is really attainable. In man a god resides, a perfect reason ; it is our ** De IJenef. i. 1. Hos (sc. deos) setjuamur duces, quantum humanu imbe- cillitas patitur. Ep. 57. Qua;dam enim, mi Lucili, nulla virtus t'ffugero potest ; admonet illam natura mortalitatis suje. The sage is here intended. *^ Ep. 11. Nulla enim sapientia natural ia corporis aut aTiinii vitia i)onun- tur ; quidijuid infixum et ingenitum est, leniturarte, non vineitur. •■* Dcirai. 14. '" Ep. ft'.. * "^' Eji. 116. Nolle in causa est, non posse prtutenditur. 186 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. nature. If only we will devote ourselves entirely to virtue, what can be wanting to our success ? It is a very easy matter to follow nature ; and it only becomes difficult through the universal folly of mankind. *^^ Yet in spite of all these assertions of Seneca, one can scarcely believe that this virtue, this perfect innocency of life, is so very easily acquired ; for in other passages, even Seneca him- self does not seem to regard it as free from all difficulty. He evidently supposes that there is a tendency in man's nature to the madness of vice, since he is driven to confess, that even after a destruction and renovation of the world, the new race of men will soon lose its innocence. More- over, he declares, that virtue is difficult, and not to be attained without the aid of education, while vice is learned without a master. ^^ There is yet a point of Seneca's doctrine which we must not wholly omit to mention. His pious and religious sentiments have been the theme of frequent praise, and in fact, his exhortations to virtue are generally based on a respect to the divine laws, divine providence, and the God who rules within man. And again, whenever he appeals to the example of great and exalted men, he considers them as the best proof of the presence of a divine mind in the world, A reverence, a child-like love, of the gods ought in this life to be our guide, '^ Ep. 41. Animus et ratio in animo perfecta. Quid est autem, quod ab illo ratio htec exigit ? Rem facillimam : secundum naturam suam vivere ; sed banc difficilem facit communis insania °* Queest. Nat. iii^SO. fin. Sed illis quoque innocentia non durabit, nisi dum novi sunt. Cito nequitia subrepit ; virtus difficilis inventu est ; rectorem du- cemque desiderat ; etiam sine magistro vitia discuntur. STOICS. L. ANNyEUS SENECA. 187 and teach us to regard tlie accidents of life as gracious dispensations of the gods.^^ That these precepts are not wholly conceived in the spirit of the ancient Stoics will, perhaps, appear to many to be a merit. Seneca is very far from defending the fables of the olden religion, by giving them, after the manner of his sect, a philosophical interpreta- tion : on the contrary, he composed a work against the superstitions of the old religion, in which he attacked not only the foreign rites, which in his day found admission into Rome, but also the Roman ceremonies themselves. It was only on the plea of a long prevailing custom, that he wished them to be spared.'*^ In this feeling he agreed with all the enlightened Romans of his day. The religion which he recommended, was simply a veneration of the divine power, which is revealed in the uni- verse, and in man as the intellectual and anima- ting principle ; but he condemns the religious practices of the people — all supplication to the gods, and uplifting of the hands to heaven.'^ Seneca affords an unrjuestionable proof, that the ancient patriotic sentiment which formerly expressed itself in vene- ration for the national gods was long since dead. This fact is still more strongly evinced in his esti- mate of public life. He does not, it is true, wholly condemn it, but still he is of opinion, that the sage •' De Benef. vii. 31 ; Dc I'rov. 2. Patrium liabet dens julvcrHiis honos viros animum et illos fortiter amat et, operibus, inqiiit, doloribus ac damnis exngitantur, ut vcnim colligant roliiir. '" Ap. August, dc Civ. I), vi. 10. Omncni istam iguobilum doorum turl)ani, quam longo a>vo loiiga gupcrHtitio congcBsit, sic, in<|uit, adorabimus, ut nieini- iicrimvis cultum ejus inagia ad niorcm, quam ad ruin pcrtiiicrc. " Ep. 41, 188 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. will withdraw from it so long as he is not constrained by urgent reasons to an opposite course ; he extols a retired life as more consonant to the intellectual character of the sage. Philosophy is not a foe of princes and kings; on the contrary, she is grateful to them, she honours them as parents, because they secure leisure and security to the sage.'^^ We have dwelt on the doctrine of Seneca at some length, because it was calculated to show how little talent the Romans possessed for philosophy. From him we shall proceed to mention another Roman Stoic, who at this time enjoyed considerable reputa- tion among: the members of his school. L. Musonius Rufus,'^^ a native of Volsinii in Etruria, and of the Equestrian order, who taught at Rome in the time of Nero, b}^ whom he was banished, but, returning after his death, flourished under the emperors Vespasian and Titus.^^ The influence which he gained was dependent on his avocations as a teacher, for he does not appear to have come forward as a writer. We must therefore form our judgment of his philo- sophy from the Memorabilia of Musonius,^^ which ^2 De Otio Sapientis (de Vit. Beat.) 29, sqq. Ep. 19, .^6, 73. ^^ More particulars may be found in an Essay of Moser's in Daub's u. Creuzer's Studien Bd. 6 S. 74, sqq., who has partially drawn from a treatise of Rieuwland's de Musonio Rufo Philosopho Stoico. Amstel. 1783, which I have not been able to consult. '* Tac. Ann. xiv. 59; xv. 71; Hist. iii. 81: Themist. Or. p. 173, Hard.; Suid. s. V. Movi\ofTotiv f/ uWovq Trj^f (jiiXorrotpiav uKfiiXtHv, "" Stob. Serm. App. p. 415 (.51), 425 (62). "* Stob. Scrm. xlviii. 67. 190 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. this might have been advanced by other philoso- phers less scholastic, and especially by Stoics, but with Musonius it is the chief point ; it is not the ex- aggeration of a theoretic view, but the conviction of his life. We see in him a man, who, knowing little of the pursuits of the rest of the world beyond what he may have heard from his Stoical masters, believed that all other men are evil, but philosophers alone good,'^ who therefore placed a rural life in an ideal light of excellence as compared with the corrupt habits of the city, who loved to paint the philosophical peasant giving at the plough lessons and examples of wisdom to his disciples ;^° and who placed the case of a son who should be forbidden by his father to pursue philosophy, on a level with one whose parent should command him to commit a theft.^^ Moreover, the philosophy which he would have every one to cultivate, is not a mere matter of words, of instruct on, or of the school ; but he is of opinion that every one by his own reflection and prac- tice may pursue it for himself, but at the same time he considers it becoming in a philosopher to wear the philosopher's robe, to allow the hair to grow, and to retire from the general society of men.^^ At the same time he is full of the power of philosophy over the minds of men ; by it he hopes to heal all the '^ lb. Ixxix. 51. To Sk yi ctyaObv r<^ ^i\6 lb. xvii. 1.3. 31 lb. Ixxix. 51. 8. fin. 'Avdy/cj/c Traffic iKrof ikivQ'ipav Kai niirt^ov- fllOV. lb. Ixvii. 20, fin. Oi, yd() fn) ipiXoaoipt'iv 'iTt[)i>v ri (jiaiviToi ov r\ rd a irptTTtt Kai li irpoaiiKH \6y dpxtT^ai Kai KaTaXf/yiiv, onov Kai tu dXoya' dWd fidWov ivbtf fitv dpx^'^^^h xaTaXtjytiv S' ^0' b KariXtj^tv if rifiuiv Kai jj (pvmc. KariXri^t S' iwi ^twpiav Kai TrapaKoXov^tjOtv Kai avfi- ;(Trtic>/ ^vvufitg thIq ijxivTaniaii;. lb. i. 12, fill. '20, p. 1 10, 30 ; ii. 8, in. M;iii. *i. ri ovv Itti aov ; X("/'"t favraniuiv. 206 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. From this, the principle, the general law of moral practice flows spontaneously ; viz. whatever is not in your power, that do not ever wish for. One thing only is in your control — your thoughts ; keep these within due limits, and conform them to nature. ^^^ This you may accomplish, if you will always bear in mind that you have no power over external things, and that therefore the good which ought to be the object of your earnest pursuit, is to be found within yourself. You will then be only fol- loM^ing the intelligible idea, which declares to you, that good and evil lie simply in that alone which is subject to the will, while all that accrues from without, is neither good nor evil, and therefore ought not to move your soul to complain against either God or men.^^^ You will not be troubled at any loss, but will say to yourself on such an occa- sion ; " I have lost nothing that belongs to me ; it was not aught of mine that has been torn from me, but a something which was not in my power has left me." Nothing beyond the use of your ideas is properly yours. Every possession rests on ideas. What is to cry and to weep ? An opinion. "What is misfortune, or a quarrel, or a complaint ? All these things are but opinions ; opinions founded on the delusion, that what is not subject to our own will, can be either good or evil, which it cannot. By rejecting these opinions, and seeking good and evil in the will alone, a man may confidently ^^^ Diss. ii. 1, p. 1G7. 'H olala rov dyadov tdrti' iv x^ijou (pavraffidv, Kal rov KUKov aiffavTOJC, to. d' aTrpoaiptra ovre Ttjv rov kukov dtxtrai ipiimv, ovTi TTjv rov dyadov. ^^' Diss. iii. 8. OiStiron yap a\X(^ (TvyKaTaOttffojjitOa, r) ov ^avraaia KaraXjjTrrtic^ yivtTai. STOICS. EPICTETUS. 207 promise to himself peace of mind in every con- dition of life.^^° It is evident that this moral theory is one of complete self-denial. Its object is not merely a limitation of desire to the first or most necessary wants of nature, but its complete mortification. This demand is supported by the view that reason alone can be regarded as good, and that the irra- tional is evil. The irrational alone is intolerable to the rational. ^^^ The matter on which the good man labours is chiefly his own reason ; to perfect this is in the power, as also it is the proper avocation of the philosopher.^^^ To repel evil ideas by the good is the noble contest in which man has to engage ; it is not a light one indeed, but it promises true free- dom, repose of mind, and a divine command over the emotions of the soul.^^^ It is not easy, because every one has his enemy within his own bosom ;^^^ because man is wont to look abroad for good and evil, and to trouble himself with externals ; whereas the true philosoi)her must see that the real improve- ment of the inner man requires a renunciation of all outward things ; between the two no one ought to hesitate.^*'^ There is this further danger, lest "" Man. 6 ; Diss. iii. 3, p. 3G7, sq. '*' Diss. i. 2. T'/7 XoyiTriK'/7 'O^i/i finvov dcpdptjTov trrri to uXoyov' to S' ivXoyov . "' lb. iii. 3. "YXjj roi) kuXov ku'i dyaiov to IStov ijytixoviKov. Man. 29, fin.; 4}i. "* Diss. ii. If!, p. JliO, sq.; iii. 3, p. 367. '** Man. 48. 'Evi 5i \6y<^ wc ^X-^P^" lo-vrbi' irapaipvXdffffet Kai f.irijSovXov (SC. (') irpOKOTTTdlv). '*' lb. 13. 'It^i yap, oTi ov ptfCiov ri/v irpoai()fmv Tt)v rrtavrov KUTd ifivaiv Ixovaav (pvXdtdi icni tu Iktoq' «X\(i roD tTtpov iiri^iXovfitvov rod iripov diiiXrjfrat ndira dvdyKtj. lb, 29 fin. 208 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. the evil conceptions which struggle mightily and strongly against the reason should gain the upper hand ; not twice, nor even once, ought man to sub- mit to them ; otherwise they create an inclination for themselves, an evil habit (f^tc)- This combat no one will decline who would acquire the true nerve and energy of the philosopher. ^"^^ But it is especially against the notion of pleasure that man ought to be on his guard, because it wins him by its apparent sweetness and charms. ^^'^ In order to become good a man must first of all arrive at a conviction that he is evil.^"*® Man must be circum- spect in whatever is subject to him, but bold with the external, and what is not in his own power. ^'^^ The first object of philosophy, therefore, is to purify the soul ; and there are two things principally from which it is necessary to emancipate mankind: — the presumption which believes that it stands in need of nothing ; and the distrust which considers its own strength insuflftcient for the attainment of the soul's quiet, and which will not see how many and great means are provided for man's safety. ^'^° The more difficult Epicurus believed it to be to purify the soul, the more he would naturally labour to confirm men in good by clear notions and a right intelligence. On this point he teaches generally that the general notions {TrpoXiixPtig) of good and evil are common to all, and so far that i*« Diss, ii, 8, 18. "^ Man. 34, 1" Fragra. p. 741, ap Stob. serm. i. 48. i*'-* Diss. ii. 1, p, 167. ^^ lb. iii. 14, p. 416, 8fj. Avo ravra (^tXstv rwv dvSrpwTruJV, o'itjffiv Kai aTTKTriaV olijaig fjikv ovv iari to SokiIv fi7]Stvbg irpoffdticfSrai, airiaria de TO vTTo'^afi^dvtiv fit) dvvarbv dvcu tiiptiv ae ToaovTuiv TrtpuaTriKOToJv. STOICS. EPICTETUS- 209 there can be no dispute. But on this subject he not only asserts that every one acknowledges that the good alone is profitable and to be desired, and that evil is hurtful and to be avoided ; but main- tains even that every one will admit that the just is also beautiful and becomino;/^^ It is only when there is a question as to the application of these general notions to particular cases that a diversity of opinion arises, and it is then that the darkness of ignorance, which blindly maintains the correctness of its own opinion, must be dispelled. This the philosopher attempts to do by showing that the individual entertains different and con- flicting opinions of good in particular, and that every individual, in his judgment of particular good, frequently contradicts himself. This is the refutative art of Socrates, who by this method led men to a sense of their own ionorance.^^^ This must be acknowledged before a man will wish to learn how the good may be distinguished from the bad. In the same way as geometry and music furnish measures for magnitudes and tones, so philosophy ought to provide a standard for good and evil. What is required is, from the physical notions of good and evil as certain general principles, and by assuming correct middle terms, to arrive at valid conclusions concerning good and evil in particular. This process is greatly facilitated by a conviction that the will and the works of the will are alone in • lb. i. 22; ii. II, asaumcs tfitpvroc ivvoia of Roodiiess, juBtice, and felicity, as opposed to acquired notions : e. g, tlie matliematical. '" Diss. ii. 11, p. 224, w\.; 17 ; iii, 14, p. 416, sq., 21, p. 441. IwKpartt IVVlfioilXlVl (SC. 6 StnC/* T-^l/ IXlyKTtKTfV X^p"'' *X*'*'* IV. i» 2]0 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. man's power, whereas all external things, which are the helps of life, are beyond his control. In order, however, that the correct conclusion, that good consists in nothing but the works of the will, may be steadily maintained, Epictetus allows of recourse being had to many other considerations/^^ And to this point refer his special moral maxims, all of which repeat the same thesis in a different form, and go to prove that man's internal happi- ness — the good of his soul — cannot be destroyed except by his own fault. It is unnecessary to give a complete review of these special propositions, since they are devoid of all scientific form and method. We shall only adduce a few as striking characteristics of the whole. That Epictetus would abound in the grounds of consolations usual with the Stoics, was to be expected. Every one who finds his life into- lerable is free to quit it. But the sage will not easily, and without sufficient reason, or without sure signs of the v^^ill of the gods, quit his body and his appointed station in the world. ^^^ In short, he will never find life intolerable ; he will com- plain of no one, either God or man. If any one should unjustly deprive him of aught, he will thus think : it was only lent to me, it is now taken away ; ^" lb. i. 22, p. 116. T( oiiv earl to TraihvtaSrai ; /xavBdveiv rdc (^ivffiKdg 7rpo\r]\pus (.(papfioZiiv toXq iiri fiipovQ ovaiaiQ KaraWijXujg ry (pvatc Kai \oiwov SuXtlv, on Twv uvtiov rd fiii' tlaiv i(p' I'lfiiv, rd Si ovk i' r)iuv fiiv irpoaipiaiQ Kai iravTu rd TvpoaiptTiKa tpya, ovk ioi, tskpu, iraTpig, dnXug 01 Koivwvoi. Hereupon follow long dissertations designed to remove the objections to this doctrine. >=^ lb. i. 29, p. 155 ; iii. 25, p. 510, so. STOICS. EPTCTETUS. 21 1 what matters it to me by whom the loan is re- claimed ? As long as it is allowed him he uses all things as good indeed, but as not belonging to himself; he looks upon himself as a traveller in an inn, as a guest at a stranger's table ; whatever is offered to him, he takes it with thankfulness, and sometimes, when the turn comes to him, he refuses ; in the former case he is a worthy guest of the gods, and in the latter he appears as a sharer in their power. ^^^ For the same reason he will never injure his enemies, but will rather do them good ; for he feels that contempt belongs much less to him who is unable to do evil, than to him who is not able to do good.^°^ Those who go wrong we ought to pardon and to treat with compassion, since it is from ignorance that they err, being as it were blind. ^" We moreover ought to be cautious how we blame others, for the question is really as to principles, and of these actions form no just criterion. ^■''^ When we feel ourselves unliappy we have no one to condemn but ourselves, we alone are to blame; for it is only our ideas and prin- cij)les that can render us unhappy. It is only the ignorant that finds fault with another ; he who }ias begun to cultivate his mind sees that none but liimself is to blame; but the truly educated man blames neither himself nor otiiers.^''^ Every desire degrades us, and renders us slaves of that which we '" M;in. 11, \r, »-'" Stob. Serm. xx. fil. •'' Diss. i. l(i, 2(t. »58 II, j^,_ J5 j„^ Man. 5. "Orav ovv Ifnro^iO'ofit^a f; Tapaaffui/jit^n »"/ \i/7rw/x£^n, (ii)CfTroTt aWov ct'iTiwfii-iJa, d\X' tavroui;, tovt' trrri ru idVTwv Coyfinra. diraifivrov tpyov rb dWotf tyKuXtli', k(p' oiQ avTOQ Trpdrrirti kcikioc, rfpyfiivov TraicivKjOai to iavT<^, rrtrraifievnivov rb finri dWf^, fiijTi iavTifi • 212 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. desire. We put ourselves in subjection to that which we prize, whatever may be its nature ; we ouQ-ht therefore to strive after honours and office as little as we do after leisure and learning. ^^*^ To enable man to arrive at this freedom from desire, Epictetus advances a long series of considerations intended to awaken him to a right understanding of the real nature of that which is desired, and its relation to our desires. Thus Epictetus observes, that if we love either a wife or a child we ought to bear in mind that they are but human and mortal, and thus we shall be prepared for the affliction of their death. ^^^ We ought not to forget the tran- sitory character of all external advantages, even in the midst of our enjoyment of them ; but always to bear in mind that thev are not our own, and that therefore they do not properly belong to us. Thus prepared, we shall never be carried away by ideas. Whatever happens, we shall then consider what is our capacity in respect to it. In regard to the pleasurable we have the capacity of self-denial, and in respect to the painful and laborious we have the capacity of endurance. ^^^ If a pleasure presents itself invitingly, man ought not to yield to it incon- siderately, but to remember that he will either have to rejoice at his self-denial, or to repent his want of temperance ; then the idea of pleasure will not hurry him away.^^^ Nothing is thus purchased in vain. When you lose anything, think that you have thereby purchased the self-possession of your "" Diss. iv. 1" Man. 3 ; Diss, iii.24, p. 506, sq. "» Man. 10. »" lb. 34. STOICS. EPICTETUS. 213 soul, which voLi may henceforth maintain. ^^^ In every undertaking impress upon your mind that it is not the object itself, whatever it may be, that you are to carry out, but even the maintenance of your own will in conformity with nature. If any obstacle should present itself to your design, you will not be ill-tempered, but will say to yourself, I did not wish success merely, but I also wished to maintain my own will agreeably to reason ; but this I should not do if I were to be annoyed at the result.^^ For the attainment of this self-command Epictetus does not disdain to propose certain moral exercises. Thus he recommends that all natural and inherent inclinations and aversions should be overcome by j)ractices of a contrary tendency, in order to set the will free from their control. But at the same time he disapproves of all unnatural discipline which seeks to excite admiration by its singularity and severity. ^^^ In short, the moral maxims of Epic- tetus may be briefly summed up in this, that man should know how to be free, that every one should live after his own will. This, however, is not at- tainable except by the good, who alone have their will in their power; the bad do not live as they \vi>b, they are constrained by their passions and their ideas, and fall into fear and agony, into mental trouble, which they are far from wishing.^" But this calm, this freedom from all impediment, which Epictetus promises to all his disci})les who are animated with these sentiments is, however, sufiject to a difhcult condition. This arises from "^ II.. I J. "•=* II,. ). "* DisB. lii. IJ. '"7 111. IV. I. 214 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. the necessity of renouncing not only all desire, but even all attachment to outward things. Among the emotions of the soul which Epictetus apparently regards as enemies of mental tranquillity, he even places the love of friends and even of human society in general. Believing it necessary to forbid these also, Epictetus evinces that tendency to self- ishness which we have already found occasion to notice, in tlie Cynical and Stoical schools. Thus when he proceeds to enumerate the outward things whicli a man ought not to trouble himself about, he places among them parents, brethren, and children, and even country. ^^^ It is only for ourselves that we ought to take care.^^^ It is folly to wish that our children should not do wrong : it is not in our power to effect this object, and by desiring it we are striving after the impossible. If they have given themselves up to vice, what is past cannot be undone ; and we ought not to vex ourselves on that score.^^^ To the question, ought a man to fear that if he does not punish his child it will grow up evil- disposed and wicked ? he replies, it is better that thy child should be bad than that thou shouldest be unhappy, ^^^ It would be folly if I should trouble myself about the outward good things of others ; shall I neglect my own good in order to get for another that which is no good to him?^'^ Such is "^^ lb. i 15; 22, p. 116; iii. 3, p. 364, sq. ^^^ Man. 14. "° L. 1. Ovrn) Kuv Tov iralSa OsXyQ ixr) afiapravtiv, jxi^poQ el, QeXhc yap Tt)v KUKiav ^r) tlvai KUKiav, dW dWo ri. Diss. iv. 5. "Av Si OiXy TOV v'luv j.u) Ufj.apravdi' f) ti]v yvvalica, OtXei Tci dWorpia fit) iivai aXXoTpia. '^' .\liin. 12. KptTrrov li rbv Tralca kukov e'ivai y as KriKoSaifiova. ^'^ lb. 24; Diss. iii. 3, p. 364. 'AW' tyi^ ro i/iov dyuObv VTrepidu), 'iva STOICS. EPICTETUS. 215 the tendency of the principles of Epictetus which we have hitherto considered. Still we are far from denying, therefore, that it was in such a spirit that he propounded them ; for we even find proofs to the contrary : for when, conformably to the former tendency, he forbids all commiseration for the mis- fortunes of others, he yet permits an exhibition of sympathy, insisting, however, that inwardly we ought not to feel any distress.^'^ It is singular to see Epictetus more willing to allow man to soothe another's pain by a show of sympathy than to feel a real compassion. If now in this indulgence we have to trace ano- ther feature of his cast of thought, it may well be expected of one who like Epictetus had so thoroughly examined the tendencies of his own mind, that he would have given in his doctrine a general expression to this trait. Accordingly he requires of the sage something more than the insensibility of a statue. We ought, he says, to conduct ourselves through life agreeably to our natural and social position, ob- serving piety towards the gods, and fulfilling all our duties as cliildren, brothers, parents, and citizens.^'^ For our country or friends we ought to be ready to undergo or perform the greatest difficulties and "■' Man. If). "Otuv KXaiovra 'ily<; riva iv irtvOii i) diroSrifiovvTO^ TfKvov II diroXinXiKora rn iurnov, ir^oiixf /"'/ fff »'/ (pavTania avvapTrday o'»j Iv KaKoic ovTOQ nvTov rolg tKTug • dW tiiOvc icrrut TrpvxtHiov, uri TOVTOV OXiftn oil TO (Tviifitj3iiKr,i; • dWoi' ydfi oli OXijin • dXXd to Suyfia ri) itpi TOVTOV • filxfx p-ivToi Xoyov ^i) ijKvti (TvinrtiiKptpifrOtii aiiTifi, kuv ovTtD Tv\y, Kui avviTTiaTivd^ai • vpoatxi /iivToi, p.i) Kai taujUtv OTt- vdtyi.: "' Diss. iii. 2, p. ."..");». Ov yap In jit tlvai dTraOij mq dr^fudiTrt, dXXu r«c (T;^f(itit r;/(»orii'r<( rug ^ixriKfic <«' »7rt0»roi'i-, wt fuff'/^i/, wf i;td»/, wj; (i^iXtpop^ WC Trartpciy ojg noXirtiv. 21G PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. sufferings. ^'^ If the sage has chosen the vocation of philosophy, he may doubtless have had in view the tranquillity of his own mind, but at the same time he looked to be a model and a guide to good unto the young.^'^ There is, he finds, such a close dependence of man upon man, that whoever wishes to live tranquil and content, must endeavour to make his neighbours also virtuous men/" How incon- sistent is this with a former declaration, that a man ought to care for his inward self alone, and wholly to disregard all external advantages ! Epictetus finds indeed a means to reconcile them in the Stoical doctrine, which, however, might assuredly have taught him that what we call external is not so thoroughly extrinsic as it may seem. When Epictetus reflects upon the difficulty of conquering the natural inclination to evil ideas, he takes care not only to remind us of what is in our power and what not, and to impress on us all kinds of good rules for the right appreciation of things, but he also permits us to invoke the divine aid.^'^^ Herein indeed his moral theory raises itself to a freer flight, which, while it adopted indeed the olden piety of the Stoical doctrine, did not belie the pre- vailing tendency which had alienated his age from a superstitious reverence from the ancient deities."^ When, he says, we come to think tliat God is the '" Man, 32; Diss. ii. 7. "'' Diss, iii. 21, p. 441, ^^^ Stob. Serm. i. 57. Ei jSoiXft arapa^^wg Kal tvapktTTuig ^ijv, ntipui ToiiQ ffwoLKOVVTCLQ ffoi ovfiiravTaQ dyaOovg fx*'*'* ^'"' Diss, ii, 18, p. 281. Tov Otov jxifiv^ico • iKtivov iirtKaXov ^otjObv Kal irapacTTaTTjv. "^ Epictetus speaks, it is true, occasionally of the gods ; he recommends sacrifices, and to make offerings agreeably to ancestral customs with exactitude STOICS. EPICTETUS. 217 father of gods and mei], that we are his sous, how highly does the idea exalt us? This thought admits of nothing ignoble, nothing sordid. ^^° The essence of God is goodness ; he has given us all good that could be given, a part of himself — that god, that demon which dwells within us ; close the door, exclude the outward light ; thou wilt not be alone, thou wilt not be in darkness, but thou wilt find God within there, and a light which illumi- nates all thy deeds. ^^^ We owe all to God ; all is his gift, and we ought therefore to use it agreeably to his will. The senses and all their attendant mechanism were not given us without a design ; this therefore we ought earnestly to try to fulifil. But the present for which we ought most to thank him, and which we ought to be most anxious to use rightly, is his highest gift of reason, which is to estimate all things agreeably to his will; to which all else is subservient, while it alone rules freely, and by means of our other faculties accomplishes all its works. ^^^ The gods too gave us our bodies, a small part undoubtedly of the whole, and which, compared with the magnitude of the world, can be scarcely reckoned as anything. But they have also given us the greatest treasure that and piety; he even admits the veracity of the oracles. But, for the most part, he tipeai<» of God or Zeus ; he derides ail resi)fct for the teaching of the fibres, and will not acknowledge the punishments of Tartarus: two points which had been assailed for a long time. Hut above all, he gives no countenance to the hope of immortality. Man. ."51,32; Diss. i. If), p. 104;22,p. )l!i; ii.7; iii. l.'i.p. 413. "" Diss. i. .'',. '"" Ih. 14, p. n.'i. "Q-re' i)Tav KXtiarfrt tcLq Ovncti: Kcti OKoroq ivSov TTOiijmjTt, fiffjiv7]n9f ftrjl'tnort Xiytiv, on jjiovoi tare, ov yap iari • aX\ o fhui; tvlov tori, K(tl 6 vftfTfpoQ Saifiwv iori • icoi Ti'f ronroef xpticc i})i»-!if; tir TO ftXinni', ri nnit'iri f '" lb. ii. 23. 218 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. we possess, the soul and reason, which is not measured by breadth or depth, but by knowledge and sentiments, and by which we attain to greatness, and may equal even with the gods. We ought, there- fore, to cultivate it with especial care, and to place in it all our good. If God has deemed us worthy of this most excellent gift, we may also be confident that he has arranged all things in the best manner, if only we will duly apprehend their real value. ^^^ From this position he proceeds to draw the con- sequence that we ought not to seek to alter the external relations in which we find ourselves, since we cannot make them better than what they are as arranged by God ; but we must make our senti- ments suitable to our given relations.^^* If we wish for nothing but what God wills, we shall be truly free, and all will come to pass with us accord- ing to our will ; and we shall be as little subject to restraint as Jupiter himself.^*^^ In this religious exaltation, Epicurus finds the means of connecting every individual with the rest of the world, whom, however, he appeared to wish to separate from the rest so long as he was striving to instruct him in the moral shaping of his sentiments alone. But the whole world is equally a work of God ; he has fashioned it for universal harmony. The wise man, therefore, will pursue, not merely his own will, but as in all things he submits himself to due measure, so also he will be subject to the "*^ lb. i. 12, p. 77. OvK olffOa, i'iXikov fi^pog npog ra oXa ; tovto Si Kara ''6 awfxu. i}Q Kara yt rbv Xuyov ovSt xiipujv rwv Oeaiv, oiiSk fiiKportpog • Xoyuv yap ji'tytQoQ oh /t/;K£i, ov5' vt\i(.i Kpiverai, aXXd Soyfiaaiv. oh GiXtiQ ovv Ka9' ti 'iffog tl Tolg Otolc, tKtX nov TiOtaOai to dyaOov ; '*" lb. p. 7o; Man. 31, '"^ Diss. ii. 17, p. 270. STOICS. EPICTETUS. 219 rio-litfiil order of the world.^*^^ The whole is better than the part, the state than the single citizens. Thou, O man, art but a part of the whole, a citizen of the universal state ; submit thyself therefore to the whole ; wish not the best for thyself, but for the state, to which thou belongest. Remember that thou hast to maintain a determinate position in the world ; thou oughtest therefore to live conform- ably therewith ; for it comprises all duties towards parents, brethren, country, and friends : all that is required in order to a perfect unison with the world, is to know and to perform this. The good man, if he were able to foresee the future, would even peacefully and contentedly help to bring about his sickness, maiming, and even death, knowing that these have been allotted him in tlie order of the universe. ^^^ We ought therefore to acknowledge that we have all a certain part to play in the world, and no one ought to wish for a part greater than he can fulfil : he has done enough when he has performed what his nature admits of.^^^ Every one will naturally ask, how a man is to know what is his allotted ]jart in the world ? When this question presented itself to Epictetus, he was at no loss for an answer. He says : as the ox in the herd knows what his office is, so each one may know from the endowments which he has received '■^ lb. i. 12, p. 7-2,8fi(|. '" II). ii. 9, p. 19.); 10, p. 21'), 8(|q. Aid Tovro icnXwc Xiyovrrtv ot i/iiXd- aoipoi, ioTi ti wpoylti 6 KaXog icai dynOof to. iaofjitvay rrvviniytt dv Kai nii vuffi'iv Krti Tifi (iTToOviirXKHv Kui TrijfxjvtjOat, alrOnvofiivoQ y(, on Airb TijQ Tuiv oXbtv iiaTu'iiwt^ rovTo dnv7'(^tTui. (fiijiiwTfjiov ii ro '6\ov row fjtpoii^ Kui »; TToXig roil iroXiroi'. "^ II). i. 2; Man. 24, 'M. 220 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. from nature what he ought to perform ; only he will remember that no man, any more than an ox, can arrive at once and without practice to his full force. ^^^ In the exercise therefore of our powers, we may become aware of the destiny which we are in- tended to fulfil. Thus, then, on this point also Epic- tetus refers every man to himself — his own peculiar consciousness ; we can therefore no longer feel sur- prised if Epictetus was unable to give a general and scientific exposition of his ethical doctrines. With him all came ultimately to this : hat every one must discover in himself his moral destination; accordingly, his doctrines naturally liad no other end than to stimulate the will to this disco- very, and to strengthen it by exhortations. His whole doctrine necessarily assumed an ascetical form. The moral theory of Epictetus has at difl^rent times been compared with the Christian ; and no one can deny that, with many essential differences, there are also mau}^ points of resemblance between them. The latter consist chiefly in the religious direction, which the precepts of Epictetus have taken. In following this direction, they have risen superior to that philosophical pride, which in the case of many others of its members, has proved a fruitful ground of reproach against the Stoics. Not only- does Epictetus forbid his sage to indulge a proud ^*' Diss. i. 2, p. 18. 'EnvQtTo tiq, noOtv ovv alcrOriffofitOa tov Kara TrpocrttiTTOV sKaarog ; Il69cv S' 6 ravpoc, t(pr), \iovtoq tntKQovroQ fiovoc aiaOuvtrai ttiq aiirov Tra^mffKtVTJg /cai TrpOjSt/SXtjKej/ iavrbv inkp rfJQ ayf.XrjQ Traffjjf ; ^ ^^Xov, on. tvOvg llfia rtf ti)v TrapauKevTjv tx*'*" atravTq. Kai a'laOijmg avrfig ; Kai ijfiwv roivvt' oarig av t^ot roiairtjv 7ranaaKeut]v, ovk dyvorjUli ai.Tu)Q ixov, wc iiiTo Toil ^lov Tiray/itvog (I'c TavTrjv rr)v x^P""- ^ ^- W»fc. Anton, xii. 2fi. Oiifikv iCiov ohltvoQ, aWa Kni to t'ikvwv ku'i rh (Toifidrinv Kai aiirb to ipvxdpwi' UtWiv {tK rot" ^toi>) iXrjXi'Gtv. '" I. 7. Epictetus is also mentioned, iv. 41 ; vii. in ; xi. 34, 36—31). '222 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. difference only, that for the most part they have a special and personal relation to himself, while those of Epictetus were designed for his disciples gene- rally. This is particularly noticeable, when the virtuous and noble emperor limits the general precept, "trouble not yourself about others," by conditions, providing that public advantage does not suffer, or that a man's demon be not destined to a Roman and political life, or to the functions of 194 a sovereign. Such being the nature of his moral maxims, we might pass them over without further observation, if they did not afford occasion to some remarks, which will strikingly elucidate the direction pursued by the later Stoics. ^^^ These, when com- pared with the earlier members of the Porch, appear singularly defective in science. Whatever bears a scientific character is repugnant to them ; and accordingly it is the favourite practice of the later Stoics, to express their opinions in brief, un- connected maxims. Antoninus formally censures all researches into natural objects, in which man forgets to be alone entirely with himself, and to be devoted to his inner demon. ^^^ This censure forcibly calls to mind the injunction of Epictetus, to shut up the senses, which are as it were doors leading outwards, in order to enjoy the "* III. 4, 5. Cf. ix. 29. ^'^ For more precise information of the special doctrines of Antoninus, we refer to De Marco Aurelio Antonino imperatore philosophante ex ipsius com- mentariia scriptio philologica. Instituit Nic. Bachius. Lips. 1826. 8. ^^® II. 13. OuSiv aOXidiTepov tov iravTa kvkKi^ eKmpiepxofitvov Kai ra v'ipBtv yag, ^tfiriv, tpevvwvTog ical to, tv toIq \pvxaiQ tu)v TrXijffiov Sid tik- fiapcxewQ ^r}TovvroQ, fir/ alaQofiivov Se, on aQKtl vpoQ fiovt^ T(^ ivSov iavTOV Saifiovi tlv al Kai tovtov yvtjaiujQ BrtpaTrevtiv, STOICS. M. AURELIUS ANTONINUS. 223 internal liglit of our demon. Such, assuredly, were not the ideas of the older Porch, which taught, that all knowledge of truth must be drawn from sensuous perception. Antoninus, however, is full of such injunctions. As the sum of all morality, he insists that we should preserve our demon pure and incorrupt, that we should turn into ourselves, there renew ourselves, and there find repose. ^^^ He draws a broad distinction between what we are in ourselves — our reason, and what our lot in life has joined to us, and then he requires that we should entirely purify ourselves from the latter, if we would lead a free and peaceful life.^^^ When we thus see the Stoics desiring nothing beyond peace of mind, which they hope to attain by with- drawing entirely from the external world, and con- sidering themselves as nothing more than indiffe- rent instruments of the divine will, in the stream of the vain and outward life, we lose sight for ever of the old doctrine of the Porch, which placed all ex- cellence even in the life of the world, in the con- stant flux of vital activity. The later Stoics wished, it is true, to form a bold and manly spirit, but it is a passive rather tlian an active courage that they enforced ; their great object was, to learn to bear exile and death, The earlier Stoical doctrine undeniably contained tin; germ of tliis view. But there it was adopted, rather as a counteractive '" III. 12 ; iv. :'.. Xwixf^JS ovv Sicov atavrip ravTiiv rfiv arax'-V'/'^n' (cai uvavlov (suivTov. VII. '2.'i, ."if). Ilis forms of expression arc, ti'c uivri>v iivax^ipiiv, t/g avrbv ffvvtiXtlirGai, ti'c^ov pXtirnv. "* XII. 3. '" The vanity of all things is a favourite topic witli Antonino ; hw fir in- stance in the tenth book 11, 18, 31 (oi;rwc yap avpixioc ^^""9 ''f dfOponrirrt Kairvbv kui to fitfdiv. Cf. xii. 27, 33), 34. 224 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY. of the growing effeminacy of the age, than as a result of the scientific direction, which the first Stoics followed ; and as the tendency of this was, to consider all in its co-ordination to the universe, they necessarily abstained from requiring such an uncon- ditional retiring of the rational soul within itself as Antoninus does. The latter in fact exhibits the rational soul in a wholly peculiar light, and is dis- posed to represent it apart from all connection with with the world. External things, he holds, do not affect the soul in the least ; they have no admission into it ; they cannot move or change the soul ; it alone moves itself. ^°° The liberty which he ascribes to reason is so unconditional, that it cannot be dis- turbed by any outward impediment in its natural movement, whereas all else, as Aristotle teaches, may be moved against and contrary to its nature.^°^ This is truly a singular and foreign interpolation in the nature of the whole. As Antoninus rejects with contempt all the perishable and vain things of life, so philosoph}'^ even has no other value in his eyes, than as it is calculated to preserve unimpaired the purity of his demon, ^°^ and apparently forgets that this demon also is, in his opinion, as perishable as the other elements of the body.^"^ But while we censure this development of the *'° V. 19. Ta irpayfiara avrd ovS' bwuiffriovv tp^xvC uTrrtrai' oiide lx«t f'laoSov irpof 4'^X^I'''' ovci Tpetj/aL ouSe Kivijaai ipvx^v SvvaTai' rpsirti Si Kui Kivtl ahrfi favTtjv fiovrj. This is singular since the soul is merely civaQviiiaaiQ d, a Hckk. may bo consulted. Q / CHAPTER IV. ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY, AND THE NEW SCEPTICS. ~ The value of the erudite philosophy of this age, and its relation to the Roman, have already been determined precisely enough to make it clear that the further development and life of this period did not proceed from this side. Nevertheless the an- cient, even when it is effete, still continues to live on with us, and still enters into our development, though it be with only a counteracting influence. It is therefore necessary to examine these traditions in the extent and form in which they were delivered to those times of which it is our object to investi- gate the character. We have already traced the propagation of the Epicurean and Stoical doctrines. Of the latter we have yet to notice another branch which carried forward, as mere matters of history, the ancient doctrines of the Porch, and proceeded collaterally with the other, which took a decidedly moral direction. Its existence is evinced by the frequent outbreaks of the Stoics already mentioned, and of Epictetus in particular, against contemporaneous philosophers, who were for the most part employed on logical questions ;^ and still more clearly proved * Epict. Diss. iii. 2, p. 359. 01 Si vvv . 11, sij, ed llcins. " Akin, (le Doctr. Plat. 7, 10. ^ Max. Tyr. Diss, xxxviii. * lb. Diss, xxxiv. 232 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. be asserted, that every virtuous pursuit is at the same time a pursuit of pleasure ; and that consequently Diogenes the Cynic had only taken the shortest way to pleasure, and that the legislative enactments of Lycurgus and the Athenians had the same end in view.^ If now the rhetorical treatises of Maximus Tyrius afford proofs of this moderate sentiment, so on the other hand, the undoubtedly dry and uncouth work of Alcinous is of value, as proving decisively the disposition of the later Platonists, to claim for their master the inventions and discoveries of subsequent philosophers. The divisions of philosophy which were given by Peripatetics and Stoics, Alcinous transfers without remark to the Platonic philoso- phy;^" he ascribes to Plato an acquaintance with all the figures of the syllogism, because he uses them ; he also finds the ten categories in the Par- menides and other dialogues of Plato ;" the contra- riety of energy and potentiality is quite current with him.^^ In the same manner, he does not hesitate to make virtue to be the faculty of finding the mean between two opposite passions. ^^ In these and similar instances, Alcinous inconsiderately fol- lows the inclination of philosophical schools, to ascribe to their founders every particular of know- ledge which a later age may have acquired. In such an attempt, it could not but happen that doctrines and modes of thinking would be assigned to the Platonic philosophy totally foreign to it, and " Ibid. Diss, xxxiii, ^° Cap. 3, 4. « lb. 6. " E. g. ib. 2, 8. " Ib. c. 29; cf. also, Calvisius Taurus, b. Gell. i. 2C. LEARNED STOICS. ALCINOUS. 233 of which it did not even contain the germ. The views of the universe and of science, which were thereby diffused, altogether assumed a new shape. The most opposite doctrines to the Platonic now cease almost to differ from it, when we find the term or idea of matter ever3^where equated with that of God. Not only does Maximus Tyrius refer the cause of all evil which does not flow from the human will, to matter which could not be formed by the fashioning energy of God, for the supreme artist was unable to form it, without, as it were, sparks from the anvil, or smuts from the furnace, flying about ; but^^ Alcinous even supposes the eternity of the world to be reconcilable with the doctrine of Plato ; nay more, he holds that the soul of the world also, and its reason is eternal, as well as matter. It is only improperly that it can be said of God, that he made this soul ; since he only im- proved, or as it were awakened it out of a profound sleep, and by exciting in it the desire to know its own ideas — the objects of intellectual coguition — permitted forms and ideas to arise in it.^'^ Now the ground of this view is in short an opinion, that the ideas arc tlie thoughts of God, wliich served as models for the artistic activity of the world-form- ing God, and of which, therefore, it is man's object to gain a knowlege; but at the same time, it does not exclude the doctrine, that they are also substances in '* Max. Tyr. Diss. xxv. p. 25G. '"^^ '* Akin. It. Kal rffv »^i'x')»' ^^ <*** ovcav rov ic<5- •', "• 2^ lb. 7. ■■'» lb. It. 236 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. attacked for holding that virtue is insufficient for happiness, and for denying the immortality of the soul, of heroes and of demons, rejecting the provi- dential care of the gods for men and things in the sublunary world, and for limiting the power of God by the denial that he cannot preserve the world from decay, although it was created by him.^^ This controversial attack upon Aristotle exhibits a certain pious enthusiasm ; for Atticus refuses to regard his opponent in a better light than Epicurus, because he had denied the most essential principle of provi- dence for us, viz. the providential care of man ; but it cannot b? said of it that it evinces a right under- standing, or even an ingenious apprehension of the doctrine ; and so, perhaps, even here we may trace in the tendency of these times a decided prepon- derance towards a mixture of schools. Some other Platonists of this time would now demand our attention if it did not appear to us more advisable to postpone our notice of them to the time when we shall have to treat of the mixture of Oriental ideas with Grecian philosophy ; for, as we formerly observed, it was chiefly to the Platonic philosophy that these attached themselves. We shall therefore close our remarks upon the neo- Platonists, who by their leading features belong to the erudite tendency of this age, with a few observ- ations calculated to elucidate their relation to other phenomena of the time. The manner in which the Platonists already mentioned introduced the Roman element into this mixture, was chiefly by the pre-eminence they gave to ethics over the other '« lb. 4,5,6, 9, 12. LEARNED STOICS. SCEPTICISM. 237 parts of philosophy. Logical investigations they lightly esteemed. If philosophy consisted in logic there would, they argued, be no want of teachers of it. No philosopher would deign to pay any attention to dialectic if it were not necessary. But the most important business of philosophy is to acquire a knowledge of the gods and to lead man to virtue.^' There is yet another remark connected with this subject, and suggested by the treatises of Maximus T^^rius : in the dogmatical review of the Platonic doctrine which Alcinous laboured to give, the opinions of the school were naturally exhibited as free from all difficulty ; nevertheless, it was impos- sible even here to suppress all doubt as to the sense of the Platonic theory of ideas ; and moreover as it was firmly believed, that the good did not admit of being expressed directly, and without the aid of figures, this was also a fertile source of dispute as to what in the Platonic doctrine was to be taken in a fiffurative and what in a literal sense. How near akin to the doctrine itself, and to what lengths this doubt was calculated to lead, we know too well from the fact that tlie New Academy was the offspring of the Old. Now if we further reflect, that a mere lite- rary handling of philosophy, whenever it is pursued with freedom, and not closely shackled in the fetters of school forms, naturally feeds a certain Eclcctical questioning, our wonder will cease at finding in the mode of thought and conceptions of Maximus "" Max. Tyr. Diss, xxxvii. p. 873, Bqq., Alcin. 3,27; Attic, ap. Eusub. Pr. Ev. IV. 4. That Maximus (DisH. vi.) and Alcinous (c. 2.) pri'ffrrcd tlicury to practice does in no wisu militate against this. The work of Muximus already quoted throws light upon this point. 238 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. many subjects treated in the mere light of probable opinions. He is fond of opposing different positions of philosophy to each other, not merely in order to display his rhetorical facility, but rather as if he had to decide upon them from the tribunal, and in the hope of coming to a just decision. To indi- cate his agreement with Plato he usually closes the deliberation by adducing his opinion as that of phi- losophy herself. But still he is far from concealing the fact, that as in judicial affairs so in philosophy also, there is much of probability to be advanced in support of conflicting opinions. Philosophy he wishes to consider as the oracle of the beautiful and the good, and the way to happiness ; but he con- fesses that he has found the oracle too ambiguous, and too many parties among philosophers for her responses to be implicitly obeyed. In this respect philosophy is unlike the other sciences, the farther they advance the more nearly they approach the end ; but philosophy, the richer she is in ideas, exhibits a greater number of conflicting but nicely balanced claims to truth, and judgment becomes the more difficult. ^^ How happily has he here expressed the fate, not indeed of philosophy herself, but yet of the Grecian philosophy of his day. It had become old ; it wanted courage for youthful renovation, for vigorous progress, in which alone it could find security and increase. The riches ^ Diss. xix. p. 199, sq. ; Diss, xxxiv. in. XaXnrbv tvpfiv \6yov dXtj^rj. KivSvvtvsi yap r) roi) av^puTTOv 4'*'X') ^'' ivTropiav tov ippoviiv rov Kpivtiv aTTOOiiv. Kal a'l fiiv oKkai rs^vai Trpoau) iovaai Kara. t>]v tvpiffiv ivaro- X^Ttpai yiyvovTUL tKuart] mpl tu avrtjc ipya. ^ol^u Twv ivr]Ti!>v tlvai \ar>iv. 248 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. results from its activity indeed, but without its knowledge and will, and without design {rrapa \6yov). For it is thus only that it can be said of a man, that he has accidentally or collaterally invented a matter, if, without knowledge and without will, and beginning his plan with a wholly different design, he has stumbled upon it. But now such is not the nature of the divine providence ; but it is both with will and knowledge that they care for man, and are the sources of all the good things of life, and of all that he stands in need of, although it is not simply for man's sake that they exercise and perfect their activity. There must, therefore, be a mean between absolute providence and mere contingent provi- dence.'' In these reasonings of Alexander of Aphrodisias upon providence, he manifestly evinces a strong desire to adopt and set himself in unison with the pious sentiment, which in his times began to prevail in philosophy, witliout, however, remitting in any degree the principle of his school, which pre-emi- nenth^ insisted upon the due recognition of the natural connection of all forces and phenomena. Accordingly, he does not allow himself to be carried avvav by the polemic of the Platonists into the ad- mission that the world, although it must have been created in time, may, nevertheless, by the will of God, be rendered indestructible; for, he argues, that what according to its nature belongs to a thing, cannot even by God be separated from it ; and in support thereof, he appeals to the assertion of Plato, that evil is necessary in the world, because evil « L. i. fol. 16 b. GALEN. 249 belongs to the nature of perishable things.'*^ Equally unwilling is he, in deference to these oppo- nents, to remit anything from the strict principle of the Aristotelian theory of the soul ; on the contrary, a leading point in his controversy with the Platonists is, that the soul is not a self-moving essence, but that it is a materialized form (iwXov ttSoc), and that consequently it cannot be in and by itself immortal. '^'^ Now the more zealously that this erudite philo- sophy occupied itself with scholastic controversies, the more closely that it confined its labours to the exposition of the doctrines of the several schools, and the elucidation of the works of their respective founders, attaching itself, for the most part, with a narrow-minded servility and superstitious respect to the written letter ; and the more consequently it was driven to forced meanings, and the less it was able to seize the s})irit of an entire system, and to exhibit it from a comj)rehensive point of view, which is almost universally wanting in the summaries com- posed for the use of students ; — the more food was furnished to the rapidly growing spirit of Scep- ticism. Before, however, we can enter upon the history of the later Sceptics, we have yet to mention a learned individual of tliis age, who, altlioiigli he chiefly employed himself with a widely different branch of science, is nevertheless, of considerable im])ortance for the history of pliilosopliy. We " lb. i. 18. *" lb. ii. It ; (le Anima, i. fol. 12G,a. "On dxtopiorog t) \pvx>i roi) au)fiaToi;. Or iffri \pvxi]. 250 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. allude to the famous physician Claudius Galeiius, who was somewhat older than Alexander of Aphro- disias, and flourished in the period which extends from M. Aurelius to Severus. The end which this individual had proposed to himself in his literary labours was, upon the basis of his own ex- perience and a few traditionary principles of the school of Hippocrates, to erect a perfect system of medical science by the application of certain logical rules and ideas derived from the older philosophy. How far he may have been successful in this at- tempt, and the degree of skill which marked his execution of it, lies not in our province to deter- mine. But, on the other hand, Galen properly falls within our notice, so far as he laid claim to be a teacher of philosophy, and diff'used it both in works exclusively philosophical, and in others designed to establish his own medical theories. Now the nature of these attempts is far from being a matter of indifference ; both because, generally, the medical profession on which the writings of Galen primarily acted, was in high estimation, and con- sequently necessarily exercised a great influence on the philosophical opinions of the age, and also because in particular, the development of a learned art of medicine is intimately connected with the history of the late Scepticism. Even before the time of Galen, a philosophical habit of thought, as was naturally to be expected, had established itself among medical men, and Dog- matical schools had arisen among them, which either advocated the Epicurean theory of atoms, or professed Stoical dogmas, as did the so-called Pneu- GALEN. 251 matici. But these schools have no claim to our notice, as they did not introduce any change in phi- losojDhy. But in opposition to these Dogmatical physicians, and to the confusion in which their pre- conceived interpretations of experience threatened to involve medical science, another party arose, whose purpose it was to adhere strictly to ex- perience, without entering upon any philosophical investigation of principles. Galen, however, re- fused on the one hand, to join these pure Empirics in ahsolutely abandoning such speculations ; while, on the other, he was far from satisfied with the views and conclusions of the more philosophical. He accordingly adopted a course of his own ; and for the purpose of his own explanations, adopted an Eclectical method, which although for the most part it drew from the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle, did not nevertheless disdain to avail itself of cer- tain Stoical opinions, which at this time had gained general currency in science. By tlie very nature of his profession Galen was naturally led to look to experience as an unerring source of knowledge. In this he had such confidence, that he never entered into any controversy in which, as a pre- liminary point, the belief in the truth of plieno- mena had to be established.'^^ By this method he escaped the necessit}' of a thorough examination into the significancy of phenomena, and of tlie higher ideas on which their explanation is depen- dent. But according to his opinion, tlie phenomenon must form the basis of all reasoning designed to The doubters of the truth of phenomena he calls dypoiKOTrvi^jjuvtiovc. Dc TriEnot. ad I'osth. 5, p. r,2n, Kiihn. 252 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. establish a correct knowledge of the non-apparent, as the ground of the apparent. Accordingly he com- pares those who neglect proofs and the theory of proofs, with those who would wish to understand astronomy without having studied mathematics and geometry.^^ He therefore insists upon the necessity of logical exercises as essentially necessary to the accurate formation of any science,^^ and he himself appears to have devoted no little industry to this branch of philosophical inquiry, if we consider the long list of logical writings which are given in the catalogue of his works. He awakens our sympathy when he declares, that in his youth he wished for nothing so much from philosophers, as that they should furnish him with an unerring theory of reasoning, but that his hope had been disappointed. For even on this subject he finds among them, he says, a variety of opinions and discrepancies, not to say manifestly false doctrines. He says, therefore, that the praise is not due to his teachers, if he did not abandon himself 1o the doubts of the Pyrrhonists; but that he is indebted to the mathematical sciences, the old and hereditary study of his family, for his confidence in science, and that consequently he at- tempted to sketch for himself, a theory of proofs in the manner of geometry.^* It is a trait in his character deserving of notice, that he was less favourable to the Platonic and Stoical logic than to the Aristotelian.^^ In his extant writings, Galen, " De Constit. Art. Med. 8, fin. p. 254. ^' De Elem. ex Hipp. i. 6, p. 4G0 ; quod opt. med. sit quoque iihil. p. 60. . " De Libr. Propr. 1 1 . " L. i. ; ib. 16. He writes, "On ») ytcjfiiTpiKi) avaXwrticj) aiitivatvrrjs twv SrajiKiiiv. GALEN. 253 however, is far removed from the short and accu- rate method of geometry, and this is the case not merely with such works as, belonging by their subject to experience, do not admit of any great rigour of demonstration ; but even in works especi- ally of a philosophical character, he abandons him- self without restraint to rhetorical prolixity, and it is only seldom that, under the swell of sounding w^ords, a correspondingly important idea is found. That he is deficient in that rigour of regulated thought, which alone can make logical investiga- tions of a subtler kind fruitful, is proved clearly enough by his work on ' Sophisms,' in which he at- tempts to furnish the proof which is wanting in Aristotle, that no more than the six fallacies ad- duced by the latter, are possible, and this he hopes to effect by a division which he has borrowed from another source, and ver}'^ awkwardly applied.''^ The philosophical works of Galen are not very numerous, except upon ethical subjects. The study of ethics he strongly recommended to physicians, not merely on the ground of the connection subsist- ing between the body and the soul, but even in a lofty tone bade them to consider the dignity of their avocation, and exhorted them, therefore, to practise morality and to suppress all low passions, in order that they might cultivate their profession more zea- lously and successfully." Of this part, however, of •• The principle which forms the groundwork of liis division is this : tliat every sophism is founded on a vcrl)al Jimbifjuity : tliat tliis may cither lie in Bin^le, e'luivocal terms, or else arise from the structure of the )iroposition ; tliat further, the ambiguity may be either real, or possible, or conccjjtional. Of the first, he admits two kinds, three of the second, but only one of the third. De Sophism, c. 2. '^ Quod opt. mcd. sit quofpie phil. p. fiO, s(|. 254 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. the philosophy of Galen ; we have nothing further to remark than that it attached itself entirely to the Platonic doctrine. Physical investigations, as immediately connected with his profession, naturally attracted no incon- siderable portion of his attention. Nevertheless, we do not think it necessary to give a lengthy exposi- tion of his physiology^ since in details it is based upon experience, and in its general principles fluctu- ates indifferently between Plato and Aristotle, and the Stoics. A few instances will suffice to convey an idea of his physical Eclecticism. His profession led him by preference to the investigation of orga- nic nature. Accordingly he pursued no branch of physical inquiry with more industry than the dis- covery of design in the structure of the several mem- bers. In these inquiries he adopted the teleological views of Plato and Aristotle, without, however, slavishly adhering to either, since his independent researches into the structure of the human frame necessarily led him to peculiar results. This part of physics he estimated so highly, that he believed it to be the introduction to a true theology.'^^ He is consequently full of praises of the divine wisdom, which is so manifestly traceable in the formation of living creatures. However, this tendency of his philosophical view is little in unison with the basis of his medical theory, which reduces everything to a combination of the elements, and pays but little regard to the power which forms and sustains the ^^ De Usu Part. xvii. 1, p. 360, 'H Trtpt XP^'-^^ /iop'nov Trpayfiartia Gto- XoyictQ UKpifiovg aXtiOug apX') KaraaTi^aiTai, ttoXv fiii^ovog tb kuI TiniojTipov irpdyfiaroi; oXjjc rrjc larpiKflg. GALEN. 255 living creature. For he sets out, from the composi- tion of the four elements — on which his ideas are nearly coincident with those of the Stoics ^^ — from the composition and due mixture of these the humours are formed ;^° and of these, in the next place, the homogeneous, and lastly the hetero- geneous, parts of the body. Accordingly the ob- ject of all his medical precepts is to promote or to restore in all parts a due mixture ; and in agreement with this fundamental view he must necessarily have conceived his whole theory. In general, it is manifest that his investigations throughout are dependent on the practical end of his art. Indeed, he is far from concealing his conviction that all in- vestigations which go beyond the practical — such as speculations on God's nature, his relation to the world, and the question whether the world is eternal or created, and the like — are useless displays of ingenuity; and in support of such a view, appealed to tlie authority of Socrates, Xenophon, and even Plato.''^ No art which does not promote the ends of existence, is deserving the name.*^^ Now the doctrine of the soul might perhaps appear to him to be of more value than investigations into the mutual relations of the highest ideas ; but, as we formerly hinted, he entered into this subject less fully than *'■' Do Elcm. ex Hipp. i. G, p. AQH. lie considers them ns extremes of tlie simple qualities. *** This is grounded on the principle that the living Ixidy must contain all the simple elements. lb. H, fin. Iv|ua]ly impossible is it for the body to contain any element in purity; for it docs not admit of extreme purity. Do Temp. i. 1. " Uc llij.i), et Plat. I'lac. ix. 7, p. 779, sfjfj. " Adliort. ad Art. Add. 9. 'Onoffoii rioy IniTrjhviidTwv ovk tan tu TfXoQ /3i(iJ0cX(c, ravr' ovk tltr'i Ti\vai, 256 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. into that of the material composition of the body. This explains at once the Eclectical and Sceptical manner in which he treats of the soul. He evinces, indeed, a disposition to adopt the Aristotelian defini- tion of it, for he declares that the Platonic doctrine, that the soul is incorporeal, is unintelligible, since in that which is incorporeal, no distinctions are dis- coverable ; whereas souls are evidently different one from another ; and because it is difficult to see how the soul can diffuse itself over the body if it had no part in body.^^ For the same reason he denies the cogency of Plato's arguments in favour of its immortality,*^^ and thinks that the essence of the soul has never been scientifically determined, and consequently that it is impossible to form even a pro- bable opinion on the subject.^^ And he at the same time expresses his dissent from the opinion of the Platonists, that the soul, which is diffused over the whole world, is the source of all living things ; since, to his mind, it closely borders upon impiety to sup- pose that the divine essence would place its formative energy in the lowest kinds of animal life, even loath- some vermin. *^^ But, if in these points he differs " Quod AnimiMor. Corp. Temp. Seqii. 3, p. 776. Aid to nt) yivwaKiiv fit T>)v oxjd'iav Ti)Q i^i'X'/C oTToia rig tcjTiv^ ik tov ykvovg raiv daajfiaraiv VTTodeiitvwv rifimv v-rrapxtiv avTtjv. iv filv yap awfiaTi Tag Kpdffsig 6pu> irdfiTroXv Tt hiai^tpovaag aX\)j\wv (cai TrajUTroXXac ovaag • dawfidrov S' ovaiag avriig kuO' tavTi)v elvai Svvafif.vr]g, ovk ovfftjg Si TroioTTjTog tf tiSovg tjwfiaTog ovSijiiav vow Sia^opdv, kuLtoi iroWaKig iniaKiy^^afXivog Tt Kal Zr]T7](jag ETrifieXuig • dW ovSk, ttuiq oiiStv ovaa tov awfiaTog tig oXov ai)TO SvvaiT dv tKTtivtffOai. lb. c. 5, p. 785, sqq. " lb. c. 3, fin. ''^ De Foet. Format. 6, p. 700. 'AXX', orrtp ttptjv, ovScfiiav ivplaKtav So^av dTroSiStiyiJ,ivr]v iTTKTTrjfxoviKwg aTropiiv ofioXoyH TTfpi ^I'XVQ oiKTiag, ov5' cixpi rov TriQavov TrpoeXGiTv Svvdnsvog. "« L. 1. GALEN. 257 from the Platonic doctrine, he, on the other hand, concurs with it in the classification of the faculties of the soul, and in the theory of the organs upon which they are dependent. In this respect he very warmly controverts the opinion of Aristotle, which makes the heart to be the seat of the soul, and the design of the brain to be the cooling of the heart ; for in this he could appeal to his own anatomical experiments, which had proved to him the connec- tion between the nerves of the brain and the oro-ans of sense/' Galen had employed more learnedly than any of his predecessors the doctrines of the earlier philoso- phy, for the scientific embellishment of the medi- cal art ; and according to the judgment of eminent physicians, he has also brought to bear on this end no inconsiderable treasures of experiment : and to make all his learning tell, he had the command of a rhetorical flow of language, which was sometimes indeed prolix, but yet well adapted to the demands of his age. Accordingly we cannot wonder that his opinions should have been favourably received and found many advocates ; while, on the other hand, it is as little suprising tliat his medical contemporaries should have exhibited a great indisposition to in- dulge in the application of philosophical ideas to their practice, since tbey might have had good reason to fear that sucli an attempt, wlietiier made by Galen himself, or by the Dogmatists, would only lead to a distortion and complication of the results of pure experiment. It is true that tlie earlier ])l)ysicians of the school of Ej)icurus and the " De Usu I'art. viii. 2, 3; for the last point particularly see p. 623, sf|<]. IV. S 258 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. Stoics, may have have set to work more ofF-hand than Galen ; but it is not improbable that their philoso- phical attempts had the advantage over his of greater rigour of consequence;^^ and the more Galen was distracted by the conflicting results of experience, and the more clearly the further prosecution of experiment brought to light the unsatisfactory nature of the older physiological doctrines, the more perhaps would physicians, who saw that experiment alone was the safe road of their art, be disposed to enter upon a general testing of the whole body of the earlier philosophy. These remarks naturally introduce to us the Sceptics of this period. According to the tra- ditionary statement, the Sceptical habit, which we found existing in the second period of our history, was never absolutely without a representative. We have a catalogue of Sceptics, from Timon down- wards, in which, hov^^ever, there is evidently several gaps;^^ unless, perhaps, we are justified in sup- posing with Menodotus, one of the later Sceptics, that the succession of the school was broken for a time, until it was again revived by Ptolemy of Gyrene, to whom two disciples are given, Heraclides and Sarpedon. Of these three, however, nothing further is known ; and it was ^nesidemus, a dis- ciple of Heraclides, who first gave to the Sceptical system a new and solid foundation. The series of " For further information on the singular Eclecticism of Galen, we refer to Kurt Sprengell's, Beitrage zur Gesch. der Medicin. 1. Bd. 1. Stek. s. 117, sqq. ''''' Diog. Laert. ix. 115, IIG. According to this statement there are but four generations from Timon to ^nesidemus, which are unquestionably not enough for 100 years. SCEPTICS. 259 the Sceptics from Ptolemy appears to be without any chasm; ^° but our information concerning them is so very scanty, that we know scarcely anything of their biography, and even of their dates we can only form a tolerable conjecture. It was custom- ary, indeed, in this period for the several schools to stand apart, and for each to trouble itself little, if at all, about the teachers of all the rest, and for every one to look more to the old than to the new ; still there must have been some special reason for the total neglect of the Sceptical school by all the others, notwith- standing that it possessed a very important litera- ture. Cicero considered the Sceptical school as extinct in his time \'^ Seneca is ignorant of any con- temporaneous teacher of Pyrrhonism.'^ Scarcely any mention is made of it except by such as write directly of the sects, or of the history of philosophy, or by physicians. We doubt not that its influence on medical science was considerable; indeed we are disposed to believe that the New Sceptics collec- tively were physicians, since all those of whose circumstances in life we know anything, and these form by far the majority, were so." Of the time when they lived we have no precise account, but it '" This we conclude from the fact that the statement in Diogenes ib. ajjpeals to the authority of Mcnodotus, one of ilie heads of the Sceptical school. That Agrippa is not mentioned in this line may be explained, by sujiposing liim to belong to one of the suliordinate branches of the sclionl. " De Orat iii. 17; de Fin. ii. 11, 1:5. " l^luxst. Nat. vii. 32. " From yEnesidemuK to Saturniiius, inclusive, we count nine Sceptics, of whom six are physicians and writers of repute, viz.: — Scxtus Emjiiricus and Saturninus, who arc named as such by Diog. L. ix. llC; Herodotus, the teacher of Sextus the son of Arcius, who was likewise a i)Iiysiciun, whoso teacher Menodotua, as well as Theodas or Theudas, were among the most famous of the Empirical physicians, Galen, dc Libr. Prop. 9; dc Comp. Med. Sec. Loc. s 2 260 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. may be pretty nearly guessed. In the works of Sextos, surnamed Empiricus, we may clearly see, from the character of the Sceptical controversy against the Dogmatists, that it must have been formed at a time when the Stoical school exercised the greatest influence on scientific thought. For although the other Dogmatical sects are not spared by the Sceptics, although, indeed, it is a leading- characteristic of the sect to contrast with their own views the opinions of every considerable school of philosophy, whether half extinct or still flourishing, nevertheless the Stoical school is the chief object of their attacks. No doctrine is examined with so much strictness as theirs, and their forms and ter- minology are almost generally taken as the forms of science in general. But the Stoical philosophy began to decline about the close of the second cen- tury, A. D., and by the middle of the third ueo- Platonism attained to a consideration which quickly overshadowed every other system of philosophy. Now the Sceptical disquisitions of Sextus do not contain even the slightest allusion to the latter, although it would have furnished as ample materials as any other for doubting the validity of all philoso- phical knowledge.'^^ From this fact we may with iii. p. 636; v. p. 834; de Simpl. Medic. Temp. i. p. 432. Also Heraclides of Tarentum, who is called an Empirical physician, was probably the teacher of ^nesidemus. I take this occasion to mention that it was usual to ascribe the Sceptics to the Empirical physicians, to which Sextus objects, and asserts that they would be more justly reckoned among the more methodical. Hypot. Pyrrh. i. 236, sqq.; cf. Adv. Math. viii. 327. However his distinction between Empirical and Sceptical physicians is untenable, and he himself soon abandons it, lb. 191. Galen admits that they belonged to different schools. De Simpl. Med. Temp. 1. 1. '* Sextus expressly asserts that he has worked out the history of philosophy from the physiologists to the latest philosophers, i. e. the Stoics. Adv. Math. SCEPTICS. 261 tolerable certainty infer, that if not Sextus himself, yet at least the individuals whose Sceptical argu- ments he had collected into a body, lived at latest in the first half of the second century. And a more precise result seems attainable from the works of the Greek physicians. The works of Galen against the Empirics are only directed against Menodotus and Tlieudas ; while in a later work he mentions Hero- dotus, the scholar of Menodotus; while it has no allusion to Sextus Empiricus, the disciple of Hero- dotus, although in a later medical work he is named as one of the heads of Empirical physicians.'^^ Such a man as Sextus, who had collected into a body the whole of the Sceptical doctrines, could not have been passed over by Galen, if in his time he had already published any one of his works. From this silence, then, we must conclude that Herodotus was really the contemporary of Galen, but that Sextus lived in the first half of the third century. Now reckoning backward from this time ^Enesidemus may perhaps have lived about the commencement of our present era.^^ VIII. 1; Pyrrli. Hyp. i. Co. Kara tovq fiaXiara t'lfxTv avriSo^uvvrag vvv ioffiariKovQ roi'c and tTiq arouQ. He seldom mentions pliilosoiiliers of his own, and generally not those of a late date; nevertheless he has a notice of the Stoic Basileides abovementioncd, who is usually regarded as the teacher of M. Aurelius. Adv. Math. viii. 258, c. not. Fabr. '* Namely, in the Introductio, which is falsely placed among the works of Galen, c. 4. '" On the authority of Fabric, ad Scxt. Enip. Hyp. I'yrrh. i. '23.'>, it is usually assumed that yEncsidcmus was a contemporary of Cicero, This assun)|ition rests mainly on his having said of the Academicians of his time, that they some- timesagree with the Stoics, and appear like Stoics quarrelling with Stoics ; for this observation has been supposed to apply to Antiochus. But it is not improliable that many of the Academicians followed in the steps of Antiochus. Notliing can be inferred from the statement of Aristoclcs ap. Euseb. Pr. Ev. xiv. fl, 262 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. Now of the series of the New Sceptics down to Sextus, we have little of personal information. The most remarkable was ^nesidemus, who was originally of Gnossus, and taught at Alexandria* But of him it is, however, far from certain, that he belonged by his style of thought to the Sceptical school, although indeed he appears to have con- tributed greatly to the dissemination of Sceptical doctrines. For we are told, that having devoted himself to the works of Heraclitus, he considered Sceptical researches as a means of attaining to a right understanding of his favourite author. Now in this respect he appears to be in perfect agree- ment with the spirit of the age, which delighted chiefly to renew olden doctrines, and to combine them together. As to the nature of the connection between the two, he appears to have spoken very expressly. For he asserts that in the first place, a man must, after the manner of the Sceptics, ac- knowledge that opposite appearances are presented by the same object, before he can arrive at an understanding of the Heraclitic principle, that opposites are in all." But from this it appears scarcely questionable, that he did not intend to that iEiicsidemus attacked, ^x^^C if"' Trpwt]v, the Sceptical doctrine. A very different chronology would be determined if we take the Sceptic Zeuxis, who was second in succession from ^nesidemus to be the same with the Herophilite physician of the same name, whom Strab. xii. 8, fin. mentions as his contem- porary. This is the opinion of Diog. L. ix. 106; but it apepars to me to be very questionable. " Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 210. 'End Se ot Trepi Tbv Aivr/ffiSTjixov iXiyov, 6:6v tlvai rrjv dKiVTiKiiv oywy^v stti rfiv 'HpaKXeiTtiov v oTTojaovv voovjjitvMV, Kay i)v ndvTa iraai avfijiaWtTai. Kal avyKQivo- (itva TToXXrjv dvotjfiaXiav Kal rapaxiiv ixovra tvpiaKtrai, KaQd ^tjaiv AivrjtTidriiioc. Many substitutes have been proposed for fivijfirf tiq : it ia how- ever correct, for in fivtj^T], all reason consists according to the Sceptics, Sext, Enip. Adv, Math, viii. 288, '*' Sext, Emp. Hyp, Pyrrh, i. 222. SCEPTICS. ^NESIDEMUS. 267 mitted the Pantheistic basis of his doubts, for we find no traces of it among the later Sceptics. It is difficult to adduce any peculiar principle, as characteristic of the Sceptical speculations of -^nesidemus, since of the little even that we know of his reasonings, much may be justly claimed by the earlier Sceptics, and much is so closely mixedup with tliose of his successors, that it is almost impossible to separate them.^^ The latter is the case especially with the arguments which ^nesidemus employed to prove that the connection between cause and effect cannot be ascertained.^" On this head, it is impossible to distinguish what is really his property from what belongs to the later Sceptics. The former remark, on the other hand, applies to the ten grounds of Scepticism, of which iEnesidemus is the reputed author/^ but of which we showed on a former occasion, that they were current among the earlier Sceptics, so that at "•' The ground of this was in part, the fact that ^nesidomus taught his Scepticism separately from liis Hcraclitic opinions. Accordingly Sextus frequently says, when speaking of the latter, AivtjcriSiJUOQ Kara ' HpaKXtiTov, and appeals to the works which he entitles Trpwrt) flffayojyri. In the chief Sceptical work of yEiiesidcnius, Hvf>f)u>peioi \6yoi, in 8 books, of which Photius, cod. 212, has merely given too brief an extract, there is no detailed mention of any Heraclitic doctrine. Probably the virorvvtaaig iIq to. llvppibveia is the Mme as the first book of this work. *" That he argued against the notion of a causal connection is unquestionable from Phot. Bibl. Cod. 212, p. 280, 281 ; Sext. Emp. Hyp. Pyrrh. i. 180 sqq. ; Adv. Math. ix. 218. There is, however, no ground for ascribing to ^nesidemus the opinions which follow the last passages 202. as Tenneman Gesch. der Phil. b. y. fi. B. 93. justly remarks, and therefore what next follows, cannot also be attri- buted to him.j But the following passages go on indefinitely without marking the end of that which properly belongs to yl'^nesiaemus. It njipears, therefore, most advisable to regard the whole us the common property of the Sceptics. To support this view we meet, in s. 272, with a division utterly inconsistent with fliat nscribed to jEnesidemus by Sext. Adv. Math. x. ."JS. '" Sext. Emp. adv. .Miilh. vii. ;{4,'i ; Aristocl. A p. ICuscb. Pr. Ev. xiv. 18. 268 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. most, he can only claim the merit of being the first to collect and arrange them. Whatever else we know of the doctrine of ^Enesidemus is of little value, and utterly devoid of originality.^^ But the simple fact that ^Enesidemus collected the arguments of the Sceptics under these ten heads, affords a slight clue to guide us in tracing the pro- gressive development of the Sceptical school, which otherwise is involved in the greatest obscurity. It exhibits, at all events, a desire to give something like a systematic order to the Sceptical doctrine, with a view to facilitate the survey of its multifarious objections to Dogmatism. A similar wish for the improvement and perfection of the Sceptical pole- mics is also traceable in his enumeration of the eight different cases in which the Dogmatists usually deceive themselves in their supposed investigation of causes. ^^ For Sextus, in general terms, declares the distinctive character of the method of the later Sceptics, as compared with that of the New Aca- demy, to consist in this, that the former confined themselves to a refutation of the leading and general principles of the Dogmatists, but neglected all particular doctrines and consequences as neces- sarily falling with the principles themselves.^* Now it is in perfect unison with this statement that we find the successors of J^nesidemus assiduously '* Thus the statements of the moral purpose of the Sceptics, b. Diog. L. ix. 107 ; Phot. 1.1, p. 281, which serves to explain Aristocl, 1. 1. the investigation of true and false phenomena, Sext. Adv. Math. viii. 8, the grounds against truth, ib. viii. 40, sq.; the grounds against the assumption that signs are sensuous, which is referred to the tenth ground, ib. 215 ; cf. 234 ; the distinction of the two kinds of motion, ib. x. 38, and the verbal explanation of the good, ib, xi. 42, and some others. '•'' Scxt. Emp. Hyi). Pyrrh. i, 180, sqq. =* Adv. Math. ix. 1. 96 97 SCEPTICS. AGRIPPA. 269 labouring still further to reduce the grounds of Scep- ticism.^^ Agrippa, a Sceptic, of whose personal his- tory we only know that he lived after iEnesidemus, admitted no more than five grounds of Scepticism ; of which the two first comprise, in part at least, if not quite completely, all the old ten, while the other three are quite new. The two first call in question the possibility of knowledge, on the ground that all human ideas, whether of life or science, are inconsistent with each other, and on the ground that they represent at most a mere relation. If now, under the head of inconsistency of ideas, we may include the objections which the Sceptics usually drew from the contradictory nature of sensuous appearances, this ground, taken with the second, undoubtedly comprises the former ten. The three new ones are remarkably distinguished from the older objections in this respect, that they do not relate to the matter but to the form of '* That this was continually carried forward we have sure grounds for in- ferring, from the manner in which Sextus mentions these later principles of Scei)tici8m one after another. Pyrr. Hyp. i. 164, 178. '" Diog. L. Jx. 18. What the ol ntpl rbv 'Ayp'nrirav m.iy have taught here is ascribed by Sextus to the rolg vfoarkpoig ffKenriKolg, in reference, no doubt, to yEnesidemus. On very insufficient reasons it has been inferred from Diog. L. ix. IOC, that Agrippa was subsequent to the Sceptics, Antiochus and Apelles, of whom the former was the teacher of Menodotus. Cf. Fabric, ad Sext. Emp. Hyp. I'yrrh. i. 1G4. ^ Diog. L. ix. 88. 01 Sk iripl ^Aypiirirav tovtoiq aWovc TTivn irQoa- itadyovai, rov Tt arrd rijg Sia^ojviaQ Kal rbv tic airtipov iKftdWovra Kal rbv irpng ri kuI rbv l^ vwo^irrttog Kai rbv t*i' aWt'/Xtov. Sext. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 104, sfiq. in the same order, and probably from the same source. We have not, however, adhered to this order, for it is evidently most unme- thodicjil, and especially as our author (Sext. Emj). ib. 177) proceeds with so little judgment as to represent these five grounds as dill'crent from the earlier ten, which however are unquestionably, in part at least, contained in the former. 270 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. science. Accordingly, the bringing forward these objections indicates, in fact, a considerable progress in the development of the method of Scepticism. And in further prosecution of this direction, Agrippa sought to show that all the arguments of the Dog- matists are insufficient. The Dogmatists, he argues, must labour to prove everything, for without proof they will not believe anything. If, however, they maintain that from fixed premises a matter can be proved, these principles, it may be objected, are themselves but hypotheses, since they are not proved. But if they attempt to prove these principles — the premises of the syllogism — they must have recourse to new premises ; and as this must take place in every argument, the endeavour to demonstrate everything would lead into endless demonstration. These are the first two formal grounds of Scepticism advanced by Agrippa. The third refers to a well- known paralogism, the so-called reasoning in a circle. As all the other Sceptical grounds of Agrippa relate to general principles, the conjecture is allowable that he also had a general view in his reference to this particular paralogism. Perhaps he intended by it to guard against the possible assertion of the Dogmatists, that the scientific form of syllogism only served to establish more fully prin- ciples of science, certain in themselves, by proving their mutual coherence. We are here thinking of the simile of Zeno, drawn from the closed fist, and compressed still more firmly by the other hand. That this conjecture is correct follows from the progress in the development of the Sceptical school. For we see that still later Sceptics, Menodotus SCEPTICS. MENODOTUS. 271 especially and his school,'^^ found occasion in the doctrine of Agrippa for still further simplification of the grounds of Scepticism. This they did by giving up all those that referred to the matter, with the exception of the one, derived from the disagree- ment of ideas, which they occasionally employed, in support of Agrippa's three formal grounds of doubt. These they also reduced to two, by comprising under a single and more general idea, that of the infinite process and that of the paralogism of the circle.^^ Thus they had left a simple dilemma by which they thought they could satisfactorily refute every pretension of the Dog- matists to scientific certainty. For, they argued, all that is known must either be known in itself or by inference ; but that nothing can be known in itself clearly follows from the disputes of the Dog- matists as to principles ; but if, on the other hand, it be maintained that a truth may be known by inference from another, then either the process of proof must be carried on to infinity, or else the paralogism of the circle will be incurred. There- fore, they concluded no knowledge can be demon- •• For Menodotus was unquestionably one of tlie most eminent of the later Sceptics; aa such he is mentioned with Scxtus. rseudo-Galcn. Introductio, c. 4, and in Sext. Emp. Hyp. Pyrrh. i. 222, with i'Enesidemus, as Fabricius conjectures. '^ Sext. Emp. Hyp. Pyrrh. i. 17(5, sq. TlapaSiSoacn Si icai cvo rporrovc iTTOX'/C iripovg. Imi yap ttuv rb KaraXafifiavofitvov ijToi IK iavrov Kara- Xafxftdvtn^ai Corel >"; IK ir'tpov KnTuXaiifiavfTni, rt'/r 7rf()i Trdvrwv diroplav iiaaynv Cokoikti. kuI oti fxiv oii^iv tK iavrou KaTaKunfiavtTai, ^arri, SiiXov Ik Trjg yiyivijinvrfc irapd ToTg ^vtrtKoX^ nipi Tt riov alff^tirHv Kai rdv votjTojv dTTavTii)v olfiai ItaipujviaQ .... ^la Si tovto ovS' iK iripov rt KarnXnfifidvtaOai {)ovfTiv. ti (tiv y«p rb IK ov rt KaraXafifidviraif au IK iripov KaraKafi^dvta^ai Itifdu, li^ ruv OcciWijXov fi rbv uirupov l/iftaWovai rpoirov. Here also Sextus speaks of other tropes. 272 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. strated. As to form, these two methods are far superior to those of Agrippa, since they exhibit whatever occurs in the latter as a member of a whole, with exception, perhaps, of the argument of relation, which, however, might well be regarded as superfluous, after the discovery of a universal and infallible method of refutation. It is, there- fore, impossible to deny to the Sceptics of this time the merit of having perfected a coherent develop- ment of their mode of thinking. In this respect they are meritoriously distinguished from the other sects of their day ; and in this fact there is nothing surprising, since it only proves that in the prevailing weakness of the scientific spirit, a still surviving consciousness of the true requisitions of philosophy only served to strengthen the conviction of the existing incapacity to satisfy these demands. If, however, we are able to trace the history of Scepticism in this period on the side of its formal development, we are not so fortunate with respect to its material grounds. Of these we have, indeed, a collection tolerably complete, but know nothing of their gradual formation. The collector is the famous Sextus, a Greek physician of the Empirical school, and on that account surnamed Empiricus. His fame rests on the circumstance of his being the only Sceptic of whom an entire work now exists.^°° His ^"^ There are three works : The Pyrrhonistic Hypoty poses, that against the Encyclic sciences, and that against the philosophical sects. The last two are generally regarded as one work, and comprised under the title Adversus Mathe- maticos. Thus even Diog. Laert. ix. 116. But the beginning of the seventh book seems to prove that they were not designed to form a whole. Other works, occa- sionally quoted by Sextus but not clearly denoted, are lost. Cf. Adv. Math_ V. 29 ; vi. 52, 55, 58; vii. 202 ; x. 284. SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 273 merits, as compared with the other Sceptics, cannot easily be estimated. They perhaps consist simply in this, that he gave the completest collection of Sceptical arguments against the Dogmatists, on which account his work has driven all others of the same nature into oblivion. For his talents are not oreat, and we cannot for a moment ascribe to him the merit of originality. On the other hand, he is diffuse even to tediousness in his controversy wdth the Doo:matists. The relevant and the irrelevant are equally adduced by him, and he appears scarcely able to estimate rightly the force of his own argu- ments. He does not, moreover, give his exposition of the Sceptical doctrine as anything new, but inva- riably speaks in the name of his school, whose common property he does little more than cata- logue, and seldom mentions the author of a par- ticular line of Sceptical thought. In short, it is at once manifest, that in his case Scepticism has fol- lowed in the wake of the other schools, and dege- nerated into a mere matter of erudite tradition. And ill such a tradition it was even unavoidable that tlie fundamental idea should gradually lose its energy, and accordingly, as we previously observed, Sextus was unable to understand tlie true relation of tlie arguments invented by the later Sceptics. Indeed, he is often incapable of arranging these argiimcnts in the most approjiriate and lucid order; on the contrary, the looseness with which they follow each other sufficiently proves that his col- lection was made in haste, and with little of the industry recpiisite for such a work. But the length of his expositions particularly calls for notice. IV T '274 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. Notwithstanding his frequent assurances of a wish to avoid prolixity and repetitions, his work is full of both. Indeed, such was the almost inevitable consequence of the plan of his work. For he prefers to begin with a refutation of the general principle, and remarking, that all particular cases are necessarily involved in it ; nevertheless, for prudence' sake, he proceeds to controvert all par- ticular cases, and this, of course, reproduces the question of the general principle. He himself admits that he is not over cautious in the choice of his weapons, but excuses himself on this head by his favourite comparison of the Sceptic to the phy- sician. Pure philanthropy has made it his object to cure man of the disease of Dogmatism ; and as the physician must use violent remedies for violent diseases, and gentle applications in milder cases, so the Sceptic has at hand strong medicines for all such as are violently attacked by the pestilence of Dogmatism ; while for such as evinced but a slight tendency towards it, he would not hesitate to em- ploy the weakest, and even most improbable argu- ments. ^°^ And indeed in many cases Sextus must have felt the weakness of his own reasoning ; for he frequently made use of the emptiest sophisms ; notwithstanding that one of his strongest grounds of objection to the Dialecticians was, that the}'^ entered upon the superfluous trouble of analyzing such fallacies. ^°^ But upon this point Sextus may perhaps be fairly excused by the practice of his school. But perhaps the weightiest objection to which '"^ Pyrrh. Hyp. Ui. 280, sq. "* lb, ii. 239, sqq. SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 275 Sextus is exposed is that of being unable to keep his exposition of Scepticism free from all admixture with such extraneous elements as, correctly viewed, directly overthrow the very idea of it. In the con- troversy which the Sceptics carried on with the New Academy and the physicians of the Dogma- tical school, they prudently disclaimed the in- tention of positively maintaining even that nothing can be known. Sextus, therefore, compared the Sceptical principle to fire, which, with the com- bustibles on which it feeds, consumes itself also ; or to a guide, of whose assistance we are suddenly deprived by accident, after he has led us to a steep and precipitous eminence ; or to strong drastic medicines, which, while they remove the bad humours of the body, are themselves also ejected. ^"^ But these illustrations are, to our surprise, followed by one of a directly opposite nature. For in reply to the objection of the Dogmatists, that the Sceptics, even while they sought to overthrow the possibility of all reasoning, furnished their own refutation by attempting to establish the validity of their own arguments, he observes, that the proposition, " That all j)roof is impossible," is only advanced in the same sense as it is asserted of .Tui)iter, that he is the father of gods and men ; from which it is obvious, that he himself must be excej)ted, since he cannot be his own father. In the same manner the proposition, that demonstration is impossible, is universally true with the single exception of itself.^"* "" lb. i. 206; ii. l!!fi; Adv. Math. viii. 4fiO. The ilhistralion of the puri- fying physician is aHcribeil to the Sf('|itic» |>riii(i|)ally. nioR. L. ix. 7fi ; Aristocl. ap. Euscb. Pr. Ev. xiv. 10. "** Atlv. Math. viii. 470. HoXXu yap ica^ vntKaipunv Xiytraf Kcii wC T 2 276 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. But this is not a solitary deviation from the Scep- tical line of thought, but is connected with many other positions, of which, however, the blame may not perhaps attach to Sextus, but rather to the traditionary forms in which his doctrine had been worked out. Thus, in perfect agreement with the above mode of making the proof of the impossibility of demonstration to be only valid under a certain exception, Sextus denies generally that the moral re- gulation of life by any formal principles is imprac- ticable, since the conduct of individuals is materially influenced by accident and circumstances ;^*^'' and then makes an exception in favour of the rule, that in the conduct of life men must be guided by cir- cumstances. It would evidently have been more conformable with the spirit of Scepticism to doubt even on this point. But he appears in a still more singular light when he makes it to be the exclusive privilege of Scepticism to render a happy life possible, as teaching that by nature nothing is either good or evil.^°^ And with like inconsistency boasts, in one place, that the Sceptic invariably confines himself to the simple expressions and historical record of his present state,^°^ and yet asserts in another, that any Dogmatical arguments which are of apparently constraining force, may be parried Tov Ata ^a/xiv ^iHv rt Ka'i avSiQMiTiov tlvai irartpa Ka^' vTTt^aiptffiv ahrov roirov, ov ydp Srj ye icai avrbg avrov ijv iraTtjp, ovru) Kai orav Xiyojjjiev fitjce^iav dvcu cnrolii^iv, Kab' v-Kt^aiptatv Xkyojxtv rov Suk- vvvTOQ \6yov, oTi oiiK tctTiv ciTTOi n%ig. W5 Adv. Math. xi. 208. ^°^ lb. 140. "On ovTt. ayaSrov ri eoti ^uau, ovte kukov. . . . to de yi liZaOKiiv TO TOiovrov Uiov rJJc (JKkipeu)g. TavTr)Q apa r;v to fiSaifiova fiiov irspiTTOieiv. 1"' Pyrr. Hyp. i. 4, 15, 199, 200. SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 277 by the legitimate assumption that some one may perhaps be subsequently found able to refute them.^°^ This objection is evidently founded on the assump- tion, that as hitherto every Dogmatical doctrine has been met by counter-arguments equally strong, this will also be always the case in future ; a principle which is necessarily established wherever the expe- rience of particular cases might justly lead to general conclusions, but which, however, was cer- tainly inadmissible in the case of a Sceptic. Sextus, in all probability, was indebted for this proposition to the methodical sect to which he belonged. ^"^ Of these contradictions a small part only, as already observed, are to be imputed to the want of skill in Sextus, while the greater number are attribu- table to the tendency of Greek Scepticism generally, or to the New Sceptics in particular. In our notice of the earlier Scepticism we were constrained to remark that its object was not, as has been indul- gently supposed, to protect the investigation of truth from the overhabty assumptions of philosopli}- or general opinion, but that in fact it resulted in a conclusion which went to reject the investigation into the grounds of phenomena as transcending human powers, and by confining the knowledge of man to an immediate consciousness of his present state, made the pre-eminence of the sage to consist in nothing but his practical conduct, his fearless- ness, and the mental fortitude whereby he rose superior to every emotion and passion. Similarly, tlie object of the later Sceptics is by no means by a '"* U>. ;!3, 8<|. "*'*' Vide supra, p. 25.'», n. 73. 278 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. refutation of the Dogmatists to promote a new and profounder pursuit after truth ; on the contrary, they held investigation to be already complete ; of new grounds they refused to hear, being convinced beforehand that no objection can be raised sufficient to remove their own doubts ; for even if a counter- vailing principle cannot be found immediately, yet before long it would sure to be discovered. On this point they fully agreed with the older Sceptics. With them they maintained also the practical end of all investigations, and the unshaken equanimity which arises from the suspension of judgment, and the temperate control of the passions. ^^° But it would be erroneous to suppose that the doctrine of the later Sceptics was as intimately connected with this end as that of the elder Sceptics was. From such a supposition we are withheld simply by the con- sideration that the philosophy of the latter arose out of a peculiar position both of science and life. As this state was now changed, the tendency of modern Scepticism was naturally different, and from it the characteristics of their doctrine were immediately derived. In order, therefore, to apprehend its true character we propose to investigate, in the first place, whatever traces we can discover of its proper end, what the Sceptics had in view by it, and for what purpose alone they employed their doubts ; for "0 Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 8, 25, 30; Diog. L. ix. 107; cf. Phot. Cod. 212, fin. This does not agree with the assertion of Aristocies, ap. Eus. Praep. Ev. xiv. 18, that ^uesidemus regarded pleasure as the end of Scepticism. However, it is a matter as enigmatical as it is insignificant, and one may either adopt the conjectures of Siedler, De Scepticismo (Ilala, 1827), p. 88, sq.; or refer this doctrine of ./Enesidemus to the influence of his HeracHtic Pantheism, unless, forsooth, we are willing to reject altogether Aristocies. Vide supra, p. 260, 261. SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 279 of every species of Scepticism, it may be justly said that it had some object beyond itself. In this attempt we must assume that Sextus has on the whole rightly recorded the views of the New Scep- tics, and this we are little disposed to doubt, as he exhibits but little powers of invention. When we meet with the rule of the Sceptics, that no proof ought to be given of what is believed by common consent, but that the truth of whatever appears to be incredible should be maintained, in order that by adducing plausible grounds its autho- rity may be made equal with that of the former, we are almost tempted to suppose that their favourite occupation had been to maintain paradoxes of pljilosopliy against the objections of common sense. But, in truth, nothing was further from their prac- tice. By the older Sceptics, indeed, such a course might perhaps have been followed, for they, as we before showed, opposed the grounds of reason to the sensuous apprehension, for which their own age sliowed a decided preference. And hence it was that the ten oldest grounds of tlie Sceptics were without exception directed against the sensuous presentation. But the New Sceptics, to judge from the exposition of their doctrine which Sextus has given, employed these objections only secondarily, while, on the contrary, those whicli they themselves brouglit forward, referred almost exclusively to tlie very form of doctrine, the scientific connection. '^^ *" Sext. Eni[). Adv. M.-itli. vii. 4)3. 'Pjjrtov vi tt^oq {liv to npiuTov, '6ri aKinriKov cart i6oq tu to'i^ irtiriffTivixivoiQ [xr) avviiyoptiv, apKiiaQai S' in aiiTwv uiq avTc'tfiKti KUTarTKunj ry kihv^ 7rf)oX//i|/f i, roT^- li ('nriaroii; ilvai ioKovtji tKaarov avaytiv Tg nut'i TH TTrif)ndo\iif; ri^twixtva niartt. 280 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. So also it is against the philosopliers that their at- tacks were specially directed. Accordingly, in direct contradiction to their own rule, they even rejected Dialectic as a useless art, and opposed to its most intricate questions the obviousness of common be- lief.^^^ And indeed from their whole procedure it is distinctly manifest that they were actuated by a strong inclination to maintain the truth of pheno- mena, and to reject as idle and vain all such scien- tific disquisitions as go beyond them. They did not, it is true, avow this intention openly ; but, on the contrary, the more completely to conceal it they availed themselves of the distinction which we meet with among the earlier Sceptics between scientific certainty and the assumptions which are necessary for the conduct of life. For they asserted, that in order to determine with scientific accuracy that a particular matter is so or so, phenomena are not sufiicient as a criterion of truth, although they are so for all practical purposes. With respect to the latter, they believed that if they would not suspend altogether the business of life, they must assume that things are really such as they seem to be.^^^ But here perhaps the New Sceptics went further than was needful for the mere purposes of life ; they were not content with the necessary only, but on the contrary, they had no thought of limiting the enjoy- ments of life, and were far removed from that absti- nence which was so strictly enjoined by the older Sceptics. That they felt no unwillingness and had no reluctance to yield to phenomena, may be 112 Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 236, 244, 246. iiJ Adv. Math. vii. 29, sq.; Diug. L, ix. 106. SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. '2*^1 directly inferred from the character of their ethical precepts. Their moral view is, in fact, very low. They labour not to keep the sensual appetites under restraint, while of a rational insight into the nature of the good they are wholly destitute ; for they would not free man from his evil impulses, but merely enable him to control them, although there- by man is placed in unrest and self-strife ; happier, they declare, is the so-called wicked man who satisfies his impulses without deliberation. ^^^ Sex- tus goes so far as to hold that an irrational life is not evil, inasmuch as it has no sense or conscious- ness of itself, and feels no pain on its own ac- count."^ But the view of the Sceptics concerning that which demands our assent in the conduct of life, calls for a more attentive consideration. They admitted a rule of practice based upon experience, and in this they probably adopted the distinction of TEuesidemus between appearances which occur onl}^ to individuals, and in an especial manner, and those which are observed generally, and by all alike ; the former must be held to be false, the latter true."*^ Still they were indisposed to allow thcit there is any perfect universality in the perception of phenomena, but ascribed much to the dexterity of the experi- enced observer in reducing in a peculiar manner all "♦ Scxt. Emp. Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 27:i, sqq.; Adv. Math. xi. 2i:<, 214. "* Adv. Math. xi. 92, e(\<{. "' Adv. Math. viii. (i. Ol fjikv ytip iripi rbv Aivt] iriSiifMov \iyuuai riva TUP (paivofitviov diniponuv, Kui (JKim tovtmv tu {liv Ko/i'df (paivKjOai, rd ft iSiutQ Tivi, u)v dXfjO;~; /liv tJvat ra koivwq nam ipaivofieva, xpiv^tj di rd fiff Toiavra. 282 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY. special experience to a general result. From this procedure they did not exclude the traditionary records of facts. It was by these means, that they hoped to establish a useful art of life based on the observation of several- cases. ^^' It was a useful art, since their readiness to admit the validity of any branch of knowledge, was determined by its benefi- cial influence on life.^^^ In reference to this utility, they acknowledged a certain right reason which they looked upon as the distinctive property of man, and made it to consist in the recollection of past precedents in their order of succession. ^^^ Now this opinion furnishes us with the means of ascertaining the design of the New Sceptics in their attack upon the Dogmatists. ^^° It must be remembered that all, or at least the majority, of the Sceptics were phy- sicians who had to defend their Empirical mode of treatment against the attacks of the Dogmatists. For this purpose they required a certain theory which should be founded upon experience and practically useful. As then in defiance of the Scep- tical character of their minds they were profes- sionally driven to admit such an art to be possible, yet the same mental tendency led them to cultivate it with no other view than to controvert by aid of it every other theory which did not closely attach itself to experience, and admit of a like practical ^^'^ lb. "291. 'Ayvoovvreg on Trjg fiiv rwi' dWcov dtojpiiTiKrjg Texvtjg ovSkv iari 9twprifi,a, KaOuTrift varepov SiSdS,n[j,tv,'TiiQ de iv rolg (paivofik- voig CTTpe(poiJ,'tvi}g lariv "iSiov n OtMprjfia. Sid yap tuv ttoWcikic rertjpij- /iEi^wv TTOttira rag ruiv QKjjprmarwv cnKTraaitg- rd Si TToWciKtg T7]pij9(VTa Kut i