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THE HISTORY OF
ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY.

VOLUME THE FOURTH.

THE HISTORY

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 .

• • •

* •

• . • •• • • '

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

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

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.

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.

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^<i8.
Sed nihil omnino recta reginnc vini
Declinarc, quis est, qui possit cernerc, sese P

92 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

of the development of natural phenomena. This
is manifest in the details of his theory of nature.
Thus he likes not the notion of chance, and even
submits the free motion of the will to a directing
law. For he makes the will to be dependent on
the conceptions of the soul, and these again to arise
from sensuous impressions which are received from
without.^^ The divine felicity itself is regarded in
the light of a force of nature. ^° And although he
does not abandon wholly the manner of Epicurus,
and attempts to give several explanations of celestial
phenomena, and even ridicules the astrologers who
will not admit that these events may happen other-
wise than they assert, it is nevertheless far from
being his opinion, that the regular ordinary pheno-
mena of heaven have different causes at different
times, but he merely thinks that different explana-
tions must be admitted, because it is difficult to dis-
cover the one sole cause by which the stars are set
in motion. ^^ And, accordingly, the object of his
physical theory throughout is, to show that all
things proceed by fixed and determinate laws.
This is nowhere more clearly seen than in that
part of his poem where, having adopted the Empe-
doclean account of the origin of living creatures, he
describes many of the immature and monstrous
births of the earth, but refuses to follow Empedocles
in believing the existence of abortions which, like the
fabulous centaurs or chimsera, combine the nature of

^' IV, 887. Dico animo nostro primum simulacra meandi

Accidere atque animum pulsare, ut diximus ante.
Iiide voluntiis fit; neque fiiim facere iiicipit ullam
Rem quisquam, qiiam mens providct, quid velit, arite.

'"> 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.

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(>a<l>a 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.

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, <S£c.

Ac. ii. .".fi. Perficies, ut ego ista innumernbilia complectene nusquam
labar ? nihil opincr.^

124 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

cileable. But against such opponents as the
Epicureans, he felt himself strong in the convictions
of his own nobler nature. However, when he is
adducing the grounds of his Scepticism, he does
not entirely reject even the principles of the Epi-
cureans ; he even feels his soul moved in a certain
measure by them, and although he cannot assent
to them, from a fear of robbing virtue of some of
her splendour, yet they forbid him to adopt the
opposite views of the Stoics and Socraticists, as any-
thing more than probable. ^^^ When, however, he
reflects that the Epicurean doctrine, if consequen-
tially carried out, must subvert all duty and virtue,
he decides unconditionally against it,^^^ and
declares that no other course is left to him, but to
assent to the concurrent doctrines of the Peripate-
tics, Academicians, and Stoics, whose precept is to
follow nature.^^^ But what again is the meaning of
this rule ? To obey it rightly, we must first know
what the nature of man is, but on this point philoso-
phers widely disagree, and to reconcile their dis-
cordant opinions Cicero feels to be a task above his
power. At times he seems to show a disposition to
consider the dispute between the Stoics and the Peri-
patetics, from whom the Old Academy did not essen-
tially differ, as a mere war of words.^^* But, on other
occasions, he admits, that there is in reality a dif-
ference between them, which is not merely verbal
but material, and amounting to this, that while the
Peripatetics attribute a certain importance to ex-
ternal good, which, however, is so slight, that when

"1 lb. 42, sqq. "* De Off. 1, 2. "^ Ac. i. 5, 10.

^3* De Fin. iii. 3 ; iv. 20, sqq. 26.

CICERO. VIEW OF ETHICAL SCHOOLS. 125

put in the balance with virtue, it weighs as nothing
the Stoics absolutely deny the desirableness of what
are called external advantages.^^^ And between
the two his own decision fluctuates. The view of
the Peripatetics especially, in the form in which it
was adopted by Antiochus, is censured by him as an
inconsistency, since he says, they at one time assign
a value to external and corporeal advantages, and
at others, reckon them as nothing. When they
maintain that man may be happy without them,
but that, nevertheless, happiness dwells only with
him who possesses them in addition to virtue, they
appear to suppose a gradation in a notion which ad-
mits not of degrees — that is, they suppose that there
can be a more happy than a happy life.^^^ He does
not hesitate to say, the Peripatetics and the Old
Academy ought to cease from such idle talk, and
take courage to say distinctly, that a happy life
may be passed, even in the bull of Phalaris.^^^ He
declares his determination to follow the Stoics,
whose doctrine appears more consistent and more
exalted. ^^" But it is to be feared, that this enthusi-
asm, kindled by the more elevated theory of morals,
is a mere transient fervour, and that the aspirations
of a mind keenly alive to every exalted and mag-
nanimous impression, have raised him to a height
beyond his power to sustain. For he is not long-
unmoved by the many objections to which the doc-
trine of the Stoics is open. He is astounded by their
paradoxes,'^'-" although he looks upon them as Socra-

'" lb. V. 30, Bf|f|. »" lb, V. '11 ■ Tiisc. V. 8, IG.

'" lb. 2(,, tin. »« Do Ofr. iii. J ; Tu8C. v. 1.

"" DeFin. iv. ]'J.

126 gRjEco-roman philosophy.

tical, and believes that they admit of defence. ^^°
Their doctrines are ill-suited for active life and the
Forum ;^^^ they contradict the testimony of his own
experience of human nature, which, however, he is
unwilling to trust implicitly, since he is conscious
that he is not free from the vices of his age, which,
perhaps, disqualify it for being the standard of
virtue. ^^^ His doubts are expressed in the very
spirit of a man of the world ; he is almost disposed
to doubt if there is such a thing as virtue.^^^ In-
fluenced by such reflections, he again approximates
to the Peripatetic doctrine, ^^^ or at least confesses
that at one time the Peripatetic, at another the
Stoical, ethics appear to him to be most consonant
with truth. ^^"^ He even finds reason for accusing
the Stoical principles of incongruity. For as they
enjoin man to follow nature, tliey ought not to
forbid him to pay regard to his body, since man's
nature consists both of soul and of body.^^^ After
the manner of the Peripatetics, he reminds them
that virtue is impossible without an outward world,
as the scene of its occupation and as the basis of its
existence ;^^^ and he compares their doctrine to the

^*" Farad. Prooem. ^" De Fin. iv. 9 ; de Am. 5.

"2 Tusc. V. 1 . Equidem eos casus, in quibus me fortuna vehementer ex-
ercuit, mecum ipse considerans huic incipio sententise diffidere, interdum et
humani generis imbecillitatem fragilitatemque extimescere. Vereor enim, ne
natura, cum corpora nobis infirma dedisset iisque et morbos insanabiles et do-
lores intolerabiles adjunxisset, animos quoque dederit et corporum doloribus
congruentes et separatim suis angoribus et molestiis implicates. Sed in hoc me
ipse castigo, quod ex aliorum et ex nostra fortasse mollitia, non ex ipsa virtute
de virtutis robore existimo. Farad, vi. 3.

^^^ Tusc. i. 1. He only excepts the virtue of Cato in order to say something
flattering of Brutus.

1" De Fin. v. 26. '*' De Off. iii. 7.

"« De Fin.iv. 91, 13, 14. "^ lb. 15.

CICERO. LOGIC. CRITERIA OF TRUTH. 127

overhasty views of certain philosophers who, be-
cause they have discovered a principle of know-
ledge higher and more divine than sensation, think
themselves justified in rejecting the latter alto-
gether.^-^*^

Thus, then, even in the theory of morals, do we
see Cicero reverting to the sensible, in the same
way that in physical investigations he ascribed
greater certainty to what is sensuously apparent
than to the conclusions of science. But we are now
evidently touching upon his logical opinions, from
which we may hope to discover the scientific grounds
on which his theory of probability rested. How-
ever, upon a review of his logical principles, this
part of his philosophy will be found even more
vague and defective than either his physics or
ethics.

In this domain of inquiry all turns upon the
criterium of trutli. Now, agreeably with what we
have just remarked of his adherence to the sensible,
we must expect to find him phicing his chief reliance
on the senses. Nevertheless, he does not do this so
unconditionally as not to concede to the intellect an
independent action in the formation of knowledge.
The sensuous impression he looks upon simply as an
inchoate cognition."" It is not the senses that see
and hear, but the mind, availing itself of the senses to
procure information, combines and compares and

'^* L. 1. Ut quidam philosophi, cum a sensibus profecti majora quasdam ac
diviniora vidissent, sensus reliquerunt, sicisti, cum ex appetitione rerum virtutis
pulchritudinem adspexissent, omnia, qua; prajter virtutem ipsam viderant, ad-
jeccrunt, &c.

"* De Legg. i. 10. Inclioatx intclligeiitijc.

128 Gll^CO- ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

judges. ^^° And if, notwithstanding, Cicero does at
times concede to the senses a power of judging, its
operation, nevertheless, is confined to sweet and
bitter, near and distant, rest and motion, but not to
good and evil.^^^ According to the position which we
lately noticed, he was willing to admit this much
with those who wholly rejected the testimony of
sense, that there is a higher and a diviner nature
than can be know by the senses. Even that which by
its nature is sensuous must occasionally be submitted
to the cognition of the intellect, because it is
either so minute or so unsteady as to elude the
dulness of the senses. Moreover, he was disposed
to concede to the intellect the judgment on genera
and species, and the formation of notions which are
to represent things. ^'^^ But all the operations
which he thus ascribes to the intellect are very
vaguely conceived, and his doctrine concerning
them very carelessly and imperfectly worked out.
He neither disputes the opinions of Plato, or of
Aristotle, or the Porch, nor yet decidedly rejects
them ; he merely adduces them narratively, and
scarcely seems to be sufficiently aware of tlieir
respective differences. ^^^ Of the exei'cise of the
intellect by dialectic, he merely observes in general
that it is far from effecting that which the Stoics
make its principal merit ; it does not serve as a cri-
terium of truth and falsehood ; it is unable to
decide of any other truth than its own ;^^^ indeed it
furnishes cases itself of which it finds it impossible

"" Tusc. i. 20, "^ De Fin. ii. 12.

*« Ac. i. 8 ; ii, 7. '*' Of, Ac, i. 8, 9; ii. 46, sq, ^^* Ac. ii. 28,

CICERO. SENSATION. 129

to discover the solution ; as for instance, the sophisms
of the heap and the liar.^^^ But on this side the
Scepticism of Cicero is very weakly supported.

With greater diligence does he apply himself to
the investigation of the elements of human thought
which are furnished by sensation, both because he
felt his own mind to be more strongly convinced by
them, and because he posited it as in general
certain that all human cognition commences with
the senses. In this discussion he followed the New
Academy, to which he had attached himself, and in
the main his controversy is directed against the
Stoics and Antiochus, who pretended that certainty
might be deduced from the sensuous perception. His
arguments against the Peripatetic view of the cer-
tainty of knowledge are not, he admits, very
forcible.^'^^ So moderate is his doubt. Even the
assertion of Epicurus, that every sensuous impression
is valid and true, is briefly passed over with the
remark, that it is refuted by the illusions of the
senses.'^' But as to the Stoics; if, as they admit,
the senses sometimes deceive man, how is it pos-
sible to distinguish true and folse imj)ressions ?
The Stoics assume, indeed, that there are certain
sensations which exhibit objects in their truth, such
as could not arise from anytliing unreal, and
these they make to be the criteria of truth. Cicero,
liowever, adheres to the Academicians, who held
that such impressions cannot be clearly shown to
exist.^^'' For even though it siiould be admitted,
wjiat however cannot be proved, that there is not a

'« lb. 2f». sqq. «M lb. ii. ;«; ,|o Fill. V. 2«.

'" Ac. ii.sr,.. .M. lb. 26, .-{.5.

IV.

130 GH^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

perfect identity of things, and that therefore the
impressions of all things are, according to their
several differences, different ; yet, on the other
hand, the apparent resemblance of things is so
great, that we are often deceived by it, and cannot
distingnish the objects. Now if a deception of this
kind be possible, perception becomes doubtful in
every case, because it may happen to all equally.^^^
Cicero is here very skilful in fighting the Stoics
with their own weapons. He urges, that even if it
be conceded tliat an individual, by art and exercise
of his ingenuity, may arrive at a power of dis-
cerning the nicest shades of difference, this only
serves to prove more clearly the weakness of the
senses, so long as they are not strengthened by the
aid of art.^^° When the Stoics advanced the possi-
bility of apprehending a thing so accurately as to
preclude the chance even of delusion, they ascribed
this infallibility to the sage alone. This, therefore,
is only another way of denying certainty to man in
general ; for they are unable to point out who is
or ever has been a perfect sage ; they declare the
whole world to be foolish, and consequently deny
wisdom to the whole world. ^^^ To such height of
wisdom Cicero does not aspire ; for he maintains
that even the fool knows something, since he has a
conviction of the truth of sensible phenomena,

*'>' 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
cuju8<iue ill est qui8(|U0, non e.i figiira, qiiic dij^ito monstrari j)otc8t. Deum te
igitur scito esse, si <|uidcm deus est, qui vigct, (jui sentit, i|iii nieniinit, (|ui ))ro-
videt, qui tarn regit ct moderatur et movet id corpus, cui praepositus est, <|uam
liiinc miindum ille princciis deus. Tusc. i. 22.

"^ De Nat. D. iii. 10 fin. Ha;c cum csscnt dicta, ita di.sccssiniu.s, ut
Vcllcjo Cottae disjiutatio verier, mihi Balbi ad veritatis Biniilitudinem videretur
esse propcnsior. Cf. de Div. i. 5 ; ii. 72.

136 GR^CO-IIOMAN PHILOSOPHY.

God or gods, drawn from his objections to the
Stoical reasoning. We are disposed to think that,
on the whole, he was of the opinion which he has
put into the mouth of Cotta, that a man ought to
believe in the religion of his fathers; but* that phi-
losophy, not contented with such traditional belief,
demands a proof of the existence of the gods.^^^
The attempts of the Stoics to satisfy this demand,
he considers so weak as to render doubtful a point
which in itself is not so.^''* In a certain sense he
allows the demonstrative force of the Stoical argu-
ments in general, and especially of that which was
drawn from the general agreement of all nations
and individuals. ^'^^ For although he questions the
stringency of this argument likewise,^^^ yet on the
whole he is disposed to admit an affinity between
the divine and the human intellect as the basis of
all that is great in human nature,^" and which in
general reveals itself to man in the innate idea of a
divinity. But there is one point particularly to be
noticed in his objection to the reasoning of the
Stoics, which, as it proceeds from his general view
of nature, has, on that account, very great weight
with him. Cicero is accustomed so to oppose the
natural to the divine as to appear to admit, on the
one hand, a natureless God, and on the other a
godless nature. This contrariety was formed in his

1" De Nat. D, iii. 2, 3.

"* lb, 4. Affers hsec omnia argumenta, cur dii sint, remque mea sententia
rHiriime dubiam argumentando dubiam facis. Of. ib. i. 1.

"' He brings this frequently forward. Tusc. i. 13; de Legg. i. 8.

"" De Nat, D. iii. 4. Cf. i 23.

^ Ib, ii. 66. Nemo igitur vir magnus sine aliquo afflatu divine unquain
fuit, Tusc. i. 26 .

CICERO. NOTION OF GOD. 137

mind by his steady adherence to the general prin-
ciple that nothing* in nature is produced without a
cause, but that all is effected by a constraining
necessity of a series of causes in which no rational
reflection or design can produce a change. By
nature, accordingly, he understands a necessary
but irrational development ; and to the Stoics, who
seek to exhibit the regular events of the natural
world as a development of divine and rational
force, he objects, as a fair inference from their own
principles, that fevers and other diseases wdiich
return at regular intervals, must be looked upon as
strictly divine. ^^^ To the inference from the order
and beauty of the universe to the existence of a
rational divine first cause, he opposes the view that
all is reduced under eternal laws by the power of
natui'e, according to the gravity and necessary
motion of bodies, and confesses that his own mind
wavers between tlie view of the Stoics and the doc-
trine of Strato.^^''*

Duly to estimate tlie weight which this view of
nature necessarily liad upon his mind, we must wait
until we shall Ijave examined his view of divinity.
It is true, he sometimes admits the opinion, that
man is unable to know what or of what kind God is,
both because he eludes human sense, and the
highest perfection of virtue which we are able to
conceive cannot aptly be attributed to him ; ^*^*^ still it

^'"' De Nat. I), iii. Id. lie here also objects to the Stoics, that they neglected
the opposition ))etwcon reason and nature: (|iiid enim sit melius, r|uid prce-
ht;tbilius, f|uid inter naturam et ritionem iiitersit, non ilistinguitur.

'^'' lb. II. Naturae ista sunt, Balbe, nuturo; non artiKciose ambulantis, ut ait
Zcno, (jiiod (|ui(lcni '|uale sit, jam videbinuis, sed omnia cientis et agitantis
inolihus et nnitiilionibus suis, &e. Ac. ii. '.W.

'*" Tusc. i. 22. Nisi enim, quod nuiu|uam viilimus, id, quale sit, inteliigcrc

]38 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

is impossible for him, as he does entertain the idea of
God, not to form of it some particular conception so
as to distinguish the idea of God from all others by
some special characteristics. Of course, it is not to
be expected that Cicero should have reduced these
characteristics into a precise and scholastic formula :
they are found scattered through his works, and
expressed, moreover, with great reserve and inde-
cision. In the first place, although, with the an-
cients, he usually speaks of the divine generally, or
of a plurality of gods, he acknowledges the neces-
sity of assuming one supreme God as the creator,
or at least as the ruler of all things. ^^^ This su-
preme God, he considers, in the second place, as a
spirit which is free and remote from all mortal
mixture, perceiving and moving all things, and
endued with eternal motion in himself.^^^ This
view of God, rests on the conviction which Cicero
everywhere avows, of the affinity subsisting be-
tween the human mind and the divinity, and also
on his disposition generally, to consider God as the
soul of the world, combining with this view that
which is ascribed to Aristotle, that God is the re-
motest sphere of the heavens, which contains in
itself and regulates the motions of all the others. ^^^
It is clear therefore, that when Cicero calls God a
spirit, he is far from understanding thereby a purely

possumus, certe et deum ipsum et divinum animum corpore liberatum cogita-
tione complecti non possumus. De Nat. D. iii. 15.

1" Tusc. i. 28; de Legg. i. 7.

^^ Tusc. i. 27. Nee vero deus ipse, qui intelligitur a nobis, alio modo iiitel-
ligi potest, nisi mens soluta qua;dam et libera, segregata ab omni concretione
mortali, omnia sentiens et movens ipsaque praedita motu sempiterno.

^•^ DeRep. vi. 17,24; Ac. i. 7.

CICERO. MATERIALISM. 139

intellectual or incorporeal essence. God and his
spiritual nature being once admitted, he leaves his
readers at liberty to consider him either as fire, or
air, or the sether,^^^ and generally we find him
adopting the common opinion of his contemporaries,
which was derived from the materialism of the
Stoics, and represented the intellectual as nothing
more than a special kind of the corporeal. ^^^ With
this conception of the divine mind, he naturally hesi-
tated whether he ought not also to admit that the
divine itself is, equally with all other things, subject
to the universal and necessary laws of nature. For
however accustomed he may be to regard the divine
as the opposite of the natural, he nevertheless
appears occasionally to look upon it as a natural
entity, and therein even subjects it to the infinite
series of causes and effects which he elsewhere
declares to be irreconcilable with the freedom of
the rational will.'^*' It is inconceivable how the
doctrine of a divine providence could be reconciled
with such views ; and Cicero does not hesitate to
avow that the proposition, that all has been wisely
ordered by the gods, and that the good of man has
been in all things provided for by them, is open to
many and serious objections. When they gave
reason to man, they must have known how danger-
ous a weapon they were putting in his hands.

187

'"* Tu8c. i. 2G, 29.

"*-^ De Fin. iv. 5, 11. Cuju»cunr|ue enim modi animnl constitueris, nccossc
cat, etiam si id sine corpore sit, ut fingimus, tamen esso in animo
(|ua;dam similia eorum, qua: sunt in corporo. TIiuh Cicero invariably refers
Aristotle's doctrine concerning the fifth nature to the nature of the soul.
Tuse. i. 10, •-'(;.

'"'■ De Fato '.), 10. lie opposes the natural to the free will.

"^ De Nat. D. iii. 27, 32, 33.

140 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

Even the Stoic, he says, would not assert that all
things, even the most insignificant, equally indicate
the care of the gods. It is only for the greater ones
tliat they have cared, the little they despised/^

Now as Cicero, even while he discovered in
philosophy probable grounds at least for the belief
in the existence of a divine power, evinced, at the
same time, a great deference to the opposite view,
which rejected such a belief; we might suppose
that, agreeably to the general bent of his character,
he would even on this account have attached him-
self the more closely to the national religion. But
it must be remembered that the religion professed
by his own people, and by all others with whom
he was acquainted, was of such a nature that it
was impossible he could believe in it with perfect
reliance. As an enlightened statesman he must
liave come to the conclusion that, however advan-
tageous religion in general may be to a state, it is
highly prejudicial that vice and evil should be
worshipped as gods.^^^ On this ground he found it
impossible to agree with the Stoics who adopted the
popular faith with all its fables, to which they pre-
tended to give a rational interpretation. On the
contrary, as an enlightened and intelligent man of
business, and possessed of no small share of wit, he
openly evinces a disposition to turn into ridicule the
absurd conceptions of the people and the fables of
the poets, concerning the gods and divine things.^^*^
In this sceptical spirit he was but complying with

**" lb. ii. 66. Magna dii curant, parva negligunt.
"^ De Legg. ii. 11 ; de Nat. D. iii. 17.
"" Particularly tie Nat. D. iii, 15, sqq.

CICERO. \ATURE OF THE SOUL. 141

the general movement of mind in his age, whicli
was already preparing the way for the final over-
throw of paganism. With this prevailing tendency
the treatise on Divinity agrees, in which Cicero
expressly rejects a portion of the popular faith
although in other places he briefly speaks of it as
an institution politically useful. ^^^ It is evident
that he is disposed to view religion as a political
engine which, however, in all probability has its
foundation in a certain degree of truth ; but to com-
municate the truth simply and purely to the people
he holds to be inexpedient, since with all the light
of philosophy it had at best but worked on his own
mind a weak and hesitating^ conviction.

We have already noticed the close connection
which in his opinion subsisted between the divine
nature and the human soul, the latter being re-
garded as a part of the divine in the world : and
accordingly, all the doubts also, which beset his mind
as to the nature of the gods, equally affect his view
of the human soul. He by no means thinks it to
be a pure, incorporeal substance, and asserts that it
is vain to inquire into its nature, form, or seat;^^^
nevertlieless he hazards the conjecture, that its seat
may be either in the head, or perhaps in a peculiar
matter distinct from the earthly elements. ^'"^^ But
however it ought to be thought of, this one point
I's sure, that it does actually exist and exhibit
itself by its action in the same way that God does in

"" Particularly dc Legg. ii. 13, wlicro Cicero advances the ()i)iiiioii that the
art of divination is perhaps lost. There cannot be a doubt what was the true
opinion of Cicero.

'•'' Tusc. i. 27, 20. *'■'=' lb. 29.

142 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

his works. As a portion of the divine and rational
principle, Cicero is disposed to ascribe to it im-
mortality ; and in support of this probability uses,
with delight, all the arguments adduced by Plato/^^
without, however, being fully convinced by them.
For he recommends that implicit credence should
not be given to them,^^^ and thereby in order to
assure himself against the fear that death is an evil,
he adopts the ambiguous conclusion which Socrates
comes to in the Apology, that even in the case of
the soul's ceasing to exist at death, death cannot be
an evil ; for he who exists not, and has neither
sense nor perception, cannot have any experience
of evil. Even on this point we are disposed to
hope the best of his own personal conviction ; for
tlie lofty moral views entertained by Cicero impelled
him to take a worthy idea of the nature and des-
tination of humanity, wherewith the conviction of
the soul's immortality is so closely interwoven. ^^^
Accordingly, he spontaneously and frequently ex-
presses his persuasion of the soul's immortality in
those works which were designed to be generally
intelligible rather than philosophically accurate. ^^^
Now among the arguments which in such works he
adduces for a belief in the soul's immortality, the
leading one turns upon the common religious belief
and the universal consent of all nations and ages.^^^
On this point he might well agree with the ancestral
faith of his countrymen, since he found it to be in
unison with the opinion of the most eminent phi-
losophers. Yet, even here he meets with difficulties

"' lb. 12, sqq. ^'^ lb. 32, in. »« De Legg, i. 22, 23.

1"' De Sen. 21, sqq.; de Am. 3, 4. ^^^ rpygg^ j jo, sqq.

CICERO. FREE WILL. 143

wbicli repel his perfect assent, being unable, for
instance, to regard tlie account of the punishments
of the lower world in an}' other light than fables.^^^
It is only the possibility of greater happiness of the
soul after death that admits of hope; he refuses to
be terrified by the superstitious horrors which ren-
der death terrible. ^°*^

Among the doctrines connected with the nature
of the soul, that of free will was to Cicero's mind
of particular importance. It is at once conceivable
that his predominant bias for the practical, w^ould
induce him to defend this doctrine against all objec-
tions which might be derived from the supposition
of an inflexible destiny: he accordingly expresses, in
the strongest terms, a disposition to maintain it.
He would rather admit that a proposition can be
neither true nor false than that all is obedient to
fate ; ^^^ yet he hopes not to be driven to this ex-
tremity : ^'^^ but how he avoided the difficulty we
are unable to see, since unfortunately the MS. of his
work on Fate is defective in the very place which
probably contained his own views on the subject. ^*^^
'J'he way in which he has explained himself on the
necessity of fate, and on freedom, docs not, how-
ever, afiord much hope that he attained to a radical
solution of tlie difficulty : it is true that he skilfully
meets the objection that the freedom of tlie will
would Jlestroy the natural encliainment of cause
and effijct, by asserting that tlic free determination of
the will is such, that althoiigb it is in a num's own

'■" Tusc. i. 21.

'^ Uortfiis. iip. August, lie Trin. xiv. 1.0. de Senect. 21,

iOI

Do Fato, 10. 2(« I,, ,] ,f; -^3 Between the chapters 19and20.

144 GRiECO- ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

power, and obeys him, it does not do so without a
cause ; but that there is a cause of the volition in
the nature of the free will itself — that it is not abso-
lutely without a cause, but merely without an out-
ward and predisposing cause : ^"^ and if, when he
confesses that he is claiming no other liberty for
the will than that which according to the Epicu-
rean view belongs to the atoms, he may justly
boast, that he had no need, in order to defend the
doctrine of free will, to have recourse to the Epi-
curean assumption that atoms arbitrarily deviate
from the perpendicular ; ^°^ still we hardly allow
him the merit which he claims, of having success-
fully resolved all objections against the question.
For what is to be understood by his rejecting, in
the case of free will, all external and antecedent
causes, as if it were possible to entertain the idea of
a free being apart from such antecedent and
external causes ? And who will concede to any
nature a liberty which is irrespective and abso-
lute ? These are not objections which could be
easily overlooked ; and we do not see how Cicero
could have believed that he had satisfactorily esta-
blished the freedom of the will, independent and in
spite of the external enchainment of cause and effect.
It would almost seem as if he had relied ultimately
on the view that free will is indispensable to mo-
rality, since an inflexible necessity would destroy all

*** lb. 11. Motus enim voluntarius earn naturatn in se ipse continet, ut sit
in nostra potestate, nobis ]-areat, nee id sine causa; ejus enim rei causa ipsa
natura est. He seems to liave borrowed his view from Carneades, to whose
authority he here appeals.

2"-' L. i ; ib. '20.

CICERO. OBJECTIONS TO EPICUREAN ETHICS. 145

responsibility, and praise or blame, reward or punish-
ment, be equally unjust.^"^

On a general review of these physical investiga-
tions, it is plain that they are connected with his
own moral convictions. When we treated of the
features of his Scepticism in general, we observed
that Cicero wavered between the Peripatetic and
the Academic views of morals, but that he was
opposed, as decidedly as it was possible for one of
his frame of mind to be, to the Epicurean doctrine.
It now remains for us to point out this fact in detail.

As an objection of great force to the Epicurean
doctrine, he urges the dignity of human nature.
Nature, he argues, formed man for some higher
object than for the merely sensuous pleasures and
corporeal gratifications which alone the genuine
Epicurean recommends. Even man's natural
self-love, he remarks, is not directed to pleasure ;
for we love pleasure not for itself but for our own
sakes.^^^ Science and virtue are in themselves a
source of pleasure, and cannot be recommended
simply as means to the attainment of corporeal
gratifications. Nature has laid duties upon man ;
she has implanted in him, as a sign of his divine
origin, a love of friends, of family, of country, of
all mankind of which he is a member.^*^^ In the
presence of God, i. e. before liis own divine mind,
man irresistibly feels a reverence and respect,^"'"*
Nothing can be esteemed as good which does not

■*^' lb. 12, 17. : '^ DeFin. V. 11.

»<* De Fin. i. 7 ; ii. 24 ; De Leg. i. 7.

"** De Off. iii. 10. Cum vero junito scntciitia diccnda sit, nicminerit dcum
Be adhibere testcm, id est, ut arbitror, mcntcm Huum, <|ua nihil honiiiii dcdit deus
ipse divinius.

IV. L

146 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

make its possessor good ; Socrates, that genuine
philosopher, was right in condemning those who
were the first to draw a distinction between the
useful and the good, which by nature are bound
together.^^'^ The sinful man punishes himself by the
evil sentiments which he cherishes within his own
mind ; ^^^ duty is not to be discharged for the sake
of any advantage that may possibly accrue, but the
rewards of duty are to be sought in duty itself.^^^
In these and like propositions Cicero attacks the
pursuit of pleasure and selfishness of the Epicurean
theory of morals, and avows his own aspirations for
a purer morality.

Nevertheless, he will not give in his adhesion to
the Stoical theory, which acknowledges no other
than moral good. Moderate pleasure, he says, is
not to be condemned ; ^^^ pain even when it is
endurable without necessarily disturbing the equa-
nimity of the sage,^^^ must yet be viewed as an evil,
inasmuch simply as it hinders the practice of
virtue.^^^ Virtue itself could not exist unless there
were external good things, among which it is to
make its choice, and a nature for virtue from which
it proceeds, and which it labours to preserve and
improve. ^^^ The sage, therefore, cannot be happy
without the aids of fortune.^^'^ The position of the
Stoics is intolerable, which declares that the sage
alone is good, but that all other men are equally
bad, and all transgressions equal ; as if the good

=^1" Parad. i. ; De Off. ii. 3, ; iii. 3. 5, ^u jjg q^ yj g_

"12 De Fin. ii. 22. "'^ De Sen. 14. ^n ^usc. ii, 18.

^1^ Ibid. 13. '^i^ De Fin. iv. 15 ; v. 23, 24.

"" Ibid. V. 26 ; Tusc, v. 25, 26.

CICERO. OBJECTIONS TO STOICAL DOCTRINE. 147

things which are put in peril by their respective vices
were of equal worth, and a distinction was not to be
drawn between those who obstinately devote them-
selves to ignorance and vice and deliberately do ill,
and those who on a sudden impulse, which is usually
but transitory, are carried away to wrong.^^^ In this,
and other points connected with it, Cicero attacks
the Stoical doctrine, because it appears to him to be
opposed to the practical wisdom which it was his
object to attain to, since the sage for whom such
precepts are applicable is nowhere to be found in
the world, and consequently there is no one to
whom good can be attributed, or of whom it can be
demanded.^^^ On the other hand he gladly adopts
the Stoical division of duties into middle and perfect,
in order that by so doing he may, in some degree, set
himself in unison with their doctrine, since its prin-
ciples have probability at least in their favour. He
admits it to be quite clear that the perfect sage
alone can act perfectly well and perfectly perform
his duty, but he states that his own purpose is to
treat only of such imperfect duties as can be dis-
charged by the ordinary upright man, who at most
possesses a certain resemblance to the sage. In such
a character there is a virtue, even though it may
be in a very imperfect measure. ^^"

"* De Fin. iv. 28 ; de Oft', i. 8 fin. ; Cf. de Fin. iv, 20.

*" De Am. 5. Sed hoc primuni sentio, nisi in bonis amicitiam esse non
posse; nef)uc id ad vivum rcseco, ut illi, <iui linac subtilius disscriint ; fortasse
vere, sed ad communem utilitatcm parum. Negaiit cnim rjuemtjuani virum
bonum esse, nisi sapicntcm. Sit ita sane. Sed c<im 8ai)iontiani inkrpretantur,
quam adliuc mortalis nemo est consecutus. Nos autem ea, qua; sunt in usu
vitaque communi, non ea, qu;c .*inguntur aut optantur, spcctare debemus. The
words " fortasse vere " reveal Cicero's indecision, and cxphiin liow it was possible
for him to speak diffcrenlij' on other occasions ; but we must follow that which
he gives us to understand as his predominant opinion.

^ De Off. iii. .3, 4.

148 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

The more Cicero departs from the Stoics, tlie
more he approximates to the Peripatetic doctrine of
morals, which while it maintains that corporeal and
external advantages, when put into the scale against
virtue, weigh nothing ; and that therefore they
ought not for a moment to be placed in the same
rank with it, nevertheless, regard them as in them-
selves of value to man.^^^ Health, property,
honours, friends, country, appear to him worthy
objects of desire, even though a man should not
be able to rise to that rigour of virtue which regards
all such things as unnecessary to happiness, and
feels assured that, even within the bull of Phalaris,
it should be able to find and maintain the ex-
treme good. But as he did not fail to discover
that the Peripatetics did not unhesitatingly ascribe
this sustaining energy to virtue, Cicero felt it to
be impossible to adhere in all points to their
moral theory. Thus he occasionally complains of
the laxity of the Peripatetics, as doing dishonour to
the majesty of virtue. Moreover, as we previously
remarked, he found it difficult to justify the pre-
eminence which they gave to the theoretical over
the practical. But his opposition was not confined
to these points, but he even directly attacks the
fundamental principle of the Aristotelian ethics,
and expressly declares that he cannot assent to its
definition of virtue. On the contrary, he agrees
with the Stoics in regarding the passions and
emotions of the soul as vices; as he believes it to be
his duty to labour after the highest courage, and
that absolute self-command of the soul, which finds
all its comfort in itself, he refuses to admit the idea

^^ DeFin. v. 23; de Off. iii. 3.

CICERO. OBJECTIONS TO PERIPATETIC VIEWS. 149

that virtue can consist in the moderation of such
states, and in a mean between too much and too
little of the mental emotions.^^^ He demands how
it can be possible to restrain or to moderate the
passions when once room has been given to them in
the mind.^"^^ If the Peripatetics praised them as
the motives to action and to every kind of practical
virtue, he objects that in so doing the Peripatetics,
after the manner of orators, did but adorn irrational
matters with fine names, while the Stoics, on the
other hand, who represented these passions as violent
desires, opposed both to nature and to reason, gave
thing's tlieir right names. ^^^ This remark coincides
with all his speculations on the subject of virtue.
For he agrees with Zeno in opposing the Peripa-
tetic doctrine, that there is a real virtue of nature
and of habit, and insisting that reason alone^^' is
the principle of virtue, and accordingly he denies
that the virtues are really distinct from each other,
and asserts that when they are so spoken of it is
merely in compliance with ordinary language and
the popular notions on the subject. By the pre-
cept that man ought to live agreeably to nature, as
understood by Cicero, it is not meant that the cor-
poreal nature, which is the basis of human life, is to
\)(i neglected, but that the essential object of man's

^^ Tusc. iv. 17. Quocirca mollis et enervata putanda est Peripateticorum
ratio et oratio, qui j)erturbari animos necesse esse dicunt, sed adhibeiit modum
(|ueiidam, (|uem ultra jirogredi non oportcat. Modum lu adhibes vitio ? &c.

"^ Ibid. iv. 1« ; do Off. i. 25. ^■'' Tusf. iv. 1.0. s<|.|.

*" Ac. i. 10. (iuumquc superiores (sc. Peripaletici) non omnt-ni virtutcm
in ratioiie esse dicerent, sed quasdam virtutes uatura aut more profectas, hie
(sc. Zeno) oinnes in ratione ponebat. In a non-ethical sense other kinds of
virtuc'werc also admitted. De Fin. v. \'i.

150 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

pursuit-^is inward perfection or virtue. ^^^ For in
man's nature the soul plays the chief part, and all
must obey it ; but in the soul the reason holds the
first rank, as the part which is to be improved by
human volition. ^^'^ Whatever in the soul is formed
by nature, must obey reason, as is evident from
every one seeking to be able to give to himself a
probable reason for all his moral actions. The desires,
therefore, which belong to nature, must be in sub-
jection to the reason. ^^^ From these principles it is
clear that Cicero makes the moral character of an
action to be founded on reflection and reason, and
that he consequently rejected in the consideration of
morality, any dependence of the reason on the
natural tendencies of the soul.^^^

An attentive examination of the mode in which
Cicero endeavours to combine the Stoical with the
Peripatetic theory of morals, will convince us that he
had formed on these subjects a peculiar view, which
originated not so much in any scientific and rigorous
connection of ideas, as in the natural and individual
characteristics of the man. These prevented him
from adhering entirely either to the Peripatetic or
to the Stoical notion of good, and led him insensibly
to form a different idea from either, of the proper
end of human exertion. This will be distinctly
manifest in the general ideas under which he
conceived all morality. If the Greek philosophers
had asserted that the beautiful alone is good, Cicero,
on the contrary, influenced by the phraseology
of his native tongue, maintains that the honour-

226

Ac. i. 1 ; de Off. ii. 10. ^^ De Off. iii. 3.

=«« De Fin. v. 12. ^'^^ Ibid. 13 ; de Off. i. 28, 29.

CICERO. THE HONOURABLE — THE BECOMING. 151

able alone is good/^^ and liolds that his own pro-
position is identical with that of the Greeks. This
is his usual language : for where we should speak
of moral good, he speaks of the honourable, and
simply shows that by the term honourable, nothing
is to be understood but what is truly deserving of
praise, even though it be not praised; in a word,
virtue.^^^ Virtue is to his mind pre-eminently dis-
tinguished from every thing else by the splendour
of its worth. ^^^ If he wishes to show how man is
impelled by nature to pursue moral good, he ap-
peals to the emulation displayed by the young, their
competition with their fellow's for pre-eminence, and
to the labour and pains they willingly undergo for
the sake of praise. ^^^ To the honourable, he opposes
the base, as the evil which all men ought to avoid. ^^^
True honour he makes to be equivalent with virtue ;
he distinguishes it, it is true, from glory, but at the
same time acknowledo-es that it has a resemblance
to it.^^' On this account he considers the resem-
blance between the good and the becoming, to be so
close as to justify him in placing the terms side by
side as cfjuivalent.^^-' A difierence may perhaps be
found between them, but it is such as hardly to

ioo rpjig i,Q;j(]i„ gof t],e first paradox is, tin fiovov ayaObv to kuXov. Quod
lionestum sit, id solum bonum esse.

"' De Fin ii. 14. Honestum igitur id intelligimus, quod tale est, ut detracta
omni utilitatc sine ullis prxmiis fructibueque per sc ipsum possit laudnri. Ibid.
m ; de Off. i. 4 fin. Q,uod ctiam si iiobilitatum non sit, tamen honestum sit^
i|uodr[ue vcre dicimu?, etiam si a nullo hiudctur, natura esse laudabilc. Ue Fin.
V. 21. Itaquc omnis hones, omnia admiratio, omne studium ad virtutem ct ad
eas actiones, ([Uie virtuti sunt consentanea-, refertur, eaque omnia, qua: aut ita
geruntur, uno nomine honesta dicuntur. Ibid. 23.

*» De Fin, v. 22 fin. *"•* Dc Fin. v. 22 in.

"* L. 1 ; de Off. iii. Ii. *'* De Fin. v, 24 in.

^^ De Fin. ii. 1 1. Quia dccet, quia rectum, quia honestum est.

152 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

admit of being expressed in words. ^^^ The be-
coming, is ever in close attendance on the good, and
is evinced principally in the deference which in all
our actions we show towards others, diligently seek-
ing to obtain their good opinion, and to avoid
whatever may give them offence. ^^^ Thus does the
moral theory of Cicero strive after the approbation
of men. Indeed, the very notion of the becoming,
appropriately expresses this tendency of his moral
precepts In all points he demands, that due re-
gard should be paid to the circumstances of life of
the individual, his relation to others, and what is
agreeable to them, and calculated to win their
applause. ^^^ In these requisitions, Gicero mani-
festly recedes from the severe tone of the Stoical
ethics, which elevated the sage too high above his
fellow-men to pay any regard to them. At the
same time it is also strikingly apparent that his
theory of morals was designed for the upper classes,
by whom alone it was likely to be read, and that it
has consequently been accommodated to their posi-
tion and circumstances in life.^^° As he himself
was passionately fond of glory, he sought to employ
and recommend it as a powerful stimulus for good.

^^^ De Off. i. 27. Qiialis autem differentia sit honesti et decori, facilius in-
telligi, quam explanari potest.

^^ De Off. i. 28, Adhibenda est igitur quffidam reverentia adversus homines
et optimi cujusque et reliquorum. Nam negligere, quid de se quisque sentiat
non solum arrogautis est, sed etiam omnino dissoluti. Est autem, quod differat
in hominum ratione adhibenda inter justitiam et verecundiam. Justitiae partes
sunt non \aolare homines, verecundiae non offendere, in quo maxime perspicitur
vis decori.

=«^ Ibid. 35.

^^ Cf. de Off. i. 42, The notes of Garve to liis translation of the De
Officiis llirow much h'ght on this subject.

CrCEIlO, POLlTlCxVL CAST OF HIS ETHICS. 153

He was unable to sympathise with the Grecian
philosophers, who, as writing for the school, placed
all pleasure in the retired life of scientific reflection,
or in the self-sufficient independence of the sage.
If Plato was of opinion that the sage would take no
part in state affairs except of necessity, because he
has higher objects of his own to pursue, Cicero
taught, on the other hand, that the ruler of a state
ought to be fed with glory, and the desire of dis-
tinction animate him to laudable deeds. ^"

It will hardly be expected that we should give all
the details of Cicero's moral theory, for it presents
but few and occasional traces of original thought,
and on the whole is the result of observation rather
than of any pliilosophical principle. His particular
precepts are in general founded on the patriotic
wish of the statesman to benefit his people atid his
contemporaries, and it would be vain to expect very
strict rules for the regulation of life to be laid down
by a man of the world. In this direction also his
views of the honourable and the becoming naturally
worked. It is true that the conduct which he en-
joins is not limited to what the law simply demands ;
on the contrary, a true spirit of morality leads him
to forbid much that the laws neither prohibit nor
punish. ^'^ Indeed, he even goes so far as to ac-
knowledge that a man ought not to look so much to
the a|)j)robation of tlie multitude, as to the testi-
mony of his own conscience ; but that still he ought

**' De Rep. v. 7. The fr;iginerit i» not very clear, Ijut its opposition to the
tlifory of ['lato is ohvious.

'"'■' De I'in, ii. l.'l; de Off. iii. 17. Relative to this point is his distinction
between the lex natura- and the jux civile. On this point cf. de Lcgg. i. ,5 ;
iii. 20 fin. Hiit^tlie contrariety is uirderstnod by Cicero in a variety of senses.

154 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

not to deviate far from the common walks of life, and
from tlie circumstances which society may seem to
demand, even though they should not be strictly
reconcilable with morality. ^^^ Thus he agreed with
Paneetius, that an advocate may justly lend his
eloquence to an unjust cause; adding, however, the
remark, that he was here speaking as a philosopher
only, though at the same time he gladly availed him-
self of the authority of the Stoics to justify an opinion
which he himself had often enough acted upon.^^^
Thus, too, he thinks, that what it would not be
honourable to do in our own case we may justly
undertake for the sake of a friend, on whose behalf
also it would be right to depart, in a critical emer-
gency, from the straight path of justice. ^^^ His
works are full of such rules of expediency, although
in general he will not admit that the useful ever
comes into collision with the moral.

To the regard which Cicero paid to the results of
experience and observation we must probably ascribe
the fact, that he has insisted, to a greater degree
than any other philosopher with whom we are ac-
quainted, that due respect should in every matter be
paid to the pecuhar disposition of the individual.
When he gives his opinions on the subject of the
becoming, he expressly asserts the principle that in
the conduct of life every one ought to look to his

^' Tusc. ii. 2G fin. Nullum theatrum viituti conscientia majus est.

'•^'* De Off. ii. 14.

*" De Am. IG. Quae in no^tris rebus non satis honeste, in amicorum fiunt
lionestissime. lb. 17. Ut etiam si qua fortuna accident, ut minus justse ami-
corum voluntates adjuvanilEe sint, in quibus eorum aut caput agatur aut fama,
declinandum sit de via, modo ne summa turpitude sequatur.

CICERO. REGARD FOR INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES. 155

own nature ; which he does not regard as defective,
or as conflicting in any degree with the universal
nature of man. He does not even consider it as a
direct limitation of nature, even while he admits
that it may occasionally prevent a man from pur-
suing a high and noble end, which is beyond his
natural capacity, since there can be no moral obli-
gation for an impracticable pursuit. On the con-
trary, he simply holds that the natures of individual
men may be distinguished from each other by
peculiar characteristics, and that according to this
difference, which has its foundation in nature, every
one has his part in life to play, if he would follow a
consistent course and avoid all ridiculous imitation.^^^
This conclusion gives rise to the precept, that every
one ought to choose a mode of life and vocation
agreeable to his natural disposition ; that one will
rightly devote himself to philosophy, another to
war, a third to oratory, and others to such occupa-
tions as they may severally deem to be becoming a
free citizen. Blindly to follow a paternal profession,
or to do a thing because it is the general fashion, is
highly foolish. ^^'^ He admits, it is true, that external
circumstances must influence in some degree the
choice of a profession, but insists that individual cha-
racter ought liere to be of the greatest weight, since
circumstances are more liable to change than
nature, and consequently a plan of life adopted
from a due regard to the latter will be more con-
sistent than one accommodated to the former.^"*
And thus he arrives at the view, that in the cxten-

»^'' DeOtf. i. 31. "' II). .TJ, 33. ^"' lb. 33.

156 GR.£CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

sive field of moral duty a multitude of particular
paths may be traced out, of which one may be ap-
propriately followed by one individual, and another
by a second. When, however, he carries this view
so far as to maintain that different individuals are
calculated to shine in different virtues,^^^ he again
falls off from the Stoics to adopt the Peripatetical
doctrine ; a circumstance which affords an expla-
nation of his having failed to see distinctly the
difference between the choice of a profession and
the choice of moral principles. ^^^

Of one who, like Cicero, had grown grey, and
attained to the highest distinction, in public affairs,
we might perhaps expect that he would have entered
upon a philosophical investigation into the principles
of government and law, in which his own expe-
rience would have furnished him with much that
was both novel and true. But we should remember
that it requires one quality of mind to determine
what in given circumstances is advisable and prac-
ticable, and to devise the means of carrying it into
execution, but another to induct general laws from
given particulars. Tt should also be borne in mind,
that many doubts would naturally suggest them-
selves to the mind of a politician, who had not
entirely withdrawn from public life, of the expe-
diency of promulgating his own opinions of the
constitution of his country and its administration,
and deter him from expressing openly and unre-
servedly the peculiar, instructive, and valuable

^' lb. 32.

^ This is proved at length by Garve in the notes to his tianslatiou of the
De Officiis, &c. p. 165, sqq.

CICERO. VIEWS OF THE STATE AND LAWS. 157

conclusions which his long experience had enabled
him to form. It is, therefore, with very little
hope of information on these points that we take
up Cicero's two treatises, De Republica and De
Legibus. And yet we cannot but feel surprise and
disappointment when, after the promise he gives of
a treatise on the Republic, which, as founded on the
results of his own experience and the recorded
opinions of earlier statesmen, should far surpass all
similar works of the Greeks,^^^ he yet reveals but
few traces either of peculiar opinions, or of original
and independent ideas upon the subject. The phi-
losophical parts of these works are even more than
usually weak. .It is true that we only possess some
fragments of the treatise on the Republic, but these
are sufficient to enable us to judge of the philoso-
phical character of the whole. He avows that his
own is an imitation of Plato's work on the same sub-
ject, but on a larger basis ; while his essay on the
Laws was on the model of a similar treatise of the
same philosopher. Many passages, indeed, are ap-
parently based on tlie Platonic notion of justice ;
nevertheless, on a closer examination of his work,
it is evident that his idea of a state was not formed
after the opinions of Plato, but after one wliich, origi-
nally introduced by Aristotle but greatly modified
by subsequent historians, was now, we may believe,
pretty widely diffused. The changes wliich this
opinion underwent in its general features may be
learned from Polybius,''^'^ with whom Cicero has in

*" De Rep. i. 22, 23.

*" Polyb. vi. .5. We are referred to Polyljius by Kiilincr also. (M. Tullii
Ciceroiiis in iliilosojihiam cju8(|ue fiarlcs meriUi. Uamb. 1H26.) p. 261, 2(;7,

158 GR^CO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

common (wliich, however, he declares to be the
peculiar novelty of his own work) attempted to
develop the principles of political government by
the instance of the Roman constitution./^ But
when he took the republic as a model,/* and sought
to show by its progressive history what was the
best basis for the foundation of a state, he but
flattered the prejudices of his countrymen and his
own patriotic spirit, more than one who despaired
of the fortunes of his country could justify even to
his own mind. Accordingly, he was not so blind a
worshipper of the Roman constitution as not to find
much to censure. He does perhaps paint it some-
what in ideal colours, but still he owns much remains
for the improving hand of statesmen. Thus we find
him again, even in this domain of inquiry, distracted
by conflicting tendencies, and it is manifest that
this must have greatly increased his sceptical habit
of thought.

A few traits will be sufl[icient, if we bear in mind
the earlier doctrines of the Greek philosophers on
the subject, to make ourselves acquainted with his
general views. Of the pure forms of polity he most
disapproves of the democratic, because it does not
concede to its more distinguished citizens any

271. Yefe Cicero seldom mentions Polybius, and only twice in the fragments
of the De Republica, ii. 14 ct iv. 3, but so that we are able to see that he had
not omitted to peruse the parts of Polybius' work which related to his subject.
Two other passages, de Off. iii. 32, ad Att. xiii. 30, also belong to these parts
cf. Polyb. vi, 58. Cicero mentions two Stoics who had treated at length of
politics, Dion, a contemporary of Chrysippus (Diog. L. vii. 190, 192), unless the
conjecture is correct which would substitute Diogene for Dione, and Panaetius.
De Legg. iii. 5, 6. Cf. also Diog. L, vii. 131.

*" De Rep. ii. 11, 30.

^'* lb. i. 46; de Legg. i. G; ii. 10.

CICERO. A MIXED POLITY THE BEST. 159

superior degree of dignity ;^'^^ but a monarchy is
his favourite, which he compares to the rule of the
one reason over the multitude of passions.^'^^ But
he observes that in all purer forms of polity, there
is both generally a tendency to corruption, and also
a peculiar fault in each. For in a monarchy
the simple citizens are without a due share of true
freedom, of common rights, and general deliber-
ation. In an aristocracy, the same is the case with
the majority ; while on the other hand the general
equality of a democracy, which denies all distinc-
tion even to its most illustrious citizens, is unjust -^"'^
on this account his ideal of a government is a
mixed form in which all the three pure forms are
combined. ^^^^ This view he applies to the Roman
polity, in wdiich he finds all the three elements
combined : the monarchical element in the authority
of the consuls, the aristocratic in the senate, and the
democratic in the share which the people, either
directly or indirectly through the tribunes, had in
the administration of the state.^^^ He also boasts of
the magnitude of the Roman power in comparison
with the petty states which Plato had for his
model ; and justifies the sway of the Roman peo-
ple over the conquered provinces, on the same prin-
ciples that enable liim with Plato and Aristotle to
justify slavery.^*^^^ In the same spirit of deference to
what was actually existing in the Roman state, he
approves of an elective rather tlian an hereditary
monarchy,'^*^' and extols the prudence of their anccs-

*** De Rep. i. 20, 27. ^'■'^ lb, 3!].

'*^ lb. 27, 2a, .',1. »58 lb. 29, 45.

*** lb. ii. 2.3, 32, 33. ""^ 11. 30 ; iii. 24. 25. "«' U). ii. 12.

160 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

tors in limiting the consular power to a year, in order
that it might not be too strong for all others. But
if with this general approbation of the Roman con-
stitution, he yet found some particular institutions
or customs to blame, these, nevertheless, are very
unimportant. Thus he even finds reasons to com-
mend the tribunate, which had cost himself so dear,
and maintains, that though it may contain much
that is evil, it still is the source of this incalculable
good— that it gave the people a guide which might
be put down more easily than the unrestrained
power of the multitude.^^^ It is clear that his
object is rather to restrain than to enlarge the power
of the people. But he goes still further. The
treatise De Legibus contains many passages, which
advise that the semblance alone of liberty should be
granted to the people, but in fact all real power be
denied to it. He even approves of Plato's pro}»osi-
tion : That the authorities are on some occasions
justified in deceiving the people.^*^^ This advice
was not thrown aw^ay ; but it was not to profit the
elective authority of the consuls, as Cicero intended,
but the stern domination of a Caesar.

Our examination of the philosophy of Cicero
may perhaps appear to have been carried to a length
disproportioned, both to the results which we have
obtained by it, and to the object of our work. For
properly, it does not indicate any progress of phi-
losophy. Whatever we liave advanced as the
opinions of Cicero, is merely a repetition of earlier
doctrines, with an attempt to adjust them to each
other, and to accommodate them to the national

*''■' L)e Legg. iii. 10. sos jj_ g_ ^j^ Lggg_ jjj^ p,^ j^^

INFLUENCE OF CICERo's WRITINGS. 161

character, in which both principles and consequences
lose something of their scientific vigour. But even
in this blunted form they worked, perhaps, the more
efficiently in subsequent ages, which derived their
civilization from the Latin literature. In this re-
spect we may consider the philosophical writings
of Cicero as the foundation, not merely of the sub-
sequent Roman philosophy, but also, in part, of the
philosophy of the Latin fathers of the Christian
church in the middle ages, and even of the philo-
sophy which was diffused after the revival of letters.
If they have been little valued by profounder phi-
losophers, they have, on the other hand, had a
greater influence on the general enlightenment,
and we ought never to forget what a powerful,
although secret influence the general enlightenment
exercises on the development of philosophy. ^^^ He
therefore, who wishes to understand the history of
philosophy, must turn his eye not only to what has
been taught by the greatest philosophers, but must
also attend to the manner in which the extreme
conclusions of a vigorously developed philosophy
are softened down, partly by mutual collision, and
partly by the opinions which the enlightened ex-
perience of practical men has raised to the form of
general results; and how these modified conclusions
leave ultimately to science on the whole a somewhat
wavering, yet on some points decided view, which,

*•* From such a point of view, Ilcrbart in his treatise on the pliilosopliy of
Cicero, in the Konigsl)ergur Aroliiv fur l'}iiloHO]))n'e u. s. w, .Jahrg. 11111. 1.
Stck. has recommended the writings of this author as a popular introduction to
the study of philosophy. This essay is a noble composition, and contains
much that is worthy of grave reflection.

IV M

162 GRiECO-ROMAN PHILOSOPHY.

however, is well calculated to stimulate subsequent
inquiry. We ought, therefore, to regard it as a piece
of good fortune, when in these periods of transition
we occasionally meet with such skilful expositors of
the prevailing opinions, as Cicero was for those of
his own age and country.

CHAPTER III.

PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY NEW

CYNICS AND STOICS.

The influence of the Roman character on the prac-
tical tendency, is particularly noticeable in a series of
philosophers, who, although they are usuall}^ ascribed
to separate schools, so closely resemble each other in
the nature of their labours, that it appears ill-advised
to separate them in our notice. The mere circum-
stance that the discourses and writings of some were
in Greek, and of others in Latin ; that the former
was the vernacular tongue of some, and the latter
of others, is of little importance in an age in which
national peculiarities were being rapidly confounded.
And as the truth is, that while a gradual develop-
ment and diffusion of such doctrines is distinctly
traceable, nothing like a regular succession of the dif-
ferent scliools can be discovered ; the order, therefore,
which we propose to observe in this exposition is,
to mention in the first place the less important
undertakings of this kind, and then its more fully
developed forms. Agreeably with this plan, the
Stoics, under the Roman emperors, will form its
close.

As in our review of Cicero's philosophy we found
that among the Romans independence of thought
was, for the most part, confined to making a selection

M 2

164 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

from the various doctrines of the Greek philosophers,
so we meet with a similar phenomenon in the case of
Sextiiis. Quintus Sextius lived at Rome in the times
of Julius Caesar and Augutsus. A residence of his
at Athens is also mentioned.^ Having a distaste for
politics, he devoted himself to philosophy,^ and he
founded a school at Rome, which appears to have
attracted many disciples.^ This school is expressly
styled a new one,^ even by those who acknowledged
its pre-eminently Stoical character.^ But on account
of the Pythagorean doctrines, which lie unquestion-
ably adopted, he was placed in that school also by
many in later times. His works were written in
Greek, but in a style which at once reveals a Roman
spirit and Roman habits.^ For these are manifestly
seen in the prevailing object of his works, which
was to improve the state of morals and to substitute
for the morbid supineness of his contemporaries a
more manly spirit. For although he did not

1 Sen. Ep. 98; Plin. Hist. Nat. xviii. 28.
^2 Sen. 1. 1; Plut. de Prof, in Virt. 5.

* Sen. Q,u. Nat. vii. 32. In addition to his son and Sotion, rhetoricians and
grammarians are named as his disciples. Suet, de Clar. Gramm. 18, where
for Q. Septimii, we must probably read Q,. Sextii, Sen. Controv. ii. Praef, of.
Ep. 40, 100; Quint, x. 1, 124.

* Sen. Qu. Nat. vii. 32. in opposition to the Pythagorean school.
5 Sen. Ep. 64.

* Sen. Ep. 59. Grtecis verbis, Romanis moribus. Q,uaest. Nat. vii. 32.
Sextiorum nova et Romani roboris secta. The dispute whether the collection
of sentences given by Th. Gale (Opusc. Mythol. Phys. et Eth. Amstel. 1688,
p. 645 — 656,) is to be considered as a Latin translation of those of Sextius, or
the work of some Christian, is of little importance to us. It appears, it is true,
that the groundwork of them belongs to a certain Sextus, but whether he is our
Sextius is doubtful, and there is evidently so much of Christian sentiments
mixed up with the rest as to render it utterly useless as a source of history.
The traces of Pythagoras to be discovered in it are very slight indeed. Cf.
Orelli Opusc. Graacorum Veterum Sententiosa et Moralia, i. p. 14, sqq.

Q. SEXTIUS. 165

wholly neglect physics, yet it was only to his
ethical treatises that any importance was ascribed.
These manifestly enjoined a very rigorous practice
of virtue. Virtue he depicts as truly great and
sublime ; yet he gives a hope to man that he may
attain to such excellence, if he will but strive after
it with right earnestness.'^ Such earnestness is
necessary ; for there are too many things to seduce
man to luxury, effeminacy, and vice. Man's life is
one constant struggle ; he ought incessantly to hold
himself prepared.^ Now the means which Sex-
tius recommends for the attainment of virtue, are
self-knowledge and temperance. He exhorts every
one at the close of each day to examine himself
as to the good he ma}^ have done, the vice he
may have resisted, or the improvement he may-
have made.^ He recommends the passionate man to
look at himself in a mirror during his paroxysm,
and he will then perceive the hatefulness of anger.^"
He advances, moreover, a precept which strongly
savours of Pythagorean doctrines — he requires of
the virtuous a total abstinence from animal food.
J5ut the reasons he gives, for such a practice are not
Pytliagorean, for he founds it on an opinion that
variety of food is unhealthy and prejudicial to the
body. It is also necessary to deprive luxury of its
incentives, and men ought not to habituate them-
selves to cruelty." These precepts bear a severe
and rigorous character, and in agreement with their

' I'lin. 1.1. * Sen. Ep. 69, 64. " Sen. rle Ira, iii. .%.

" lb. ii. 36.

" Stn. Ep. lOIt, But Sextius does not unconditional ly forl)id llie nse of
animal food; lie only declares it to be advisid>le 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 <Pu)pd
VoiiTiov, the title Kara rwv Xptianjpiwv probably belongs only to a portion of
the entire work. lulian. Orat. v. 20.'», cd. Spanh.

^ lulian. Orat. vi. p. I(i7. o KvrirTfibg ovri ' AvriaOtviafioi^ lariv ovrt
AtoytniT^oc.

^' Euseb. Pr. Ev. vi. 7- 'H i^ouffi'a, ii]v vfiuc t^^v nvroKparopu rHv uvay-
KttioTnriov Tid'tpiOa. Tlieod. fir. AfT. Cur. vi. |>. 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. Mov<j(j)vwc-

'* Suid. 8. V. riwXiwv, Plin. Ep. vii. 31. According to this passage Muso-
nius is also called Bessus. There is a slight variation in the inscription of the
fragment given by Stob. Serm. Append, p. 385 (15). Another source ap-
parently for the philosophy of Musonius is furnished by the Discourses and
Extracts of Stobeus, which frequently bear the title, 'Pov^ov ik twv 'Ettck-
Tr}Tov Trep'i OiiKiaQ. Probably maxims of Musonius Rufus, which passed from
the mouth of Epictetus into the works of Arrian. See Schweighaeuser Epict.
Phil. Monum. iii. p. 195.

STOICS. L. MUSONIUS RUFUS. 189

were written in Greek by Claudius Pollio, after the
model of Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, and
of which no inconsiderable frao-meuts remain.

If we compare Musonius with Cicero, or even
with Seneca, we are immediately struck with the
great change which in the interval has been affected
in the mode of treating philosophy among the
Romans. If in the time of Cicero it was cultivated
partly as an accomplishment of the man of the
world, partly as a want of man generally as a com-
fort in the storms of life, in Musonius it has already
assumed the form of a mere wisdom of the schools.
It is true that Musonius pretended to form men not
for the school, but for life ; yet what Musonius
understood by this, was merely the life of a philo-
sopher, who, in order to gain a maintenance, may
indeed occupy himself with other aftairs, but yet
with such only as will allow him leisure and oppor-
tunity for studying and teaching philosophy.'^ To
this pursuit he exhorts all men with all his powers,
but the young particularly, and even the female sex,
because without pliilosophy no one can be virtuous
and fulfil his duties." To a king of Syria, who
frequented his school, he strives by every means to
demonstrate that philosophy which he had pre-
viously neglected was indispensable for the right
conduct of his affairs, and among other arguments
he particularly insists upon this, that pliilosophy is
a better teacher of eloquence than rhetoric.'" All

'" Stob. Scrm. Ivi. Ifi. ^eivov yup av tovto Ttfi ovri yv, tintfi tKuXviv
t) Ipyaaia rijc yF/Q <l>i\ofTo<f>tiv 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<TO(pov tivai tuvtSv iariv.

^ lb. Ivi. 18, Tt ^e to kuiXvov icrri icai ipyai^oiitvov /leTo. rov SiSa-
(TKoXov Tov fiaQfjTrjv clkoveiv ti ci/ia Trtpi auxppocvvqq rj SiKawavvqQ ri
KupTepiag Xeyovrog ',

»i lb. Ixxix. 51.

** L. I. fin. Kai ovts rpifioiva irdvrwg afiirBxicQcu dii]aei at, ovti
ax'iTiova Siarektiv, oiiSt KOfiav, ovS' f.K(3aivtiv to koivuv tuiv iroWdv.
TTpiTTti y.(v yap Kai tuvtu Toig (pi\o<j6(j)Oig • aW ouk iv TOVTOig tu
(lii\ocro(pi1v iaTiv, d\X' iv Tip (ppoviTv H xf'V 1^0.1^ SiavotlaGai.

STOICS. L. MUSONIUS RUFUS. 191

corruption of the human mind. His general man-
ner has been portrayed to us in a single trait by
Tacitus, better than by all the maxims recorded by
his credulous disciple. When the parley was held
before the city between the part}^ of Vitellius and
the army of Vespasian, we are told by the historian
that the philosopher visited with the agent of Vitel-
lius the hostile camp, and mingling among the
angry soldiery began to speak to them of the bless-
ings of peace and the perils of war. Naturally
enough, such exhortations met with no favour.
Being received with mockery and threatened with
rough treatment, the philosopher was forced to
desist from his unseasonable display of wisdom. ^^

In other respects the doctrines attributed to
Musonius greatly resembled those which Xenophon
has put into the mouth of Socrates not only in his
Memorabilia, but also in the Symposium and the
(Economics. The philosophy which he recommended
was a very simple doctrine, consisting entirely of
rules for the conduct of life. Far removed from
that admiration of logic or dialectic which animated
the older Stoics, he required for philosophy neither
fulness, nor accuracy, nor clearness of language ;
but, he said, all knowledge ought to be serviceable to

•^ Tact. Hist. iii. Rl. Intempestivam sapicntiam. Tacitus, although favour-
ing a stem philosopliy, not unfrcquently dissents from the favourable judgment
of [)hilo8ophcr8 of his day, wliich the prejudices of their fellows have led them
to pass upon them. On the occ^ision of his nicntitniing the action of Muso-
nius, which gave him the greatest applause — his nctusjition of Pul)Iiu8 Celer,
also a .Stoic, — Tacitus gives up to understand that it was not the philosophers,
but the leading senators, that played the principal part in tiiis ailiiir. Hist. iv.
10, c. not. Lips. On the same occasion he severely censures, lb. 40, the Cynic
Demetrius, who defends Celer, whom, however, Seneca could liardly praiee
sufficiently.

192 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

action. ^^ It is true he does not, in that unscientific
spirit which is so blaraeable in Seneca, entirely
reject dialectical investigations, but on the contrary
regards it as a proof of a weak mind to decline to
examine the fallacy which perplexes it ; ^^ yet at the
same time he expresses his disgust at the multitude
of dogmas wherewith the Sophists fed their own
vanity.^*^ But as he paid little value to logic, so he
seems to have given but slight attention to the
physical doctrines of the Stoics. Very little belong-
ing to this field of inquiry is touched upon at all by
him. And this, for the most part, relates to the
doctrine of the gods in which he ordinarily follows
the practice of the Stoics, and adopts the national
religion,^'^ and even speaks of the nurture which
the gods derive from the vapours of the earth and
water.^^ His views, however, occasionally rise a
little higher, and he asserts that the gods know all
things without need of reasoning, since to them
nothing can be obscure or unknown. ^^ Connected
herewith are his views of the soul of man, which he
considers to be akin to the gods' ; but yet at the

** Stob. Serm. App. p. 418 (55), 427 (65). 'AWd kuI offovg /Mtraxit-
pO^ovrai Xoyovg, twv ipywv <pt]fil de7v 'ivtKa /xeTaxtipi^taOai avrovg.

"' Arriau. Diss. Epict. i. 7, p. 46, Upton.

"" Stob. Serm. Ivi. 18. IloWCiv fiiv ydp Xoyoiv ov Ssi ToZg (piXoaoipf]-
aovci KoKwg, ovSs rbv oxXov tovtwv twv OiwpnfiaTiiiv avaXriTTTkov
vdvrwg roig veoig, if' i^ fvatofiivovg rovg aofKrrdg opwfitv.

*^ lb. Ixvii. 20; Ixxix. 51; Ixxxv. 20, fin. I will take advantage of this
opportunity to mention that a grammarian and rhetorician of this time, L.
Annseus Cornutus, also gave an interpretation of mythology in the spirit of
the Stoical philosophy. This work, written in Greek, is still extant, under the
erroneous name of Phornutus. Th. Gale Opusc. Myth. Phys. et Eth. p. 139,
sqq. In it most of the physical doctrines of the Stoics are hinted at, but no
more. It contains, however, nothing in any way useful to our purpose.

^ lb. xvii. 43. *' lb. App. p. 420 (57).

STOICS. L. MUSONIUS RUFUS. 193

same time he agrees with his sect, in supposing it
to be a body, which after being corrupted by cor-
poreal influence, may be again purified and
cleansed. ^^ But the liberty of the rational soul
(^mvota) is strongly asserted b}^ him in a manner
utterly opposed to the Stoical principle, for he
makes the reason to be wholly free from necessity .^^
But these opinions are but occasional remarks ; his
views as otherwise expressed excite a doubt whether
he ever bestowed any especial attention on logic and
physics ; for he held that philosophy is nothing else
than an investigation and practice of what is becom-
ing and obligatory ; ^^ and philosophy, he sa3'S, is
merely the pursuit of a virtuous life.^^

His rules of conduct are far removed from most
of the extravagancies of the Stoics. It is only from
the extreme view, that philosophy is the only sure
road to virtue, that he cannot emancipate himself;
and on this account he requires of all, both men
and women, that they should cultivate it. On the
other hand, virtue does not stand so hioh with him
as with the ancient Stoics, who ascribed her to the
sage alone, whose existence, however, among the
sons of men tliey were disposed to question. The
doubts which such a view gave rise to among men
of the world, of the reality of virtue, Musonius

«> lb. xvii. 1.3.

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<i» fxiv uvu'^tjtiTv, tpyqi Si irpuTTiiv.
C;f. A pp. p. 425 (0.3).

lb. App. [1. 419 (.lo). *E7rti(5;) Kai <pt\oao<j)itt KuXoKay nOiai, tffrij/
imrriiivinz khI oiiSiv f.rfpov.

IV. o

194 PKACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

sought to remove by the remark, that it is only
from seeing' virtuous men that we form the notion
of virtue. ^^ In the same spirit he does not stretch
to its usual extreme the requisition of the Stoics,
that man should live agreeably to nature; on the
contrary, he agrees vfiih Seneca in considering it as
easy to follow one's own nature, ^'^ and the only great
impediment which he can find to a truly moral life
is, the prejudices with which the mind is filled from
childhood, and the evil habits confirmed by prac-
tice.^^ On this account he regards philosophy as a
mental art of healing, and lays a greater stress than
the older Stoics did on the practice of virtue, with-
out however adopting the view of the Peripatetics,
who insisted that practice must precede knowledge.
On the contrary, while he insists that instruction in
the nature of good is indispensable, he is so far
from ascribing to the knowledge of good, unassisted
by practice, sufiicient power to lead man to virtue,
that he lays greater stress on practice than on pre-
cept. ^'^ He distinguishes two kinds of practice ; the
exercise of the mind in reflection and the adoption

'* lb. cxvii. 8. Kai firjv ovk aSvvaTov yevicrOai roiovrov avOpwTTOv
oil yap irepwOkv ttoQiv ravrag iirtvoijffat tclq aperag ixofiiv ri air'
ahrriQ Tt]Q dvOpwTreiag (j)V(jewg, ivrvxovTeg a.v9f)wiroig toIq Sk riffiv,
o'iovQ ovTag avrovg Oeiovg nai Oeoeiotlg wvofia^ov.

«= L. 1.

'^ lb. xxix. 78. Oi It (piKocso<ptlv iTrixiipovvrtg iv dia<p9op^ ytytvrj-
fikvoi ■KpoTipov TToWy Kai iinrtTrXtia/ikvoi KUKiag, ovrw /liriaffi rriv
apirrfv, iiffrt Kai Tavry TrXtiovog SsrjOrjvai Trjg affKTjcreug,

" L. 1.; ib. App. p. 387 (17J. ^vvepytl fikv yap Kai ry Trpa^n 6
Xoyog SiMiTKiiJV, ottwc Trpa/crsov, Kai tan ry ra^ii (e Conj. Wyttenb.;
Codd. irpa^ti) irpoTtpog rov iQovg' ov yap tOicS'ijj/at ri KaXbv olov rt fit}
Kara \6yov iQiKofiivov Svvdfiti fikvTOi to t9og Trportptl rov Xoyov,
OTi (STi KVpiwrtpov £7rt Tag TrpdXtig dytiv tov dvQpwKov rjirtp 6 Xoyog.

STOICS, L. MUSONIUS RUFUS. 195

of good rules of life, and the endurance of corporeal
pains which affect both the soul and the body.^^

The sum of the several rules of life given by
Musonius may be briefly comprised in this, — that a
life according to nature consists in social, friendly
sentiments and temper, and in contentmentwith what
will simply alleviate the first wants of nature. The
social and friendly character of his sentiments is
seen in this, that he combats all selfishness, and
regards marriage not merely as the only becoming
and natural gratification of the passions, but looks
upon it as the principle of the family and state, and
the preservation of the whole human race.''^ Accord-
ingly, he zealously protests against the exposure of
children as an unnatural custom, ^°^ and seizes every
opportunity to recommend the practice of benevo-
lence.^"^ His precepts to be observed for a simple life
enter into great particularity of details, in which he
gives nice regulations for diet, the care of the body,
clothing, and furniture. ^°^ These precepts are not
without their singularity. Thus he recommends
that the hair should be allowed to grow long and
not cut too close ; and the beard he had in honour,
on the ground that the hair was given us by nature
for the covering of the bod}'. Like the modern
Pythagoreans, he forbids all animal food, and pre-
fers the aliments which are furnished and oftercd by
nature sufficiently dressed to those which require
the aid of art and cooking.^"^ Such precepts serve,

'" lb. xxix 7R. *" lb. vi, 61 ; Ixvii. 20.

»■» lb. Ixxv. 1.5; Ixxxiv. 21. '" E.g. ib. i. 84.

"** lb. i. (M; vi. 62; xvii. 43; Ixxxv.20, '"» Ib. vi. C2; xvii. 4?-.

o 2

196 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

at. least, to show the diversified applications of which
the vague term " agreeable to nature " admits.

If the Stoics, whom we have just noticed,
possessed at most but moderate talents, we must
concede to Epictetus, the disciple of Musonius,
profounder ideas, and a more complete and regular
system. Even in these times the superiority in
point of science is still on the side of the Greeks.
Epictetus, whose name is justly eminent among the
Stoics, was born at Hieropolis of Phrygia, a slave of
Epaphroditus one of the freedmen of Nero, whom in
his writings Epictetus described as a courtier and
flatterer.^'^^ How Epictetus acquired his liberty is
unknown. He lived a considerable time at Rome
and attached himself as a disciple to Musonius
Rufus, but was probably a hearer also of another
Stoic, Euphrates by name.^°^ When, however, the
philosophers were banished Rome by Domitian, he
removed to Nicopolis in Epirus, where he taught
philosoph)'. The nature of his instructions has
been recorded by his scholar, Arrian, in the same
manner that Xenophon has given us the doctrines
of Socrates. The lessons, of which Arrian gives
the subject-matter, do not date before the time of
Trajan/"^ when Epictetus must have been far
advanced in years, and it is therefore improbable
that he returned to Rome in the reign of Hadrian. ^'^^
He was poor and lame, but bore his lot with Stoical

"* Arrian. Diss. Epict. i. 19, p. 107, Upton.

^"^ He mentions this individual with very distinguished respect. Arrian.
Diss. iv. 8, p. 63G. Rufus is frequently mentioned by him as his teacher.
Diss. i. 1, p. 10; 7, p. 46; 9, fin.; iii. (i, 15, fin.

1°' Diss. iv. 5, p. 602.

^°^ This it has been sought to infer from Spaitian. Iladr. IG, sq.

STOICS. EPICTETUS. 197

fortitucle,^"^ and is in general painted as furnishing
a model of a wise life.^°^ As he did not leave be-
hind him any philosophical treatise, we are indebted
for all that we know of him to Arrian, who not only
published a long work compiled from his notes of
the lectures of Epictetus/^" but also gave a brief
compendium of the principal maxims of his teacher,
which is known under the title of the Enchiridion
or Manual of Epictetus.^^^

The designation of Stoic which is usually given
to Epictetus is justified by the fact that in the
general notions which form the groundwork of his
moral theory, he attaches himself to the Stoical
school, and that, for the most part, he employs its
technical language. But this Stoical element forms
not the essence of his doctrine, and it is even far from
free from all intermixture with other doctrines whicii
he apparently held in equal esteem. He shows a dis-
position for Eclecticism which cannot be mistaken.
Socrates and Diooenes are esteemed bv him not
less than Zeno:'^'"^ all these he says played well the

*"* The story that he was lamed by the severity of his master (Orig.
c, Cels. vii. c. 7). finds some confirmation from Arrian. Diss. i. 12, p. 76; 19,
p. 105. But a different cause is likewise assigned for his lameness. SimjilL
cius, in his commentary on the Enchiridion of Epictetus, 9, j). 102, Ileins., says
that he was of a weakly constitution and lame from his youth.

•"'■' For the life of Epictetus, cf. Suid. 8. V. 'ETTDcrr/roc- Gell. ii. Ifi; xv. 11.

"" These are the Atarp(/3at rov 'EniKTrirov, of which fiuir hooks are
still extant.

'" Simpl. ill Epict. Enchir. Praef. The relation which the Manual hore to
the Diatriha; cannot be accurately determined, since the latter no loiij{er exist
in completeness. The siime is probably the case with the Manual, since many
maxims are quoted as from it, which arc not now to be found in it. The two
works follow a different order, or rather disorder, but they agree occasionally with
eacli other, word for word.

'" Diss. iii. 21, p. III.

198 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

parts that they had severally to play ; they ought to
serve as an example to us. Plato also is reverenced
by him as a model for philosophers, and his opinions
are frequently adopted, especially such as originally
propounded by Socrates were first set in their full
light by Plato. Thus Epictetus maintains that the
foundation of all philosophy is self-knowledge, that
is, the conviction of man's ignorance and weakness
when measured by the standard of good, which is
the idea of God ; and God, therefore, whose essence
is goodness, ought to be the first subject of instruc-
tion. ^^^ At the same time he remarks, that all in-
struction must set out with an understanding of the
term — the notion, ^^'* and he looks upon hypotheses
as steps to knowledge. ^^^ Perfectly in the spirit of
Socrates and Plato, but somewhat inconsistently
with the principles of his sect, he claims compassion
for the vicious, on the ground that it is through
ignorance alone that they do evil.^^^ We might
still swell the number of such quotations, were it
not clear from the whole tenor of his doctrine rather
than from any detached opinions that he had ap-
plied with a real love to the study of the Platonic
philosophy. It is only for Epicurus, the New
Academy, and the Pyrrhonists that he evinces an
aversion, and these he seeks to refute by a few
simple remarks. They even who contradict the
truth maintain its reality, and this simply is the
best refutation of such objectors. Whoever denies
that there is a universal truth advances this ver

"3 lb. ii. 8, 11, 14, p. 243. "* Ib.i. 17; ii. 14, p. 244.

"^ lb. i. 17, p. 44. "« lb. i. 18, 28 ■ ii. 22, fin.

STOICS. EPICTETUS. 199

denial as a universal truth. Although Epicurus held
that there is no fellow feeling or sympathy between
man and man, we yet find him refuting himself by
teaching others, and thereby seeking communion
Avith them. To the Sceptics he objects that it is im-
possible to be guided entirely by custom or by cir-
cumstances. ^^^ On the other hand he avows a decided
predilection for the Cynical habits of life, and in the
sketch that he gives of a Cynic he is manifestly de-
lineating his own ideal of a manly and blameless
character. The genuine Cynic is given by God to
the rest of mankind as an example.^^^ He admits,
indeed, that all cannot lead a Cynical life ; it is only
strong minds that can elevate themselves to the
height of such a model. ^^^ After this encomium of
the Cynical life it cannot be wondered that Epicte-
tus should occasionally have been classed with the
Cynics, and he himself would not perhaps have
refused this title if he had not extended his view
of philosophy to a wider range than either the
Cynical or Stoical schools.

In one respect, however, the philosophy of Epicte-
tus does not go beyond the range of the Cynical
doctrine of his age. He is so far from refusing to
imitate them in giving an undue preponderance to
Ethics over the other parts of philosophy, that we
find him adhering to the direction which all the other
Stoics were pursuing. He does not, indeed, consider
logical investigations to be wholly useless, but, with
his master Musonius he represents it even as a duty
of the pliilosopher to solve the fallacies which present

'" It), i. .5. -J/, 2»; ii. '-''i. "» lb. iv. H, p. (i40.

'" 111. iii. '12.

200 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

a difficulty. ^^° But, at the same time, he makes them
subordinate to practical purposes, and a useful instru-
ment for ethics. At times, indeed, he seems to
look upon the solution of sophistical arguments as a
matter for which man was not made,^^^ and to class
them among those questions which it is not in his
nature to solve, and in which he ought to con-
fess his ignorance as readily as he would his ina-
bility to number the stars of heaven ; but still he
does not mean by these propositions absolutely to
deny the importance of such questions ; they have
their use in all cases where they admit of being
employed. ^^^ Hence arises, according to Epictetus,
the duty of pursuing logical investigations. The
gift of clear language must be esteemed as a gift of
the gods ; men ought to seek to improve it, and not
be idle or remiss in the work from any fear of the
difficulties which it may present. Only it must not
be regarded, as it is by Dialecticians, as the end of
existence ;^^^ it is only as a means that it has any
value; it is subservient to reasoning, and to the dis-
tinguishing between true and false arguments. ^^^
But it is not merely in this sense alone that he
wishes logic to be cultivated ; he also assigns to it
another office, that of affording proof of valid
reasoning, and certainty in judgment. ^^'^ But with
all this, he does not forget to exhibit in the strongest
light the subordination of logic to practical ends.
The first and most necessary part of philosophy
respects the application of doctrine, for example,

125 lb. i. 7, p. 46. ^^^ lb. ii. 19. i-* lb. ii. 21, p. 308.

i==3 lb. ii. 23. ^2* lb. i. 4; ii. 12. 2.-,.

^* 11-. iii. 2; MaimaU-, 52 Schweigh. (.51 Upt.)

STOICS. EPICTETUS. 201

that man should not lie ; the second is conversant
about reasons, e. g. why man should not lie ; wliile
the third, lastly, examines and establishes the
reasons. This is the logical part which finds reasons,
shows what is a reason, and that a given reason is a
right one. This last pai-t is necessary, but only on
account of the second, which again is rendered
necessary by the first.^^*^ It is manifest that thi&
division is devoid of value in a scientific point of
view, and generally we must confess that the
weakest part of the system of Epictetus is its scien-
tific form, which, however, is such as strikingly to
attest the character of the man. With him philo-
sophy is, in its end at least, a wisdom of life ; all else
in it is merely a means. He is, we occasionally see,
fully aware that in the rational life scientific inves-
tigation may have its determinate place and obliga-
tion ; he bursts out with the demand. What can be
better for a man than to sing the praises of God ?
If I were a nightingale I would do it as the night-
ingale. What can I, a lame old man, do better
than to pour forth such a song of praise in behalf of
all mankind ?'^^ God made man to contemplate
and to explain himself, and the order and design of
his works. ^^^ But now we may ask, why does not

'* Man. 1. 1. 'O irpCJTog icai dvayKaioraTog roiroc ierriv iv (piXoaofjiiif
o rrjs xpfjanug rutv Otoipijfjiariijv olov rb fir) ^tvSeaOaf 6 Stvrtpog 6
Tuv ('fjro^tiKtoJv • olov, ttoOiv on ov fii Tptv^taOaij rpiroc o avrdv

TUVTIilV ftfftulOlTlKOC Kdi (KipOpiilTlKl'tQ- oloV, TToUtV OTl TOVTO UlTl'l^ei^ti; J

Tt yap tirriv uiroStiKig ; ri uKoXovOia ; t'i fidxil ; ri d\i]0(<: ; ri \ptvSoQ ;
ovKov vo fxiv TpiTctf; TOTTOi' dvayKUiof; Cid rov Ctvripov, o ?i ^lirepoc Siu
TOV TTpOtTOV. I'ii*** i. 4. 7.

'" bisB. i. 1(1.

"" lb. i. G. Tov dvOpwTTOv Otan)v tlaliyayiv avToxi rt Kai twv Ipywv

TWV (li'TOV- Kul oil flilVOV OldTr)!', flAXd Kdi kS.liyllT'lV (II'THJP.

202 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

Epictetiis apply himself more industriously to this
task? Why is he content with merely giving a
very general representation of the order of nature,
and of the intelligence which she displays in all her
providential developments ? Their reason was un-
deniably this, that he esteemed something more
highly than this scientific contemplation, and that
was the duteous regulation of human actions in the
world in which man is placed, and of his feelings
towards himself and towards others. Therefore he
teaches that every philosophy must realize itself in
deeds ; and as sheep show by the quality of their
milk and fleece, that they have properly digested
their fodder, so the philosopher shows by his works
that he has well digested the principles of his
science.^^^ Accordingly he sets little value on the
scientific culture which logic received at the hands
of Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics ; he objects to the
logicians of his day that they are unable to apply it
to the improvement of the populace, and that it had
become a mere science for the learned of the school.
He holds up for imitation the example of Socrates,
who was able to lead every one to the application of
the rules of logic. ^^'^

The foregoing remarks have probably given rise
to an expectation, that Epictetus would naturally
look upon physics in no other light than as a means
to ethics. It is, however, surprising that he should
never mention it as a special part of philosophy, but
should class all its investigations with those of ethics.
If we assume that the division above given is in-

"'' .Man. Ui; Diss, i 1. ■ '^^ Diss. ii. 12.

STOICS. EPICTETUS. !i^03

tended to represent the old division of pbilosopliy,
then to physics would fall the duty of furnisliing
the reasons of particular actions. And this, indeed,
would not ill-assort with the Stoical principle, that
the moral obligations of life ought to be regulated
by the law of nature. For such a principle would
naturally give rise to an attempt to determine what
the law of nature exacts in general, and what it
prescribes to men in particular. To this attempt
Epictetus frequently returns, yet we cannot say
that he has limited the domain of physics simply
to this. He might well have accorded to it a more
important rank, after he had acknowledged the
study of nature to be the worthiest occupation of
the sage. Yet all the doctrines delivered in his
discourses which, agreeably to the Stoical division
of philosophy, must be referred to physics, those
for instance, which regard the divine nature and
the constitution of the universe, the nature of
man and his limbs, are treated throughout in an
exclusive reference to ethics. That they did not
possess more than a very subordinate interest in
his mind, is most clearly seen from his method of
treating them as doctrines already perfect, and of
adopting, without further investigating them, the
opinions of the Stoics or other pliilosophers. Of his
physical tenets, therefore, there is little worth men-
tioning, and this can be incidentally noticed in our
review of his ethical doctrines.

The peculiar characteristic of the moral theory
of Epictetus, which makes it at once imj)ressive
and instructive, and procures for it the love and
admiration «)f' many, is its simplicity, tlif grandeur

204 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

of the sentiments on which it is founded, and the
rio-onr of consequence which to a certain point it
maintains. Its simplicity is most evident in the
short Manual, which has therefore always been a
greater favourite than the larger treatises of Arrian.
We shall hereafter be able to explain, how it was
that the doctrine of Epictetus did not admit of a
more detailed exposition, without weakening itself
by manifold repetitions.

Both works begin, not inappropriately, by a dis-
tinction between what is, and what is not, in the
power of man. According to Epictetus, that alone
is in man's power, which is his own work ; and in
this class he reckons his opinions, his impulses, his
desires, and his aversions. What, on the contrary,
is not in the power of man, are his body, his pos-
sessions, glory, and power. Any delusion on this
point leads to the greatest errors, misfortunes, and
troubles, and to the slavery of the soul.^^^ Thus
does Epictetus at once maintain and limit the
notion of human liberty. He maintains it so
firmly as to build upon it his whole doctrine.
Even Jupiter hin.self cannot conquer the will of
man, for he would never wish to do so.^^^ If God
had subjected to necessity that part of his own
essence, which he took from himself and gave to
man, he would not be God, and would not have
had due care for man.^^^ But he also limits the idea

'^' Man. 1. Twv ovtwv tu fikv tariv t<p' Vfuv, ra S' oii/c s0' r/^Tv. 60' Jj/itJ/
fiiv vTToMiiiQ, opuv, opi'iiQ, "iKKXiaiQ Kai. tvl Xoyv oaa r)ii£Ttpa tpya, ovk
If qfilv di TO awfia, y) Kr^fftg, ^o?ai, apxai kcu (vl Xoytpoffa ovx vnirtpa
tpya. Diss. i. 1.

"^ Diss. i. 1, p. 10 ; iii. 3, p. 3G5.

^'^' lb. i. 17, p. 06. VA yap to Uiov jxtpog, o ///uv tco)Ktv dTroffrraffof a

STOICS. EPICTETUS. 205

of human freedom, by refusing to admit, tliat man
has power over anything beyond himself, his concep-
tions, and the direction of them. The ruling idea of
his whole theory is, that in this world man is as it
were a spectator — an observer of God and his works,
and an expounder of them, but nothing more.^^*
This is the part which man has to play in the world,
and more than this he ought not to desire ; and
by so limiting his desires, he will best preserve
his liberty. To desire more, would be to become
a discontented observer of the works of God.^^'^
But were the gods unwilling to grant more to man ?
No, for they would assuredly have done more,
if it had been in their power. For as we exist on
the earth, and are bound to the body as an assistant
in all our work, it is impossible that we should not
be impeded in our activity by these external
things. ^^^ Epictetus accordingly adheres strictly
to his own idea of reason, which to his mind ex-
pressed nothing more than the faculty of using or
appl3ing ideas.^^^ Man has power over his ideas,
all else is beyond his control.

^lOQ, wtt' avTov Tf vtt' aWof rivbg ku)\vt6v »; di/ayKaarbv KartaKtvaKti,
ovKiTi av ^vStof, ovt" iirtfitXtiTo tifiCtv, ov Set rpoTTOv.

"* Ih. i. G, p. 35. Tov S' uv^pujTrov 3rsari)v ti(Tt)yaytv aiirov Tt Kai rHv
ipyiov Tuip avTov, kui ov fiitvov ^iart)v, aWd icai i£,t]yr)T))v aiirwv. fiiA
rovTO aiaxpov tTn np dv^ptoTrn> 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-
<puvov luKayuyi/v tij (pvrtn.

^*'^ lb. iv. 1, p. .<;.■.».

"'' lb. i. I , p. 7. 'Apfi y£ iln oiik i/OtXov ; ty(o fiiv SoKio, on ei r)SvvavTo
KUKi'iva dv r'liiiv inirpi^av. dXXu vavruitj ovk rfCvvavro. iiri yr/f ydp
ovTUQ Kai (Twfiari rrvvCideixEvovg roiovrift Kai Koivtovoic rotovroig, iruig olov
T J\v n't ravTu virb twv Urbg fii) IfinoSiltaQai ;

lb. i. 1. 'II ;^()>;(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 <popT]T6i>.

"' 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<p' t)fiiv'
t(j>' r)iuv fiiv irpoaipiaiQ Kai iravTu rd TvpoaiptTiKa tpya, ovk i<p' rjfuv
Si TO awfia, rd n'ipr] tou cw^iarog, Kivyaiig, yovtlg, dSt\(l>oi, 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.<ri]i', r.r.X.

STOICS. M. AURELIUS ANTONINUS. 221

demeanor towards others ; but he also insists in
general, on the principle that no man should judge
his fellow, on the ground that internal motives,
which constitute the morality of all actions — prin-
ciples, that is — are difficult to be discovered. ^^^ Not
only does he recommend patient endurance of the
scorn of men,^^^ but he likewise insists on humility
of thought towards God. Banish, he says, all high-
minded ness. All the good which thou possessest,
and all that thou knowest, was given thee by God
alone. Your position in the world is assigned you
by him. Everything, in short, is the gift of God.^^^
These reflections which pervade his whole doctrine,
absolutely forbid anything like haughtiness or
pride.

The principles of Epictetus had a very great in-
fluence on the sentiments of many of his contem-
poraries, and also on later generations. Whatever
of a Stoical character is to be found in the moral
doctrine of succeeding times, emanates from him,
and is at most, but the echo of his sentiments and
opinions. In this light we have to regard the phi-
losophy of the emperor M. Aurelius Antoninus.
In the brief maxims contained in his work ' To My-
self,' he gratefully acknowledged the advantage of
having been made acquainted, by his teacher Rus-
ticus, witli the doctrines of Epictetus,^^^ and whose
earlier j^rcccpts his own closely resemble, with this

"« Man. 33, 42 ; Diis, iv. fj. "i Man. IIJ.

Man. 2"2, Sti St 6<p()i<v (liv ftf) axyC tGiv c't ISiXriarwv aoi (jtaivofi'tvuiv
o\>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<p' aifiuTO^, lib. 33.

®"^ X. 33. 'SovQ Sk Kat XoyoQ cm Travrbq tov avTiTrinToprog ovTwg noptve-
(j9ai Svvarai, uig 7re<pVKe Kai wf SrkXei.

^ 11.17.

*°^ He usually expresses himself ambiguously on the immortality of the
suul. The assertion in the text rests on iv. 21,

STOICS. M. AURELIUS ANTONINUS. 225

Stoical ethics, as widely deviating from the scien-
tific direction of the old Porch, we must remember,
on the other hand, that it compensated for this
fault, in some degree, by its more religious character.
Out of the latter arose that love in which it com-
prised the whole external world, at the very time
that it thought it necessary entirely to withdraw
from it. Nevertheless, it was by internal medita-
tions that it most loved to feed this religious senti-
ment. And Antoninus invokes the inner demon,
the reason, the god within us, still more frequently
than Epictetus.^*^^

The predominant tendency of this mode of think-
ing, is to effect a separation of the individual from
the general — a life of seclusion. There is un-
doubtedly a point in the religious sentiment which
grew out of it, which was calculated to unite again
the particular and the general — internal contempla-
tion and active life. For as it supposes that our
part in the world is assigned us by the universal,
divine nature, of which we partake, it accordingly
looks upon the conscientious discharge of it as the
duty of man ; but at the same time it is manifest
that in fVict, an idea was thus introduced into the
doctrine which did not admit of being reconciled
witli its direct tendency, which was to concentrate
the soul wholly on itself. For as, agreeably with
this tendency, the soul is painted as an essence
which cannot be disturbed in its proper pursuit by

^ Cf. ii. 13 ; iii. 3,G, 7, 12, ICi ; v. 27 ; xii. 3, 19, 2G. Bach, ibid. p.
34, n. 99, considers the demonology of the Stoics to be perfectly agreeable
with the ancient faith of the Greeks. It differs, however, fronn it in this essen-
tial point, that the former refers to demons within and not without men, and
which are not distinguishable from the human soul.

IV. Q

226 PRACTICAL TENDENCY OF PHILOSOPHY.

outward things, and also as devoid of all power over
them, what can it have in common with the life of
others ? what service can it rendert hem ? Thus
then their religious sentiment also reduces itself to
the view, that it is the wisdom of man to allow nature
to proceed in its own course, convinced that all is
good as it is arranged by divine providence. The
wish would be impious, even if we had the power,
to interfere in these arrangements.

It is of great importance for the march of our
history, to call attention to the manner in which
this religious sentiment brought the new Stoics
nearer to the Grseco-Oriental philosophy. It pre-
pared the way for the spread of neo-Platonism, by
representing the withdrawing from all pollution
by the outer world as the road to union with the
divine, and by requiring, as the neo-Platonists also
did, severe practice of virtue as a means of attaining
to peace of mind in the first instance, and then to
the contemplation of the divinity within man. Thus
Antoninus requires man to simplify himself, wherein
he agrees with the neo-Platonists even in language. ^°°
But undoubtedly the Stoics do not as yet exhibit
a perfect accordance with the neo-Platonists, and
on two points especially we discover an essential
difference between them. The first is, that they
evince but little attachment to the old religion and
for the superstitious observance of its outward cere-
monies, which, if they do not directly attack, they
at most but barely tolerate. Its religious sentiment
has the character of the devoutness of a separating
sect, and it also exhibits itself in a strong opposition

205 jy_ 2Q, "AttXwcfov (Jiavrov.

STOICS. M. AURELIUS ANTONINUS. 227

to the ideas of the common people. It has given a
pecuhar tone to their phraseology, which in gentle-
wise extenuates whatever to the general conception
appears important ; and employs diminutives to
excess, in order to convey its contempt for property,
arts, the soul, and other like matters. The second
point of difference between these Stoics and the
neo-Platonists is, that the former are wholly indis-
posed to philosophical investigations into the nature
of things, and to everything which has not some
immediate reference to the practical ; the theoretical
is regarded merely as a means to the practical ;
while the Platonists reversed the relation of the two,
and enthusiastically revived the old theoretical
investigations. This, as well as the recurrence to
the old national religions, gave great influence to
the neo-Platonists in their attempt to defend the
worth and merit of the olden nationality, against
the hostile encroachments of the Christian religion.
After Antoninus we meet with no Stoic of a
practical tendency who was of any great consider-
ation. The chief and most important portions of
their moral theory passed over to the neo-Plato-
nists. That the latter did not neglect the maxims
of Epictetus is fully proved by the accounts which
Siniplicius has given of the neo-Platonists ; and it
would not be difficult to adduce ample })roof in
detail to the same effect.^'^'^

**« I shall merely mention the maxims of Porjjhyry in his letter to Markella,
the recommendation of Pythagorean dogmas of a like nature, and Theosebiua,
on whom Suid. 8. v.'E7r.'/cr»j7-oc, vel Phot. bibl. c. 242, p. .'J3f>, 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 <pi\6(ro<poi.

LEARNED STOICS. AREIUS DIDYMUS. 229

by the polemic of the Peripatetics, Sceptics, and
even of the neo-Platonists against the old Porch. Of
this mere erudite branch of the Stoical school scarcely
any notice has reached us, but fortunatel}^ the loss
may easily be borne. The Basilides, who is men-
tioned among the teachers of Marcus Antoninus,
and of whose doctrines an account is given by Sextus
Empiricus,^ may probably have belonged to it.

We possess more complete information of the
activity of the Platonic and Peripatetic schools
of this date. These were unquestionably more
considerable, as they had an important task to per-
form. The chief feature and the peculiarit37^ of the
Stoical system and method, had never fallen into
such complete oblivion as at one time overwhelmed
the true subject-matter and form both of the Platonic
and the Aristotelian philosophy. In order to
gain a sure footing on which they might withstand
the pressure of a new doctrine and a new direction
of life, the Academicians and Peripatetics had
either undesignedly or else consciously disguised or
disfigured themselves. What was required, there-
fore, was nothing less than a restoration of these
doctrines — these old forms of scientific thought.
But undertakings of this kind are never perfectly
successful, they invariably end in a modification of
the old.

The earliest attempt to restore the Platonic
j)hilosophy probably belongs to the time when the
Romans were turning their attention to the older
literature of Greece. The Academician Arcius
Didymus, who wrote on the doctrines of Plato and

^ Adv. Math. viii. 258.

230 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

other Grecian philosophers, does not perhaps date
much later. ^ It was now that the Platonic Dialogues
were first arranged and divided, for convenience of
reference in the teaching of philosophy — on which
subject many different opinions are yet extant.*
What we know of the labours of this Platonic
school, of the division of the Dialogues into tetra-
logies (which is perhaps to be ascribed to Thrasyllus
of the time of Tiberius, or else to Dercyllides,
which is contained in the introduction of Albinus,
and the short compendium of the Platonic doctrine
which is usually assigned to one Alcinous), excites
in us no very high opinion of their philosophical
enlightenment. And if we find a little more of
mental fertility in the philosophical treatises of
Maximus Tyrius, who flourished under the Anto-
nines, even these are not so much proofs of thorough
philosophical intelligence, as of certain rhetorical
dexterity formed by the study and imitation of the
ancients.

If in this school of the Platonists we were to
look for a pure and fundamental transmission of
the Platonic doctrine, we should expect what was
beyond the power of this age to furnish. Yet a
breath at least of the Platonic spirit blows upon us,
when Maximus Tyrius bids us look for a know-
ledge of God in the multiplicity of the shape of
the beautiful, to whose pure and simple forms,
divested of all matter, we have but to recur, in

^ Euseb. Pr. Ev. xi, 23; Suid. s. v. AiSvfiog. Cf. Jons, de Script. Hist.
Phil. iii. 1 , 3. This Areius Didymus was of great use to later writers, as we
see from Eusebius, ib. compared with Alcinous (de Doctr. Plat. c. 1 2).

* Albini Isag. G; Diog. L. iii. 49, sqq. The Alexandrian philologists, and
especially Aristophanes, had undoubtedly preceded them in this course.

LEARNED STOICS. MAXIMUS TYRIUS. 231

order to behold the divine.^ And the same spirit
breathes in the declaration of Alcinous, that God
in and bv himself cannot be known, that his essence
is inexpressible, and that therefore we must simply
strive by negation or analogy, or by rising from the
lowest to the highest, to exhibit the transcendent
idea of God ; in which attempt the mathematical
sciences are steps in the ascent to a knowledge of
ideas. ^ In truth these reminiscences of the Pla-
tonic theory are but weak ; yet, on the whole, they
appear to have preserved a mild and serene view of
things in the Academic school. The same spirit
is distinctly traceable in the view that the worship
of images and sanctuaries is not necessarj', indeed,
for those who possess a sufficient remembrance of the
once enjoyed view of the divine; yet that such per-
sons are very few, and hence the custom common to
all nations, to worship the divinity under different
forms. In these customs, as derived from long an-
tiquity, no change ought to be made ; the images of
the gods serve to remind us of what we once beheld,
and as such are necessary to weak men.^ This same
spirit, moreover, is mildly expressed in the determi-
nation by this school of the dispute, as to the value
of virtue and pleasure. The first rank is adjudged
to tlie former ; for this ought to rule over the Jatter,
as the soul over the body ; but this decision does
not forbid all pleasure in the beautiful ; for this
is declared to be necessarily connected in the soul
witli the beautiful itself.^ It may tlicrefore justly

* Max. Tyr, Diss. i. \>. 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<r/iov oxix^ ttouT 6 Otoq,
<i\Ad KaraKDUnil, Kcti ravry Xsyoir' av Kai iroitiv lyiipiav Kni lTniTTpk<piov
irpog avTov ruv Tt voiiv aiiriig Kai avTi)v uimTi[t Ik Kapov rivof; »"/ ftai)itt)^
\'iirvov, OTTug dwoftXtTTovan vpbQ ra vorjTa avrov SixiTui rti ulif Kai rag
fiop(pdc lipiffiivt] Tuiv tKiivov vot}fiaTti/v.

234 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

and by themselves/^ But as the leading thought of
the Platonists of this age was, that ideas are the eter-
nal archetypes of the universal laws of nature,
which in the formation of particular kinds of mat-
ter underwent particular changes, most of them
arrived at far too limited a notion of what Plato
himself understood by ideas. They assumed ideas
of the general laws, and the permanent genera and
species of things alone, and not of individual ob-
jects, or of monstrous and unnatural phenomena ;
even the creations of art, the notions of relation,
and whatever seemed to be small and contemptible,
were considered unworthy of ideas,^^ however
strongly both the particular assertions of Plato, and
his general ideas, of science might be opposed to such
a view. Another and more considerable confusion
of different opinions is, we think, discoverable in the
distinction which Alcinous draws, between the idea
and species, holding with Aristotle, that the latter
cannot be separated from matter.^^

But on this head we must not forget to mention,
that this medley of opinions was not universally
approved of by the Platonists of this age. We are
told of one Calvisius Taurus, who taught at Athens
in the reign of Antoninus Pius, and wrote a treatise
on the differences between the opinions of Plato,

^^ lb. 9. "EffTi Sk )) tSsa uiq /liv Trpoc Btbv v6t](ng avrov, ohq Sk Trpbg r'luag
vorjTOV TrpoJTOV, wg Sk Trpbg rt/v v\r]v fikrpov, uiQ Sk wpoq rbv aiaGrjTbv Kocr
fiov Trapdciiyfia, wg dk irpbg auTrjv i^tTaZ^ojiivr] ovtria.

" L. 1. 'OpiZovrai Sk Tfjv iSkav TrapdStiyiia t<ov Kara (pvffiv aiwviov.
ovTf yap Toig TrXiiaroig rwv airb JlXarojvog apiffKei tCjv rsxviicaiv tlvai
iSeag, olov ciairicog fi Xvpag, ovrt ixt)v tujv irapu (pviriv, olov ■KvptTov Kai
Xdkkpag, ovti toiv Kara /lipog, olov 2w/cparowc Kai UXdrwvog, dXX' ovSk
TiHv ivTtXwv Tivog, o'lov pvTTOV Kai Kdp(povg, ovrt rSiv irpog n, olov niit^ovog
Kai vTTipk\ovTog.

^* lb. 4. T(Jv votjTiDv rd jxiv Trp^ra vndpxti wg ai iSiai, rd dk StvTipa
wgrd i\cr] rd itti tij vXy dx<^pi<JTa bvra Trig vXr]Q.

LEARNED STOICS. TAURUS, ATTICUS. 235

Aristotle, and the Stoics. ^^ Of this teacher his
disciple Gelliiis has related much which appears to
prove that his commentaries on the writings of
Plato were at least remarkable for good judgment ;^°
but we have no information as to the points on
which, as a Platonist, he opposed the Peripatetic
and Stoical doctrines. We are better informed as
to the manner in which another Platonist,
Atticus, who was a little later in date than Taurus,^^
and composed a treatise against Aristotle, ex-
plained the difference between him and Plato.
The fragments of his work, preserved by Eusebius,^^
refute with some warmth the Aristotelian theorv-
Atticus condemned the lax principles of other
Platonists, who, to support their own views, did not
scruple to avail themselves of the arguments of
Aristotle ; and believed that the eternity of the
world is consistent with the doctrine of Plato.^^
Aristotle is censured as having differed from Plato
merely from a love of novelty. His hypothesis of
a fifth element is represented as arising from his
having confounded together the doctrine of Plato
concerning the unchangeable ideas, and of the im-
mortal but created gods, by which he was led to
form the monstrous absurdity of an impassible
body.^^ Even in his cosmogonical theory Aristotle
is charged with having introduced many arbitrary
and untcnaljlc novelties ;^'^ but he is most severely

'■' GfU. xii. h ; Sulci. 8. V. 'VavpoQ.
*• !-ce cspcciiiUy Gell. i. 20; vi 1.3, 11.

■^' According to Euscbiiis he flourished in the Kith year of Marcus Aurelius.
Syncell. p. CHI, Vcn.

" Pra-'p. Ev. XV. 4— .0, 12, 1.'?. '" H>- •', "•

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. <piXo<To<pia Si ivrtiSav avrfjg
tviropiOTura ?xy» tote fxaXiffra i/jminXaTai Xuywv avTi<jTaai<av nai
laoppoirwv.

LEARNED PERIPATETICS. 239

which the old systems displayed did but perplex
those who wished to use her as a perfect science.
Such a state of things must manifestly have greatly
favoured Scepticism. And, in fact, a Platonist of this
age, Favorinus, the favourite of Hadrian, appears
to have been but little removed from Scepticism,
or at least from the view of the New Academy.
His penetration, his varied and available stores of
learning, served only to furnish him with doubts
whether man could or not be certain of anything.^^

In a somewhat different relation to the develop-
ment of our period stood the Peripatetic philosophy.
Of it we have observed that it never found much
favour with the Romans ; and on the other hand we
may remark, that it exercised but little influence on
the form of the Grseco-Oriental philosophy. Con-
sequently it retained greater purity of doctrine
than any other system of philosophy. For, as it
did not promise to its followers any great influence
either in the world or with its contemporaries, it was
the more likely to remain pure from all foreign
admixture.

In fact, however, among the learned men who
lived at the beginning of this period, not a few were
Peripatetics. We have already mentioned Staseas,
the teacher of Piso, and Crati])pus, the friend of the
older and teacher of the younger Cicero. Yet these
persons, of whom nothing is quoted but practical
precepts,^" are less important for characterizing the

*' Galen, de Opt. Disc. c. 1. I'hilostratus (Vit. Soph. i. S) praises his work
on fhc Pyrrhonistic Tropes as his miistcrpiecc.

We must here clans the question of divination whicli Cratij)piiH dJHCusscd.
Cic.de Div. i. 32, .'iO; ii. 415, 52. That he comhintd togetlier the Peripatetic
and the Phitonic philosophy apparently follows from Cic. de Off. ii. 2, fin.

240 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

Peripatetic doctrine of this date than those who
attached themselves to Andronicus of Rhodes. The
valuable labours of this individual, who was a con-
temporary of Cicero in elucidation of the works of
Aristotle and Theophrast have been already noticed.
He arranged the works of these two philosophers on
the principle of similarity of subjects, examined the
genuineness of those current in Aristotle's name,
gave explanations of them and also composed an
original treatise on logic. These learned pursuits
were continued by his scholars, among whom we
have to reckon Boethius of Sidon, and Sosigemes,
who was employed by Julius Csesar to assist in the
correction of the calendar. Contemporary with
these were Xenarchus, who, although he proclaimed
himself a Peripatetic, nevertheless wrote against the
fifth element of Aristotle, and Nicolaus of Damascus,
the friend of Augustus and of Herod, who is known
for his historical works, and also for certain philo-
sophical treatises in exposition of Aristotle. To a
rather later date, probably, belong Alexander
iEgeus and Adrastus of Aphrodisias, whose treatises
on the categories, and on the order of the Aris-
totelian works in general, are frequently appealed to
by subsequent writers on the subject. It would
render our work too bulky were we to enter into
many such remarks on the commentators of Ari-
stotle.^^ It will be sufficient to observe that the
learned works of these individuals are lost in con-

^^ All further details may be found, if required, in Fabricius. Generally
there is little certainty either in the chronology or biography of these individuals,
and this appears to confirm our opinion that the Peripatetic doctrine was in
favour chiefly with the learned who exercised little influence in public life.

PERIPATETICS. ALEXANDER OF APHRODISIAS. 241

sequence of later writers of the same class, who trod
in their footsteps, having both made use of and
thrown their predecessors into the shade. A series
of these writers may be traced down to Alexander
of Aphrodisias, who pre-eminently enjoys the title
of the expounder of Aristotle, in consequence of his
writings having superseded all earlier commentaries.
There is one remark with respect to the older com-
mentators which we must not omit, and that is, that
they all evince, more or less, a disposition to com-
bine the Aristotelian philosophy with the Platonic.
Ammonius of Alexandria, the teacher of Plutarch, is
generally given as the first who favoured this new
species of Eclecticism ; but on the one hand, this
statement is only an inference from the manner in
which Plutarch proceeded with philosophy, and on
the other hand, there are many traces of even earlier
commentators having made, not only Aristotelian,
but also Platonic writings the common object of
their learned expositions. This procedure is but a
part of the general tendency of the age.

Of the commentators of Aristotle, none deserves
a detailed notice more than Alexander of Aphrodi-
sias, although even his merits are not very great.
He rarely furnishes the necessary aids to the right
understanding of Aristotle's works, since he was
devoid of that large and liberal view of the Ari-
stotelian philosophy which was requisite to remove
such ol)Scurities of expression as originated in
the indistinctness of the idea. Enthusiastic in bis
admiration of iiis author, he seeks to show the per-
fect agreement between Aristotle's mo(h' of concej)-
tioii and that of the existing jige, witii a view to

IV. K

242 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY,

establish the pre-eminence of the Peripatetic doc-
trine. Accordingly he attacks all the leading-
schools, especially the Platonists and Stoics, but
only occasionally deigning to notice the Epicureans,
whose opinions he regards as too sensuous and
unlearned to call for a serious refutation. Against
the Stoics he composed the treatise, dedicated to the
emperors Severus and Caracalla, on Destiny, and on
that which is in man's power,^^ which affords the
best specimen of his manner. It proves that its
author ascribed considerable authority to the ordi-
nary notions of mankind, since he asserts that man
generally does not greatly err from the truth,^^ and
connects this position with the dogma of his school,
that whenever a truth has become sensuously evi-
dent, it overbears any weight of probability in
favour of its opposite. ^^ In agreement with this
view, his reasonings against the Stoical doctrine of
an all-determining force of necessity, go simply to
show that in support of it, the Stoics wrest and give
a new interpretation to the terms which stand for
general notions. ^^ In this line of argument he
faithfully preserves his character of an interpreter,
and confines himself to giving the right explanation
of genera] language. All men, he argues, assume

^^ Qujestiones Naturales, de Anima, Morales, iii. 12. Towards the end the
Epicureans are described as /3pax£i^ Tivl wiQavoTTjn ivoovrtQ.

^•' De Fato, 2, To fi'tv ovv livai ri Trjv tlfiapfikvrjv Kai airiav tlvai
Tov y'lyvtcrGai riva Kar' avrrjv iKavwt; t) tu)v uvBponrdJV avviarrjai 7rp6-
XjjJ/ig- ov yap Kivov ovo' daro^ov TciXyjOovg rj Koivt) riov dvO^xoTriov
<pvaiQ. Ib.l4. He also assumes a 7rp6X»;4'if t&v Qtwv. Q,u. Nat. ii. 21,
fol. 17, a,

** De Fato, 26. 'Iicavairspa yap »"/ tov Trpayfiaros ivdpyiia Trpof
avyKaTa.Qt.aiv irdariQ rr/g Sid Xoyojv dvaipovat]Q avTO TnBav('nr]TOQ,

^' On this point cf. Qua;st. Nat. iii. 1 1.

PERIPATETICS. ALEXANDER OF APHRODISIAS. 243

the existence of the contingent, and suppose there
may be a something which, while it is possible,
must not of necessity happen ; a something which
is in human power; and experience justifies this
assumption. ^^ It is not everything that comes to
pass that is pre-determined by fate, but that alone
which is accomplished in obedience to the laws of
nature ; and even these laws are subject to excep-
tions ; there is much that can only be said to
happen generally but not universally. Nature does
not always attain to her end ; on the contrary, there
is much that happens in direct contravention of her
laws.^^ Now the use which Alexander makes of
this Aristotelian view in order to refute the Stoical
theory of an unbroken and eternal chain of causes, is
not calculated to raise a high opinion of the pro-
foundness of his judgment. For we actually find
him appealing in confirmation of it to the seeming
fact, that much is often without its natural and
proper consequences, of which he gives as instances
that every man does not propagate the species, and
that every flower does not nurture its fruit.^® He is
evidently introducing extraneous considerations here
into the argument, as he does where he contends
that man is endued with powers of deliberation,
whicii, however, would be useless if he were not
free to act according to his deliberate judgment; but
nature produces nothing in vain.'^'^ For it is evident
that the proper object of Alexander was to pohit

[•'" Dc Fnto, «, 10, 14, 26.

^ De Fato, 6. The notion of chance refers namely to that wliich happens —
that of necc-ssity even to that which is. lb. 'A; Qu. Nat. ii. .1.

" De Fato, ^.'J. ''^ Ih, 11.

u 2

244 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

out and insist upon, the distinction between natural
and rational causes. He does not, it is true, abso-
lutely neglect this topic. Indeed, a very superficial
acquaintance with his master's doctrine must have
taught him it was exactly at this point that the
Aristotelian and Stoical systems diverged ; the
latter neglecting the distinction, which the former
had so strongly insisted upon, between natural and
rational motives, and making the rational to be
merely a higher form of the natural. ^° But still he
does not insist upon it strongly enough, but is pre-
eminently occupied with other, less essential and
vaguer points of the theory. We must also observe,
that it appears very surprising that Alexander makes
not the slightest allusion to the opinions of the later
Stoics, notwithstanding the important modifications
which they had introduced into the doctrine of
human liberty. His controversy is confined to the
older Stoics. For generally the schools of this
period paid less attention to contemporaneous than
to ancient opinions.

There is but one point more in connection with
this controversy between the Peripatetics and Stoics
that appears to call for remark. Alexander of
Aphrodisias objected to his adversaries, that by
teaching a universal necessity they imperilled all
feeling of piety and religion. For such a doctrine,
he says, is irreconcilable with that of a particular
providence, which supposes that the gods take care
of individuals, bpth providing for their welfare and
recompensing them after their deserts. How can
the gods reasonably be accounted worthy of worsliip,

■'» lb. 33; Qu. Nat.iii. 13; iv. 29.

PERIPATETICS. ALEXANDER OF APHRODISIAS. 245

even on the supposition that they deign to reveal
themselves, and to give assistance to man, if it is to be
thouo-ht that their aid and revelation are theunavoid-
able result of certain predetermining causes? Again,
he urges that even while the Stoics defended sooth-
saying, as part of religion, they yet deprived it of
all its importance, since in consistency they must
fain admit that it is unavailing, since no impending
misfortune could be avoided by its means/^ With
this objection he combines the Aristotelian theory of
the several kinds of good, by attempting to show
that a divine providence is only important to those
who admit the existence of a corporeal and external
good ; since whoever holds that the beautiful alone
is good, places all good in his own power/^ But
upon this point it was necessary for him not only to
refute the Stoics, but also to defend the positions of
his own school. The singular doctrine of the latter
concerning the distinction between the worlds above
and below the moon, which, associated as it was with
many ancient conceptions, had spread far and wide,
was also a fruitful occasion of disbelief in a divine
providence. We formerly remarked, that this doc-
trine of Aristotle had been attacked by Atticus, as
denying a providence for men and things under the
moon, since in this domain all was abandoned
to the powers of nature and the human soul."
And on the other hand, the Aristotelian system has
been charged with rendering a divine providence
impossible even in the sphere above the moon ;
inasmuch as it taught that all there moves in certain

*' I)c Fiito, 17. " Qii. Nat. i. 11. " KuhcI). Pr. Ev. xv..'",, ]-2.

246 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

necessary courses/* Now against these objections
Alexander defends the doctrine of his school by
remarking, that the idea of providence may be
taken in two different senses : in one, everything
set in motion and changed by another, for the sake
of some particular end, is considered as a work of
providence ; and in the other, that alone is ascribed
to providence which is brought about in one body
by a second, and for the sake of a third. In the
former sense, all may be said to be subject to the
providence of God, since God moves all for the
sake of some end. He it is who gives to the stars
their revolutions, in order that therein they may not
indeed attain to the divine nature, but yet in their
several degrees assimilate themselves to it. But in
the second and narrower sense of the word the pro-
vidence of God rules only the sublunary world ; inas-
much as the motions of the stars are so ordered for
the best, that those of the earth are dependent upon
them/^ But the Platonists assailed the Peripatetics
with a further objection, and this was, that although
Aristotle did attribute providence to the gods, yet
the providence he ascribed was not absolute and
essential to them, but merely incidental (kotci avfi-
QSriKog)- For that, according to Aristotle, the end
of their activity is not the welfare of mankind, but
that while they merely exercise it for their own
sakes, they collaterally promote at the same time

** Atticus says, Twv fiiv ydp ovpaviuv c'ul Kara, ra avra Koi (Jvavriog
(vovrwv alriav rjjv Ufiapiikvr]v vvori^rjcn, tuiv de virb aiKr]vr]V Trjv
ipvaiv, TiSv Si dvSrpojTrivwv (ppoinjaiv kuI Trpovoiav kuI Tpvxr/v. The term
TTpovoia can only mean here, consistently with the other expressions of Atticus,
a providential care of mankind.

*' Qii. Nat. i. 25.

PERIPATETICS. ALEXANDER OF APHRODISIAS. 247

the good of man.^^ In answer to this objection
Alexander attempted to show that the relation
between God and man would be completely re-
versed if providence for man were made a part of
the very essence of Godhead. It is inconsistent
with the notion of divinity to maintain that its
activity is for the sake either of the preservation
or for the benefit of man ; for this would be the
same as to hold, that the master is for the interest
of his slave. Whatever exists for the sake of others
is inferior to that for whose sake it exists. The
gods, therefore, cannot be for the sake of man, but
they have their proper activity in themselves, and
for their own sakes/^ It is manifest, that the great
object of these thoughts is to maintain the notion of
the natural agency of the most general forces in
the world, absolutely and distinct from any special
reference to human life. If then Alexander in-
ferred accordingly, that the gods' providential care
of man does not indicate the essence of their ac-
tivity, still he could not allow, therefore, tliat it is
merely an unessential reference of this activity, or
merely collateral to it. And he accordingly denied
that the disjunctive proposition applied to the
question in band. For to assert of the divine
nature tliat it exercises a providence for man only
collaterally and incidentally would not be justifiable,
except it could be shown that the welfare of man

*• lb. ii. 21. From the conclusion of the Essay it is evident that it is diroctcil
against the Pliitonists also.

" L. i. fol. 17, a. 'AXX' a' rag oiVurtc r6 3tTov Ivtpyfimi htpyuag tT/c
tUv ^vrfTiov (Twrijpfac, olix avrov (ed. oiiK avTov) X"?"") rravrdTrfcrii' t'ii>
^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 <piXo(TO(piav, Si6ti
Trpo/jytlrai roC ravavria Trtpi to avrb iiTrafixfiv to TdvavTia vrepi ro avTO
0atj/£T3'at' Kal o'i fi'tv aKiTTTiKol (paiveff^aiXiyovcn to. ivavTia ntpi to ciuto,
oi Hi'llpaKXiirnoi auro tovtov Koi Iwl to inrdpxf^^v avra HiTigxovTai.

SCEPTICS. iENESIDEMUS. 263

adopt the Sceptical habit of thought, simply
because it refused to pass any judgment as to the
nature of that which is the ground of all pheno-
mena ; and this ^nesidemus has himself acknow-
ledged/^ For the Sceptic would not admit that it
is possible to predicate of entity that it may have
opposite accidents, and ^nesidemus was so little
deceived on this head, that on the contrary, he re-
marked that the Sceptic would not even say, whether
there is or not a real entity.^^ Others of his princi-
ples are equally irreconcilable with this pretended
Scepticism. Thus he taught that being, or the es
sence (oxxria) is a body, and indeed the prime body,
which implies a distinction between the prime body
which is the ground and principle of all, and the
phenomenal or manifest body ; and he assumed, too,
that air is the principle of all things.®^ In these
assertions he might seem in some degree faithful
to the doctrine of Heraclitus, but this was cer-
tainly no longer the case, when he made the ground
of all tilings to be time, which also is corporeal, ^^
and especially when he connected this doctrine with
other positions, which appear to indicate a very
earnest endeavour to combine and get rid of all
contrarieties in the idea of the first prime cause.
In this sense undoubtedly, must be understood his
positions, that not only the whole time, unquestion-

^'* Phot. Cod. 212 p. 2U1, Ila'acli. i;»;/i£ia fiii', uiantp'ru fai'Hid (jiafitv
Tuiv 6.favii)V, o{iS' <5\wc ilvai 0ij<Ti, I'lnaTijcOai Sk Ktvy Trpo<iiradii(f. roiif

OlO/iiVOVf.

''' lb. p, 2ft0.

•" Scxt. Emp. Tyrrh. Hyp. iii. 138 ; Adv. Math. x. '21(;.

"' lb. 233.

** Sext, Emp. Pyrrh. lly|i. iii. 1311 ; Adv. Math. x. 21(;.

264 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

ably the motion of the heavens, but also the now, the
simple element of time, is the }3rimary ground of all
things ; even as the unit, the simple element of num-
ber, is the prime substance ; for it is by the multi-
plication of the " now" and of the unit that times
and numbers are produced; the part, however, is
undoubtedly both diti'erent from the whole, and yet
also the same with it, because simply, the first essence
is both whole and also part, whole i. e. in respect to
the world, but part in respect to the nature of each
determinate living creature.^^ It may well be
doubted, whether these positions adequately express
the Pantheistic view of the Heraclitic theory. Ac-
cording to it, the essence of all things — the unity
of the whole world — is expressed, and perfectly con-
tained in every several thing, as well in the part as
in the whole ; on this account every plurality in
the world is but a repetition of the same unit, and
in every moment of time the whole is completely
present. Therefore ^nesidemus might well say,
that in the same there are opposites. That he

lb. 216, sq. "06ev Kai Sid Trjg Trpwrrjc tiaaywyiig koO' 'i^ irpaynaTuv
rtraxdai Xsyutv rag airXagXe^eig, a'i riveg fiepri rov XSyov Tvyxavovai, Tt)v
fiiv xpijvog Trpofftjyopiav /cat rijv fiovag kiri riig ovaiag reraxdai ^Jjffi'v, ij
Tig tan awfiaTiK))' rd St ^ty'tOi] twv xpovutv Kai ru K£(pdXaia tmv api0/xa»v
in't iroXvirXaiTiaajiou /xaXiorTa iK(p(piCfdai. to ji'tv yap vvv, o Sij xP^vov
firjvvfia iffri, tn St ti)v jjiovada ovk dXXo ritlvai ff t))v ovaiavTrjv Sk r)^kpav
Kai Tov fiTJva Kai rov iviavrbv TvoXvTrXamacixbv vizupxn-v rqii vvv, (prjfii ok
Tov xpovov.rd ci 8vo Kai rpla Kai dtKa Kai tKarbv iroXvirXatnaafibv tlvai TTJg
fiovddog. lb. ix. 337. 6 Si Aivr)(TiSr}fiog Kara 'HpuKXeirov, Kai 'iripov, iprjai, to
fi'tpogTOv oXov Kai aTvroV r) yap oiiaia Kai oXr] tffri Kai fiepog' bXrj fikv Kara
TOV Koajiov, {i'tpog Se KaTdrt)v tovSi tov Z'pov (pvaiv. The last position is am-
biguous, both in my paraphrase and the original. The manner in which Sex-
tius quotes what is utterly unintelligible, is somewhat singular. The beginning
of the first passage clearly shows that Sextus endeavoured to give a systematic
basis to the Heraclitic doctrine, by comparing the forms of entity with those
of language.

SCEPTICS. ^NESIDEMUS. 265

should have called this primary unit air and time,
seems to indicate that he regarded it as a living-
essence. Perhaps we shall not greatly err, if we
assume, that this Materialistic Pantheism was
closely connected with the medical science of the
Sceptical school ; which connection ma)^ probably,
further account for the fact, that iEnesidemus ex-
plained, in a directly sensuous way, the opinions
of Heraclitus, concerning the influx of the divine
fire into the human soul.** Now in this direction
of thought, Jinesidemus was not, in fact, far re-
moved from the Stoics. If, therefore, he never-
theless argues chiefly against them, and objects to
the newer Academy its agreement with the Stoics,
he may have been looking merely to subordinate
matters, or perhaps the ground of his objection
may have been, that the Stoics did not appear to
him sufficiently consequent in their Materialistic
and Pantheistic tendency. ^^

If tiien in regard to this whole doctrine, we
ought not to class ^Sinesidemus with the Sceptics,
we must nevertheless observe, that it was of little
influence on the further course of our history ; it is
merely a trace of the Pantheistic ideas, which in his
age showed tliemselvcs in difl'erent places, but
principally in the East ; and as such, we consider
them as an insignificant monument of the times,
standing alongside of many more important ones.

*' Sext. Emp. Adv. Matli. vii. 349, .350.

*' We formt-rly remarked that Sextus Empiricus evinced in bis medical
views, a preference for the methodical school ; so too, many of the earlier Seep,
tics may have inclined to the school of the I'neumatici witiiout, however, adojiting
ita philosophical grounds. Ultimately indccil, every Scepticism has n Dogma-
tism in the back ground.

266 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

There is nothing surprising in the union of such a
Pantheism with Sceptical habits of thoughts, for
the Pantheistic theory is invariably accompanied
with a marked opposition to the intellectual develop-
ment of science. Of this aversion we have already
discovered many vestiges in the Eleatae and the
Megarians, and even in Heraclitus himself. The
later Sceptics diligently searched for all these
traces ;^*' and if iEnesidemus considered this as the
right road to the Heraclitic philosophy, it was only
because it tended to overthrow the existing view
of things, and by declaring it to be in itself a
worthless representation of them, prepared the way
to the Pantheistic doctrine. This is clearly the
result also of his definition of Pyrrhonism. It, he
says, is a recollection of phenomena, or of that,
which is in some manner or other conceived, by
which all is compounded with all, and being com-
pared together, is found to contain much anomaly
and complication.®^ However, this Pantheistic
view of iSlnesidemus does not constitute his his-
torical importance, which consisted rather in the
extensive influence he exercised by his Sceptical
mode of teacliing ; for he is expressly named as
one of the heads of the new Sceptical school/® to
which however, he does not appear to have trans-

"^ Diog. L. ix. 72, 73.

'^ lb, ix, 78. "EoTtv ovv 6 TlvppuveiOQ Xoyoc fivrjixt] n? rHjv (paivo/isvwv
f; Tu>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 <Tvyxo>{)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 <jvvayu[)iiniv Kill eif irroaOivtiai' avTMi> 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<TTopr]9evTa 'iSia KaQti(TTr]Kii rwv TrXnaTaicLg Tr]pi]advT(iiv,
dW ov KOivd Trdvrojv. lb. v. 103. sq.

"" Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 246, 2.54; Adv. Math. v. l,sq.

"■^ Adv. Math. v. 2. ^^° lb, viii. 288.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 283

application. This mode of contemplating their
special science led them to a view of science in
general, which led them on one hand to reject all
profounder scientific investigation, but on the other
to undertake the defence of the practical arts, and
all useful, experimental knowledge. ^^^ On this
point, indeed, Sextus is not over-circumspect ; he
attacks not only philosophy, but the encyclic sciences
also, which however he approves of, so far as they
have in view either the alleviation of evil, or the
attainment of the profitable, but finds fault with
them so soon as they lose themselves in such unpro-
fitable speculations, as, going beyond the limits of
memory and tradition, attempt to discover the ele-
ments and causes of phenomena. ^^^ The ordinary
practice of these arts is what he holds in esteem ;
this use is all that is important. To take a special
instance, grammar is useful as teaching men to read
and write, and thereby obviating that worst of all
evils — forgetful In ess ; but it is a work of idle display,
when it proceeds to distinguish the letters into con-
sonants and vowels, and these, again, into long and
short. ^^^ In the same spirit, he declares the study
(A' j-hctoric to be useless, because without it a man
can learn to speak well by j)ractice alone, and there-
fore the investigation of the principles which that
practice proceeds upon is idle and superfluous.^^*
Thus, again, in liis depreciation of mathematics, he
does not intend to deny the utility of arithmetic and
mensuration ;'^'"' his objections are confined to their

'" ryrrh. Hyp, i. 24, 2.37; iii, 1.51 ; Adv. Math. i. 50, .W, 172, liCi, 241.
'" Adv. Math. i. 40— bC, 172. "* \h. i. .W, 100, «|f|.

'*' lb. ii. 5f). ''^^ I'vrrh. My p. iii. lol.

284 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

scientific form, preliminary notions, the validity of
arguing from hypotheses,^^^ the definition of body,^^^
the possibility of number,^^^ and divisibility into
equal parts.^^^ Against the astrologers he has
nothing to say, except so far as they pretend to pre-
dict the fortunes and characters of men,^^° and he
gives himself the trouble, so unnecessary in a scien-
tific point of view, of demonstrating the worthless-
ness of the principles and method of the Chaldeans,
On the other hand, he is far from condemning the
application of astronomy to the prediction of rain or
drought, pestilence and earthquake, but even admits
it to be serviceable to agriculture and navigation. ^^^
From such ideas it must be clear that the end of the
New Scepticism was to get rid of every step in
science and art which goes beyond the profitable,
and to regard it as a baneful luxury calculated to
complicate and involve in similar uncertainty with
itself even useful doctrines. Accordingly the moral
view of the Sceptics was extremely mean and low,
and utility was the exclusive aim of their art of life.
With this low view of life and morality, there
was connected the opinion that all that is requi-
site for the right regulation of conduct is a mere
knowledge of phenomena, and accordingly the
labours of the New Sceptics were directed to show
that nothing which transcends experience can be
known. They took a preliminary objection to the
possibility of a higher science, on the ground that
its object is to know the unknowable, which does

i"'"'- Adv. Math, iii 7, sqq. ^'" lb. iii. 19, sq.

'■-=« lb. iv. 14. sqq. '"'' lb. iii. 10r», s.j<i. '»° lb. v. 2, sqq.

131 Adv. Math. i. 51; v. 1,2.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 285

not lie in the immediate consciousness of internal
experience, but being extrinsical to it is the ground
of all phenomena. ^^^ On this principle they dis-
puted the criteria of truth, and even doubted the
existence of truth itself. In the same spirit they
called in question the value of reasoning as a
method of arriving at the knowledge of what is not
immediately known, and doubted whether there
can be any sign of what is hidden, or the cause be
learned from the effect. But in all these doctrines,
the more they seemed to endanger every kind of
knowledge, even experience itself, so necessary in
their own judgment for the right conduct of life,
the more care and diligence did they exhibit to
place experimental knowledge beyond the reach of
their own attacks. For this purpose they drew a
distinction between the signs which are aids to a
recollection simply of certain precedents, and those
which are intended to indicate something occult
and extraneous to phenomena. The latter they
rejected as mere figments of the Dogmatists, but
admitted the former as fully establislied by the
testimony of life itself. ^^^ These, however, have
not the power of revealing anglit which by its
nature is hidden from man, but merely a certain
phenomenon, which, at the actual moment, is with-
drawn from perception. Smoke, for instance, serves

'*■ Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 13, Ifj, 201!.

i3j |»yrrl). Hyii. ii. 99,sf|.; 102. AiTTiic ovv oi'xrtjij twv mifitiwv <}iai[i()-
pac, iJjQ i(pafitv, ov irpoQ vav ffrj/itlov (ivTiXiyofiiv, aWa irftof; fiovov to
IvCUKTiKuv (i)(; nnti ruiv Soy ftariKwv TrfirXarrOat Sokdvv. to yu() vnofivr)-
ijTiKiiv ntTriarivTai inro rov ftiov, tnti kuttvov icuiv tiq atffiitovrui irvp
Ka't ovXt^v Otaffa/itvof rpavfia yiytviiffOai Xiyn, Adv. Miith. viii. 151,
»(|f|.; 288, 28.0.

28G ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

to remind us of fire.^^* The use of such a suppo-
sition for establishing a kind of knowledge sufficient
for all practical purposes is obvious, since to make
it complete in this respect, nothing more was re-
quired than to assume that these signs are so closely
associated, that the one is invariably closely at-
tended by the other. For it would then follow
that whoever understands the law of their associa-
tion, can, by the production of one, cause the
appearance of another. This was a sufficient foun-
dation for such an art of life as the Sceptics of this
age were content to be guided by ; for all that they
had in view was, by the production of one pheno-
menon to assist the appearance of another.

But agreeably to their very idea of useful know-
ledge, they would be driven to admit the possibiHty
of a written and oral communication of experience,
since they were far from being disposed to limit the
knowledge of individuals to their own personal
experience. ^^^ Now we might perhaps expect that
they would have availed themselves of the means
which the doctrine of suggestive signs so readily
furnished, to prove the possibility of teaching oral
and written instruction, since reading and writing

^^ Adv. Math. viii. 156. 'AWd yap Svolv ovTtuv ffrjfielojv, rov re
VTTOfivrjaTiKov Kal tTri twv Trpbg Kaipov aSrjXujv to. tzoXKo. \pr\(!i.^ii.i'f.iv ho-
KOvvTog Kai rov IvStiKTiKOv, cnrep tTri riLv (pvau aSi)\wi' lyKplvtrai, k.t.\.
Of. the distinction between the unknown KaQaira^, fvati and rrpoQ Kaipov.
lb. 145, sqq.; Pyrrh. Hyp ii. 97, sq. With the distinction drawn between the
relative and 'memorial signs, compare that between dogmatical and practical
(^lUTiKai) investigations, wliich are likewise called Tr]pr]TiKai. Diog. L.
ix. 108.

^^ Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 24, 237; Adv. Math. i. 51, sqq. On this ground Sextus
considered it advisable to solve the ambiguities that may possibly creep into
the historical transmission of the fact. Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 256.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 287

naturally fall under the idea of signs. But we do
not find this to be tlie case. On the contrary,
Sextus argues against the possibility of teaching
and learning ^^^ generally, and for this purpose em-
ploys for the most part such arguments as had been
previously advanced by the Sophists. These argu-
ments can be viewed in no other light than as a
specimen of that raillery which Sextus held to be
allowable in disputing with the Dogmatists.^" But
there was in truth a point in the general doctrine of
the New Sceptics, which naturally withheld them
from applying their theory of suggestive signs to
the explanation of oral and written instruction.
For although they have regarded writing and
language as manifest phenomena, they were far
from doing so in the case of the thoughts of the
soul, which are represented by oral and written
signs. Thought they classed with whatever is not
manifest by nature. There cannot, therefore, they
argued, be any suggestive signs either of the soul
or of its thouglits,^^^ and oral and written words
consequently must be reckoned among the signs
which are intended to indicate sometliing occult.^^^
We have here a proof how little the Sceptics were

"" lb. iii. 252, sqq.; Adv. Math. i. 9, sqq.
'" Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 62; cf. ii. 211.

'" Adv. Matt), viii. l.'i.'j. 'H i/'i'x^ 'f'^v 'PvTti afjjXwv icrri Tr^iay/iarwv.
oiiSiirort yup iinu ri'iv rjfitripav iripvKe nirrrnv tvo(iyii«v tokivti) It
ovaa Ik twv irifu to awiia icivr/dtoiv IvSuktikuq fiTjvvtrai. Cf. Pyrrli.
Hyp. ii. Z-2.

"* I'yrrh. Hyp. ii. l.';0, 131 ; Adv. Miitb. viii. 27'!, Sfiq. Some ohjcctions are
advanced, and yet ultimately, p. 291), it is admitted that the arguments have
the same force, if only it be conceded that those of the Sceptics are equally
forcible.

288 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

able, to reconcile their assumption of a particular,
useful science with their own general Scepticism.

This doctrine of the soul, which we have here
touched upon, forms an essential feature in the sys-
tem of the late Sceptics. It is, moreover, closely
connected with other views which we must now
proceed to notice, as affording- deep insight into the
intrinsic character of the Sceptical habit of thought.
It may perhaps appear singular that the same per-
sons who maintained that the emotions of the soul
alone could be asserted with certainty by man,
should have regarded the soul itself and whatever
is in it — its thouglits and states — as something un-
known, ^^° and eluding perception (^evapyeia). Never-
theless, the explanation of this seeming inconsistency
is to be found in the opinion with vvhich, as it was
generally shared by their contemporaries, it would
scarcely be just to reproach their system exclusively,
that in perception nothing is apprehended but what
exists outwardly and bodily. This view is strongly
expressed in the proposition already adduced, that
the soul is occult, and also in many others. If
then the soul was thus placed by the Sceptics in
the obscure domain of the imperceptible, we might
naturally expect tliat the}^ would have looked upon
it as incorporeal. But, in fact, as we clearly see in
the case of iEnesidemus, they evince a decided ten-

^^^ Cf. Adv. Math. vi. 55. 'Qq ti jxii tan xj/uxi], oiiSk aiffGyaeig. /ispij
ydp TavT7iQ VTrypxov.

E.g. lb. Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 51. "O re <paaKwv KUTaXafifiavtiv to aawiiarov
rjroL aioOrjnti tovto napaarijott Kara\afij3avtiv f; Siu Xoyov- Kal alaBrt-
<T£i iiiv OvSafiwC) tTviiS)) a'l fi(v aiaQi)atiQ Kara snepetffiv Kai vv^iv dvTi-
\afif3dvi<Tdai SriKoixji TU)V aiaQTjrwv. If the Sceptics maintained that body-
was not perceptible, this was a part of tliat chicane which in practice they
found it impossible to carry out.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 289

dency to Materialism. This, in all probability, the
Sceptics in general derived from their medical
pursuits. In Sextus it discovers itself in many of
the propositions which in his Sceptical arguments
he assumes as valid. Thus it is evidently on prin-
ciples of Materialism, that he assigns real existence
to nothing but sensible particles, i. e. (as clearly fol-
lows from his previous remarks), the corporeal pro-
perties of things, and makes all else to be mere
relations. ^""^ And even when he is speaking of the
occult object of Dogmatical research, all that he
understands thereby is nothing more than a some-
thing corporeal, or what is relative to body, supposed
to exist externally to man, such as atoms, invisible
pores, and void space. The objects of pure intellec-
tion, on theother hand,he briefly and contemptuously
dismisses ; and justifies his rejection of them b}' the
simple principle which he considers to be established
by direct exy)erience, that nothing can be known except
through the senses, and that sensation cannot be pro-
duced except by the contact, cither mediate or imme-
diate, of an object with the senses.^" On this subject
he ado})ts, with a positiveness hardly to be expected
of a Sceptic, the doctrine of the Stoics and Epicu-

'*' Adv. Math. viii. IHI. Taiv ovv ovtojv, <pa(slv o'l otto r^c (jKtipKiiQ,
Til fiiv ifTTi Kara tia^»()av, ra Si vrpo^ ri irtoq i\nvra. Kai Kara Siatho-
pav fi'tv, oTToaa kot' iSiav vTroaraniv Kai aTroXvTU)^ voiirai, oiov
\ivk6v, ftiXav, yXvKV, Trticpov, nav to rowrojf irapair\r)<tiov. ;|/i\oef ydp
ai)Tolq Kai KaTU 7r£otyp«^/)v lirif3(J\\o^(v Kai Si^a tov trtpov n awtnt-
voilv. ll->- 20'j. To Ti aiadijTov, y ulaOr]Tuv iari, Kurd Statpopdi' votlTni.

'** lb. viii. !)6, sq. Oi li wtpi Ari/iOKpirov Kai WXuTwva dOtrcvvTts
fiiv Ta\; aiTOijanc, dvaipoiivTl^ oi Ta uttjGrjTd, p.6voit; cV tTrii/iO'ot toiq
voijrolf (Tvyx'ouffi rd irpdyfxaTa Kai ov fiovov Ttjv tuip ovtwv dXifOiiav
rtuXtvovaiv, dXKd Kai tt}v inivoiav avriiv, iraaa ydp v6r)ai(; dwb alfrOr}'
fitiuQ yiviTai fi oi) X'''P'C ai<jOi)<xnoi; Kui r) dwo TTfpiTrri.Wf 'i<c r/ ui'K dvitt
rrtpiTrrwiTJwf, k.t.X.

IV. u

290 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

reaiis, that all human knowledge has its source in sen-
sations, either primary or transformed. The same
view is also the ground of the unqualified assertion
which he makes, that the only object of the labours of
the Dogmatists is the discovery of that which, exist-
ing without, is the ground of phenomena.^*^ Accord-
ingly one of the heaviest objections which he can
bring against them is, that they are ignorant
whether their ideas, as supposed to be images of
external objects, truly represent their originals or
not, as the soul cannot pass out of itself to compare
the two ; indeed, he urges that the Dogmatists must
of necessity admit that conception in the soul is
wholly different from the object conceived, since the
conception of fire, for instance, does not burn like its
object. ^*^ After such Materialistic principles we
cannot well be surprised to find it asserted that the
invisible soul also is in its nature corporeal. In
every passage almost where Sextus treats of the
soul in a Sceptical spirit, he adopts the Materialistic
views of the Stoics.^^^ Accordingly his doubts on
the nature of the soul resemble those which we meet
with in Cicero, Galen, and others, being confined to
the question whether it be fire or air, &c.

When we proceed to examine all these traces of
the particular cast of thought which indicates the
proper end which the Sceptics had in view by their

1*4 Pyrrh. Hyp. i. 15. To Si fiiytarov iv ry Trpo^op^ rHJv ^tovwv
T0VTU)V TO kavTif (pnivofievov Xsyti (sc. 6 (r/ctTrriKOf) Kai to iraOoQ iiray-
yiWii TO iavTOv dSo^ciffTcJC, fit^Siv irtpi twv t^uOsv viroKiijx'ivwv Sta-
ftefiatovun'oc.

1*5 Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 74; Adv. Math. vii. 357. Kai fiaKpi^ Ciacpepti ») ^av-
raoia tov (pavTaaTOV. olov »; cnvo rrvpoQ (j)avTarria tov irvpoQ' to jitv
yap Kaisi, rj S' ovK itrri KavtTTiKT). lb. 386.

"' E. g. Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 70, 81; ill. 188; Adv. Math. ix. 71, sq.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 291

negative procedure, we immediately discover in all
a certain intrinsic coherency, and are consequently
able to determine without difficulty the value of
this mental tendency in the period with which we
are now engaged. Its object was simply to main-
tain the exclusive validity of those branches of
knowledge which are necessary or profitable for the
conduct of life. It was confined to furnishino' such
a system of knowledge as might be available as the
handmaid of practice. With this view, it was
necessary to demonstrate not only that there are in
man certain phenomena which he must admit as
necessary, but also that there holds among them a
certain association which may be easily remembered,
and of which it is the law that by the appearance of
one the existence of the other may be safely in-
ferred ; that, moreover, man co-operates in the
elaboration of phenomena, and by the eduction of
one he can evolve its necessary concomitant. And
furtlier, as they allowed that all the branches of this
useful knowledge cannot be acquired by any single
individual, or in the brief observation of a single
life, they were forced to concede, as a principle of
experience itself, that individual experiences are
capable of being recorded and transmitted for the
use of others. Now in the absence of a clear dis-
tinction between that whicli is really furnished by
experience, and what in the course of things at-
taches itself thereto (and such a distinction was
scarcely to be expc^cted of the New Sceptics), it was
not easy to avoid llie conclusion that the corj)oreal
only is j)(;rc<'|)tibie, since the useful arts are oc-
cupied with the corporeal alone ; and, consequently,
we are hardly surprised to find them, in spite of

u 2

292 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

their own opposition to the over-hasty inferences of
the Dogmatists, with equal precipitancy arriving at
the conclusion that all is corporeal. To the same
charge of precipitancy they laid themselves open
when they derived all human knowledge from sen-
suous perception, and considered every element of
thought as at most but a modified sensation, and
sought to explain reason and every other preroga-
tive of human nature, as nothing more than a prac-
tised dexterity in calling to mind previous prece-
dents, and limiting thereby absolute and actual
existence to the sensible properties of things and
reducing all besides to the merely relative. To the
same charge they are further liable for their indis-
position to every liberal pursuit, and for their doc-
trine that the composure of the soul which results
from the gratification of the animal impulses, is
of higher value than the noble pursuits of rational
culture and intellectual pursuits. All these opin-
ions seem to be firmly rooted in their minds,
not, however, as results of scientific reflection,
but rather as indispensable views of life. Such
opinions have little if anything to do with philoso-
phy ; but the Sceptics thought differently, and
believed the overthrow of philosophy itself to be
indispensable, in order to establish the certainty of
those ideas which are necessary to the practice of
the useful sciences, and to keep them pure from all
foreign admixture. This is the sole and proper
object of the New Scepticism, which was directed
against philosophy, and not against common sense,
on the ground that the Dogmatists had needlessly
mixed up the useful arts with certain scientific
ideas and principles, whicli, liowever, the Sceptics

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 293

believed themselves bound to reject as going be-
yond the demands of practical utility and as unsup-
ported by the testimony of experience. On this
point the Sceptics constantly complain that the
inconsiderate nieddlino; of the Doo-matists had
thrown doubt upon the best established principles,
and the most certain doctrines ; and that they were,
therefore, compelled to raise their voices against
them.^^' It was consequently their first object to
get rid of the general philosophical ideas which had
been tacked on to the common arts of life, and by this
pursuit they did in fact enter actively into the
development of their age. It is well known that all
the sciences, especially the Encyclic of the Greeks,
which are the chief objects of attack with Sextus,
had either been nursed in the bosom of pliilosophy,
or else were very closely related to it. This con-
nection, indeed, was natural, so far as the general
principles, method, and import of these sciences,
were concerned ; yet it must in truth be allowed
that it had been drawn too close and carried too far.
Philosopliy, by meddling with tlie Encyclic sciences,
had introduced many questions quite foreign to
tlieir ]>ro])cr object, which, as calculated to involve
them in confusion, proved prejudicial to the stabi-
lity of experimental progress. It was, therefore, a
benefit to .science to free it from such foreinu ele-
ments, and to effect this important object was the
mission of the Sceptics. But as their attempts were
devoid of a correct insight into the true import of

'" R. c. Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. l.";!. "Oaov /itv yap iirl ry <jvvi}Oii<f icni uSo-
{«iru>C apiO/jitlv ri (parity Kui nfjiO/tov tlvai n aKononiv i) lii rwtt
COYfturiKwy TTiijitiiyia Kai Tov Kara tovtov «ctKivr;Kt Koyuy.

294 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

philosophy, and of science generally, it was not to
be expected that they would always observe the
right measure. On the contrary, they indulged
without restraint a disposition to make the arts of
life independent of philosophy, and carried it out to
such. a degree as utterly to lose sight of whatever in
these sciences was of a general nature, and ultimately
to leave them nothing but the character of utility.
In this manner did the elements of the complex
and harmonious unity of scientific life fall apart,
and it began to exhibit symptoms of that decompo-
sition which is the forerunner of death. But even
amidst this decay the Sceptics still pursued, although
without a clear perception of the tendency of their
labours, an indispensable work of science, and this
was the distinction of those branches of knowledge,
which are formed by the common experience of life
from the more general doctrines of philosophy.
The two phenomena are naturally concomitant ; for
the decay of scientific life necessarily exhibits itself
in a gradual rejection of such elements as it had pre-
viously endeavoured to fuse together and to bring
into a forced union with itself; while these on their
side, as soon as they are once set free, exercise them-
selves in an attack upon philosophy which had
nurtured them, disputing with it a part of its privi-
leges, and claiming for themselves an equal title
to maturity and perfection. Such retribution does
time work, calling in question even just rights,
if abused by those who are rightfully entitled to
them. Thus the later Scepticism forms a perfect
contrast to the opinion of the olden philosophers,
and denied that science is grounded in philosophy

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 295

exclusively. It was not content with proving that
there is also an intellectual life besides philosophy,
but taught, on the contrary, that it is only out of
philosophy that it can be found ; or, rather, that
true philosophy must ultimately concede that all
philosophy is but an irrational delusion.

But even if, as we believe, we have thus rightly
characterized the general object and vocation of the
New Scepticism, we have yet but partially dis-
charged our task of exhibiting it under all its histo-
rical relations. Much in this respect is to be found in
theseveral special objectionswith which it assailed the
Dogmatists. These occasionally discover an acute-
ness and originality which we rarely meet with in
this period. At times the Sceptics point out, clearly
and acutely enough, the weakness of the earlier
philosophy, and exhibit a critical understanding of
it, which, in an age of greater originality, might
perhaps have led to a fruitful revival of philosophi-
cal thought. In all these respects, the Sceptics are
well worthy of being studied ; for which purpose,
however, it will not be necessary to analyze the
whole mass of their arguments. For it would
evidently be of little use to repeat here the argu-
ments of the Eleata3, the Sophists, and the Megari-
ans and others, which have already been given in
their proi)er places, but which the Sceptics made
use of in their attacks upon tlie Dogmatists; or to
follow them throuuh tlunr enumeration of the dis-
sensions of the several Dogmatical schools which we
have alntady touched upon ; or, lastly, to give the
arguments, wliich, l)y their own confession, they
niixcd with their more serious arguments, with no

2DG ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

other view than to ridicule or to expose the weak-
ness of many of the Dogmatists. Accordingly we
may confine our attention to a small portion only of
their numerous arguments. Yet, in truth, it is not
always easy to determine what they intended
merely as ridicule or in earnest, and as lighter or
weightier objections, since they are not always so
distinguished by the authors themselves. When-
ever, therefore, this is the case, we must test their
reasonings by the view which they entertained of
the necessary ideas of mankind. Thus, as Sextus
himself avo^^s, it is clearly nothing more than a
mere Sceptical joke, when, on the occasion of com-
paring mankind with the irrational brutes, the
question is mooted whether in truth man is really
to be preferred to the brutes on account of his
faculty of reason. •'^^ For, in fact, the Sceptics gave
to man a real pre-eminence over other animals,
which they founded on his faculty of remembering
phenomena and their succession, and consequently
of concluding by a certain art of practice from the
suggestive signs themselves to the phenomena sug-
gested. For the same reason it would appear to be
mere raillery, when they questioned, on purely so-
phistical grounds, the possibility of instruction gene-
rally,^''^ notwithstanding that they admitted of a
certain traditionary communication of experience
and the useful arts. So, again, when they ex-
plained language, the only medium of communica-
tion, to be an impossibility, on the ground that
when the second part of a proposition is advanced,

"" Pyrrli. Hyp. i. 62, sqq.

'*'■' Adv. Math. i. 9, sqq ; Pyrrli. Hyp. iii. 252, sqq.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 297

the other has already ceased to be. And, lastly,
not to dwell too long upon such instances, we may
well consider it as a playful accessory to their gene-
ral argument when they questioned the truth of
corporeal appearances, on the ground that accord-
ing to the view which makes body to consist of
length, breadth, and thickness, which themselves
are not corporeal, the corporeal would be made up
of what is incorporeal,^^" for such doubts go beyond
the limits of what, agreeably to their view, they
designed to call in question.

On the other hand, there is much that is worthy
of consideration in the objections advanced by
the Sceptics against both the form and also the
matter of science. We have already observed that
the New Scepticism constitutes a certain degree of
intellectual jirogress in respect of its attack upon
the form of science.^" But to what we have
already advanced on this head we have much to
add, derived chiefly from the writings of Sextus, of
which, liowever, we scarcely dare to ascribe to him
the invention. By the form of science, Sextus, in
conformity with a prevalent opinion of his day,
understood the syllogism ; since, as we have often
remarked, every thought which was not demon-
strated was looked upon as one to which assent was
not obligatory. But the Sceptics had certain general
arguments against demonstration itself, which are
of little value, and manifestly belong to their raillery
or lighter arguments. Thus, for instance, demon-

"" Adv. Math. viii. 132, sqq.

'''' Adv. Math. iii. 83, sqq.; cf. Pyrrli. Hyp. ii. 30. Of like nature arc tlic
arguments thai Imdy is not sciibiiyuely iicrceptihlc. Pyrrh. Jlyii. iii. 47, »qq.;
Adv. Math. ix. 437.

298 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

stration is classed with the non-existent, on the
ground that it is composed of several thoughts, of
which the first has passed away and is no more
when the second comes to be considered ;^^^ and simi-
larly they declare that it is merely relative, and that
consequently real entity cannot be a property of it,
since the relative has no other than an ideal exist-
ence.^^^ These arguments were not ill-calculated
to lead to profounder inquiry, and thereby to assume
a deeper import; but the Sceptics, we are fully
convinced, had no suspicion of their real value.
Other arguments, on the contrary, which enter more
into the details of the syllogism, were more fruitful
and instructive. Thus, they observed, it is useless
to advance the major premiss of the categorical and
hypothetical syllogism, if it be evident that in the
middle term the higher notion is contained ; but
that if this be not acknowledged, then the inference
loses its demonstrative force.^^^ It was against the
syllogism also that they remarked of the definition
of ideas, that it must proceed into infinity, and on
that account cannot serve as a basis of knowledge
or teaching/'"'^ But the edifice of science was still
more forcibly shaken by their investigation of the
relation between demonstration and induction. In
this inquiry, their point of departure was the sen-
sualistic notions, which prevailed very generally in
their day, and to which they were themselves

152 pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 144.

'^^ Adv. Math, viii. 453. We omit to notice other still more complicated
reasonings drawn from the relativity of the syllogism, and which flow from an
erroneous idea. Vide ib. 387, sqq.; Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 174. sqq.

1^* Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 159, 163.

1" Ib. 207.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 299

strongly attached. To these, induction naturally
appears as the only means of arriving at a knowledge
of the general. Now the general may be induced,
either from all particulars, or from some only. But
the latter, which is the imperfect induction, is inad-
missible ; it is uncertain, since if a single case of
those which are omitted should deviate from the
rest, it would be sufficient to destroy the univer-
sality of the induction ; the former, on the other
hand, is impossible, since the number of the par-
ticulars which make up a general, is indeterminable
and infinite. ^'^*^ This argument must have appeared
conclusive to Sextus, inasmuch as be considered
the resolution of the general into its constituent
particulars to be also impossible, and for the
most part denied the possibility of a general, in
the proper and strict sence of the term.^" With
such opinions, it was easy enough to show the syllo-
gistic demonstration to be useless, and nothing
more than reasoning in a circle. For, they would
naturally argue, the general proposition, from which
the conclusion is to be drawn, is itself derived in
the first instance from a collection of many particu-
lars, and therefore the particular truth which is to
be inferred in the conclusion, must be j)reviously
contained among the individual cases on which the
induction itself rested ; so that it was not necessary
to deduce it, as for the first time, from the general.
When, however, tiie syllogism is employed for this
purpose, we do nothing more than establish again
the truth of a j)articular by means of the general,
which derived its own niitlioritv from the trutli of

'*« lb. ii. 195, 204. ''' 11.. ii. ?19, sriq.; A-lv. .Math. iv. 14, tt<i(j.

300 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

all the particiilars.^^^ These objections to the form of
science, were indeed well fitted to awaken attention
to the errors which prevailed on this subject ; but it is
obvious that they were formed in an age which was
incapable of adopting, otherwise than partially, the
earlier investigations of philosophy, since they were
prosecuted without regard to the doctrines of a
Plato and Aristotle, upon the independent activity
of the reason in the cognition of principles and
universals,

Apparently indeed, Sextus has fully attended to
this side also of human thought, in his investiga-
tions into the criteria of truth : when, however, we
examine them more closely, his ideas on this sub-
ject will be found to be very unsatisfactory. Indeed
we must admit in general, that his treatise, " On the
Criteria of Truth," labours under all the faults with
which we have previously charged him, and on that
account, we propose to examine it as furnishing a
fair specimen of his general method. We have
here a vast number of doubts, loosely and unme-
thodically heaped together, which are often contra-
dictory and mutually destructive. This defect is
at once apparent in the very opening of the in-
quiry. He adduces in the first place, his general
grounds of doubt, and then proceeds to the more
special, for the right appreciation of which, how-
ever, he finds it necessary to reproduce the former.
But what is still worse, after declaring it to be im-
possible that there can be any such criterium, as
accredits at once, both itself and something besides

i5« Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 195, sqq.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 301

it,^^^ he nevertheless, adopts the principle of con-
tradiction as an immediate and self-accrediting
truth,^^° which may be rightly appealed to in a re-
futation of the contradictions of the Dogmatists.
Now if the criterium of truth cannot accredit itself,
the search after truth must proceed into infinity ,^^^
and at the same time, anything like independent
activity of reason, which might serve as a basis for
scientific investigation, would be rendered impos-
sible.

But Sextus was not deterred by the weight of
these general considerations, from examining in de-
tail, every hypothesis on the subject of a criterium.
His observations on this point, are based on a
division, which leads him into a long and tedious
digression, neglecting which, we shall confine our-
selves to a few of the leading points. His division
proceeds on the principle, — the question, what can
serve for the standard of truth ? must be answered
by reference, either to the subject from whom the
judgment is to proceed, or to that by and agreeable
to which the judgment is to be made. Now the
subject who passes the judgment, is man ; that
through which he judges, either the sense or the in-
tellect ; lastly, that according to w hich is human
representation or conception. ^'^^ It is manifest, that

"" Adv. Math, vii, 4^.5. N>) Aia, &\\d 8vvarai n Knl tavrov ilvai KpiTrj-
ptov, a>f /tti rt KavovoQ Kai Kvyov lyiviro' oTTtp Lari ^f tpaKuDftf, K.r.X.

*'"' lb. viii. .34. UavTwv vvrwv dXrj^wv ^hnofxtv r« fiax^tJ^tva a\r\dij.
TOVTO ci l<7Tiv uToirov. lb. 1 1'J.

'•' I'rrh. Hyp. ii. 19, 20; iii. .3() ; Adv. Math. viii. .347.

'" Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 16. 'AX\<k Kni rb XoytKoi/ Kpirripiov Xiyoir" dv rpix'wc^
rb iiip' ov Kai rb Ct' ov Kai rb »c«^' o. olnv v<p' ov fiiv (h'0f)W7roc, h' nv yroi
aiaOr^ai^ r; Cinroia, ica3' n ct »/ irpoTl^oXt) rrjc tliavrairlag. lb. 21 ; Adv.
Matb. vii. 3.^, 261.

302 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

the first member of this division comprises the
other two, and Sextus himself confesses this, when
he remarks, that it being once admitted, that man
cannot serve as tlie criterium of truth, it is un-
necessary to look for any other criteria, since this
must be either part of man, i. e. his active or
passive states. Nevertheless, even after this con-
fession he proceeds to investigate separately, the
claims of the other members of his division, to
furnish the criterium of truth. ^^^

In discussing the question, whether man can be
the standard of truth, Sextus greatly lightens the
labour of his task by taking an antecedent objec-
tion to such an hypothesis, on the ground, that man
himself is inconceivable. ^*^^ In support of this
objection, he thinks it sufficient to appeal in his
usual manner to the obvious fact, that the Dogma-
tists were unable to give any tenable definition of
man, and that moreover, as must be manifest
enough, any such definition is the end rather than
the principle of philosophical knowledge. ^^'^ This
attack upon the Dogmatists, however unscientific,
nevertheless contains a truly critical idea, which
was directed against the carelessness of the earlier
philosophers, in not sufficiently guarding against, or
rather in some measure giving rise to, the delusion.

1G3 pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 21, 47 ; Adv. Math. vii. 2G3.

^•"^ Adv. Math. vii. 2C4. Ov yap icaraXjjTrrcie Trai/rojf t(TTlv 6 avSfpo)7rog.
(^ tTTtrai Ti]v r/Jc aXj/Stiac yj/wcriv dvtvptrov iiTrapx^iv, roii yvtopi'CovroQ
aijTiji' UKaTaXi'jTTTOv KaOiffTwrog.

^'^^ lb. 266. OvSeIq yap t/c Trpoxftpov Swan ywuxTKiaOai, rbv avOQwirov
oTToTof iariv, tl ye 6 JlvOiog ojq /.ityirnov Zv'i'ilf^n 7rpov9i]Kev ahnf to yvwdi
atavTov. el Sk Kai C({hi, ov ttckjiv, uXXu toXq aKpijit(JTUToiQ twv (piXoaoipiov
£7rirjO£i|/ft fiovov rovrov eTriaraffOai.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 303

that man is the source of philosophical thought, in-
stead of teaching;, what is the fact, that it is grounded
in an activit}' of the reason which is wholly indepen-
dent of any definition of man. Otherwise the objec-
tions which Sextus urges against their definition of
this idea, are for the most part directed against the
outer form of its exposition, and as soon as he
enters into their scientific view of human nature,
he has recourse exclusively, to the general doubts
which he ordinarily advances. Thus, when he
comes to the view which regards man as consisting
of body and soul, he attempts to refute it, b}?- ob-
serving, that according to principles previously
admitted, it is impossible to determine the nature
of body, and still less that of soul ; and in con-
firnnation of this objection, appeals to the ancient
disputes of the Dogmatists concerning the seat,
existence, and essence of the soul.^*^^

In the prosecution of this attempt to show that
man cannot attain to a right knowledge of his own
nature, Sextus proceeds to examine the organs by
which, and the conceptions according to which, all
knowledge must be formed. For, he argues, if
self-knowledge be possible, then either the whole
man must know and also be known by himself, or
a part know a part, and this again be known by
that part. The first case he at once rejects as
manifestly involving an impossibility ; if, viz., the
whole man could know himself, then would the
whole know, and nothing remain to be known ; and
on the other hand, if the man can be known wholly,

""' Pyrrli. Hyp. il. 2.'», Rf|f|. ; cf. A.lv. Math. vii. .'iir?.

304 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

then would the whole be known, and nothing re-
main to know.^^'' We propose to dwell a little on
this argument of Sextus's, as it involves one of the
most general views of his philosophy. It is clearly
grounded on the opinion which this Sceptic in-
variably avows, that every cognition implies as its
object, a something different from itself, of which
it is but the copy. It was impossible for him to
admit the idea of a self-cognizant subject ; self-cog-
nition he was forced to deny absolutely, and in his
mind there was an impassable gulf between think-
ing and being. But if he was indisposed to allow
that the whole man can know or be known by him-
self, he was not less opposed to the hypothesis, that
one part can know or be known by another. For
the parts of man are simply body, senses, and un-
derstanding. Now it is obvious, that the body can-
not know itself, or the senses, or the intellect. But
even the senses are not in a condition to know the
other parts, since in themselves they are wholly
devoid of cognizant power. For they are simply
passive, receiving impressions like wax, and know-
ing nothing beyond them, and utterly incapable of
active research. The body they cannot know,
since they have not its nature. The most that he
affirmed of them is, that they perceive whatever
accrues to body as its quality (cTu/x^t/BtjKoc) ; but
body is not a mere collection of qualities; and
even it were such, yet the senses cannot take cog-

^"^ Adv. Math. vii. 284, sqq. 'A\\' ti fxiv oXof Si' oXov 6 dvOpioTrog eavrbv
^f/roirj Kal avv Tovrifi vodlro, aiiv T(f) oXog Si oXov iavrov voe~iv oiiSiv In
tarai rb KaraXanf^avofiivov, oTTtp droTTOv. ti Se oXoq tir] to Z,rjToviifvov
i:cii <jvi> rovrtij vooTto oXoq ovv rif ^TjTtZff^ai, irdXiv ovSey a7roX{i^0>;(T£rnt

TO ZtfTOVV.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 305

nizance of any such collection, for it is not the
senses that collect or combine, but the rational
faculty.^^^ But further, even these qualities them-
selves are unperceived by the senses, for they con-
sist of a combination of parts, which pass from
a beginning through a middle to an end, but
the senses cannot produce such a composition. ^^^
Moreover, the senses are incapable of knowing
themselves, either collectively, or individually, or
mutually, since, for instance, the sight cannot see
either itself or the heariug.^''^ To these arguments,
Sextus in the usual manner of the Sceptics, adds
the further remark, that it is impossible to decide
whether the senses present to cognition an actual
impression, or nothing more than an empty con-
ception ; and he maintains, that even if this be not
the case generally, it is not easy to determine what
sensations ought to be trusted, and what rejected,
since opposites are often perceived of the same
object, and the same things are differently presented
at different times. ^'^ Such is the reasoning by
which Sextus sought to refute the opinions of the

"* Adv. Math. vii. 287.

**' lb. 293, sqq. Kae firiv ovli at aia^rjcftii;- avrai yap iraaxovai fiovov
Kai Kt{(>ov rpoTTOv Tvirovvrai, uWo £t laaaiv ovVt 'iv. . . . to ^^rfTtlv
iviityr)riK<ijQ ovk iarai lEiov avrHiv, lira irwQ diuv ri iari Sid rovrwu
KaraXrj'pOiivai rbv oyKOV ovk ixovawv Tijv <pv(Tiv ; . . . . irpwrov fiiv
ydp Icii^afitv (cf. vii. 27f$)i "rt ovdi r) Koivrj rruvodog tCjv rivi avufSifttj-
Koruv IkiIvo l(JTi TO if Tivi avfifiifttjKtv. . . . dXXd to avvriOtvai ri
fiiTa Ttvoc Kai Tb Totovdi fiiyiOog ^ito. tov TOtovSt ff^rj/iaroi; Xafifiavtiv
XoytK^C ^ff'"' Svvdfxtojc, . . . Kairui oii fiovov Triv KOivifv ovvoSov (if
ouifin voiiv IdTtv dipvt'ii (sc. »'/ o(i(t<Tir\, aWd Kai TTfwc ti)v i<daTov tUv
TovTtfi (jt'fxfitftrjKorotv KUTuXtjxpiv irtniipuTai, olov tvO'tioi; fii'iKovg. KaG
vwipGiaiv yap fiipoiv tovto XafiftavKrOai iriipvKiv cnro tivoq dpxofitvuv
t'lfiwv Kai Sid TivoQ Kai Ini Ti KaraXt}y6vTwv, ontp TTOitiv uXoyoc ^i/ffif
oi SvvuTai. lb. 344, »(\t\.

"» lb. .301, 302. ''' Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 42, sqq. ; Adv. Math. vii. .345.

IV. X

306 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

Dogmatists, that the senses are aids to knowledge.
A little ingenuity is undoubtedly shown in the
way of employing the arguments which he adduces,
but they are evidently not original ; for the germ
of them, at least, was contained in the previous
works of Plato and Aristotle.

We now come to the consideration of the third
part of man's nature, and to the question whether
it can know itself, or man, or, in short, anything
else. We shall, for brevity's sake, abandon the
order of Sextus, and comprise the whole of his
arguments in one. The view, that the understand-
ing is the cognizant principle, he holds to be in-
volved even in greater difficulties than the others
previously noticed. These difficulties, however, are
of a very general nature, and, attaching themselves
rather to the outward form than to the inner spirit,
make us doubt whether Sextus really understood
what the older philosophers meant by the notion of
understanding. If, he argues, the understanding
can know anything of man, it must be either his
body, or the senses, or itself. In the first case, the
body must impel the understanding to cognition,
and the understanding be moved by the body ; but
then as the body moves without reason, the un-
derstanding itself would be irrationally moved, i. e.
would cease to be the understanding. The same ob-
jection, he asserts, applies with equal force against the
hypothesis that the senses can be known by the un-
derstanding ; for they also are irrational ; and if they
in their proper nature are apprehended by the un-
derstanding, then the understanding must receive
into itself what is irrational, and cease to be under-

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 307

standing. In order to apprehend the senses, it
must become of the same kind with them ; and
then there would not remain anything which could
inquire, since the inquiring understanding will
have passed into that which is the object of inquiry.
It would be vain to try to get rid of this objection
by asserting that the difference between the under-
standing and the senses is not essential, being ex-
actly analogous to that between the concave and the
convex surface of a sphere ; for this explanation
does not dispose of the question, how the same
essence which is both understanding and sensation,
can, so far as it is understanding, take cognizance
of itself so far as it is sensation. ^^" The only alter-
native therefore, is to suppose that the understand-
ing is cognizant of itself; but this hypothesis is
shown to be untenable in the same way that it was
previously demonstrated, that man cannot know
himself, since in that case there would be neither a
knowing subject nor an object known. ^" These ob-
jections Sextus confirms by others drawn principally
from the mutual contradictions of the Dogmatists,
in their respective theories of the understanding.
Thus, he observes, if the understanding could know
itself, it must at least know where its proper seat is ;
for whatever is known, is known as existing in a
certain place, and consequently the place itself also
is known. If it be cognizant of itself, then must
it also know its own nature, tlie substance of
which it consists, the mode of its production,

"^ To this result, l>iit in a different form, tends tiie investigation given, Adv.
Math. vii. 359, 8f|(|.

'" Adv. Math. vii. 303, nqq.

x 2

308 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

and whatever else relates either to the principle or
mode of its existence. Now upon all these points
the Dogmatists are at issue with each other, and
there is no hope of the controversy between them
ever being decided ; indeed, it may even be doubted
whether there is any principle of understanding
different from and independent of the senses ; and
consequently, in such a state of uncertainty, it is
advisable to abstain from any positive opinion as to
the understanding and its cognition. ^'^^

In discussing the criterium of judgment, Sextus
opens the new question, whether the understanding
is able, by the help of the senses, to know the truth.
But this topic is far from profoundly investigated.
He opens it with an attempt to show the impossibility
of answering it in the affirmative, by remarking
that the senses impart to the understanding nothing
more than the impressions which they themselves
have received, not that which external objects are ;
he even doubts whether they can convey to it these
impressions on the ground which he had already
urged, that in the case of such a transmission the
understanding must change itself into sensation.
And he insists, even though it should be conceded
that sensations do resemble external objects, still
the like cannot lead to a knowledge of that which
it resembles ; and especially since it is impossible,
so long as we do not perceive the outward objects
themselves, to say wherein the resemblance lies.
But, lastly, objects give rise to opposite sensations,
and therefore if the understanding is to judge of

^7* Adv. Math, vli, 313, 348, sqq. ; Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 57, sqq.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 309

things according to the sensuous impressions it
receives of them, it must assert opposites of them/^^
Lastly come the objections which Sextus urges
against the supposition that man can judge of the
truth according to his conceptions of things. These,
so far as they have not been ah*eady noticed, must
now claim our attention. His argument is directed,
in the first place, against the usual idea of the
sensuous presentation itself. The nature of this
presentation, he says, is far from clearly determined.
By some it has been described as an image of the
external object, by others as a modification in the
soul. But the soul, according to the Stoics, who
give the former definition of sensation, is a breath,
or even something more subtle than breath ; how
then can it receive an image or impression ? But
if the latter view, which makes sensation to be a
modification of the soul, be correct, it is exposed to
all the difficulties which are involved in the very
notion of change in general. Moreover, how can
the definition of sensuous presentation, either as a
copy or change in the soul, be reconciled with the
fact, that in the succession of presentations the
earlier are not expelled and destroyed by the latter,
but, on the contrary, are preserved in the memory,
and form a treasure of ideas so valuable for the
purposes of art ? For the previous impressions
must be obscured by the subsecjuent, and the earlier
cliangc modified by the later.^^^' But he argues.

'" Adv. Math. vii. 354, sqq.; Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. C3.

■'" Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 70 ; Adv. Math. vii. 370, sq'!., 373. V.t yap Ktjpnv
rporrov rvnovrai »j "/"'X') 'PavraaTiKoif; ird(T\ovaa, t'tii rb taxarov Kirii^a
tiriaKoriitii ry nporiptf ^avratfii/,, iiairtp Kai o r^j," SiVTtpdQ (T^pay/Ooy

310 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

that even if these difficulties could be got rid of,
and it be admitted that presentation is distinctly
conceivable, still it would be unintelligible. Sen-
sation is no doubt explained as something which
takes place in the dominant part of the soul ; yet,
as has been previously shown, philosophers are
unable to agree as to the seat, the essence, and the
nature of this ruling part of the soul, and no single
opinion on this subject can be established with
certainty. ^^^ Moreover, the difficulties already
mooted here present themselves again, since the
medium of the senses is indispensable for evolving
a knowledge of things. Now if the representations
of objects resemble the sensuous impressions, they
must lie under equal difficulties in bringing things
to cognition ; and if they are not like them, then
they must be exposed to still weightier objections. ^'^^
But even granting that they are able to exhibit
objects as they really are, the same doubts affect
the presentations as the sensuous impressions —
both are equally contradictory. How then can the
true be distinguished from the false ? If every
truth must be decided by the presentation, then
must the truth of the presentation itself be judged
of according to a presentation, and this again by
another, and so on in an infinite series. ^^^ Conse-
quently all the explanations of the Dogmatists are

Tvirog kKaXeiTTTLKoc tern rov Trporipov. dX\' ti tovto, dvaipsiTai fikv
fivi'ifiT), S!i](jav(>i(Jfxbq ovaa (pavraaiwv, avaiptirai 5s iraaa rsxvr)' trvarrifia
yap i/v Kai li^poiafia Kara\ri\pi(ov. lb. 377. To vtov irdSrog dWdaasi
TO dpxaioTipov Kal o5;rwc ovk larai Karoxh tivoq irpdyfiaroq irepl rfiv
didvoiav,

1" Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 71 i Adv. Math. vii. 380.

""» Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 72; Adv. Math, vii, 381, sqq.

"^ Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 76, sqq.; Adv. Math. vii. 388, sqq.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 311

insufficient, and perpetually revolving in a circle ;
for the true representation is first explained to be
such an impression on the soul of a real object as
nothing which does not actually exist can produce;
and then a real object is defined to be one which
imparts a true representation of itself to the soul.^^°
Sextus then rejects the view, that the true repre-
sentation is the criterium, not only of the represented
object, but also of itself, on the ground that the
existence of contradictory representations necessarily
requires a distinctive criterium, which does not lie
in the representation itself, and insists that a steady
and self-evident representation can only occur in
the unwavering and self-certain soul of the sage,
although, according to the admission of the Stoics
themselves, such a sage cannot be proved to exist.^^^
Moreover, Sextus undertakes the almost superfluous
task of refuting the opinion of the New Academy,
that the representations of sense possess a sufficient
probability for the conduct of life and the discovery
of truth. He argues, tljat presentation alone is
insufficient for the riuht conduct of life, which
requires also observation and comparison. In the
cognition of truth, the authority of the sensuous
presentation is still less, however carefully it may
have been arrived at, since it is impossible ever to
feel confident that nothing has been neglected in
the process : and as the Academicians will not admit
any representation to be true, from cautious fear that
there might possibly be a false one similar to the
true ; so, according to Sextus, the same caution is
requisite in case of the merely probable. ^^^ And

"" Ailv. Matli. vii. 4*26. "" lb. 430, 8ri<|. "*' lb. 435, Bqq.

312 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

in this way any such reliance on a criterium of
truth as the Dogmatists insist upon, is asserted to
be absolutely indefensible.

We have perhaps dwelt too long upon these
arguments, inasmuch as they do not lead to any
new or interesting results. Nevertheless, they serve
to indicate the method of Sextus and his, school,
and convey an idea of the matter-of-course way in
which the philosophers of this age gave currency
to the ideas of the earlier philosophers, as so many
duly stamped but well-worn coins. And to illus-
trate this fact by means of these, appeared parti-
cularly desirable, inasmuch as the Sceptics attri-
buted great importance to their controversy on the
criteria of truth. The same method that is found
in these is discoverable in all the other labours of
the Sceptics, which therefore it would be useless to
trace out in their whole extent, especially as the
connection of the several parts is extremely loose,
and has no other foundation than the ancient divi-
sions of philosophy. ^^^ And accordingly we pro-
pose to limit ourselves to a few only of the more
special points of the doctrine.

This notice necessarily leads us back to the argu-
ments by which they supported their denial of
revealing signs. When we look at the essential
character of the Sceptical habit of thought, it is
evident that this subject would naturally attract
their attention in a pre-eminent degree ; for their
sole object was to show, that no safe and certain
conclusion can be drawn from phenomena to that
which lies concealed beyond them. The Dog-

"^ Adv. Math. viii. 323,

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUSi 313

matists, who sought to acquire a knowledge of the
non-apparent, were by the Sceptics compared to
men shooting in the dark, who may perhaps
hit the mark, but certainly cannot tell whether
they have succeeded or not.^^* Nevertheless,
the Sceptics, for an obvious reason, were unwill-
ing to^ maintain directly that no signs soever
can reveal the non-apparent. For, for purposes
of their own, they were forced to admit that words
and arguments are signs which reveal a something
wliich is concealed, the thoughts, viz. of the soul ;
and so long as they laboured to maintain the
validity of the arts of life, they could not seriously
call in question the communication of ideas by
language. While, therefore, in the domain of
history, at least, they admitted of certain revealing
signs, still they did not abstain from raising against
it those difficulties which the general idea of reve-
lation involves ; and among these we are naturally
surprised to meet with many which apply as much
to memorial as to revealing signs. Such, for in-
stance, are the objections derived from the fact that
this general idea is merely relative. For the idea
of a sign, like all other ideas of relation, is incon-
ceivable without the idea of that relatively to which
it is an object of thought ; i. e. without the idea of
the object signified. But if the sign cannot be
thougfit of without the object signified, it cannot
be truly said that the idea of that which is signified

'" Pyrrli. Hyp. ii. 130, sqq.; Adv. Math. viii. 27«, sqfi. Sec above, p. 2.'MI,
siiq. The Sceptics objected, it is true, that language itself is but a memorial
sign (Adv. Math. viii. 2U9), but still, as they could not deny the weakness of
this objection, they were forced to allow (ib. 29f!), that the reasonings of the
Dogmatists were probably not without force.

314 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

is first called forth by the signifying sign ; and yet
it is directly involved in the very idea of a sign,
that it is thought of before that which it signifies.^^'^
Sextus betrays a similar confusion of ideas when
he urges, that the revealing sign cannot be thought
of as anything sensuous, on the ground that the
sensible is at once apprehended by all men without
instruction ; whereas it is only by such an aid that
the sign can be understood, which he confesses is the
case with the memory also.^^*^ He is equally un-
willing to admit that the sign can be reckoned
among the objects of intellectual cognition ; for, he
argues, it must first be shown that such objects
exist ; but before this is proved, to require signs
for them which are not sensible would be to seek to
infinity. ^*^^ The polemic of Sextus is directed ex-
clusively against the Stoics, and consequently he
confines himself to showing the inconsistency of
their doctrine on this point. Through this part of
his labours it is unnecessary for us to follow him.
He was justified, no doubt, in appealing to the fact,
that every sign must be manifest, and therefore
come into appearance in order to reveal what is
hidden, but that the non-sensible does not belong
to the manifest.^^^ But when he further argued
that there cannot be such a thing as a revealing
sign, because the sign can neither be sensuous nor
yet an object of intellectual cognition, he here
posited the contrariety of the sensuous and the
intellectual, in all the rigour in which it was under-

1"^ Adv. Math. viii. IC3, sqq.. Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 117, sqq.

'*"' Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 225, sqq. ; Adv. Math. viii. 203, 204, 242.

'"" Adv. Math. viii. 257. "« Pyrrh. Hyp. ii. 128.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 315

Stood by his contemporaries, without the slightest
attempt to set forth and elucidate what is mutual and
common to the two members of this contrariety.

If in the discussion of these questions the Sceptics
touched upon a point wdiich an age more distin-
guished for profound and original thought would
have taken up immediately and fully elucidated,
this was likewise the case with their investigations
on cause and effect. We have already observed
that iEnesidemus had specially occupied himself
with this subject, and that the uncertain and im-
perfect state of our historical records alone prevents
us from determining with accuracy the exact
amount of his labours on this head, and the addi-
tions of 'his successors. The doubts which he raised
against the Dogmatical doctrine of cause and effect
fall readily under two heads ; one class being de-
signed to show that the Dogmatists were unable to
indicate the causes of particular cases; the other to
refute their general doctrine of cause and effect.
The first class of objections he has in his usual
manner reduced to several leading divisions, in
which the several exceptions are grouped together
in very loose connection. ^^'^ Thus he urges, that
tlie usual explanations of j>henomena by their
several assigned causes are but so many particular
suppositions as to the nature of the elements, and
not general reasons universally acknowledged ; that
the definitions they give do not always agree with
phenomena, and that such cases alone are brought
forward as will S(juare with the definitions, while all

*'^'' They are given briefly, but not always very accurately. I'ynh. 11 \ [i. i. liiO,
s.|<i.

316 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

exceptions are silently neglected, and that fre-
quently phenomena which are of regular recurrence
are referred to extraordinary causes, and that not
unfrequently explanations are advanced in open
contradiction with the opinions of their authors.
He further reproaches the Dogmatists with seeking
to account, by a single cause, for phenomena which
admit of a variety of explanations, and with admit-
ting what experience can never justify, known
phenomena by unknown causes, or with assigning
known causes to unknown events. ^^" And lastly,
he advances a suspicion that in all probability the
hidden causes do not proceed in a course analogous
to the manifest phenomena,^^^ and by this objection
throws a doubt upon the general principle of the
Dogmatists, that the effects must correspond to their
causes.

But the objections which the Sceptics took to the
idea of causality in general, are much more serious
than all these attacks upon the special explanation
of phenomena. Accordingly we cannot but regret
that our authorities on this head do not enable us
to follow any certain method in our exposition of
these doubts, and that we must consequently be con-

^^° It is thus, though certainly not with confidence, that I distinguish between
the first and eighth ground of Scepticism. The following are the words of Sextus :
'Qv TrpwTov fiiv ilvai (ptjaiv, KaO' ov rpoTrov to TTJg atnoXoyiag ytvog iv
d(pavt(Tiv ava(yrpc<j>6fitvov ov\ bfioXoyovfi'tvriv txd Tt)v ik t(ov ^aivoixkvwv
iirijxapTVQrfaiv • .... oy^oov, KaO' ov noWuKLQ bvTwv diropwv ofioiwQ
ToJv Tt (paiveffOai SoKOVvrojv Kai tuiv tTn'CrtTovfx'tvwv Ik ruiv bfioiwQ
cnropujv iripi twv biioi.u)Q cnrbpwv -koiovvtui rag biSaffKaXiag.

^'' lb. 182. TtrapTov, KaG' ov to. <paiv6fiiva XajSovng (jjg yivirai, Kai
rd fjirj ^aivofitva vojii^ovcnv uQ yivtrai KartiX-q^svaiy rdx<t- fiiv bfioiwg
roTg (paivofi'evoi^ tuiv a<pavu)V eTTiTtXovfiivtuVf Taya S' ovx bfioiwg, dXX'
loia^ovTwg.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 317

tent to give the spirit without the form in which
they were originally conveyed. They relate partly
to the idea of causal connection, partly to the con-
siderations which are necessary to such a connec-
tion. They touched upon, it is true, the question
whether the incorporeal can be the cause of aught
either incorporeal or corporeal, but merely in order to
be able to answer it briefly in the negative ; which
they did partly on very general reasons, and partly on
the assumed impossibility of the incorporeal either
touching or being touched by aught, and thereby of
being either active or passive. ^^^ In this objection
it is evidently implied that the contact of two bodies
is the necessary condition of causal connection.
But the Sceptics argue, two bodies can never come
into contact, for at most they only touch at their
limits, i. e. their surfaces : the bodies themselves do
not touch, but their surfaces only. But the contact
of surfaces even is impossible; for if they touch,
the touching limits or surfaces would unite, but the
union of the limits is not contact. ^^^ vSimilar objec-
tions on the same ground are in the next place
taken to tlie supposition of any mixture of bodies ;^^*
of their augmentation by addition, or diminution by
subtraction; and, lastly, of any change of their quali-
ties. These objections are evidently based on tlie as-
sumption that the simple elements of corporeity are
unchangeable, and that it is only by a transposition,

*" Adv. Math. ix. 21 G. To rt ydf> noiovv Oiyitv i^iiXii t7jq iraaxoifftfc
UXtjCj iva TTOtr/Ty 7/ rt iraaxovaa vXt} OixOijvai dipeiXei, 'iva ndOy to
li udiofiaTov ovTi ^iynv ovTt Oix^)i\vai ir't(pvKi, roivvv ovti auftii dnw-
fiarov n aawfxarov aw/iaTug tariv aiTiov. i". ~^o, __4.

"' Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 42, B(i(\.; Atlv. Math. iii. 70, sqq.; ix. 258, 8(]q.

»»* Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. .56, Mjq.; cf. Adv. Math. ix. 25G.

318 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

compression, or an enlargement of these that any
effect can be produced on the bodies composed of
them.^^'' It is clear, therefore, that the main stay
of this later phasis of Scepticism is the material
and mechanical theory of nature.

The investigation of the Sceptics into the notion
of causal connection absolutely, is more profound
than their special objections to the physical expla-
nations of the Dogmatists. We must not be under-
stood, however, as giving this character to those
parts of it which touch upon the general question of
becoming, for here the arguments are derived,
almost without exception, from old authors, and for
the most part very trite ; such as that two things
cannot come out of one, nor three out of two;^^^
and, again, that a matter cannot come into being,
neither when it does not already exist, nor even
when it does. For such arguments had long before
been amply discussed ; whereas there is much in
their analysis of the mutual relation of cause and
effect, which demands our attention and profound
respect for this subject, that had never before been
fully examined, and was only imperfectly touched
upon even by Aristotle himself.

The first questions which here present themselves
are those which arise out of the similarity and
the dissimilarity of the cause and the effect. The
general ideas of the Sceptics on this subject are
grounded on the view that a thing cannot produce
an effect which does not lie within its proper nature,
and is foreign to it ; that, for instance, a horse can-

195 Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 82, sqq.; Adv. Math. ix. 278, sqq.
''■"^ Adv. Math. ix. 220.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 319

not be produced from a tree, nor a man from a horse.
But now if a thino- cannot effect auQ-ht but that which
is in its own nature, then nothing new, no effect,
properly speaking, can ever result from it, but every
thing must remain the same as it was before.^^''
Of this argument the Sceptics made several other
applications, and especially drew from it a subtle
objection to the possibility of arriving at a know-
ledge of causal connection, even if it be itself
possibly known. If, they argue, one tiling can
really be the cause of another, one of the follow-
ing cases must take place; either the quiescent
must be the cause of the quiescent, or the moved
of the moving, or a moved cause produce a qui-
escent result, or a quiescent a moved effect. The
two latter cases they reject, simply on the general
principle, that like can only produce like/"*® Their
adoption of the mechanical physiology, doubtless
indisposed the Sceptics from .wasting more words
on the subject. The first two, on the other hand,
required a more careful examination, since they
were supported by the general belief that a moving
body can impart its motion to another at rest, and
a quiescent one, its rest to another in motion. But,
against this belief, the New Sceptics alleged the
similarity necessary to be supposed in every causal
connection, and insisted that this prevents such a
relation existing between them, since the cause of
the result in either case might as well be referred
to the one as to the other. This remark is undoubt-
edly not new ; still this application of it by the
Sceptics, made to prove that the cause can never be

*" lb. 225, 226, 230. »'• lb. 2;i0.

320 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

known, appears to be original. ^^^ Thus they held that
if two bodies be together in motion or at rest, it is
impossible to say which is the cause and which the
effect. When a man by treading inside turns a
wheel, it may as well be said that the wheel turns
the man as the contrary ; and so also of a column
that supports a rafter, it may with equal truth be
said, it is held at rest by, as that it holds the rafter
at rest.

In all these arguments the ruling hypothesis is,
that cause and effect must be contemporaneous ;
and this, by the Sceptics, is supported by grave
considerations, which, however, only furnish occa-
sions for further doubts. That the cause cannot be
posterior to the effect is, they argue, self-evident ; but
it is equally impossible that the effect should be sub-
sequent to the cause, for if the cause be anterior to
the effect, it must remain for a while deprived of its
effect; but a cause without an effect, or a cause
which is not efficient, is inconceivable. And if
again the effect be later than the cause, then it
would exist when its cause no longer existed, i. e.
it would be an effect without a cause, which is
equally inconceivable. But generally both cause
and effect are correlative, and therefore must of
necessity be co-existent.^°° Now this point being

^'^ Adv. Math. ix. 227, sqq. To /xiv ovv /xevov r(p ji'ivovri fiovijg kui to
Kivovfitvov Ti^ Kivovfi'iv<{) Kivy}<nwQ OVK av airiov {jTrap^oi ^t' airapaWa-
^iav. afKborkpujv yap iTriarjg fiivovrwv f; d^^ortptui' kut laov kivov-
fteviov ov /uaXXov ToSt Tt^de spovixev dvat a'lnov fiovijr koI KivrjatuQ »}
ToOe r(pSe.

^^ lb, 234. Oii^£ TO irpoTcpov St sarai tov 'iiffrepov ytvontvov jroii/rt-
leov. ti yap irt lari to alriov, oiittoj Ioti to ov iffriv airtov, ovSk iKtivo
in a'iriov tern, fir) ixov ro, ov uktiov icTTiv • ovrt Toiiro in CLTTorkXtafia

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 3"21

once established, another difficulty of no less force
arises, from the conception of the cause being at one
and the same time with the effect. For as both
cause and effect, if they be contemporary, must
have the same existence, why, in that case, ought
one rather than the other be considered the efficient?
If the cause is to produce the effect, but that which
becomes be produced by what is already in exist-
ence, then the so-called cause must itself become a
cause before it can produce the effect.^°^ As then
the cause cannot be anterior to, nor contemporary
with, nor even subsequent to the effect, it must be
wholly inconceivable.

The difficulty which is here urged against the
possibility of conceiving cause and effect as contem-
porary, arising from the equal reality of both, again
recurs in another and, we think, clearer form. The
idea of causal connection implies, as a fundamental
hypothesis, that the cause is active and the effect
passive, but that nevertheless they are necessary
conditions of each other. Now this hypothesis may
itself be called in question ; j^et if we do so, difficul-
ties will arise which compromise the very idea of
causal connection and its application to details.
For if tlic cause produces its effect by the mere
exertions of its own energy, without respect to any
passivity, then it is hard to say why the cause is

fir] aiifiTrapovrog nvnp tov, ov cnroTiXKTfxa irrri. tu)v ytlp ttjioc ti tKart-
pov tan rovTwv Kui tu Trpog rt (car' iivayKrjv ill avvvTriipxti-v aXX'/Xoif .
Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 25, b(\<\.

*>* Arlv. Math. ix. 2.13; Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 27. 'AW' oiiSk avvvijiiffTaaOai.
li yap awoTeXiaTiKov avrov icrri, to ff yivofitvov vtto ovtoq I'lft] yivfcrOai
XpVf irpoTtpov ill TO a'lTiov ytviaOai alriov, tW ovruic Troulv t6 Atto-
TtKufftu.

IV. Y

322 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

not incessantly operating, since it is itself alway?,
and bears in itself its proper energy, and conse-
quently there is no reason why it should sometimes
work and sometimes not.^°^ But still more inexpli-
cable is it that an object can operate differently at
different times, and even occasionally produce
opposite results ; for if, according to its proper
nature, it operates either variably or uniformly,
then must it always operate in the same manner,
whether it be uniformly or variably. But now the
contrary is often found to be the case ; the sun for
instance, burns at one time, at another warms; at
one time merely gives light, at another hardens, at
another melts ; we must therefore suppose that
causes operate simply in obedience to their relation
to the objects on wdrich they produce their effects,
i. e. to the passive matter. ^°^ But this supposition
also involves great difficulties ; for if the active and
passive can be only conceived of as such when
taken together, they in fact constitute but a single
thought, however it may require to be expressed by
two terms ; and the passive is not really different

'"^ Adv. Math. ix. 237. Kat fxr)v ei itrri ri alnov, 1)701 avrortXiug Kai
iSig, fiovoT) Trpoaxpi^n^vov Svvafiti rivog iffriv ainov, fj avvtpyov irpbg
TovTO SeiTai rfjg iraaxovorig v^'nQi uiore to cnroTiXeafia Kara, koivtjv
dfiiporepdjv voilcOai avvoSov, ical el fiev avToreXwg Kai ldi(} Trpoaxpti^fiivov
Svvdfiti TTOitlv Ti ire^vKEv, w<pti\t Sid Travrbg tavrb ixop Kai ri]v iSiav
Svvafiiv TTCLVTOTE TTOulv TO diroTiXtajia Kai firi k^' litv fttv ttouXv, i(p' wv
Si dirpaKTtiv.

-°* lb. 24(j, sqfi. "En t'l laTi to aiTiov, tjtoi ixiav ix^i Triv Spaari]-
piov Svvajxiv ri voWdg. . . . fiiav [liv yap ovk ix^i- Svvafiiv, iTTtimp ti

fiiav fixiv, (ixpeiKi irdvTa bfioiutg SiariQivai Kai fit) Sia(p£p6vru)g

Kai firjv oiiSi TroXXa^) *""£! txpfjv 7rd(raig jtti irdvrwv ivtpytlv

vai, dW iuoQaai irpbg tovto VTTorvyxdvtiv oi CoyfiuTiKoi XkyovTtg^ on
Trapd TO. TrdffxovTa Kai tu Siacrr-ijuaTa 7rf(pVKtv k^aXXdafftadai tu ywo-
Htva uTTo Tov ainov alriov dTrortXk^iiaTa.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 323

from the active. For the passive, in so far as with-
out it no power to act resides in the active, pos-
sesses action as much as the active, and it is not so
much the active that produces the effect as the con-
currence of both the active and the passive, and it
is therefore unreasonable to give the name of cause
to one alone and not to both together.^"* This
objection probably appeared the more forcible, the
more the Stoics had insisted on the necessity of dis-
tinguishing the passive matter from the active cause.
And it does not seem a far-fetched conjecture to
suppose that this Sceptical remark, if it be rightly
ascribed to ^nesidemus, was designed to favour his
own Pantheistic tendency.

As the Sceptics adopted the view of the Stoics
that God is the supreme cause,^°° the doctrine of the
existence and notion of God is closely connected
with the investigation into the idea of causal con-
nection. We therefore propose to notice in this
place the views of the Sceptics on this point, in
order to show in what light they understood this
highest problem of philosophy. The variety of
opinions on the nature of God which the Grecian
philosophy had advanced, naturally furnished the
Sceptics with an occasion for manifold doubts;
nevertheless, their general habit of thought probably
disposed them to ascribe a certain weight of autho-
rity, if not of conviction, to tlie universal belief of all

*" lb. 240. Ei yap rb iripov -Kpoq np tTtptf) voilrai, ov rb fitv TTotovv,
TO li irarryov, iarai fiia /ikv tvvoia, SvoXv S' dvo/iaruv rtv^irat, rov rt
TTOiovvrnt; • Kui rov 7racT;^ovrog, Kui Cta tovto oi'j ftaWov Iv auT<f) i) Iv
Tip Xfyofii-v^) ndtrxitv lyKtiatrai d) Cpnori'ifnoi; Evi'afitc, lb. 2.'>1. Outw
Si aroiTov tu Lk itvvoSov Ivolv yivofitvov «7r()r/A»(T/irt //;) ro(f ^vtrip
avariOfvaiy np Si iTipift fiovif) Trpoff/xaprvf^Jiv.

*''- Pyrrh. IIjp. iii. 2. ^parrriKMrnTot' alrioj'.

Y 2

324 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

nations, that the gods rule over mankind. ^°*^ This
deference to general opinion was perhaps also the
motive for the caution wherewith they sought to
avoid the suspicion of impiety, by asserting that
practically they believed and honoured the gods,
although theoretically they felt themselves com-
pelled to point out the doubts to which the hasty
reasonings of the Dogmatists had exposed the sub-
ject.^'^' Now these doubts were drawn, almost with-
out exception, from the difficulties in which the mind
is involved as soon as it proceeds to treat of the idea
of God by the standard of its other notions and
conceptions; and in the exposition of these diffi-
culties, and especially in their refutation of the
Stoical theory, the arguments they employed were
such as had been already advanced for the same
design. Now in the management of this contro-
versy, the first object was, to controvert the doctrine
that God is a living essence, by pointing out the
difficulties it involved. Accordingly they argue, if
a divine being exist, he must be either finite or in-
finite. But he cannot be infinite, for in that case
he would be immovable, and consequently without
a soul, for the infinite has no space beyond itself
wherein it can move ; and it has neitlier centre nor
extremities from which and to which the ensouling
force can move and attacli itself. But it is equally
impossible to suppose the divine being to be finite;
for the finite would be a part of the infinite, and
consequently less than it, but the deity cannot be
conceived of as less than any other entity. ^°^ So, too,

»°* See especially. Adv. Math. ix. 30, sqq.; 40, 42.

207 Pyrrh. Hyp. iii 2. *^ Adv. Math. ix. 148, sqq.

SCEPTICS. SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 325

God cannot be thought of either as corporeal or as
incorporeal, but besides these two there is no third
term. He cannot be incorporeal, for the incor-
poreal is without soul or sensation, and is without
capacity to effect anytliing ; and, on the other hand,
the consideration of corporeal things forbids us to
think of God as corporeal. For the corporeal is
either compounded of the elements, or else simple
and elementary. If it be composite, it must admit
of resolution, and therefore be perishable ; but, on
the other hand, if it be simple, then it must be either
fire, or air, or water, or earth, all of which is incon-
sistent with the notion of God, because these ele-
ments are without soul and reason.^°^ In this
manner did the Sceptics attempt to refute the
Stoical doctrine of God, appealing to the Stoics
themselves against the doctrine of the incorporeity
of God, and to general experience of the elements
against his corporeity.

There are other objections applying to points of
the Stoical doctrine of God, of a character still
more special. On the authority of Carneades, the
Sceptics observed that if God must be considered
to be a living being, in tliat case, senses must be
ascribed to him, which must be ratlier more than
less in number than those of man, in order tliat liis
perception of things may be the more perfect. But
uj)()n the hypothesis that God possesses sensuous
organs, many contradictions ensue, wliich may in
general be resumed in tiiis, that sensations cannot
be thought of witliout a corres])onding cliange of

"' 11). IM, iftd, lai.

326 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

the sentient subject ; but such a change cannot be
imputed to God, since he would then be subject to
a change for the worse, and therefore to destruction
even.^^° Moreover, God must be thought of as a
perfectly happy living being ; and since felicity is
impossible without virtue, therefore every virtue
must be ascribed to him ; but how can such virtues
as temperance, and fortitude, or courage, &c., be
ascribed to God who has no desires, or pains, or
fears to control ?^"

Of all these objections it may be said, that they
are mainly directed against the outward form, in
which the idea of God was conceived or exhibited,
both generally and by the Stoics especially, but
that there is not one of which a refutation might
not readily have been found in the earlier writings
of Plato and Aristotle. On one point alone was
the earlier philosophical doctrine of God attacked
in such a way, as, upon due consideration, was cal-
culated to overthrow the more ancient view. This
relates to the doctrine of a divine providence.
The necessity of universal providence embracing
all the special cases of mundane existence was
maintained almost universally by the Dogmatists.
With good reason did the Sceptics attack the op-
posite opinion, by showing that it would imply a
want of power or benevolence in God, if he did not
provide specially for all.^^^ But on the other side, a
forcible objection presented itself, drawn from an
attentive consideration of the actual state of things
in the world, and especially as it appeared to the

■■'I" lb. 13.0, sqq. '" lb. 152, sqq.

"i" Pyrrh. Hyp. iii. 10.

SCEPTICS, SEXTUS EMPIRICUS. 327

eyes of the ancients. Who can deny that evil,
both moral and physical, exists in the world ? It
is admitted on all sides ; all is full of evil. Now
of such God cannot be the cause, and therefore he
cannot be regarded as ruling all things by his pro-
vidence.^^^ The Sceptics felt the full force of this
objection. They sedulously availed themselves of
it, in order to retort upon their opponents the re-
proach of impiety. For, they argued, whoever
inhesitatingly admits the existence of a God, must
either make God the cause of evil, by extending his
providence over all ; or else, by limiting or alto-
gether denying his providence, hold him to be
either capricious or powerless. But such opinions
are manifestly impious. In the Graeco-Oriental
philosophy, as we shall presently find, investiga-
tions of a similar nature were leading to new views
of the relation between God and the universe ; and
the fact that no attention was paid to the latter by
the Sceptics, is a proof of the entire devotion to
Romo-Grecian ideas, and in general of the degree
of isolation, in whicli the different elements of civi-
lization were separately cultivated. ^^"^

We have now indicated whatever was peculiar to
the Sceptics, and characteristic of their distinctive
method of treating establislied doctrines. It is not

*" lb. 'J. 'AXX' ti fiiv ndvTinv npovoti, ovk ijv uv ovrt kukSv ri, ovrt
KUKia iv riii K()(jfinr KOKiai; ^4 ttuvtu fitard ilvaiXtyovaiv vvk dpa navriov
TTpovoHv Xix'yrjiTtrui <> Jtof;,

"* lb. 12. ' Ek S^ TovTwv l:7ri\oyiK6fii9a,'6Ti Uidi: Aaifiuv dtvayKii^ovrai
ol liaPifiaiioTiKoiQ XiyovTtQ tlvai 3{6v. ndvT<t)v fiiv y(tf> (tinbv npnvuiiv
\iyovTiz KdKuiv (iiTiov riiv ^tdv tlvai ipijaovaiv. riviov H »"; ifq^tvix; rrpo-
vouv ainbv Xtyovric yrot. fidiTKavoi> rbv ^tiv j) drrOtvii Xiyiiv dvayKaaOij-
aovrai. ravra Si lariv ihifiovvTitiv TrpoSiiXojg.

328 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

necessary to enter further into details. On the
whole, their philosophy has but slight pretension
to greater merit than any of the Dogmatical theo-
ries of an Eclectical character, which were contem-
porary with it. What distinguishes the New
Scepticism from these, is merely a clearer con-
sciousness of the invalidity of the scientific
elements which were disseminated in the general
civilization of their age. This conviction was the
result of their having taken a more complete sur-
vey of the valuable results of earlier inquiry than
the Dogmatists ever dreamed of, and consequently,
of their being able to place in a stronger light, the
inconsistencies in which the several schools were
involved. But if the Sceptics had the advantage
in this respect, they were, on the other hand, by a
natural consequence of their more extensive know-
ledge, far inferior to the Dogmatists in profound
and accurate perception of the true import of the
earlier philosophical doctrines. For the desire of
the Sceptics, to bring the particular doctrines
of the several schools into collision with each
other, disqualified them to seize the true spirit, and
contexture, and general tendency of the several
systems. Whatever, therefore, of truth they in-
dividually possessed, fell into the back ground of
the Sceptical picture, and failed to effect that
degree of conviction, which, if seriously examined,
it was calculated to produce. With those minds
which are incapable of mastering the manifold
directions of scientific inquiry, and to discover their
real agreement amid their apparent discrepancies,
varied and extensive information is inevitably a

SCEPTICS. 329

source of superficial smattering. This was the
case with most of the learned men of this period,
but it is i the writings of the Sceptics that it is
most strikingly apparent. On this account we
cannot feel surprised, that their objections against
the Dogmatists were of so little avail, as scarcely
at any time to have awakened attention. Even the
points on which the Sceptics were really victorious,
they scarcely understood ; at all events they did
not make the best use of them. Like generals,
unable to profit by their victories, as soon as they
had successfully contested any point, they immedi-
ately abandoned it. When the Sceptics had
refuted a particular question on general grounds,
they placed so little confidence in their own refuta-
tion, that they immediately began to consider anew
all the special applications of the general principle.
Moreover, their weightiest arguments were strangely
mixed up with the most worthless subtleties and
perversions of language. We cannot give them
any credit for honesty, earnestness of purpose, and
right insight into the grounds of their Scepticism.
In short, we may well question whether they were
even honest and serious in their doubts. We have
seen that tliey ascribed to man the power of work-
ing out and establishing certain useful arts of life ;
these they wished not to disturb, and it is only
when they pass l^eyond the domain of the sensible,
that they would forbid man to confide in liis |)owers
of cognition and knowledge. Nevertheless, the
doubts of th(; Sceptics go far to undermine the
roinKlafions, even of tlic useful arts and practical
bi;iii(li(s of science. But at tlie same time, some-

330 ERUDITE PHILOSOPHY.

thing like a conviction of the validity, and a pretty
strong belief in their own general principles,
glimmers through the loose and unmethodical ex-
position of their Scepticism. They are, therefore,
nothing less than Dogmatists of a more limited
character than those whom they seek, to refute ; and
their contest with their opponents is merely about
the greater or the less degree of certainty. Ac-
cordingly their labours did not exercise that influ-
ence which is the usual result of Scepticism, and
they failed to furnish a powerful counteraction to
the prevailing directions of thought, and thereby
to prepare a new development of science.

PART I.— SECTION II.

ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY, AND ITS INFLUENCE
ON THE GRECIAN.

CHAPTER V.

INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

If we again return to a consideration of the
philosophical doctrines of the Hindoos, it is rather
with the view of pointing out a deficiency in our
historical knowledge, than with a hope of filling up
the chasm. It is a thankless task to attempt to
elucidate a matter of which our authentic know-
ledge is very imperfect, and on which every day
almost throws a new light. It would, no doubt, be
better to wait for more complete information.
Nevertheless, when we have entered on the history
of any subject, we ought to endeavour to portray
it as correctly as possible, and for this end, avail
ourselves of every means, however incomplete,
which may furnish any information calculated to
illustrate its mysteries, and to explain the means
by which it attained to its ultimate character. Al-
though it may probably happen that the opinions,
whicii in tlie present obscurity of our subject, we
advance to day, will be refuted to-morrow, we,
nevertheless, cannot forbear passing judgment on

332 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

a matter, however obscure, which is properly
brought under our notice, and falls within the im-
mediate sphere of our labours. Thus the Indian
philosophy has an irresistible claim on our atten-
tion ; both because it is the only one by which we
can hope to^form an idea of the Oriental philosophy
in general, and also because it is undeniable, that
Oriental ideas exercised a considerable influence on
the philosophy of this period. What properly con-
stitutes the Eastern character of thought, or at least
its ultimate tendency, cannot, in our opinion, be
better shown than by the several systems of Indian
philosophy.^ Tlie term Oriental, iiowever, has so
often been employed in a loose and indeterminate
sense, that we must, in the first place, attempt,
however imperfectly, to fix its meaning.

Modern investigations, and particularly those of
Colebrooke, have placed beyond question, the fact of
the systematic development of Indian philosophy.
Even though in the exposition of the essence and
import of science, it may exhibit a less accurate
classification of ideas than the Grecian philosophy
does, its various systems, nevertheless, deserves to
be compared with the latter ; and if it attracts our
attention in a less degree, this is only because
its ideas have not entered in such extensive and
therefore influential combinations into the present
levelopment of science. We cannot, therefore,
but lament that the information on this point,
which has hitherto been furnished by those ac-
quainted with Indian literature, should be quite

* Transactions of the R. Asiatic Society, vol. i. p. 19—43, 92—118,
439—466, 549—579 ; vol. ii. 1—39.

GENERAL VIEW. 333

inadequate to furnish more than an approximate
estimate of the intrinsic vahie of Indian philosophy.
Or, perhaps, wliat we really ought to regret is, that
the mode in which the Indian philosophy was first
propagated and ultimately reduced to writing, was
little calculated to exhibit the movement of ideas to
which it originally owed its existence. For an
extended acquaintance with the philosophical
writings of the Hindoos, daily establishes more com-
pletely the fact, that they consist of little more than
a collection of aphorisms with accompanying com-
mentaries. Of the former we may observe, that
they are but so many results apart from the investi-
gation by which they were obtained, while the
latter as they are very recent, dating long subse-
quently to our era, are justly open to the doubt,
whether or not they exhibit the true origin of the
olden doctrines and the first principles of their
development. The aphorisms themselves are
doubly open to suspicion. Of these it may be
urged, that either they belong to a later age, and
were intended to form a brief compendium of the
ancient wisdom, smilar perhaps to that which
Alcinous has furnished us with in the case of the
Platonic ])hilosophy, or that, if original, they were
composed merely as manuals of philosophy by the
founders of the several schools, who reserved to
themselves the task of orally explaining the
grounds on which the several axioms ultimately
rested. The imperfect state of our kTiowlcdge of
the primary sources, disal)les us from deciding
between these two hypotheses, and we shall there-
fore only observe that the high estimation in which

334 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

the Indians held oral instruction, affords some sup-
port to the latter opinion.^

The several systems of Indian philosophy are
divided by Colebrooke into those which are agree-
able to the doctrines of the Vedas, and those which
are irreconcilably opposed to them. To the latter
belong principally the doctrines of the Buddhists
and D'Schinists, and other sects, such as that of
the Tscharvaka, the Sivaites, and some Vischnuites.
The accounts, however, which he gives of these
schools are very vague, and for the most part drawn
from pretended refutations of them by their adver-
saries. Another and a still more essential difference
appears to exist between them. The Vischnuites
and the Sivaites, for instance, move nearly in the
same paths as the sects which are considered ortho-
dox, or semi-orthodox. Of the Sivaites, Hindoo
writers themselves admit that they have borrowed
largely from the Sankya ; and, apparently, their
system amounts to nothing more than a simplifi-
cation of this philosophy;^ while the Vischnuites,

' Several of the aphorisms or memorial verses are ascribed to the founders
of the schools. But without commentaries they are unintelligible, and have
been supposed to be the interpolations of commentators. Colebr. 1. 1. i. p. 93 ;
ii. p. 5, G. The later Indian philosophy has hardly remained free from Eclecti-
cism. The same persons are sometimes commentators of different systems.
lb. p. 22, 23. Such an Eclectical procedure has been ascribed to works even
which have the character of great age. Lassen Gymnosojihista, vol. i. Fasc. i.
p. 11. Atque obiter hoc monco summa cum cautione utendum esse explica-
tionibus, cjuae a recentioribus philosophicorum lilirorum enarratoribus propo-
sitse sunt, praasertim in eis libris, qui doctrinam profitentur aut minus ortho-
doxam, veluti Sankhyici.aut ad certam quandam scholam non accommodandam,
quales sunt libri Bhagavadgita, Maimis leges, bisque antiquiores Upanishades.
What Colebrooke says of the Bhagavad Ghita Transact vol. ii. p. 3.0. seems to
lead to the same conclusion.

' Colebr. 1. 1. p. 569, 570, 571, 572. According to Wilson even the Sivaites
are pre-eminently orthodox, and followers of the Vedanta. Asiat. Res. xvii.
p. 171, 174.

DIVISIONS AND SECTS. 335

again, are regarded by the Hindoos as only par-
tially heterodox.^ The dogmas of the Tscharvakas,
on the contrary, directly contradict all the funda-
mental doctrines of every orthodox and semi-ortho-
dox sect, since they teach an unqualified sensualism
and materialism, and make the nature of the soul
to be corporeal. ° The same cannot, however, be
asserted so decidedly of the Buddhists and the
D'Schinists. Nevertheless, they are, by their
religious faith, and the difference of their general
views, as shown in an earlier part of our labours,®
widely separated from the orthodox believers of the
Brahmannic schools. But into these heterodox
sects we do not propose to enter, since our acquaint-
ance with their doctrines is too imperfect to make
us determine their character with any certainty.'
Some of them, indeed, the Vischnuites and the
Tscharvaites for instance, appear to have a very
doubtful claim to the title of a philosophical school.
These matters we must therefore be content to
leave to further investigation.

But even with regard to the other Indian doc-
trines, our inquiries must be confined to what in
our judgment is most indubitable and most im-
portant. Contenting ourselves, therefore, with
pointing out the general tendency of the doctrines,
and the course of in(juiry which they indicate in

* lb. 575, 577. » lb 567. • Vol. i. p. .04, sqq.

' Fuller's accounts of the D'Schinists have lately been |)nbliwlie(I liy Wilson.
Asiat. Res. xv.. p, 2C2, 8f|f|. Nevertheless, we cannot allow ourselves to enter
more at length into this doctrine, because it in apparently certain that they
belong to a later age than it is our business at present to consider. Wilson
places its rise in the sixth and seventh century of our era, but makes its im-
portitnce to be nt least two centuries later. lb. ?f11, &c.

336 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

general, we shall be compelled to neglect much of
what, although it is known to us indeed as a simple
result, we are yet, by the fragmentary nature of all
the notices of it that we possess, disqualified to
determine the true spirit and import as a necessary
member of the entire development.^ Such as are
convinced that the essence of philosophy lies not
so much in special investigations as in general
principles and tendencies, must regret that our
knowledge of Indian philosophy seldom reaches to
these points.

The division which Colebrooke gives of these
systems into orthodox and heterodox, appears to us
to rest on a very partial consideration. It is evi-
dently taken from the Mimansa, which claims the
character of being pre-eminently orthodox, and
objects to all others, that whenever they differ from
itself they depart from the true faith. It is very
probable that this objection was retorted by the
other sects. ^ For although the Mimansa, in all its
principles ostensibly appealed to tlie authority of
the Vedas, it was nevertheless forced to have re-
course to very free expositions of the sacred writings,
in order to reconcile the authority of the Vedas
with its own doctrines. In this respect the
Mimansa is not otherwise distinguished from other
sects, except perhaps by the greater frequency of

• Not only the memoirs of Colebrooke, but even the works of the Hindoo
philosophers themselves, contain a multitude of divisions for which no grounds
are given. They must therefore be for the most part neglected by the history
of philosophy, so long as we are unable to point out their mutual connection.

' I must here confess that I am not always consistent in my orthography of
Sanscrit terms.

DIVISIONS AND SECTS. 337

its appeals to the Vedas ;^° for those which are
styled heterodox are equally zealous for the autho-
rity of these sacred writings. In confirmation of
their own views, they frequently adduce passages of
the Vedas, of which, however, for this purpose,
they never scruple to the most forced and arbitrary
interpretations. And here we must not omit to
observe, that it is a very erroneous opinion which
regards the philosophy of the Indians simply as a
compilation of their religious doctrines and opinions.
The former, undoubtedly, are in close connection
with the latter, but not closer than that which is
occasionally found to exist between the philosophy
and polytheism of Greece, or that between our
Christian philosophy and the articles of our faith.
This fact we should be able to demonstrate more
clearly, if we possessed a more precise knowledge
of the heretical systems of the Indians. And, on
the other hand, the very fact that the orthodox
systems, as well as the heterodox, were driven to
forced explanations of the religious books, is a
proof that they were at least partially influenced by
a different spirit from that which formed the pre-
dominant character of their religion.

Among the multitude of Indian systems, Cole-
brooke considers six to be especially distinguished ;
and these again he has classed together in pairs, so
as to form only three principal divisions ; viz. the
first and the second Mimansa which is also called
Vcdanta, the Nyaya and the Vaiseschika, the

'" I cannot conceive on wliat grounds ColL-hrookc reckons the Vaisescliikn
among the orthodox systems, since the Vedaiita j)hice8 the Atomic theory of
Canada even below the doctrine of the Sankhya. Vide ib. i. p. .'i.')?.

IV. Z

338 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

Sankhya and the Yoga." The dualism of these
systems is not, however, to be viewed from the
same historical point of view, for each pair is con-
nected together by a peculiar relation. The
Sankhya and the Yoga, by their division of ideas,
form but one and the same system, and only differ
by giving different interpretations of the supreme
idea from which the whole classification proceeds ;
and hence also, naturally enough, by taking a dif-
ferent view of the division itself. In its view of
this subject, the Yoga approximates to the Vedanta ;
and is perhaps nothing more than an attempt to
establish the authority of the Sankhya, but at the
same time to reconcile it with the general view
which forms the groundwork of the Mimansa.
Very different from this is the relation of the two
Mimansas. The first may be said to stand in the
same relation to the latter that the practical does to
the theoretical. The former is a simple enume-
ration of duties which are mostly of a religious
nature. The precepts of the Vedas are regarded as
the principles of ethical doctrine, but not exclu-
sively ; and occasionally, indeed, their authority is
rejected, as conflicting with the immutable laws of
morality. ^^ In the discussion of these matters,
however, the Mimansa has no better title to the
character of philosophy than for the proofs it gives

^' Colebr. 1. 1. vol. i. p. 19. This is in accordance with the general review of
it which Taylor has given in the appendix to his translation of the Prabod
Chandrodaya. The Rise of the Moon of Intellect. Transl. by Taylor. Lond.
1812. 8. The Yoga, for instance, the doctrine of Pataiijali is called by Taylor
Patanjel, and the Nyaya is divided into the doctrine of Gautama and of Canada,
which is called Vaiseschika.

>^ lb. p. 451, 1.V2, 45G.

DIVISIONS AND SECTS. 339

of the necessity of a divine revelation of human
duties, or its inquiries into the origin of language,
and into the connection between the meritorious
act and its invisible consequences.^^ The Vedanta,
or the second portion of the Mimansa, possesses, on
the other hand, a philosophical character, and will
therefore justly call for a fuller examination. Lastly,
the Nyaya and the Vaiseschika, according to Cole-
brooke, stand in the same relation to each other as
metaphysics to logics and ethics ; or, as he elsewhere
more precisely expresses himself, the Nyaya is con-
versant about general ideas, while the Vaiseschika
takes them indeed as its basis, but enters pre-emi-
nently into details. ^^ The two, therefore, may be
regarded as forming one complete system.

As long; as our knowledge of the first evolutions of
these doctrines is imperfect, it is utterly useless to
attempt to trace historically the order of their succes-
sion. Colebrooke, indeed, has ventured to assert, that
the Sankhya was the latest formed, on the ground that
the several other systems are constantly mentioned
and refuted in the works of greatest repute among
the followers of the Vedanta. ^^ This argument,
however, is inadequate, so long as a doubt exists
that the existing work is the one in which the doc-
trine of the Vedanta was originally promulged.

'^ lb. p. 44.5, 446, 455. Tlic following is Colebrooke's icniaik of the
founder of the Miinansi : — Jainiini'u arrangement, however, is not j)hiloso-
phical ; and I am not ac'niainted with any elementary work of tliis seliool in
which a better distribution has been acliieved. So too Windiseiunann in tho
rhilosojiiiie im Fortgang d. Weltgeschichte, p. 17(!(J.

'* lb. p. D-J. Taylor, on the contrary, makes the difference between them
to consist in the ditference of divwions.

" lb. vol. ii. p. 4.

7 '>

340 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

Probability, nevertheless, is in favour of the asser-
tion of Colebrooke, for it is in some degree sup-
ported by the internal character of the doctrine
itself. Our acquaintance, however, with the
systems of Indian philosophy is as yet too imperfect
to allow us to draw from internal evidences any
decided conclusion as to their successive develop-
ment and mutual relation. The order, therefore,
in which we propose to notice them is by no means
adopted as really according with their historical
succession.

1. Sankhya and Yoga.

No system of Indian philosophy is in its main
features so well known to Europeans as the Sankhya.
And it is this acquaintance with it mainly that
justifies the assertion that a true philosophical
impulse existed among the Indians, — a spirit of
inquiry which, being on the whole independent of
religious opinions, did not appeal to sacred tra-
ditions, but followed out for itself a determinate
line of thought. The Yoga, as already observed,
grew out of, or attached itself to, this system. In
what manner this was accomplished, it is impos-
sible to determine in the existing state of our infor-
mation. We therefore propose to examine, in the
first place, the Sankhya itself, and then to add a
few remarks as to the mode in which the Yoga
probably became connected with it.

The Memorial Verses of the Isvara-Krischna,
which is a leading work with the followers of the

THE SANKHYA. 341

Sankhya/^ commence with the following attempt
to prove the ground and necessity of philosophical
science. The pressure of this world's ills gives
rise to a desire of discovering some means by which
they may be surmounted. Now no such remedy
is to be found among visible things, for they are
all equally perishable. Even religious .duties are
insufficient for such a purpose, for these are more
or less mixed up with impurity, assoiling the soul
by exacting the sacrifice of animals. It is only
the being able to distinguish the evolved from
its principle, and that which is cognizant, that can
lead to such an emancipation from the pains and
evils of life.^^ All other means may be regarded
as preparatives to science, but cannot effect the
complete enfranchisement of the soul.^^ We have,
in the next place, a distinction drawn between
internal and external knowledge. The latter em-
braces a knowledge of the sacred writings, and
every other branch of science, except self-know-
ledge, which alone constitutes the former, and is
exclusively true knowledge, or tlie science which
can deliver man from evil.^^

After this introduction, there immediately follows
the division on which, as its proper scientific foun-
dation, the system of the Sankhya is raised. In
the next place, we have an enumeration of the
modes of cognition ; and, histly, the division is
again taken up and pursued further. It is manifest

" GymnosophiHta sive Indicjc philo30plii;e documenta. Collegit, edidit,

enamivit Chr. Lassen, vol. i, Fasc. i. lavaracrishnaj Sankhya Caricam

tenens. Bonn. 11132. 4.

'^ Isvara-Crishn. 1,2; Colebr. i. p. 27, 20.

'* Colcbr. i. p. ."iG. >» L. 1.

342 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

tliat these Memorial Verses do not observe a very
correct method. Now although it is not altogether
justifiable to adopt, as the standard of Indian phi-
losophy, tlie order of scientific exposition which
Europeans have followed, or at least thought ad-
visable, nevertheless, other considerations render it
probable tJiat the Sankhya was indebted to its
disputes with other systems for a definite theory of
the principles of knowledge, which has been in-
serted in a very inconvenient place, in consequence
of not being essential to the original design. We
shall therefore examine, in the first place, so far as
appears necessary, the principles of knowledge
according to the Sankli^^a, in order that we may be
able afterwards to pursue, without interruption, its
classification of objects.

Now the Sankhya assumes three kinds of know-
ledge ; viz. perception, mediate knowledge, which
is acquired by the several forms of svllogism, and
tradition.^" Under the last term was comprised
not only what is ordinarily understood by the term,
but also a holy tradition arising from the recollection
of an earlier and holier state of existence. ^^ Per-
ception is cognizant of sensible objects, but in
many cases is insufiicient for its purpose,^^ and in
these recourse must be had to mediate cognition or
demonstration, which pretends to arrive at certainty,
either by proceeding from the effect to the cause,
or from the cause to the eflfect, or else by a com-
parison of two objects.^^ All intuitive knowledge

^" Isvara-Crishnas, 4 ; Colebr.i. p. 28. ^^ Colebr. i. p. 20.

^* Isv. Crishn. 6; Colehr. i. p. 38. ^^ Isv. Ciishn. 7; Colebr. 1. 1.

THE SANKHYA. 343

of principles is positively denied by the adherents
of the Sankhya ; according to whom it is only a
higher order of beings that may lay claim to such
a faciilty.^^

The classification of the objects of knowledge on
which the whole context of the Sankhya depends,
possesses a very decidedly systematic form. What-
ever is the object of science is either creative and
not created, or both creative and created, or created
and not creative, or neither creative nor created. ^^
The first is naturally the root of all created things.
It is asserted to be a subtle essence, sensuously im-
perceptible, but distinctly traceable in its operations
in the world. The existence of such a being must of
necessity be admitted, since the effects of his opera-
tion are acknowledged to exist. ^^ Further, that this
first cause is one and not multiple, the Sankhya
argues from the fact, that all things in the world are
homogeneous. For as all things pass easily into each
other, and as ultimately all will be again united
together when tlie world shall return again into its
source, there must be one universal first cause in
which nothing is distinguishable. The qualities
which, in opposite and distinguishable ways recipro-
cate in things, presuppose a cause which comprises
in itself all these qualities indistinguishably and un-
evolved ; it is as it were water, which is susceptible
of all modes.^^ Now the leading view in all these

*♦ Colebr. i. p. 28.

** Ibv. Crishn. 3; Colebr. i. p. .Tl. Colcbrooke has also called attention to
the singular correspondence between this iind the doctrine of Johannes Scutus
Erigcna, which is carried througli several minute points.

^ Isv. Crishn. 3, 8, 9; Colebr. i. p. 30, 38.

•^ Isv. Crishn. 11, Ki; Colebr. i. [i. I?0.

344 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

propositions is evidently the principle that the cause
must resemble the effect. As, therefore, the world,
the effect, exhibits itself as corporeal, the creative
principle, as being the basis of the corporeal, is
also conceived to be a body, but yet of so subtle a
nature as to elude all human perception. The
creative principle is consequently regarded as a
blind force of nature ; and is indicated at one time
as matter endued with formative energy, at another
as nature.^^

From the first member of this division we shall
pass at once to the fourth, because it is from the
union of these two that the origin of the others is
derived. Now that which is neither created nor
creates is the soul,^^ or rather the multitude of
souls. The proof of the existence of a soul is drawn
from several considerations. A certain compound
structure of blind corporeal nature is found to
exist, which may be compared to that of instruments
or organs. Now such a construction is inconceiv-
able without some other entity for whose advantage
it has been made, but that for whose good it was
designed must be a sentient being, i. e. a soul.
Again, because there is that which is enjoyed, so
there must be that which enjoys, and such is the
soul. And even the blindly working forces of
nature imply a being which guides and directs
them, and from this consideration again the exist-
ence of a soul follows. Further, the pursuit of that
supreme felicity which consists in the abstraction
from all that is sensible and perishable must be
looked upon as a proof of the existence of the soul,

*' lb. p. 30, 38, 39 ; Isv. Crishn. 11. "* Isv. Crishn. 3.

THE SANKU\A. 345

for it is only a soul that can be capable of such
abstraction. Lastly, the Sankhya appears to have
likewise maintained the principle, that the several
members of a contrariety reciprocally necessitate
each other,^° and consequently to have argued that
the existence of a force of nature which works
blindly by impulsion, legitimates the inference that
there exists an intelligent soul reposing within it-
self.^^ This last argument is evidently one that
expresses the most distinctly the spirit of the
Sankhya philosophy. For in it nature and soul, or
the principles of corporeal and mental phenomena
are as directly opposed to each other as their phe-
nomenal appearance. The purely corporeal and its
principle, therefore, are regarded as thoroughly un-
conscious and as blind, which, nevertheless, however
unconsciously, acts outwardly, not indeed creating
new things, but merely producing a constant change
in relations and forms ; w hile, on the other hand,
the soul is its direct contrary, having nothing in
common with the principle of the corporeal except
that it is a principle, and like it increate and in-
generate. As nature or matter is blind, so the soul,
on the other hand, is in its essence endued with in-
telligence ; and as nature is active and producing,

*" This principle is also maintained by the Vcdanta. Taylor, p. 115.

" I shall here quote the Latin translation of the jiassage of the Tsvara Kris-
chna in which these proofs are given, in order to give an example of these
Mnemonic Verses. It is the seventeenth Stoka. Ideo quod consociatio propter
alius causiim fit, e contrario trium qualitatum et eas comitantium proprietatum,
e moderatione, inde quod esse debet, (|ui fruatur, ex actione projiter abstrac-
tionis cau8<'im (colligitur) esse Genium. The explanation may l)e found in
Lassen's note, and in Colebr. p. 40. I have changed the order of the proofs, as
will easily be seen.

346 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

the soul is in its essence not a cause and not pro-
ducing; it is merely a spectator of that which is
brought about; it is as it were a stranger in the
world. ^^ The foundation of this doctrine, therefore,
rests on the perception of the specific difference
between the corporeal and the mental as transferred
to their respective principles, and leads to a system
of decided dualism. It is only by considering the
principle of mental phenomena as multiple, while
the principle of the corporeal is held to be simple
unity, capable however of transmuting itself into
many forms, that the Sankhya is distinguished from
other dualistic doctrines which are based on the
same contrariety. The multiplicity of souls is
proved by the fact that the destiny of all souls is
not the same, and that its pleasures and pains, and
the occupation in which it participates, are various.
When the one dies the other begins to live ; one has
this, another that body. This idea of a multiplicity
of souls in one living body seems to be based on the
view that the strict unity of each several soul does
not admit of opposite, contemporaneous states. The
unity of the corporeal principle, on the other hand,
is not supported by any further argument than that
already hinted at. Perhaps, indeed, the teachers of
the Sankhya were more or less influenced by the
idea that it is by mental reflection that things first
attain to an absolute existence in and for them-
selves, and thereby also unity and plurality per-
ceived in the world.^^

*^ Isv. Crishn, I'J. Ex eadem contrarietate demonstratur Genium esse
testem, abstractionis studiosum, arbitrum, spectatorem, agendi inopem, lb. 20.
*' Isv. Crishn. 18; Colebr. i. p. 40.

THE SANKHYA. 347

It is by tlie combination of these two principles
according- to the Sankhya, that the world is pro-
duced ; but in this production the two grounds play
opposite parts agreeable to the peculiar nature of
each. The idea which, in their passionate desire
for inactive repose, the Orientals formed of the soul,
was very different from that which the active and
lively Greek entertained of it. With the former it
is without all formative energy ; it does not by
activity produce order and beauty in the world, it
rules not matter, and is not an ensouling force ; on
the contrary, they believed that it is without either
pleasure or force to act, and that in its essence it is
contemplative; it takes no other part amid the
blind forces of nature than that of a spectator; it is
neither created nor creative. It is a stable point in
the theory of mundane things which the Sankhya
advances, that in their production the soul effects
absolutely nothing, but that it is simply passive in
its relation to the phenomena which nature pro-
duces in combination with it. The soul is devoid
of all activity or employment. A stranger in this
world, it assumes, in its connection with nature,
the appearance indeed of acting; in the same way
as the corporeal nature, by its connection with the
soul, puts on the semblance of sensation. ^^ On the
other hand, the active force in the formation of the
world, is the principle which is increatc and not
creative. It is a living but blindly devcl()j)ing
being. As the milk which affords sustenance to

^ Isv. Crishn. If), 20. Inde fit, ut e conjunctioiic cum lioc (Cienio) corpus-
culum, sensu destitutum, induat Bpecifm sentieiuii; et peregiinus ille (Genius)
ageiitis iiiBtar comparcat, ageiitibus Bolummodo riualitatibus. Colcbr. i. p. 4-.

348 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

the calf works blindly, so the producing force of
nature operates unconsciously. It is as it were a
dancing-girl, who dances in order to exhibit herself
to a circle of spectators ; so nature works in order
that the soul may see her works ; she pursues a
business which cannot have been given her by the
soul to perform, for it has no active qualities.^^
The Sankhya here makes use of a figure, which is
employed in various ways by the Indian philosophy,
to illustrate the relation of the soul to body. It
illustrates the combination of the two principles of
the world in the creation, by the society of the blind
and the lame, the part of the one being to bear and
to be guided, the other to be borne and to guide.
The soul has no power to move or to act ; nature is
unable to see her way ; what the one is destitute of
is supplied by the other, and so by the union of the
two the creation is developed in its mental and cor-
poreal phenomena.^^

When now we proceed to explain the derivation
of mundane creatures which nature, by uniting it-
self with the soul, produces, we have to remark
generally that the Sankhya is far from observing
the same strict and scientific classification which it
puts forward at the opening of its doctrine. Never-
theless, we must admit both that a pretty distinct view
prevails throughout, and that the arrangement of its
ideas is based on the results of experience, and not
altogether devoid of a scientific character. These

'^ Isv. Crishn. 57, 59, 60; Colebr. i. p. 42.

" Isv. Crishn. 21. Conjunctio Genii, (earn) conspicere et dein sese abstra-
here studentis, atque originis (Procreatricis) fit tamen, licet claudi veluti et
caeci; hinc efficitur creatio. Colebr. i. p. 32.

THE SANKHYA. 349

ideas moreover appear to have been generally
adopted in the Oriental mind ; whether or not
they owed their prevalence to the Sankh3^a, we can-
not venture to decide. This arrangement assumes
the form of an ascending series, with respect to
which we must here remark that on the whole it is
subordinate to the two members of the fundamental
division which we have not as yet considered, that
viz. of the created which also creates, and the
created which does not create. The latter is evi-
dently of less value than the former. This distinc-
tion of degree in the consideration of mundane
things is further implied by a division which pre-
vails equally in the Sankhya and in all the other
philosophical doctrines of the Indians, and whose
great importance for a right estimate of the fun-
damental ideas of that philosophy, requires that we
should immediately examine it We allude to the
division of qualities, as the original term is usually
translated, or the degrees of mundane existence as
we should prefer to call them, if we had only to con-
sider the allocation of the several ideas.^^ These
degrees are three in number. The highest is good,
wJiich tends upwards, as fire; it is the cause of
virtue and felicity : tlie lowest is darkness, heavy as
water and earth, the cause of dulness and deception:
between these two extremes lies folly or passion,
wliich is described as changeable and moveable, as
air — the cause of evil. In the gods good prepon-

" The Sanscrit term is giina. Lassen says, p. 30 : Atque est sane guna apud
Sankhyicos materia! innata Ivtpyiia per trcs gradus asccndens atque considcns.
Sunt tres materia-, cum arcu vcl lyra comparatse tensiones et reddi potest guna
haud inepte per potcntiam. Cf. Colcbr. i. p. 3.i.

350 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

derates ; passion and darkness being* equally foreign
to them, therefore they are supremely happy. In
man passion preponderates ; good and darkness are
strangers to him ; on this account he is pre-emi-
nently miserable. Lastly, in the brutes darkness
pervades, good as well as passion is alien to them,
and therefore they are in the highest degree stupid. ^^
These three grades of mundane existence appear by
the Saukhya to be brought in connection with the
production of the several subordinate principles, so
that some indeed of the followers of this doctrine
have even reckoned them as principles. ^'^ But on
this point we require more complete and accurate
information than as yet we possess.

The custom of the Sankhya, in the enumeration
of these three grades, to descend from the higher to
to the lower, is in perfect accordance with the man-
ner which it follows in its exposition of the deri-
vatory principles. Indeed, it appears to be a gene-
ral characteristic of the Oriental habit of thought
to deduce gradually from the perfect, the more and
more imperfect. It invariably regards the most
perfect as the most intellectual. For although it
usually paints the creative principle as a blind
force, and even appears at times to equate its notion
to that of the corporeal, by placing in it the prin-
ciple of the corporeal, nevertheless its first produc-
tions are by no means of a grossly corporeal nature.
This circumstance can only be explained by the

*" Colebr. i. p. 35,39,40; Isv. Crishn. 13. Here the three grades are de-
signated by essentia, impetus, and caligo, which Humboldt renders by Wesenheit,
Irdischheit, and Dunkel. With respect to the Episode of the Maha-Bharata
known as the Bhagavad Gita, see p. 28.

'■''' Colebr. i. p. 3.5. Bergl. Isv. Crishn. 2.5; Humboldt, ib.

THE SANKHYA. 351

fact that the essential object of the Sankhya being
to place the notion of the soul in the most direct
opposition to all that is sensible, it was thereby
driven to consider all internal sensuous motions as
something unessential to the soul, and accruing to
it from without, and therefore to be regarded as its
body. That the Sankhya has followed out this
tendency to its extreme consequences is at once
manifest, from a consideration of those notions
which are represented as the first to proceed from
the productive energy of material nature.

Now the very first of these emanations is mind or
reason, which, as the supreme principle of mundane
things. is also called the great; '^'^ for it either produces
all the others, or allows them to proceed out of
itself. Such of the followers of the Sankhya as
adopted the authority of the Vedas, regarded it
also as the divine Trinity. In the view of these
philosophers, all other rational entities are merely
parts of and emanations from it ; '^^ and the notion of
a supreme God signified simply the prime-created
being. They expressly denied the existence of a
God independent of nature, whether revealed by
tradition, or perceived by the senses, or as demon-
strated by argument. For, they asked, how could
those eflccts, which seem to afford such a proof,
have proceeded from a supremely perfect being?
for independent of, and separate from, nature, and
therefore uniiifiuenced by tlic movements of con-
sciousness, such a being would not have liad any
motive for creation ; on tlie otlicr hand, if fettered
by nature, he would not have been sufHcient for it.

'" Isv. Ciislin. 22; CoUhr. i. p. :;o. *' Col. In. i. 1.

352 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

The guidance of events requires a kindred existence
with that which guided, in the same way as iron is
attracted by the magnet. Therefore no pure and
perfect soul could have been the ground of the
world's existence ; reason alone which is produced
by nature, must be considered as that on which all
else is dependent. This great one, however, — this
reason, is regarded by the Sankhya as the ground
of all particular rational entities. It must be
perishable, in the same way as all that is produced
from it in the union of nature with reason is tran-
sitory ; it is at most a finite and perishable reason."
This first production of nature is followed in the
next place by the self-consciousness which attaches
the idea of self or ego to all sensations and thoughts.
It goes forth from the reason, and produces the other
principles, which are the basis of all sensuous ap-
pearances. It contains, as we are authorized in
inferring, the ground of the multiplicity of rational
entity in the world ; for by this self-consciousness,
the rational entities are separated one from another,
and each for itself. Selfishness, evil, and error, are
by it brought into the world." To this the sen-
sible attaches itself, but not immediately ; for the
Sankhya goes very gradually to work with its
descending series of the developments of nature,
and consequently makes five imperceptible grounds
of the five elements emanate from the self-conscious-
ness previously to the production of the sensible.
They are perceptible to higher existences, but not
to man. Now as these five elementary principles
exhibit themselves efficiently by allowing the five

*= Colebr. i. p. 37. •" Colebr. i. p. 30; Isv. Crishn. 24.

THE SANKHYA. 353

perceptible elements to emanate from out of them-
selves, they belong to that member in the classifi-
cation of this philosophy which comprises all that
is both created and also re-creative/*

But this is all that belongs to this member of the
series. In the next place follow the pure produc-
tions of nature, which further produce nothing, but
are themselves merely the products of some other
force or power. Of these, the first is the grossly
sensible, which is perceptible to the human organs
of sensation. According to the arrangement almost
universally observed, these objects are grouped to-
gether in fives. There are five organs of sense,
parallel to which stand the five organs of activity,
viz. : the tongue, as the organ of speech, the hands,
the feet, the entrails which carry on the alimentary
and secretive action, and the organs of generation.
In the next place, these five organs are made paral-
lel to the five elements, since, according to the
conceptions of the Sankhya, and generally of every
Indian system, each element requires a separate
sense for its perception. The fifth element of the
Sankliya, which, by a very inappropriate compari-
son, is usually called ether, corresponds to the
auditory organ. So far, then, these constituents of
the sensible world are symmetrically arranged.
But in agreement with other Indian systems, the
Sankhya further appends to them another con-
stituent, which is inserted between the five organs
of sense, and the five organs of activity as consti-
tuting the point of union between, and eftrcting tlie
unity of, the sentient person. Tliis, in respect to the

** Colfbr. i. J). 30; Isv. Crislin. .'}«.
IV. '2 A

354 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

senses, may be called the inner or common sense ;
but in relation to the organs of activity, as the col-
lectivity of the sensual desires/^ Now the distinction
which the Sankhya draws between this sensuous
consciousness and the self-consciousness, is a proof
of a very strong disposition to refer the inner de-
velopment of our sensuous conception to a higher
and more general force, and thereby to separate it
from man's true personality — from the essence of
his soul. This effort is also strikingly apparent in
the distinction which is drawn between a more
subtle personality which is destined to be more
enduring than the perceptible one, and the intel-
lectual production of human representations. "^^ In all
probability, we shall not greatly err, if we suppose the
relation subsisting between this more subtle and the
sensual personality to be similar to that assumed
between their imperceptible grounds and the ele-
ments themselves.

This is the systematic order in which the things
of this world and their principles are exhibited in the
Sankhya philosophy. It is intended to lead to the
conviction that all that goes on in this world is not
a work of the soul, but that the latter has absolutely
no concern therein. This is the true science of the
soul, by which it is freed from all mundane annoy-
ance. For if it can but once attain to the conviction
that all the phenomena of nature are neither brought
about by, nor affect itself, it will be able to behold
all things with indifference. It will then look upon

*^ Colebr. i. p. 30, sq. lev. Crishn. 25, sqq. This unity of the seiiKUous
)'erson Lassen designates by 'animus'. Tsv. Crishn. 27.
** Colebr. p. 32, 33. Alluded to also in Isv, Crisch. 46.

THE SANKHYA. 355

itself as perfectly free from all the chances and
changes of nature, and as a self-existing and inde-
pendent being. These, it is true, still continue to
exist as they did before ; the soul is still held in the
body in the same way as the potter's wheel still
continues to revolve, even when its revolutions are
no longer useful ; but the soul is no longer affected
by them ; they no longer possess any advantage for
it ; for they were originally designed merely for
this object, viz. to lead the soul to a knowledge of
itself/^ Such an emancipation of the soul by
science, the Sankhya assumes 1o be possible even
in this world ; nevertheless it seems to have re-
garded this attainment as merely transient, since it
taught that the soul cannot in this life ever with-
draw itself absolutely from its connection with the
body. The emancipation, therefore, which the
sage attains to after death, is alone perfect and with-
out end ; it is then only that he is freed from the
necessity of the metempsychosis/^

This point of view undoubtedly presents a diffi-
culty which is hard to overcome, but which, how-
ever, the Sankhya has, in common with all systems
which in any degree advocate the doctrine of a pure
semblance. The Sankhya makes the working of
the soul, in reference to nature, i. e. its pain or
passion, to be a pure semblance; but by so doing it
involves itself in the difficulty of accounting for it.
Now it assumes, indeed, that nature presents this
semblance to the soul; it shows it to the soul in
order tliat the soul may be awakened to a knowledge
of itself. Nature docs notliiug but for the sake of

*' l.sv. Crislin. 07. " \U. CH.

2 A 2

356 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

the soul. But what does it effect within it ? Nature
is designed to emancipate the soul, to furnish it
with science ; but, as the Sankhya admits, the soul
is bound b}' nothing ; it is not so much it that
comes into connection with nature, as nature,
which, in connecting together different souls and
runnino; throuo-h the circle of emanations, binds and
unbinds itself. The soul therefore cannot be free ;
the only science that can arise in it is merely one
which teaches that it is of no use to be free.^^
How can such science improve the soul or chan'ge
its nature ? Thus, then, even in the soul, nature
produces a certain result, which however may itself
be described as a semblance. Thus, then, the action
of nature on the soul, on which, however, the truth
of all natural operations must rest, vanishes; and
hence perhaps we may explain the fact, that so
many of the followers of the Sankhya declared
nature itself to be nothing more than an appear-
ance.^° Yet, undoubtedly, this view was not the
primary sense of this philosophy, whose essential
character was the assumption of the pure contrariety
of body and mind, A partial resolution, therefore,
of this contrariety by the annihilation of nature,
was a very inappropriate means for removing the
difficulties which the carrying out this contrariety
ultimately leads to; for as, according to the
Sankhya, the several souls have no common bond
of union, this hypothesis could naturally have no
other result than to destroy all unity in the system
of the world. We are therefore disposed to ascribe

" lb. 56.

" Colebr. i. p. 30. But of a late date only, for Colebrooke appeals to the
I'uraiias for his authority.

THE YOGA. 357

to the Yoga, rather than to the Sankhya, the view
which would reduce nature itself to a semblance.

Of this, the probable daughter of the Sankhya, we
have a few remarks to make, which, from the scanti-
ness of our information concerning it, will necessarily
be very brief.^^ We scarcely know more of it than
that, agreeing for the most part with the Sankhya,
it differs from it by teaching the existence of a
supreme God and governor of all things, who is a
soul or a spirit, but different from other souls, and
exempt from the ills to which the latter are exposed,
and equally incapable of doing either good or evil,
and therefore independent of their consequences,
and without conceptions or fleeting ideas. This
God, according to the Yoga, is infinite, without
beginning or end, omniscient, and the teacher of
those primal beings, the gods,^^ who, it would ap-
pear, are in their turn the teachers of men. As to
the relations which the followers of the Yoga sup-
posed to exist between this supreme being and the
world, or between it and the individual soul, on this
point we are wholly ignorant.''^ Tlius, too, we are
perfectly in the dark as to the questions, whether
it considered nature itself merely as an emanation
from this supreme soul, or as a mere semblance,
a delusion which the individual soul is subject to

" I must here observe that the term Yoga (union, absorption), is of very
extensive signification with the Hindoos. The doctrine of the Bhagavad-Gita
also is termed Yoga. Here nothing more is meant tiiau the Yoga of I'atand-
schali.

" Colebr. i. p. 157, sqq.

" Tliis view is adopted by Windischmann, ib, p. l!if!7, wli", in liis treatise
on Indian philosophy, appeals to unpublished documents. According to this
author, God is tlie unity of all souls. But elsewhere it is differently taken,
bee below.

358 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

by its separation from God, and whether it posited
the several souls individually as emanations from,
or parts of God. For the solution of all these, we
must look to future research. ^^ As the Yoga was
more closely connected than the Sankhya with
religious practices, and in some degree neglected
scientific inquiries, we must suppose that, as it
adopted the doctrines of the Sankhya in all other
respects^ it attempted to find a means by which it
might, if not altogether get rid of, yet, at least,
soften the rigour of the contrariety of soul and
nature, as taught by the latter : and, in truth, such
an attempt will very naturally account for the de-
velopment of the Yoga^^ from the Sankhya.

In the state of doubt which envelops this subject,
this alone is certain, that the Yoga made the attain-
ment of that perfect repose, which it makes to be
the end of philosophy, to be dependent on the ab-
sorption of the individual soul in God. This repose
is a state of ecstacy, to be obtained by a withdrawal
from the activity of thought, while the contemplator
remains in his own proper mood ; whereas in man's
usual state of thought, his mental activity is con-
tinually in motion, either arguing or doubting, or
the likc.'^^ Even from such a species of activityj
man must emancipate himself by acquiring that
perfect rest which is attainable by the contemplation
of unity. In such a state of quietude, the differ-
ences between words and things, nature and mind,

^ They are particularly difficult to solve, since it is not easy to keep distinct
the Yoga of Pat andschali and that of the Vedanta.

'^ Yoga Sutra, according to the translation of Rosen, in Wiudischmann,
ib. p. 1880.

lb.

THE YOGA. 359

will be resolved ; and all special existences vanish
and pass over into God.^^ The means by which
this ecstatic state is to be attained, are in general
such as are agreeable to the view of the Sankhya,
of the utter nothingness of all earthly things rela-
tively to the soul; all hope of mundane felicity
must be abandoned. But this apparently leads to
the view that all semblance originates in the sepa-
ration of individual things or souls. Further, all
the means, with the exception of abstraction, which
the soul ought to employ, are of a very sensuous
nature, and of the same character as those which we
meet with in other Indian schools. One class of
these means consists of religious practices, such as
sacrifices, and the like, while at the same time the
absorption, as it were, of all these practices into
God, who is the sole object of veneration in them,
is strictly enjoined. Another is made up of certain
outward practices of a peculiar nature ; such as a
quiet and unconstrained position of the body or a
recumbent posture, a fixed law for tlie inhaling and
exhaling the breath, and the direction of the atten-
tion to the roots or beginnings of sensation or
thought, the point of the nose, of the tongue, &c., by
all which it is intended no doubt, although in a very
sensuous way, to indicate that a full knowledge of
the principles of sensation and thought are necessary
to the peace of the soul. But by a consideration of
mundane things we can only see God in types, yet,
at the same time, we can tiiereby prepare ourselves
for that higher contenjplation whicli sliall reveal to us

" VVindischmann, ib. p. 1881, for the most part after Indian commentators.

360 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

not types, nor rational activity, nor the ego, but the
splendour of the divinity. In such contemplations
we shall see through all things, both past and
future, the course of all time, and the whole extent
of nature ; we shall attain also to the might which
rules the corporeal world and effects the wonders of
the Yogi. But even the divine splendour of God, —
the world of light, — appears to be sensuously under-
stood, and its contemplation does not apparently
indicate the highest grade of human emancipation
from evil. For the Yoo:a teaches that at last man
shall learn to distinguish the world of hght from
intelligence, and that thereby the root of delusion
and the cause of birth be destroyed in man. At
this perfection, however, it is only gradually that
man can arrive ; it is only through birth and death,
that, similarly to a seed of corn, human life is
evolved step by step to this glorious fruit. Thus
then the different steps which the Sankhya points
out appear to form, as it were, the ladder by which
man is to climb to this height of perfection.^*

The insufficient and defective nature of our in-
formation on this subject cannot be better indicated
than by a reference to the Bhagavad-Ghita, which,
it is pretended, contains an exposition of the princi-
ples of this philosophy. For to judge from those
scanty statements of its true nature which we have
already recorded, and from other testimonies, it is
impossible to admit that this poem contains the
genuine doctrine of the Yoga. We must therefore
wait until Sanscrit scholars, who have greater trea-
sures at their command, shall have imparted to us

^ VViiuli'^Lhm. ib. p. KJSl, sqq.

THE YOGA. BHAGAVAD-GHITA. 361

some more correct and unquestionable^^ account of
this system of philosophy.

The doctrine of this poem connects itself with
that of the Sankhya, by placing soul and nature in
direct opposition, and making the knowledge of the
latter to be the condition of all ultimate emancipa«
tion from the law of metempsychosis. The several
members of this contrariety stand opposed to each
other in pairs, as matter and the cognizant of mat-
ter, the enjoyed and the enjoying, the agent and the
spectator. But the poem also implies the hypo-
thesis that the union of nature with the soul is the
origin of all individual things,^" with this differ-
ence, however, that this union is referred back to a
superior mind, which, presiding over the world, is
the principle both of it and of nature, and therefore
also of their union. For although nature is desig-
nated in the Bhagavad-Ghita as eternal and with-
out beginning,^^ still the predominant view of the
poem is that God, the supreme mind or soul, is the
creator of the world ; so that by the doctrine that
the world is without beginning, nothing more can be
intended than that it was from all eternity in God,
since it is assumed generally as a fundamental prin-

** W. Von Humboldt in several pass.iges of the above-named treatise, has
already called attention to this point. The division adduced, p. 19, is a very-
striking proof that the Sankhya is not delivered in this work without some
admixture of very foreign idc.is. Indeed not only the Yop;a, but the Vcdanta
also is recommended by this poem. See the translation of, by Wilkins, j). 113;
Schlegel (xv. 1.5). renders it by doctrina theologica.

^'° XIII. 2C). Whatever truly arises whether solid or moveable, that becomes
knowing by the union of matter, and what is cognizant of matter, O Banitas ! —
XIII. i{3. As one sun emitting light irradiates the whole world, so, O IJaratas !
the cognizant of matter irradiates m.ntter. According to Humboldt's version,
ib. p. 20, cf. p. 27.

"' XIII. ID.

362 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

ciple, that whatever exists must in its cause be
eternal. ^^ The action of God, therefore, in the
creation, is nothing more than a suffering of things
to go out of himself in order that they may come
into being,^^ they all emanate from the bosom of
God. In this descrijDtion there is evidently room
left for the idea of a difference of sex, or of active
and passive causes, to suggest itself;®* a view which
is not unfrequent in theories of emanation, and at
the same time the opinion is advanced that what-
ever is real in this world must be regarded as a
part of God.^^ The contrariety between the princi-
ple and the emanated is expressed by the notions of
simple and multiple.*^® And to this refers the dis-
tinction which is made between the supreme soul
and the divided souls in the world. Between these
two, however, a third member is inserted, viz. the
undivided soul in the world which stands at the sum-
mit of perfection, by which we must understand the
individual soul so soon as it has attained to a per-
ception of its unity and identity with God, and
thereby freed itself from the fetters of appearance. ^^
As then this doctrine differs from the Sankhya,

^^ II. 12. Never was there a time in which I was not, nor thou, nor these
princes of the people; and never shall I not be; henceforth we all are.

6» Humboldt, p. 23.

•* lb. p. 22; xiv. 3, 4.; Chrischna says: the great deity is my womb, in it I
lay my fruit, and the origin of all things emanates therefrom alone, Baratas ;
for where anybody springs out of a womb, O son of Kunti. The deity is the great
womb; and I the seed-giving father.

" X. 41, 42.

"« VIII. 3; xi. 37.

•'' XV. 16, sq. Duo hi Genii in mundo exstant, turn dividuus, turn indivi-
duus; dividuus est aiiimaiitium universitas, individuus in fastigio collocatus
dicitur. Praeter hos autem est alius Genius supremus, summi spiritus nomine
dcsignatus, qui mundo tergcmino penetrato eum sustentat, incorruptibilis, prin-
ccps.

THE YOGA. BHAGAVAD-GHITA. 363

by deriving phenomena from the supreme soul
which is over and embraces all, and not from the
individual soul in its union with nature, in what-
ever sense this union is to be understood, it must
naturally follow a different road in order to arrive
at the peace and emancipation of the soul. It is
true that here also the cognition of principles is
looked upon as essential to this emancipation ; ^®
but it is expressly admitted that by this term a very
different science is meant from that enjoined by the
Sankhya; it is not a knowledge of the soul merely
as it is different from nature, but a knowledge of
the one principle both of nature and of individual
souls. Herein it adheres more closely than the
Sankhya does to the religious doctrines of the
Vedas, and accordingly faith even is reckoned by it
among the means for attaining to the desired absorp-
tion in God.^^ By this absorption the Bhagavad-
Ghita understood the union which the soul enters
into with God ; or rather, in which it passes over
into the deity, in which state it is promised the
enjoyment of supreme felicity and perfect repose,^*^
which cannot be broken by the motion of the prin-
ciples which continue to operate in nature. For
these principles, as they emanate from God, are
only present in us by the operation of God working
conformably to his will, and it is therefore our duty
to allow them to operate in us without apprehending
from them any disturbance of our proper nature.
God is in the offering, in the sacrifice, the fire of

*• XIV. n. « VI. 47; xii. 2.

'" IV. 10; vi. 1,T, 8f|f|,; xviii. H'.i, h(|<). " For recognizing mc lie jiasscs
without doliiv into ine. ''

364 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

the altar; by God the sacrifice is perfected, and
God' is obtained by him who makes God the sole
object of his labours/^ The true moral duty of man
therefore, — the true way to imperturbable repose, is
to satisfy the duties of a man's station and religion,
not from motives of passion, or any desire for, or
looking to the consequences of his actions, but,
without any regard to results, from implicit obedi-
ence to them as the commands of God, and as the
proper end to which the principles which have
emanated from God naturally tend. Thus man
becomes free from the fetters of his actions, and
even in acting, acts not. That which was from
eternity in God becomes by this means alone appa-
rent, and in all this man is but the instrument of the
divine act.'^ He who holds himself perfectly in-
different to the circumstances with which he is in
contact, who despises not the light of wisdom, nor
attention to mundane things, nor the distraction of
the attention when these things happen to him, nor
desires them when they are absent, such a one has
conquered the influence of circumstances, he is fitted
to be absorbed in Brahm.'^

The Nyaya and the Vaiseschika.

No branch of Indian science has attracted the
attention of Oriental scholars in a higher degree

'"■ IV. 24. Numen est in oblatione, numen in oleo sacro, numen in igne,
Dumine litatur, ad numen iturus est ille, qui numen operando meditatur. I
have not omitted to compare here the version by Wilkins, p. 54.

'^ III. 8, sqq.; iv. v. xviii. 17; xi. 33, 34. " By me these are already stricken.
Tliou art but an instrument; whom I have stricken, do thou strike fearlessly."

" XIV. 22, sqq.; Wilkins's version, p. 110.

NTAYA AND VAISESCHIKA.

365

than the Nyaya.'"' A multitude of different modes
of reasoning and refutation as taught by it have
been enumerated with several precise terms of art,
in such a manner, however, that it is impossible to
form a correct estimate of their value, or to under-
stand their relative bearing/^ And from all the
notices which we have received of this philosophy,
nothinsf more can be inferred than that the philoso-
phical science of the Hindoos has been developed
with great subtlety and was gradually formed by a
process of controversy in which, by manifold appli-
cations and refinements of its principle, it sought to
maintain against all rivals its conclusive validity.
As the translations and extracts which have hitherto
been given to the world from the writings of the
followers of the Nyaya furnish little better than a
meagre enumeration of its parts and divisions, it is
impossible to determine how far their investigations
into the dialectical forms of scientific thought at-
tained to precision and completeness. One point
alone appears certain, and that is, that they can
lay but slight claims to accuracy of exposition.
This is proved clearly enough by the form of their
syllogism, which is made to consist of five instead
of three jjarts. Two of these are manifestly super-
fluous, while by the introduction of an example in
tiie third tlie universality of the conclusion is viti-
ated.'^ Instances enough are to be met with in tlie

'♦ Colebr. i. p. 94.

" lb. p. 116, nqq. Winilischmann, ib. p. 1904, gives us a translntioii of the
first book of the Nyaya Sutra, anJ an extract from the second, but confesses
tliat much haj been only conjccturally given, as must be tlie case in the j)re8ent
imperfect state of our acquaintance with the Indian tenninology.

" Colebr. i. p. Ill, gives the following example to illustrate the technical
phraseology of the^ Nyaya. 1. The liill is fiery. 2. Because it smokes.

366 INDIAN PHILOSOPHV.

philosophy of India, wherever descending to details
it proceeds to give a proof of any particular matter.
In its exposition the Nyaya is tedious, loose, and
unmethodical. Indeed the whole form of this phi-
losophy is a proof of the incapacity of its expositors
to enter into the intrinsic development of ideas,
whatever knowledge they may have possessed of the
external laws of composition.^'^

As, then, we are unable to expose the method of
formal logic as taught by the Nyaya, we must be
content with the remark which it irresistibly sug-
gests, that the human mind, under every variety of
circumstances, employs the same way of developing
its science, and that there is no necessity of as-
cribing this identity in either case to foreign com-
munication. As Socrates and the Socraticists gene-
rally made the definition of the notion to be the
only ground of true knowledge, so we find the
Nyaya labouring to enforce the same principle.
Every investigation of the latter commences with
an examination of the word which is regarded as a
revelation; it being an article of faith with the
orthodox Hindoos that language is not a human
invention, but a gift of divine revelation. Now the
word must be so explained as to determine the

3. Whatever smokes is fiery, e. g. a kitchen hearth. 4. Th« hill also smokes.
S. Therefore it is fier}'. Nyaya Sutra by Windischmann, 32, 38.

" According to Windischmann, the following is the division of the Nyaya
Sutra ; the first book contains a brief summary of the entire theory, and then
the second treats of the difficulties of the proofs, the third treating of the proba-
ble, the object of knowledge, while the fourth is a continuation of the previous,
and treats of the objects from which man is to emancipate himself and of
emancipation itself, while lastly the fifth book examines the defective answer
and refutation. This conclusion of the work is particularly deserving of at-
tention. Windischmann also, p. 1910, concludes that the Hindoos possessed
only the fundamental principles of the logic which the Greeks had cultivated.

NYAYA AND VAISESCHIKA. 367

essential character of the object, and this expla-
nation is, in the next place, to be submitted to an
examination as to its correctness and sufficiency,
and the nature of the object itself/^

It appears that the necessary form of this expla-
nation has given occasion to other investigations of
the Nya3^a, or at least of the Vaiseschika, which is
immediately connected with it ; for two of their
so-called categories are occupied about the genus
and the difference, as the two parts of a definition.
Thus a controversy is opened with the Buddhists,
who admitted of no existence but that of indi-
viduals, and declared all abstractions to be unreal
and a delusion. By the Vaiseschika, on the other
hand, generals are regarded as real. The gene-
rality of the genus is also distinguished by it from
that of the species, and the several degrees of
generality are traced from the lowest up to the
highest. In this philosophy the highest genus is
expressed by the idea of being, which is predicated
of all things ; while the lowest, on tlie contrary, is
the unity of tlie individual object, which embraces
every difference of modes and qualities.'^

Now the proper end of this doctrine would seem
to have been to investigate the differences of things,
and to determine how many and what species of
existence are correctly to be assumed. And such,

'• lb. p. 94. Windisclim. ib. p. 1014, where it is said tliat, acconlinf,' to the
Nyaya, the ]>orfcct notion is also possession and enjoyment of the ohjcct. This
supposes a perfect union of thouglit and entity.

" 11) p. \\-2. Windisehmann, ib. p. 1905. Nyaya S. H, p. IfMO (cf. Coleb.
ib. [>. .'Hi), gives us the proof from resemblance on which the Nyaya thought it
necessary to enter at length. I conjecture that it means the i)roof of the
universal, for the resemblance is to be founded on similarity of properties.

368 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

in truth, is the actual tendency of its reasonings.
Thus, in the first place, it is sought to show that the
soul exists independent of and different from the body,
on the ground that it possesses properties different
from those of all other things. These peculiar pro-
perties of the soul are declared to be knowledge,
desire, and aversion, pleasure and pain.®° It is the
object for whose sake and gratification body and
the elements exist.^^ For the Nyaya and Vaises-
chika agree with the rest of the orthodox philo-
sophemes of India, in holding that body in itself is
without sensation. The second object of investi-
gation in these systems is the body, which is re-
garded as connected with the soul. This, they
seek to prove, is the seat of activity and rest, of
those labours which are undergone for the sake of
whatever can furnish pleasure or gratification ; it is,
moreover, the seat of the sensuous organs, and of the
perception of pleasure and pain.^^ We are not
aware whether this last property was intended to
furnish also the proof of its existence. At all
events it is but very slightly hinted at ; but at the
same time it is evident that the idea which is the
foundation of the attribution of this property to
body, goes far to imply the necessity of some orga-
nization by and through which the soul may be
qualified to work outwardly, and to perceive ex-
ternal objects. For the question here is not of the
corporeal world absolutely, but merely of the body
as an organ of the soul. We shall pass over the
division of the several kinds of body which follow

■" lb. p. 97. Cf. Nyaya-Sutra, 10 b. Windischm. p. 1905.
*' lb. p. 97, 98. *' L. ].

NYAYA AND VAISESCHIKA. 369

hereupon, merely remarking that bodies are ascribed
to plants. The proof of the existence of the organs
of sense next follow. A proof of this kind was
the more necessary to the philosophers of whom we
are now speaking, the more their idea of sensuous
organs differed from its common acceptation : for
they taught that the organ of sight is not the eye,
but the pencil of rays which proceed from it to the
object ; and the organ of hearing is not the ear but
the ether (acasa), which, passing from the ear,
comes in contact with the audible object. Now the
existence of these organs is proved by that of per-
ception ; for perception, they argue, is an act, but
every act implies an instrument by which it is per-
formed. According to the Vaiseschika, the five
outward senses are not, as the Sankhya assumes,
modifications of the consciousness, but of a cor-
poreal nature.^^ This doctrine gives rise to the
necessity of their fourth proof, of which the object
is to establish the existence of sensible objects. ^^
Now to correspond with the five organs, a like
number of objects — the five elements — are assumed ;
the fifth element, of which sound is the property,
being allotted to the sense of liearing. It is here
that we first of all enter properly into the domain
of the j)uiely corporeal. The corporeal, as it
appears to the perception, is, by the followers of
Kanada, i. e. the philosophers of the Vaiseschika
school, considered as a compound — an intimate

" lb. p. nO; Windischmann, ib. p. 1012.

•** On the iiuthority of a late commentator, Coleb. ib. p. 101, brings under
tliis point the six categories of Kanada, the founder of the Vaiseschika. But
this would lead to great confusion, and we therefore reject it.

IV. 2 IJ

370 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

compound of homogeneous parts aloue ; for it is a
principle of this philosophy that heterogeneous parts
cannot enter into an intimate composition.®^ Now
in the same way that this philosophy sought to
establish a highest and lowest genus in ideas, it
similarly assumed an extreme limit, and the as-
sumption of minute and indivisible corpuscles has
been consequently imputed to the followers of
Kanada. An extreme limit, they argued, must be
ultimately arrived at, otherwise all investigation
would be endless. If body be supposed to consist
of infinite parts, then all must be infinite, and the
greatest equal to the least.^^ All compounds exist
by the union of corresponding parts, as for instance,
cloth of threads ; when, however, the separation of
the parts ceases, we have an atom reduced to the
ultimate limit of parvitude.®^ Hence it is inferred,
that the world could not have arisen out of the
living Brahm, for if it had, vitality must have been
in all things.''

This Atomic theory of the Hindoos diff'ers, how-
ever, in some essential points, from that of the
Greeks. It attempts, in the first place, to deter-
mine the magnitude of the atoms by assuming,
arbitrarily assuming, a definite law for the combi-
nation of the atoms. According to this law, the
first and simplest combination consists of two parts ;
in the next place, these binary compounds enter
into combinations three with three, and these again

^^ lb. Q?>. Windischmann, ib. p. 1924, translates it: close relation.
"5 Colebr. 1. 1. p. 105. This Atomic doctrine is apparently adopted, but not
expressly, by the Nyaya, ib. p. 1912.

w Windischmann, ib. p. 1924, after Sankara. ^ Ib. p. 1921.

NYAYA AND VAISESCHIKA. 371

four by four form new compounds, and so forth, in
an ascending series. ^^ From this view the next
step is to determine the magnitude of atoms, which
is done upon the supposition that the smallest per-
ceptible magnitude is that of the particles visible in
the sun's ra} s, each of which is assumed to be a
composition of the second class, consisting therefore
of six atoms The magnitude, consequently, of an
atom, is the sixth part of a particle floating in the
sunbeam. Now, although by all these suppositions
the contingency in the combination of *the atoms,
which is admitted by the Grecian Atomists, is
reduced to a certain law, it is nevertheless ulti-
mately got rid of entirely by a hypothesis which
forms another point of difference between the
Grecian and Indian theories. And this is the
assumption of a higher power which combines the
atoms together. The intimate union of the atoms,
which is the first condition of the formation of a
body, must not be considered as a mere juxta-
position of atoms ; on the contrary, those atoms
alone can be intimately combined together which
by their special properties have an affinity for each
other. But, in the next place, in order that they
may be actually combined together, some cause is
requisite, whetlier tliis cause be a creative will, or
however else it is to be explained.'"'" Tlius docs the

•* This view resembles, in some degree, the Pythagorean view of the com-
position of a line by the union of two points, and of a surface by that of tlirce
lines, See. But it docs not ap[)ear to have bccTi carried out so inatlicniatically.

*" Colebr. i. p. 9f!. Concurrence of particles by an unseen or predestined
cause and jicculiar (lispuHition of atoms. 11). p. 10.">. Atoms concurrinK by .'in
unseen peculiar virtue, the creative will of (iud, or time, or other competent
cause.

2 15 2

372 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

Vaiseschika exhibit at once a tendency to the least
in magnitude, and also to the necessity of uniting
this again to a greater and a more general, and
ultimately to the most general and the greatest.
We cannot but regret, therefore, that the state of
our information is inadequate for our pursuing with
advantao-e these interestino- matters.

So far a consistent method is perceptible in the
proofs of the Nyaya or Vaiseschika philosophy. It
is evidently founded on the view that the soul is the
centre from which the universe must be compre-
hended ; and the soul, therefore, is regarded, in
comparison with corporeal nature, as a higher order
of existence. Now the demonstrations of this phi-
losophy proceed from the higher to the lower in an
unbroken series, from the soul to the entire body
as the organ of the soul, passing in the next place
to the special organs of the senses, and ultimately
descending to the inanimate objects of sensation —
the elements, viz. and their most special consti-
tuents, which are also considered as the components
of the living body.^^ In the succeeding arguments
(which are given by Colebrooke still more brief!}'-
than the foregoing, and on the whole are treated in
a very unsatisfactory manner), it is impossible to
trace any similar principle of arrangement. Never-
theless we may observe, that here their arguments
begin to remount to the soul again, and it would
almost seem that their arrangement was implicitly
based upon the idea of a series ascending from
lowest to highest. This, however, is only advanced
as conjecture.

«i lb. p. 9!!.

NYAYA AND VAISESCHIKA. 373

The first point here proved is tlie existence of
mind, by which term we are to understand right and
false notions, correct and false memory. Perhaps
we ouoht also to understand under this term the
consciousness of eternal existence.^^ For this is
carefully distinguished from the internal conscious-
ness, the self-consciousness, which is regarded as a
sixth sense. By Kanada the mind is looked upon
as an essence in itself, and is regarded as an atom.
It is the organ of the sensation of pleasure and
pain. By its connection with the outward senses it
effects the cognition of the external world, and
represents the unit}' which collects in itself the dif-
ferent sensations of the several senses. It is dis-
tinct from the soul and yet united with every single
soul, and for every individual soul is supposed to
possess an individual consciousness of this kind.
Its existence as a unity is proved by the fact, that
the same soul is never at the same time conscious of
several independent sensations. When, indeed,
several sensations follow in rapid succession, an
appearance of their contemporaneous existence
arises in the soul, while in fact they are successive ;
and the mental delusion may be compared to the
ocular illusion, similar to the manner in which a
burning brand rapidly revolved appears as a circle of
fire.^^ Now the consciousness of pleasure and pain
impels man to activity, and this forms the next sub-
ject of investigation. For, it argues, \\w. ol)ject of all
activity is to secure pleasure and to avoid pain."*
In the act, however, mistakes arise, by which term

»« Nyaya S. l.'>. b. Wiiulischmann, ib. p. IfH).'",.

»* Colcbr. p. 0.0, 1011, 104, 113. "' Il>. |>. 110, 1 13.

374 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

every species of error and passion are designated.
Hence the soul becomes fettered to the body, and of
this the metempsychosis is the consequence ; since
every soul which has committed any sin or fault is,
after death, united again to a body. And herein
consists the retribution both of good and evil.
Nevertheless, according to this philosophy, the very
pleasure which is the reward of good deeds is itself
but sorrow. For it is presumption in man to sup-
pose that his pleasure can ever be exempt from
instability, which during the migrations — the un-
rest of the soul — is inseparable from all that either
belongs or accrues to it. Human pleasure may
aptly be compared to honey mixed with poison.

The last subject of these dissertations is the total
emancipation of the soul from evil. Now under
this term, evil, was comprised whatever is foreign to
the soul, and happens to it in consequence of its
union with a body. The body is evil ; the senses
and their objects, the elements without exception,
the consciousness of external objects, of self even,
of actions, and of pain and pleasure, are all equally
evil. From all these kinds of evil the soul must
free itself in order to arrive at a pure knowledge of
itself, and realize its proper essence by means of
the holy science. ^^ In this way does the Nyaya
promise the attainment of what the Indians regard
as the highest end of human pursuit — the supreme
felicity which consists in the perfect rest of the
soul.

We cannot take our leave of this system of
Indian philosophy, which evidently possesses a

^' lb. p. 114; Wiiulischm. ib p. ]9V2, note.

NYAYA AND VAISESCHIKA. 375

scientific character, without noticing a few points
on which our information is singularly defective.
Of one point in particular, the existing notice is
undeniably imperfect. Colebrooke informs us, that
by the soul, in reference to which the whole disser-
tation is conducted, must be understood the living
soul of the individual, and which animates the
body. On this account it is expressly said, that
there are many souls. From these, however, the
supreme soul is distinct, which is the seat of eternal
science, which is without passivity, and is indicated
as the creator of all things, in the same way as we
have already seen the creative will declared to be
the power by which the atoms are combined
together.^^ But neither the argument by which a
creator is inferred from the creation, nor the rela-
tion in which the creator is supposed to stand to
other things, and to the soul, either in its enslaved
state or in its emancipation, are further followed
out. The vague expression. Creator of all things,
is not satisfactory. Ecpially inadequate is what is
said of the doctrine of the Nyaya, that it promises
to its followers, by the knowledge it furnishes, entire
and supreme felicity. We are told undoubtedly,
that the soul is freed from all evil by becoming
cognizant of the fact, that evil attaches itself to
every object, and by thereby divesting itself of all
passion ; by reflecting on itself, and in the maturity
of self-knowledge, realizing its own essentiality,
and being thereby warned against uniting itself
again with external objects, and contracting from
the union with thcin citii{;r merit or demerit, joy

'" Coltbr. 1. l.'.il, lU'

376 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

or sufFering.^^ Nevertheless, we are not furnished
with any satisfactory information as to the means by
which the soul is enabled to set itself free from this
dreaded contact with external objects. It almost
seems that for these means the Nyaya was reduced to
the necessity of adopting the view of the Sankhya
or the Yoga ; of maintaining, viz. that the external
fortune of our soul is an extrinsical matter, and
therefore ought not to trouble us. By such a con-
viction, a perfect calm of mind is ensured to man
as soon as he shall have arrived to a right insight
into his own nature. However, it is difficult to see
how this view can be reconciled with the principle
of the Nyaya, that the soul is an atom. For con-
sistently with the principles of this Atomical theory
iL would follow, that by means of external causes,
the soul can be brought into an intimate connection
with other atoms, but as to the way in which this
is to be dissolved by science, not the slightest allu-
sion to this point is to be found in any of the
authentic sources of this philosophy. Another
point on which we are wholly without information
in respect to the Nyaya or Vaiseschika philosophy
is, whether it promised or not a contemplation of
and union with God.

The Vedanta Philosophy.

This school comprises a variety of doctrines, of
which, in the present state of our information, it is
impossible to give a correct classification. Accord-
ing to Colebrooke, the adherents of this school may

'■^ Windisclim. ib. p. ini,",, note.

THE VEDANTA. 377

be divided into the earlier and the later, but as to
the difference between their respective opinions, he
refers us to a yet unpublished treatise for a correct
and satisfactory statement.®^ Even if we are to sup-
pose that the relation which subsisted between the
two resembles that between the earlier and the later
Stoics, or that between Plato and the New Platouists,
it would be extremely difficult to draw from notices
so inaccurate and promiscuous as those which we
possess, any conclusion as to the true import and
original design of their doctrines. Of one branch
of the Vedanta, we are told indeed that it insists
on every occasion upon the extreme efficacy of faith,
which however, is never mentioned b}^ a second,
and occasionally only by a third. Again, it is a
question, whether the view that the phenomenal
and changeable world is merely an illusion — the
creature of the imagination, and that the pheno-
menal objects have no reality, belongs or not to the
older and genuine Vedanta, notwithstanding that in
some of the works whicli are otherwise ascribed to
this school, it forms a leading and pervading doc-
trine. '•''•' Sucli differences of oj)inion sufficiently
prove, how decidedly important it must be to the
right understanding of this philosopliy, tliat we
should be able to trace the distinctive doctrines of
its several branches.

" Colebr. 1. 1. ii. 2, 8.

** lb. ii. 3fl, ?,9, The last point Kennedy lias, it would pceni, correctlv dis-
puted, ib. iii. 4 If), »([<[. The fiuestion mooted by Kennedy, wliicli trenches also
upon others, has not been carried out in the English journals. The later
doctrine of the Vedanta was embraced by Sadananda, whose Vedarita-Sara
has been publi«hed, translated, and commented by Frank (Miinclun, lli.'J.'J) ;
by Sadanada, faith in the teacher is recommended as a means of emancipation,
p. 4, &c.

378 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

The Vedanta claims the dstinction of being the
orthodox doctrine of the Brahmanic religion, and in
support of this claim, it may justly appeal to the
fact, that it generally adduces the authority of the
Vedas in support of its dogmas, and directly ac-
knowledges a number of the Upanischads as its
principal source.^^*^ Nevertheless, as we formerly
remarked when we were speaking of the first Mi-
mansa, the exposition of the sacred writings by this
philosophy is extremely free, and we have no reason
to suppose, that a different method was adopted with
its exposition of the second Mimansa.-^^^

Now to the influence which the use of this
authority exercised on the Vedanta, we are dis-
posed to ascribe the many sensuous representations
in which the idea of the divine nature is conveyed.
Thus the divinity is at one time called the ether, or
air, out of which all things issue, and into which they
all return; and at another, the light which shines
everywhere, in heaven and the universe, and even
in the human individual. ^°^ These are expressions
which do not belong so much to a philosophical
doctrine as to an exposition of religious sentiments,
which is intended to be level to the general capacity,
and appeals to the senses and imagination.

Nevertheless, however great may be the respect
which the followers of the Vedanta may have felt for
the Vedas, still they did not, at least some of them,

"° Colebr. 1. 1. ii. 2. The whole spirit of the four parts of the Veda were
reduced by the followers of the Vedanta into four sentences, and they are
given by Kennedy, ib. p. 418. Cf. Fr. Windischmann : Sancara sive de theolo-
gumenis Vedanticorum (Bonnse, 1833), p. 90.

"' Cf Colebr. 1. 1. 17, 18, etc.

"^ Ib. p. 11.

THE VEDANTA. 379

make the knowledge of them and their interpreta-
tion to be equivalent to the supreme science. For,
dividing- science into two kinds, a higher and a
lower, they understood by the latter the knowledge
of the Vedas, and of such other sciences as gram-
mar, &c., which are regarded as an appendix to the
Vedas ; while the higher science, on the contrary,
is declared to be the science of God, and this it is
the design of the Vedanta to furnish. ^°^ Even re-
ligious practices and pious meditation are of
secondary importance in the estimate of the
Vedanta, and they are merely of value so far as
they prepare the soul for the reception of the divine
science. ^°^ Acts of piety are merely temporal, and
therefore produce only temporary fruits ; they may
raise a man to the heaven of Indra, but cannot
exalt him to eternal felicity. ^°^ For the Vedanta
agrees in this respect with all the other systems of
Hindoo philosophy, that it places the highest good
in the science which it professes. Yet it candidly
allows that this science can only be attained by the
gods and the highest caste of men ;^°^ in this respect
it forms an exact counterpart to the vanity of the
Greeks, in arrogating to themselves exclusively a
liberal and scientific turn of mind, and condemning
all foreigners or barbarians to slavery and igno-
rance.

To judge from the accounts of this philosophy,

''" lb. p. 1:J ; Windischm. Siiiic. p. 'Jl.

"^ Colebr. 1. 1. 27, 28, 29, 33, 38. ^^ Windisclim. Sane. p. 9H, sq.

*"' Colebr. 1. 1. 18. It is only natural, that on tlim point a great diversity of
doctrine should prevail. According to Wilson (Asiat. lies. xvii. 18.')), the
old doctrine was, that the Yoga is unattainable in the present age of the world ;
but that the doctrine was disregarded.

380 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

which have hitherto reached Europe, it is far in-
ferior in scientific vahie, to the Sankhya, and also pro-
bably to all the other sects. Most of the scientific
grounds which it brings forward, have a polemical
bearing against the other schools, from whom how-
ever, on the other hand, it does not scruple to
adopt whatever doctrines were suitable to the Eclec-
tical purposes which it pursued. We are disposed,
therefore, to agree with Colebrooke in the opinion,
that the Vedanta philosophy owed its origin and
present character to an attempt to defend the theo-
logical system of the Vedas^°'' against all attacks
and objections.

Adopting then this view, we shall now proceed
to develop its leading principles, first of all pointing
out some of the principal points of its controversy
with conflicting systems. The doctrines to which
the Vedanta is most decidedly oppos d, are those
which deny all existence but what is sensible and
corporeal. It combats the assumption of the
Tscharvaka, that there is only one source of know-
ledge — perception, which is eflPected by the impres-
sion on the senses of some object present to them.
The followers of the Vedanta allow, it is true,
that reasoning must in all cases, be referred to a
sensuous perception, but in common with other
sects of Indian philosophy, they admit in addition
to perception and reasoning, of a third source of
knowledge ; viz. revelation or tradition, which they
derive from the remembrance of an earlier existence.
This reminiscence may be attained by the saint,

'"'' Of. Sankara's Commentary on the Brahma-Sutra's in Windischmann :
die Philos. im Fortgang der Weltgeschichte, p. 1847.

THE VEDANTA.

381

who then communicates his wisdom in words,
which have a sacred authority with other men.
Revelations of this kind are contained in the Vedas
which are eternal, even as language itself is im-
mortal and not of human invention, but of an im-
mortal nature.^°^ It is at once conceivable, that it
would be to such a reminiscence — to such an original
connection of the holy sage with the supernatural
principle of all things — that the Vedanta would
refer its knowledge of the supra-sensible ; and in
this respect we may compare it with the anamnesis
of Plato. In this doctrine, however, it is assumed,
that the principle of all things is not corporally or
sensuously perceptible. The opposite assumption
the Vedanta attempts to refute, on the ground that
matter is by its nature inert, that it possesses not the
power either of originating motion, or spontaneously
effecting any change in itself.^"*^ If therefore it is
argued, the reality of a change in the system of
tilings be assumed, then it must be granted that
an incorporeal power exists which may produce a
change in brute matter, and become thereby the
ground of generation ai.d corruption. Now against
the Atoniical theory, which, as it was expounded by
the D'Scliinists and Buddhists, attempted to escape
from tiiis conclusion, it is objected that the atoms
must by their nature be either active or inactive ;
but if the former, then would the activity wliich
constitutes the essence of the changeable world be

*"• Colebr. 1. 1. 29, 445;; ii. IS); Windischm. Sane. p. 105, sqq. Frank 1.
1. 65.

'"" lb. i. 572. Brute matter stirs not without impulse Conversions are

not ftpontancDUS.

382 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

eternal ; while, on the latter supposition, the atoms
could never enter into combination, and the non-
existence of the world would never cease. Con-
sequently atoms could not be the causes of the
combinations and dissolutions of the world. A
mere aggregation of atoms does not constitute a
world ; if, therefore, a world is to be formed out of
them, there must be a cause existing to effect an in-
ternal relation and union between them.^^° Con-
sequently, the existence of a spirit, different in
its nature from body, necessarily follows. Now in
this system of philosophy, body is simply some-
thing which does not exist for itself, but for some-
thing else ; whereas the soul has its own existence
in itself, or in other words, enjoys an absolute
entity. As to the properties of body, they are
perceived by some other independent entity, for
the sake of which they exist ; they cannot be
percipient of themselves — the elements cannot
feel or be sentient of themselves ; the organical
body is merely the organ of perception — it has no
capacity to perceive itself. But on the other hand,
whatever belongs to the soul, e. g. thought or
memory, has a perception of itself. Thus the
perceived object must be distinguished from per-
ception. On this account the soul is not to be
understood as simply the form or shape of the
body ; fur after death the form of the body still
continues for a while, notwithstanding that it has

^" lb. i. 556, 557. I have naturally brought forward only the most essen-
tial and true bearings of the controversy. This controversy is directed against
the Vaiseschika likewise, without, however, entering into its peculiar view,
and I therefore have neglected this part of it in the text.

THE VEDANTA. 383

lost all feeling and consciousness.^^* All these
arguments apparently remount to the opinion
which was widely diffused among the Hindoos, that
besides the object enjoyed, there must also be a
subject that enjoys. In the next place, we have to
notice the arguments by which the Vedanta sought
to contravene another view of the Buddhists, which
was a close consequence of the Atomical theory
which they advocated. For it was, at least, the
tendency of these doctrines to throw doubt on the
unity of personal consciousness, since by the same
principle, that all body is resolved into spacially
extended indivisibles, time itself also may be re-
duced into temporal atoms. In opposition there-
fore to these sectaries, the Vedanta maintained, that
the soul has something more than a merely mo-
mentary existence, on the ground that it is endowed
with memory and recollection, by means of which
it knows of itself that it is the same soul which
to-day remembers having seen a particular object,
and yesterday saw it.*

112

"• lb. i. .5Cf>. This too is implied in tlie division with which the Sankhara
sets out according to the version of Windischmann, Sloka 1. Forma visibilis
est, oculus videns et visibilis ; mens vero videns, visibiles ejus afFectiones, testis
(d. h. Gott) videns est, et non conspicitur. Form, that is, is corporeal, and
therefore on the other hand , form is denied to beloii<i; to God. lb. 51. 20 ; cf. SI.
14, where IJrahma's existence is distinguished from Brahma liimself. And
yet an intelligible farm of deity seems to be recognized. Windischm. Sane,
p. 124, 8f|. ; Frank .'^ad.manda p. o ; Colebr. 1. 1. ii. 2C. In the division it is
omitted to be stated, that the visible form is not at the same time seeing also,
which forms the difference of the first and the second members. This division
into members lias reference to the division of the Sankhya, which we jireviousiy
adduced, but it is much less precise in form, since the third member is not
essentially distinct from the fourth, and there is wanting another member, that
viz. which neither sees nor is seen.

"» Colebr. 1. 1. i. r.dX

384 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

But the Vedaiita is opposed not to materialism
only, but also to that species of idealism which
denies the reality and truth of the external objects
of sensation. For, it argues, the real existence of
these objects is proved by perception, since of an
object that has been actually perceived, it is impos-
sible to suppose that it does not really exist. These
external objects are not a dream and a cheat, for
we can draw a strong distinction between a dream
and a reality ; and when we awake we are conscious
of the illusory nature of the dreams which we re-
member. ^^^

In this way does the Vedanta incline to the view
which maintains the contrariety of body and soul.^^^
But on the other hand, it was equally adverse to
the explanation which was given by the Sankhya,
of the opposition between soul and nature. As we
have already seen, this sect found it impossible to
admit, that nature possesses a formative energy ;
and even granting this, it still held, that by reason
of its blindness it is incapable of accomplishing
anything like a plan or design. Nevertheless, the
system of the world, whose origin is to be ac-
counted for, displays evident and irresistible proofs
of its having been formed by a wise and designing
Providence. But, according to the Sankhya there is
no power which can direct the active formation of
matter ; for with them, soul or spirit is as it were
a stranger in the world. Yet, wherever any effect
is accomplished, there must be either design or
else connection between the efficient objects. But

"8 lb. i. 564.

^^* See the above division.

THE VEDANTA. 385

the Sankhya does not recognize either of these ;^^^
for the contrariety between the subject which en-
joys, and the object which is enjoyed, which is the
foundation of this whole theory, does not imply
any difference of substance between the two.^^®

Now the Pasupata, which is the doctrine of
certain Sivaites, assumes that the supreme God —
the first cause of the world — rules both matter and
the embodied soul. But against such a view, the
Vedanta objects that thereby God is made liable to
a charge both of passion and of injustice, on account
of the unequal distribution of good and evil in the
world. And this objection cannot be adequately
met by simply saying, that it is the actions of the
soul which produce good and evil. For ultimately
God must be the prime mover of these actions also.
Neither will the difficulty be got rid of by the sup-
position of an infinite series of acts. Moreover,
matter cannot be ruled or worked without organs.
But if the supreme God possesses organs, he must
have a human form also, and, losing his divine
character, be liable both to pleasure and to pain
like any other finite being. Further, they insisted
on the omniscience and omnipotence of God, with
the supposition of tlie infinity of matter, and of
an embodied soul."^

It is obvious, that this opposition of the Vedanta
to all the other systems of India, would naturally
furnish it with the ground of a peculiar view ;
nevertheless we should ascribe far too high an im-

"=^ Colcbr, 1. 1. ]}. 572, 573 ; Sankhara by WindiHclim. ih. p. Ili47, &c.
"• Ih.ii. 20. »'' lb. i. .573.

IV. 2 c

386 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

portance to its controversial relations, if we were to
ascribe to them the origin of the Vedanta. Indeed
the Vedanta scarcely appears to have avoided a
single one of the very difficulties which it re-
proaches the other systems with lying under.
Moreover, in the notices which have been given us
of this philosophy, numerous inconsistencies are
discoverable, which, however, may perhaps have
originated in a confusion of different doctrines.
But even out of these apparent inconsistencies, it
is easy to evolve the general view which in all pro-
bability served as the basis of the Vedanta.

If the Vedanta denied a difference between the
material principle and the soul, it was under a con-
viction of the necessity of assuming a single prin-
ciple for all things in the universe which should com-
bine together, both the material and efficient cause."®
By contending against the Pasupata, that God does
not rule over the world, the body, and the soul,
it intended to establish the position that he is in all,
rather than over all things. This indeed is the
leading idea of the Sankhya, that God, the supreme
soul, pure sense, pure reason, and pure thought,
omniscient and omnipotent, is, notwithstanding his
unchangeable nature, the sole source of, and per-

*■• The chief object of Kennedy in the treatise already quoted, Transact, of
the R. Asiatic Soc. iii. 412, sqri. is to controvert the assertion of Cole-
brooke, that according to the Vedanta, God is not only the efficient, but also
the material cause of the world. Indeed Kennedy goes so far, as to insist that
the Indian philosophy does not recognize the idea of matter, and absolutely
denies its existence, p. 420. But it is clear, the controversy is but a dispute
about words. For the assertion, God is the material cause also, is not to be
interpreted to mean that he is a body. He is conceived solely as an intellec-
tual being, which, by his own energy and proper nature or substance, suffers
the world to come into existence.

THE VEDANTA. 387

vacles all things. God is all ; and herein alone
different from the individual, in that he is the whole.
Consequently he is both that which is changed,
and that which changes. For their supposition,
however, of such a God, no further arguments are
adduced by the followers of the Vedanta. That
God exists, cannot, they argue, be proved ; as
indeed it stands not in need of proof, for whoever
hears his name knows that he exists.^^^ He is
manifest to every one, for every individual bears
with him his self — his spirit ; from this he knows
that he himself exists, and consequently also that
God exists ; for this soul or spirit is God.^^° But,
in truth, there are but few who recognize this iden-
tity of mind with God, and the knowledge of his
existence is not a knowledoe of his nature ; and
accordingly the Vedanta teaches that God is thus
known only to a chosen few, to whom he reveals
himself: — a doctrine which need not surprise us if
we consider that they alone are capable of recog-
nizing mind to whom it reveals itself both in them
and in itself. If the opponents of this theory
objected that cause and effect must of necessity be
different things, the Vedanta adduced a number of
instances to the contrary, drawn for the most part
from the developments of life. Hair and the nails,
they urged, grow out of the same living fVame, and
inanimate matter is transformed into living worms. ^^'
As milk is changed into curd, and water into ice,
so Brahma transmutes liimself manifoldly without
any external means or instruments. In the same

»" Wiiulischm. Sane. p. 127.

'■'" II), p.. 04

"' lb. p. 114, «i.

2 c '2

388 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

way that the spider spins its web from out of its
body, and draws it in again, so Brahma creates the
world and again absorbs it into himself.^^^ These
assertions are obviously all founded on the view that
one and the same living and self-conscious essence
produces all the changes of the world, and yet re-
mains the same during all the mutations of its
properties. On this ground the Vedanta refuses to
acknowledge a difference between the enjoyed and
the enjoying substance ; and, further, attempts to
elude the objection of its adversaries, that an op-
posite cannot be produced from its opposite, by
demonstrating that they themselves contradicted
their own h3'pothesis, by making the sensible to
proceed out of the insensible, and the little from
the great.^^^

It will at once occur to the reader, that the
strongest argument on which the Vedanta could
have rested, must have been the view which per-
vades the whole philosophy of India, that the mul-
tiplicity of phenomena does not destroy the unity
of the essence. Thus it was held, that as the
essence of the soul may remain intact, notwith-
standing that the most diversified phenomena are
mirrored upon it, so the supreme mind or spirit is
not altered in its essence by the change of the
mundane objects which arise out of itself. In this
view the identity of the essence is so firmly main-
tained as to exclude every possible change that can
happen to or in it. Accordingly it is said of God,
that although he can transmute himself into all,

"^ Colebr. 1.1. 13, 20, 21, 26.

"^ lb. 20. Sankhara by Windischmann, ib. 1921, &c.

THE VEDANTA.

389

and create all things out of himself, he is never-
theless without shape or form, not affected by the
states of the universe, without passion or change,
and similar to the clear crystal, which apparently
receives into itself different colours, but in reality
is equally transparent at all times ; or to the light
of the sun or the moon, which, although it is in-
variable in itself, nevertheless appears different
according as it shines upon different objects. The
mind or spirit may be compared to pure space,
wherein all exists and goes through change after
change, but which is not itself changed thereby. In
these there is no difference between the percipient,
the perceived, and the perception ; it is without
multiplicity, and he who believes it to be multiple,
dies death upon death. ^^^

With this view it is very easy to reconcile what
Colebrooke considers a disagreement of doctrine
between the earlier and the later followers of the
Vedanta, in that the latter taught that whatever
happens in the world is merely an appearance,
being tlie illusion of Maja. They may have re-
garded all tliis as phenomenal, and even as the act
and deed of God, and yet by such expressions have
merely meant to signify that the multiplicity and
changes of all phenomena, or deeds of God, neither
contribute aught to God himself, nor ex})ress to
others the truth of his entity. For this world is
merely God's play.^^"' All the knowledge that
each single phenomenon conveys is, that God exists,

'** Colebr. 1. 1. p. 20, 23, 2G ; Shankara Acliarya : Tlie Knowledge of Spirit,
(translated by Taylor, London 1(U2. i!) I!, 30, 41.
"* Windischm. Sane. p. 142.

390 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

without revealing the nature of what he is.^^^ In
this respect all things are alike ; all exist so far
as they bear in them the truth of Brahm, and
have a part in him ; but yet it may be said of each
that it really does not exist, since it is neither his
essence nor even an expression of it. Hence the
famous apophthegms : Thou art he ; This my mind
is Brahm ; I am he. Hence, too, the ether, the
sight, and the eye, are occasionally called Brahm.
He is both great and little ; and yet, on the other
hand, all the contrarieties which the world presents
are denied of Brahm ; he is neither long nor short,
neither coarse nor fine, neither so nor so. He
enters into all forms, he pervades all without
having either a form, or being anywhere. ^^^ And
it is also on this ground, probably, that they taught
that it is not the entire Brahm that is transmuted
into mundane phenomena. ^^^

Now it must be obvious at once that such a doc-
trine possessed great facility, for representing, on
the one hand, the divine essence under the most
sensuous conceptions, and yet teaching, on the
other, that he is conceivable without any sensuous
representations. Now among the sensuous con-
ceptions under which the Vedanta apprehended the
creative activity of God, was the hypothesis which,

^'^ On this point the Vedanta expresses itself still more abstractly, when it
refuses to concede to deity an existence before the creation. Windischm.
Sane. p. 130. Quare quia vox esse plerumque res nomine et forma mutatas
significat, respectu absentiae ejus mutationis ante originem mundi ens Brahma
quasi non ens fuit. lb. p. 137. Ens quidem, bone, hoc in initio fuit, unum
sine secundo, nonnulli vero ajunt : non ens quidem hoc initio fuit, unum sine
secundo; ex eo non ente ens nascitur.

^'^ Colebr. ii. p. 11, sqq.; p. 15, 26, 27. Shank. Achar. Knowl. of the
Spir. 99, not. "' Cokbr. ii. p. 20.

THE VEDANTA. 391

SO far as we know, was most arbitrarily assumed,
that the fourtli part only of God had entered into
the world, while the other three remain unchange-
ably in heaven. ^^^ The creation, or in other words,
the emanation of the world out of God, was ex-
plained by those who embraced this hypothesis, as
an act of his almighty will, by which, however, no
particular end was designed/^" It had been thus
from eternity, and these emanations proceed for
ever through an infinite series of worlds. ^^^ The
one which was without a second, desired to become
multiple and to produce ; then it brought forth
light, which again desired to multiply and produce ;
and so water was produced, out of which, by a
similar desire, the five elements and the whole
world arose. ^^^ From these higher grades of ex-
istence, lower again proceed. Thus from ether,
which is an immediate emanation from God, air
proceeded ; and out of air, again, fire ; and water
out of fire ; and out of water, earth. In the same
order the five elements return again into each
other, and are ultimately absorbed in Brahm. What-
ever besides these elements belongs to the world, as
emanated from God, is simply a combination of
them. Such are the several envelopments of the
soul, which possess various degrees of fineness, each
finer one being inclosed within a coarser. Of
these, the finest is the understanding, which is
surrounded, in tlie next place, by the inner sense.

'*' lb. 23 ; Windischm. Siinc. p. 145, sq.
** Colobr. 1. 1, p. 20, 21. '" lb. p. 21, 22.

'*' Windischm. Sane. p. 138. The series of emanations does not aj)j)car to
be given correctly in this ))a8!«<ige.

392 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

which again is inclosed by the organs of the
body.^^'

The soul itself is not, however, an emanation or
transformation of Brahm, but a portion of him.
Its relation to the supreme Governor of all things
is not that of a servant to his master, nor of the
subject to the sovereign, but that of a part to the
whole. It is a spark of flaming fire, uncreated and
infinite, like Brahm himself. Birth and death
concern it not ; for these belong only to the union
of the soul with the corporeal investitures which
encompass it, and in which it dwells for a while.
In this habitation, this union with the body, the
soul suflTers pain, falls into darkness, and is in the
power of circumstances either for good or for evil.
It is passive, yet not, as the Sankhya teaches, abso-
lutely so, for it is a part of the creative energy
which fashions all things. But being thus united
with body, it dies death after death, and migrates
from body to body. This migration constitutes the
unrest, the disease of the soul. When one body
dies, the soul, invested with a subtle shape, wanders
invisible, and ascends to the moon, in order to
receive there the reward or punishment it deserves.
Thereupon it returns, by means of the elements,
into a plant, and from thence into an animal ; and
in this way passes through a series of transform-
ations, never attaining unto rest until, by employing
the means prescribed by the Vedanta, it is emanci-
pated from the laws of the metempsychosis.^^^

Before we proceed to declare what these means

Colebr. 1. 1, p. 21, 22, 35; Windischm. Sane. p. 138.
Colebr. 1. 1. p. 22, 23, 25, cf. Windischm. Sane. p. 174, sq.

133

"* Colebr. 1. 1. p

THE VEDANTA. 393

are, it will be necessary to examine a few inter-
mediate questions. For if the migration to which
the soul is subject, in consequence of its union with
the body, be a state of torment and pain ; if, too,
the different lots, to which destiny exposes the soul,
vary in their respective degrees of pleasure and
pain, and nevertheless depend upon the supreme
Being, the question naturally occurs, why then has
God exposed the soul to such a difference of destiny,
and in general to the metempsychosis? On the
former question the Vedanta observes, that God's
mercy must not be doubted, because happiness is
not universal in this world, since, in truth, the lot
which every soul receives in the renewed world is
dependent on its vice or virtue in a previous ex-
istence. This answer, however, is insufficient to
meet the question generally, and accordingly in the
disputes with the Pasupata it is rejected as inade-
quate, since the earlier existence of the soul must
have also ended in suffering and unrest. Conse-
quently the first question resolves itself into the
second. And even this the Vedanta appears to
evade rather than to meet satisfactorily, by carrying
us up to infinity. The series of worlds, it says, is
even infinite as the emanating energy of God is
infinite; consequently, the deserts and punishments
of the souls are also iiifinite.^^^ But the true
meaning of tliis answer is doubtless sonictliing
beyond what it literally expresses ; and accordingly,
if we only interpret it by the general tendency of the
Vedanta, it will appear well fitted to satisfy all
doubts of God's justice and mercy. The migration

'" Colebr. 1. 1, p. 21, 22, 35, 3'J; Windischn). Sane. p. 15.'!.

394 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

of the soul, as understood by the Vedanta, is
nothing else than the migrations of God himself,
to which he subjects himself as well as the soul,
these wanderings being something wholly unes-
sential, or mere illusions which affect the essence
of the soul no more than that of God. For the
Vedanta expressly teaches that the action and
passion of the soul do not concern its essence, that
they come and go without the soul's being in truth
modified or changed by them. When the soul
invests itself with organs it becomes active, and
when it puts them off it enters upon repose ; passion
may appear to be real, but it is not so in the least.
In proof of this view the Vedanta adduces the fact,
that the soul in deep sleep, and without dreams, is
neither active nor passive, then it enjoys perfect
repose, then it returns to its true and undisturbed
nature, then it is a perfect Brahm.-^^^ Moreover it
must be remembered, that the actions which are
ascribed to the soul, and which constitute its merit
or demerit, are not really its own works, but simply
those of God within it, or rather within its envelop-
ment. When man ascribes intelligence to the soul,
then, in ignorance that these are really distinct in
their natures, he commences to say, I am, I know, I
do ; whereas, in truth, a man ought to say, it is Brahma
that does everything in me ; I am without will or
action ; I experience neither birth and growth, nor
decline and death ; for I am not the internal sense ; I
feel neither pleasure nor pain ; and I am instructed
by the holy Vedas that I am a clear transparent essence.
The freedom of the will, as Colebrooke remarks, is

"« Colebr. 1. 1, !>. 21, 22, 25, 37; Shank. Ach. 7, 22.

THE VEDANTA. 395

in fact overthrown by this philosophy, which sub-
jects every individual soul to the universal ; it is
God that effects everything in individual substances
without, however, effecting in them anything
essential. ^^^

But this doctrine, notwithstanding that it thus
rejects the activity and every occupation of the
soul, nevertheless strongly insists upon their neces-
sity. It even regards them as the means of attaining
to repose. This view is perfectly consistent with
the way in which the Vedanta, on the one hand,
regards the things of this world as altogether eva-
nescent, and yet, on the other, maintains their
reality and truth, on the ground, viz. that the entity
of the supreme essence must be conceived to be in
them. On this point, indeed, the Vedanta approxi-
mates very closely to the first Mimansa. For the
occupations which it recommends to its followers
are such religious practices as the Vedas prescribe,
the religious duties which are enjoined on the dif-
ferent castes.^^^ But these means, however, are
regarded as nothing more than preparatory, as a
means to a means, or as a means which possesses
only a limited effect. The same is the case with the
other means which the Yoga recommends. ^^^ For
instance, certain grades of emancipation are as-
sumed, which this school of ])hilosophical theology
appear to have made the subjects of very fanciful
representations. Of these grades one is described
as the possession of superhuman energies, a magic

'" Colebr, ii. p. 35,39; Shank. Ach. 24, 31, 32, 31.

'** Colebr. ii. p. 27. "^ Frank Sailiinaiitla, p. 3ll, »i|.

396 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

power.^^° We also meet with the idea, that he who
worships Brahm under a particular form, but not
as the supreme God, receives his special reward
from that which he worships. The soul is repre-
sented under a very sensuous form, as gradually-
raising itself from the region of earth to the higher
spheres, under the guidance of the divine powers
who rule over those spheres. ^^^ In these an im-
perfect union of a Yogi with the Deity is supposed
to take place, consisting in an emancipation from
the metempsychosis in the present Calpa — or pre-
sent existence of the world, although it still con-
tinues doomed to fresh migrations in other Calpas/^^
In this imperfect union, accordingly, the soul con-
tinues to be invested with a fine form of body.^^^
In short, as is readily conceivable in matters of this
nature, where the fancy is free to indulge itself in a
variety of images, the greatest diversity of ideas
will be found to prevail on this subject.^^*

However, the means which are furnished by occu-
pations agreeable to duty, and among these is to be
reckoned the duty of reflecting long and deeply in
a sitting posture, is merely a means to a means ; and
is designed to lead the soul to science, to prepare it
for the reception of godlike knowledge. ^^^ This is
the only means by which perfect emancipation,
perfect bliss, can be obtained. Besides it no other
exists ; it is the only instrument by which the

1^" Colebp. 1. 1, p. 33, 38. "^ lb. p. 25, 31, 32, 38.

>« lb. p. 34. ^*» lb. p. 30, 33.

^** The extracts which Colebrooke gives contain many discrepant doctrines
on these points ; moreover, they do not sufficiently indicate the distinction of
the several systems from which they are taken.

'" lb. p. 27, 2!i.

THE VEDANTA. 397

bonds of passion can be loosed, and without it hap-
piness is unattainable.^'*^ The migrations of the
soul or mind are represented (at least by the later
Vedanta) as the consequences of error. Now the
power of error is twofold — it deceives and conceals.
It is an error of deception when a man regards as
truth the multiplicity of phenomena ; of conceal-
ment, when he is led away from God, and hindered
from seeing in him the sole verity. ^^'^ Now the way
to overcome both kinds of error is to distinguish
between God and the created world — between
abiding and unabiding substance. By this dis-
tinction we learn, that change and fluctuation are
in the world alone, but not in God.^^^ Of the
latter our soul is a part, and by it we are made
superior to change. And hereby we are, in the
next place, exalted above the low desire of obtaining
the fruits of our activity in this world and the
next, which are at best but transitory, and so are
enabled to acquire self-control and peace of mind ;
whereupon a longing for freedom arises, by means
of which the soul ultimately raises itself to union
witli God — to the conviction that it is one with
Brahm.^'*'* This is the true science which is de-
scribed as immediate cognition, the seeing of Bralnn,
whicli involves a discernment that he is identical
with his emanations, and with whatever has a part
in his essence."'" Brahm cannot be known by j)er-

"" lb. p. r>3, 38 ; Shank. Achar. 2.

*'^ Wiiidisclini. Sane. .SI. 1.3; Frank .Sadan. p. 10.

'" Windwclim. Sane. SI. ]'.) ; Frank Sadan. p. .'i. sq. Besides this, the
Vedanta admits another distinction of mundane tilings, which, however, is only
regarded as a subordinate mcanH, and which vaniblics iiiuin the acfjuisition of
true knowledge.

'" Frank 1. 1, )>. 4, oq. »«> Colel)!. li. p. ;jl{.

398 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

ception ; lie can only be contemplated in mind.
The soul must turn into itself, and get rid of its
ignorance of its own nature, in order that the mind
may shine forth in all its splendour in undivided
essence. Then it recognizes itself as the spotless
Brahm, for it is now united with God. And there-
upon even science itself shall vanish, since it is one
with the soul ; in the same way that a river empties
itself into and unites with the sea, so the soul com-
mingles with God.^^^ But as soon as science is
thus acquired all past sins are effaced, and evil
deeds are for the future excluded. As the water does
not wet the leaf of the lotos, so, too, sin touches not
him who has arrived at the knowledge of God ;
the chains of the heart are broken, all doubt dissi-
pated, and past labours are as though they had never
been. Virtue and vice no longer remain, both
alike are fetters, and it matters not whether the
fetter be of gold or iron ; eternal liberty admits of
neither.^^^

It is evident that while this doctrine of the intui-
tion of God is closely connected with those ecstatic
states which the religious Hindoos delight to in-
dulge in, it has also a reference to that state of deep
sleep, in which the soul is undisturbed by and in-
sensible to the transiency of mundane events. ^^^
And in this way a most fanciful conception is
brought in connection with occasional, if not daily,
experience, which however has given rise to many
limitations of the absolute intuition — this absolute
union of the soul with God. If the soul of the

«i lb. 26, 27, 30; Shank. Achar. 4, 5, 16. 30, 36, 37.
"=» Colcbr. ii. p. 28. ^^ lb. p. 11, 25.

THE VEDANTA. 399

individual during deep, undreaming sleep is with
Brahm, it must, it is true, be without any act, but
still it must retain the faculty of perception, and it
is only without perception so long as objects are
withdrawn from it.^^* Hence also, it is said that
the soul is not so thoroughly and indistinguishably
united with God, as a drop of water is with the sea,
but it remains distinct, and on this account returns
back again to its body/°^ In all this, probably the
prevailing idea is, that the soul indeed is at the time
united with God, but that it is nevertheless still
invested with a very fine corporeal form. A per-
fect emancipation from the personal difference of
the soul from God is regarded as unattainable in
this world. Even the sage who has arrived at the
science of the Vedanta, does not fully return into
God until after his death. ^^'^ Then he reache? to
the highest capacity of enjoyment, then he is pure
thought, and reason that enjoys, and differs from
God in nothing else but the absence of creative
power.^^' We at once see that in these attempts to
confirm its doctrine of the intuition of God by com-
parisons with the present state of the soul, the
Vedanta had nothing further in view than to indi-
cate certain approximations to the highest degree of
the soul's existence. The complete intuition of the
perfect is not indeed for this life, but reserved for
another state of existence. However on this point
it would appear, as we already remarked, that the

'*♦ lb. p. 22. '" lb. p. .".."., .17.

'^ lb. p. 33.

"' lb. p. ."5:',, .31. The last point docs not stand out very clearly, and it is
pofwible tliat it may hnvc bucn the Htibject of a variety of opinions.

400 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

school of the Vedanta was not quite unanimous. A
part of it, at least, has admitted the hypothesis that
there is a state of the soul in waking wherein it is
free from error, and merely seeing the delusion of
phenomena as though it saw them not, contemplates
God in his imperishable unity. ^^^ For a time,
indeed, even after the entrance of the soul into
Brahm, delusion still continues, but at last it ulti-
mately vanishes.^^^

With respect to action, we meet with similar
results. Thus by the assertion, that for him who
has the intuition of God every past act, whether
good or bad, are as though they had never been,
nothino; more is meant than that he will know that
whatever he appears to do is nevertheless not his
own deed, but the effect of principles within him,
which form his body and his consciousness, and are
ultimately to be resolved into the operation of
Brahm. But even supposing that the sage has
arrived at this conviction, how are the migrations of
the soul to be terminated thereby? For the soul
must ever be dependent on the transformations
which the principles of the body, when once they
have been set in motion, produce in it and its seve-
ral envelopes ; it can never be thought of as wholly
separate from the world. It appears therefore that
the Vedanta, like the Sankhya and Yoga, taught
that by the knowledge of God which is attainable
in this world, such vices and virtues alone are
annihilated as have either not yet begun or wholly
ceased to produce their consequences, but that this

^^* Frank Sadan, p. 42, 43.; Windischm. Sane. p. 125, sq.; 173, sq.
**» lb. p. 158.

THE VEDANTA. 401

is not the case with those which are actually in
work. Of these tlie operation still continues, like
an arrow in its flight, until they have exhausted their
imparted activity. ^^'^ Ultimately, however, he who,
absorbed in Brahm, is dead to the world, returns to
it neither by virtue nor by vice, and becomes
neither better by the former, nor worse by the
latter, for in the knowledge of God all activity is
annihilated. ^^^

A different opinion apparently must have been
entertained by those who regarded this knowledge
not as a consummation, but merely a progress.
Perfection, according to them, is absoluteh' unat-
tainable in that chain of causes, of which the pre-
sent existence of man is a link. This sect of the
Vedanta, while it admitted that cognition is better
than action, nevertheless asserted that action is
better than inaction, provided that a man can eman-
cipate himself from hope and fear which are the
fetters of action. Men ought to allow actions to
pass by without producing any emotion in their
souls, simply because they themselves are not really
/ the actors and originators of them. They ought in
all things to let God be acknowledged, who employs
men merely as instruments, until he judges tlicm
worthy to be fully identified with himsclf.^'^^

Such, according to the statements whicli have
hitherto reached us concerning it, is the i)hilosophy
of the Hindoos. Notliing resembling it is to be
found among any Oriental people before the eighth
century of the Christian era, when tlie Arabs began
to borrow learning and science from the Greeks.

'«> ]h p. 2!). "' ]\>. p. ll(i, (..|r(. '"' Taylor 1. 1. p. 115.

IV. 2 D

402 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

The few traces which are discoverable among the
Persians of philosophical reflection, are too rude to
be compared with it for a moment. As to the
Cabala of the Jews, recent investigations fully jus-
tify us in asserting that it belongs to a much later
date,^*^^ not to mention that in scientific value it is
greatly inferior to the Hindoo philosophy.

When now we proceed to take a review of this
philosophy in its whole extent, with a view to
determine the part which it played in the general
history of science, this, in the first place, is manifest,
that the learned Greeks at no period possessed more
than a very vague and imperfect acquaintance with
it. It is only some of its systems that have exer-
cised any influence on Grecian philosophy. How
could the very imperfect logic of the Nyaya have
made any impression on the Greeks with whom
this science had previously attained a far higher
development ? Neither are we disposed to ascribe
greater importance in this respect to the Sankhya
or the Vaiseschika directly. It is only to the Yoga
and the Vedanta that such an influence can be
ascribed witli any degree of probability, for we do
indeed find many important points of these doc-
trines, and presented too in a similar way, among
the later Greeks, without, however, any scientific

"'^ See in particular Hartmann, in the Leipz. Litt. Zeit. 1834. Nos. 63, 64.
Tost, Gesch. v. Israeliten. 3. bd. p. 195, sqq.; Ziinz, die gottesdienstlichen
Bortrage der Juden. p. 162, sq ; 402, sqq. Tholuck (commentatio de vi, quam
Graeca pliilosophia in theologiam turn Muliammedanornm turn Judaaoriim
exercuerit. Part ii, De ortu Cabbalae, 1837), agrees also in thinking that the
Cabalistical works now in existence are, comparatively speaking, of rirent
date : in Europe the earliest vestiges of the Cabala date in the twelfth century,
but in Asia they go back to the eighth century.,

INFLUENCE ON GRECIAN PHILOSOPHY. 403

grounds being advanced for them, or any national
traditions being discoverable to which they might
be traced as to their source. Such, particularly, is
the doctrine of emanations according to certain fixed,
descending degrees of existence, without their being
ascribed to any activity, or rational design, or any
other motive in the divine intelligence. For it is a
characteristic feature of this novel point of view, that
it should teach that the developments or emanations
do not affect the absolutely simple essence of the
self-developing being. Such, again, is the doctrine
of opposition between soul and corporeal nature, two
things which are it is true supposed to emanate from
God, but to differ in their manner of emanation ; the
latter being considered to be witliout participation
in the divine essence, as a phenomenon wholly
devoid of essence, whereas the soul is regarded as a
part, or at least an essential emanation of God,
which is in a certain manner connected with the
unessential and transitory developments of the cor-
poreal, but nevertheless is not thereby effected in its
reality and truth. Lastly, a further trace of this
influence is furnished by the doctrine of the later
Greek pliilosophy, that the mystical intuition of God
is the source of all knowledge, and the means by
which man may become wholly absorbed in the
essence of God, and attain to the eternal rest of
felicity. And besides this mystical doctrine, many
other traits of a like character may be discovered in
the later philosopliy of Greece.

But while we are tracing such points of resem-
blance, we are strikingly reminded of a principle,
which, in .such a history as tlie present, ought never

2 D 2

404 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

to be lost sight of, that, viz, similar doctrines among
different people may often as justly be ascribed to
the similar nature of human mind as to a com-
munication from either one to the other. A
striking instance of this principle to which we are
alluding, is presented by the philosophy of the
Sankhya and that of the later Stoics ; both of
whom, although proceeding from very opposite
principles, endeavour to lead the soul to an absolute
indiff'erence for all external objects, and all the
merely natural emotions of the soul, whether of
pleasure or of pain, and making this to be the end
of philosophy, which they regard as nothing more
than the means to this end, and accordingly confine
its utility to pointing out to man what is or not his
proper business. When now we see that the later
Stoics arrived at this result by a gradual develop-
ment of a principle which can in all its steps be his-
torically traced ; and when, on the other hand, there
is not the slightest ground for conjecturing that the
Sankhya received it from the Greeks, we cannot be
too cautious how we admit the supposition of any
historical tradition between other doctrines of the
Greeks and Hindoos, however great may be their
correspondence. A further ground for such caution
is afforded by the remoteness and little intercourse
of the two nations. If then we, nevertheless, do not
absolutely withhold the conjecture that some such
com.munication may have actually taken place be-
tween them, we are led to do so, not so much by
the similarity of the doctrines alone, as by other
considerations. Those writers of a purely Grecian
character, who first exhibit what we have termed an

INFLUENCE ON GRECIAN PHILOSOPHY. 405

Oriental tendency, were possessed of little origi-
nality. They were far from claiming the invention
of their doctrine, although it was wholly unknown
to their predecessors among the Greeks. On the
contrary, they regarded it as an ancient tradition ;
the more especially as it presented the appearance
of an opinion, which, although it was originally
formed on philosophical speculations, had neverthe-
less, in its transmission through the mouth of the
people, assumed a rude shape. And though they did
not absolutely neglect the philosophy of Greece, they
evinced a strong admiration for Oriental doctrines,
however obscurely transmitted. If, then, they pre-
tended on the weakest and slightest grounds to trace
their views to ancient Greek and Jewish traditions,
we think they would have done much better by
ascribing their origin to the remote wisdom of the
East, But, on the other hand, the mode in which
these doctrines could have passed from India to
Egypt, Syria, Asia Minor, and Greece, is a question
open to a variety of conjectures, of which each indi-
vidual is at liberty to adopt the one which in his
judgment is the most probable. For ourselves, we
shall be content witli remarking, generally, that at
periods of the preparation and diffusion of Chris-
tianity, an intellectual movement was taking place
among all the nations with whose history we are ac-
quainted, which, proceeding from the most extreme
})oint, tended to the concentration of the scattered
elements of tlie enlightenment of the whole world.
Thus, of the nations which partook of the advantages
of Grecian civilization, we expressly know that
among them Oriental aud Indian wisdom particu-

406 INDIAN PHILOSOPHY.

larly, enjoyed a high repute, and that travels to the
East were undertaken solely with a view of ac-
quiring a better acquaintance with its treasures and
records. The history of the Oriental nations, on the
other hand, is too obscure to allow us to indulge
the hope of tracing a corresponding phenomenon
among them, but on general grounds we consider it
more than probable that it actually prevailed.

CHAPTER VI.

PHILO THE JEW.

We have already observed that the disposition of
the Orientals to enrich themselves with the treasures
of Grecian philosophy, although, indeed, it was
in its origin much earlier than Philo the Jew,
nevertheless is first presented in his writings in
such a shape as to enable us to trace distinctly the
cast of thought which it brought about/ Philo
lived at Alexandria, and belonged to a distinguished,
probably a priestly, family of the Jewish race.^ In
the political fortunes of his people he appears to
have played an important part, and at an advanced
age was deputed by his nation to plead their cause
with Caligula.^

' The phenomenon of Philo and similar characters among the Jews has
been recently treated of at large by Glover in his work, ' Philo .and the Alex-
andrian Theosophy,' &c. Stuttgart, 1831, 2 vols. I have consulted this work,
but with the caution which it is allowed to be necessary. See Dahne's remarks
on the writings of Philo the Jew, in the ' Theol. .Studien u. Kritiken,' Jahrg.
1833, p. .084, &:c Dahne treats chiefly of Philo in his ' Geschichtliche Dar-
Btellungd. Judisch-Alcxandrinischcn Ileligions Philosophic.' Erste Abth. Halle,
1834.

' Philo de Lcgat. ad Caj. xxii. 507, Mang. ; Joseph. Ant. xviii. 8; Euseb.
Hist. Eccl. ii. 4; Phot. Cod. 105.

' Employments of this nature seem to be liinted at in dc .Somn. ii. 18, f>75.
For l)is embassy to Rome, cf. de Leg. ad Caj. xxviii. .072; xliv. 507, scjfj,;
JoSLpli. Ant. xviii. 8, in. The d.ite of this embassy is A. n. 40.

408 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

In the writings of Philo, we meet almost at
every page with a combination of Grecian phi-
losophy with the religious notions of the Jews, and
with oriental views of science and life. He was
intimately acquainted with the Platonic philosophy
in all its phases ; and in his writings we every-
where recognize it as forming a fundamental feature
of his own doctrine. He is almost equally fond of
employing the numerical symbols of the Pythago-
reans; from which circumstance we may fairly
infer, that at the time and place at which his own
mental character was formed, the Pythagorean phi-
losophy had again revived, and was held in high
estimation. But he is equally free in availing
himself of ideas and views belonging to the Peripa-
tetic and Stoical schools, notwithstanding that in
some points he expresses a decided opposition to the
former.^ To the Stoical school, indeed, he might
perhaps be proved to be more highly indebted for
the circle of his scientific ideas, than even to the
Platonic.^ These philosophical doctrines he has
mixed promiscuously together, not so much from any
Eclectical method that he followed, as from a persua-
sion that he was at perfect liberty to substitute one

• Thus he controverts in particular the doctrine of the eternity of the
world.

* From the numerous proofs which present themselves on all sides to those
acquainted with his works, I adduce a few only. Quod Omnis Prob. lib. xxii.
fin.: The precept of Zeno to live agreeably to nature is called a Pythian oracle;
ib. viii. 454, another ethic precept of Zeno is regarded as having been derived
from the Mosaic code. Matter is usually denominated ovcria, and it is in
its nature unmoved, de Vit. Contempl. i. 472, the notion of Xoyof airinuariKOQ,
the distinction^between TfXiiog and irpoKOTrriDv, and between \f/vxv find tpvaiQ,
the relation of the riyfjioviKov to the other parts of the soul, &c. De Mundi
Great, xiii. 9; xl. 28; Ixi. 41; Quod Deus Immut. ix, 278; Alleg. Leg. iii. 4f
114.

PHILO JUD^US. 409

for the other, as it suited his purpose ; he being, by
the character of his mind, totally incapacitated to
discern the difference in the points of view from
which they had severally proceeded. But Philo
was not content with jumbling together the dis-
cordant doctrines of the Greeks alone ; for in his
judgment the truth was to be found among other
nations, and especially those of the East. The
land of barbarians must share with Greece the pos-
session of the sovereign good f Magi and Gym-
nosophists belong to the number of the wise;'
and of all sages none are placed higher than the
priests of Jerusalem, who preside over that religious
worship which is alone worthy of the Deity.® In
short, he regards the philosophy of the Greeks, or
rather their whole enlightenment as having had its
origin in the legislation and writings of Moses f
a view which even long before his time had widely-
spread among his countrymen. Such is the prefer-
ence which he gave to his own religion, and such
the attachment he evinced towards his own people !
These national jiredilections it was the more easy
for liim to reconcile witli his fondness for the phi-
losoj)hy of Greece, the more the symbolical, or
rather allegorical mode of interpreting the Scrip-
tures which he had adopted, facilitated his desire of
finding under the literal sense which he did not

• Quod Omnia Frob. lib. xi. 45G; de Vita Cont. iii. 474.

' Quod Omnis I'rob. lib. xi. 4.56; xiv. 4.59, sq.

■ De Vita Cont. x. 4«4.

' Quod Omnia Prob.' lib. viii. 454; de Judice, ii. 34.5; Quis. Rer. Div. Her.
xliii.503. MoHea is, in short, reg;irded as a guide to jiliilosopliy. De Conf. Ijing.
XX. 4!9; The Mosiiic law is made binding on ail n.itions. De Vita Mos. ii. 1.
p. 137, sq.

410 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

wholly reject, the profoimdest ideas of philosophy.^''
This fact clearly proves, that the preference which
he felt for his own nation, was but the faint vestige
of an hereditary prejudice, since the conviction of
his judgment evidently led him to ascribe to all
nations alike an equal share of wisdom : for Philo
unconditionally adopts those cosmopolitic sentiments
which invariably spring up among a people dis-
persed and oppressed, and consequently deprived of
everything like a national polity. ^^

But notwithstanding that the most opposite opin-
ions are combined together by Philo, he was far
from adopting indiscriminately every doctrine that
laid claim to the name of civilization and philosophy.
On the contrary, he expresses a decided aversion for
every one which assumed the form either of a sen-
suous Pantheism, or of a worship of the sensible
world or mundane soul as God. Astrology, as
closely connected with the foregoing, he also con-
demns, under the comprehensive term of the Chal-
dee philosophy. ^^

In the analysis of his doctrines, which it is now
our duty to pursue, the principal task is to separate
whatever he derived from Grecian philosophy from
what had its origin in his own Oriental ideas and

'" De Conf. Ling. xxxviL 433, &c.

*^ De Mundi Great, i. 1. Toil vofiiiiov avlpbg tvOiig ovtoq KOCffioiroXlTov.
lb. xlix. 34. Similar expressions occur in his other works. To this cosmopolite
tendency of his mind, I ascribe his preference for democratical forms of govern-
ment, which removes all distinctions of rank, and his rejection of the ancient
prejudice, that slavery is an institution of nature. Quod Deus Immut. xxxvi.
fin. p. 298; Quod Omnis Prob. lib. xiL 457.

^"^ De Migr. Abr. xxxii. s^jq, p. 464. At times, however, he is himself not
sufficiently on his guard against confounding God with the soul of the world.
Leg. Alleg. i, 29, 62,

PHILO JUD^US. 411

education. The mutual relation of these two ele-
ments of his system is in general of this nature,
that while the great majorit}'^ of his conceptions and
ideas are borrowed from the Grecian philosophers,
yet the spirit of his theory, by which we must be
guided in ascertaining its more special determina-
tions, is essentially founded on Oriental views. We
have already called attention to Philo's prejudice in
favour of his national religion, and, in perfect con-
sistency with this prejudice, we find him entertain-
ing the opinion, which, as we formerly observed,
was widely diffused af this period, that the present
state of knowledge was narrow and mean as com-
pared with that of olden times. The wisdom of his
own age Philo regarded as corrupted with many
sophistical arts.^' He purposed, therefore, to expound
the ancient lessons of holy wisdom, confessing,
however, that the accounts of an eye-witness ought
to be held in higher esteem than he who has only
heard and received the testimony of others.^* Thus
was he led mainly to the Oriental view of things, to
which, however, he thought it possible to give the
form of Greek science, not merely as an ornament,
but as a means calculated indeed to lead to a higher
or profounder view, without however pretending to
determine how far it was absolutely necessary.
With such a view there was naturally connected a
depreciation in some degree of Grecian philosophy,
although this aversion is not universal. It is most
strikingly apparent in the encomiums which he
lavishes upon the Essenes as the true examples of

■' Dc Poster. Caini, xxx. 244 ; Quod Oniniii I'rob. lib. xi. 456.
'* Do Conf. Ling, xxviii. 4-27; dti Migr. Abr. ix. 143.

412 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

ancient moral purity among the Jews, For, accord-
ing to Philo, the Essenes were above those idle
disputes about terms, into which the Greek allowed
himself to be seduced. ^^ All verbal disputes the
former left to logic, as unnecessary for the possession
of virtue. In the same manner they did not trouble
themselves with physical questions, except such as
concern the knowledge of God and the creation of
the world, but held that all others far surpass the
powers of human intelligence. They cultivated the
study of morals alone, guiding themselves therein
b}'^ their national laws and customs, and employing
symbols for the conveyance of their lessons.^^ It
is to such a view that we must ascribe the unfavour-
able opinions he occasionally advances of the Ency-
clic sciences, and some parts of philosophy, and
even of philosophy or human science itself. He
considers the aim of human wisdom to be the know-
ledge of the whole world. But this knowledge, he
says, both transcends man's capacity,^'^ and in itself
cannot reveal to him more than a reflection, a
shadow as it were of God.^^ The whole world, if
it could be intelligibly explained in a single term,
would not express the truth of God, but merely the
majesty of his ministering forces.^^ Philo then

^^ Quod Omnis Prob. lib. xiii, 459. Ai^a Tripupysiae iWrjviKwv bvoyta-

TU)V.

1* lb. xii. 4.58. Of. de Carit. 2 fin. p. 386.

" Quod Oinnis Prob. lib. xii. 458.

** AUeg. Leg. iii. 32, p. 107. Ei0' oi Soicovvreg apiara fiXotro^tXv tipavav,
oTi airo Tov Kufffiov /cat tCjv /itpiov avTov Kai rwv ivvTrapxovcrwv tovtoiq
Swafiiuv dvTiXrjxl/tv iTroiTjadfiiOa tov airiov , . , . o\ If) ovtu)q tTriXo-
yi^opavoi Sid OKidq tov Biov KUTaXafifidvovart Std Twv tpywv tov r£\v(-

TtJV KUTaVOOVVTlg.

'' De Legat. ad Ciij. i. 54(5.

PllILO JUD.EUS. 413

proceeds to show at length, after the manner of the
Academical or Sceptical schools, how little con-
^dence man can place in his sensuous representa-
tions of things, and even in his intellectual thoughts ;
how great is the deception of the senses ; how little
agreement as to principles was to be found among
the different sects ; that there is no certain criterion
of truth, and that consequently the wisest course is
to withhold assent, without rashly adopting any par-
ticular opinion.^" Pliilo adopts it as a general
principle that the knowledge of the outward world
is either beyond the powers of man or else of little
value, and on this ground he estimates very lowly
the value of physical inquiry, except so far as it is
in connection with the knowledge of God. The
great end to which he would lead man is to know
himself, to return into himself, and there to occupy
himself with the worthiest object in the whole
world, — his own soul.^^ Yet ho.v unfit is man for
this task ! for human reason, however well adapted
it may be to learn the nature of all besides, is like
the eye, which sees other objects but not itself. No
one can say what the soul is, whether blood, or air,
or fire, or even whether it is corporeal or incor-
poreal. How then can any one say what the soul
of all is?^^ Accordingly he adopts the Socratic idea

" De Ebrict. xl.— xlix. .'JBi, »<{q.; do Conf. Ling. xxv. 423, aq.

"^ De Migr. Abr. xxxiii. 4(>.'); xxxv. 4Gf).

•^ Leg. All.i. 2f), C>2. 'O voiic o *v tKuartii I'l^iov rd fiiv t'tWa Svvarai

rd iiiv dWu 6p^, iavrov H ovx o(>^, ovriti Kui o I'ofc rn fih' dWa vof'i,
iavrbv £i ot KaraXafiftcivfi • iiVcirw yan, ri'f rt i(jri Kai TroTanug,
irvtvfia Ti rtl/in 17 7n"(> f; a>)(i i) ri tripov mofiu ■ 1/ Tunniirov yt, I'l on
Oioin't iuTiv fi TrdXtv tiffw/ujroj'. dra oiiK tvi'iOiif; u'l nipi Otov OKinro-

414 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

that the end of all science is the conviction that
man knows nothing, for one only is wise, and that
is God,^^ At other times he joins himself to the
New Academy and thinks that God alone knows
the true ground of things, although the probable
ground, which is discoverable by apparent conjec-
ture, may be easily found even by man.^*

Now the more Philo limited the extent or credi-
bility of human science without any design of
resting in the Scepticism of doubt, he naturally
sought the more zealously for a higher source of
knowledge. God alone, he 'taught, can furnish a
knowledge of truth ; it is his gift.^^ Now the
mode in which man is to arrive at this higher
source of truth, is described in general, as a re-
ligious inspiration of the soul, and the lessons
which are thus furnished, as for instance, his own
expositions of the holy scriptures, when they take
a higher flight than usual, he considers as mysteries
fit to be trusted to the initiated alone.^*^ As to

fjitvoi ovaiag ; o'l yap Trig t'^tag 4'^XVi ''^'^ oiiaiav ovk iffaai, irdg av
Tztpi rriq tuiv oXuv ypvxvQ aKpifiwffaitv • De Great. Mund. xxiii. 16.

'••^ De Migr. Abr. xxiv. 457. To yap [irjSiv oieaOai eiSsvai Trspag iiriffTTi"
utjg evog ovroc fiovov (TO(pov rov Kai fiovov Otov,

'^ De Great. Mund. xxiv. 16, fin.

^^ De Conf. Ling. xxv. 424. Kai fii^v (r(pa\\ofiEvo)v ye rwv Ka^ vnag
aiirovg Trtpi ri rovv Kai aiffOtjaiv Kpir7]pioiv drayicr] to ukoXovBov 6/ioXoytiv,
oTi 6 Bibg T(p fiiv rag ivvoiag, ry Se rag avriXyxpug iTrofijipti, Kai lanv ov
tCjv Kay rj/iag fiiputv X"P'? ''" yivofitva, aX\d Tov h' hv Kai t'lfiilg yiyova-
fiiv, Idiptai Ttdaai.

■■" De Gherub. 14 in. p. 147 ; Leg. Alleg. iii. 33, 107 j de Decal. 10. p.
187. On the other hand, Philo disapproves of the heathen mysteries, as
alien to the Mosaic law, and is of opinion that whatever is good may be openly
communicated to all. De Vict. Offer. 12. p. 260. It is plain that he admits
of no mysteries, but such as of themselves must ever remain concealed from
those who have not been duly prepared for them. Quod omnis prob. lib ii.
p. 447. Why then does he (de Cherub. I. 1.) recommend his Mysta; to divulge

PHILO JUDJLUS. 415

these religious inspirations, his own statements are
JO far inconsistent, that at times he makes merely a
general state of sentiments and mental direction to
be indispensable for the right reception of the divine
gift, but at others requires a very special and ex-
traordinary state of mind.^^ The former is the
case when he makes innocence and faith to be the
means by which man may arrive at a knowledge of
the divine ; the latter when, in the manner of the
Greeks, he describes a certain Corybantic enthu-
siasm as opening to man a view of the world of
ideas, which are the divine prototypes.^^ We must
not, however, suppose that Philo's meaning is
actually the same as that of the ancient Greek phi-
losophers, who regarded such a state of phrensy as
being a divine inspiration indeed, but yet did not
on that account seek to exalt it above a calm and
sober science ; and the knowledge acquired by
scientific reflection. Moreover, by this enthusiasm
Philo himself does not intend any violent emotion
of the soul, but merely a stale of repose and peace,
while the soul enjoys the highest excellence, the
gifts sent from God. For he depicts this state as
an exemption from care and toil, and even from the
practice of virtue. All things come in abundance
without art, and by the bountiful provision of
nature itself; the good comes spontaneously. In

nothing? I'crliaps we may regard tliis advice as nothing more than one of
those rhetorical formula;, which are far from unfrcquent in Philo.

" Dc MigT. Abr. 24 p. 45G. Tt'c ovv if KoWa (8c. 7rp6c ^hv di6v ) ; ri'c ;
tvni-j^fta Sijirov Kai ■/rinriC apuo'Cown yap Kai ivovniv at aQtra'i d<p^af)Tii>
<pi'ifTfi hdvoiav. In other passjigcH, piety is recommended merely us ii nieanit
to enthusiasm. De Monarch, i. 9, 221, Hq.

** Dc Crcat. Mund. xxiii. IG ; de vita Cont. ii. 473.

416 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

this divine rapture the soul is first of all freed from
external perception and absorbed within itself.
Similarly, the inspiration of dreams is described as
a return of the soul into itself; which is also made
to be its state when awake, and, forcibly possessed
with the lessons of philosophy, it forgets all things
that belong to its habitation in the body. The
soul in these states is deprived of its free volition,
and the activity of its own judgment. Whatever
the soul produces out of itself, is for the most part
faulty ; on the other hand, that which it brings
forth after having been fructified by God, is perfect
and complete.^^ Philo is not deterred by a false
shame from adducing his own repeated experience
as an example of these states, and confesses that
often when he has set down to his work full of
philosophical ideas, and with a matured conception
of the matter in hand, his intellect has been void,
and he has been forced to give up the task without
advancing it in the least. At other times, when
he has disposed himself to work without a clear
perception of his task, he has, he sa3's, suddenly
found himself full of ideas and thoughts which
came from above, and he has been so carried away
by the inspiration as to forget all external matters,
the place where he was, and whatever was present
before him, even himself, and what he had said and
written. ^° We must here call particular attention

*• De Migrat Abr. xxxiv. 4G6.

'" De Cherub. 9 in. p. 143; de Migr. Abr. vii. 441. Ton fitXtrai fiev teal
TTOVoi Kai auKijatiQ t]av)^a!^ov(nv, dvaCiSorai di dvtv rixvrjq, (pvcrstog
■irpofit]^ei(f TrdvTa dBpoa, ndaiv uiiptXifia. Koktirai St »/ ^opd twv avro-
fiaTiZ,0}ikvu>v dya^wv a^tffif, inuSriinp 6 vovt; d<pierai ruiv Kara rag
iciag tTrijioKaQ ivipyfiwv Kai uiOTrep tuv iKova'uxtv riXevdepwrai Sid rijv

PHILO JUD^US. 417

to the fact, that he expressly describes this state of
the soul as passive, as distinctive of free volition,
and that he considers himself therein to be merely
an instrument of God, and makes its special merit
to be the emancipation of the reason, not only
from a consciousness of all external relations, but
also of its own emotionsi^^ Such a state, it is
easily conceivable, cannot fall to the lot of all men.
For althouo'h God's mercv is universal, it is onlv
natural that a certain order should prevail in the
divine economy to regulate the attainment of the
supreme gifts of mercy. ^^ It is therefore that
Philo speaks of the profoundest wisdom which the
God-inspired have received, as of a mystery which
is not to be revealed indiscriminately to all.

This mystical element in the opinions of Philo, is
decisive as to the predominantly Oriental character
of his doctrine. Even though in the theory of a
divine inspiration, whereby God permits man to
contemplate his own essence, some of the expres-
sions and mystical conceptions of Plato are intro-

Tr\i\Q\3V Tuiv vofiiviDv Koi acta(jTaTii)Qiirofi^povvT<t)v to kuavrov

TTuOoQ, nvpiuKic iraOiov oiOa, Sitjyovfiivog ovk ataxt'VOjjai. (SovXrj^iiQ
idTiv iiTt napd Ti'/v avvi'i-^q tCjv kuto. (piXorrofiav coyficiTwv yn(i6i)v
iXOtlv Kai d xp'l avvQi'ivat uKpifiCJQ icdiv dyovov Kai artipav tvndjj' ti'/v

Sidvoiav dirpaKTOC &ini\\dyr]v tVri 5i OTt KtvvQ iXOwv nXi'jpr}^

i^aiipi'tfc lyn'npijv, tTrtrn^o/itvwv Kai (nretpo/jifvwv avojOtv aijxtvuf^ twv
IvBvfiTiiidrojv, uir vnu kcitoxijq iv^iov KopvjiavTiuv Kai ttc'ivtwi: uyvotlv
Tuv TOTTov, roi'C napovTOQ ifiavroj', tu Xtyojiiva, tu yna<p6fitva.

•' Quis Rcr. Div, Her. liii. 511. "Ewe f^tv ovv iti TrepiXu/iTrti Kai ircpt.
iroXu I'muiv 6 vovCj fie<T7]^(3piv()V ola <t>iyyoc tit; Truaav ti)v \pvxriv
arax'fwv, iv iavrolQ uvtk; oh Karixofii^a- iTrnSdv Si npdi; SiKT/tdt;
yii't]Tai Kara rii iIkoq tKffTafrif; >) tv^io^ intTriTrTn KaToxMTiKi) Kai
ft a via,

lb. lii, .510. ^avXifj Ci oi' Sri/xiQ ipfirji'il yivio^ai ^lov, uxTTt KV(ii(0(;
/iox^»7poc ouSiiQ Iv^ovai^, fioptp tuvt ItpapuvTTU, k.t.X. De .Monarch, i. D,
221.

IV 1>

V E

418 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

duced, still the whole cast of Philo's ideas on this
point is very different from the Platonic, even if we
make but little allowance for what is merely figu-
rative in the latter. With Plato the intuition of
ideas is throughout inseparable from scientific de-
velopment ; whereas Philo either wholly neglects
the latter, or else regards it as notliing higher than
an uninfluential means of purifying the soul,
and decidedly rejects the opinion, that the scientific
development of human thought can enable man to
apprehend the divine.^^ But this is not the only
point in which Philo leans to the Oriental view of
things, although it is precisely the one on which all
the others of a like nature depend, since it lays a
foundation for the contempt of scientific culture
and profane pursuits, and thereby opens a wide
field for the idle play of fancy. Correctly viewed,
Grecian philosophy is nothing more than the abun-
dant source from which Philo liberally drew the
materials with which he fed his fancy, and the
means of indulging it ; and we must therefore,
strongly condemn the weak prejudice, which would
make the Platonic theory to be the main consti-
tuent of his doctrine. The Platonic philosophy, in
short, does not even furnish exclusively the ele-
ments with which his fancy sports. The Aristo-
telian and Stoical systems may well contest this
title with it.^'^ It is at once conceivable, that such
a mixture of heterogeneous elements, held together

^* De Post. Caini, xlviii. 258. tov ovrwgovTog tvapytia fiaXXov avriKa-
Ta\afi[3avofi'tvov i] Xoyoiv aTroBii^ei avviffrafisvov.

^' I must in this respect, oppose the opinion which my respected teacher
Neander advances in his Genetischen Entwickelung der Vornehmsten Gnostichen
Systeme, p. 2. Crenzer judges more correctly of his relation to Plato, although
apparently proceeding from another view of the Platonic philosophy, than I

PHILO JUDiEUS. 419

by no other bond than that of fancy, should have
proved an almost invincible impediment to stability
of doctrine, even though it must be admitted, that
all his statements, however vague and inconsistent
they often are, were invariably based upon a certain
general view, which was derived from Oriental
ideas, and is of a religious rather than a philosophi-
cal character. As philosophers, we find it impos-
sible to estimate his merit very highly, although as
historians, he particularly demands our notice,
for having brought into course a certain chain of
ideas, which both in themselves were not without a
philosophical import, and which also exercised con-
siderable influence on the subsequent development
of philosophy. Probably, he was not even the first
to give currency to them, but only adopted them,
while perhaps, the merely partial diffusion of his
works deprives him of all claim to the merit of
having put these ideas in extensive circulation ; and
his writings possess the merely relative merit of
being the only source from which we are able to
prove the oldest existence of these ideas, among
those who enjoyed the benefits of a Grecian edu-
cation. That he was not the first to originate, but
adopted them from others, is to our minds, convin-
cingly proved from the mode in which he advances
them, and supposes their truth to be already de-
monstrably established ; as also from the little
inventive powers which his works exhibit through-
out.

But whatever may have been the predominant

can think right to adopt. S. Kritik der Schriften des Juden Philon in d.
Theol. Studien u. Kritiken. Jahrg. 1832. i. Hft.

2 E 2

420 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

element of Philo's system, its heterogeneous nature
necessarily involved his positions in great inconsist-
ency. The necessity which he felt of availing
himself of the treasures of Grecian civilization
and philosophy, prevented him from carrying out
his mystical theosophy in perfect purity. For there
was something inconsistent with this higher wisdom
when he ascribed to the mental training, furnished
by the Encyclic and philosophical sciences, a merely
negative value, and making their virtue to consist in
purifying the soul from error, and rendering it capa-
ble of receiving and maintaining the higher wisdom
for which they also awaken the desire. In this spirit
Philo sought to show that the Encyclic sciences,
grammar, rhetoric, geometry, and so forth, are
necessary, not only for the purposes of life, but also
for protection against the arts of sophists, and the
delusions of the senses. Without these man cannot
enjoy with confidence even the higher wisdom.^'^
It is clear, that in these preparatives for philosophy,
Philo included the investigations of logic, since it
was only by the aid of these that the Encyclic
teaching could be considered duly fitted to contend
against the frauds of sophistry. Thus Philo makes
the ignorance of these arts to be the reason why
Abel fell by the hand of Cain ; and asserts that
Aaron was associated with Moses in order to show
that the richness of intellectual ideas requires to be
combined with the cultivation of the powers of
outward expression.^^ If therefore Philo advised

^5 De Ebriet. xii. 364.

^'^ Quod Deter. Pot. Insid, 10, sqq. p. 197, sqq ; de Migr. Abr, 13, 14,
447, sq.

PHILO JUD^US. 421

a neglect of the body, the sensuous perception, and
the powers of speech, he must not be understood
thereby, as recommending the complete abstraction
from them, for this would be to recommend death
itself; but what he meant is, that man should re-
press all fondness for the sensible world and the
language of flattery, in order to raise himself above
them, and to see in himself their master, instead of
their slave.^'^ But Philo does not stop here. For
if the senses and language are of use to man, the
next step is naturally to ascribe to them a positive
value ; and if worldly knowledge is not absolutely
to be rejected, it is impossible to mistake the im-
portance of the senses for acquiring a knowledge
of mundane things. Accordingly Philo does not
hesitate to avow a belief that they furnish food to
human reason ; and he shows at great lengtli, that
without them man could not judge of black and
white, hard and soft, and the like.^^ Indeed he
goes so far in this direction of thought as to con-
cede to the passive emotions of the soul {Tradri) a
share in tiie cognition of objects ; for, he argues,
pleasure is subservient to the preservation of the
the species ; pain and fear move the soul and teach
it to despise nothing. ^^ Even if he is unwilling to
grant, that man may discover the truth of what
really is, and its operations by means of corporeal
things, still he is far from controverting tlie hypo-
thesis, that the senses and the body arc perhaps the

" DeMigr. 1,2,36.

*• Alleg. Leg. iii. 18, 90 ; de Tlant. Noe, xxxii. 349. Td rpitpov tov vovv
rjfiwv larip oiff^/jerif.
•* Aileg. Leg. ii. 3, 60.

422 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

instruments by which God leads man to a know-
ledge of the invisible, incorporeal essence, i. e. of
himself.'*" In short, he represents sensuous per-
ception as being the mean between reason and sen-
sible things ; for the latter being fecundated by
God, give rise to a desire in the soul, and percep-
tion is thereby rendered possible ; which, however,
could not take place, so long as the reason, on the
other hand, did not yearn towards the external world
and set the senses in motion.^^ This view of sen-
sation evidently reverts to the Stoical hypothesis of
a ruling portion of the soul, which expands itself
from the centre to the periphery of the living being.
Now as this hypothesis was, in its essential features
at least, designed to explain the formation of
thought by sensuous perception, or to allow it to
arise out of the reciprocal action of the internal
and external, it is obviously in direct opposition to
Philo's prevailing purpose, which was to allow to
the sensual no share in true knowledge, and indeed
to censure it as seducing the soul from the true
path of wisdom. Perception, he is of opinion, is
not, undoubtedly, in itself evil ; indeed it may be
regarded as a species of good, in so far as it permits
us to become cognizant of outward objects in their

De Somn. i. 32, 649. Oiide yap ciXXo twv ovtojv oijSev dau)fiaTov
ivvofjffai Svvarov, on fir] rrjv dpxV^ Xa^.ovrag dnb erwjudrwv. De Ebiiet.
xxviii. 374, though he speaks of creatures, it is plain from what follows, that he
thereby means corporeal things : Trap' vfxSjv fiiv oiickv, vapu Se Srsov Xri'^ofiai,
ovndvTa KTr)[iaTa, Si vjiHv Si laojg. opyava yap virrjoerrjaovra raTg d^a-
vdroig avrov ■)(dpi<jip yiykvrja-is.

*^ Leg. Alleg. i. 1 1, 49. In these matters we must not look for consistency
in Philo especially, as this part of his system is very negligently worked out-
Thus it ill accords with the doctrine quoted above, that he maintains that
reason must perceive even when it is does not will do so.

PHILO JUDiEUS. 423

truth ; but still it is so mixed up with the seductive
lusts and other passions of the soul, as to be incon-
ceivable in any other light than as a mixed good
and ill. Pleasure seduces and deceives man by
leading him to regard as profitable and good much
that is wholly worthless ; pleasure is absolutely evil,
and the good have no part in it/^ When according
to its nature it strives to arrive at perception, it there-
by imparts to the soul the evil also which belongs to
itself, and thus perception deceives the reason by im-
parting to it, together with the conception, a love also
of the external object." This delusion of sensation
Philo regards as inevitable so long as man abandons
himself to perception, on the ground that the
connection between pleasure and perception is so
close that the latter cannot come into contact with
reason except by means of the former. For, ac-
cording to Philo, pleasure forms the link by which
the two heterogeneous parts of the soul, reason,
and sense, are held together/* He might, therefore,
well say, that in the human race nothing is done
without pleasure ; and if he added the qualification
that the good and the bad take the idea of pleasure
very differently, the latter regarding it as some-

Leg. Alleg. iii. 20. 100. "H ci aiaQrjmc aKpai(pi>u)c SiSioai rd (Tuifiara
ovTuig, wf lyii <l>viTiwQ iKtlpa, TrXdff/iarog Kui 7"fX'''/C tKTog. lb. 21. XiKTtov
ovv, on rj ai(jir](ii<2 ovrt raiv (pavXoiv, ovte twv <nrovSai(i)t> Itrriv, dWd

fitrrnv ri avrrj K(ii kchvov (Toifiov re Knl dipnovoQ 6 Si o<pic, »/ »)(^oj'J7,

^5 lavTiig '"■'■' l^ox^Tjpd. Cid Tovro Iv fiiv <nrovoai(i> ovx ivgiaxfrat, rb
napdirav, fiovoQCk avriJQ 6 (pavXoQ airoXauei.

" De Great, Mund. ^D, p. S9, sq.

** Leg Allfg. ii, 10, 7.0. AuoTv TrpoyiyovoTwv, vov Kai aiVOZ/fffojc. fa»
ro\)Tii>v yvfiVMV Kara rbv CtCr)Xo)iiivov TpoTTov inrapxovTuiv dvdyKi] rpirriv
7)Sovrjp avvayotybv djitpuZv virdp^ai vpbQ r^v Tuiv vorjruiv (cat aia^rfTotv

ivTiX7)\l/lV, K.T.X.

424 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

thing good, but the former as only necessary,*^ this
implies that every one is necessarily subject to the
delusion of pleasure, unless perhaps, what is not
improbable, Philo here forgot his own general
view of pleasure.

If then, in fact, we find the views of Philo con-
cerning the primary principles of human conception
but little consistent, not to say intrinsically opposed
to each other, we can hardly expect that he could
have formed a consistent doctrine of the scientific
development of ideas. We have already remarked,
that he held demonstration in little esteem. Equally
slight was the value whicli he put upon correct
distinction.*^ All these points strikingly indicate
his contempt for every indirect acquisition of know-
ledge, and his great reliance on the immediate
intuition of truth. Connected herewith, in Philo's
mind, was probably, the view that all knowledge
gained by means of perception is limited to the
corporeal i*'^ while true knowledge, on the other
hand, is based on the cognitions of the soul, which
it contemplates immediately in itself by its own
proper nature, and apart from its combination with
the body. Nevertheless, we find traces of a dis-
position to admit a species of mediation of know-
ledge by perception, which rises gradually from the
lower to the higher. Perception, viz. refers to the

** Leg. Alleg. ii. 6, 70. 'AW' 6 fitv tpavXoQ oiq aynS'^jj riXii({> xP';<^£''"at,
o Si aTTOvSaiog ojg fiovov avayKau^' x^P'S 7<*P ilSovfiq ovSiv yivtrai tujv
iv T<p 5vr]ri^ ykvci.

*" De Agric. 32, p. 321, sq.

*' This is supported by all the passages already quoted touching the grounds
of knowledge. Leg. Alleg. ii. 18. OvTt yap 6 vovq Six"- ai<j5i]anjiQ i^Siivaro
icaraX.-i/BtTv ^(pov fj (pvrbv f] Xt'jov rj ^v\ov r) avvoXioQ auifia.

PHILO JUDiEUS. 425

individual, by which term Philo understood the
individual object/^ Now in opposition to this
sensuous cognition of the individual substance, he
conceived of the hio-her knowledo-e as of a know-
ledge of species, which are not like individual
objects — perishable, but imperishable and eternal,^^
the copies of the prototypes in the divine intellect.^"
However, Philo does not firmly adhere to this
view, he is not content with advancing from indi-
viduals to species, and stopping there; but when he
is considering the subordination of the species to
the genera, he views the latter as the higher, and
consequently teaches that the former, as comprising
less under them, are transitory.^^ By this mode
of conception Philo proceeded constantly from the
special to the general ; and regarding the former
as compared witli the latter, if not as transitory, yet
at least as valueless, he finally referred the truth of
all things to the highest generality.. This method,
as far as we are able to see, Philo steadily followed,
and by a natural consequence arrived at the view
tliat the most general is the supreme, and the pure
truth. The original archetype of all things — the
supra-sensible world — is, to his mind, the idea of
ideas — the highest genus ; but still this is only to
be understood in a subordinate sense ; for the

*• De Great. Mund.4C, p. 82. Tow ck ala^ijrov Kai liri fiipovz dvSfputTrov.

*' lb. 13, p. 9. Here we have, it is true, the expression to. y'tvr}, but it is
clear from the context that ilci] is meant.

*" De Conf. Ling, 14, p. 414.

" De Mutat. Nom. 11, p. .590. To fxiv yap ilSog Kal fipaxv f«' <l>^nf)r6v,
TO (i yivoc iroXv rt av Kal u<p^a(irov. De Cherub. 2, p. l.'iO. In both
passages lie is speaking of virtues, but the proposition is general. In the
second yivoc is opposed to iv ii'tpii and to tUoQ, and it is said in general yiroc
ll irav d(pbapTov.

426 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

highest genus, in the first and truest sense, is
God.^2

Philo, therefore, believed that the scientific de-
velopment, rightly understood, is an advance
from the lower notions, through higher and higher,
to the highest. However, that he should not have
followed this gradation methodically, is easily ex-
plicable from the general cast of his ideas, which
led him to confine his efforts to the single object of
obtaining the knowledge of God, at all events, and
even at the expense of contempt for all lower
branches of knowledge, which, although he could
not look upon them as good, he was nevertheless
constrained to cultivate as indispensable. With
such a view the special was necessarily merged in
the general, as is clear from what he advances on
the idea of God. He generally designates God as
that which is, which, according to Philo, is the
supreme genus. It was therefore quite consistent
in him to maintain, that in the idea of God the
multiplicity of all true entity is united ; and Philo
frequently expresses himself in such a manner as
apparently to favour the conclusion that he had
adopted such an opinion. Thus he calls God some-
times the One and the All, which embraces and fills
all ;^^ at others he talks of the reason as seeing,
when it has arrived at God, the corporeal ideas.^*
Nevertheless the fact, that it is not God but the

^* De Great. Mund. 6 fin. p. 5. To apx^rvn-ov TrapaSeiyfia, iSs rwv
Ictaiv, 6 ^(ov Xoyoc. Leg. AUeg. ii. 21 fin. p. (32. To St yiviKuraTOv tariv
6 ^(6q Kal SivrtpoQ 6 ^eou Xoyog.

" Leg. Alleg. i. 14, p. 52.

^* De Ebriet. 25, p. 372. "0 vovq, orav S'fo^opjjSffC -Trpbg avrt^ r<f ovri
ykvrjTai, KaTa^Eui^itvog rdf auw/idrovc iS'eae,

PHILO JUDiEUS. 427

"Word which proceeds from him, that Philo calls the
idea of ideas, affords undoubted proof that he was
indisposed to acknowledge any multiplicity soever
in God. And consequently he proceeds to demon-
strate that God alone exists for himself, without
aught beside himself, without multiplicity, and
without mixture.^^ He calls him, therefore, at
times, the one, the simple, or the good, or some
other indication of his essence, but in general in
the strict sense of the term, maintains that God is
without properties.^^ Now although, in its imme-
diate application, this assertion may refer only to
sensible properties, according to the phraseology of
the Stoics, it must, nevertheless, be taken also in a
more general signification ; for Philo expressly
declares that no name can properly be ascribed to
God. The existent cannot be expressed ; he simply
is." Consequently, the properties which are
usually attributed to God must be regarded as in-
adequate designations of his essence ; he is better
than goodness itself, purer than the one, and more
prime than the unit.^^ Even when Philo is re-
garding God as the creative reason, he declares him
to be higher than virtue and science ; liigher indeed
than even the good and beautiful.^^ This doctrine
of the namelessness of God, whicli, taken in the

" Leg. Allcg. ii. 1, p. GG; dc Mut. Nom, 31, p. 606.
" Leg. Allcg. i. 15, p. 53.

" De Somn. i. 39, fin. p. C5,5. Strtv^d/itj^oc, li tan ri rov uvroQ ovn/ia,
aaipaiQ tyvu), on Kvpiov fikv ovCtv, o c' &v iliry tiq, KaTaxpwfiivo^ Iptl,
Xiyiv^ai yap ov TrtfvKtv, dWd fiovov tlvai to ov.

"• De VitaCont. l,p. 472.

*' De Great. Miind. 2, p. 2. K«« on to /xiv Spaarijpiov 6 twv oXwi/ vovq
IfTTiv fi\iicpiviaTaroctcaiiKpai(pvi(fTaTOQ,KpHTru)v Tt fi apiTi},Kai Kpiiriwv
fi liritxrrfuri, rat Kptirruv f/ avTb ri aya^6v Koi aiiTb Tb koKSv.

428 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

full sense of the word, must apply also to the names
of God and being, appears to be connected with the
national feeling of the Jews, which forbade the true
and holy name of God to be uttered except by the
holy and the wise.^° With this doctrine of the
unmentionableness of God, the belief that in his
nature he is unknowable, is naturally connected.
It is even requisite for his felicity that he should
have no peculiar character ; it is only the existence
simply, and not the essence of God, that can ever
be known. ^^

It is very natural that a doctrine like Philo's,
which essentially directed its efforts to the problem
of exhibiting the Deity to man, and ascertaining
by some means or other the relation between them,
but which, nevertheless, was driven to the con-
clusion that man can neither conceive of nor give a
name to God, should fall into contradiction Math
itself, and consequently in the course of its expositions
be continually driven to abandon its previous posi-
tions. Of this there are numerous instances in the
writings of Philo.'^^ In the present place we shall
call attention to a few only, although in the further
progress of our disquisitions many others will
occur. We might perhaps be disposed to consider

*' That the name Beog is inappropriate is expressly said, De Conf. Ling. 27,
p. 425.

" DeLeg. ad Caj, 44, p. 597, fin.; de Vita Mos. iii. 11, p. 1.52.

" Quod Deus Iramut. 11, p. 281. Ot /iiv ovv >^«/x'K iToipoi vorjraTg Kai
dffuifidTOLg <j)V(ji<nv ivoftCKtiv Svva.fii.voi, ovhfii^ twv ytyovorwv iSeg,
TrapajSaWovffi rb ov dXX' iKJ3il3a(JavTeg avro Trdaijg TroioTijrog .... iv
yap Tuiv dg Tr)v jiaKapiortjra avrov Kal Tt/v uKpav iiSaiixoviav i]V rb
■i/ikrjv dviv xapaKTt}poq rfjv virap^iv KaTaXajifiavto^ai .... Tr)v Kara to
tlvai fiovov (pavraciav ivtceKavro, firj iio^(pwffavT£g avro. lb. 13, 282. 'O
c dpa ovci ri{i v<^ KaraXrjTrrog, on fit) Kard to tJvai fiovov.

PHILO JUD^US. 429

it in some degree allowable, if Philo represented
the idea of God exclusively in negative formulae,
as when, for instance, he called him that which has
no properties, and that which is bounded by nothing
besides itself; or when he argued against the view
of those who conceive of God under some form
more or less anthropomorphic.^^ Moreover, we
might let it pass without objection, if in the idea
of God he united opposite determinations ; as, for
instance, in his assertion, that God is everywhere
and nowhere.^* But Philo did not stop here ; but,
on the one hand, ascribed to the divine idea the
very determinations which, on the other, he had
sought to remove from it. Thus, too, we might
perhaps suppose it to be a merely negative position,
when he called God pre-eminently an unchangeable
being.^" But the way in which he used this desig-
nation of God decidedly proves that he saw in it
something more than a merely negative determi-
nation. For in the mind of Philo this immutability
of God was connected with that peace and repose
wliich he elsewhere described as the true jrood —
the supreme felicity/'^' To which are associated
also joy and cheerfulness, which are described to be
the consequences of the divine perfection — felicity
and supreme good." This is still more evident
from tlie fact that Pliilo, notwithstanding he re-
jected tlje Platonic doctrine that God is good,
nevertheless, after the manner of Plato, made the

•t

«1

Quod Deus Immut. 11, sq. p. 280, sqq.; deSacr. Abel. 29, sq. p. 181, sq.
He Conf. Ling. 27, p. 12.5. " Quod Deus Immut. 5, sq.

De Somn. ii. :J4, ].. 388, sq.
" De Cherub. 25, p. 154 ; de Abrnh. 36, p. 29; de Sacrif. Abel. 30, fin.
p. 18.3.

430 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

immutability of God to follow from his being the
good or the best, and that therefore it is impossible
for him to become either better or worse.^^ Thus,
without any fear of contradicting himself, he several
times calls God good, and even grounds thereon
the doctrine of the creation of the world ; which is
that God allowed the non-existent to come into
being, after contemplating his own goodness, and
finding joy in giving.^^ In the same way God is
called light ; by which term, however, we must
not understand a sensible, but a supra-sensible
light; God sees the world even before it comes
into being, since he illuminates himself/° It is
clear that this view would represent God as reason,
and not the sole but the universal reason of all -J^
and against this positive determination of the idea
of God, Philo has nothing to object.

Perhaps, indeed, it may be conjectured, that in
such positive determinations Philo did not intend
to be understood as speaking of the supreme God,
but of his ministering forces, which he deems
worthy of divine worship. For Philo distinguishes
between God, as properly so called, and the god so
styled in an improper sense, who is, however, only
the olden Word of God ; the former alone is the God,

** De Incorr. Mund. 13, p. 500. 'laog yap aiirdg taVTif Kal ofioiog 6 ^eog,
(iTjTi dvitriv TrpoQ TO xi'ipov, fii'ir' tTriraaiv irpbg to (HXtiov Stxaj-itvog, k.t.X.

" De Nom. Mut. 5 fin. p. 585. Aid ti yovp iiroui rd id) ovra; on
dya^bg Kal ^iXoSupog ijv. Quod Deus Immut. 23, fin. p. 288, 289; Leg.
Alleg. i. 14, fin. p. 52. He also makes this distinction : God himself is the
giver of good, but the angels the averters of evil ; and thus keeps the Deity-
pure from all contact with evil. Leg. Alleg. iii. 62, p. 122.

^° Quod Deus Immut. 12, p. 281. 'Eaipa ^i 6 btog Kai irpb yevtffeug
^wtI xpw/ifvof (avr(i>. De Cher. 28, p. 156.

^' Leg. Alleg. iii. 9, p. 93.

PHILO JUD^US. 431

the latter god.'^^ But this distinction is not steadily-
maintained by Philo, either in word or in reality ;
and, as was to be expected from its very nature, it
only serves to involve him in fresh difficulties. The
world is the revelation of God in great and in the
the whole ; and it is represented as being formed
by the Word of God -^^ and therefore in the very-
spirit of Philo, the Word of God may be called the
creative God. The conjecture, therefore, naturally
arises, that in the passages which speak of God the
Creator, of liis goodness, his benevolence, and
other properties, the Word of God is to be under-
stood. This, however, is not the view which Philo
follows ; but God himself is declared to be the
orderer of the world and the first cause ; while the
Word of God, on the other hand, is regarded as
simply the instrument by which all is fashioned.^*
Consequently, the positions of Philo concerning
the immutability of God, and his inexpressible
nature, which is without qualities or properties,
must be viewed simply as an endeavour to think of
God absolutelv, without reference to the world,
whicli, however seriously he might entertain it, he
found it impossible to maintain throughout. If
also he says, God belongs not to the relative, and if

^* De Sornn. i. .'50, p. G55,

^^ De Monarch. ii. .5, p. 225. Aoyof I'l tariv iikwv ^cov, di oo av^ivaz
b KonfioQ iSrjuiovpytiTO.

^* De Cherub. S"), p. IGI.sq. '0 ^titQ a'lriov, ovk opyavoi', to Si yivofiivov

li Spyavov fi'tv, inri/ It aiTiov ttuptojq yivtrat ri ovv luri CtjfJiiovpybc

■7r\i)v rb alriov v<p' ov; . ... tvpTjfftiQ yap airiov fiiv avrov (sc. roi)
Korr/iou) rbv Biov, i"/(' ov ytyoviV i5\jj Si ret riatrapa ffrotxttf^, '5 <»'>'
avviKpa^r], opyavov Si Xoyov ^tov, Si ov KariffKivda^t]. This is Philo's
usual phraseology : but it is not, however, quite fixed ; for occasionally it is
said that something, e. g. good, is fashioned not only by, but also through, God.
Leg. AUeg. i. 13, p. 51,

432 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

on this account he would distinguish the working
energy of God, by which the world was made, from
God himself, in order that God might remain un-
changed, after the working of this energy in the
creation,^^ this is merely an abstract conception,
which could not take firm root in his system, and
which he is himself incessantly forced to contradict.
Thus he declares it to have been revealed to him by
that higher inspiration which he boasts of enjoying,
that about God there are two supreme energies,
goodness and power ; and that by the former he
created the world, and by the latter rules it ; and
that these two are united together by the Word of
God, which holds the mean between them, so that
by this Word God becomes ruler and good.'^® Such
a mode of thinking implies that God must be
thought of either as originally good and a sovereign^
or else as only having become so by his union with
the Word. But, in short, the union of God with
his enero;ies cannot be understood in anv other
sense than as a relative idea, which must necessarily
be unchangeably joined with the essence of God.
This necessity was, in fact, acknowledged by Philo,
since he taught by a symbol, M'hich became very
famous in succeeding ages, that God cannot cease

'5 De Milt. Nom. 4, in. p. 582. To yap ov, y ov icrnv, ovxl twv vpoQ
n- avTO yap iavrov rrXiipiQ Kai avrb iavrtp tKavov Kal irpo riig tov
Koajxov ytvkaiojQ Kcil fitrd rijv yivtaiv rou iravrbg iv bfioi(^. drparrov

yap Kal ajXtra^XriTOV tHiv Sk ^vvafittiyv, iiQ iretvev elg ykviaiv

iir' tvipytai(f tov avffraB/evTOS, iviag trviifStfiriKC Xeyetr^ai ojcravii Trpoc

Ti, T7]V fiain\iKi)v, rrjv tvtpytriKT}v ravTo/v <Tvyytvr]Q tan

Kal I'l TTOiTiTiKi) Suva/iig, »'; KaXovjxivt] Biog- Sid yap Tavrrjg Trig Svvdfitwg
i^rfKt rd TzdvTa 6 yivvi'jaag Kal Tt\vtTtvaag Trarrjp, k.t.X.

^^ De Cherub. 9, p. 143, sq. Aoyf^i yap Kal ap^ovra Kal dya^bv elvai
rbv Sftov.

PHILO JUD^EUS. 433

to be active, since it is his peculiar property, in the
same way as to burn is the property of fire, and to
freeze of snow/^

This direction of thought is in fact remarkable.
Philo labours to keep the idea of God free from all
admixture with ideas of mundane thing-s. On this
account he is decidedly hostile to Pantheism, and
places the contrariety between God and the world
in so strong a light as almost to preclude all inter-
course between God and his creatures even by the
interposition of the energy or Word of God, whom
he seems to make an independent being. By his
very nature God is separate from all becoming ;
the degree of imperfection which distinguishes every
other nature from the divine is no small one ; every-
thine: is different from him in its entire constitution/^
Out of matter he has, it is true, made all things,
but he did so without touching it, for it could not
be that the omniscient and the happy should come
into contact with shapeless and confused matter.'^
God embraces the whole universe, and yet at the
same time he is out of it.'° But in this direction
of tliought Philo was unable to maintain himself
consistently. All that he could accomplish was to
introduce certain intermediate members between
the world and God which he designates as the
energies or Word of God ; nevertheless, as he is

," Leg. AUcg. i. 3, p. 44. Tlaiirai yap ouStTTore iroiCjv 6 ^foc. AW
wcnrtp iciov TO Kuitiv irvpbg Kai x^ovog to \l/vxfi-f, ovroj Kai ^lov t6

TTOUIV.

"" De Sacrif. Abel, xxviii. 181. ' Afiiivov Si ovd^v lirii'oiJTai Oi/iiQ row
airiov, biroTt ovSi 'irrov, dW ovSi d\iyi{i KaraS(ia''ipov, dX\' <iXf^ ycvti
tcaTafttftrjKoc iinav to fitTa Otov tv[)i(rKtrat.

" Oe Vict. Olftr. xiii. 20 1, fin.

*" Du I'osterit. Caini, v. 221!, 84.
IV. 2 F

434 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

driven to make these the means by which God
originally made all things, and which he keeps in
dependence on himself, the determinations, which
he would restrict to the energies alone, ultimately
apply to God himself. Thus God is designated as
the creator and governor of the world — the first
cause; he is depicted as good and beneficent, and
(notwithstanding that in other passages his essence
is declared to be unknowable) the object of the
most beautiful sciences. ^^ The attempt in short is
futile, and only serves to evince the tendency of
Philo's ideas, which however found their limitation
in another direction of his philosophy.

Between these two directions Philo's whole sys-
tem fluctuates, which is also disturbed by a further
source of vacillation. The wider the chasm between
God and the world appeared to him, the less dis-
posed was he to concede to man a knowledge of
God. When, therefore, he looks to the limited
nature of mundane things, he considers a full and
perfect intuition of God to be impossible. But, on
the other hand, he feels conscious of a desire in
human reason for the highest and true perfection,
and therefore is indisposed to deny to man all hope
of a thorough insight into the divine nature. To
this point of view we must refer the fact that he
ascribes to man no other perception of God than
what is as it were a reflection from a mirror. ^^
This idea he indeed carries out so far as not to con-

** De Vict. Off. xiii. fin. 262. Ti yap fidQrjfia KaWiov 67ri(7TJjjuj;c '"ow
ovrwg ovTog Qeov ;

"* De Decal. xxi. fin. 198, 'Qg ydp dia KUToirTpov (pavraffiovrai 6 vovg
6iov cpwpra Kcii Koafionoiovvra Kctl tujv '6\(ov liriTpoirtvovTa. De
Vita Cont. x. 4i!3, fin.

PHILO JUD^US. 435

cede even to Moses a perfect contemplation of divi-
nity. Human discernment goes no further than a
cognizance of God's existence. By the powers
subordinate to him, and by his operations, man
learns to know God ; these, however, reveal to man
his existence and not his essence. If man say that God
can be seen, this can only be true in an improper
sense. Philo treats this desire, to know more of God
than simply that he exists, as the extreme of folly.*^^
Consistently enough with his own views, he main-
tains in support of this opinion that in his essenceGod
is nothing else than the existent, of which in short
nothing beyond existence can be known. But even
in this distinction between the essence and the
existence of God we clearly discern a strong sense
of the necessity of understanding by God something
more than simple existence. The process by which,
through the desire of perfection which is inherent in
the reason, Philo was led to the opposite view, may be
traced clearly enough in the way in which he repre-
sents the effort to contemplate God as the way to
perfect felicity.^* But, alas ! human powers are inade-
quate to attain to this supreme end. In himself no
one has power to see God ; but God must show
himself to him. Even when Philo is speaking of
an imperfect knowledge of God, he expressly makes
an objection to the presumptuous idea that man by

" De Poster. Caini, xlviii. 2.58. To £i bparbv ilvui rb ov oh KV(Mo\oyu-
rai, Karu^prjrriQ Ce irrriv, iip' tKaarriv avrov twv ivvofinov uvapniofii-

vov dvOpajnov yup t^apKtT \oyirTp(p fii-Xf"^ '"''^ KciTafiaOilv,

'oTi IfTTi Ti 1:111 vTrap\n TO rti)v '6\(j)v curtiiv, nfiotXOth'. Trtfuiir'nuo Pi kciI
tnroiiCi'ii^nv Tp'fTrKjQat, u)q mpi oiVi'ac »} ttou'itijtoq 'i,i)Tt~i%>, wyi'iynHj rtf;

^qXiOibrtjQ avrai (sc. a'l Svvufiin:) yrip oil Tt)v oxi(tiuv, Ti)v li

VTrcifi^n' tK Ti',)f ('nroTiXoDiiii'wv itiirolj^ napiUTtim.

«* Dc Vita Cont. ii. 473.

2 F 2

436 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

his own powers can ever see God, it is not man that
sees God, but God that manifests himself to him.®""^
This view evidently hints at some mystical process
in the contemplation of God, and such a conception
clearly affords ample scope for the hypothesis of
an inconceivable enlargement of human faculties
beyond the limits affixed to them by man's circum-
scribed position in the world. By such enlargement
man is to acquire a true contemplation of God, not
through a mirror, not through this world, through
his shadow or his Word, but in himself. Now to
that very Moses, to whom, as we recently saw,
nothing was conceded beyond the knowledge of
God, we now find Philo ascribing a contemplation
of God in himself. We must not here omit to
observe that this supreme knowledge of God neces-
sarily comprises also a knowledge of the lowest, —
the powers of God and of the world. ^^ In this
supreme science man is no more led by the powers
or angels of God, but by God himself, and as he
advances he keeps pace with these forces of God, so
as ultimately to deserve to be placed on an equality
with them.^^

** De Poster. Caini, v. fin. 229; de Abrah. xvii. fin, p. 13. 'Of liviKtv
(piXavOpuifrias dfiKvovfitvrjv Trjv \f/v\riv ojg aiirbv ovk airtarpatpij, irpov-
iravrtjaag £f TJjv tavTov (pvffiv iSei^t, KaO' bffov olov r rjv iSeTv rbv
fSXerrovTa, Sio XeytTui, ovx on 6 ao<pbg tide Otov, a\X' on 6 Otbg HxpQrf
T(^ <TO(}><p. tcai yap ffv dSvvarov KaraXafStTv rivd Si avrov rb irpbg
aXr]dtiav ov (irj 7rapa(pr]vavrog fKiivov iavrb nal irapaSeiKavTog,

*^ Leg. Alleg. iii. 33, 107. 'Eun Si ng TiXiwripog Kai fiaXXov KiKa-
Qapfi'ivog vovg, rd fieydXa fivarifpta fivTjdiig, otrng ovk dnb rutv ytyovo-
Twv rb ainov yvwpiZet, oig dv dnb cxKiag rb fiivov, dXX' vTTtpKVipag r6
ytvvrjrbv ifi<pa<jiv ivapyrj tov dytvvijrov XafifSdvti^ wg air' avrov aiirbv
KaraXafifidvtiv Kal rriv <JKidv avrov, oirip fjv rov rt Xoyov Kai rovSt tov

Koafiov H-^^f KaroirTpiaaifirjv tv oiXXy rivi ri)v ffrjv iSiav, »J

iv aoi r(f) Otif.

" De Mij^r. Abrah. xxxi. 463,

PHILO JUD^US. 437

On such a vacillating basis it was impossible to
found a stable theor}'^ of the world and its relations.
In order to investigate Philo's views on these sub-
jects, we must in the first place attend to his doc-
trine of the energies of God. These he expressly
distinguishes from God himself, considering them
as his instruments, as his ministers in the formation
of the world.®*^ They are partly beneficent, partly
vindictive, although even the latter have alone good
in view, since punishment is intended only for the
suppression of evil.^^ That in his representations
of these ministering powers, Philo ascribed to them
a proper existence and personality, is obvious from
many of his statements on this head. He considers,
it is true, these ministering powders collectively as
the supra-sensible world, as the world of ideas, in
which view he appears willing to adopt the Platonic
doctrine without modification.^" He also says, that
to speak plainly and witliout figure, the supra-sensi-
ble world is nothing else than the Word of God,
which thus indeed forms the world.^^ But the
world is also of itself regarded by Philo as a per-
sonal being, since he calls it the firstborn Son of
God, or the firstborn angel — the many-named
archangel, and even lauds it as the God of imper-
fect things — the second God.^^ If further proof be

De Poster. Caini, vi. 229; de Vict. Offer. xiiL 2G1, fin.
* De Conf. Ling, xxxiv. 431.

•° De Vict. Offer, xiii. 261, fin. Talc iatoftarotg SvvdfiKnv, wv trvfiov
ovofin u'l liiai,

De Croat. Mundi, vi. h. Et li rif iOiXtfatu yv^voripoic XP'J''^"' "''C
bviifianiv, ovliv dv tripov iiiroi rbv votiriiv ilvat Kuufiov if Oiov \6yov

I'lfT} KOfTflOTTOioilVTOi;.

** De Agricult. xii, .'iOfi; do Conf. Ling, xxviii. 427; Leg. Alleg. iii. 73, I'JOj
I-'ragm. ap. Eu»eb. Prtep. Ev. vii. 13, G26, ed. Mang.

438 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

required, we need only appeal to his doctrine of
angelic natures, which he compares with the heroes of
the Greeks and their demons, with which, agreeably
to a view borrowed from the Pythagoreans, the air
is full, and which Philo makes to enter as souls into
the bodies of mortal men, and in fixed periods again
to raise themselves out of them.^^ Now these
angels are also called Words of God,^^ and it is said
that wath them, as with incorporeal essences and
immortal souls, the divine locality and holy space,
i. e. the supra-sensible world, is filled.^^ Philo,
therefore, it is plain regards the Words of God partly
as persons, and partly tends to connect the doctrine
of angels with that of the ideas, and thereby to con-
stitute the single ideas as much as the world of ideas
itself into separate essences.

Philo's theory of the communication of the world
with God by means of the ideas, is in details ex-
tremely complicated. It would seem that the ne-
cessity of deferring in his allegorical exposition to
certain . passages of Scripture had not been without
its influence. On the whole he asserts that the
powers of God are indeterminable as God himself,^^
and also that the angels are, like the stars, innume-
rable. But at the same time he felt it advisable to

" DeSomn. i. 22, 641,8q.

^* Leg. Alleg. iii. 62, 122; de Conf. Ling. viii. fin. 409, &c,

'* De Somn. i. 21, 640. Eldtvai Si vvv ■7rpoat)Kti, on 6 9i1og roTrof
Kai J7 iepd x'^P^ irXr)pr]C aatojxaTwv sort Xoywv • xj/vxai Sk iiaiv aOavuTOi
01 \6yoi ovroi. In some other passages, ib. xix. 638; xxiii. 64.3, this doctrine
is applied in a different manner from that which we liave lately been speaking
of.

'* De Sacrif. Abel. xv. 173. 'A7nf>iypa(j>oQ yap 6 9(6(;, d'Tepiypaipoi Ka'i
cu IvviifitiQ avTov. De Great. Mundi, vL 5, 'A.-7vipiypa(jioi yap avrai Kai
ciTtXivrtfTot.

PHILO JUDiEUS. 439

bring this innumerable number under certain gene-
ral divisions, in order to render them in some
degree conceivable, or at least explicable.^^ At
times he makes six to be the number of the highest
energies which go forth from the supreme God ; at
other times he rejects this number as too large for a
notional classification, but again wavers between two
or three, or rather doubts if it be not better to
reduce all of them under one collective force — the
Word of God, The two highest forces he designates
sometimes as creative goodness and governing mercy,
at others as beneficence and retribution.^^ But the
union of these two he again places either in God
himself or in his Word.^^ This uncertainty is obvi-
ously connected with his general vagueness of view,
which oroes so far as to lead him at one time to venerate
God himself as the creator, and at others to regard
the creative energy as distinct from him. Now if
the Word of God is to be considered the connecting
link between the two supreme energies, this sup-
j)osition is nearly equivalent to the view which com-
j)rehends all the divine forces in the Word; which
tlierefore indicates the sui)reme idea, and comprises
all others in itself. Perhaps indeed we ought to
regard this as the favourite opinion of Philo, for

•» Dc Profug. xviii. 500.

»• DeSacrif. Abel. xv. 173; <le Abrah. xxiv. 19; dc Vita Mos. iii. 8, p. loO;
lie Conf. Ling, xxxiv. 431 ; Quis Hit. Uiv. Her. xxxiv. fin. 504.

•• De Sncr. Abel. xv. 173. 'O Oibc Sopv^oiiovfiivoe vno Svtlv rwv avw-
rnriA) tvvaiiKov, tifJX'lc Ti (iii Kal dyaOi'>Ti)TO(:, t\q o)V i) ii'taoQ. De
Abrah. xxiv. 1«, sq.; de I'rofug. xix. 5ni;de Clierub. ix. 143, r(|. K«ra
rbv 'iva ovrtog ovra Otov Svo rdf Avurdru) firm Kal Trpwraf; Cwdfifif;,
dyaOi'trtjTa Kai i^ovTiViv. Kai ciyaOnr7]ri /liv rb tti'iv ytyn'i'iikivtn,
;i'oiirTi\t 61 Tov yivvtjOivToc rt()X"v. T()iT(>v Oi mipnytoyov a/ti/ioii/ fiirrnv
f i»((i \6yov • \uy(^ yu{> kuI dpx'*^'''" "«• dyuOuv ilvai tov Otov.

440 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

besides the fact that the divine Word plays a promi-
nent part in his theory, pervading it throughout,
and indicating the relation which subsists between
the unknown God and his revelations of himself,^°° it
moreover harmonizes perfectly with his predilection
for the ideal tlieory of Plato, which has led him to
make the divine Word represent the universal place
of ideas — the supra-sensible world — the idea of
ideas.^°^

As, then, according to this view, the Word of God
is the being who serves as the organ of the creation.
Philo assigns to him a twofold relation — connecting
him on the one hand with God, and on the other with
the world. This relation is illustrated by that which
subsists between an inward and an expressed thought
(Aoyoc tvSiaOtTog, 7r()o0optKoe). The world of ideas
which is within God, finds, he says, a mani-
festation in the sensible world, and the latter bears
the same relation to the former, as the emanated
does to its eternal source. ^^^ After this explana-
tion, we are able to understand why, according to a
view already noticed, Philo held it to be impossible
for mundane beings to be cognizant of God, or of
the ideas in their absolute purity. So far, indeed,
as the ideas have entered into the world, are they
accessible to it ; the pure reason may indeed com-
prehend them, but that reason, which in the sensible
world is mixed up with sensation, is incapable of

^°° Hereon is founded the opposition between Xoyog and the \iybtv avroQ.
De Sacrif. Abel, xviii. 175. "0 yap Oebg Xtywv (iixa tTroin. Hereto also we
must refer the passage, de Ebriet, viii. 361, sq. where God is described as the
father, but his science or wisdom, which is not different from the Xoyof^
as the mother of the world.

^•^ De Great. Mundi, v. i; vi. 5. '°* De Vita Mos. iii. 13, p. 154.

PHILO JUD^US. 441

more than glancing at copies of the ideas.^°^ On
the same ground Philo further asserts, that the
energies of God are ineffable by man.^°* Yet, for all
this, it is pretty clear that man is not precluded
from a hope that, at some time or other, if not per-
haps in the present life, he may emancipate himself
from the fetters of sensation, and by some myste-
rious road or other, rise to a perception of the pure
idea : for Philo frequently speaks of the Word of
God and the ideas as objects of human cognition,
by means of which man may acquire a knowledge
of the divine, even though this knowledge be limited
to the discovery that the divine essence is in its
nature very different from all human conceptions of
it.^°^ It is in this sense that he gives to the Word
of God the title of the Interpreter.^""

This doctrine of the powers of God, which,
though they are to be strictly distinguished from
God, and do not in any way affect his essence, are
nevertheless essentially united to him, possesses a
striking affinity to the view which explains the
existence of the world as an emanation from God.
Philo openly adopted this view, although, as will
subsequently appear, he was unable to carry it out
with due rigour of consequence. However, all the
essential features of the theory of emanation may be

"" De Monarch, i.' G, p. 218, sq. God says, M»;r' ovv ifxk, firjTt nva
Twv ifiwv Ivvafxnav Kara ti)v ovfjiav IXtrioyi ttotI dwiimoQai KaraXa-
fitTv. Twv It i<ptKrwVf otg tlirov, iToifiwQ icai TrpoOvftw^ fieraSiSwfit.

"" I)e Migr. Abrah. viii. 442. 'SiKwvrai yap vno rwv rov oVTog Ivva-
fiUfjv 01 TTtpi avTov {avTwv'f\ uTravrtg linai, Xoyoi.

»"* De Somn. i. 11, fi.'JO; Leg. Alleg. iii. 73, V2^; Quod Deub Immut. i.
273; de Conf, Ling. xx. 419.

'»• Leg. Alleg. i. 1.

442 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY,

distinctly recognized in the description which he
gives of the Deity as a light which not only illumi-
nates himself, but also emits a thousand rays, which
collectively go to form the supra-sensible world of
his energies. ^°^ And the sane theory is again dis-
tinctly traceable, where Philo compares, under an
image which has previously been noticed, the ope-
ration by which God becomes the cause of the world
with that of fire, by which it emits heat, and snow
gives forth cold. For the images by which this
procedure is illustrated, lead us to consider it as a
process of nature, in which God emits the mundane
forces out of himself, or rather allows their emana-
tion to go on, without experiencing any change in
himself; while, at the same time, it is clearly im-
plied that these powers, inasmuch as they are
emitted from God, are on that account inferior to
him, and that with them a descending series of
being commences. The same view is also strongly
implied in the names which Philo employs to
designate his idea of the divine Word, which he
believes to be most aptly described as the image, or
still more adequately, as the shadow, of God.^°^
But at this beginning of a descending series, Philo
is not content to stop, but proceeds to teach us that
in the same way that God is the prototype of the
Word, so again the Word is the archetype of other
things, and of man among the rest.^°^ Again, as God

"*' De Cherub, xxviii. 156. Aurof Si ojv apx'fTVTroQ avyt) nupiaQ uKTlvag
iKfiaXXii, uv ovctfiia tcrriv alaOtjTt), votjrai £e a'l uTraaai, This image
is applied somewhat differently, de Somn. i. 19, p. 638.

^"^ De Monarch, ii. 5, p. 225; Leg. Alleg. ii. 31, 106. 2»cta Otov Si 6
\6yos avTov tariv.

^°'"' Leg. Alleg. i. 1. "QaTrifj yuj) o Oioq ■napaStiyfia rj/c eiKovoi;, Jjv
OKidv vvvi KiKXrfKtVf o'i'Tujg ri tiKwv aWtov yivtrai -Kupaotiyfia.

PHILO JUD^US. 443

condescends to be a radiating light, so by a further
application of the same figure, the forces, which are
around God continually, are said to emit a like
resplendent light. ^^° Now not to lose ourselves amid
these various symbols, we shall dismiss them with
the remark, that it was quite consistent in Philo,
who held tlie Word of God to be the supreme idea
and energy of God, to assume the existence of lower
and inferior forces which bear the same relation to
the Word as it does to God himself, or as the lower
ideas to the higher. And it is a further result of
the same direction of thought, to represent the
angels as an intermediate order of being, between
the rays of divine light and the human soul. And
thus, though it is only in its highest and most ex-
alted state that the human soul is illuminated
directly by the divine rays, still even in its state of
degradation it is able to contemplate the light of
angels."^

This theor}'^ of a descending scale of emanation
apparently im})lies the necessity of finding some
mode of transition to the sphere of imperfection
which exists in the world, from the sphere of per-
fection, (to which belongs God, and to which also
in a certain degree the supreme forces which are the

"" Quod DeuB Immut. xvii. 281. Avva/xtis — , ai ntpi avrbv ovaai
Xafiirporarov <j)WQ ivaffTpairrovmv .

"' Do Somn. i. 19, p. 63(t. 'II ao-Kjjrtic/) Siavoia .... orav jiiv tv(popy
Kal TTpoQ TO vipog alptjrai, raTf upxirviroig Kai dfTiuiinroig UKT'im tT)^
Xoyticfjc 7r»jyt;c tov Ti\ta(p6pov Otov ntpiXanirtTai, orav Sk Karapaivy
icaiaipopy, Tolf; Ikiividv tiKOfftv, dOavdrotg Xoyoif, ovq Ka\uv tOof; dyyi-
\ovQ. In what follows it is worthy of remark, tliat the divine rays are called
irpdyfiara, or real things, in opposition to their images, \6yoi, in direct contra-
diction to the I'latonic phraseology, which, however, was not steadily adhered to
by others of the later IMatonists, 11). xxiii. C}4'.i.

444 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

immediate effluxes of the divine essence must, as its
true types be ascribed.) That strong sense of the
imperfection and evil of this world, which we have
more than once noticed as characteristic of Oriental
ideas, is strikingly manifested in Philo, who in con-
nection with it evinces also a strong disposition to
exalt to the utmost the idea of God, and to remove
it entirely from all contact and intercourse with
evil. Philo, it is true, enumerates the power of
vengeance among the immediate emanations from
God, but at the same time he carefully subjoins the
remark, that no evil is introduced into the world by
this punitive energy, but that it is exclusively sub-
servient to good. This tendenc}^ has led him
further to attribute to subordinate ministers all
those operations which appeared to him unbefitting
the divine excellence."^ In short, the doctrine of
Philo is throughout pervaded with the idea that
good alone can spring from God, and that, con-
sequently, whatever evil is found in the world owes
its origin to a different source."^ Now to discover
this source, we need not look beyond his theory of
a descending series of emanations. For according
to this theory, which Philo had adopted in its
general spirit, whatever proceeds from another can-
not be perfect, by its very nature it is passive — action
is the property of God alone. "^ Philo therefore

"• De Conf. Ling, xxxiv. 431.

"' De Great. Mundi, xxiv. 17. 'eSii yap avairtotf iivat kukov tov
Traripa toTq iKyovoiQ. It is remarkable that in this passage where Philo
follows the traditional history of the creation, he admits that God can form
also the acuKpopa. De Conf. Ling, xxxv. 432.

^^* De Cherub, xxiv. 153. 'l^iov /xtv ^>) Otov to ttouZv, o ov Oifiii ijri-
fidipairOai yivrtjrif, iSiov Si ytvvriTov rb ndaxfiv. The forces of God are,

PHILO JUD^US. 445

was perfectly consistent in regarding the Word as
merely the work or organ of God. Now as he pro-
ceeded with his series of dependent orders of exist-
ence, he naturally arrived at grades of being more
and more imperfect, and as he regarded this grada-
tion as a scale of subordinate and contrary ideas, he
was necessarily led to adopt the view that the world
is composed of opposite qualities which reciprocally
limit each other.^^^ In this mutual limitation then,
he thought he saw a sufficient explanation of the
imperfection discoverable in the system of the
world. Indeed, Philo followed out this view so far
as to hold that even the perfect power of the Deity
himself is limited by the physical incapacity of all
mundane things to receive the gifts of the divine
mercy. ^^^ It was on this ground that he ventured
to assert that God employs the pure forces against
himself, but mixed ones against all that comes into
being, because the latter is incapable of enduring
the purity of tlie former.^^'

For all the purposes of the philosophical problem
which Philo had proposed to himself, he might have
been content to stop hei'e. But he was carried
further by an interest of a practical nature to which,
however, a theoretical question in all probability
attached itself. For altljough Philo was led by his
theory of emanations to admit a descending series of

it is true, termed dyivvtiToi ; 'jut the Word of God is also called the first-
bom of God.

"* Dc Incorru])!. Mundi, xx. .507.

"" Q,uod Dt'us Imniut, xvii. '2fi4, fiq. EiSw^ ruivvv o £r}ntov()yi)f; ra'c Trejii
avTup iv liiraai re'ii; dpiaroic v7r£(i/3oXdc icai rijv rwv yiyovvrwv^ li Kai
aip6c\)a fiiyaXavxoiiv, (j)vaiicriv aaO'iviiaVy ovrt tvtpytrilv^ ovri KoXd^tiv,
(if Cvvurai, fioiXiTui, ctW wf I'xovrae cip^ SvvdfiKi><; rorf iKarifWV fiiOi-
{ovraf. "' L. 1.

446 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

being continually less perfect, still these several
gradations of existence were supposed to lie within
the sphere of the supra-sensible and therefore eter-
nal world, and consequently to be exempt from
change and becoming. In this manner nothing but
ideas, which moreover are conceived of as spirits,
are as yet produced. But now if there be a sensible
and changeable world and corporeal things within
it, the existence of these still requires explanation.
For this purpose then, Philo found ready to his
hand the idea of matter as it was exhibited by
Grecian philosophy. ^^^ This notion he adopted
pretty nearly in the Stoical sense of it, although at
times he evinces a disposition to employ it after the
manner of Plato or Aristotle. For while he would
describe matter to be a blind, inanimate force, the
difficulty seems to have occurred to him, that the
operation of such a force in the sensible world is
calculated to limit the power of God ; and he con-
sequently felt disposed to represent it as a non-
being ^^^ or mere potentiality, and with this view to
combine, as not inconsistent with it, the Stoical
dogma, that matter is a mere passivity. At the
same time, he unhesitatingly advanced the opinion
that it is a corporeal mass, devoid alike of form and
properties, which in itself is inert and quiescent,
resisting motion in space, but yet capable, when set
in motion, of entering into every possible form and
mode.^^*^ Thus, then, we have the imperfection of

"8 De Cherub, xxxv. IGl

"'' Quod Deus Immut. xxv. 290. Tivtaig Si fi fiiv ayuyfj Kai oSdc rig
itfTiv Ik tov fit) ovTog eig to dvai. De Nom. Mat. v. fin. p. 585; De Great.
Mundi, XX vi. fin. p. 19; de Somn. i. 13, fin. p. CSG.

De Great. Mundi,ii. 2. To Si naOririKov dxpvxov Kal ukivt^tov i^ iavrov.

PHILO JUD^US. 447

mundane things presented in another and different
form of view from what it would appear in, if it
had been accounted for in perfect agreement with
the ideas which Philo had previously advanced.
The imperfection exhibited in this world is no
longer referred for its cause to the gradually increas-
ing defectibility of all emanated objects, but it now
appears to have its ground in a positive force or
principle, which, being by its nature blind and irra-
tional, is incapable of adopting truth into itself, but
which troubles and corrupts the clear essence of
reason whenever it comes into contact with it.^^^
After such an explanation of matter, we are able to
understand why Philo found himself constrained to
draw a wide and essential distinction between the
pure ideas or angels, and the creatures of this
world, who simply by their dependence on matter,
are necessarily estranged from them.

But this explanation of matter was not uninflu-
enced by the practical interests which Philo had in
view in his philosophical scheme, i. e. by his doc-
trine of human liberty, which must be regarded as
the Ijasis of all his precepts to, and rcfpiiremcnts of,
humanity. In order to establish the validity of this
doctrine, Pliilo thought it sufficient to appeal to the
sim})le })rinciple, that in every contrariety, one
member necessitates the other. As then, it is un-
deniable that the necessary exists in the system of
the world, it follows that the free also is to be found

II). V. .5. Ol,(ri(f . . . Svvafiivy ytv'urOat. iravrat i'lv fiiv ydf) IK liivrrji
drnKTOQ.

"* De f^briet. ix. :JG'2; (iiiod Dtus imniul. xvii. 281, sq.; do Nom. Mat. vi.
583.

448 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

in it.^" This principle, however, has the appear-
ance of being brought forward simply to hide the
difficulty in which Philo found himself involved,
by advancing a doctrine, which in so many respects
came into collision with his other principles, and
which he must have been aware had formed one of
the chief grounds of dispute between the Stoics and
the Academicians. He himself trenched in some
measure on this debated ground, by advancing the
position that man is of a mixed nature, capable
alike of good and evil.^^^ The grave difficulties
which such a position immediately suggests, must
have appeared peculiarly weighty to Philo as having
to admit in mundane things a twofold dependence,
by which they are connected on the one hand with
the divine nature, and with matter on the other.
After ascribing as he does activity to God alone,
and mere passivity to created things, and after
teaching that God influences the soul at pleasure,
and that human works are as nought,^^* what degree
of freedom did he in fact leave to the human will ?
But if human liberty be irreconcilable with the
divine operations as explained by Philo, still more so
is it with the resistance or influence of matter ; for
while the divine is alone free, the material, he says,
is necessary. ^^^ Thus, then, does the human soul

'** De Confus. Ling. xxxv. 432. 'ESci yap Kai ro avTivaXov T<p UKovffiip,
TO fKovcnoVf tig rijv rov navTog avfi-TrkTipuxTiv KaraaKivaaOiv avaSii\-
Gijvai.

^^ De Great. Mundi, xxiv. 17. Td Sk rijg niKTijg iari <l>vatiog, Hxnrtft
avOpioTTog, og tTrt^exfat ''« ivavria^ (ppovtjtTiv Kai dfpoavvrjv, k.t.X.
According to de Conf. Ling. xxxv. 432, man alone is in this case, but it applies
also to the less perfect angels.

1** Leg. Alleg. ii. 21, p. 82.

*** De Somn. ii. 38, p. 692. Kai yap 6 fiiv Otog tKovaiov, avayKt) Si i)
ovaia. Quis Rer. Div. Her. Iv. 512. Talg autfiarog avdyKaig.

PHILO JUD^US. 449

appear to vacillate between two opposite constrain-
ing forces, alike be3'ond its control. And it is
even in this light that it is in fact regarded by Philo,
who, indeed, particularly insists upon the necessity
which it lies under by reason of its dependence on
the divine First Cause. Thus he says : in the soul
that has been fructified by God, good springs up by
the simple provision of nature, and without the aid
of art. As the divine grace produces whatever
takes place in the human reason, it rather allows
its own conclusions and activities to proceed than
actually originates them, and it is, as it were, eman-
cipated from free volition. ^^^ Ever}^ good dispo-
sition of the soul is brought about by the guidance
of God, and, on the other hand, every evil one also
is no less the result of the divine will, since it is the
eflfect of those sensual desires which matter gives rise
to in man. With some men, indeed, it is impossible
for them to profit even by the good which God has
placed within them. Moreover, Philo does not
hesitate to affirm that the bad become so by the
wrath of God, as much as the good are made such by
his mercy, although he is constrained to qualify this
assertion by teaching that it is only in an improper
sense that wrath can be ascribed to the Deity. ^^'^
It is rather to be referred to the constraint of nature
than to God, if men are irrationally carried away

*** De Migr. Abrah. vii. 441. Tort /ifXerai fitv Kai irovoi Kcii uaKijauq
Tjavxiil^ovaiVj avalilorai S'l dvtv Tt^^vqQ (puatoi^ nfjo/irjOtK^ tzi'ivtu uOfjod,
Traaiv uxpiXifia. tcaXftrat vi ij <popu rCJv aiiTOfiaTiZ,ofiiviitv dyaOwv aiptvic,
47r(i3//7rff) (') vdvQ uipiirai tojv Kara rdi; i£inQ iTriftoXuf; iinpyniov Kai
wUTTi[t Tujv iKnvTio)v riXivOifmrai Siu tj)v TrXtjOvf rwv von'tviov Kiti cifia-
arnruiQ iTrofiflpovvTuv .

'" II). xxvi. 4(i-2, mj. Leg. All.'g. i. \?,, p. .50; QikmI Duns Imniiit. xx. Cli.'i,
01 fiiv ipavXoi OvfKfi yiyovavi Oioiiy oi d' dyaOoi xdfiiTi.
IV. 2 G

450 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

by the current of external perceptions.^^' Philo,
moreover, asserts that the course of natural things
continually carries man further away from the origi-
nal purity and perfection in which he was created
by God. Accordingly he explains the fall of our
first parent as simply a natural event, and is of opin-
ion that all subsequently born are gradually less
capable of resisting sin, as being more and more af-
fected by the principle of becoming in matter which
is its natural cause. ^^^ Thus then nothing is pe-
culiar to man, neither good nor evil ; God works
on his reason, and matter on the irrational motions
of sensibility. ^^° Thus, it must be confessed, Philo's
theoretical views must have suggested to him many
grounds for doubting the possibility of human
liberty. If, therefore, he nevertheless adhered to a
belief in it, and to a firm conviction of its truth, we
must unquestionably ascribe this persuasion to the
practical tendency of his mind. The warm interest
which he felt in exhorting men to the practice of
virtue, led him to insist that if they are miserable
they are so by their own guilt alone, and that there-
fore they deserve to be punished or rewarded
according as they follow vice or virtue. But, he
argues, if man be not free it would be unjust to
punish him for his evil deeds, and in fact he cannot
truly be said to be guilty of sin.^^^ Now such an

^'^ De Sacrif. Abel, xxxii. fin. 'AXdywc vtto rijc rwv eicrog aiffQyjtrsiov
t^apoLQ ayofitvoQ.

'*' De Great. Mundi, xlvii. sqq., p. 32, sqq.; Quis Rer. Div. Her. lix, 515;
de Norn. Mut. vi. 585; de Vita Mos. iii. 17, p. 157.

'^° De Cherub, xxii. 152; xxxii. 159. 'Eywy* ovv Ik ^^vxvQ ^at (XwnaTOC
cvvtarwQ vovv, \6yov, aia9t]ffiv txfiv Sokuiv ovdev avrSiv "iStov eipiffKOj.
11). xxxiii. in. p. 160.

'**' Leg. Alkg. i. 13, p. 50. BoiXirai rd 6tla CtKaia liaayayCiv 6 fiiv

PHILO JTJD.EUS. 451

opinion probably appeared to Philo to be justified
in some measure by his general view of human
nature as holding an intermediate position between
God and matter, and that consequently it is in
man's power to apply either to the one or the other,
and to choose between the two ; either yielding to the
constraining force of matter, or devoting himself to
the service of God, which will furnish the true free-
dom of will and the pure light of reason. ^^^

The reader who has attentively followed thus
far the exposition of Philo's doctrine, cannot fail to
have observed that it is in all its parts devoid of
consistency, and of coherence in the development
of its fundamental positions. It contains propo-
sitions borrowed from widely conflicting views and
opinions, which are either imperfectly apprehended
or slightly alluded to, without any attempt to refer
them to any adequate and extensive principle. In
our judgment, indeed, Philo seems to hesitate half
way between the Grecian and the Oriental cast of
thought ; he appears to have a suspicion of the
peculiar truths which are contained in each, but to
be unable either to give expression to this con-
jecture, or to form a due estimate of their compa-
rative merits, to point out their essential diflTerence,
and to determine from a higher point of view the
amount of their respective claims to his assent.
Such is the doubtful and unstable position which
Philo everywhere maintains. Nevertheless, there

ovv fiTi ifiTrvivrrOil^ ti)v A\r)Hnn)v !^0)T]v, dXX' dTTtifiof iliv d()tr»7c, Ko\n-
^o/itj'og, ip' Off i'liiafiTtv, ilniv av, w^ aitKwQ KoXuKirai, ic.r.X. Q,uod
Dens Immut. x. 270.

'" Leg. AUeg. iii.69, p. 12j; de Great, Mund. xxiv. 17; Quod Dcuh Imniut.
x.'279.

2 G 2

452

ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

is, we must admit, one point to which, in the midst
of his general vacillation, Philo steadily adheres ;
and this is the aspiration after a higher degree of
excellence than the present sphere of man's existence
apparently admits of. His soul seems to have been
possessed with a lively sense of the evil and misery
which encompass mankind. His writings contain
many expressions of this feeling, in the earnestness
of which he frequently exhorts men to strive with
the utmost diligence to attain to a higher and better
position than they actually hold ; it is, indeed, the
moving principle of his entire doctrine, which is
thoroughly devoted to the practical improvement
of mankind, chiding, exhorting, and encouraging
them. His scientific speculations have for their
exclusive object, the endeavour to furnish mankind
with a right basis and principle of practice. And
having given them this direction, he probably
thought that for such a purpose it did not require
to be elaborately worked out, and that he was at
liberty to use every available argument, whence-
soever derived, as a stimulus to the moral exertions
of mankind. Those, however, who are duly im-
pressed with the closeness of the connection which
subsists between theory and practice, are naturally
apprehensive lest this indecision of theory should
have exercised an unfavourable influence on his
practical precepts. Unfortunately, we shall find
that this apprehension is more than justified in the
case of Philo, as soon as we proceed to investigate
his views of human life and pursuits.

Our previous exposition has shown us, that the
point to which Philo mainly sought to direct the

PHILO JUDiEUS. 453

efforts of mankind, was the elevation of themselves
to that supreme excellence in which the better
element of the human constitution had its origin.
As he explained the system of the world, with its
inherent evil, to be a descending gradation of the
divine energy, he naturally recommended, as the
means of its correction, a return and ascent from
the mundane to the divine. On this point, how-
ever, his instructions are vague and uncertain, in
consequence of his inability to determine the precise
point to which human exertion can attain in this
direction. For although his practical view was in
general founded on the conviction that the divine
essence is inaccessible to mortal and changeable
natures, and that man cannot know and worship
it, except indirectly in its energies, still he fre-
quently deviates from this opinion. For, in fact,
Philo could not make up his mind to shut out
the human mind altogether from that highest aspi-
ration wliich has for its object the contemplation of
God himself, and accordingly he conceded that,
although tliis lofty height can never be actually
reached, it is still good and right for man to strive
to come as near to it as possible. ^^^ To this ad-
mission we must further ascribe the distinction which
Philo drew between the sons of God and the sons
of his Word ; the former being caj)able of contem-
plating God himself, but the latter only his image ;
which distinction he advances, notwithstanding the

"• Do Conf. Ling. 20, fin. p. 41.0. 'EfiTrpnric 7<i(> role haiplnv npoQ
iTnttTTinT]v ^ifxivoir: lipiiT^ai fi'tv tovtov iSilv ti 5i fi>) Svvan'rn, rt/v yovv
I'lKovd avToti, Tov •{(((iraroi' Xoyov, fii^ ov Kfti rb Iv ai(T^//roit TiXiiorarov
^^>yov, Tovli rbv Koufiov. to ydp <piXoao(puv ovciv ')v aWo ri TavTa anov-
la'Citv a(cpi/3u/c iliiv.

454 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

doubt which he avows of the existence among mortal
men of any such sons of God.^^^ This view of
the inaccessible nature of the supreme good is again
clearly implied when Philo, after speaking of wis-
dom as actually existing, and of the sage and the
votary of wisdom, still declares this wisdom to be
destined to remain for ever concealed from mortal
creatures.^^^ Even the perfect man appears to him
as one vt^ho is still fluctuating between God and his
perishable nature/^*' Again, when Philo is speaking
of the soul loosed from the bonds of the body,
he ascribes to it, it is true, a certain approximation
to good, as it continually ascends to the higher
regions of heaven, but still he is very far from pro-
mising to it the power of reaching to the Most
High ; on the contrary, he does not concede to them
the rank even which the angels hold, w^ho, being
actuated by no human desires, remain perpetually
with God as mediators between him and the lower
spheres of the world. ^^'^

The method in which Philo usually exhorts man-
kind to virtue, and to the attainment of the highest
degree of excellence which it is in their power to
reach, exhibits the same singular medley of ideas
as we have already met with in his general theory.
Moreover, it evinces a like predominant bias for

^'* lb. 28, p. 426, sq. Oi Si iTnarriinj KiXpVI^^'^'oi rov (vhq viol ^tov

irpoffnyoptvovrai Seovrwg Kai yap fi /X777ra> iKavoi S'eov ttgISsq

vofii^ia^at yeyovafiev, dXXd roi rrjs d'idiov tUovog avTov, Xoyov tov
UoioTarov.

1" De Nom. Mut. 4, p. 584.

'^' De Somn. u. 35, in, p. 689. Tor fiiv ovv TtXtiov ovre ^ebv cure dvSrpio-
nov dvayod(pH Moji/trJ/Ci dW, i»Q t^tjv, fit^opiov ttjs dytvvTjTov Kai
^^aprrig (pvatujg.

^^ De Somn. i. 22, p. 641, sq.

pjiiLO juD^us. 455

Oriental views, notwithstanding the Grecian form
and style which it assumes throughout. The strongest
symptoms of this tendency are, his description of
mental peace, and repose, and of joy in God, as the
supreme good of man, and his preference of con-
templative to political life.^^^ Thus the Therapeutse,
who adopted a life of contemplation, and taking no
part in political pursuits withdrew entirely from
the world, are the subjects of a eulogium quite
alien to the spirit of the olden philosophy of
Greece. ^^^ For even Plato, who went further in this
direction than any other of the Greek philosophers,
was far from approving of a total abandonment of
political duties. This disagreement of the ideas of
Philo and those of the earlier philosophers of
Greece, is presented almost in every topic which he
advances in commendation of the Therapeutae, and
particularly in the passage where he declares the
merit of their contemplation to consist in its being,
not a merely intellectual study of the world and its
affairs, but in religious meditations and ceremonies
connected, more or less closely, with the irallegorical
interpretation of the holy Scriptures. ^^° A virtuous
political career is only praiseworthy so far as it is a
means towards the higher wisdom of religious medi-
tation ; it constitutes, as it were, an inferior grade
in the development of the soul, a preparatory step
towards the intuition of tlie divine, so far as this is
permitted to man. The study of the Encyclic
sciences affords a similar means, but is far inferior
to the profession of priests and prophets, who deem

'*• De Migr. Abrah. D, p. 113. "• De Vita Contemplativiu

'*" lb. 2, 3, 8, 10, 11.

456 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

it derogatory to their high calling to take any part *
in the civil administration of the state. This view
is moreover the basis of his classification of man-
kind, whom he divides into, 1. the earthly, who
are devoted to pleasure ; 2. the heavenly, who are
occupied with human sciences ; and, 3. the divine,
priests and prophets, who are the true citizens of
the world of ideas. ^^^ In short, the praises of retire-
ment, and of lonely meditation on the divine nature
constitute a leadino- feature in the character of liis
mind. Man, he asserted, ought to withdraw from
outward things into himself, in order to be absorbed
in the universal reason, which is God.^*^

Philo's exhortations to virtue, in general, too
closely resemble edifying harangues to admit of
much precision of ideas. Nevertheless, we must
admit, that they are throughout based on a certain
order of ideas, through which it is necessary to
follow him ; and that, further, a few opinions
present themselves which, as clearly springing from
an Oriental source, demand our attention. For the
most part Philo proceeds on the Stoical view, that
virtue is the only good. The doctrine of an ex-
ternal and corporeal good he expressly ascribes to an
effeminate cast of mind.^^^ We have quoted Philo's
view, that without God virtue is unfruitful, and
that it must be looked upon as the exclusive gift

"* De Gigant. 13, p. 271. Qtov He dv^ponroi \tpt~g Kai Trpo^fjrat, o'i

TLVtg ovK ■q^ldidav TroKireiag ttiq vapu rip Kocrfiip rvxtiv Kai KOOfioiro-

Xirai ytvioBai, to Sk aiaSrriTbv irdv vTrtpKi-^avreg sig tov votjTov Koajiov

fitTuvkarrjaav Kai tKiiii (pKtjTav, iYypa(pevrig tKp^aprwv daujftartov iStutv

Tro\iTii<}.

'" Leg. Alleg. iii. 9, p. 93; 13, 14, p. 95, sq.

"3 De Post. Caini, 34, sq. p. 247, sq.; De Somn. il. 2, p. 660.

PHILO JUDJEUS. 457

of God.^'*^ Nevertheless, the definitions which he
occasionally gives of virtue insensibly adopt a
Platonic character. Man, he says, ought to labour
to resemble the model of his proper nature, and
this is, God's idea of humanity — the true raan.^^^
Now as he considered this perfection to be unattain-
able, otherwise than by the subjection of the sensible
to the rational, he was led to adopt the Platonic
division of virtue, which derives four kinds of it
from a division of the soul into the concupiscible,
the irascible, and the rational, ^^"^ although he did
not observe the pure Platonic notion of these four
parts of virtue, but approximated them to the
Stoical views. ^^'^ These four parts of virtue, how-
ever, indicated to Philo s mind nothing more than
a lower species of it, which is human and perish-
able ; while, on the other hand, he taught that
there is a higher kind, which is imperishable and
universal, and comprises the former within itself as
a genus does its species. This he designates as the
good M^hich is formed after the wisdom of God, i. e.
after his Word, and which is full of joy in God, in
whom it finds its delight and glory. ^'^^ The good
which is formed after the divine wisdom is in its

»** Quod Deter. Pot. Inbid. 17, p. 203.

*** Leg. Allcg. i. 12, p. 49; ii. 2, p. r,7 ; do Great. Mundi, 46, p. 32.

'*' Leg. Allcg. i. 22, sq. p. 57, sq. "' It). 1!), p. oG.

'*' lb. i. 19, 5C. He is speaking of tlio streams in Eden : 'O fikv A>/
fiiyiTmc 7ror«/iOf, ov at TiaaaptQ un6\>l)(nai. yfyovarrir, »'/ yfi'iKi) lerTiv
dpiTT], »)v wvo/xtiffa/xev dya3r5r>jra, a'l di riaaaptf: cnrufipouu ladfyi^^oi
ipirai' Xa/iftavu fiiv ovv tuq upx'^Q rj yiviKi) I'lperr) anu Ttjg 'Ejf/t, rijc
rof" Srtov ffo^iac, rj X«'P" *"' yavvrai kuI rpv<pq. lir'i p.6vn> r<p irarpl nvrijc

ayaWofifVTj xai trinvvvofih'tj ^K^i >; (sc. rof; ^lov troipia) ^i iariv 6

Btov \oyur- icuTu yap roiirov iriTroiiiTui )) yiviKi) dpiTi). Dc Chcrub.

2, p. i:jr».

468 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

nature different from human wisdom, which, on the
other hand, is distinct from prudence (^povjjmc)? one
of the four Platonic virtues. The former is the
virtue which leads man to worship God, while
the latter is occupied exclusively with the conduct
of life. But the opposition between perishable
and imperishable is exhibited in a still stronger
light, the two being elsewhere represented as an
incorporeal and a corporeal virtue.^^^ But that
Philo was here proceeding without anything like
a precise distinction of ideas is soon apparent, for
we find him, in another place, admitting of an
incorporeal virtue, whose office is the expiation and
atonement of the faults and errors which the pur-
suit of sensual pleasure gives rise to.^^°

If, however, in his terminology, Philo appears
to have adopted Grecian ideas, we shall neverthe-
less, find from another division which he gives of
virtue, that in his view of it he essentially followed
the Oriental character of thought. Thus, in his
allegorical interpretation of the Jewish Scriptures,
he considered the three patriarchs to be represent-
atives of certain states of the soul (rpoTroi \pvxri?\
symbols of three virtues ; the first being the image
of that virtue which is formed in man by instruction
and science ; the second, that which is a gift of
nature ; and the third, that which is acquired by
ascetical practice {liaKimo}'^^^ Now the order in

"' De Pram, et Poen. 14, p. 421. 2o0ta fikv yap irpbg ^tpairtiav ^eov,
<Pp6vr]cng dk irpoQ dv2rpu)Trivov (iiov Sio'iKrjaiv.

^*° Leg. AUeg. ii. 20, p. 80, sq.

"^ De Abrah. 11, p. 9. Tpovovg yap yi^vxvQ ioiKiV 6 Upbg Suptvvatf^ai
\6yog, dffniovs liwavTag, rbv p.kv U diSaaieaXiag, rbv £' Ik (pvanaq, rbv S'
tl dcKritiwg ^iintvov rov kuXov. De Sonin. i, 27, p. 646. Ttjv dptTi/v rj
0v(r£t fi duKr^au f] fiaBTjUti ntpiyivta^ai <paai.

PHILO JUD^US. 459

which Philo has arranged these thrfee virtues,
placing the natural first, and then the ascetical, and
lastly the scientific, is evidently borrowed from
Aristotle ; but the terms by which he has designated
the three immediately suggests a difference of view.
For Aristotle's virtue of habit is manifestly diflPerent
from Philo's ascetical practice. For the design of
the latter is not simply to temper and moderate
human passions, but to eradicate them entirely,
and to eflfect a perfect apathy. ^^^ How, indeed,
was it possible for Philo and Aristotle to agree on
such a point ? For while the latter taught that
corporeal nature in itself had a certain tendency
towards good, the latter saw in it irreconcilable hos-
tility to whatever is good and divine. This hos-
tility, according to Philo, had its principle in matter
which stands in aboriginal opposition to God,
seeking to change and to destroy whatever God has
made and fashioned. He insists, therefore, in the
strongest possible terms, on the mortification of the
flesh and body, and consequently of the senses,
and even of articulate language ; notwithstanding
that the latter appeared to him to be near akin to
reason or the Word of God.^^^ We must therefore
regard it as simply a concession to human weakness,
if Philo at times limits this mortification to the
highest degree of possible attainment, and allows
the sensual desires to survive, on condition, how-
ever, that they be brought into perfect subjection to

"^ Leg. Allcg. ii. 2,5, fin. p. 85. 'Eav ytip dnd^tia tcaraffxy ri/v 4'i'X'7*'>
rtXfoJC tvSaifj.ovri<Tti. lb. iii. 45, p. 113. Mioixrijc ^i o\ov rbv ^v^iiv
iKTifivtiv Kai aTroKOTTTHv ourai Stlv Tijc '/'"X'/Ci ""^ fitrpiorrd^iiav, rt'X\<»
<Tvv6\u>c aTr(Vinav dyanuv. lb. 47, 4J), p. 414, sq.

"* Dc Prof. 17, p. .S.'if*.

460 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

reason. Or, as Pliilo elsewhere expresses himself,
the Holy Spirit enjoins man to transform within
him the irrational part of his soul, and to take care
that it becomes to a certain degree rational.^^''

From these statements it must be clear that the
term nature, as a ground of virtue, was taken very
differently by Aristotle and by Philo. For the
former understood by it the rational disposition of
those human motives which relate to the passions ;
but in the view of the latter, nothing good can
spring from this nature, and virtue cannot be ac-
quired except by the total eradication of all such
motives. This difference of view under a similarity
of expression, is again strikingly exhibited in the
following point. With Aristotle, natural virtue is
but a slight rudiment of good, scarcely meriting
the name of one, but with Philo it is exhibited as
the supreme virtue ;^^^ and, on the other hand, he
greatly depreciates the ascetical, holding it to be
little better than a pursuit of the true.^^^ He con-
sequently dwells much upon the uncertainty of its
success, arising from its attempt to rise by its own
strength, and to acquire excellence by its own act and
exertion ; whereas the true stability of goodness is
exclusively a divine gift. Accordingly, he describes
the ascetic as a man who puts forth all his powers
in any contest, and who must simply, on that
account alone, occasionally remit his exertions in
order to renew his exhausted strength. The ascetic

^'* Quis. Rer. Div. Her. 38, p. 499. To akoyov ijfiwv fispog \pvxu^iivai
Kui rjjoTTov nva XoxiKOV yevicr^ai.

"* De Somn. i. 27, p. 646.

^^* De Siicrif. Abel. 30, p. 18G, ^fiu, Ilovov nif yd(j cat TrpoKOTrT/c aiv
' IaK(u/3 aviiiiuXof.

PHILO JUDiEUS. 461

may be well able to endure both toil and suffering,
yet he who receives his virtue from heaven is
far happier. The former must occasionally relapse
into the weakness of his human nature, while the
latter possesses, by the gift of God, mental repose
and peace, which can never be broken nor dis-
turbed. ^^^ Now what that nature is which Philo re-
garded as the principle of this much boasted virtue, it
is impossible to mistake. It is not the nature which
a man receives at his birth, but that which God
breathes into him, by making the inspiration of his
Word and his power to descend upon him after
he has long exercised himself in conflict with his
natural desires, and informed himself by the study
of the Encyclic sciences.^^^ It seems, then, that in
Philo's view the natural stood in a certain opposi-
tion to the two other kinds of virtue, since, that even
which is acquired by science, is also regarded as a
human work. It is not that sure and certain
science wliicii both Plato and Aristotle depicted as
the true essence of virtue, but a mere result of re-
flection on the phenomena of the world, as exhi-
bited and explained by the Encyclic sciences. It
therefore admits of improvement, while natural
virtue is presented at once perfect and complete by
reason of the infinite quickness of the divine o})e-

*'^ De Nom. Mut. l.'J, p. 591. Ejy 6 /xtv SiSaxOtis aS>avdTti> xpwfitvot;
VTTofioXtl r^v (i^tXeiav tvavXov ical (Jl^dvarov ttT^ft /") rpiirofitvoQ' 6 St
dnKr\rij<2 Kui to iicovffiov t^wv avrb fiovov Kai rovro yvfiva'i^utv Kal avyKpo-
tHiv, 'iva rb oiKttov tto^oq ni} ytvvr)T<^ fiiraftaKy, Kai av Tt\nw^y
Kafiojv Trpig t6 apxaloi/ indviim yivo(f TkiiTiKiornioi- fiiv ydp ovTog^
ivrvxiartpoQ It iKtivoQ. De Somn. i. 23, p. 643.

"» De Somn. 1. 1 ; de Prjcm. et Pcen. 4, p. 412 ; dc Ebrict. 12, p. 304.

462 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

ration. *^^ And again, this scientific virtue must be
distinguished from another and superior one, which,
according to Philo, may be acquired from philo-
sophy or wisdom, for this again is to be looked upon
as a divine gift. The virtue of science so under-
stood, Philo is not indisposed to place on an equality
with that of nature. ^^° This latter he also describes
as the root of the other kinds of virtue ; not, how-
ever, as if the latter grew out of the former, but
the supreme virtue is regarded as the source of the
four inferior grades, on the ground that the general
is higher than all particular species. ^^^

But there is yet another point of view from
which this mode of expression strongly recom-
mended itself to Philo. It is readily conceivable,
that the strange combination which Philo here ex-
hibited of Oriental and Aristotelian ideas, must
have infallibly given rise to great vacillation between
the two. Moreover, a mode of interpretation which
treated persons as ideas, had for its natural conse-
quence a disposition to regard ideas under a personal
light. Both these tendencies of his sj^stem are ob-
servable in Philo, when he remarks that each of
the three patriarchs participated indeed in all the
three virtues, but that he derived his name from

**' De Ebriet. 31, in. p. 375, sq.

*"'' De Mut. Nom. 14, p. 591, "On »} fiev MaKrfi dpirfi Kai cktktjtik-^
SexovToi TO. TTpoQ (itKrioxjiv' t(pitrai yap Si) 6 fikv SiSaffKo/xevog t7rioT»}/ijjc>
u)v dyvoti, 6 Ss diTKfjaii xpti/ifvof (TTt<pdvu)v Kai toiv TrpoKiinevujv dSfXojv
fi\o7r6v(i) Kai <pi\oBsaiJ,ovi i\jvxy. to Si aiiroSiSaKTov Kai avrofiaSrig
yevog, are (pvaei fidXXov rj tTriTTjStvffsi avvicfTdfiivov, «5 dpx^lQ laov Kai
TiKuov Kai dpriov i)vsx-^flj l^f]Siv6g tvSiovrog twv fig vXi'jpiDcnv dpiBfiov.
In this sense, science also is identical with the contemplation of God. De
Migr. Abrah. 8, p. 442.

"^ De Somn. i. 27, p. C46 ; Leg. AUeg. i. 19, p. 56.

PHILO JUD^US.

463

that particular one, which was the predominant
feature of his character. For, he adds, neither
instruction without nature and practice can attain
to perfection, nor yet nature reach its proper end
without learning and exercise, as neither can prac-
tice, when it is not raised on the foundation of good
natural gifts and education. ^^^ The view that is
here advanced, that nature combined with science
is the basis of right practice, and that this again is
the completion of the former two, must clearly be
understood in the spirit of the Aristotelian pliiloso-
phy, with which, however, there is little agreement
in Philo's other opinion, that when science and
practice have done their utmost in the development
of human powers, God furnishes what is still want-
ing to perfection, by a enovation of man's nature.
One point more : Philo may, perhaps, have dis-
covered, by which to approximate his own theory
to this doctrine of Aristotle, even if the above
attempt should appear inadequate. For he could
not fail to perceive that nature, conceived of as a
divine grace, must be sensibly felt in all the lower
developments of virtue, and that therefore it might,
in a certain sense, be considered as their ground.
Besides, he must have acknowledged, that the
divine influences of nature cannot be altogether
independent of the previous state of their object;
for to tliis conclusion he would be naturally led by
the principle of his moral theory, that the supreme
gifts of peace and contentment of soul come indeed
from God, but that still they presuppose as their
indispensable antecedents the highest exertions of

"" Do Abrah. xi. 'J.

464 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

the individual, both in scientific pursuits and in
ascetical practice.^*^^ It was exactly in this light
that Philo understood the relation of instruction in
the Encyclic sciences to practice and nature. He
declares that practice is the result of instruction
and learning ; that men must be fed at first with
the milk of science, in order afterwards to be able
to digest the strong meat of Athletse, and be
obedient to the precepts of scientific culture, which
withdraws them from sensual pleasure, and intro-
duces them to spiritual things. ^^^ And then he
considers the virtue which is acquired from nature,
and receives, as we have seen, its completion in the
stable science of God, or the good as a consequence
of exercise in the Encyclic sciences ; for, he says, it
is only by means of the latter that the former can
be securely possessed, and many who had devoted
their youth to philosophy without previous exercise
of the Encychc sciences, were unable to rise to the
height they desired.^^^ We see then that Philo
makes that to repose on well-grounded science,
which, according to his view, must also be regarded
as the gift of God. It is in this light that he dis-
tinguished the virtue of instruction from science or
wisdom, which he looked upon as the most stable
virtue, and the root of all other excellence. ^^^ This
then is nothing else than the virtue of nature. But
when now he allows wisdom to spring from logical,
physical, and ethical doctrines, we see him return-
ing again to Grecian ideas, and perceive how difii-

^•^ De Somn. i. 27, p. 646. To yap daicrjati tKyovov rov fia^fiffti.

"^ Congr. Erud. Grat. 13, sqq. p. 62f!, sqq.

^" De Ebriet. xii. xiii. 4G4. "'' De Nobil. v. 442; de Fort. iii. 377.

PHILO JUDiEUS. 465

cult it must have been for him to distinouish the
virtue which springs from education, from the
wisdom which is the gift of God. Indeed we
cannot wholly acquit him of the charge of occa-
sionally confounding the two. The most decided
instance of this confusion of ideas is, the proposi-
tion in which he declares that when the virtue
which is acquired by instruction has once become
. by nature the object of unfailing memory, it is even
superior to the virtue of practice, even though the
latter may by the gift of God have reached to in-
tuition. ^^^ For he who practises it (a(7K:»JT^)c•) will
ever and anon be reduced to an inferior state by
the exhaustion which his conflict entails, whereas
he who is elevated by wisdom, enjoys a permanent
abiding; in the hio-Iier reo-ions of knowledire.^'^^
This view is evidently in accordance with the pre-
eminence which Philo assigned to scientific over
political life, but it is still more particularly con-
nected with his description of man's life as a con-
tinual struggle with his sensuous nature, which,
however, can never be brought into perfect subjec-
tion. On this account, man can never attain to a
perfectly calm and undisturbed intuition of God.
The Spirit of God, may indeed, occasionally enter
into man, but cannot abide and stay with him.^

'" De Fort. 1. I.

''''" De Mut. Nnm. xiii. :>')]. AiKTtov ovv, on Kal rnvTa ^''("^'^"'"'Jc'C
fidiv, olf >} fi^rtKTt'i rfjc aaKtjriKiiQ dpirfJQ Sta(pipii. 6 fiiv yap SiSaaKuXitf
/3tXrioj^ti(;, ivfioipov KaxitJV ipixtlit)^, i) irtpiirouX to dXtjfTTov avT<p ?id
avvniyiii< pviijitir, jiovg yjx^rai div tfiu^iv dnplt 'tTrtt\)]p.n'tvo^ Kal
ftfli'iiui^ Tripitx''>pivn(;. o Ci AtTK/)TiiQ, infildv yvfivdarjnu (TviTofujg^
Statrvii naXiv, K.r.X. U). xiv. .'jDl.

""' (iuod Dcus Inimut. i. 272, fin. ; dc CigJint. v. 'JfiA. Mfra fiiv ydP
firriv '6t(, KctTafi'ivii Si ovi' liadnav napd roif TroXXol^ '//''i'. It i» re'
IV. '2 JI

466 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

The impediment is man's sensuous nature, for even
when he is carried out of himself by enthusiasm,
his human nature still hovers closely around him,
watching an opportunity to seize him as soon as his
desire for the divine remits its intensity. '^'^^ It is
difficult, however, to reconcile the preceding state-
ment with the stability that is, nevertheless, pro-
mised to scientific virtue. Most undoubtedly it is
inconsistent with the description of it, previously
given, according to which the cultivation of the
Encyclic sciences is but the milky food of the young,
while ascesis or practice is represented as the
further progress from knowledge to action.

How^ever, through all these inequalities of expo-
sition we discover a gleam of something like a
steady and invariable principle. And this was
the conviction of man's weakness, and God's
power over man, connected on the one hand with
the view that all mundane things, and especially
the earlier existence of mankind, are necessarilj'^
objects of the imperfection, which clings to all that
is created and material, which, even on that account,
is subject to decay, and on the other hand, influenced
by the doctrine (which had its ground in Philo's
earnest longing to eflect a moral improvement of
his fellow men) that man must do his part, and
as it were meet the operation of the divine grace.

markable, that here the presence of the divine Spirit within man is represented
as a something quite usual, and taking place both with and in spite of man's
wUl.

"" De Som. ii. 34, fin. p. 689. "ETrtiddv St ary tv^ovfnwSsg kcu 6
iroXvg 'ifiipog x'^^^'^Vi Tra\ivCponi)(Tag airo rwv Btiwv dvdpwTrog yivtraif
toIq dvSru)Trivoit; evTv^oiv, uwiQ kv rolq TrpoTTvXaioiQ i<prjS()tvev^ 'iv avrb
fiovov iKKv>pavra ivSoJtv i^apTrdcry.

PHILO JUD^US. 467

This conviction of a divine influence on man is
implied in the notion of natural virtue, which leads
to the recommendation of a life agreeable to nature.
Philo was strongly possessed with the idea, that
whatever is good comes from the hand of God.
But he felt that the inclination of the flesh — of
matter, which is powerful in the world, although it
is properly passive, nevertheless sets itself in oppo-
sition to good, while he was deeply conscious of the
weakness of human nature which is an obstacle
to God's abiding in man. Therefore he taught,
that it is man's office to struggle with matter, and
that for this purpose a life of ascetical practice is
necessary. This is the reason why ascetical virtue
is associated with the natural, and we might indeed
regard it, according to Philo's view, as the proper
virtue of man, were it not for the strong disposition
he evinced to ascribe a high value to the scientific
culture of the Greeks, in consequence of his
inability to deny its importance for the develop-
ment of that higher science — philosophy, which
strives after an intuition of God.

From this it is clear, that Philo, even though it
was his chief desire to exhort men to follow
virtue and to forsake vice, could not make any high
requisition upon them. How, in short, was it possible
in this mortal life — that combination of rational
and necessary — to look for the j)crfection of
the sage ? It is enough, he said, if we meet with a
man exempt from vice, the possession of perfect
virtue is denied to men of our generation. ''' For

"' DeMiit. Nom. vi. .'ifi'), fin. 'Aymrtirbv ydp (I'l riov KtiKiun' linnrpmrai,
Tuiv H aptrQv y 7rttvrtX»)f Krii<rtg Aivvaroi dvOf>d>Tr(f> rqi ku^ »/^«C.

2 II 2

468 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

the same reason, he joins to those higher virtues
which represent the perfection of man's nature, or
at least the pursuit of it, others of an inferior
degree, to the practice of which he invites mankind ;
and in the same way that he attaches in general
the four perishable Platonic virtues to that which is
imperishable, so, inversely, the three higher Aristo-
telian virtues are associated with three inferior
ones, which in all essential respects appear to have
had their origin in a purely Oriental view. These
he called, hope, repentance or change of mind
(fXiTavoia), and justice. Hope is the basis of human
life, but men ought to cherish a just hope — hope in
God as the source of their existence and preserva-
tion. ^'^^ Hope is the principle of all that is good in
mankind ; it is by it that we become properly men.
It is as it were the porter which opens the door to
the royal virtues which reside within us. Without
cultivating the former, it is impossible to attain to
the latter. ^^^ Hope, moreover, is represented as the
virtue which is in an especial manner implanted in
man by means of laws and institutions, but, never-
theless, capable of arising in him as an effect of the
unwritten law of nature. ^^* Hope is followed by
repentance as the second virtue, which is necessary
to man as born and brought up in the midst of so
much that is evil. From this evil, repentance
turns him away, by awakening an earnest desire to
elevate himself to true good by means of virtue,

*'* De Praem. et Poen. ii. 410. Movoq d' uTroSoxiis d^ios o ava^eis
Ti)v iXvica Srtifi Kctl wg aiTi({) tFjq ytvtfffwf avriig koi u)q aaivrj /cai
a£id<p9o()ov iKav<{J fi6v(^ Sia<pvXa^ai,

"' De Abrah. ii. 8q. p. 2. sq. "* lb. iii. 3.

PHILO JUD^US. 469

aud by teaching him to avoid the evil and choose
the good. It invites him to solitude, on the ground
that evil generally exists among man, and that the
love of kindred, friends, and country, entails the
risk of contracting the evil which belongs to them
respectively. In solitude we live with the dead,
whose writings have preserved the memory of their
good deeds and virtues. Repentance, indeed, cannot
extract from solitude its highest good, for as com-
pared with perfection, it is but as a convalescent
body to one which has never been diseased.^"
Never to err is the prerogative of God ; it may
perhaps, be the privilege also of the godlike man ;
but the highest felicity of the enlightened indivi-
dual is after error to return to good.^^° Of him
who is not utterly enslaved" to vice, but gives pro-
mise of amendment, Philo thinks it reasonable to
hope a perfect moral re-establishment, grounding
this expectation on a confidence in the inexhaustible
grace of God, who never punishes the guilty at the
moment of the commission of their crimes, but
mercifully allows them a season for repentance.
Tliose on the other hand, who labour under an in-
curable malady of heart, are threatened with
everlasting corruption and punishment.^^^ As to
the third virtue, justice, we are naturally surprised
to meet it here, after previously finding it placed in
a different combination, among tlie four Platonic
virtues. What is still more singular, justice, like

"* De Abrah. iii. Bfj. p. 3, sq. ; de Praem. et Poen. iii. 410,Bq. ; de Pocnit.
405.

'" De Pccnit. 1. 1.

'" Leg. Alleg. iii. 34, fin. p. inf! ; dc Cherub, i. 139.

470 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

goodness, is depicted as the virtue which rules over
all the others ;^^^ and the just man is consequently
described as protecting and supporting the wicked
among whom he lives, and indeed the whole
human race, by means of his instruction and ex-
ample ;^^^ a merit which Philo has elsewhere made
to be the privilege of the sage/^° He declares the
reward of justice to be the salvation, not only of the
just, but also of the whole human race, and of all
the living inhabitants of the earthJ^^ Philo indeed
carries his eulogium of justice so far, as, forgetting
that in his system it constituted nothing more than
a subordinate virtue, to give it a determinate cha-
racter, and, indeed, in this manner to raise its im-
portance so high, as to confound all distinction
between it and the supreme or natural virtue. For
the just man is represented as thoroughly perfect
from the first.^^^

When Philo proceeds to determine, in the next
place, the relation of the three inferior to the four
superior virtues, he merely states generally that the
former are to the latter as the training exercise of
the young to the deeds of the experienced veteran. ^^^
Nevertheless, the description which he gives of them
one by one, suggests the suspicion that he con-
sidered each of the inferior virtues as a lower degree
of some superior one corresponding to it. Thus

"' De Abrah. v. 5. 'Afitivov yctjj ovdev £iKaio(rvvt)(;, riig iv dptraig
yycfioviBog, r) KaS/aTnp iv X^PV Ka\\i(TTfvovaa -n-ptcfitvei. lb. vi. 6,

^^^ De Migr. Abrah. xxi. 434, sq.

"*° De Sacrif. Abel, xxxvii. in. p. 187 ; de Poenit. 2, fin. p. 407.

^" De Abrah, 8, fin. p. 8 ; de Frfem, et Poen. 4, in. p. 414. This alludes
to Noah as the symbol of justice.

"^^^ De Abrah. ix. 8. 'O fiiv yap riXtiog oXoKXtjpog tS, apx^S-

1" lb. 10, p. 8.

PHILO JUDiEUS. 471

hope seems to be regarded as an inferior grade of
scientific virtue ; repentance, which has its place in
the conflict with evil, is a lower degree of the asce-
tical ; and justice, wliich from the first attaches itself
to good, is the beginning of natural virtue. This
relationship between iiope and scientific virtue is
thrown out very strongly by Philo, when he makes
faith to be the bond of their union ; for, he says, as
true hope is a hope in God, so true faith is one
which trusts in God, who alone possesses certainty
of knowledge. That these notions are in them-
selves connected together is obvious. Hope cannot
be rightly explained otherwise than as a lower degree
of confident belief, and on this ground Philo has
called faith the fulfilment of good hopes. ^^^ Ac-
cording to him, faith consists in an assured con-
fidence that the perfect good which is not present,
which is however promised, does truly exist.^^" Now
this virtue he acknowledges existed in Abraham, the
symbol of virtue by instruction, who viewed faith in
God as the reward of his hope, with which he main-
tained liis pursuit of perfection. ^^*^ It is obvious
that this notion of faith was well adapted for the
objects of PhJlo's religious exhortations; but at the
same time it was intimately connected with the
hopes which, in common with his nation, he enter-

"" De Abrah. 46 in. p. 39 in.; dc Migr. Abnih. D, p. 442; Quis llcr. Div.
Her. 18, p. 485, sq.

*"* De Migr. Abr. 1. 1. Ei'g fiaprvpiav iriartwi, fjv liriffrtvffiv t) ypvxii
Biif, ovK Ik twv aTToriXtafiaTuv indnKvvji'ivii rb tiixupiarov dW Ik
TTpoaCoKieiQ twv ixtW6vTu)v. d^trrjOuaa y«j> K(ii iKKpifiuaOilaa iXirifof;
XPTjarfiz (fat dptvSoiaara vofiiaaaa fiSt] Trapilvai "ti/i^ napovra lid Tqv
Tov virnuxoiiivov ftfftnioTarTjv nioTiv, dyaOov r. Itioi', (iOXov ivprirai,

""' De I'leem. ct Pan. 4, p. 4r2.

472 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

taiiied of a further fulfilment of the divine promises
and a better future, when the good and pious among
the dispersed should again be gathered together
under a divine and superhuman manifestation, visi-
ble to the saints, but invisible to all others, under
which they were to enjoy a state of the most perfect
bliss on earth. ^^'^ Therefore it is, that faith is called
the queens of virtues, or the most perfect virtue. ^^^
We have here again another proof how difficult it was
for Philo to form and adhere to a fixed idea of what
he wished to be duly appreciated as the highest term
of excellence in the development of humanity.

The allusion we have just made to the national
expectations of Philo, calls for the remark that,
great as was his attachment to his people, he was
nevertheless in some degree estranged from them
by the Grecian education which he had received.
To this he was indebted for those cosmopolite senti-
ments which we have already noticed, and the not
unfrequent exhortations that he makes to universal
philanthropy. Moreover, the spirit of allegorical
interpretation tended greatly to weaken his attach-
ment to the literal sense of the sacred traditions,
which formed, however, the historical basis on
which the national hopes and character of the
Jewish people rested. Again, the views of the
divine nature which Philo laboured to establish,
were so opposed to the anthropomorphic representa-
tions of God which so frequently occur in the
Mosaic records, that he did not scruple to explain

1"^ De Execrat. ix. 43,5, sq.

"* De Abrah. xlvi. 39: Quis Ror. Div. Her. xviii. 485,

PHILO JUD.^US, 473

all such expressions as so many pious frauds. ^^^
This allegorical mode of interpretation is not con-
fined to historical matters, but it applied to the
whole body of divine legislation, the Jewish theo-
cracy, and all the religious ceremonies connected
therewith. These he did not hesitate to call sym-
bolical rites, designated for the weak-minded, and
applying only to the carnal life, whereas the truly
spiritual requires only a purely spiritual worship,
without the aid of outward ceremonies and forms.
It is true, he blames those who find fault with such
ceremonies, but his reason for this is simply because
such persons only do so, in order to acquire a cha-
racter for superior virtue, and a plea for withdrawing
themselves from communion with the rest of man-
kind. ^^*^ This, however, must have been but a slight
fault in the eyes of one like Philo, who was more
disposed to praise than to blame a life of solitude.

The intermediate position which we have assigned
to Philo between the Oriental and the Gra3C0-0rien-
tal philosophy is, as we believe, perfectly justified
by our exposition of his doctrines. In his mental
cliaracter we have both a Grecian education based
on philosophy, and the Oriental habit of thought
which, moreover, is its predominant feature. The
former trait is exhibited in his regard for the Ency-
clic sciences, and in his manner of connecting them
with, and making them subordinate to philosophy.
Almost the whole of his view of the classification of
the sciences, of the system of the world, and of the
relative value of its several parts, is drawn by an Ec-

"" Quod Dcus Immut. xiv. 282, wj. '•"' Du Misr. Abr. xvi. 450.

474 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

cletical process from Grecian investigations, if indeed,
the mixture which he made of Platonic, Aristotelian,
Stoical, and other Greek doctrines, as they severally
fell in with the immediate purpose of inquiry, de-
serves the name of Eclecticism. However, the use
that he has made of the Grecian philosophy would
scarcely have entitled him to a place in our history.
It is his Oriental doctrines alone that recommend
him to our notice. The influence of these is evi-
dent in the view he gives of the relation of God to
mundane things. He appears no doubt to attach
himself to Stoical views when he represents God as
the sole efiicient cause in the world, and places all
else in a merely passive relation to him. But how
widely does this doctrine recede from the true sense
of the Stoical, when Philo proceeds to limit the
intellectual liberty of the human soul, which the
Stoics regarded as an emanated portion of the
divine activity, to preparing a place within itself for
the divine operation ! With him the opposition is
not so much between God and matter, as between
God and the creatin-e. This is the passive material
for the divine operation, and whatever good arises
herein, is but an effect of divine grace. Of this
extensive operation of grace, neither the Porch nor
Grecian philosophy generally had the slightest con-
ception. By this transformation of ideas, it is
manifest, the opposition between God and world was
rendered wider and more irreconcilable. Even the
doctrine, that the things of this world cannot be
utterly subject, as rather they must yield to the
power of God, and transmute themselves into the
nature of the passive, tends to deprive them of all title

PHILO JUDiEUS. 475

to union with the divine. For this reason, too, the
divine retires the further from the human, the greater
is God's constraining force upon man. Even the
good which is now in the world, appears insufficient
to express what God is. The idea of God is re-
moved so far above human apprehension as wholly
to vanish out of sight. God might perhaps be aptly
designated as the existent, but for the inability of
men either to understand or to express simple exist-
ence. Therefore God withdraws from the world
his power, before which nothing can consist ; to be
a creative cause is unworthy of him ; therefore he is
withdrawn wholly within himself, and leaves to his
ministers the disposition and fashioning of matter,
which places itself over against this retiring God as
another illusion, since the further the world is re-
moved from the existent the more of necessity does
it participate in the unreal. Now to bind together
these two contrary extremes, naturally appears im-
possible. All the aid that the doctrine of emana-
tions could supply for this purpose, only served to
veil its impossibility, by introducing the ministering
spirits between God and matter; and being adapted
on tlie one hand to remove God himself from all
direct contact with the world in order that his pure
idea might be unj)olluted tliereby, and on the other
to furnish, by a descending gradation in the divine
effluxions, a transition from the perfect to the im-
perfect. To satisfy the first object, the emanation
of the powers from God is regarded as a matter of
j)erfect indifference to God iiimself, his divine
essence being altogetlier unatl'ectcd tliereby. 'I'liis
emanation, moreover, is represented as proceeding

476 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

from eternity, and the emanations themselves con-
sequently appear to be eternal beings who, however,
are not illimitable in their essence, inasmuch as
they are the mere organs of the divine will. How
unjustly this system has been connected with the
ideal theory of Plato, must be obvious to every one.
On the other hand, it exhibits a more intense
consciousness of the impassable gulf which the
ancient world discovered between itself and true
perfection. Hence, the many complaints which it
contains of the transitoriness, vanity, and delusion of
all earthly and mundane things. It is therefore but a
prejudice of his nation, when he assigns a better state
of existence to the angels, while he owes it to his
Grecian education, if he concedes the same to the
stars. In accordance with the predominant ten-
dency of his philosophy, he, of necessity, regarded
whatever is material, and even all spiritual emana-
tions from the godhead, as eternally removed from
perfection. But the greater and the more insu-
perable this gulf of separation appeared, the more
intense w^ould be the desire to overcome it. Yet
his efforts in this direction were necessarily irregu-
lar, since the rule of the system forbade the ema-
nated beings to quit the fixed and definite path of
the creature. On this ground, there was much to
recommend to Philo's mind the doctrine of the
contemplation of the existent, not, as it were, in a
mirror, but in the truth of a mystical and unnatural
mode of cognition, in order to give expression to its
own longing, notwithstanding that this expression
was at best but irregular, as evinced by the many
various forms in which this doctrine is partly ex-

PHILO JUDiELIS. 477

liibited and partly hidden. In short, what clear
conception could be formed of such a perfect con-
templation, which forthwith reveals its own imper-
fection by the fatigue with which it affects the soul,
which thereupon is again overpowered by the influ-
ences of the flesh ? But its irregularity is particu-
larly shown by the mysterious form under wliich it
exhibits itself, and which is declared to be an inde-
scribable ravishment of the reason, which, however,
as such, in this reverie ceases at once to be active.
This doctrine has been confounded more or less
with Grecian views, as Plato also spoke of an
intuition of ideas, but in a widely different light,
and under mythical symbols, and without any
attempt to ascribe to it anything different from
scientific activity, nor in any way implying that
God was there to be perceived, except in the ideas
themselves. This contemplation has also been con-
nected witli the Grecian view of the inspiratron
of a divinely-possessed individual ; but, in truth,
the divine insanity of the Greeks is far from being
the object of Philo's praises, who, on tlie contrary,
promises as tlie fruit of such contemplation a perfect
and impcrtfirbable serenity of soul. This promise
clearly testifies lo the Oriental origin of Philo's
doctrine. He, liowever, came far short of the Indian
philosophers, in the intensity with wliich they gave
themselves up to the contemplation of deity — to
absorption in self or in God, simply because he was
not bold enough to maintain with like positivcness
the absolute separation of soid and matter, and
the utter worthlessness of all that is opposite to God
in the world. However much he depreciated this

478 ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.

changeable, nevertheless he could not altogether deny
its truth, and he also acknowledged a connection
and dependence of all the several parts of the mun-
dane system ; in a word, he evinced a strong lean-
ing towards the interests of human life, and to
Grecian enlightenment. Nevertheless his view of
the supreme end of human endeavours led him, of
necessity, to limit man's success in every kind of
virtue to a mere preparation for the reception of the
divine grace — to an approximate, not an absolute
purification of the soul, in order to prepare a worthy
receptacle for the grace of God.

CHAPTER VII.

RISE AND DIFFUSION OF ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG

THE GREEKS.

The peculiar line of philosophical thought, occu-
pied for the most part with Oriental ideas, which we
met with in Philo, is rarely, and at most occasion-
ally, to be found in the properly Greek writers of
the period which we are now considering. So
foreign, indeed, was it to the mental character of
the Greeks and Romans, that two centuries were
required to familiarize it to them. But in order to
understand this tardy result, it will be necessary to
point out the occasional but scattered traces of
Orientalism which the history of these two centuries
exhibits.

The writings of Philo contain frequent applica-
tion of tlie arithmetical symbols of Pythagoras, and
imply that an acquaintance with them was very
general at this epoch. It is therefore impossible to
doubt that the Pythagorean doctrine was again in
favour and extensively prevalent, although we are
wholly unable to ascertain the date and occasion of
its revival.' It is not improbable that this event

' A slight trace is furniBhed by the statement of David the Armenian in the
Berlin. Scholia to Arist. p. 2f5 a, that Jobates, king of Libya, eagerly sought
for the writings of Pythagoras, and thereby gave occasion for many works
Ijeing palmed off under this name. Now, as no such a king as the Jobates here
alluded to is historically known, it is not improlj.ible that Juba II. king of

480 ORIENTALISM AMONG THE GREEKS.

was a result of the erudite labours of the Alexan-
drian schools, of whose operations our accounts
are very deficient and unsatisfactory. Nearly con-
temporary with Philo, is the first re-appearance of
Pythagorean philosophers. Now these exhibit in
general that particular character of philosophy
which it is the business of our present chapter to
portray, the main feature of which is an adherence to
the civilization of Greece, combined with a leaning
to the mystical view of the East, which appeared
most akin to the secret symbols of the Pythagorean
theory of numbers, as well as with other super-
stitious doctrines. This new form of Pythagorism
appears to have nourished a strong predilection for
the Platonic theory of ideas, and to have attached
itself no less zealously to the ascetical doctrine of
morals. Justin Martyr informs us, that in his youth
he had fallen in with one of these Pythagoreans,
who promised to raise him by his philosophy to
happiness and a knowledge of the good and beauti-
ful, on condition of his forming a previous acquaint-
ance with music, geometry, and astronomy; which
sciences, he insisted, were necessary to withdraw
the soul from the sensible, and to prepare it for the
reception of the supra-sensible ideas. ^

The scientific value of the ideas prevalent in this
school appears to have been very low : we shall
therefore content ourselves with a brief notice of

Mauritania, is intended, wlio was also styled king of Lybia, and is well known
for his learned pursuits. Thus, then, the doctrine of Pythagoras would appear
to have gained a new diffusion about a generation before Philo. The allusions
which seem to point to an earlier date are doubtful. Cf. my History of the
Pythagorean Philosophy, p. 75.

^ Dialog, c. Tryph. p. 219, ed. Francof. 1G8G.

APOLLONIUS OF TYANA. 481

some of the more eminent individuals that belonged
to it. The first of these that presents himself is
that marvellous personage Apollonius of T^^ana,
who, notwithstanding the fabulous legends of which
he is the subject, arrests our attention as one of the
few whose agency in introducing the Oriental wis-
dom among the Greeks has been historically re-
corded. Apollonius w^as born in the reign of
Augustus, and lived to a great age. Of his life,
we have a very detailed account in the laudatory
biography which, at the instance of the empress
Julia Domna, the elder Philostratus compiled from
questionable sources.^ His biographer is not exempt
from suspicion of having distorted the truth by
rhetorical exaggeration and embellishments, with-
out, however, being open to the charge of having
intentionally foisted upon us a different character
from the true one of his authorities.^ In general,
therefore, we believe it possible to extract from
Philostratus some genuine historical traits.

' The chief source, the work of Damis on the Travels of Apollonius, in
which Damis accompanied his instructor, cannot be used without extreme
suspicion, although probably free from all intontion;il dislioncsty. The many
strange marvels which Damis recounts, could not liave found faith anywhere
except in so weak a head as, according to I'liilostratus, Damis possessed. The
letters of Ajiollonius arc un(|ue3tionably spurious.

* It is well known that, in later times, Apollonius was compared with our
Saviour, and Philostratus has been suspected of having had such a comparison
in view. Nevertheless, not a single trace of a controversial tendency is to be
discovered in the work. We cannot concur with the ojiinion of ]3aur (Apollo-
nius of Tyana and Christ, or the relation of Py thagori.sm to Christianity, Tubin-
gen. 1I!.^2), who, although he denies the polemical be;iriiig of the work against
the Christians, yet maint.iins that Philostratus throughout his work had in
view the parallel with Christ. At all events it is only in . comjiaratively few
passages of the work that this parallel is discoverable. Moreover, tliosc who
have pursued this subject of inrpiiry appear to have looked but little to the
general character of Philostratus a« an author.

IV. 2 I

482 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

Apollonius is depicted as a wonder-worker, who,
however, according to the opinion of Philostratus
at least, did not perform his miraculous works by the
aid of magic, but by a divine energy and intelligence
which resided in him.'^ The chief part of the
marvels which tradition has accumulated on him,
consist of soothsayings, and announcements of
future or distant events, with which he could not be
acquainted by any natural means. For these pur-
poses he paid great attention to dreams and omens,
although on many occasions it was deep meditation
within himself that revealed to him the hidden
events. The latter source of prediction reminds us
of the contemplation of the Hindoos and of that
retirement within a man's self, which Philo recom-
mended as leading to the intuition of God. Indeed
Indian Jarchas had taught Apollonius, that no one
can come near to the wisdom which embraces all
things, until he has first arrived at a knowledge of
himself.*^ It was moreover equally accordant with
the new Pythagorism, to whose school Apollonius
had attached himself. He was a pupil of Euxenus a
Pythagorean, whom, however, he blames as too sen-
sual, his own rule of life being one of the strictest
austerity.' This rule he steadily adhered to, and
strove in every way to imitate, if not to go beyond,
the example of Pythagoras. For not only did he
refuse all animal food, clothed himself in linen,
went barefoot, and allowed his hair to grow, but even
abstained from wine, and followed a life of celibacy.^

* See especially. Vita Ajioll. i. 2 ; iv. 45 ; v. 12.
« lb. ii. 18. ^ lb. i. 7, 8.

• lb. i. 8, 13.

APOLLONIUS OF TYANA. 483

A Life of Pythagoras is also ascribed to liim.^ But
his Pythagorism did not evince itself in any respect
for and diffusion of that theory of symbolical num-
bers, which was the favourite pursuit of the rest of
the neo- Pythagoreans ; on the contrary, we find
occasional hints which seem to intimate that it held
in his eyes but a subordinate value ;^" and in the
same manner, whatever importance he ascribed
to mathematical sciences, music and astronomy,
as introductions to philosophy, w^as of a very
secondary kind. His chief effort, on the other
hand, was directed to a reformation of religious
rites and the restoration of the service of the
temples, in the spirit of the strictly moral practice
which he had imposed upon himself. This is the
object of the treatises whicii are ascribed to him on
soothsaying, on storms and sacrifice. ^^ If the
latter work be genuine, of which indeed there is no
ground for doubting, he would appear not only to
have forbidden animal sacrifice, but also to have
taught, that sacrifice ought not to be offered to the
supreme God, on the ground, that whatever belongs
to the earth is an impurity before God. In a frag-
ment still extant from this work, he recommends a
pure worship of the supreme God who is separate
and alone ; a pure prayer which requires not even

' Suid. 8. V. ' AnoWwvioQ Tvav. ; Porph. v, Pyth. 2. This work has been
held to be the same with the one on the opinions of the Pythagoreans.'whicl),
according to Pliilostratus, viii. 1!), he brought from the cave of Trophonius.
lambliclius also, de Vita Pyth. 2M. monlions tlic work of Apollonius on
Pythagoras, and tliere is much tliat is probable in the opinion which Jonsius
first promulged and Meiners carried out, that the Biographies of Pythagonis by
F'nrphyry and lambliclius drew largely from this work.

'" Philostr. V. Ai.oll. iii. :;0. »' 11). iii. 41 ; iv. J.').

2 1 2

484 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

words for its expression. ^^ Now this is in perfect
agreement with what we have found Philo teaching ;
with whom Apollonius further concurs in highly
esteeming oklen national rites, and in attempting to
re-establish ancient forms of worship/^ to the ex-
clusion however of all that was opposed to his own
view of the divine nature, and especially of the
cruel sacrifice of animals, which he condemned on
Pythagorean principles, which led him to oppose all
excess and also to maintain the affinity of brutes
and men and the metempsychosis. The greater
part of the impure rites which, according to his view,
the national religion had fallen into, he ascribed to
the fault of the poets w^ho had sedulously and wil-
fully propagated immoral fables of the gods.'*
But there is yet another point of resemblance
between Philo and Apollonius, and this is, that
with all his national predilections he was unable to
resist a tendency to a foreign element — the mys-
terious and profound wisdom of the Orientals. This
bias led him to undertake long and distant travels
(which, on the faith of existing traditions, must un-
hesitatingly be assigned to him), in order to visit the

^' Euseb. pr. Ev. iv. 13, Ovrwg roivvv /laXiara av tiq olfiai t^v Trpoffrj-
Kovffav iTTiniXeiav ttoioIto tov Sreiov Tvyx^tvoi re avro^ev 'i\td> re Kai
tvfievovQ avTOV irap' ovrivaovv [xovog dvBpwTrcov, il Btip fikv, ov Sri
TrpiuTov ifafitv, evi Si ovri Kixo)pi(yjx'iV(i) Travnov, fifB' ov yvaipi^tffSat
TovQ XoiTTOVc avayKoiov, 'fiif ^voi ri riiv apxf/v, fitjTf dvoTrroi wp,
jiriTt Ka^oXov ri rStv aiaSrrjTuiv sTrovofidZoi (^StTTni yap ovSevoQ^ ovSe
•jrapd tSiv Kpiirroviav ii]Tttp i\\itic,y ovZ' tariv o Tt)v dpx>)v dvirjai yij
<j>vr6v, fi Tpk(pei ^wov, fj dr/p, (p ov Trpoaiari yt fiiacTfia'^ ; fi6v({> Si
XP<pTO Trpbc avTov del t<^ KpuTTOvi Xoyoj- Xeyot St t(^ /it] Sid ffrofiarog
iovTi, K.T.X. This passage is also found in Euseb. Dem. Ev. iii. 3, 150, ed.
Colon, with a few deviations of which I have here adopted one. Cf. Philostr.
Vit. A poll. iii. 35 ; iv. 30.

'=• Philostr. Vit. Apoll. i. 1(3. ^* lb. v, U.

PLUTARCH. 485

Magi, the wise men of India and Upper Egypt.^^
According to him the doctrine of Pythagoras, which
he professed to adopt, was derived from India, from
whence it was brought into Egypt, from which
country again it passed in the person of Pythagoras
into Greece. ^^ These few points are all that we can
adduce with certainty of the history of this individual.

While the predominant tendency of ApoUonius's
mind was of an ethical character, other Pythago-
reans of the same or perhaps a somewhat later date,
were more exclusively devoted to the ideal theory
and scientific ideas of their school. Such were
Moderatus of Gadira who lived in the times of
Nero,^^ Nicomachus of Gerasa, whose date is a
little earlier than the Antonines,^^ and some others.
But the labours of these men seem to have been
rather of an erudite character than important for
the development and diffusion of a new habit of
thought, so that they only deserve a mention in this
place as members of the neo-Pythagoreans, who
for the most part adopted more or less of Oriental
ideas.

A more important personage in this respect is a
Platonic pliilosophcr of these times — the historian
Phitarch. The popular works of this writer evince a
stronger desire than is to l)e found in any of his
Greek or Roman contemporaries, to reconcile and
combine [)hilosophical enh'ghtenment witli the
public national religion; although many traces of a

''^ lb. i. Hi. >• lb. iii. ID.

" This is inferred from Pint. Symp. viii. 7, in. See. Jonsiusde Script. IlisU
Phil. iii. 5,2.

" 13rucker, Hist. Phil. ii. IGI.

486 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

like endeavour have already been noticed by us in
the learned philosophy of this age.^^

Plutarch was born at Cheronea about the middle
of the first century, A.D. and lived to the times of
Hadrian. By his teaching and writings he acquired
considerable renown among his contemporaries, and
was loaded with honours and official appointments,
many of which were conferred on him by the
Roman emperors. In his old age he was appointed
a priest of the Pythian Apollo. ^'^ He was one of
the most prolific and most eloquent writers of his
day, and in all times he has found admirers who have
placed him on an equality with the greatest orna-
ments of the best ages. This admiration he owes
in a great measure to the gentleness which breathes
in all his moral doctrines, and the warmth with
which he seeks to enforce them by good examples
and religious remarks, and the pleasure wherewith
he labours to place in a conspicuous light all that
is great and exalted. But still it would be difficult
to defend Plutarch against the charge of having
often carried the forbearance of his judgment to the
point of weakness, and having occasionally thrown
a seductive charm over brilliant vices, by associ-
ating them with real virtues. Whatever was dazzling
and presented the appearance of superior force and
vigour, was sure to excite his admiration, and he re-
quires, in short, our indulgence for having in his
own works preferred the brilliant to the true. His
display of learning, his unexpected turns of

" Cf. Schreiter de Doctrina Plutarchi et Theologica et Morali, in Ilgen's
Journal for Historical Theology. Vol. 6.
'"An Seni sit Ger. Resp. 17.

PLUTARCH. 487

thought, his witty and pointed language, his rhe-
torical skill and ornamental style, are but so many
proofs of the decay of correct writing. In short,
none of his works convey that impression of earnest-
ness which belongs to a well digested whole; they
seem designed for no other purpose than to string
together, however loosely, the more striking and
brilliant passages which they contain.

These observations on Plutarch's character as a
writer are equally applicable to him as a philo-
sopher. There is something peculiarly attractive
in the way that he recommends to the reader his
moral theory, whose end is elevation of mind, ex-
cellence in every human art, and the imitation of
ancient virtue. He expresses a heartfelt aversion
to the grovelling views of human life which the
Epicurean professed ; but yet the moderation of his
own sentiments equally indisposed him to the Stoical
view, wliich he attacked under its original form, and
not unfrequently without due allowance. He was
not only opposed to their contempt for the customs
of life, and for all virtue which rests on habit rather
than knowledge, but he also considered many of
the most essential opinions of God and the world
to be irreconcilable witli his own convictions.
Nevertheless, Plutarch, like the rest of liis contem-
jjorarics, did not scruple to borrow largely from the
ideas of the Stoical school. On the other hand, Plato
and Aristotle were especial favourites, and particu-
larly the former, as he found in tlieir writings much
to support his own moral and religious views ; and
he has adopted literally the mythical portion of the
Platonic exposition, and made it the centre to whicli

488 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

to attach his own personal convictions. This hetero-
geneous medley of ideas, which in common with his
contemporaries Plutarch adopted, has introduced
into his whole system a vagueness and indecision
which occasionally led him to speak in the tone
of the New Academy, and to doubt whether a pro-
bable doctrine, at least, in the highest questions of
philosophy, be within human attainment. ^^ Never-
theless, whenever the subject under consideration
requires or admits of it, Plutarch expresses himself
positively enough.

His doctrine naturally appeared to him to want au-
thority, inasmuch as it was in no single part based on
any fixed foundation. In his philosophy this was
undoubtedly the case ; for although he did occasion-
ally touch upon the first principles of knowledge,
as well as upon the forms of scientific exposition,
yet this is done so rarely, and with such slight
traces of original inquiry, that it is at once apparent
that he held logic in little regard, and that he had
no inclination for any other than ethical questions,
and investigations into the last grounds of things, to
which his religious bias predisposed him.^^ In the
same manner he does not absolutely neglect phy-
sical researches, but still he abstains from entering
profoundly and at length into their fundamental
and general principles, and consequently his trea-
tises on special topics can only be regarded as com-
positions undertaken rather for the display of his
learning and acuteness than for the love of inves-
tigating truth. But the less anxious Plutarch was
to give a solid foundation to his philosophy, the

'1 De Sera Num. Vind. 4, 14. '^'* De Prof, iii Virt, 7.

PLUTARCH. 489

more open would his exposition be to doubt and
inconsistency, as being little more than a compi-
lation from different and even conflicting- systems.
There is something exceedingly surprising in the
pains which at times Plutarch takes to reconcile
statements which proceed from the most opposite
points of view ; as when, for instance, he makes the
distinction of five parts in the Sophist to be coin-
cident with that of four in the Philebus, by sup-
posing that the latter further admitted a sepa-
rating cause in opposition to that which combines.^^
To quote another instance : he adopts the Platonic
division of the soul concurrently with that of Aris-
totle, and acknowledges five members of the soul —
the nutritive, the sensitive, the sensual desire, the
irascible, and the rational. ^^ This confusion of
view runs through the whole of his moral doc-
trines ; in general he adopts the ethical theory of
Plato, to which, however, without consideration, he
appends the Aristotelian doctrine of the relation
which subsists between habit and the mental dis-
position, and the cultivation of moral virtue, as
tlie discovery of the mean between two opposite
extremes.^^

But even in the religious tendency of his mental
disposition he was equally inca})ablc of discovering
a sure foundation for his convictions since these
comprised many inconsistencies. He apjjlied him-
self as decidedly to the overthrow of sujjersti-
tion^*" as to the establishment of faith. He gave a

'3 De E. I. (.1). Delph. 15. "^ lb. c. 1 3 ; cf. de Virt. Mor. 3.

" De Virt. Mor. Ij cf. dc Prof, in Virt. 3, 13 ; de Fort. 2.
** Especially in hia work, Yltpt t^tiaiSatfioviac.

490 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

most revolting picture of the fears to which super-
stition is incessantly a prey, from his apprehen-
sion of suffering ill of the gods. The superstitious
is practically an Atheist, since to hold the gods to
be malignant is to disbelieve in them.^^ In this
position we discern at once the moral tendency of
his religious sentiments. But, above all else, did
he firmly maintain the doctrine of a divine provi-
dence, which for the good disposes all things to
good. But it was assuredly difficult for Plutarch
to draw the line between superstition and true
faith ; and the more so as he felt himself con-
strained to admit the existence of a superior evil
power, and of evil demons in the world. ^^ His
confidence, therefore, must have rested on an opin-
ion that the power of good is greater than that of
evil, although the latter can never be wholly mas-
tered by the former. Now in this opposition to a
superstitious fear of the gods, Plutarch, like Apol-
lonius, had in view the purification of the popular
religion, for which purpose he naturally sought to
establish a standard of the right and the wrong.
With this view he set himself in direct opposition
to the mixture which had already commenced of all
religious rites, and insisted on whatever was ancient
and national.^^ He declared it to be contrary to
the laws to introduce barbarous forms of worship
into Greece, and frequently avows his disappro-

^ De Superst. 1 1, fin. *' Do Is. et Os. 25, 26, 59 ; de Def. Or. 14.

-' xVmator. 12. 'ApKtX yap rj Trdrpioe koi iroKaia Triariq, r/g ovk turiv

tiTTtii', ovS'' avtvpeiv T'e/c/ur//xioj' iva^yiaripov lav i<p' kvog rapar-

Tr)Tai Kai ffaXiVTjTai to ^i^aiov avrriQ Kal vivoniGjikvov, iiri<r^a\t]g yiiirai
traffi Kal vnoitTog. De Sera Num. Vind. 22, The Greeks here are called rb
l5k\rifTToi' Kal ^to(piXi(TTaroi' ysvog.

PLUTARCH. 491

bation of them, and in particular declares himself
an enemy of Jewish and Syrian rites. ^° Never-
theless, he coidd not entirely escape the universal
tendency of his age to recognize a value in foreign
cults, and he recommended the worship of Osiris
and Isis, as under foreign names representing the
true gods. For, he says, as the sun and moon and
heaven and earth and sea are common to all men,
but differently named by different nations, so by
the same law the one Reason which orders all
things, and the one Providence which rules over
them, receive different titles and honours from dif-
ferent nations and races. There are barbarian gods
and Grecian gods, but all men worship alike the
heavenly dispensers of all good gifts — the bene-
factors of the whole human race.^^ It is clear,
therefore, that Plutarch could not have had a very
strong conviction of the sure foundation, even of
the legal portion of the Grecian worship. It
was the more difficult for him to feel this, as he
could not fail to discover much of a superstitious
character in the ideas and usages of that people,
and as he could not be blind to the difference
of opinion which prevailed among them as to the
divine nature and worship. The opinions of men
on this subject are, he said, influenced by three
guides or teachers, the poet namely, the legis-
lator, and the philosopher; all of whom erpially
admit the existence of gods, but widely differ as to

** Do Superst. 3, 8; de Stoic. Rep. 30. Thus he places Syrian and Jiuk-an
in juxtapoHition. How far he was from a correct aci|uaiiitancu with the JcwiHli
religion ii)ay be »cen LKpecialiy t'ri)iii .Svnijios. iv. (|u. ."), ]>. li.

»' De Is. et Os. (57.

492 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

their number, nature, and power. The guide least
to be depended upon is the poet, for who can take
for truth the poetical images which ascribe divine
honours to dissension and flight, to fear and pain?^^
Legislators are, indeed, more highly esteemed by
Plutarch ; compared with the poets they appear to
be regarded as those ancient theologers "^ whom, on
one occasion, he designates as the ancient philoso-
phers.^^ Nevertheless, he cannot consent to look
upon them as trustworthy guides, on the ground
that philosophy is frequently constrained to dissent
from them.^^ Philosophy, therefore, alone remains
to furnish a decision as to the right worship of the
gods, and to it accordingly he ascribes the true
interpretation of religious ceremonies and festivals
which the law has appointed, and to it as the teacher
of truth they ought all to be referred.^^ But here
Plutarch draws a distinction between a philosophy
solely occupied with secondary physical causes, by
which, confining its attention to the corporeal alone
to the neglect of the divine first cause, it would
account for all things, and the Platonic wisdom,
which re-establishes the latter in all its rights.
Thus does Plutarch oppose the ancient theolo-
gians and physicians to each other ; the latter were
exclusively occupied with mediate, corporeal, or
second causes, the former with the supreme first cause,
on which all depends. True philosophy ought not

3'^ Amat. 18; de Stoic. Rep. 3ii. ^^ De Def. Or. 48, in.

3* De Anim. Procr. 33. ^' Amat. 1. 1.

^* De Is. et Os. 68, in. Aib SeT fiaXiara irphg ravra \6yov tK (piXoaofiag
uiicrrnywyov dva\aj36i'rag b<Tiu)g SiavotTa^at twv Xtyofikviov kui ^pw^ts-vajv
iKauTov' 'iva fir) .... i}(i(iQ, a koKwq o'l vofioi Trtpi Tac ^vffiag Kui rug
topTug iTaS,av, tTSpwg VTrokafi^dvovTig e^ajidprwiJiiv .

PLUTARCH. 493

to devote a less degree of attention to the divine
origin of all things, than to the natural causes by
which he operates in this world. ^'^ These two
kinds of causes are so intimately connected together
that they must be conceived to exist concurrently
in one and the same operation ; for while the
natural trul}" produce their particular effect, yet
this effect is at the same time designed to accomplish
or indicate some divine purpose. And such a view
serves further to reconcile the science of nature
with the pretensions of divination, and with what-
ever is regarded by popular superstition as a pro-
digy.^® Thus, then, we find the part which Plutarch
undertook resulting in a compromise between philo-
sophy and the national faith. Standing half way
between both he felt unable to give his full confi-
dence to either ; for reasons which we have already
alle2:ed lie could not throw himself in the arms of
philosopliy ; while the superstitions which were
mixed up with the popular belief were an obstacle to
its un(|ualified adoption. His object was to find
some new route by which to escape from the embar-
rassing })()sition in wliicli he wns placed between
two conflicting extremes ; and hence tlie indecision
which marks his course.

'^ Do Dcf. Orac. 48. Ka^oXov yap, 6)Q (pi)fii, £vo Trdmjc yiviaiwc alrim:
ixoiJTrjg, 01 fi'tv arjioSpa ■iraXaioi ^foXoyoi icrti ttouituI ry KpfiTTovi ft^t'il
rbv vovv irpofftxtiv t'iXovTo . . . . o'l Sk vnortpoi tovtu)%> Kai ^vrriKoi
iT[>orjnyon(V('iiuvoi Tovvuvriov tKiiixiir r;7r KuXrjr Ka'i ^tiaQ a7r<)7r\rt»'?;3n'-
rtc "CX'JCi t" ffw/LtrtTt Ka't Tru^tui Tiofianov 7r\/;yfuc Tt Kai /iirapoXau;
Kai KiicKJKTi ri^tvrai to av^nraV o<>tv a/nf/iorspoic 6 Xoyog Mit'iQ tov
7rpntrr)K0VTi'<c iari, toIq fi'tv to Si' ou Kai v(p' oh, to'i^ (t to IK i"v Kai it
on' ayi'novaiv f; TrapaXiiwovffiv.

=" Vita i'ericl. (i.

494 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

This want of decision becomes still more apparent
the more we enter into the examination of his re-
ligious opinions. It is far from being the case, as
perhaps after the passages already quoted one
might be disposed to expect, that he of necessity
adopted the Platonic and Aristotelian doctrine of first
and second causes as the principle by which to deter-
mine between true and false religion. This doctrine
would scarcely have justified the distinction of good
and evil demons, and that conception of demons gene-
rally which would represent them as souls invested
with air, and as having for their office to announce
future events to mankind. ^^ But what was a still
stronger objection, this doctrine was little calculated
to confirm the popular mind in its belief in the mar-
vellous, for which, however, Plutarch had a strong
disposition. He was anxious, not only to respect the
divine origin of all things, but to acknowledge it
concurrently with their natural origin, as if the two
had a different import and a different essence.
Moreover, together with the mediate influence of
God, which these olden philosophers acknowledged,
he wished to ascribe to him an immediate and super-
natural operation also. If he describes the mental
joy which seizes the truly pious and unsuperstitious
worshipper at the religious festivals in the temples,
he accounts for it by the opinion and well-grounded
hope, that in these places and on these occasions
God is especially present to men, and kindly deigns
to accept the honours offered to him, and will send,
to the good and virtuous, intimations and oracles,

*'^ De Def. Or. xxxviii; cf. de Gen. Socr. xx. 23.

PLUTARCH. 495

visions and auguries/" And if again he is far from
favouring these popular opinions in their spirit and
literal sense, and was disposed to foist upon them a
philosophical interpretation, he nevertheless showed
a disposition to encourage them, even in their com-
mon acceptation, and indeed in certain respects
attached himself in the most decided manner pos-
sible. The causes to which Plutarch, in common
with Plato and Aristotle referred all mundane
developments, are not merely natural ones, and
having tlieir principle in the free activity of reason,
but to these Plutarch added a third kind, which he
called the divine operation in the human mind.
These he exemplified by the demon of Socrates.
The higher reason, he taught, influences the well-
disciplined mind inaudibly by the thoughts, and
the soul is enchanted and suffers itself to be led on.
The voice of the demons speaks throughout the
universe ; but it is perceptible to those alone whose
minds are undisturbed, and whose souls are at
peace. *^ Whatever is good man ought to ask of the
gods, but especially that by their help he may, so
far at least as it is permitted to mankind, participate
in a knowledo:e of the divine nature. ^^ Plutarch
describes by a very beautiful image, the soul of man
as an instrument of God, whose only office is to give

*° Non Posse Suav. Vivi Sec, Epic, xxi. 'A\X' birov naXiarA ^o£a?et koI
Siavonrai Trapelvai tui> Ok'iv, Ikh nuXiara Xvirac (cat ^(>(iovQ Ka\ to ^>pov-
Ti'inv dntiirjdniVTf Tif iiOontv<i> n'txC /-('O'/C "f"' Trat^taf Kai ytXwrot
tl^iijfftj' iavTtjv. .,..,,. ov yap o'lvov irXijOoQ, ovS' oTrri/ffic Kpiuiv
TO ii>ij>pn7v(iv irrriv iv Tal^ to()raT(,-, aXXd K(ti iXir'iQ uyaOi) kui So^a roZ
irapiivai tov Oiov liiiiivi} Kai Sixii^Oai Tci yivoyitvu (C»x"("''/''^>'<^C. ^^•
xxii, fill. WifiiTOfriQ <iyy«Xowt, 0'7;*nc *«' ivvnvia Kai oIwovovq.

*' ])c Genio Socr. xx.

" De Is. ct Os. 1 , in.

496 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

back ill the greatest possible purity, the ideas which
God has implanted in it. To do this, in perfect
purity is impossible, since every organ, every being
which owes its manifestation to another, adds some-
thing of its own to all that it receives, and con-
sequently can never give pure expression to the
whole nature of that other. Thus no celestial body
is more fitting than the moon to be the organ of the
sun, but yet the moon reflects to earth the solar
light alone, it is unable to transmit its warmth also.
Therefore all that the soul is capable of, is to strive
to the utmost to imitate the divine, or to receive it
within itself in the highest possible degree of per-
fection. But in this attempt it is beset by a strug-
gle between its imparted divinity and unborn
humanity, and hence arise the violent emotions of
the soul in enthusiasm. ^^ We here discover the
influence of the opinion, which we formerly met
with in Philo, that the utmost that human efforts
can effect is, by the purification of the soul from all
impassioned emotions, to give free scope to the
divine operation which thereupon will produce a
higher sphere of existence. Accordingly the divine
enthusiasm, which Plutarch estimated far more
highly than Plato did, is represented by him as an
affection of the soul ; and further, a life of solitude

" De Pyth. Orac. xxi. '^vx>) 5« opyavop Otov yiyovtv • bpydvov S'
dptTYi fiaXiffra /ti/t£T<T0at ro^xP'^M*'""' V ""e^vKf Svvafxei Kai TrapEX''*' ^^
tpyov avTov tov vorjiiaroQ h' avT(^, SuKVVvai S' ovx oiov ijv iv r<fi
Stjixiovpyif KuOapbv Kai cnraOcg /cat dvufidpTTjTOV, dXXd fiifiiyfikvov

7ro\X<f Ti^ dXXorpifi) • icaff tavrb ydp dSrjXov rijxiv 6 KaXov-

fitvoq tvOovaiaafiog toiKS jJ-iOq tlvai Kivijoeojv SvoXv, ttjv fitv mq imrovQe.
Ti)Q -i/vxriC upa t>)v Si wj tts^vke iciVOViJiiVTjQ. lb. xxii. ; de Anim. Procr.
xxvii. Bergl. de Def. Orac. xlviii.

PLUTARCH. 497

regarded as the best preparation for a knowledge of
the Deity/*

If the preceding statements distinctly reveal an
Oriental character of thought, yet in other respects
Plutarch faithfully adhered to Grecian views.
Although, after Plato, he defined God to be un-
changeable and to preserve eternal repose, still his
doctrine is not uninfluenced by the view, that good,
and the knowledge of reason consists in motion/^
God, he says, who is hidden within himself, and
who exists onlv for himself, who is reason and idea,
has by motion proceeded into generation/^

But here we meet with a view which, notwith-
standing that it may be referred to Plato and to
Aristotle, reminds us more strongly of Oriental
opinions. Plutarch brings prominently forward
the idea that Ciod envelops himself in a mysteri-
ous obscurity, and he distinguishes the absolute God
from the God the creator of the world, — a distinction
which in such a definite form at least is no where to
be met with in the earlier philosophy of Greece.
God, he says, in himself is unknown to us;'^'^ the
first God sees, but is not seen;^^ he is far removed

** De Is. ct Os. ii. Plutarch evinces a fondness for Pythagorean doctrines,
and particularly fivours that of the Metcniiisychosis. If the work De Esu
Ciirnium belongs to him, it also testifies to this predilection in so far, as although
not approving; of total abstinence from animal food, he yet wishes to limit the
use'of it.

*' De Is. et Os. Ix. O'vtoj kuI Tt)v votjiriv Kai ti)v <pp<'ivr](riv mc vov
<popuv K(it Kivr)fnv ovuav iifiivov kcu (ptpofikvov Kal to uvviirai Kni. ruya-
9bv oXwf Kui aptrriv lirl roic p'lovai Kai 9'iovai 9t<j0ai, k.t.X. II). Ixii.sq.;
Ixxvii; QufESt. Plat. ii. 1.

** De Is. et On. Ixii. fin. Aivirrtrai St ku'l Cia tovtoiv u pvOoi;, iiri kuO'
invTov 6 Tov Otoii vovq Kai \6yoQ, iv rip iopanp Kai aipavtl ^t/SijKWf, ii'c
yivtniv vtto KtviirrtM^ irpoiiXOi.

*'' De Pyth. Orac. 21. KaH' iatno yi'ni iirriXiir >;/hi'.

♦• De Is. et Os. 7.5.
IV. 2 K

498 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

from the earth ; it would be a tainting his pure
essence if he were to come into contact with
things that are subject to decay and death. The
souls of men which are invested with bodies and
liable to suffering, have no community with him,
except the power of gaining revelation from him
during dreams by means of philosophy. It is
only when, being separated from body, they have
reached to the invisible and the holy, where they
joy to behold the beauty which is invisible to men
that this God is their guide and their king.^^ The
difference however which we here believe to exist
between Plutarch and the earlier philosophers of
Greece, is simply one of degree, for the doctrines of
the latter contain passages which place whatever is
mundane, and especially the terrestial life, in a cer-
tain alienation from God. Plutarch seems only to
have dwelt upon it with greater complacency. And
thus, in his system, Isis plays nearly the same part
that the Word of God does in that of Philo ; she is
supposed to form the intermediate link which con-
nects earthly and perishable things with Osiris, the
supreme God. Similarly to Philo, he advances the
idea that God is simple and a pure light; he calls
him the existent, his essence is unity; all distinc-
tion, all difference arises only in order to produce
the non-existent.^" Therefore the idea of the intel-

*^ lb. Ixxix, 'O 5' tari ii'iv avrbg airwrdru) rrJQ jriQ dxpo-vrog Koi aii'iav-
TOQ Koi KaOapbg oiiaiaq airdarjQ <pQopav Stxofiivrjg kuI Qavarov, dvOpioTrwv
Si ypvxcitC ivravdoi jiiv vno awndrwv Kal ttuBwv Trtpiexofiivaig ovk ioti
fiiTOvaia tov Qtov, TrXt/v oaov ovuparoQ djiavpov Oiytiv votjffei Std ^iXo-
ffo^iac, K.T.X. De E. I. ap. Delph. xx.

^° De E.I. ap. Delph. xx. 'AW' 'iv tlvai Stl to ov, o'laxtp bv to 'iv, 7) S'
tTspoTT^Q, cia(popu TOV oj'tOq, ii£ yiviffiv i^inrarai tov /*)) oi'toq. De la.
et Os. 73.

PLUTARCH. 499

lectually cognisable, the pure and the holy is, as it
were, a lightning flash which permits man to touch
and perceive the same.^^ The thoughts, ideas, and
emanations of God remain within the heavens and
the stars ; they come to man dispersedly only, and at
intervals, and do not abide with him long, and it is
the office of Isis to sustain and cherish them in this
form.'^^ This goddess, ruling over the sensible
things of this world, gathers together the scattered
members of God and preserves them, and permits
man to see the supra-sensible in the sensible. ^^ But
on this head Plutarch is not always perfectly con-
sistent. We meet in his writings with representa-
tions which apparently take a diflerent direction of
thought. God, he teaches us, is the beginning or
principle, and every princi})le multiplies by its
creative energy, that which proceeds out of itself.^"*
This creative energy of God', as manifest in the
world, is in the next place described not only as
giving form and fashion to matter, but as multiply-
ing itself therein, for the rational soul is explained
to be not only a work, but also a portion of God.^'

It would be extremely difficult, from such occa-
sional remarks and such vacillating' and conflictino-
views, to extract the core and spirit of Plutarch's
real opinions, did not his view of the relation of God
to the world furnish a central point, to which he fre-
quently recurs, and with which his assertions, for
the most part, coincide. This point in which all

" De Is. ct Ob. 1. 1.

lb. lix. Oi jitv yuf, In ov[taviy kci'i drrTpnti; Xnyni Kai tlSyj Kai airoft-
poai rov Otot) /ififovat, ru Si ro7f TraOtiTiKul^ ciia7raf)ixti>a, k.t.X.
" L. 1 ; ib. 7K. ■■' llj. -.'.(i. " Plat. QuiEst. ii. 2.

2 K 2

500 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

else centres, is the relation of matter to God. He
expressly declares it to be his conviction, that it is
necessary to recur frequently to the truth, that the
irrational soul and formless body were from all time
together, and they had neither beginning nor pro-
duction. ^° But now as he set out with this position,
his own habit of thought necessarily led him, on the
other hand, to posit also a rational principle, which
might implant reason into the irrational soul and
give a form to rude matter, so that he would seem
to recognise three principles, which originally,
independent of each other, co-operated in the forma-
tion of the world. ^^ But as we have already seen,
he considered two of these principles to have been
together originally, and he may consequently have
regarded his own view as coinciding with the doc-
trines of Plato and Aristotle, according to what he
felt to be their true interpretation, and as agreeing
also with that of Zoroaster, who referred the origin
of the world to two principles — 'good and evil.^^
And this opinion Plutarch manages to connect even
with the proposition which we have already reported,
that it is necessary in the explanation of phenomena
to apprehend physical and natural causes as well as
the divine first cause, who is the beginning and end
of all things.^^ And thus does he satisfy his incli-
nation, to attach his own novelties to some more
ancient doctrine.

** lb iv. "H ro noXXaKiQ ixf iijxiHv Xtyofiivov a\r)9ic iffriv ; r] fiev yap
dvovQ 4'^X'l ''"' '^^ dixop(pov (TuJ/ia (TVfVTriip-j^ov aWrjXois ail Kal oiiSin-
pov avTu)v y'tvtdiv i(JXtv ovS' apx^jv.

'' L. 1.

^ De Def. Orac. 47; de Anim. Procr. 6, 27.; de la. et Os.MG. sqq.

*^ De Def. Or. 47, 48.

PLUTARCH. 501

His view becomes still more distinct, when we
examine the arguments by which he supports it.
He declares matter to be indispensable for the crea-
tion of the world, not only on the ground that it was
necessary to maintain the old maxim, that nothing
can come of nothing ;^° but he seems to have been
deeply impressed with the consideration that the evil
to be found in the world required to be accounted
for. On this ground, he decidedly condemns the
hypothesis of a matter without properties, for such, he
argues, must lend itself, without power of resistance,
to the formation of all possible good. He indulges his
aversion to the Stoics by attributing this supposition
exclusively to them, and censures them for deriving
evil from the non-existent without cause or reason. ^^
God therefore, he infers, cannot be made the sole
cause of the world, for as without God there could
not be anything good in it, so, on the other hand,
if all things proceeded from God, no evil would be
found among them.^^ On these grounds he con-
siders himself compelled to give a positive value to
matter as the cause of evil, although, on the other
hand, he was constrained to find in it a certain in-
definite potentiality by virtue of which it presented to
God a fitting material for the production of good.
Thus, then, with Plutarch did the notion of matter
fall into two parts — the principle of evil, and the

"^ De Anim. Procr. .5.

'^ De Anim. Procr. (j. At yd() SrwiKai KaraXafipdvovaiv >'//x(ic drropiat
rh icaicov Ik tov furj ovTog avaiTtujg Kal aytvvijrwf iTTUvdyovrig • Ittu
Twp y' ovTOJV ovTt rb ayaOov ovri to dnoiov itKog tariv ovrriav kokov Kai
yivorip irapaffx^^iv- Uc Is. cl Os. xlv. Iviii. ; Ailv. Stoic, xxxiv.

'• De Is. et <Js. xlv. ' ASvvarov yap rj ipXavpov otiovp, onov ttuvtmv, t)
\p7](TT6v, oirov litjSivbg 6 Gtog ainog, iyytvia9ai.

502 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

indifferent which may receive a determination either
for good or for evil ; and on this account, by means
of his notion of matter, connects together the two
terms of the Platonic contrariety of the like and the
different, i. e. of the good and the evil.^^ Before
the creation of the world, there was a privation of
form, but not of body or of soul, for God could
neither form body of the incorporeal nor a soul of the
soulless ; but having these two without order and
measure, he reduced them into a whole of the most
perfect beauty, united them together, and formed of
their union the most perfect of living creatures.^*
The irrational soul moreover is called indefinite
motion, which we may regard as the formless and
unfashioned matter of time, as contrariwise the
formless incorporeal appears as the matter of the
orderl}^ system of the world in space.^^

Now it may, at first view, appear singular that
Plutarch should have referred original evil to the
unorderly motion of the soul, and not to the cor-
poreal ; which, on the other hand, he regarded as
the indiff'erent, which unresistingly permits itself to
be transformed into good. Indeed, it is especially
singular, when we bear in mind the strong incli-
nation of all the previous philosophers, whose
opinions Plutarch in other respects adopted, to
view the corporeal as an incumbrance and evil to
the soul, and when we elsewhere find him describing

63 De An. Procr. 26.

** lb. V. 'A/cocr/iia yap r/v to. Trpo rijc row Koofiov yivkaiMQ, aKoa/iia Se

oii/c dcnofiaro^, ovS' dKivt]Tog, ovS' d-ipvxnc o yap 9ebg ovrt aSifta

TO dawixarov, ovrt 'ipvxt)v to d->pv\ov inoirjaiv, k.t.X.

** Plat. Quast. viii. 4.

PLUTARCH. 503

the body as the tomb of tlie soul, and death as its
emancipation from evil. But on this point his
statements are most precise and decided. Thus he
demands of such as ascribe the Platonic necessity to
corporeal matter, how was it possible for Plato, who
understood by matter an entity without properties
or forces of its own, to look upon such an inert
mass, devoid of any particular determination one
way or other as the principle of evil, as a power
disobedient to the divine will ?*^*^ Plato, he says,
called matter the mother and nurse of all things,
while the cause of evil was in his view unensouled
motion f thus he also speaks of a twofold soul — a
good and an evil one, of which the former was first
formed by the creation of the world, while the
latter is eternal and imperishable, prior to the
creation, and the first cause of all evil.^^ In this
way did Plutarch connect his own opinion with
certain passages of Plato's writings ; nevertheless, his
convictions could not have been formed in the first
instance from passages like these, which easily ad-
mitted of a very different interpretation, and it was
probably founded in the main on the moral view
which he entertained of evil. This led him to look
upon evil as a disorder of the soul, not arising from
external circumstances, but having its ground in
itself. He therefore zealously combated the Stoical
view, that in the soul all is dependent on reason,
and that in mankind the only point to be considered

*' De Anim. Procr, 6. Oit ydp o\6v ri rb uiroiov kuI apydv l^ avrov Kai
ajipiniQ airiav kukov Kai apxr)v inrori^tff^ai rbv TlXdroJva Kai KaXuv
aTTHf/iav, alaxpiv Kai kcikottouU', av^ic S' /ii>ayK>]i', iroXXd r<^7 ^ttf!
vvirii.u\ov(jav Kai aipi)vn'iZ,oi)rTav.

•^ lb. 7. '* lb. <;, R, 9; de Is. et Os. 48.

504 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

is the distinction between soul and matter. In his
view, on the contrary, the soul appeared to consist
of two parts — the rational and the irrational, the
good and the evil, the former being derived from
God the creator of the world, the latter from
itself; and this irrational and evil part of the soul
possesses a power to resist the good, and must ulti-
mately be referred to the principle of evil in the
world. ^^ In this way did Plutarch contrive to
connect his ethical doctrine with his general theory
of the world. And we may also recognise its in-
fluence in his hypothesis of evil demons, which he
has carried out with greater strictness than even
Plato was able to do, even though he went so far as
to ascribe to the heavenly bodies a participation in
that mixture of good and evil which reigns through-
out the world. ^°

In this view, however, there was a point of some
difficulty. Plutarch had been led, by a consider-
ation of the evil to be found in man, and which ap-
peared to him truly fearful, to regard the primary
soul as evil, by reason of its unrestrained course.
But in the same way the soul of man must have
also appeared to him the seat of true good, and he

•' De Virt. Mor. 3. 'Eot/cs Se Xa^tlv tovto tovq uTravrag, y SiTTog t'lfiuiv
wg dXrj^ojg eKatrrog koTi Kal crvv^trog' t^v yup tr'tpav diir\6riv ov KartlSov,

dWd Ttjv TpvxvQ '^^'- (^^l^ctTog fii^iv kiKpavetrrspav ovaav ijupaviLg

fisvTOL Kai (itjiaiwg Kal dvaix<piS6K,ojg UXutuv avi/etStv, on toxjtov yt tov
KOff/jLov TO tfiipvxov ovx uTrXovv ovSe dffvvSrtTov ovSe fiovoeiSkg kdTiv, dW

tK rfjg ravTOV Kal rfjg rov irkpov fieniyfikvov Svvdfiiwg, k.t.X r; re

dvSrpwTTOv tpvxfi, fiepog i] Tjififia Trjg rov iravrbc ovaa Kal avvqpfioajxkvq
Kara Xoyovg Kul dpi^fiovg toiKorag SKtivoig, oux dnXf] Tig iariv, ovdi
ofioioiraBi'jg, dXX' 'irtpov fiiv ixti to voipov Kal XoyiariKov, (^ Kpartiv rov
dv^pojirov Kara (pvffiv Kai upxtiv irpoaijKov iariv, 'irtpov St to Tra^ijriKov
Kai dXoyov Kal TroXvTrXartg Kal draKTOv i^'J.avTov, iTnaracrlag Stofiivoy,^

^° De An. Pr.)cr. 28, in.

PLUTARCH. 505

would therefore be iuduced to assign to the pri-
mitive soul a capacity likewise for good.^^ Viewed
under this aspect, then, the primary soul would
appear to him indifferent as to good or evil — an
intermediate principle. But, on the other hand,
although in the view of Plutarch the corporeal is
not properly evil, yet is it incapable of that good
which he invariably ascribed to the spiritual, but
rather presents to the irrational or sensuous part of
the soul many evil seductions,'^ whereby its intel-
lectual faculties are impeded. Consequently, from
this point of view, the corporeal principle must
appear to be originally evil. Now, by these con-
siderations, the contrariet}' which Plutarch assumed
to exist between the evil soul and the corporeal
matter, which is susceptible of all qualities and
states, assumes an entirely new phase. A dispo-
sition arises to ascribe to the soul a longing and
desire for good, and to regard it as the intermediate
principle between good and evil ;'^^ while to the
body are apparently imputed the diversified ills
wliich man has to endure in this life, and it is thereby
made to be the ground of evil. On the whole,
Plutarcli felt himself unable to separate the con-
stituents of the two principles, which were formed
of God, in sucli a manner as to arrange on one
side the corporeal and whatever is obedient to
reason, and on the other that which is of the nature
of the soul and repugnant to reason. On the con-

^' II). '.). " lb. 27, ■-'(!.

^* De Ih. ft Os. 4iT, fin. 'ATroXfiVtt tt kuI r()iTtiv rivd fiiralv (pvttiv, ovk
uxl/vxov, ovc' aXoyov, avc' uKivtjrot' tK "irj/c, itiTirtp tvioi twfiil^ovffiv,
AW avaKiifiivTjv an<poiv tKiivniQ, ifitfiivrjt^ di rf/Q afiiivovoi- aii rat
TTO^oviTfiv Kui SiJiKovaciv. lb. 5.T.

506 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

trary, he found himself constrained to ascribe an
indifference doubtless for good or evil, but yet a
power of seducing to the latter ; and to the soul in
the same manner a tendency on the whole to evil,
but at the same time a capacity of being disposed
to good/^ But notwithstanding, he perseveres in
keeping these constituents apart from each other,
and essentially he posits three distinct principles.
And here it is necessary, once for all, to remark,
that in this theory the corporeal plays a very
subordinate part. It is true, that frequent mention
is made of the beauty of its forms and harmo-
nious movements ; but it is evident, on the whole,
that, to the mind of Plutarch, good has its seat
mainly in the soul. This is the case with evil
also ; for in reference to that, the body scarcely
appears in any other light than as the occasion of
the evil inclinations of the soul. But now, the
more that the corporeal is withdrawn from con-
sideration, the greater desire do we find to exalt
the moving and animating force of the soul which
universally pervades matter. With this desire was
connected his theory of demoniacal existence, the

^* De Is. et Os. 49. 'ATroXscrS'ai Se Tr)v ^avXrjv (sc. dvvafiiv) travTcnraaiv
advvarov, iroXkijv ji'tv IfnrstpvKvlav np awnari, ttoWtjv di ry ipvxy fov

iravToq iv fiiv ovv ry 'i'^XV vovg Ka'i \6yoc, 6 rwv apiiTTu>v

7ra.pT0)v r'jyifiMV Kai KVpiog, 'Oaipig icsTiV iv ce yy Kai TrvtvfiUTi Koi
vdari Kai ovpavtp Kai durpoig ro rtrayfiEvov Kai KaBeffrtiKog Kai vyiaivov
'OaipidoQ airoppori Kai tiKoJV ijKpaivofiivi). Tvipiliv cl Trig ■«/'i'X'JC ''o ira^rj-
TiKov Kai TiraviKOV Kai oKoyov Kai ifnrXrjKTov' vov St awfiariKov rh
tTriKXijTov Kai voawdeg Kai rapaKTiKbv dwpiaig Kai SvaKpaffiaig, Kr.\. One
of the principal points of difference in the expositions of this doctrine, which
Plutarch has given in considerable details in the works de Is. et Os. is, that in
the latter he labours to refer the contrariety between the evil and middle prin-
ciple to that between the evil soul and corporeal matter, while in the former he
is rather disposed to see evil in both.

PLUTARCH. 507

notion of which comes prominently forward
wherever the idea of a spiritual existence, raised
far above terrestrial life, occurs in a more general
and important signification, and especially where
it is applied to the principles of mundane existence,
which are not of a divine nature.

In this doctrine of Plutarch, it is impossible to
overlook its approximation to Oriental ideas, not-
withstanding that the Grecian element still pre-
ponderates in its composition. This Oriental ten-
dency does not venture to show itself openly, but
by lurking under the cover of ancient Greek doc-
trines, seeks to give to itself the air of a national
sentiment. This fact is most apparent on a com-
parison of Plutarch's writings with those of Philo.
The same principles nearly are maintained in both,
but in Philo in a much stronger and more decided
form. Both present the same thoughts : that God
in himself is hidden from man ; that contact with
matter would sully his eternal essence — the sim-
plicity of his essence; but Plutarch was, neverthe-
less, not restrained by them from considering God
as the good absolutely, and also from recognising
the operation of God in the development of the
good that is in the world. Both alike were dis-
posed to assume a sort of mystical union of man
with the divine ; but while Philo regarded this
union as superior to science, and as furnishing an
actual intuition of God, Plutarch ap})arcntly wa-
vered between the respective importance of the
two, and in (>nthusiasni saw nothing mon; than a
nurrlv dcnioiiiacal influence. iMiitlicr, I'ljilo's
tiieory ol the intermediate essences whicli arc

508 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

to form the links of the natural communion between
God and man is much more complete ; his belief
in a descending series of emanations from God,
by which the divine ultimately comes down to
man, is much firmer ; in all other correspondent
opinions, too, he is much more decided than
Plutarch, who touches on them incidentally only,
and without connection. Moreover, we may notice
how cautiously the latter recommends a life of
abstinence as a means for arriving at a know-
ledge of God, while his moral precepts urgently
invite men to political life ; and how utterly averse
he is to that contemplative repose which Philo so
highly extolled ; and how little his view of religious
worship betrays the silent and almost melancholy
earnestness of Philo, but rather exhibits the lighter
and more cheerful colours of the Grecian worship.
We might, perhaps, be justified in asserting, that
all these differences had their centre in their re-
spective views of the highest grounds of all entit}'.
Plutarch, it is true, brings more prominently for-
ward than Philo does the principle of evil in the
world, but it is only with a view to be able to refer
the disposition which is in it for good to its original
nature ; when in the view of Philo the repugnant
nature of matter, which absolutely refuses to be
brought into subjection to a spiritual life, necessarily
stren2:thened the aversion with which he res^arded
the union of man's soul with the corporeal. Plutarch
evinces a decided wish to free man, amid the evils
of the sensible world, from all fear of the evil prin-
ciple ; the powers which he assigns to these op-
posing principles are far from equal, and the mas-

LUCIUS APULEIU9. 509

tery is ascribed to good/'^ It was but natural that
Oriental conceptions should only have gained a
gradual admission into the Grecian mind.

We must not overlook the fact, that these con-
ceptions began to find their way among the Latin
writers also of this period. We have a proof of
this in the works of L. Apuleius, who in the
time of the Antonines was a teacher of the Platonic
and Aristotelian philosophies at Medaura of Nu-
midia. He stands in nearly the same relation to
Plutarch as Roman does to Grecian philoso-
phy. His sketch of the Platonic and Aristotelian
doctrines is a meagre compilation, deficient in
right apprehension of principles and systematic con-
nection. All that we are called upon to notice, is
simply his view of God and of the demons in their
relation to the world. He declares the superintend-
ence of all things to be derogatory to God, and
therefore ascribes to him a host of ministers by
whose agency he disposes all mundane events.'^
These ministers are the demons wliich, according to
his, in the main, very sensuous conceptions of them,
have their abode in the air, and being encompassed
with aeriform bodies, are the true inhabitants and
living creatures of the intermediate region between
heaven and earth." All the religious ceremonies

" De Is. et Os. 4'J, in. Mifnyfiivt) yap r/ rovct rov Koafiov ytviaig icai
avaraatc IK Ivavriutv, ov /ti)v laoa^ivwv iivpafituv, dXXd r^c (iiXriovog
TO KijciTOQ tariv.

'• De Mundo, p. 70. cd. Elmcnliorbt. Quod iti cui viro vtl cuilibct rcgi in"
decorum est per semet ij^sum i)rocuraro omnia, quae proficiunt, nuilto magis
deo inconveniens erit. (Compare herewith the pseudo-Aristotelian work on
the World, c. G.) De Duo Socr. p. 4.'), 40.

" De Df-ctr. Plat. i. p. 7 ; de Deo .Socr. II. 11 ; p. V.K Thus .tliu neo-Pla-
toniats corrected Plato.

510 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

of the Greeks and barbarians, and even the practice
of magic, have these beings for their objects/^ No-
thing that passes within the human heart is, he thinks,
hidden from them, and he makes them to act the
part of conscience in the human mind/^ Anything
like scientific connection between these several pro-
positions, it would be vain to look for in such a
writer as Apuleius. We shall therefore merely
observe further, that he speaks of a trinity of
divine faculties, which are immutable and eternal :
God himself; the divine Reason which comprises
the ideas ; and the soul of the world. And to this
trinity he opposes the mutable things of this world,
which do not truly exist, but must be looked upon
as copies of the truly existent. ^°

The philosophy of this period having once taken
this direction, it gradually advanced in it, not
wholly uninfluenced by the stimulus which the
writings of Plutarch afforded. ^^ Our information
on this point consists of little more than desultory
notices both of the authors and doctrines, which
contributed to diffuse these ideas. Among those of
whose writings the neo-Platonists profitably availed
themselves, Cronius and Numenius are especially
mentioned, being described as men of a congenial
spirit.^^ Of them we shall not venture to speak
more precisely than to say, that with regard to

""* De Deo Socr. 11. II. " lb. p. 51.

"" De Doctr. Plat. i. 4. Et sicut superior (sc. essentia) vera esse memora-
tur, banc non esse vere possumiis dicere. Et primie quidem substantite vel es-
sentise primum deum esse et mentem formasque rerum et animam ; secundae
substantiae omnia, quae inde formantur, etc.

*^ Cf. Eunap. De Vit. Phil. Prooem. p. 5, sqq. Commel.

^' Porphyr. de Antro Nymph. 21. In this work Cronius is mentioned more
than once as the author of a mystical interpretation of Homer.

NUMENIUS. 511

chronology they properly take their position in the
present place ;^^ of Cronius notliing has been pre-
served beyond a few propositions relating* to the
doctrine of metempsychosis, and destitute of ori-
ginality ;®^ of the doctrines of Niimenius we possess
fuller information, and they furnish us with a point
of comparison, which it will be imperative on us to
make known.

The high estimation in which neo-Platonists
held the numerous writmgs of Numenius, may be in-
ferred from the great labour bestowed upon them by
Amelius, one of the most distinguished disciples of
Plotinus,^"" and from the prevalent suspicion against
which he found it necessary to defend his master of
having adopted without acknowledgment the doc-
trine of Numenius, as the foundation of his own.®^
As Numenius was born at Apamea in Syria, we
may perhaps ascribe to the influence of country,
his adoption of Oriental ideas, and the cause of
his paying to those religious views, with which the
former arc usually associated, a higher and more ex-
tensive regard than was paid to them by later mem-
bers of the neo-Platonical school. ^^ The character of
Moses he held in the highest veneration, as proved
by the title of the Atlienian Moses vvliich he gave to
Plato f^ and, in general, attributed great importance

"" Clemens Alexandrinus is the earliest writer that mentions Numenius.
According to I'rocl. in Tim. ii. p. 93, he cannot well have been earlier than
IIcTodes Atticus.

** Ncmes. de Nat. Horn. ii. ■'>(), Antv.

** Forpbyr. v. Plot, c. 2. I reckon the paragraphs of the Basle Edition as
chapters.

'^ II). c. 1 1. '^ .Suid. 8. V. NoK^i^i'iO!,-.

•" Porphyr. dc Antro Nymph. 10 ; Clem. Alex. Strom, i. p. 342.

512 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

to the Jewish and other Oriental traditions, — those
of the Egyptian, the Magi, and the Brahmins, for
instance ;^^ while he has made free use of the history
of our Saviour, without however naming him, for
the purpose of his allegorical interpretations.^" He
appears to have been of opinion, that the wisdom of
Greece original!}" flowed from an Eastern source ;
at least his statements would lead to the conclu-
sion, that he was disposed to refer Plato to Pytha-
goras, and Pythagoras to the sages of the East.^^
Socrates and Plato appear to him, it is true, to have
possessed correct ideas and a true religious feel-
ing, but yet not to have given a sufficiently clear
expression to it.^^ The latter circumstance was the
source of all the mistakes of subsequent philoso-
phers, Aristotle, the Stoics, and the members of
the New Academy, in whom he placed the decline
of the older philosophy of Greece. To judge
from the extant fragments, the loss of his entire
works is not greatly to be regretted, since they ex-
hibit their author as one who, without affording
the slightest trace of profound inquiry, displays
with no little vanity, the patchwork of his eru-
dition, and at the same time gives himself the lofty
air of a philosopher, who condescended to such
things merely for the sake of amusement.^^ Never-
tlieless, he is justly entitled to the praise of having

«» Euseb. Pr. Ev. ix. 7, 8.

'" Grig. c. Gels iv. 51, 543, ed. Delarue.

" Euseb. Pr. Ev. ix. 7 ; xi. 10 ; xiv. 5.

** lb. xiv, 5.

-^ This opinion is principally grounded on the fragments of his work Trtol
TTJQ Twv ' AKacrifidiKwv Trpbg HXaTiova ciaffrdaewg, which Eusebius Pr. Ev.
xiv. 5, sqq. gives. See particularly c. 6. p. 7.32 fin. Ed. Colon. 1688.

NUMENIUS. 513

explained the main features of his doctrine with
tolerable precision and clearness.

With the philosophers who followed this direction
of thought, we have already seen the idea of being-
assuming a conspicuous and important position.
This was also the case with Nuraenius. His trea-
tise concerning good, which may be regarded as
the most valuable of his works, probably began
with an examination of this notion. Men habitu-
ally oppose it to the notion of the changeable and
perishable. Therefore being cannot be a body
because whatever is corporeal is perishable, — nor
matter, because that is not permanent but transi-
tory; and it is infinite, therefore indefinite, and con-
sequently irrational and unknowable. Proceeding
now from this notion of the corporeal, Numenius
endeavours to demonstrate the necessi ty of an in-
corporeal first cause. The corporeal, he argues,
requires something besides itself to hold it in com-
bination, for it is infinitely divisible and con-
sequently may be easily dissipated. For the same
reason, one corporeal nature cannot hold another in
an unchangeable unity ; but it is requisite to su])pose
a something incorporeal — an immaterial soul to
preserve the body from dissipation and corruption.
As a contingent question, Numenius here en-
deavours to prove, that the incorporeal can exist in
space ; and that such is the case with the force
which keeps body in combination, and for this pur-
pose enters into a controversy with thc^ Stoics, who
had declared quality and magnitude, and whatever
else is an accident of body, to be in itself corporeal

IV. 2 L

514 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

also.^* The incorporeal as the contrary of divisible
and changeable body, he regards as a simple and
unchangeable substance ; in short, as that which
jg 95 Whoever would wish to rise to the right ap-
prehension of being, him Numenius recommends, in
Plato's manner, to abstain from all sensual plea-
sures, and after applying diligently to mathematical
sciences, to investigate the nature of the One. This
he calls Reason or the Good.^^ Now to good nothing
can be likened ; nothing that is sensuous can bear
to behold it near at hand, and must view it as it were
at a glance and from a distance. The supreme and
prime Reason is beyond the ken of man. On this
account Numenius rejoices in his office, which is to
make known to man whatever is most marvellous in
this first and supreme God ; and man ought not to
wonder if he is told that the quietude of the first
cause of all is innate motion. ^'^

Apparently, we have here a doctrine whose ob-
ject was, to explain and account for the link which
connects the supreme immutable God and the
mutable world. But in truth, Numenius found it
a difl&cult undertaking to connect God, the self-
perfect essence, with matter. Indeed he believed,

9* Euseb. Pr. Ev. xv. 17 ; Nemes. de Nat. Horn. ii. 29^ Ed. Antv. Thai
this passage develops the doctrine of Numenius was seen by Tennemann.
The doctrine of the incorporeity of qualities was not unfrequently discussed in
this age without our being able to trace its rise. It was evidently formed in
opposition to the exaggerations of the Stoical doctrine. We meet with it in Al-
cinous among others, and especially in the work. Quod Qualitates Incorporese,
which is to be found among the works of Galen.

" Eus. Pr. Ev. xi. 10. ^^ lb. xi. 18, 22.

^ lb. 18. M>) Sravfiaffyz S', ti tovt' i(l>riv, ttoXv yap 'in ^av/iaffTorepov
CLKOvay. avrl yap rj/c TrpoaovtrrjQ ti^ otvTtpii) Kivi]aE{i)Q ttjv irpoaovvav
T<^ TrpWTtf) dTCKSiV (pTjfii tlvui Kivrjffiv avfx^vTOV. lb, 22.

NUMENIUS. 515

that every change is a further estrangement from
the pure essence of God. Indeed he was chiefly
led to the notion of an incorporeal essence, by the
necessity he felt of acknowledging an unchange-
able substance. If he ascribes life to the first God,
it is nevertheless, a stationary life ; God is inactive,
far estranged from all operation — he is not the
Creator of the world. ^^ He is but the Father of the
Creator deity ; a proposition, which in all proba-
bility, implied the principle of the theory of ema-
nation, which made the second cause to proceed
from the first without change of any kind. He
seems to have placed this view in a very strong
and suitable light, by denying that the divine
giving was in any respect to be compared with the
same act of man. In the latter, tlie gift in passing
to the recipient, passes wholly away from the donor ;
but with the gifts of God it is not so. In the same
way that science, when communicated to others, is
not lost by him who imparts it, but on the contrary,
he is ratlier benefited by its communication ; so
God imparts his gifts to the second cause — Reason,
viz. whicli diffuses itself over the world. For
science remains with God who gave it, in the same
degree that it does with me or thee who receive it

'■"' lb. in. Kai yap ovrt it]fiiovpyiiv iari xptiJ^v tuv wpwTOV

rov fitv 'TpojTov Snuv apyov tlvai tpywv ^vfiiravTUV.

^' '• Kai lillQ Ct TTUKlV TTlpi TOV ITOJQ UTTO TOV TTpoiTOV UtTlOV TV

CtvTtpov inriarr) roiact <pi]rriv' onoca Sk So^e.VTa fitTtiffi npoij rov \afi-
ftavovTOj uTTtX^ovra tK tov dfSwKnrog, ten S^cpcnreta (inriv av^pwTTna's,
Xprjpara, vnpitTjin (coTXov, tTritDipov. rnvTi pkv oiiv Inri Si'>;ra Kai
av-3piiJiTiva- Tu t't 3tT« ifTTiv, ola fie.Tavo3tVTa iv^'tvc' ticil^i ytytvt)fi'fva
Iv^'tvot Tt ovK &7re\r]\v!^t, KSiKtl^i ytvoptvn tuv ptv oii'ijfrt, rov S' ovk
fft\a\yf Kni TrfioTwj/r/iTt r^i TTfpi oiv rjTriiTTaTO avctiivi^nti, tOTi St- Tovrn to
KaXov xpripa, iTridr >'///»/ >'/ koXi], 7)1; oivuto p'tv o Xaftoiv, vvk aTroXfiTrtTai
i' avTijc o StCwKWi, K.r.X.

2 L 2

516 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

This is the distinction which Numenius draws
between his First and Second God. The first God
is the absolute Good, Reason, the primary principle
of the substance which is intellectually cognisable
— the idea ; but the Second is the copy — the imita-
tion of the First, and since the copies of the essence
must be in a state of becoming, he is the principle of
all becoming. The position of the latter has a double
aspect ; on the one side turning to his own principle,
he forms the idea of himself and receives the same,
i. e. knowledge from the First God, and on the other,
turning towards the becoming, he forms the world. ^"°
Now in this representation the creation does not ap-
pear independent of the First God, since the Second
proceeds from the First God, is conceived of as his
Son, and in the formation of the world has simply
the ideas for his model. The First God is therefore
not inconsistently named the lawgiver,^ who dis-
tributes among things the seeds of soul, which had
been dispersed by the Second God throughout the
world. Now God the Creator, while he combines and
harmoniousl}'^ arranges the multiplicity of matter,
looks unto God, and from this contemplation derives
judgment, but deduces the tendency to change the
resistance of matter.^"^ This twofold tendency of
the Second God Numenius carries out further, and

^°° lb. 22. El £' tan fiiv votjrov »; ovaia koI r) iSia, ravrtjg 5' ujimoXo-
yil^i] TvpiajivTepov Kai alriov ilvai 6 vovQf aiiroQ oiiro(; fiovoQ ivpTjrai
ojv TO dya^ov. /cai yap ti 6 fiiv 5t]/iiovpybQ BeoQ tan ysviaiog apxT), to
dya^bv ovaiag tarlv dpx^l- dvdXoyov ck tovtoj fiiv 6 ciifxiovpybg ^foCj
fell/ aiirov fxifiTjTtjQ, Ty £k ovalq, t/ ysviaig, iikojv avrijQ ovau Kai fiifirj/ia .
... 6 yap civTtpog, SiTTog wv avTog ttouI tt/v tb iSiav tavTov Kai Tbv
Koaixov, crj/iiovpybg uiv, iiriiTa Smop-qTiKbg oXwf. Cf. Procl. in Tim. iv.249.

'"' lb. 18. Aa/jijUdvei dt rb fiiv KpiTiKbv drcb Tijg ^twpiag, to 5*
bpfirjTiKov dirb Tijg ttpiffiwg.

NUMENIUS. 517

he thus divides his Second God into a Second and a
Third. The two are in reality one, but yet by the
union with matter, which is dual, they also receive
from it duality, while they impart unity to it. On the
one hand the Second God exists absolutely, united
with the ideas, contemplating the supra-sensible,
being itself also supra-sensible; but on the other, it
adopts into itself the nature of matter, in that looking
thereat, it seeks to form and fashion it, and therein for-
gets itself; this sensible God is in short the world. ^'^^
We meet with a similar cast of thought in Nu-
menius' doctrine of the soul. Agreeably to the
nature of the world, into which the creative energy
. of God has entered, but in which its due office is to
be allowed to matter also, every thing, but especially
the soul, divides itself into two opposite natures.
According to this view, the soul is said not merely
to possess two opposite aspects, but rather to con-
sist of two distinct souls, of which one is rational,
the other irrational.^"^ These opposite natures

1j. 1. O ^eoQ o fxiv Trnwroij, tv iavr<it o)v tariv uttKovq oia to
lavrtp (Tvyyivofiivoc SioXov /ijJTrort dvai diaiptrog- 6 ^ebc fiivroi 6 Sev.
Ttpoc Kai Tpirog iarlv tif, avjjitpcponevoc Se ry vXy SvdSi ovay
t'vol niv aiiTrju, iJxi'CtTai li vir' avTijQ, ini^vfiifTiKOv tlcog
kxovariQ Ka\ ptovarjg. T(fi ovv firi ilvai Trpog rjp vot]r(i>, i/v yap av irpoQ
iavrifi, Sid to tt)v vKtjv fiXixnv, TaiiTtjc iiri^icXovfievoc, antpioTrTog
iuvTov yiviTai teal aTrrtrai tov airr^rj/rou Kui ■jTipitTrii, avdyfi Tt tn ilg

TO tCiov ii^oij tTTopi^dfiH/ug rfJQ vXrjg o H^v ovv npairog TTtpl

ra votjTa, 6 Si SiVTtpog mpi to. voqTa Kni aia'ii}TU. I'rocl. in Tim. ii,
•^3. o yup Ki')(jjioQ Kcir^ uiiruv (sc. No»i/x»/j'ioi'^ 6 Tpirvij tarl ^foi;. lliia
appears to be alliuicil to also, ib. v, 299. According to tlie aforc-iiuoted pas-
sage of Proclus, Numenius would seem besides to have expressed himself as
if he made the First and the Second God to be the Stj/jiiovpyoc, but the third
the work, (.iniiovpyovfiivov. Yet, as ho also made all thrt-c to lie identical, we
wmnot expect to find liim invariably and precisely maintaining their resjicctivo
diflFercnccH.

'"^ I'orphyr. ap. Stob. Eccl. i. «."$(;. 'AXXoi It, lov kui No 170; not

Ovo ■^v\dQ — txny tj/iUQ olovTUi, Trjv f^tir XoyiK}'ii>, r»)i' (^t dXoymi,

518 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

within the soul are in constant collision, just as good
and evil are for ever opposed to each other.^°^ For
from matter evil arises within the soul, and for this
reason the embodying of the soul is regarded as an
evil ;^°'' on the other hand, the soul has its portion
of good which accrues to it from its participation in
the divine Reason. This portion of good Numenius
seems to have made to consist chiefly in the intel-
lectual activity of the soul, although he does not
appear to have absolutely neglected all considera-
tions of a moral direction of it,^°^ Nevertheless,
in thejjortions of his doctrine which have reached
us, these considerations only occasionally occur,
whereas they speak, in the most decided tone possi-
ble, of science as the gift of God, and as that which
by its reception most identifies man with God.^°^
To the human soul Numenius ascribed a faculty
of cognition, wholly independent of sensation,
which accompanies indeed the sensuous presentation,
but nevertheless is still not to be regarded as the
cause of the latter.^°^ The former is the eflTect of
the rational, the latter of the irrational soul. In
the former he may perhaps have placed that ra-
tional cogitation, by means of which all appropriate
objects participate in good and are destined to be
united with it.^°^ This union he represented to be of

"* Jambl. ib, p. 894. "^ lb. p. 89G, 910.

los Euseb. Pr. Ev. xiii. 5.

^"^ Euseb. Pr. Ev. xi. ■22. Mtrs^f' ^' avrov ru ^trixovra Kai iv aXX(f>
fikv ovctvi, iv ci fiovift Tt^t (ppoviiv.

^"^ Porphyr. Ap. Stob. Eel. p. 832, 'SovjxIjvioq £e tijv avyKaraBiTiKriv
ivvajxiv irapaceKTiKiiv evepyeiwv fijaag dvai, (Tv^irrojfia avrrig <pi](yiv
ilvai TO (pavTaariKOVy ov /u^v Ipyov ti kcu cnrorkXiffna, aWd irapaKO-
Xov^tJUa.

"9 Euseb. Pr. Ev. xi. 22.

NUMENIUS. 519

SO intimate a nature, that all distinction becomes
merged in it. This view seems to have had some
reference to that other opinion of his, according to
which he derived human life solely from the Second
God, who by looking at us communicated life to the
body; by reason of which, TSumenius was also led
to assume a return of God into himself, in which he
will contemplate himself alone, while, on the other
hand, all things will be dissolved, and Reason alone
live a life of felicity.^^°

It must be manifest to all, that the doctrine of
Numenius sought to give a determinate shape to
the Oriental view of the relation which subsists
between the sensible and the supra-sensible world,
and has rounded itself off into a system, which is
mainly occupied with the highest of all human
notions, and has scarcely any other object than to
discover some means of passing from the supra-
sensible to the sensible, and of allowing the return
of the latter into the former, without greatly
troubling itself about the scientific foundation and
validity of man's idea of the supra-sensible/^^ And

^'° Jambl. A p. Stub. Eel. i. p. 10G6. "'Evuiaiv fiiv ovv Kai ravTortjra
aStaKptrop tFic ^vx>l<; ir{>^C ''"C tnvT^ig iH)-)(^aQ TrpeofSiiittv (paii'trai

iioVftfjVlOQ.

*'* Euseb. Pr. Ev. xi. 1!}. liXtTTovrog jxiv ovv Kai iireffTpafifiivov irpbg
rj/jtuiv tKaarov tov ^toii (rvfiftaivii l^rjv ri Kai ^idxiKta^ai Tort to. (TtoftaTa,
KiiltvovTU TOV itov Toli; aKpofto\itrp.o~i(;, hitckjtq'k^ovtoi- a fuj rr'/i' tav-
Tov TTtQiwifriv TOV ^tou TUVTa fiiv cnrotrftfvvva^ui, tov t't vovi' ^i}v ftiov
Inavpoftivov ({jSaijiovos. We must confess that we do not know how we
are to reconcile herewith anotlier account which Cousin has |)ul)li8he(l in the
Journal tics Savants, 1!>35, p. 11 !i, from an uni)ublishcil commentary on the
Phado of Plato, '6ti ol fi'iv uiro rj/f XoytKiJc 4'^Xy^ "XP' ^VC i/*>/'«^xoi;
i^iufC UTTCi^avaTiliovatv, wc Noi^/x/iviof.

520 ORIENTAL IDEAS AMONG THE GREEKS.

the consequence of all this is, that such doctrines
exhibit a religious tendency, rather than a valid
development of the understanding, and that free
recourse is had to the imagination in order to sup-
ply the deficiencies of research.

HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY.

BOOK XIII.

ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY : THIRD PERIOD. HISTORY OF

ITS DECLINE.

PART II.
NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

CHAPTER I.

RISE OF THE NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY. PLOTINUS-

Nothing can be more easy than the passage from
the preceding book to the present. The opening of
this period of our liistory, presents us with nothing
else than the firmer establishment, and the more
extensive, and also more regular development of the
line of thought which we depicted at the close of
the last portion of our labours. When we look to
the essential subject-matter of the two doctrines,
without either neglecting or exaggerating some pe-
culiar differences, both of exposition and of idea, we
are struck with the strong resemblance between the
system of Numenius and that of the neo-Platon-
ists. This indeed was, to a certain degree, admit-
ted by the latter.' If, tlien, we have nevertheless
separated our consideration of the two, wc have

' Longin. Ap. Porphyr. de Vita Pint. 15. The same result follows from the
statements of Porphyry nn<l lamblichus.

522 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

done so, because the historical course of the present
period is very different from that of its predecessor.
In the latter, this particular line of thought was asso-
ciated with many ill-assorted ideas of a Greek or
Roman character ; it had yet to make its way, and
to gain a gradual diffusion, and stood isolated amid
many other attempts directly repugnant to its nature.
But in the present period, we find it the presiding
object of philosophical investigation, which still
faithfully adhered to the Grecian enlightenment.
In this field, it had no opponent of any weight to
resist; conscious of supremacy, it gained rapid
authority over both Grecian and Barbarian minds, as
far as Grecian civilization had spread ; and, like it,
adopting into itself doctrines and customs otherwise
reputed barbarous. But while it thus gained so
wide an expansion, it also contracted such a latitu-
dinarian spirit, that its own loose and indeterminate
formularies could scarcely stretch wide enough to
comprehend its many contradictory opinions. One
enemy alone was excepted from this large tolerance:
after having mastered or made a compromise with
so much, one enemy alone remained with whom it
would not hear of peace — and this was Christianity.
This neo-Platonism combats, not as being of a bar-
barous origin, for such an objection, even though it
was still urged against Christianity, had long lost
all meaning and all force. But the great off'ence of
Christianity was that it was not equally tractable
with other religious schemes ; that it asserted its
claims as the only true religion, and condemned all
other forms, as adoring false gods, or not possessing
the true worship of the true God. With such an

NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY. 523

intolerant antagonist no peace was to be made ; and
still less as Christianity, though devoid of tlie in-
tellectual culture of the Greeks, and even lightly
esteeming if not actually despising it, was con-
tinually gaining ground on the neo-Platonic philo-
sophy. For the latter, driven to and fro amid the
cloudy vagueness of its many and diversified doc-
trines, had in the former an opponent which stood
firm and strong in oneness of idea, and in simplicity
and purity of sentiment. Before such an adversary
the fall of this school was ultimately certain. At
the first collision, indeed, it held itself high, both in
hope and courage, apparently little aware of the
might of its adversary, and confident in the re-
sources of ancient civilization, and trusting to its
traditions in a province where tradition was without
authority, and by a new interpretation attempting
to ffive freshness to the faded ideas of an obsolete
mode of thinking. But its pride and haughtiness
soon sunk, as it was more and more despoiled and
lienimed in by the new faith which would not allow
of the co-existence of any olden belief. And then
it began to make actual war u})on its powerful
adversary, and to have recourse to arms, of which it
was itself at first ashamed, — an expedient unworthy
of [)hilosophy and of the olden civilization of which
it boasted itself the chamj)ion. But these weapons
were found e(|ually powerless, and neo-PIatonism,
condescending to niurmurings and complaints, de-
s[)aired of the age and people in wliosc bosom it
had found its own development. It was its fate
to seek in vain amid remote times for tliat wiiich
was even close at hand.

524 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

At the close of the second or commencement of
the third century of our era, ^ Ammonius Saccas
founded that school of philosophy at Alexandria
which is usually designated by the name of neo-
Platonic. He is represented to have been the son
of Christian parents, and to have received from
them a Christian education, but when he was of
an age to think for himself, and had studied philo-
sophy, to have gone over to the pagan worship.^
In his doctrine he is said to have sought to establish
the agreement of Plato and Aristotle on all
leading points of speculation ;* an attempt which,
though it did not secure the unqualified appro-
bation of his successors, had nevertheless many
admirers. His school was frequented by a nume-
rous body of disciples, among whom we find many
distinguished names which we shall presently have
to notice, as he did not commit his own opinions
to writing.^ Among these was Longinus, who still

' Theodoret. de Gr, Aff. Cur. vi. 869. ed. Hal. places him in the reign of
Comraodus ; but he mu?t have been alive at least as late as 243 a.d. in which
year Plotinus quitted him. Compare the full and particular treatise by Dehaut,
Essai Historique sur la Vie et la Doctrine d'Ammonius Saccas. Brux. 1836,
4to.

' Porphyr. Ap, Euseb. Hist. Eccl. vi. 19. This much agitated passage
would have much greater weight if it came from a more trustworthy source.
Porphyry is, according to Eusebius, a discij)le, not only of Plotinus," a de-
cided contemner of whatever is earthly and historical, but also of Longinus,
who did not think quite the same on these matters, consequently the disciple
of two scholars of Ammonius ; nay, he has even confounded the two Origens,
his own contemporaries. The contradiction of Eusebius is of less importance
«ince he evidently confounds the two Ammonii.

■* Hierocles Ap. Phot. Cod. ccxiv. 283, ed. Hoesch. p. 285 ; Cod ccli. 750.

^ Longin. Ap. Porphyr. v. Plot. 15. In two passages of Numesius, de Nat.
Horn. ii. 29 ; iii. 56, sqq., we have a tolerably full analysis of the doctrine of
Ammonius of the soul, and its union with the body. But besides that so late
an authority, who does not give any references to his sources, is not to be im-
plicitly trusted, in both passages Ammonius seems to be named simply as the

AMMONIUS SACCAS, AND HIS DISCIPLES. 525

holds a conspicuous place among writers on style.
His extant treatise on the sublime affords little
means by which we can judge of his philosophical
opinions ; and all that can be discovered from the
fragments of his other works is, that on several
important points he was at issue with Plotinus,
another disciple of Ammonius.^ The last-named
philosopher was unquestionably the most distin-
guished member of tlie school of Saccas. The
controversy which was carried on between him and
Longinus, and the little respect which he evinced
for the latter, would seem to lead to the conclusion
that Ammonius had not given a fixed and definite
form to liis philosophical views/ Besides Plotinus,
two other disciples of Ammonius are mentioned
with distinction, Erennius and Origen.^ These three
individuals had entered into a mutual engagement
not to publish the doctrines of their master. Tliis
compact Erennius first broke by the publication
of some work or other, and he was followed by
Origen, whose treatises, however, were few and
unimportant,'^ but who, if we may infer so much

head of the neo-Platonic school, to whom the doctrines of his followers might
conveniently be referred.

• L. 1.

' I'orphyr, v. Plot. 8. Plotinus appears to have gradually given a precise
form to his doctrine. lb, 2, 3. Of Origcn also, a fellow disciple of Plotinus,
it is doubted whether he ever rose so high as tlie One which is above lleason.
Procl. Thcol. Plat. ii. 4, 00.

" lb. 2 ; Ilierocl. Ap. Phot. Cod. ccxiv. 285 ; Cod. ccli. 7.50.

» Porphyr. v. Plot. 2 ; Longin. ib. ]'>. And here pre-eminently lies the
necessity of distinguishing him from Origen the Christian father. It has t)ccn
assumed indeed that this person also was a discijilo of Ammonius, l)ut the
resisons assigned for this opinion are inadcciualc. If (Jrigen declares that he had
heard the philosopher of whom Heraclas was a discij.Ie, this tcslimoiiy is not
decisive in favour of Ammonius, since there was unquestionably more than
one teacher of his philosoi.hy at Alexandria. If Porphyry calls him a disciple

526 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

from the respect which Plotiniis testifies for him,
was no mean philosopher. By these publications
Plotinus considered himself released from his en-
gagement, and composed the works which we still
possess. The writings and the biographical notices
which we have of Plotinus are the sources from
which all our conjectures as to the doctrine of
Ammonius must be drawn, since our information
concerning the philosophy of Origen or Erennius
is extremely scanty, and inadequate for any such
purpose.

Plotinus was born at Lycopolis in Egypt,^° ac-
cording to the calculation of one of his scholars, in
the year 205 or 206, a.d.^^ He received his scien-
tific education at Alexandria, where in his twenty-
eighth year he devoted himself to the pursuit of phi-
losophy. Finding little satisfaction in the several
masters whose schools he first frequented, he at
last became a hearer of Ammonius, in whom he
recognised all that he desired. This philosopher
imbued his mind with a reverence and taste for
the wisdom of the East. After spending eleven
years in the school of Ammonius, he came to a
determination to join the expedition which the
Emperor Gordian was leading against the Persians,
for sake of the opportunity which it furnished him
of forming an acquaintance with the philosoph}^ of
the Persians and Indians. When on the murder

of Ammonius, this is only another instance of the already noticed confusion of
the heathen with the Christian Origen, Euseb. Hist. Eccl. vi. 19. Besides
which it is very improbable that Origen would have chosen an apostate like Am-
monius for his teacher in philosophy.

*" Eunap. V. Plotini; Suid. a. v. nAaiT-ij'Of. In which Lycopolis is uncertain.

" Porphyr. v. Plot. 1. •

PLOTINUS. 527

of Gordian, the expedition was abandoned, Plotinus
proceeded to Antioch, and shortly afterwards to
Rome. Here he suddenly assumed the character of
a teacher of philosophy, but appears at first to have
met with very little success ; for Amelius, one of
his most zealous disciples, told Porphyry that his
school was full of disorder and noisy declamation,
every member being permitted to state his difficulties
and express his opinions. Plotinus would appear to
have taught the doctrines of Ammonius, which only
in the tenth year of his residence at Rome, he beo-an
to commit to writing for the use of his most ap-
proved disciples. ^^ It would seem that his dis-
ciples, and especially Amelius and Porphyry
(of whom the latter did not join him before the
twentieth year of his residence in Rome), were v^ery
influential in the establishment and success of his
system. At all events, Plotinus arrived in the course
of time at the highest distinction. This is proved
by the names of the long list of scholars and emi-
nent personages, both male and female, who attached
themselves to his society, and the favour which
Gallienus and his consort evinced for him, and the
confidence in his personal integrity which caused

" lb. 2. I must here again recur to the reservation of the doctrines which
was agreed upon by the disciples of Ammonius. To judge from the statements of
Porphyry, it is doubtful whether their mutual engagement referred to his written
or his oral doctrine. It is said that Plotinus continued faitliful to his engage-
ment, and although he formed a school, did not teach to his disciiiles the doc-
trines of Ammonius TtjQiiiv £i ivtKTrvara tu Trapa rov 'Afiftuviov Soyfiaraj
but soon afterwards it is added, that he derived the instruction which he im
parted from his intercourse with Ammonius iic It riig ' Amxuiviov anvovaiaQ
iroiovfitvoQ rdg liarpiftdc. Porphyry appears to distinguish between a
secret and a public doctrine of Ammonius; but let us ask, was it required of his
disciples to keep back the former from their own approved scholars? Such a
duty would indeed be the extreme of mystery.

528 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

him to be chosen a guardian of several minors, and
not less so by the many hostile assaults which his
doctrine was exposed to/'^ After a residence at
Rome of six and twenty years, he was attacked by
a severe malady, which put a stop to his usual dis-
courses with his disciples, and he went into retire-
ment in Campania, where he died in the six and
sixtieth year of his age/^

The accounts which we have received of the
character of his school, seem to warrant the conclu-
sion, that the object of Plotinus was a general, but
mainly philosophical, culture of the mind. He
accustomed his disciples to express themselves both
in prose and verse, and composed for their use cer-
tain models which, notwithstanding the imperfect
mastery which he possessed of the Greek language,
have been highly extolled for fertility of thought and
invention. ^^ He also caused the works of other philo-
sophers to be read, of whom, however, only the more
recent writers are named ; it mattered not whether
they were Platonicians or Aristotelians, or others
from whom he greatly differed in opinion. Upon
these he afterwards delivered his judgment.^^
Plotinus does not seem to have been altogether free
from the mysticism which was peculiar to the age,
but still to have kept it under a sober restraint.
We do not discover any indication of his practising
the magical art, notwithstanding that he has no-
where expressed a direct condemnation of it; he
examined the claims of astrology, but declared
them to be open to objection.^' If he avowed a con-
tempt for the pursuits of politics and worldly advan-

1^ lb. 4,C, 8. " lb. 1. 1=^ lb. 5, 8.

'" lb. 8. " lb. 9.

PLOTiNus. 5:29

tages, as unworthy of a philosopher, he nevertheless
diligently looked after the property of the infants
vvho were placed under his guardianship, on the
plea that it was a duty to preserve it for them so
long as they were strangers to philosophy. ^^ Never-
theless, we find his school so full of mysticism, and
his philosophy so closely interwoven with it, that we
cannot hesitate to censure Plotinus as having shown
too great indulgence to the bias of his times which
led men to sacrifice to fanciful speculations, all the
important requisitions of actual life. Among his
disciples we find one of the name of Rogatian, vvho,
upon being nominated to the Prsetorship, refused to
accept the office, manumitted all his slaves, and aban-
doning all care of his propert}' , and refusing to reside
in his own house, depended on his friends for food
and lodging; in short, evinced the greatest possible
contempt for all earthly possessions. This person
was pronounced by Plotinus the model of philoso-
phers.^'^ Plotinus himself, with the approbation of
the Emperor Gallienus, conceived the adventurous
idea of founding a city to be called Platonopolis, and
to be constituted and governed by the laws of Plato.
In all probabilitv lie would have carried his desiirn
into execution if wiser and more prudent counsellors
of the euipcror had not successfully opposed tiicm-
selves to it.^" He declared himself ashamed of liis
body, whici) lie declared to be but a phantom, which
it is a burthen to carry about, and on this account
he refused to liave recourse to medical aid, and
practised a rigorous abstinence, eating neither flesh
nor even bn^ad.^' Of his country. Ids kindred, and

'" Jb.fi. '» lb. 4. '^ lb. IJ. ^' lb. 1,5.

IV. 2 M

530 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

the date of his birth, as of contemptible matters, he
imparted no information to his friends, although he
kept a festival on the anniversaries of the birth-days
of Plato and Aristotle. ^^ His disciples venerated
him as one who was raised far above the lot of
mortals. The magic arts which an envious scholar
of Ammonius practised against him, are said to have
redounded upon their author. When an Egyptian
priest in his presence and by his consent invoked
his demon, a god appeared. When he was invited
by Amelius to be present at a sacrifice, he replied.
The gods to whom the sacrifice is about to be made
must come to him, not he to them ; and of this enig-
matical speech his disciples ventured not to ask an
explanation. He had it in his power to denounce
unknown thieves and robbers, and to make known to
his disciples their mental dispositions and future for-
tunes. Lastly, at his death, when he had uttered his
last words, " I seek to raise the god within us, to the
divine in the universe," a serpent stole from beneath
liis bed and disappeared in the wall.^^ Must not
such a man have attained to the greatest height that
humanity can reach? Porphyry assures us that in
the six years which he spent in the society of Plo-
tinus, the latter had six times beheld and been
united to the supreme God.^*

The writings of Plotinus have apparently come
down to us complete; or nearly so, but still in a
state which gives occasion to many doubts. Plo-
tinus vvas a very careless writer, and what he had
once written, even at distant intervals, the weakness
of his eye-sight prevented him from submitting

^^ lb. I. " lb. 1, 7. " lb. 18.

PLOTINUS. 53 1

even to a single revision. Besides which, he was
so far from being a master of the hinguage in which
he wrote, that even orthographical errors are not
unfrequently to be found in his works. On this
ground he assigned to Porphyry the task of ar-
ranging them.^^ The latter has undoubtedly made
an attempt to fulfil this duty, but the result is a
very singular one. Finding these works to consist
of many special treatises, having little, if any, con-
nection with each other, he has arranged them in six
Enneads, according to the diversity of subject-mat-
ter ; he moreover corrected the external form of the
expression, and made a few additions which it is im-
possible to particularize.'"^^ This edition of the works
of Plotinus is apparently the same as that which has
reached us : however, an old note attached to it
speaks of another edition by Eustochius, also a dis-
ciple of Plotinus, who remained with him to the time
of his death, and which differed from the Porpliyrian
edition in the disposition of the several books

« lb, 4, 5.

*"■ lb. : at the end. Ta fiav ovv /3i/3\ia ti'f i? ivvfaSas rovrov tov tq6-
TTOV KariTci^afiiv, rtaaapa Ka'i irivTriKOVTa ovrn. Kara^i^XiififQa li Kai
iiQ Tiva aiiTuv virofiviijiara araKTWQ Sia tovq tnii^avrac I'lfiac tTaipovi;
ypa<ptiv, £(t,- iintp avroi Tt)v <ja<piiviiav avroiq yiv'taQai i^^'iovv. uWa
firjv Kai TU KiipdXaia avrtov navruv, ttXi'iv tov TTtpi rov KaXov, Stu to
Xtli^at rifi'iv, TnTTon'jfitOa Kara r»)v xi'"^"-'")^ Udoaiv twv ftiftXiwr •
aXX' iv Tovriii ov ra KtifiaXaia fiovov KaO' iKatJTOv iKKiirai twv f3i/iXiwi'.
dXXd Kai kirixiipr))iaTa, H o'lr KKpaXaia avvupiOfiilTcu. vvvi Si TTHpaao-
fti9a tKoarov tuiv fiiftXiuv Stipx^h^""' ^"^ '"^ "^"X^^C avTuiv wpoaOiivai
Kai tl Ti y'liinpTtiiifvov iiti Kara Xf^'V Cio()0(n'j/ Kui o Ti dv I'lfK'ii aXXo
Kivi]tTg, tnnn iTTjunit'tt To tf)yov. Are the inroitrt'inarn incorporated in
the work ? What are the KKpdXata wliich are wanting in the book on the
Beautiful ? what the iirixm>illiaTH ? I'orpliyry HptakH an if he were then
just entered upon tlie edition of the works separately. Hut when he prefixed
the life of Plotinus to the edition of his works, he was now more than GH years
old, ib.xviii. ; can he have been so long occupied with this edition ?

^ Enncad. iv. 4, 2'J. This is worthy of attention ; for according to the state-

2 M -2

532 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

Ameliiis, too, possessed the works of Plotinus and
disseminated them.^^

The style of Plotinus is very unequal. At times
the copious fulness of his diction bespeaks his inti-
mate acquaintance with the Platonic writings, but at
others we may trace in his language the effects of a
long and painful study of the Aristotelian. This is
seen not only in particular terms, but also in the
frequent harshness and abruptness of the style, in
which the writer's meaning is hinted at rather than
explained.^^ Porphyry discovered in his master's
works many ideas which had been borrowed from
the Stoical school; and we shall have occasion to
notice many points of resemblance, not only in
thought but also in terms of expression, between him
and earlier philosophers who evinced a disposition
for Oriental ideas. His waitings have been justly
taxed with obscurity, which arises not only from tlie
general tendency of his ideas, but also from his
fondness for nice and subtle distinctions, and from
the involved character of his style, which sometimes
scarcely allows us to guess his meaning or to trace
the grammatical connection of his sentences. More-
over, the heterogeneous medley of scientific ele-
ments which we meet with in Plotinus, greatly

ment of Porphyry, it would almost seem that the arrangement of the books
had been the work of Plotinus himself. Creuzer is even of opinion that the
present edition follows partly the Porphyrian and partly that of Eustochus.
Cf. Annot. in Plot. p. 79, sq.; '20"2. The grounds on which he supports this
view, do not however appear to me sufficient to establish it. The new edition, by
Creuzer, (Oxon. 1835,) affords great helps for the right interpretation of a
number of passages which were lamentably corrupt in the very incorrect Basle
edition, but still Creuzer himself owns that there are many incurable faults in
our present text.

■^ Longin. ap. Porphyr. v. Plot. xiii. xiv. xv. ^'■' V. Plot. viii.

PLOTINUS. 533

increases the difficulty of tracing the thread of
his ideas. But, nolwitlistanding, it cannot be de-
nied that all his assertions refer more or less to the
central point of his system, or rather have scarcely
any other object than to exhibit and elucidate this
centre. An idle object, alas! for this point itself is
incapable of elucidation ; and so Plotinus himself
admits. In this painful struggle to attain to the
unattainable, his writings may well be compared to
the fable of the Danaidae, which well sets forth the
nature of a fluid, by representing the water as still
eluding all efforts to confine it. However large may
be the sphere over which the efforts of Plotinus ex-
tend themselves, it ultimatelv contracts itself within
a single point. A complaint has been made of
his obscure brevity ; but this complaint is only just
when applied to single sentences : on the whole he
is far too difl'usive; from his repeated attempts to
express what is inexpressible, his works are full of
repetitions. Passages also are occasionally found
in which he abandons the immediate suljject of his
doctrine, and treats of matters which admit of being-
expressed in intelligible language. These matters
are for the most part little, if at all, in uni-
son with the general spirit of his theory, and may be
regarded as digressions from his ))roper subject, and
betray a passing remembrance of tlie old traditionary
treasures which hv. had inlierited from tiie better
times of Grecian philosophy. In such passages,
however, his style is heavy, and approaches to tlie
prolixity of old age, which for tlie most part we
meet witli in the neo-Platonic school.

A sliglit notice of the relation in which Plotinus

534 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

stood to the earlier philosophy and to the opinions
of his age, will here be necessary. Generally, he
might justly call himself a Platonist. Without
expressly naming Plato, he speaks of him as the
true philosopher, whose doctrine he has undertaken
to expound. ^° He does, it is true, occasionally meet
in Plato with ideas which he cannot approve of; but
of such he cannot admit, that Plato actuall}^ enter-
tained thern.^^ Thus, by a latitude of interpreta-
tion, he easily gets rid of all difficulties. The
doctrine which he advanced of the three supra-
sensible grounds of all existence, is not brought for-
ward as a novelty, but as contained in the Platonic
writings, although, he admits not fully developed
there :^^ and we need not wonder that he could find
this doctrine in Plato, when we discover that he had
no difficulty in imputing it to Parmenides, Anaxa-
goras, Heraclitus and Empedocles, Pythagoras and
Pherecydes. If any surprise be felt, it must be
at his admission that Aristotle was not very favour-
ably disposed to it, even though he was constrained
to adopt views essentially similar.^^ There is some-
thing herein which looks like a disposition to iden-
tify in all essential points the Platonic and the
Aristotelian systems; but, on the other hand, his
disquisitions are frequently directed expressly to
controverting the doctrine of Aristotle. This PIo-

3" Enn. iii,9, 1 in. •" VI. 6. 4, 8.

•*^ V. i. 8. Ka'i dvai tovq \6yovc rovaSs fir) Kaivovg, fii'ids vvv, aWd
TToKai fiev tipycrOai jiri dvairtTrranivutg, tovq Si vvv \6yovQ i^t]yr]Td(;
iKiivwv ytyovivai, iiaprvpioig TTiGTUffaixivdig rag doKag ravTug TraXaidg
ilvai Tolg aiiTov tov IlXdrMvog ypdfi/jaffiv. As a specimen of his arbitrary
interpretation, see iii. 5, 5.

^■^ V. 1 , <{, 9. This statement is expressed in very loose language.

PLOTINUS. 535

tinus attacks in several points, and, with one excep-
tion, all those which in his day were regarded
as the characteristic doctrines of the Peripatetic
school.^'* The excepted doctrine which he approved
of and adopted, is that of the eternity of the world.
Something of the same kind is the position which he
holds relatively to the Stoical school. Many ideas
M'hich owed their origin to this sect, but had
become part of the common stock of Grecian en-
lightennient, Plotinus unhesitatingly avails himself
of; but yet he ardently enters on the refutation of
the leading points of the Stoical philosophy, the spirit
of which was even more adverse than the Platonic
or Aristotelian system to his own view of things.
The Stoical doctrine of the sensuous elements of
human knowledge and its materialism, are treated
by him as palpable absurdities, wdiich pervert the
true nature of tilings, prefer the non-existent to the
existent, and make the last to be first.^" On the
other hand he evinces a favourable disposition to
such opinions as looked for true philosophy to Ori-
ental doctrines. In the same way that, as already
noticed he hoped to find among the Indians a pro-
founder wisdom than was else\vhere to be found ; so he
also believed that in the symbols of the Egyptian
priests, greater knowledge was liidden than was
ever set forth by tlie investigations of Grecian
science. ^^ This same direction of ideas also led
Plotinus to give an interjjretaticn of the olden my-
thology, which indeed followed Plato and the earlier

^' Instances may be found, Man. i. 4, (i, 7, lO; iii. 7, 1'.; iv. 'J, I; vi. I,.'!,

H(|.|.

'•'■' v. 1,2!!. »" V. 1!, (i.

536 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

theologers, but still had in it a strong taste of
theocracy.^' In this joart of his doctrine he takes
up the pretended Platonic doctrines of the supreme
ground of all existence, and of the stars as created
gods,^^ without, however, showing much disposition
to go very deeply into them ; for he considers all
appeals to mythology as simply auxiliary proofs for
such weaker minds as have not yet emancipated
themselves from the sensible. ^^ He refuses to concur
in the opinion, that the gods can be moved by
prayer,'^° and differed from those who, from the
supposed influence of the stars on the government
of the world, have drawn conclusions favourable to
the pretensions of astrology ,'*^ although, by reason
of the universal connection of all things, among
which, even virtue, which knows no master, must
be included, he would not deny that every mundane
event may be considered as a sign, and to have
been itself pre-signified.^^ But however in these
and similar points, Plotinus may have set himself
against the wide-spreading superstitions of his day,
in others he gave way to them, as appears from
several traits of his system/^ Not content, in
the spirit of the olden worship, with assuming the
manifestation of gods and demons, he even gives
precise determinations of the difference of their re-
spective natures. Not only does he evince a high
veneration for the mysterious, but even declares phi-
losophy not to be repugnant to the different arts of

^MII. 6,8; V. 1,4, 7,8, 1-2, 13. ^'^ V. 1, 2. '

^''^ IV. 7,15. *" IV. 4, 42. « III. 1, 5, 6; iv. 4, 30, sqq.

^2 IV. 4, 39.

" I. 6, 7; iii. 1, 3, o, 6; vi. 9, 11. The contemplation of the One, for in-
Blance, is referred to the mysteries.

PLOTINUS. 537

magic and other incantations; although he does not
approve of them in every respect, and is disposed to
assign to them only a limited power. He even be-
lieves that he can justify the belief of them by the
universal sympathy between all things in the sensible
world ; for among these, mutual love and hate
operate every where, and consequently tlie whole
practical life of man is under the power of incan-
tation.*"*

This conclusion sufficiently evinces how low he
was disposed to rate practical life ; the theoretical
possessed a far higher value in his eyes. Now, if
from this fact any one should be disposed to argue,
that with certain perversities of opinion which be-
longed to the age in which he lived, and from which
no one can whollyescape, his doctrine was in the main
of a truly philosophical import, he will have, iu the
first place, to get rid of the admissions which Plotinus
himself makes. These are to be found in his
statements of the nature of science. When we
inquire, in the first place, what province in the
eduction of human thought he assigned to sensuous
perception and presentation, we do indeed hear
something that sounds favourable to them. He
regards perception in the light of a messenger who
announces a fact which ought to be submitted to
the review of the reason. ^^ He does not look upon
it as a passive affection, but uu operation of tlie

** Thus he speaks ngainst the magic of the Gnostics, ii. '■>, 14. Magic, in liis
opinion, has no power over the liappiness of the sage or over the theoretical life.
It applies only to tlie JXoyor, not to the Xo-yedor of the soul. i. 4, f; iv. 4,
43, 44. On the other han<l,a» to its influence over praclic:il life, cf. iv. .'<, l;j; i,
26, 40, 34. Uav yap to trpuQ aWo yorjTivtrai vrr' aWov. Ut. 44.
V. .J, ...

538 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

soul ; and perception no less than memory is
not a weakness, but a strength of the soul/^
That which perceives is to a certain degree a
judging faculty, and perceptions are obscure
thoughts of the supra-sensible world, as also the
thoughts of the supra-sensible world are clear per-
ceptions;^'' a doctrine which, in reality, does not
deviate much from the Stoical. But when now we
hear him incessantly avowing his aversion for any
contact of the soul with the corporeal and with
sensuous perception, we are forced in truth to con-
clude, that without very seriously intending the
above propositions, he adopted them with the other
parts of the Platonic doctrine, in which, indeed,
they do not stand very firmly. According to
Plotinus, the soul is in a body for its punishment
solely ; it is, he says, for this end only that it is
percipient of the corporeal/^ The objects of per-
ception are external simply ; for if an internal object
should seem to be perceived, this must be internal
to the body ; but for the soul it is still external. ^^
Now, conceived in this sense perception must be
valueless, as regards the perception of truth ; since,
as we shall presently see, knowledge apprehends
nothing but what is internal and spiritual ; whereas,
the external is a mere phantom, and nothing real.^°

" IV. 6, 2, 3.

*'' IV, 3, 23 ; vi. 7, 7, fin. "Qan dvai raq aia^rjaiic ravrag dfivSp&Q
vnijrrug, rag Si tKti voi](nig tvapytig ai(j^i]Ctig.

^' IV. 3, 24. "E^oKiTai ci (sc. ui xpvxai) to aiofia Kcd rb avTiXafifBavtaBai
TMV aiDfiaTiKwv KoXdfftiov 'ixovtjiv.

''^ V. .S, 2. To [liv ovv aln^iiTiKov nvrng (sc. rrig ^pvxng) auro^ev dv
tpalfitv row i^(x) jiovov tlvaf Kcii yap ti tCjv ivSov, iv r(p awfiart yiyvo-
jiiviov avvaiaBt](ng t'ir}, dWd ruir t'^do iavro7j kuI kvTav^a >) dvri\t]-^ig.

^^ V. o, 1. To yt yiyviiJTKOfJUVOv h'' aidSiriaitoQ tov rrpdy/jiaTOQ f'IS(o\6v

PLOTINUS.

539

Those who put any trust in perception, are likened
to those who take dreams for realities; for sen-
sation is an accident of the sleeping soul ; that part
of the soul which is in the body is in sleep — its true
awakening is a perfect separation from bod}'.''^
Sensation he declares to be simply an affection and
stern necessity of the soul, resulting from the uni-
versal sympathy which prevails among mundane
things f^ by which explanation he places it under
the same idea to which he had elsewhere referred
the principle of enchantment.

Now if Plotinus already appears to have outrun
Plato in the depreciation of sensuous perception,
we shall be still more strongly convinced of this
when we proceed to consider those elements of
human thought which are connected with per-
ception. Now of this nature are our conceptions
or representations. But of these, according to
Plotinus, the soul ought to free itself on the ground
that they serve only to the apprehension of the ex-
ternal world. ^^ The very recollection of what it has
previously experienced, even of its good deeds, ought
to be furthcrremoved from thesoul the higherit raises
itself."' But moreover, according to Plotinus, lan-
guage and ratiocinative thought (Xojt'^iaOm, Xoyianog,
^lavoia) are, in the closest manner possible, connected

ian Kai ouk uvtu to TTfjay/ia i) h((t5>J(TI!; \(tf.i(iavii, /livd yd() UtTvo t^w
II, (), 1. ElSuXa yap Kai oiicaXi/^^.

'^' III. (i, 6. Koi ydp TO rri^ alaiijattoQ ^^vxnQ ^orlv ivcovaiii;- oaov
ytip Iv (TibftaTi »//"X'7Ci tovto ivoh. IV. 4, 23.

■''' IV. 5, :'.. Toi'iTii) ydp loiKt Kai Th ah^avia^ai onwaovv ilvai, on

(yvpira^iq to Kvov roSi to nav iavnji tovto ^i oi) (card (Ta)|t«r«{;

Tza^ima, aWa kutii ptilovr Kni v//»ix«K<k •»""• W""' *»"'>t lyi'inra^oi;:
HvayKaQ.

'■■' I. 4, 10; V. :',, 2. ■•' ^\.■^.^■'>■2.

540 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

with the sensuous elements of presentation, and
therefore the former fall under the same condemn-
ation as the latter. The souls in heaven have no
need of words f^ there there is neither ratiocination,
nor even the rational (koyiKov) in its human accept-
ation f^ that reason is weak which for its confirm-
ation stands in need of ratiocinative reflection. ^'^
Occasionally, it is true, certain modifications of
this condemnatory opinion do occur, as for
instance, when Plotinus adopts the Platonic view
of dialectic, that by the investigation and combi-
nation of differences it rises to the highest genus — to
unity ; and admits also that what is called a judgment
is its cognisance ; and when, again, he refuses to allow
to the supreme reason a total rejection of all dif-
ferences, and also when he even designates ratioci-
native thought as the way to true and moral en-
lightenment, since he makes the ratiocinative
thinker to stand in the same relation to the en-
lightened mind, as he who is but learning does to
him who knows. ^^ Nevertheless, all these modifi-
cations are nullified by positions which do not allow
us for a moment to mistake the degree of contempt
which Plotinus had for scientific thought ; for
how can dialetic observe distinctions and combina-
tions, if it is forbidden to make use of propositions or
judgments (Trporao-tc) ?^^ Man, he says, cannot arrive

" IV, 3, 18. 5'^ VI. 7, 9. ^^ IV. 3, 18.

^** IV. 4, 12. To ytip XoyiLitaSrai ri dX\o av t\r\ f/ to i^ieffSrai ihpiiv
<pp6vi]ffiv Kai \6yov a\?;S>) (cai rvyxavovTa vov row ovrog; o^oiog yap 6
\oyiZ,6fi(.voQ .... T(^ fiavSrdvovTi ilg yj/wcrij/. I^titeI yap fia^tiv 6 Xoyt^o-
fievog, oTTtp r/St] ix<^v (ppovifiog. Compare herewitli, i. 3, 5. ^povriaiv
fxiv Trepi to bv, vovv It Trtiil to tTreictii'a tov ovTog.

'' 1. 3, 4, 5, 8, 2.

PLOTINUS. 541

at true intelligence so long as he looks upon science
as a doctrine or a collection of propositions and judg-
ments, for this is hut science here below — the
science of this earth or world.^*^ But, for the pur-
poses of science, the syllogism is of still less avail- than
the judgment ''^ For ratiocinative thought cannot
get rid of the stain whicli cleaves to it as confining
itself either to the sensible and external, or to that
which proceeding from the mind is yet relative to the
sensible,*^^ and consequently furnishes nothing more
than an opinion, a conviction, a science of the
sensible, i. e. of types,^^ but not of truth. It ex-
hibits the temporal, but the temporal is incapable
of revealing in any degree the external ; on the
contrary, time, by its dispersion, conceals the abid-
ing essence of eternity/'^

Nevertheless, as we have already remarked,
Plotinus admitted of a science within the reach of
man upon earth, which is a knowledge not of
types but of reality, and consisting not of terms
and propositions but of union with real objects
(Trpay/iora ovra).^'^ This scieucc is the result of a
higher faculty than that of ratiocination, which
Plotinus designates as the reason or rational re-

*'' v. 8, 4. 'AW Vjitiz ei'c f^vvtrnv ovk yX^ofiiv, on icrti ruQ tTriffri'ifiac
Biu>pt'ifiaTa Kai tjvii<pv()rjtTiv I'lvofi'iKaiiiv TrporatTiajv th'ai. to ^t ovS' Iv
TcuQ Lvravia iTritTTrjuaig.

"' v. 5, 1, and in many otlier passages besides.

" V. ?>, 1,2. To S' Iv airy (sc. T{/ -^vxy) Xoyi'CoiKVOV irapd rwv it: ti'iq
ah^fiiTtwc <pavTa'7naTb)v TranciKii^h'MV Tt)v iTrU-oimv Troiov^iivov Kai
iTvvdyov icai liaipovv rj Kni tiri nov tK rov %'ov lih'Toiv l<popd olov roi'if

ri'TTOJI^.

'■^ V. 3, G. K«i yap )'/ fuv uvayKij h> i",», )'/ ck ■jth^w Iv ^vxy

Ittii Sk lvTav!^a ytyivrtnt^a, iraXiv av Kni h> 4"'X{i' ^rtiSw riva yfviffSrai
ZijTovfiiv, olov tv fiKoi't ru apxtTiiTTov ^twptiv l^iXomic. U). !•, 7.

" I. 4, 7. " V. 'J, 13.

042 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

flection (vorjmg). Under it is comprised that higher
self-knowledge which it is necessary to distinguish
from the self-knowledge of the understanding,
which latter tliinks its own thoughts ; it is the
knowledge which the reason has of its own essence,
and in which it is cognisant that itself is the trutli
and essence of man.*^^ This argument is not to be
acquired by reasoning, nor by any other interme-
diate process, which would make its objects appear
to be without the cognisant subject, but in such a
manner as to eliminate all distinction between the
knowing and the known. It is a contemplation of
truth within itself; it is not man who contemplates
the truth, but the truth contemplating itself. In no
other way can this knowledge be attained to. What
the supra-sensible truth is, he knows who sees it.^^

We have already met in Philo with this contem-
plation of truth in itself, and a similar doctrine was
taught by Numenius under the name of the union
of the soul with Reason, but Plotinus goes beyond
his predecessors. He is not content with this pure
rational thought. He talks of something still higher
than the Reason, as that from which it issues, which
he is wont to designate the One, or the First
the Good ; a desire of his soul ursfes him to attain
to this contemjjlation, compared with which rea-
soning and reason itself lose all value. It appears
to him not to be sufficient, that the reason in its con-

"' V. 3, 4.

•^^ V. 3, 3; 8; 5, 1. It is worthy of notice, that in the latter passage we have
a doK.dZeiv attributed to the voiig, as also the contemplation is here called
ai(73idv((T^ai Trapov-og. V. 3, 4. This will serve as an instance of the
looseness of the phraseology of Plotinus. On the subject of the contemplation
of the good, cf. i. 6, 7.

PLOTINUS. 543

templation of itself is perfectly identical with its coii-
tem])lated object, for he still fears lest there should
be concealed within it a motion — a distinction of the
contemplation and the contemplated, as in the in-
telligible notions which appear to be essential to the
ideal world of Plato. Man's rational thoudit is
based upon terms and definitions ; but these PIo-
tinus was indisposed to regard with Plato, as the
true foundation of a perfect enlightenment ; for such
a purpose they have too much in common with
ratiocinative thought and the sensible ; and there-
fore he advises man to have recourse rather to the
undefined and the undefinable. The soul, he ob-
serves, foolishly thinks that it possesses nothing'
and knows nothing when it arrives at that which is
without definition and without form, and such a
fear drives it to attach itself solely to the sensible.^®
But it ought to resolve to give up every notion and
every knowledge, if it would wish to reach unto the
First, for the One is an undefinable energy/'^ Men
ought to free themselves from multiplicity of ideas
which does but carr}' them to the sensible, and also
from all discourse, for that which is over all, is also
over language and even the most worthy Reason. We
run into contradictions when we attempt to predicate
aught of him ; it is only through an immediate in-
tuition and presence that that which is better than

' VI. 9, 3. 'AX\' ttrriv I'lftTv yvuxjiQ ilctmv Iwipncofi'ivi), on<^ (i' at'
fiQ avt'diov i) ip"X'') '?/> ItacwdTovtta nifuXafttiv T<i> fxi) upiCtn^ai Kn\ oinv
rvfrova'iai i'lro iroiKiXov tov tuttouvtoz, i^oXttr^dvii teai 0o/3(7r((i, fn'/
ohtkv txy <^ii> tcdfiPH It' roTf roiovroi^ kui nniih'rj Karapairn TruWdtCKj
airoTrnrroi'fKi (itto tthi'twv fitXC^'J ^v *'!.' fnT^i/ro)' i'/Kni tv iTTKiufi (•imTi(t
avmravofitvri. lb. 7, 32. 'Ap^') Sf rb (iviiciov.

"* V. 3, 13, 14. Ovci yvCtmv, ovSi v6i}(Tiv txofiiv avroii, 11). 1, I ; vi. •_',
17, s(|f|.; 0, 8 ; 9, o; a.

544 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

science can be gained, for all science is multiplicity
and not a true unity, of which alone good is a pro-
perty /° He who has once attained thereto, immedi-
ately contemns the pure cogitation which before he
loved, because he now sees that this thinking was yet
but motion/^ Thus then are thouo-ht and science re-
duced to a means, although a useful one, for the at-
tainment of the intuition of the One. Plotinus
himself advances the question, why in such a case he
should condescend to any words or doctrine concern-
ing this contemplation or subject to be contem-
plated ; but, on consideration, he declares it to be
as necessary, in order to stimulate men by words to
follow after this contemplation, and compares it to
pointing out the way to one who knows not his right
I'oad. Instruction serves only as the way and the
route, but contemplation itself is the work of him
who wishes to contemplate. Excited by such words,
man may perhaps have an apprehension of it, and
then he will see that it is ineffable, and will not even
venture to express what then happens to him. Ploti-
nus, however, promises this intuition more speedily
than Philo does. All that is i equisite is the desire
of such intuition ; for the First — the primary cause of
all things — is near to all and remote from none ; but
man must put aside whatever holds him back,
weighs him down, and suffers him not to ascend to
its height. We must lay aside all that is alien to

'" VI. 9, 4 in. rivtrai ce i] aTropia fiaXurra, oTt firiSe Kara kTriaTtjfirjv
ri iTvveaig feeivov, firiSk kutu vorjffiv, wcrirsp rd dWa vorjTa, dWd Kara
Trapovcriav iTriffTTjfiiig Kpti: Tova, k.t.X.

''^ lb. 7, 35, in. O'vtoj ce ciciKtiraL tots, we Kcii. rov vo(7v KaTaippoviiv, o
Tov dWov xpovov qdTcaZiiTO, on to votlv Kivrjaig Tig yv, avTi) di oil
KivtTa^av ^eXtt.

PLOTINUS. 545

it, and advance towards it alone and in solitude.
As soon as man becomes again exactly what he was
before parting from it, he will then be able to
contemplate the First and the Good. This, how-
ever, is not man's work, but in our reason the good
contemplates itself ; it is a matter which in the
contemplation attaches itself to the contemplated
object.'^

Now we are here arrived at the extreme limit of
mysticism,'^ in which we would not enter further
than is necessary. However we cannot avoid men-
tioning a few points connected with the mystical
view of Plotinus. Among these we must record
the fact that he himself boasts to have often enjoyed
this highly lauded contemplation of the divine, and
a perfect union with it,^^ and that he describes this
event as an enthusiasm, an inspiration of Apollo or
the Muses, an intoxication of the soul.''' In it the
soul lives no longer, but is exalted above life; it
thinks not, but is above thought ; it is no longer
soul nor reason, but has become that which it con-

" IV. 4, 2; V. 3, 3; vi. 7, IC. BXettwv li a<na \).ira (pMTOQ, Trapd rov
doVTog kKiiva Kal tovto KOfxiZofitvog, k.t.X. lb. 8, 19. Aafifiavirti) rig
ovv Ik TuJv tipTjfievujp avaKivrj^tlc irpuQ tKtivo,iice'ivo avrb Kal ^idairai Kal

avToQ ovx 0(701' SeXti ilwiiv cvvujjitvoQ oiio' av ToXurjatii Tig ISojv

in TO (vf avvijiti Xiytiv. lb. 9, 4. 'AXXa Xkyoniv koI yQCKpo^iv TrifinovTtg
iiQ avrb Kal dvaytipovTEQeK rUvXaytov iiri rijv^Eav, woTTtp odbv SuKvvvTtg
T(p Ti BtdaaaBai. /3oi»Xo^f,i''/j* n'tXP'- y^P '"''C bSov Kal rfig nopdac »/ SiSaK^g

ij £k Bea avToi) ipyov ■ijStj Toii iStXv ^ifiovXi^fiivov ol> yap Si) dirta-

Tiv ovStvbg tKtlvo, Kai irdvrojv £e, iHart irapbv yii) ivapilvai. . . . orav
ovTwg fxy> "^C *^X*''> <^''' ^^•3'fJ' dv' ai'jrov, ijdt] Svvarai idilv, u>g TTttpvKev
iKilvog ^tarbg tlvai.

" I.G, 8. 'AX^ti Tavru Trdvra dtpeivai til Kai fir/ pXirrnv, dXX' olov
fi V a avT a ov^iv dXXijv dXXd^aaOat Kal dvfyiXpai, i)i' tx*' f^iv nag,
Xpiivrat 0^ bXiyoi.

" IV. 8, l,in.

" V. 3.14; 8, 10; vi. 7,35; 9, 11.

IV. 2 N

546 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

templates, wherein is neither life nor thought/^ It is
free from every form, not only its own proper one, but
also every rational form, and all that is intelligible,
and from every other good but the First. As soon
as the soul turns from its present circumstances, the
First immediately appears to it ; nothing is between
the soul and it, and they are no longer two but one.'^''
This is not properly a contemplation, but in it man
has become a different creature.^^ Man sees him-
self become a god, or, to speak more properly, not
become, but actually being so, although only now
for the first time becoming manifest to himself as
such ; for man is never separate from God, not even
when the nature of body has drawn us to itself, but
we breathe the One, and continue to be what he per-
mits us ; he never withdraws altogether from us,
but ever continues present.^^ We have the One even
when we do not say so.^°

We are naturally surprised to find Plotinus in
these and similar harangues expatiating at large on
this contemplation of the One, although he regarded
it as a matter on which all talking was in vain,

'^ VI. 7. 35. A(6 oiiSi Kiviirai rj ipvxv Tore, on jxajS' sKtivo, ovSt rpvxi)
Toivvv, oTi jXTjSe Z,y iKtivo, aWa {nrkp to (^fjv ovSk vovg, on firiSi vo«T,
ofioiovffOai yap Stl, vosl £k oid' i«Tvo, on ovSe voti fvoelrai?) Natu-
rally enough Plotinus is not invariably faithful to this view. See vi. 9, 19.

" lb. 34. 'iSovaa Sk iv avry k^aiipvrjQ tpaviVTa, fitra^v yap ovSiv, oiiS*
tn Svo, dW ev d^<p(t). See vi. 3, 17.

^' VI. 9, 10. Tdxct St ovSe oi/ztrai Xskteov .... dX\' olov dXXoQ ysvo-
(itvog (cat ovK avTOQ. lb. 11.

" VI. 9, 9. OiiSk xwpi'e idjuv, ti Kai ■napifnnaovffa r) (Tuifiarog (piffis
irpbg avrriv rtpag i'iXKvatv, dW tv irviofiiv Kai awl^ojitQa, ov SovTOQf
lira dTToaravTOQ tKiivov, dX\' dtl xopi^yovvroq, swg uv y, OTrep sot/. .

9tdv ytvop-tvov, fidWov Se bvra, dva<pavkvTa (ava<p9kvra

is the reading of the codd.) ^kv Tort. . .

•^ V. 3, 14.

PLOTINUS. 547

since it can never be intelligibly spoken of. Con-
sistently with his own views, he ought to have con-
fined himself to exhorting men to bring about this
contemplation in themselves, as soon as they have
cast aside whatever of an alien and obstructive nature
clings to them, and returned to their previous state.
This simplification of man's nature, it was within
his power to describe, and he has repeatedly done
so;^^ but when he went beyond this, and even spoke
in positive terms of the act of contemplation and of
identification with the One, he inevitablv fell into
contradictions. Of these the following are some of
the most startling contradictions : — He speaks in one
place of the mutability of this contemplation, not-
withstanding that in another he has promised to the
soul a perfect quiescence in its identification with
the One. When the soul has attained to a vision of
the One, it still thinks that it does not even possess
the object it had been seeking, from its incapacity to
feel itself to be different from that which it thinks,
and consequently it often voluntarily descends
again to the sensible. ^^ There is then, in fact, a
singular folly of the soul in the midst of its most
perfect wisdom. Plotinus does not seem always to
regard the contemplative soul as so foolish, but he,
nevertheless, ascribes to it another kind of imper-
fection.^^ To tlie question, why the soul which has

*' I. C, 7; V. 3, 17. Uwc oiiv rovro ytvoiToj d<pi\i irdrrn. v. ft, 11'

vi. i), II. «I>wyr/ fiovov TTptif fjiovov fiovovaOai t6 Si

lawQ 7/1/ ov Otrt/ia, aWa uWof; rponoc rov idtlv, tKffrnfftf Kai uirXuxTis
Kai iiricoaic avrov Kal iipiaiQ V{i6c u^i'iv,

" V. fi, 11; vi. .0, 11.

*" VI. ;», ."'>. Krti a/Tfuvij KiiTaftaivii 7roXXaK(c. . . . «a0' iavrijv li 17
4'VX'I ofav icilp kOiXy fiorr]!', oftuioa rip avvilvai Kai 'iv ovaa, nft 'iv

2n 2

648 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

once elevated itself to contemplation does not con-
tinue therein, he can only answer, that it has, per-
haps, not fully passed from the lower regions. The
corporeal, with which it is as yet still connected,
hinders it from enjoying a steady unbroken vision,
and allows only of a hope that some time or other
it may be otherwise. But still Plotinus will not
concede that the soul can be hindered from remain-
ing with the One, To avoid such a concession, he
prefers to divide the soul.^^ The inconsistency of
these propositions must be obvious to every mind.
Undoubtedly this vision or contemplation is imper-
fect so long as it has not attained to perfect security.
In short, however laudable this aspiration of Plotinus
for the highest excellence may appear, we must still
confess that he has degraded the intuition of God,
by the attempt into which he allowed himself to be
seduced to appropriate it to man's imperfect nature.
It is necessary to notice a few more of the contra-
dictions into which in this doctrine Plotinus has
fallen, since they are of value as betraying, to a
certain point, an inclination to return to a scientific
course. In the perfect identification of the soul
with the one, tlie former cannot naturally still pre-
serve its self-consciousness, for it is now perfectly
one with the One. This he expressly asserts, when
he ascribes self-consciousness to Reason, but not to
the One, and therefore requires a perfect forgetful-

ilvai avTifi ovK o"(rai ttw (X^'v, o ?»jr«7, on tov voovfikvov fifi 'irepov

lartv

VI. 9, 10. IlaJc ovv ov n'lvu «/c£i ; r} on /ii;7rw k%t\r]\v9tv oXtDg;
lorai Sk ore Kai to avvtxic tarai Trig Osag ovKeTi ivox'^ovfiivi^ ovSsfiiav
h'6x\Tiinv TOV ffwfiarog. ioTi de to twpaKOf ov to kvox^ovfitvov aWd
TO dXXo,

PLOTINUS. 549

ness of self in order to the contemplation of Unity.
But notwithstanding" this, he advances an opinion,
that he who knows himself, will know where he is ;
and that he who knows God, must also be aware
what God lends to things, and therefore must also
be cognisant of himself, since he too is one of the
things to whom God vouchsafes his gifts.^'^ These
views evince a tendency to the Platonic doctrine,
that the Good may be studied in the multiplicity of
ideas and in the Reason, and that the knowledge of
it must comprise the knowledge of Reason and of the
ideas. But the same tendency is still more strongly
revealed in other positions which Plotinus takes up.
The vision of soul, he thinks, penetrates through
Reason to the Good ; for though Reason veils the
Good, it is not like a body which no rays can pierce
through, ^'^ and since now the Reason is not such a
simple unity as the One is, he was constrained to
admit that either in or through the plurality of the
rational world it is possible to see God.^^ This ad-
mission most assui'edly ill accords with the view, that
God cannot be rightly apprehended otherwise than
by a complete identification with his indistinguish-
able entity, and it must therefore be regarded solely
as a concession to that scientific view of things from

"' v. -i, 7; C, 5; vi. 9, 7. 'Ayvorjffavra Si Kui avrbv iv ry Of(f iKtivov

yivf(tOfii b ci. tiiaOwv avTov iIci}<jh'k(iI onoOtv. In the union of the

soul with the vovq, tlie former retsiins itH self-consciousness, iv. 4, 2. liij; ti vovv
IXQovaa iipfio<TTai kcu aiyfioaOtlaa Tivioraif ovk airoWv/iivti, AW tv
ItTiv ufiij)0) Kai CvO' ovTWC ovv i\ov<ja ovk dv fiiTafidWoi, nW Ixot dv
&rpinT<t)Q TTpoQ V(')i}(nv, ufiov i\oi)(7a n)v avvaiaOt]niv avrTi^.

"" IV. 4, 4. 'VjKU fiiv ovv ray/iOuv Sui vtiii bfiif, oli ydf) ffriytrai iKtlvo,
iiffTt jii) SuXOtlv eif uiniiv, lird hi) awfin to ftiTaKv iitari iijnrolH^nv.

"^ v. U, 1. 'V.TTHCiif <ll<HllV TOV IV Oi-ff TIIV VIIIJTIW KoTiiuv ytytvi))i'tvov
Kai TO TOV uXOtiivov KaTuv<ir](jnvTa iCf/XAof, tovtov Cvvi/rrKjOdi Kai'rbv
TovTOV iraripa K(ii rbv liriKuva vov tii; tvvoiav (iaXtoOai, k. t. \.

550 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

which the doctrine of Plotinus in its direct tendency
diverged.

The latter tendency is most decidedly apparent,
when we examine the connection which subsisted be-
tween hisdoctrineof the contemplation of theOne, and
that of the supreme grounds of all things. Plotinus
found already in existence a doctrine formed by his
forerunners in the same philosophical direction,
which established the necessity of distinguishing
three grounds of all entity. We find this doctrine
suggested by Philo, and in another form embraced
by Plutarch, and distinctly advanced by Numenius.
Plotinus also adopted this view; but the mode in
which he has determined the several notions of these
three principles appears to be original, ^^ The distinc-
tion between the soul and reason as two different
essences, and the subordination of the former to the
latter, had been long acknowledged. But it could not
remain long concealed that the notion of reason, in
its ordinar}'^ acceptation, possesses too much of a sen-
sible character to serve for the supreme idea of a
philosophy which aspired beyond everything like
sensuous objectivity of thought to a perfectly mysti-
cal intuition. A tendency of this kind may be
traced in Philo's description of the existent as that
which is absolutely without properties, and of which
in a proper sense nothing can be predicated. But
still Philo did not expressly oppose himself to giving
it the name of Reason, although he would not
allow even the notions of Unity, or the One, of even

*" We do not mean to say that he was the first who advanced this doctrine,
for we have already met with it in Appuleius, and it would appear that it
belonged to the school of Ammonius, because no opposition was anywhere made
to it. Plotinus did but bring it forward in a more definite shape.

PLOTINUS. 551

of the Good, to be ascribed in a strict sense to the
supreme God. And the same tendency is seen in
the system of Plotinus, even though here it assumes
a wholly different tone. He indeed places the soul
among the supreme triad of principles, and sub-
ordinates it to Reason ; but with him Reason is
not the supreme principle of all, but there is one
higher than it, which lie calls at one time the First
or the Prime Essence, at another the One, and at
another the Good ; he also calls it that which is
above the existent, for existence is by Plotinus
reduced to an accessory idea of the Reason, and
together with the latter, it forms the second degree
in the system of three supreme ideas. ^^

There are some striking points to be noticed in
this system of principles. If Plotinus assigned the
existent to Reason, why, it might be asked, did he
not regard them as two principles, and assume con-
sequently four instead of three ? The only answer
that can be given to this question is, that the two
in fact indicated to his mind but one and the same
thing — the Reason and the really existent, or that
wbich is cognisable by reason, supra-sensible ; that
which thinks, the Reason, and that which is thought,
the sui)ra-sensible — the really existent, are in pure
and perfect tliought indistinguisliably combined.
For the distinction wiiich subsists in the sensible

'^ V. 1, 10, in. To liTf.KUva tjvroc to 'iv i(Tti Sf''. ^'.Knt: ri) iiv

Kai vovQ. rpiTTi li rj riig i/zi'X'lc ^I'xriQ- !• 7, 1; f!, 2; II.!), 1. Ov reivvv
Sii i(p' tr'ntaz apx"C iivai, dXXd toTito (sc. to A.yaOov) irpoari}oafi'ivovQ,
lira vovv fiiT aiiro Kai to voni>v Trf>ioTtoc, dm \pv\iiv fit: a votr ■ avri}
yap rd^if Kurd fvatv, ht]ti irXdw tovtoip riUiaOui Iv rip vorfiip, fir]Tt
IXaTTUt. u ri yap iXdrru) i; xl/vxV'" *"' vouv TaiiTo <pTiaov(Tiv, f/ vovv
Kfii rci vpwrov, aW on 'iripu AWrfKoiv, llti\9tf TroWa^^.

552 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

between the representation and the object, there is
no corresponding difference in pure thought between
the thinking subject and the object thought of, but
Reason is an object to itself. ^° We might, perhaps,
be disposed to imagine that Plotinus meant to assert
that the difference lay only in the way of conceiving
it, and that the existent was only called Reason, so
far as it thinks, as Reason also is called the existent
so far as it is thought of. But in truth he appears
to have been prevented from yielding unqualified
assent to this view by another consideration, which
we shall hereafter have to notice. At present we
shall only remark, on the other hand, that the view
which would assign the supra-sensible wholly to the
second degree, was somewhat unsuited to his pur-
pose, since he elsewhere speaks of all the three
supreme principles as supra-sensible, or cognisable
by tlie reason. ^^ It is clear that we have not to ex-
pect from Plotinus a very rigorous exposition of his
doctrine.

But we must now examine into the grounds
which induced him to deny the first place to Reason,
and the purely supra-sensible in that which he
nevertheless designates as the supra-sensible. Here,
again, we find his doctrine dependent on the Pla-
tonic system, which had exalted the Good above

V . Z, 4. O fitv ovv vovQ, Kara to votiv v<pi(jrag, to ov, to c« ov t<jj voti-

ffOai Ttp v(f) SiSbv TO voiiv Kai to tivai lifia fiiv yap tKiiva, Kai av-

VTrd^Xti Kai ovk aTroXeiTrei dXXrfXa^ dXXd Svo bvTa tovto to ev ofiov vovc
Kai ov Kai voovv Kai voovfitvov, 6 fiiv vovg Kara to voilv, to Ss ov kutu
TO voovjiivov. lb. iv. 2. "EoTt fiiv ovv Kai avTog voi]t6v, dXXd Kai vowv.

vovc Srj Kai ov tuvtov • ov yd^ Twv Trpayndriov 6 vovq, Hatri^

T) a'iaQriaiQ tCjv alaQr]TS)v irpoovTuv, dXX' avTog vovq tu rrpdyfiaTa.

"^ II. y, 1. M/jrs nXtiw tovtwv TiOtcrOai tv T(p voi}T(jj, ^t)t( iXaTTW.
See above.

PLOTINUS. 553

existence, and truth above science and reason. But,
in fact, Plotinus has rather made use of, than
adhered to, the Platonic doctrine : for Plato's object
was merely to establish the union of science and
existence in one first-cause, notwithstanding that in
the becoming', wherein they are apprehended by
man, they exhibit themselves apart from each other.^^
But herein Plato sought for nothing more than the
combination of the two into a real and perfect unity,
such as Plotinus has in truth posited in the second
of his three supra-sensible principles. ^^ This appa-
rent agreement of doctrine, though involving an
actual difference of views, has only involved Ploti-
tinus in greater confusion ; which, as previously re-
marked, has prevented him from adhering steadily
to the doctrine alreadily developed of the relation
between Reason and real existence. To these per-
j)lexities belong the proofs which he seeks to give,
that man must not be content with Reason, but must
seek something higher than it, on the ground that
Reason cannot be looked upon as a pure unity, but
tliat duality, if not plurality, must of necessity be
attributed lo it; for in these proofs he is constantly
confounding- tiie rutiocinative reason with the reason
in pure thought, wiiich, as we have already seen, he
made to be identical with the really existent, and
then siippoits liis view by the well-known Platonic

'^ S. Th. ii. 325, s(i.

^ v. 3, 5, T>/v ufia aXiiOnav ovx irtpnv Itl ilvai, iW o Xfy", roDro
Kai (Ivai, 'iv dfia ovtm vovq ku'i to votirov Kal ro ov • Ka'i irf)u)Tov ov
TOVTo Kai Sr) Kai TrpStroQ vovq to. ovra 1%'^^, fiaWov Si 6 aiiTOQ toIq

oviTiv li ovv kvi(>yiia (sc. <"» vov<^) Kai »'/ oitcria uvtov ivii)yiia,

tv Kai TdiiTuv ry Ivipytiq: ijLv drj, 'iv Si ry li'f(iyti(f, to ov Kai to vot^tov,
'ir (ifia rravra ioTat, voiic, voyfftf, to voiitov. ••). C<; m. 2, 1; v. .*, .5.

554 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

grounds of a necessity for acknowledging a higher
power than that of inquisitive thought.®* He as-
serts, if reason thinks of God, it still does not become
God, no more than it becomes motion by thinking
of it. Nay, more, he even maintains, in direct oppo-
sition to his previous doctrine of the unity of the
thinking subject and the object thought of, that the
object must exist antecedently to the subject f^ and
his ground for this assertion is, that reason in its
cogitation is multiple ; for if it did not posit its think-
ing as distinct from its entity, it would not think,
but be merely one.®^ After a view so false, and so
directly conflicting with his own conclusions, we
might have supposed that Plotinus would not have
had much difficulty in proving that this reason is not
the highest ; for it was easy enough for him to sub-
ject it to the many imperfections which cleave to the
idea of a thought in the process of development:
nevertheless his proofs are very unsatisfactory, since
he has made but very little use of this surreptitious
advantage. In general he merely appeals to the
impossibility of man's remaining content with such
a composite entity as reason appears to be ; for
whatever contains in itself multiplicity, is in want
of something — in want, in short, of the elements of

^* V. 3, 10. ■'Hi yap ivtpytl (sc. 6 vovs)^ dWo Kal dXXo StT

Toivvv TO voovv tTtpovKai 'irepov Xajitiv Kai to voovfisvov, KaTavoovfiivov
{kuGu voovfxtvov ?) ov, iroiKiXov tlvai, r] ovk iffTai vorjaig avTov, dXXd

OiKig Kctl olov i-nafprj jxovov Kai yap av TToOog Tig Kal rj yvwaig tort

Ka'i olov lr)Tr)<}avT0Q tvpimg. lb. 6 1 ; 2; vi. 7, 37. Kat r^ t? uXXov SiSofitv
ovilv Kul olov CrjTtiv avTov ti)v ovaiav Kal auTO Kal to 7roir](Tav aiiTO. .

" lb. V. 9, 7.

^^ VI. 2, 6. 'H Si Otwpia ai-^ia tov favfivai avTO noXXd, 'Iva voijffy
idv yap 'iv ^avy, ovk ivorjatv, dXX' iariv r)^r) i,Ktivo.

PLOTINUS. 555

which it is compounded,^^ according to which view
the One alone can be regarded as without want,
and sufficient for reason. This argument we must
look upon as his chief proof; for though he is not
sparing of others, they are of less force. Of these,
we shall adduce one which preserved a permanent
authority in the neo-Platonic school ; and this was
that we must prefer the One to all other things, since
each, individually, only exists by its being one :^^ —
a mode of reasoning which evidently admits of being
applied in like manner to the existent. And here
the general remark is necessary, that as Plotinus
sought to jjlace a perfect entity at the head of all
things, he could scarcely omit to posit it as a
unity, but that still he would not thereby be de-
terred from assuming also its multiplicity, since he
must have seen tliat in the rational, multiplicity
does not, as in the corporeal, exclude perfection. ^^

Now as we find his proofs of the necessity of as-
suming a something higher than the Reason so
very weak, we cannot abstain from the conjecture
which we have already advanced, that the notion,
which Plotinus entertained of Reason, was still
too sensuous, too little mystical to be placed at
the head of his system. And in this opinion we
are fiirtlier confirmed by propositions which we
meet with iu his disquisitions, all of which tend to
get rid of whatever might a])pear to be prcdicable
of the liighest and the first. For as wo may not
conceive of the First as reason, we must natinally

^ VI. f), G. Tluv Ci TToXv Kiti iif) 'iv tvvifi;. V. i, 1. T" yt i") <tn\ovv
Tuv Iv nvTifi arrXwv itvfjLtvoVf 'Iv y i^ iKtivMV.
" VI. .0, I. »« VI. 5, 10.

556 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

not ascribe to it either rational thought or an in-
telligence either of itself or other things. Still
Plotinus would not allow, that ignorance must be
attributed to it, on the ground that ignorance is
only possible in the case where one does not
know another. But, as the One is always to-
gether with itself, it has no need of self-thought,
and yet we must not ascribe to it even this co-ex-
istence with itself, as this w^ould imply a plurality
in it.^^'^ So anxiously does he labour to establish
and maintain the absolute unity of the One. If
therefore he nevertheless numbers the One among^ the
objects of pure intellectual cognition, he still does not
forget to add the qualifying remark, that this is not
to be understood in the proper sense of the word,
but merely in a relation to the Reason. ^^^ And as
thought is denied to the One, so also must .volition,
inasmuch as being in want of nothing, it cannot
have a desire/"^ It is not an energy, but more
than an energy ; life belongs to it. No entity,
no quiddity, no essence, and none of the genera
or most general categories of entity can be at-
tributed to it.^°^ Moreover, Plotinus abounds in
formulas, which by advancing opposite determina-

19" VI. 9, 6. OvSt v6t]ffig, 'ivajxrj tTtportjQ, ovSi Kivtjfftg, wpo yap kivti-
aetoc Kal vor^atwQ ' ri yap vorjcnt kavrov ; , , . ov to'ivvv, on fi?) yivihaKfi,
ovSt voti tavTov, dyvoia Trtpi avrbv larai • ») yap ayvoia iTipov ovTog
yivlTca orav Qaripov ayvoy Oaripov. to Si fiovov ovTt ri yivwoKU, ovTt
Ti «Y£t o dyvoti. 'iv £e bv trvvuv avT-fj* ov Selrai vofiasioQ eavrov. ETrti
ovSi TO avvelvai Sel irpoaaTrrtiv, 'iva Trjpijg to ev. dXXci kui to votlv Kal
TO ffvvifvcii ((Tvvtlvai'A CKpaiptlv kuI tavTov vorjcnv Kal tCjv dWwv.

1°^ V. C 2. "O TTpoe /i£v Tov vovv voi)Tov tcTTaiy Ka9' tavTo de ovn
voovv ovre vorfTov Kvpiiog tarai.

1"^ VI. 9, 6.

'"' V. 3,12; vi. 2. 3;9; lOj 8, 18; 9,3.

PLOTINUS. 557

tions of the One, abolish every affirmative attribute.
The One, he says, is not all things, since otherwise
it could not be the origin of them ; and yet it may
be regarded as all, since it is everywhere ; and
because it is also in no particular spot, it is
even on that account, not all/°^. It is, and it is not
the existent ; neither moving nor yet at rest ;
neither freedom nor necessity belongs to it.^°^ Now
if by such statements Plotinus closely approximates
to the views of Philo, it must be observed, that in the
same manner as the latter he considers it allowable,
although the first is inefiable, nevertheless to speak
of it in terms which properly are not applicable
to it.^°^ It is therefore only a few particular attri-
butes which Plotinus carefully avoids attributing to
the One, simply because he proposes to ascribe them
exclusively to another of his principles ; such, for
instance, as thought^^^ and life ; whereas he is not so
scrupulous about ascribing others to it. Thus,
with a little hesitation, he ascribes to it volition, ^°^
and has still less difficulty in giving it an en-
ergy and calling it the work of its own energy
(tvovpyTifia)',^^^ and being once in this direction, he
finds little obstacle in ascribing love even to the
One — love of itself, and finds it beautiful, and
and even amiable to say, that it it has been pro-

*»* III. n, 8; J), 3.

"» V, 2. 1; vi. n, S; f); !), 3.

"* VI. 8, 8. 'Acvva^iq. rov Tvxtlv rStv d irQaaijicti Kiyiiv irepi avrov,
ravra av Trtpi avrov ilnoifiiv. Kairoi ovSiv av tvpoifuv itiriiv ovx ori
Kar airov, dW ovii nipi avrov Kvpiwc, navra yap tKtivov Kai rd icaXd
Kai rd atuvd varfQa. lb. 13.

'"^ Therefore he merely says, vi. 8, 18. Tbv olov iv tvi vovv ov vovv
ovra.

»«* VI. 8. 13; 21. >°* VI. 8, IC; 10.

558 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

duced, not indeed in compliance with another's will,
but its own.^^° As, then, Plotinus allows himself
to speak in this way figuratively rather than truly of
the supreme principle, we find it extremely difficult
to determine the limits of his real and his figurative
expressions. On the one hand, if he wished to
maintain the position that this principle is inex-
pressible and inconceivable, we ought, therefore,
to look upon every thing he advances regarding it
as figurative. But, on the other hand, when we
observe that he attempts to establish by proofs, and
consequently by a scientific method, many of the
statements thus advanced, or at least deduces in-
ferences from these positions, we cannot form any
other conclusion than that he really held them to
be something more than merely figurative. Three
determinations of this kind in particular, fall under
question, because in his many scientific applications
he most frequently recurs to them, that, viz., the
supreme God is good, and the first or the principle
{apxh), and especially the One. Now, in relation to
these three notions, we distinctly see that he wavered
between the two directions already noticed, and con-
sequently it will not be uninteresting to examine his
statements with regard to them.

In the first place, with respect to the notion of
good, he is with Plato greatly disposed to posit
nothing above it, and to see in it an expression of the
highest. But it must cause some surprise to find
him unwilling to concede that the first principle is
the Good, from fear lest the Good should be predi-
cated of it, and thereby an entity ascribed to it,

"" VI. 8, 15 in. On the other hand, vi. 7, 42.

PLOTINUS. 559

and as if it, the that, would be spoken of as a some-
thing besides it — as the Good. Therefore he forbids
it to say or to think, ' I am good,' on the plea that
sa3dng or thinking is alien to it, and because it does
not first become good by thinking. Nevertheless
these doubts arise from the imperfection of human
language and thought, and he therefore concedes to
the supreme principle, in a certain manner however
which admits not of being expressed in words, both
to possess good and to be called so.^^^ Much more
startling is it to find that Plotinus will not concede
to the supreme God to be beautiful, ^^^ when we con-
sider the intimate connection, which, in the ancient
mind, subsisted between the beautiful and the good,
and that he himself in other passages identifies the
two."^ But he still more openly evinces the ten-
dency of his own ideas, when he reminds us that the
idea of good cannot well be entertained without a
reference to something else, and in his wish to clear
the idea of God from all relativity, insists that it is
wrong perhaps to ascribe to the One even a good
will, and tliat perhaps it is not good for itself but
only for other things. Then he asserts, without
further words, that the One is above the Good, and
it is a mere euphemism, when he adds the remark,
that in a different sense from all else, the first also
may be called the Good,""* for he is naturally unable
to say in what sense.

'" VI. 7, 38. »» lb. 42. "» I. C, fi.

VI. 9, G. "Qiyrt ti^ ivl ov£iv ayaOup iariv, ovdi ftovXijnt^ roivvv
oi)Stv6c. tiXX' lartv viripayadov Kai avro ovx lavTif}, to'iq di JXXotf

iyaOov, t'l rt avrov Cvvarat fitraXaftfiavtiv ov roivvv ovSi

iyaOov XiKreov rovro, 3 7rnptx"> aXXti aXXojc rriyaOov vnt() ru aWa
ayaOa. We will remark, a» affording a cliaracteristic singularity of the empty
subtleties from^whicli Plotinus is far from free, that he seeks at great length to

560 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

It is impossible to avoid confessing, that hereby
we have lost again whatever of the Platonic theory
of the supreme ground of things Plotinus seemed to
have appropriated; while, on the other side, all the
most positive determinations of his own theory
vanish at once. His distinction of the One from
the multiple, and from all things, rested on the
view, that this One must be the prime and origi-
nal principle. Still he could not fail to perceive
that such a determination ^was liable to many objec-
tions. It is true he was able to appeal to the im-
possibility of precise language in these matters,
when he conquered himself so far as to call God, in
virtue of this notion of the prime essence, the most
powerful and the first power, which, like all other
things, could not endure to remain by itself, but
created other out of itself ;^^^ but must it not have
occurred to him that such unprecise terms are not
allowable in science, especially as on other occasions,
he insisted that the energy must exist before the
faculty, and that consequently the faculty cannot be
regarded as the First ? He does indeed bear this in
mind in other places, but then he finds the notion
of the prime substance to be too intimately connected
with that of faculty for the former not to be in-
volved in the loss of the latter. He now says, God
is the prime substance or origin of all that is beauti-
ful and praiseworthy, but still in another sense he is

prove that good is not such, Kara rvxnv. VI. 8, 14, sqq. Our readers may
well be spared this and other depths of his philosophy, since we have enough
of it already in what is involved in the general course of his doctrine.

^^* V. 4, 1. Ei r'iXtov iari to TzpwTov Kui Truprojv rtXewTUTOv Kai

SvvauiQ rj TTpuiTrj, SiT TrdvTwv twv ovrwv Swarwrarov ilvai

TToJg ovv TO TiXtwraTov Kai to TrpihTov ayaQov iv avT<p aTair], (ocnrt^
<pOov)j(rav tavrov f; dSvvaTi)(Tav, i] wdvrojv ^vvafiii;; Truig S' dv in dpxt)
tl?];

PLOTINUS. 561

not the orio-in of it;^^^ and how he would have the
latter understood, is left for the present unexplained;
but accounted for in another place, unless, indeed, we
may otherwise explain it by interpreting the origin
of all things by the supreme cause. For Plotinus
ver\^ distinctly remarks, that we predicate nothing
of that which happens to God, when we call him
the First Cause, but rather something that applies
to men because we receive gifts from him, while
he remains within himself.^^^ In this position,
a<rain, we recog-nise the same constant endeavour
to conceive of God, purely and absolutely, without
any reference to aught else, as is evidently con-
tained in all such expressions as — the One Cause,
the One Prime Essence, and we may add — the
One First.

But what shall we ultimately say, when Plotinus
even bids us dismiss, as soon as we have attained
to it, the very notion b}^ a sense of whose necessity
he thought to lead man to the conception of the
supreme principles ? Similarly to Philo, who found
God to be simpler even than unity, Plotinus declares,
that to that to wliich no name is suitable, the name
of One is only more appropriate than any other name,
if it must be named at all.^^^ Such a conclusion was

"' VI. 8, 8. Tlavra ydp Uiivov koI rd Ka\d Kal rd atfivd vffrtpa-
rovruv yoQ avrbr apx"?? Ka'noi aWov tqoitov ouk apxV'

"' VI, 9, 3. 'EttiI Kai to a'lnov Xiytiv ov Karjjyopflv iari avfilSt^ijKog
Ti avTi^, dW I'lfi'tv, 07-1 ixon'iv Tt Trap' avTov, Utivov ovrof iv aiiTifj.
In the following quotation the readings of the MSS. are very tiuctuating and
iinintelligibic, but yet come very near to what alone I consider the correct one,
I propose to read, ^f I Si firili to Uiivov, n^li to ovtoq \iyeiv UKpifiwt:
\iyovra.

"* v. 4, 1. "Ev, K(i9' ov xptvco^ Kai to 'Iv iJvai, on /(i/ Aoyoc, fittSi
iTTiaTrjiii]. VI. 0, 5. To 'iv, 'd (n) ov tariv^ 'iva fir/ Kai ivTaLGn kot' dWov

IV. 2 o

562 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

the natural result of a doctrine, which insisted that
there can be neither discourse nor science of the
First. Such a doctrine would not heed the little con-
tradiction, that man still is ever talking of it ; that
it is suggested by ideas such as those of the First and
the One, whose necessity alone is a scientific gua-
rantee of their realit}^ Man, says Plotinus, must
content himself with admitting that he does but
speak and think of that which is around God, and
which is attached to him, without, however, in-
dicating him himself;^^^ and this, although it is
impossible to know what is round about God, unless
we have some knowledge of himself; nay, although
Plotinus himself allows it is absolutely impossible
to assert what is round about him.^^° In short, it
is in the very nature of mysticism to destroy the
edifice which it has itself built up, since it holds its
secret too dear to reveal it in any degree in words.
But we must yet make a further remark in order
to exhibit the reverse side also of his negation of
oneness to the One ; and that is, that Plotinus who,
at times, declares in the most express manner
possible, that all multiplicity is alien to the One,
still does not always forbid us to conceive of God
as multiple, but teaches that in the supra-sensible
all is multiple, since it possesses an infinite

rb iv, <{} (codd. al. Jiv) 6vo[ia filv Kctr' aXriOeiav ovSiv TrnocrJKOV, t'nrep
Si ^fi ovof-iaaai, koivmq av Xs^^^j/, TrpoffrjKovTixig 'iv, oiix <^£ aWo, lira
t'v, x"^*"''''' fJ'iv yi'OjaOiivai Cid TOvro, k, t. \.

^^^ VI. 7,42, 'AttoOov ravra, d vofii^eiQ aijivd tivai iv roig SiVTspoig,
Kal lir]Ti rd Sivrepa TrpoariOfi riji TrpujT({), /J.i)rs to. rplra roir; iivTipoig,
aWd Td Stvrepa Trtpi to Trpuirov ri9si Kai rd rpira Trepl to SivTipov.
nvroi yap avrd iKaffra iaaetg, wg tX£t, KCtl rd vaTtpa i%apTr]<ttigiKiivb)v,
a»C iKtiva TrentQiovra, i/p' tavTuiv ovra,

i** vr. 8, 8.

PLOTINUS. 563

potentiality. ^^^ This constitutes one of the most
important points -wherein Plotinus differed not
only from Plato, but also from almost the whole of
Grecian antiquity as soon as it had attained to a
clearer consciousness of its own pursuits ; for he
has ascribed to the idea of infinity, which even
Philo feared to adopt, all that is best, and will not
allow that God has in himself liis limits, his mea-
sure, and his determination, because, he argues, that
then he would become liable to duality. ^^^ This
may be regarded as a valuable accession to philoso-
phical thought, although, indeed, it does not present
itself in Plotinus in a very precise form, but
pretty nearly in the same loose way as he argues,
that because God is everywhere therefore every-
where is also God.

We should, perhaps, be justified in asserting, that
all these mystical features in the doctrine of Ploti-
nus arose from his not regarding the first principle
simply as such, i. e. in relation to that of which it
is the ground, but rather absolutely in itself.^^^
This was not the case with the ancient philosophers,
if we except those who sought to represent the First
as also the last and as tlie only one of its kind, but
not as a principle ; and, indeed, such an attempt could
not have been made before men began to apprehend
the notion of the First not as a notion, i. e. as a

III. 7, 4. Ei S' Ik noWaiv Xiyofiiv uvrov, ou ctl Oavjtai^tiv- ttoWo
yap tKaoTov twv Iki'i ltd Cvvafiiv utthqov.

V . .), 1 1 , Kai TO unitpov tovto fii) ttMov ivoq tivai, fitjcx <X"*' ^poc
o opitl Ti Tuiv iavTov. Tip yap ?v ilvai ov fitfitrpt]Tai, ovS' tl^ ApiOfiiiv
Tjicn. ovT ovv Trpbg aWo, ovri Trpof ouro imriparat, Itti'i ovtuq civ iiij
Kai £vo. vi. 5, 11; G, IH; 9, G.
'" VI. 5, 4.

2 O 2

564 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

creation of thought, but derived it from another
source, and then sought to combine with it the
scientific pursuit of the ultimate grounds of thought
and existence. With such a period we have had to
do ever since we met with the mixture of religious
belief with philosophical science. We must not
mistake the true import of such a period. Its object
was to effect a peace between religion and philo-
sophy, not indeed by giving, after the manner of the
Platonists and Stoics, a philosophical interpretation
to the forms of religious worship, but by adopting
into itself the impulses of a religious craving after
union with God. Vvlth this longing Plotinus is fully
possessed. That he should have attempted to connect
his philosophy with it demands, no doubt, our appro-
bation ; still we must confess that he did not take
the best way to accomplish this task by describing
the object of religious longing as inaccessible to
every notion ; nay more, by candidly admitting that
it must be understood as something wholly irrelative
to man and all other things.

His inability, not to say indisposition, to carry out
this pure abstraction is most clearly seen, when he
applies himself to the task of explaining the deri-
vation of all things from the First. He is here
compelled to conceive his First, relatively to the
Second, as creative. ^^^ His description of the pro-
cess by which the Second arises out of the First,
and the Third out of the Second, adopts more or
less of those images of the theory of emanation,
which we have previously become acquainted with.
He is indeed rich in images, wherewith to render

12* VI. 9, 3.

PLOTINUS. 565

conceivable this inconceivable problem, hew the
Second can be produced out of the First without
the First being in any way affected by it, or having
anj'^ influence upon it. Whatever is, produces its
inferior ; fire, for example, warmth, and snow cold.
Must not then the Good do the same, if it be not
envious or devoid of equal power with other things?
Its superfluity has flowed away and made another,
and so it still remains full as it was before. ^^^ The
First projects all substance out of itself.^^° The one
is, as it were, a stream, which wells forth streams,
without being itself changed or weakened ; it is a
seed or root, which suffers all to proceed out of itself
but still remains what it ever has been ; wliat pro-
ceeds from it is, as it were, a radiation of the light.^^^
By such comparisons of the First with lower
objects, which Plotinus in other passages absolutely
rejects, he believed it possible to reconcile the un-
changeable rest of the Good with the necessity of
of its becoming the principle of other. The neces-
sity which man discovers of assuming some such
process of the First, Plotinus transfers to the First
itself, even though he would still make this neces-
sity to be itself a freedom. The prime energy,

*** V. 2, 1, Olov vTripi()f)vt] Kai rii vnipTrXripeQ avrov irtTTOirjKtv aWo.
This image is frequently used by later writers.

^"^ VI. 8. VJ.

>" A few passages will-suffice. I. 1, 8 ; G, 7; 8 ; iii. 3, 7; 8, 9 ; iv. 8, .3—
6 ; V. 1, G; 4, 1 ; 2; vi. <J, 5. The image of light in particular is often em-
ployed, as it is generally current in theories of emanation ; hence tK\afi>pic
and tWdfixpii;. This image is in a certain degree sulmtilutcd for that of reason,
and pretends seriously to the same place with the suprascnsihle. Thus of the
sun we are told, that it would be imperceptible if it were pure light, and if
there were nothing of corporeal solidity in it. In short, the images are con-
founded with the substance. Of. iv. 3, 17 ; v. 5, 7 ; vi. 7, 41, 8 ; 18.

566 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

he says, exhibits itself as it ought to.^^^ Not one
alone ought to be, for then would all remain
hidden. ^^^

When now, in the doctrine of Plotinus, we pass
from the mystical heights of the First to the Second
— the Keason, we still find sufficient m.ystery in his
description of it. This character of mystery neces-
sarily passed over from the First to the Second, as
the latter was dependent on the former. Plotinus
attempts to determine the idea of it with respect
both to the First and the higher, and also to the
lower. We propose to begin with the former rela-
tion. As opposed to the First it naturally appears
imperfect ; thus we discover in Plotinus also the
general principle of tlie theory of emanation, accord-
ing to which the First must not be sought in the
Second ;^^° that is to say, every efflux of the higher
must be inferior to that from which it emanates.
Now if the First is to be sought in simplicity and
unity, the created must naturally be held to be less
simple than the creative ;^^^ and Reason, as a crea-
tion of the One, cannot be so perfectly one as its
original ; it must rather partake of duality and mul-
tiplicity, notwithstanding that it may be rightly said
of it, that it eschews plurality more than the soul
does which is under it, and therefore is further re-
moved from unity.^^- This mode of view leads, in
the next place, to a distinction of degree between

^^* VI, 8, 18. 'Evfpy£i« Trpwrt], tovto iavrrjv fK^fivaffa, cnrtp tSei.
^*^ IV, 8, 6 in, EiTTEp ovu Stl /u) 'iv fxovov ilvai, skskovitto yap av
iravra, K.r.X.

^^° III. 2, 7. Mryo' Iv ToiQ dsvTspoig ^riTiiv ru Trpiora.

^^' III. 8,8, Tov yap yevvTjSrkvTog iravraxov ro ytvvu>v airXovUrepov.

"^ V. 6, 1.

PLOTINUS. 567

the One and Reason, to wliich several expressions of
Plotinus have reference. Reason is a type, a resem-
blance of the First, exhibiting in itself much of it»
but still not perfectly like to it, nor altogether con-
taining the same perfection. As the First is good, so
Reason, to use a Platonic term, is of a good kind.^^^
But here Plotinus must have found himself in a diffi-
culty. The First is not Reason, how then can the
latter possess any resemblance to the former ? He
does not solve this difficulty, but merely seeks to
avoid it by attempting to show, that the Second must
necessarily become Reason, although the First is not
of such a nature. His explanation is this : the Second,
in tlie return to the First, saw the First, and this
seeing is Reason. ^^^ A singular doctrine, in truth !
All that which constitutes the essence of Reason must
be alien to the First, and yet a resemblance is sup-
posed to hold between the two ; nay more, the Reason,
if it do but perfectly maintain its own purit}^ can
perfectly exhibit and wholly contain within itself
the First ! Here the two leading parts of the mys-
ticism of Plotinus are in collision — the irrationality
of the First, and the supra-sensible contemplation
of the Reason. And tliis doctrine becomes yet
more obscure as other ideas are introduced into it,
intended to exhibit the objects of the Reason, which,
without exception, arc denied of the One ; so that
from this point of view also there cannot be any

»" VI. 7, 20; 21.

"' V. 1,7. EiKova Sk Uiivov Xtyo^tv thmi t'ov vovv. 6ii yt\n rxn<p'Kr
Ttpov \'tynv. irpmrov fxiv, on Sti ttwc i^fai tKi'ivo to yivvwynvov Kal
dnornji'Ctiv iroWu avrov Kctl dvai ijwiuTriTa Trpoc uvto, utairif) kcu rb
<pwC Tou iiXiov. aXX' ou vovq tictii'O, TrJJf ovv I'ovi/ ytvv^; »} on ry liri-
arQOfpy irpbc avrb iwpa; r) ct opaaic avrtj voDf. \ I. .'', 2.

568 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

resemblance between the One and Reason. Among
these ideas there was, as we have already seen, that
of the existent, viz. the supra-sensible, which indi-
cates what is most general in the objective. But
to this idea that of life attaches itself; since ac-
cording to Plotinus, it is necessary to ascribe life to
the existent, on the ground that otherwise it would
be something dead.'^^ From this the ideas of
energy and substance follow. As to the relation of
these several ideas to one another, Plotinus has not
expressed himself with any precision. He appears
to make the idea of energy equivalent with that of
life, and to attribute life to Reason agreeably to the
Aristotelian dogma, that the energy must be ante-
cedent to the potentiality. ^^^ But substance and
life are so associated by Plotinus, that we cannot fail
to recognise in them the two aspects of existence —
permanent entity and becoming. Agreeably here-
with he considers motion as necessary to life, devi-
ating therein importantly from the Aristotelian
doctrine, and considers substance and motion to be
inseparably united in Reason. ^'^^ But here again
we meet with the mystical combination of contra-
rieties which are found no less in the idea of Reason
than in that of the One. Thus in the Reason the
energy is identical with the potentiality. The
Reason cannot be conceived of as being in inactivit}^,
nor yet in motion, it is in a stable energy ; it is
stable and yet moves, for it is always about God,

^^^ VI, 9, 2. 'E;(€i Ei Kai Z(ti))v Kai vovu to ov, ov yap Sfi viKQov.
^^« V. 9, 4.

^^' VI. 2, 7. This refers to the so-called Platonic categories, which Plotinus
in a most singular and inappropriate way applies to the intelligible world.

PLOTINUS.

569

and has always thought in and by itself— it is ever
striving and ever attaining ; it has all things in
itself, an indistinct and yet distinct multiplicity.^^^
Now when we find that Plotinus ascribes a potenti-
ality to Reason, and remember that with Aristotle
the potential is matter, we shall not be surprised if
Reason be made to contain in itself a something
material. Indeed, this is nothing but consistent
with Plotinus' view, in so far as the Reason, as
being less simple than the One, contains in itself
a multiplicity of species or ideas which are re-
garded somewliat in the light of human notions.
By this means his idea of the Reason approaches to
the sensible. For in the same way that every notion
combines the general with the special, so the idea
of Reason, in its distinction from all other tilings,
possesses a form, and in its universality a matter. In
all which again Plotinus adopts the Aristotelian doc-
trine, from which he borrows indeed the expression
of a supra-sensible matter, but yet, in truth, employs
it in quite a different sense from that in which Aris-
totle used it. For, in support of his position, he
appeals also to the view that tlie supm-sensible
world is a type of the sensible, and that therefore it
must also contain matter.^^^ Perhaps it is hardly

'3* II. 2, 3, fin. ii. 9, 1 ; iii. 2, 2; 0, 10. 'Ev jxiv ry ri,o v t>£ffie, ^at l<pik-
fiivoQ aii Kal atl Tvyxaftiiv. V. 3, C; vi, 9, 5. vvv i'lffvxoy Kai urpifirj
ictvrjiTtv (par'tov, Travra Lv avr^ Kctl izavra ovra ttXi'i^oc dSiUKpiTOP Kai
av (iaKiKi>ifnvov.

"' U. 4, 4. El ovv TToXXci ra nci), KOiriiv fi'iv re ir avTo'ig uvdyKT] thai
Kai li) eai \ciov, <y Ciatpipti uWo aXXov. rovro cij rb 'iCiov Kai /; cia<ftopd
»/ x<^P'^ov<ra Tf o'lKtia iari nopipr]. li ci /xop0>/, tan Koi ro^op^or/atvov, JTfpJ
o 7) Ctatpopu, tUTiv dpa K(ii iXrj, ti/v iioprptji' Clxoiuvrj' Kai dii to vkoki'i-
fjivov in t'l Kocfios votjToQ ianv Utl, jxifirjita ci ovtoq Uiivov, ovtoq Ik
avv^iTog Kai IK vXriC, kokiT lii vXtjv iliat. lb. 5, 6 ; iii. 8, 8 j 10.

570 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

worth the while to observe upon the little agree-
ment of this borrowed doctrine with the course of
thought which Plotinus generally follows. For
how could he consistently explain matter to be the
general in a doctrine whose main object was the
attainment of the most general ? How could he
regard this generality of Reason as the prototype of
sensible matter? The impropriety of tins com-
parison will be more fully seen hereafter, when we
shall have become acquainted with his doctrine of
matter. But, however this may be, Plotinus derives
from the multiplicity of the ideas of the Reason
the multiplicity of the Reason itself; and, on the
other hand, its unity from its union with the One.
The Reason looks upon the Good and the First,
and is present to it; but it also looks upon itself,
and is manifold and all.^'^'^ According to this de-
scription, we must observe, a true and complete
union of Reason with the One, such as Plotinus
supposed to take place in contemplation, is impos-
sible. For Reason is only such, so far as existing
for itself it looks towards the One ; it is around
the One only, as it were a permanent circle around
the Good ;^*^ it is near, it is true to the One, but
still dares to a certain degree to recede from it.^^^

But now Reason as the Second turns itself to the
third which is the Soul. It is self-evident that the

uo yj r)^ 2. Kai X9') ''°'^ vovv roiovrov ri^tcrBai olov Trapeivai /itv T(p
ayaS^ip icai T<f Trptori^ Kai /SXetteiv t'lQ Ikuvov, avvtivai /cat tavr<p, vottv
re Kci'i tavTov Kai votiv tavrbv uvra to. TravTci.

^''^ II. 2, 3 fin. '0 t£ vovQ o'vTui Kivtirai, torij/cf yap /cat Kivtlrai, vepi
aiiTov yap. IV. 4, 16.

^^* VI. !), 5. "Ev p.iv ilvai fiovKofi'erov, ovk uvroi; ci tv, tvosiCovg Ss, on
avTip prjci iffKiSacrrai 6 vovq, dWd avviariv tav-(p iJvTixig, oii SiapTi'jffag
iavTov Tip 7rX{]ciov /icTa to 'iv livai, aTTOtTTrivai de ttuq tov ivbg To\iii}aag.

PLOTINUS. 571

Soul is to be understood as an emanation from the
Reason, "which happens through a necessity of the
second nature, without the latter being in any way
active therein. Out of the Reason proceeds Thought
(Xoyoc), witliout any change however of the former,
since the latter exists in it originally.^" Such a
thought the soul is conceived to be; but it is not
precisely determined what particular thought, or
whether it is one in any wise different from others,
or whether it comprises all within itself. The latter
view seems most consistent with the general theory
of Plotinus, notwithstanding that his expression
scarcely seems to convey such an idea. The ema-
nation of this thought from the Reason is compared
with the procession of the Word out of the thoughts
of the Soul.^^* Yet this Thought or Notion, which is
the Soul, contains in itself all kinds of entity, in
order to be able to fashion them into the sensible
world. ^^^ And here we must remark, that to the
Soul and Reason are ascribed a definiteness and
precise limitation by the form in all the particular
ideas which tliey comprise, for, he says, the
form limits the infinite potentiality of the One.^''^
The same naturally holds good of the really cx-

»" 111,2,2.

"* V. 1, ."?, G. 'H ^vxv Xoyoc vov. It mu&l not be overlooked that Plo-
tinus again makes good play with the ambiguity of the term, \6yos. Cf. in
particular, iii. n, 1, Xoyof is emiiloycd as equivak'iit with voik:, or willi a parti-
cular idea of the vovq, ii. 4, ?,; V. 7. u. elsewhere. Hut then again Xoyoc is also
called an emanation of the vovc, and the voi^c is called 7roiijr/}c rov nptirov
\6yov and not Xoyoc. V- "> "•

"^ V. 9, 9 ; VI. 7, 12; 111. G, 10. 'II n'tv yi 4'*'X'I ''" ^'^*' u»""wv

t'lSi] ixovaa, tZcoc ovtra (cat avri}, ofiov travTa »x'£'- '^''^ ^'^^ °^ '^®

vouc- I- '> ^•

"• V. 1, 7. KaJ opi'^fi TO dvai avT(^ ry rrap' Uiivov Swa/iti

uipKirai yup ijct) icai olov ftopipriv iKaoTOV tx**-

572 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

istent — which is the object of the Reason. But
while this is regarded as the prototype of the sen-
sible world, and as that on which all things depend
and from which they proceed, it possesses also an
infinite but all-limiting potentiality. ^^'^ And in
this respect also, motion or at least quasi-motion is
ascribed to Reason and the existent, in order that
it may make itself multiple, and attempt, as it
were, to see itself as such.^^^ It is clear that the
design of these ideas is to furnish a transition from
Reason to the Soul and the multiplicity of things,
and we might easily adduce many others of a like
nature, did we not prefer to pass them over in
silence, as they do not move out of the range of
those images with which, in the exposition of the
emanation of the Reason out of the One, we have
already become acquainted.

It is more important to discover the motive which
led Plotinus to distinguish the Soul from Reason;
that is to say, the pure Soul — the mundane Soul
which is not united to any body soever. Now
apart from all traditionary doctrines, which might
have led him to make this distinction, his own
endeavour to exhibit in absolute purity, the notion
of Reason and the supra-sensible, would naturally
lead him to it in the same way that a desire to ap-
prehend the idea of God in its purity had led him
to distino'uish between God and Reason. For such
an attempt did not allow him to make Reason

'*^ III. 8, 9. in. Ti Si) ov ; cvvajxiq twv ■irdi'TOJv. VI. 4, 4.

"^ VI. 2, 6. Kai 'iv fikv uv, noiovv ce tavrb tv ry olcv Ktvfjaei voX-
Xa Kal oXov €V, olov Sk ^eix}piTv i7ri%£ipoiiv tavrb TroXXd, wffTTfp yap ovk
dvk)^erai kavTOv to ov iv dvaif Trdvra dvvdfitvoVj oaa tanv.

PLOTINUS. 573

alone to be the prime cause of the sensible world,
and necessarily led to the assumption of another
principle of it. It is true indeed that his approxi-
mation to Plato has caused him in spite of himself,
to call Reason the form of the world ;^^^ still,
in adopting it, he has modified the doctrine;
for, according to PJotinus, the Soul was filled
with Reason, and thereby became the mother of
the world which the Soul impregnated by the idea
of the supra-sensible, would as it were in par-
turition produce as a theorem. ^^° It is therefore
said, that eternity is around Reason, but time around
the Soul ;^''^ that motion,'properly speaking, belongs
to the Soul only, and that the Soul is the moving,
but Reason the stationar}^ circle around the
One ;^^^ and even virtue which has to do solely
with sensible life, is assigned to the Soul as its lo-
cality and not to Reason/^^ And it is part of the
same circle of ideas, when Plotinus insists on
the idea of providence, being so understood as to
imply the principle, that all in the world proceeds
from Reason. ^^^ For Reason, he argues, is not out-
wardly active. It belongs to it to think only itself,
i. c. the supra-sensible world, and its contemplation

"' V. 1, 8.

^^ III. 8, 4. 'AXXct TTtpt fiiv tpuatwQ ilirovrtQ ov rpoirov ^twpia r)
yiviatC, inl Tt)v ipvx^v rqv jrpo ravrric iX^dvrtc X«yo/x«v, wf »7 ravrriQ
^lupia Kai TO 0(Xo/iaJ<c Kai to Z'tTtiTiKoif (cat // IK oiiv tyvuKti wSii Kai
TO TrXrjptQ TTinviifKiv avTi)v Smitpijjia ■ko.v ytvofx'tvt)v dWo ^iwpt}fia noi-
ijaai.

'" IV. 4, 15,

'^'^ 11.9,1. Kivr)(Tig Si Trp6j: avTov OiC rov i/oDi/) ^icai iripi 'avriiv
\pvxiiQ i]li) Ipyov. IV. 4, 16.

'=••' I. 2, 3, 6.

'^ HI. 2, I ; VI. 7i 30. 'JI oi Trpovma dpKtl iv T<fi aiiTuv (sc. rov
vovv\ ilvai, nap' oil id iruvTa. VI. ti, 17.

574 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

passes not out of itself, it is therefore remote from
every thing practicah^^^

Proceding from this view of the Plotinian theory
we must regard it as the peculiar attribute of the Soul,
that it forms the world, takes an outward direction,
and thereby becomes practical. On this account also
the sovereignty of the world is claimed for it, and
motion also in a more proper sense than that in which
it is assigned to the Reason ; it directs its utmost po-
tentiality to the outward world, which it adorns
and disposes with an inactive faculty. ^^^ On this ac-
count it is described as standing on the utmost
verge of the supra-sensible world, to which it still
belongs as a thought of Reason, but nevertheless
as a neighbour of the world and bordering closely
upon it. Of necessity it must take part in the
sensible, and is not discontented at not belonging
completely to the better nature, simple because it
has received none other than an intermediate posi-
tion among things.^^'^ Nevertheless, this participa-
tion in the sensible and corporeal is not to be
compared with that of the individual soul in its
body; for inasmuch as it rules over all that is
corporeal, it cannot feel any want ; it has therefore
no part either in pleasure or in pain ; no sensuous

"* v. 3, 6. Oil yap Sr) TrpaKTtKog Tt ovrog (sc. 6 vovq\ cjc vpoQ to
(K(o (jXiirovTi r<^ vpaKTiKi^ Kai [irj iv uvt(^ fiei'ovri tlr] av twv fxkv t^o)
rtg yvujffiQ,

^^' IV. 8, 2. Avva^iv Si ti]v sctxutijv dg to iiffw (sctov ovpavov
Trffnrovar)Q, aTrpay^iovi Ivvafiti toce to ttup Koafiovaa.

^^' IV. 8, 7. AiTTfjg £e ipuffEmg tuvtijq ovcrrjg, Tijg fiev vojjr^e, Tijg St
alcrSrr]Tiig, afitivov fxev ^vxy i-v Tif voriTtp tlvai, dvayKr] yi fn)v ixii Kai
Tov aia^TjTov fitTa\afi(3dvtiv ToiavTj]v (pi'oiv ixov(yy Kai ovk ayavaKTij-
reov ahrriv eavry, ti fit) Travra tori to KpnrTov fMifftjv to^iv tv rolg
oiKTiv iTTKTxovaai'f Stiac fiiv fioipag ovaav, tv ItrxnTq) de rov votjrov
ovaav, wf ojMopov ovaav Ty ala^T}Ty ipvau.

PLOTINUS.

575

perception is to be ascribed to it, in the same way
that a total freedom from every sensual affection is
assio-ned bv Plato to the blessed stars. Therefore
it is idle to object to God that he has associated the
Soul with evil, for on the contrary, it enjoys a per-
fectlv happy life.^^^ AYe must admit however, that
the descriptions which Plotinus gives us of the
nature of the Soul are as unsatisfactory as his ac-
count of Reason. They indicate two aspects of the
soul, which are irreconcileable with each other,
since, on the one hand, it is made to belong to the
supra-sensible world, and, on the other, to occupy
itself with the sensible. This, however, would
perhaps be tolerable, but that each of the two sides
are alike absolutelv ascribed to the Soul. At one
time we are told, the Soul is free from all evil,
imperturbable in itself, thorouglily impassible. ^^^
But then at another we are told, that the certainty
of Reason cannot with perfect certainty (iriaTig) be
ascribed to the soul which has nothing more than
a persuasion. ^^° Reason accrues to it extrinsically
only.^^^ Hereby it appears to be withdrawn alto-
gether from Reason, and on this account it is said
of man, when he begins to live in the supra-sen-
sible, that then the soul possesses rest, and allows
activity to tlie Reason alone, but yet is not itself active
in cognition. '^^ In such descriptions we see nothing

'•-« IV. «, 2. "'^ 11.9,7.

***" V. 3, G. Kai ydp 17 fitv dvayKtj iv vij}, r; It TTtj^w iv ^uxy-

"'■' V. 6, 4. "^vxn ^iiv yap iTraicrov vovu t'x*'-

"' V. 3, 6. Kai ydp Ka'i i'wc Vfjitv avu), iv vou tjivan r/pKovni^a Kai
Ivoovufv Kai tic tv —avra uvvaynvric iwpMfjiiv, voT'C ydp t)v 6 vowv Kai
TTipi avrov Xeywv, 17 Si >f/vxi) tfavxiav TJyi, (rvyx*^povca ry ivipyrjuari
rov vov, (f.r.X.

576 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

but an attempt of Plotinus to think of the Soul as
belonging to the supra-sensible world, absolutely in
and by itself; while on the other hand, he saw the
necessity of bringing it in connexion with Reason
as its superior, and also with the sensible world as
its work and emanation. Still we must regard it
as more agreeable with the natural tendency of his
system, to consider, as he elsewhere does, the Soul
to be an emanation of Reason, which undoubtedly
has a share in the pre-eminence of Reason and in
thought, but is, nevertheless, less perfect ^than its
principle, and consequently subject to limitations,
and to occasional contact with the material. For,
as we shall have presently occasion to show, these
expressions are equivalent.

Herewith, moreover, may other expressions of
Plotinus accord very well. Thus the Soul has
for its work cogitation, but not cogitation alone, for
it is not distinguished from Reason, but so far as it
has further a peculiar operation of its own, by
which, like everything else that is supra-sensible,
it allows something inferior to emanate from itself.^^^
Two things accrue to it from this ; it partly directs
itself to praxis and partly to theory ; to the latter,
by seeking to arrive at rest and certainty of the
soul, wherein, although it is undoubtedly less calm
than reason, yet nevertheless participating in its
tranquillity. As praxis, on the other hand, it applies
itself to the external and thereby forms the world ;
but still this activity is subject to theory since good is

*^^ IV. 0, 3. ^vx^lQ ^« ipyov TTJs XoyiKWTtpas votlv n'lv, oh to votlv
Sk fiovov. ri yup av Kot voi) 5ia(pipot ; TrpoaXa^ovira yap ti^ votpd tivat
Kal dWo, (cnS'o Tr)v oiKtlai' iax^v vnoaraaiv, voii^ ovk t/uu'fr, £X*' ^*
tpyov Kai auTi), iiTTtp irav, o idv y twv votjtwv.

PLOTINUS. 577

the only object that it seeks by its operations, and it
contemplates its work so soon as it has accomplished
it, and thereupon finds good in itself.^^^ Thus has
the Soul a twofold relation, looking on the one hand
to its superior, the Reason, and on the other, to its
inferior, the body.^^^ The souls and the mundane
Soul no less are amphibious, taking themselves at
one time to the sensible, and, once involved there-
with, participating in all its destinies, but at another
seeking to cling to and to be united with their ori-
ginal, which is Reason.^^^ Plotinus gives a somewhat
grosser description of this double aspect of the
Soul, when, after distinguishing its different parts,
he says of the better, that it stretches beyond the
heaven, but transports into heaven itself its highest
powers i^*"^ or when, under a somewhat different
form, on the hypothesis that the soul divides itself
into many individual souls, he proceeds to advance
the position that some of these, and the worse indeed,
enter into the corporeal, while others are designed
to remain within the supra-sensible.'*^® It is appa-
rently but a slight deviation of view, when Plotinus
ascribes to the soul a triple direction also; one
towards that which is ])rior to itself in which it thinks
and recognises, a second by which it maintains itself,
and a third towards that which is after itself, which
is disposed and governed by it.'^^ This addition of

HI. 8, .5. "Ivaix<'^(Ji to tK riiQ npd^iing aya^ov. rovro Si nov ] iv

^"xy-

IV. 8, B. Tlaffa yap t/ztit^^ tx" '"' *"• '""i' i^tu) -rrpoQ rrCina Kai tov
avo Trpof roiiv,

'"• IV. 9.4. »«7 IV.8,2; 8 ; V. 1, lo.

'" IV. 8. 3.

IV. 8,3. nXiirni'ira !f npoQ ftiv to irpu iavrTir vntl, ii'f ci »(ii'ri/»»,
«T('u<« lavTTfV, ti'c it TO ftiT fiiTij)', o KoiTfttI Tt Kai rioiifM Ka'i up\n avTOv:

IV. 2 i>

578 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

a third direction merely distinguishes the proper
entity of the Soul, from its opposite relations to-
wards the higher and the lower, for Plotinus will
not allow that the peculiar characteristic of the
Soul consists in its operations on the sensible.^'^"

The Soul closes the supra-sensible Triad of the
supreme principles. It is the end of the supra-
sensible emanations. This agrees with the view of
Plotinus so far forth as the Soul creates the sensible
world, and has it for a copy of itself; and, while the
sensible world emanates from it, the series of ema-
nations is closed."^ For the object of the theory of
emanations w^as essentially confined to finding a
passage from the highest, or God, to the lowest,
which is a mere image of real entity, i.e. to the sensi-
ble world. By due consequence of this view, we
must consider the sensible world, with all that is in it,
and therefore sensible matter also, as the image
and efflux of the Soul, filled with the idea of the
supra-sensible world ; and that thereby we are
arrived at that which is the last. According to this
view, then, the closing of the supra-sensible ema-
nations with the Soul does not appear arbitrary ;
but, on the contrary, inasmuch as the Soul now
passes outwards, it must necessarily posit the last ;
especially as, according to the doctrine of Plotinus,
intrinsic entity alone possesses a reality, while all
that is external falls to the sphere of empty delusion.

''"*" I. 1,9. "Osa ck ov StTrat rrwuaroQ t'lQ kvipytiav, ruv-a iSia ypvxVQ
t'ipai.

'"■ III. 7, 10. O'iiTio cfi Km ahrri Koufiov TTotovaa ciiaBrjTov, fii/xijaii
tKiivov Kivoifievoi', Kivi)(nj' ov Tt]v iKti, ofioiap it ry tKtl Kal iBtXuuirav
(tKova tKtirtjs tli^ai, npioTou yiv iavryv ixpovwfffv, avTi rov auoi-of
Tol<TOv noiijjiioa.

PLOTINUS. 579^

Therefore, the sensible matter appeared to Plotinus
to be the immediate emanation of the soul. For
this matter is the Last, which must of necessity
exist in the same wa}^ as the First, and a something
after the First necessarily exists. As there is measure,
so must there be unmeasure ; as good must be
posited, so also must evil, which stands in direct
opposition to good.^^^ As the limit of existence,
this matter cannot be considered as existent, but as
the non-existent it is completely opposite to good —
it is evil and hatefulness — evil, the principle, or
rather the indication of all privation and evil in
the sensible world. ^'^ Thus conceived, the theory
of Plotinus is nothing less than a pure expression
of idealism, which labours to represent whatever is
external, which is not intellectual or rational, as a
mere semblance of truth, and considers the mate-
rial world as nothing but the creation of the illusions
to which the soul is subject by reason of its natural
limitation.

However, we do not find that Plotinus was able
to carry out this view with due rigour of conse-r

'" I. 8, 1 ; 3; 7. 'E^ dvdyKr]c S( dvai t6 fitra rb irpuiTov, wart Kai
TO tnx<iTOV. rovTO (t i) v\t], fiTjcif in. t^ovva avrov' Kal aiiTtj t) di'dyic?}

rOV KUKOV.

'" Cf. in particular, i. 8, 5; ill. 6, 7, where it is deprived even of the Svvafiic,
which, however, is employed hy Plotinus in a widely different sense from that
in wliich it is taken hy Arihtotle. We have, in the following, a rcfL-runce to the
Sfjphist of Plato: M;) o*/ o' uf tlKorwQ XiyoiTO, Kai ovx wmrtp icivij/Tif: fit)
ov, f) nrdijiQ fit) 6v, dW d\t]itv(oc jiii ov. Cf. i. 8, 3. It is notliing but
n -niyviov, and all that are in it arc ira'iyvia. It is perfect inanity; but
ri.'iturally it was impossible to adhere to this view of it, and therefore it was
regarded as also the cause of semblance (ib. ].'">), or as merely //»/ nv Kard
tTVfiftiftrjKoc, although it is posited as fiovov uWo or fiovov dWa. II. 4, 1 ;j.
So too in also called the last tifof (v. It, 7), which perhaps is to be elucidated
by oiny tit>oQ ri roT' fit} ovrog ov. I. 8, 3.

2 p 2

580 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

quence. There was an obstacle to this in the very
view which, in common with all his contemporaries,
he entertained of the emanations from God.

Agreeably to the principle that each emanation
must be less perfect than its principle, and there-
fore that the further the emanation proceeds the
greater imperfection does it give rise to,^^* there
must properly be a limitation even in the Reason,
and still more so in the Soul, and consequently a
something material : a consequence, however, which
does not consist very well with the doctrine that both
these principles belong exclusively to the supra-
sensible world. But the distinction of degree
between the more and the less perfect, which, ac-
cording to this theory, is to be assumed between
the principle and its emanation, did not admit of
any fixed determination of the series of emanations,
and least of all of such an abrupt close as is formed
by the passage of the Soul into matter, since the
distinction of degree goes on decreasing ad wjinitum.
And this consideration serves to explain why Ploti-
Bus has nowhere expressed himself in a precise and
invariable manner on the subject of the Soul's
emanation. We see, however, that he was forced
further to admit certain intermediate grades between
Soul and matter. At times he seems to consider
individual souls to be emanations of the mundane
Soul,^^° in the same way that individual thoughts
are represented to be processes from the Reason.

17* IV. 7. 9.

"* IV. 8, 3. noWac iSu Kal -i^v^a-g koi n'lnv tlvai, Kai Ik Trjt; fiiac
rdi; TToWag dia<p6povg. Cf. vi. 7, 6. Hence the individual soul is regarded as
nil t'i^<ti\ov of the mundane souK

PLOTINUS. 581

At others, he approximates to the Stoical view, and
teaches that from the Soul sensation emanates into
animals, and nature into plants,^^^ and <^enerally
views nature as an efflux of the Soul, wliich itself
also is a soul, as a thought (Xoyo?) which itself
creates thought; with this limitation, however, that
nature, as the copy of tlie practical Reason (^povrjo-tc),
does indeed form and fashion matter, but unconsci-
ousl3',and without a knowledge of what it is doing ;^"
a doctrine which resembles, in some degree, the
Aristotelian S3'steni. But on these points he is
neither original nor unwavering in his opinions.
Generally, indeed, he adheres to the principle, that
the universal Soul must contain in itself the most
manifold and special kinds and grades of existence,
which subsequently appear isolated in the sensible
world, in the same manner as in the supra-sensible,
unity and actuality arc present in the whole. ^'®
According to Plotinus, one of the higher grades of
life is expressed in the revolution of the heavens,
which imitates the movement of the Soul around
Reason ; but as the souls descend lower and lower
from heaven, and become more and more mixed
with what is terrestrial, the less power have they
to raise themselves aaain to the higher. And thus
arises what is one of the lowest grades of the Soul's
activity in the world — the irrational life of the
brute.^'^'

In a certain sense, indeed, this view of Plotinus*
touching a variety of grades in (he emanations of
the soul, is reconcilable with his idealistic tendency.

'" V. 2. 1. '" III.fi, 4; iv. 4, 13.

"• IV, 8,3; V. f). 13; vi. 7,9. "' II. 2, 1; 2; iv. 3, 15; vi. 9, 8,

582 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

According to him, all that is in the world is life
and soul, nay even thought and reason, since it is a
theorem which the soul, impregnated with the
spirit, has in its birth-pangs produced. In support
of this he appeals to the beautiful forms and order
of all things, which could only be produced by the
Soul.^^° The Soul shaped to itself its body, by
emitting out of itself as it were much light ; where-
upon, at the extreme limits of fire, darkness came
forth, which the Soul, as soon as it caught a glance
of it, immediately reduced into form and shape. ^®*
According to this view, all matter is fashioned from
within by the Soul ; all the elements are filled with
its vitalit3^ This earth resembles the trunk of a
tree which has in itself a vitalizing nature ; the
stones are like lopped-off branches ; although in the
elements life is not always apparent, still it is
actually present within them.^^^ Plotinus adopts
the Platonic dogma, Avhich discovered in the stars
and the earth a divine life and reason. ^^^ And ac-
cordingly, the sensible world, both in its parts and
the whole, appeared to him endued with life and
soul; or rather all that is essential in it is simply
soul. Plotinus, therefore, exults in the beauty of
this image, this formation of the mundane Soul.
Is, he asks, any more beautiful fire conceivable than
this ? any more beautiful earth ? or more perfect
sphere than that of heaven ? It is true, that evil exists
in the world, strife and enmity among all things ;

180 £Y_ j^ 2. EtTTfp \6yog irpocnX^ilii' ry v\y aiofxa ttouX, ovSafioBev d'
av 7rpf)(7fX3oi \6yoQ r) vapa ^p^XVQ VI. 7, 11. For details, v. 7; v. 9, 6 ;
12; 14.

'»: IV. 3, 9. '" VI, 7, 11. *" IV. 4, 22; 26,

PLOTINUS. 583

but this evil is necessary and indispensable, simply
because this world is but an image of the supra-
sensible, and therefore inferior, and consequently
not so complete a unity. For things must come into
opposition with each other, in that, as being imperfect,
and yet as proceeding from the All-perfect, they
must tend again towards the latter, they conse-
quently seek to acquire a higher degree of per-
fection than they actually possess. Nevertheless,
all this discord is reduced into the most beau-
tiful harmony, which combines the necessary and the
good ; it is only when a part is considered alone in
itself that it appears to be defective, but in its co-
ordination with the whole everything is good.^^*
The very evil tliat is in the world is subservient to
good ; it is uscfnl as an example ; by the experience
of evil it stimulates man to a clearer cognition of
good, since human nature is too weak to know evil
antecedently to its experience of it. The greatest
excellence that human power can attain to is tiie pro-
motion of the beautiful by a right use of evil, since it
is impos-;iblc to get rid of it altogether, inasmuch as
it consists in nothing else than that defect of good
which in tlie sensible world is inevitable. ^^^ Such
are the general propositions by which Plotinus
attempts to prove tliat the world is good and
rational, and a worthy work of, and, therefore, per-
vaded throughout by, the Soul. Occasionally he

'** II. 9. 1; iii. 2. 3; 4.

"^ I. fi, 1 ; iii. 2, 5. Tovro U Ivvdixiojc A"y»<Tri;c koXwc fc' role maKolc

^pijff^ai CuvaT^ai oXwi; ci to kokov t\\ii\ptv rov aya^nii ^(Tiuv,

IV. (}, 7. rvioTiQ yap lvapyitTT((ta rayn^ov ij rov kukov iriipn, tn^ ij
luvafiic ua^ti'taTipa, f) wan tjr»(rrij/xy to kukov irpo mipnc yvCivai.

584 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

also enters into physical investigations of a more
special nature ; but without arriving at any avail-
able or general result, and apparently seduced by
the opportunities they afforded for display, rather
than duly led to them by the necessary course of his
inquiries.^^^ We cannot acquit him of that fault
which usually attaches to the idealistic philo-
sophy — a contempt of all that is special and indi-
vidual. The corporeal, the soul that gives form
to body, sensation, the desires and aversions, are, he
says, but so many worthless trifles.

But in the statements of Plotinus with respect to
the sensible world, two opposite directions of thought
may be traced. On the one hand, he views it as
a creation of the Soul ; and as on this account he
wished to ascribe to it also a supra-sensible truth, in
its operations and activity, he bursts out into the most
lofty encomiums of its beauty, and the wisdom
manifest in the mutual coherence of its parts.
But on the other, while, without reserve, he follows
the opinion that truth is to be found nowhere but in
the supra-sensible, while the sensible, on the con-
trary, in so far as it does not participate in the
former, is notliino; but a delusive imao;e of the
truth, a phantom and a vanity; he takes the
lowest possible view of the sensible world, both in
the whole and separately in its parts. The first
direction of his ideas betrays itself in his agreement
with Aristotle in conceiving the sensible world to be
eternal. All, he says, that was in the supra-sensible
world could not continue therein for ever, since every
force must of necessity emit from out of itself a

i«« v. 3, 9.

PLOTINUS. 585

lower force ; the will of God, which is eternal,
decreed that the world should have a body from and
to all eternity. ^^^ According to this view, then, even
the temporal participates in eternity, and has its
ground in the everlasting will of God. In the same
spirit moreover he refuses to consider the creative
activity of the mundane Soul as a passivity or a ten-
dency towards the sensible. But, he says, it creates
the world in its recollection of the supra-sensible
ideas, and consequently it is, while it dwells upon
these and has their beauty before its eyes, that it
forms the sensible so beautifully in all respects, that
on this account no regret can possibly arise. ^^^ In the
descent of the Soul, which is called its incorporation,
all that takes place is, that the Soul gives a something
to the body without liowever on that account becom-
ing a part of it.^*^^ And we must not be startled, if
after all this we meet with the proposition, that the
Soul does not wholly but only partially descend, and
being partially mixed with body, participates in its
passivity ;^'^° for the true meaning of this proposition
simply amounts to this, that the Soul, as active in the
body, is in a certain degree divided into parts, not-
withstanding that it is still ever a whole, since it is a
property of its nature to be perfectly whole and a
unity.^^^ Occasionally, indeed, when Plotinus re-

'" II. 1, l.stiq.; iii. 2,1; iv. n, 4, fin.; G.

'■" 11.9,4. 'II/ieTf If ov vivaiv (pajjiiv rt]v iroiovaav, dXXd fiaWov ftt^
vtvaiv. tl di ivtvat, n^ t;ri\«Xi;<T0ai 0/j\ov('>r« ruiv iKii. li Si iirtXa-
OtTo, TTwc ctjitiovoyn ; nt'iOiv yd() ttoiiI, »; il^ (Lv il^iv iKil ; li li Uii'
vmv ^iftvrjfiivrf ttouI, o'vci oXwq Ivivutv.

"" VI. 4, 16. "Qart to fiir KariXOtlv, to Iv awfinrt yiviffOai, aJc fafiiv
\\/vxTiv iv c('ofinTi yiviaOai, to TOvr<f> Sovvai n Trap' avTrjc, ovk iKiivov
■y«i'i<T0nt.

'»« 11.9,2. •»' VI. 4. 16.

686 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

fuses to admit that the Soul of the world, when it
commingles with body, is passive and sentient, he
speaks most unscientifically. Thus he maintains
that the mundane Soul, as having so large a body,
requires not to be sensible of what is going on in
the several parts of the world, in the same way as
■what is related of the enormous whale, that it takes no
notice of the minuter motions of its own body .^^^ But
in such views, we trace the infl ence of his other
mode of viewing the world, according to which the
sensible phenomenon, which expresses a passive
affection of the Soul, does not for it exist really.
And this is true, not only of the mundane, but also
of every individual soul. On this point Plotinus
expresses himself in perfect conformity with the
philosophers of India. This sensuous life is a mere
stage-play ; all the misery in it is merely imagi-
nary ; all grief a mere cheat of the player ; it is a
mere game of play ; and as such man ought to look
upon it ; for the Soul is not in the game, but looks
on while nothing more than the external phantom
of man weeps and laments.^^^ And all this has its
origin therein, that the things of the sensible world
do in fact stand off from the truth of the One, and
estrange themselves from it ; inasmuch as by their
own proper liberty they wish to be something in and
by themselves, and thereby fall to the lot of sem-

^'^ IV. 9, 2 "Qamp tTrl Krjrwv XeyBrat /leydXojv, t<p' wv TraOijuaros
rivoc iripl TO (icpoc oyroi; rtp o\({i a'iadiiaic Ciu jiiKpoTijra rov Kivrjixarog

oiidifxia Trpoffipx^''"*-

^^^ III. 2, J5. "QdTTtp Ci iTTi Toiv OidTQwv TotQ (TKJjvaTf, ovrw XPV Kul
Toig ijiovovq QtaiQai kui TtuvraQ OavarovQ icai iroXiuiv aXwatig Kai dpTra-
y«f, fisrciQiffiLQ -iTcivTU Kal ^iraaxVI^'^'''^<^^'Q "^"^ Oin'jvujv ical oifxojywv
VTroKpiang. Kai yap tvTaiiOa itt'i twv tv tu) ^'it^ iKdurwv ovx n tvSov
rl/vxi], aXX' r) £$a> dvBpwTrov ffjcta *cai olfiw^ti kcii vcvpirai, k.t X.

PLOTINUS. 587

blance. Thus, as we have already observed, it is
imputed to the Reason, that it ventures to stand off
from the One, and is on this account condemned ;
and thus, too, the beginning of evil is laid to the
account of the Soul, which, in its free will, wishes to
be something independently ;^^* and in the same
direction of thought the most fool-hardy and ir-
rational part of the Soul is ascribed to plants as
forming the lowest grade of existence.^"^ According
to this view, then, the irrationality of things in-
creases as they descend in the scale, and are more
and more lost in the semblance of matter.

And here we are evidently touching upon the
view which Plotinus entertained of the liberty of
things. But this subject, like all others handled by
him, is the occasion of conflicting views which it
was beyond his power to reconcile. These opposite
views are the same as we have already met with in
Philo — one tending to regard the good alone as
free, but the other making liberty to consist in the
disposition to evil. The latter view of liberty which
we have already met with, makes it to consist in
the power whicii all things enjoy of declining fi-om
their original. Tlie ascription to them of such a
power was but a natural consequence of the theory
of emanations; according to which every substance
produces another from out of itself, and is abso-

"* V. 1, 1. Ti JToTt ujjn tiTrt ro -rrivoiTjKVQ tuq \l/vx"i irarpuQ Oiov
liriKuQ'iijQai Ku\ ^oipn^ kKt'iOiv ovaaQ Kai iiXdjf ixuvov ayvoT/ffai Kai
tnvruf; Kcti U-tlvov-^ "PX') /'*" "^^ aiiralc roii kokov »/ rdX/m Kai »'/
yfviai^ Kn'i j; ttomtii irip6rr]i; Kai ru ftov\i]Q7iV(u it iavTwv urni > ry
Sii auriKovauit, k.t.X. The roXfia is also menliomil, ii. t), 11. Il is even
found iiiR'^asnii; vi. 9, .5. Noi'c ATToartivai St Trujf rov h'or roXfiijtTac.

588 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

Intel}' in and by itself ;^^^ but such a liberty is in
fact nowise different from that universal necessity
which all things are subject to, constraining them
to allow these emanations to proceed from out of
themselves, and to stand in the relation of primaries
to them. The force which has the power to be im-
manent, and also to emanate, cannot be constrained
by aught. The supra-sensible alone with naught
beside it was impossible; the sensible followed from
it of necessity. ^^^ If, now, Flotinus looked upon
this necessity of emanation as a free operation, he
must have been driven to this view by a considera-
tion of the inevitable difficulties which pressed
him when he made the lower emanations ultimately
dependent upon the supreme God, and yet traced
the ground of evil and defect to the descent from the
Highest. He who would not suffer it to be said, even
in an astrological sense, of the subordinate deities,
the stars, that the corruptions of morals arise from
them,^^^ could scarcely admit tliat the evil in the
world is of God. Accordingly, he describes the
descent of Reason to the Soul, and of the Soul to the
sensible world, in their respective degrees, as acts
of free-will or temeritv. Man is a free creature, the

*'* III. 1, 4. 'AWd yap Cu Kai iKaarov 'tKaarov tlvai Kai TrpaXfig
ijfxirspas Kai Siavuia<; inrc'ipx^^'^ "■"' '"'^f fKctarov KaXac t( Kai alvxpciQ
7rpaC"C Trap' tavrov iKaoTOV. lb- ii- 9- Ov yap dr/ o'i'Tdj nijv vpovoiuv
ilvai SiX, uirre fxtjCiv I'lficig uvai. IV. 3, 13. Oil-f tu Ikovoiov toiovtov
iijg 7rpoi\ka9ai^ aW wi; to Tzi]Cav Ka-a (pvatv, k.t.X.

*^^ IV. 8, 5, in. Oil rotj'vv Cia(pwvn aWfiXoig . . . . i) re avajKr] to Tt

(KOVfflOVf iTTftTTfO tyft TO IKOIIOLOV i) flvdyKTJ. VI. 7, 8. ' AKku TJV ^IV

tKilva, raii-a ct tTrriKoXoiGii t? avayKr]C tK(ivot(; • ov yap f]i> aTijvai
fiixpt ''<^»' tKtl. rig yap uv 'icTtiai ciivajxiv fxtviiv Tt Kai Trpoi'tvai Ivva-

""* III. 1,4; 6. Uovrjpia S( fj9ovg napa 9(uiv ovtwv TraJf av ?v6ih] ;
iv. 4, 39.

PLOTINUS. 589

source of his own deeds ; sin is his own guilt. ^^^ But,
in truth, he found it impossible to adhere strictly to
this view in general ; for, he teaches, every soul has
its part assigned it in this world ; it has in the univer-
sal harmony of things a particular idea (Xoyoc) to ac-
complisli, which in the whole ministers to good, and
prescribes to individuals their determinate actions.^°°
Besides, according to tliis view, liberty would be
but a pernicious gift. Man would be better offif he
did not possess this liberty of evil. But even as a
choice between good and evil, liberty appears to him
but little desirable ; such a liberty is but a depriva-
tion of power. ^*^^ Occasional!}', indeed, he would
perhaps ascribe such an election to the soul. ^°^ But
then he calls to mind the proposition of Plato, that
every ceatu re that chooses evil, does so, involuntarily
impelled, probably, by some indwelling impulse.^°^
On this account he denies that it is true liberty to
follow nature, and to obey the sensuous presentations
and desires. That which is done from opinion merely,
is not to be accounted a free act, but only that which
right reason accomplishes with science. The reason
alone is free, simply because it desires good, which
is correspondent with its nature ; whatever is without
matter is also free, but this is the case only with theo-
retical reason. Consequently practical reason, which
is necessarily occupied with, and oppressed by, the
material, has no claim to liberty.^"' Such a liberty

•'" III. 2, 10. sq, ''^ II). xi. 17, 18.

'•"" VI. 8, 21. Kat yup rb rd avrnfti'/itra Ivvaadai iSvvaniac'lari, cf. iii.
1,1.

^^ III. «, 2.

*" I\'. fl, .5, Tlav fiivydp ibv lirl to x*^('OV aKOvCtOf. ^op^ yt fti^v oi'icitf

ll'lV, TTUTXnV tA \lipo), K.T.X.

»<" III. 1,7, ri; vi. R, 2— 7.

590 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

is, then, ascribed also to man ; by his own nature
he is freely carried to good, for virtue knows no
master.^°^

These observations on the conflicting tendencies
of the doctrine of Plotinus, irresistibly enforce them-
selves upon our minds, when we enter upon the
domain of sensation, and inquire what are the
results touching individual souls in the sensible
world to which his general theory leads. And
here it is of importance to bear in mind that indi-
vidual souls are portions of the universal, and that
consequently whatever is taught concerning the
latter, applies equally to the former. How, he asks,
can we any more than it be without inclination to the
corporeal or be free from the passive affections which
proceed from the corporeal ? That such is not the
case, is beyond question ; great care, however, is
necessary against our being deceived as to what we
are in truth. The term we may be taken in two
senses ; one includes the animal, the other con-
fines itself to that which is above it. Now, by
animal, Plotinus understood the animated body ;
but, on the other hand, the true man is something
very different; it is absolutely pure from all that is
corporeal-^pure abstract soul.^°^ That the man,
and especially the good man, consists not of body
and soul, was to the mind of Plotinus sufficiently
proved by the separation of the soul from the body

^^ III. "2, 10. 'Apxal ci Kai dvOpwiroi' Kivovvrai yovv irpbg ru KaXa
oiKt7a (pvuii Kai apxv a^'Tti avrt^ovaiog. iv. 4, 39.

^^ 1. 1, 10. Airrov ovv to iijitlg rj avvafiQfioviiivov tov Qripiov rj to
virip TOvTO ySi). BrjpionSf (^ww^ef to ffutfia' 6 it a\t]6t)Q dv9(iw7roi; t2X\oc,
6 xaOapbg TovTtov,Ta£ dpirdc txwv ra^ iv vorjmi, ai Si) iv nirij rij ^ui Li,o-
fxivy 4'^Xy i-ipvvTai, k.tX.

PLOTINUS. 591

in death and its contempt in life of corporeal advan-
tages. ^°^ The soul, therefore, is the very man ; that
is to say, the genuine soul, the soul itself: for we
may make a distinction between the genuine or true
and the apparent soul, inasmuch as many things
here appear to belong to the soul which do not in
truth pertain to it.^°^ Is it not usual to ascribe
pleasure to it, although it is not the soul but the
animal, i. e. the animated body, that is sentient of
pleasure ? ^°^ We must, he says, purify the soul, or
in other words emancipate and set it free from all
sensual desires and anger, and this precept im-
plies, that the true soul does not consist of desire
and aversion, and that such qualities are alien and
accrue to it from without.^^° In these requisitions,
Plotinus expresses himself in the very tone of a
Stoic. Whatever, he says, does not belong to the
essence of the soul, must be removed from it ; only
he does not for one moment agree with this school,
in ascribing to it as its peculiar property the use of
the sensuous representations. Nevertheless this is
a very unimportant deviation, and belongs to a
difference of terminology rather than of view. For
when we inquire, what then remains after Plotinus

I. 4, 14. To ci /u'l avvaniporepov ilvai rov avOpio-ivov Kal iid\ii7Ta rb%>
tTTTovSalov fiapTvni7 (cai 6 xojpt<TfibQ 6 uno rov ao'ifxaTOQ Kal jj twv Xtyo/itvoiv
nyaOuiV Tov fidt/inror KaTaip(i6vi](fiQ. iv. 7, 1.

""" V. <). 13.

'^■' I. 1, 4; 4, 4; iv. 4, 1ft. Kai to uXyiiv Kal rb I'iCiaQai it rdc rov awfta-
rag ticoi'ac ifipl to ToiovCt awfia larip' riftlv ci if tovtov dXyriStltf Kai »)
roiavTt] ijJov;) {('c yraiirii' fiTruOri ipxiTai. For 9ti(iiov we have also the
reailing 'Oi>nv. I. 1, 4; 7. liy tl)i8 term we arc to understand the Bcnsuous
animal. I. 4, 4. In this limitation of the term it is also said, We could not
live if we were not percipicnlly or scnsiljly moved hy the whole; but tlic soul
funiishes to the soul nothing 1 ut life, iv. 4, 'M>.

"" 1.2, /i; 4, 4; 6; 8.

592 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

has stripped the essence of the soul of all its dis-
guises ? we shall receive for answer, — the reflective,
intellectual, and inquisitive soul ; and this is what
properly we are.^^^ But still it was somewhat
startlino; to find the essence of the soul made to con-
sist in investigation and reflection, from which all
change in time cannot well be abstracted ; and to
meet this difficulty, we are now told that the soul is
not in time, but that time is round about it, or that
some only of its operations and states are in time.^^^
Hence, too, arises the conception, tliat the true man is
even sometliing more than soul, viz, reason, or true
thought (Aoyoc), which in the supra-sensible world,
is ever the same.^^^ The end towards which all
these ideas are driving, must be manifest to every
one who has reflected upon similar tendencies, and
particularlythoseoftlie Oriental philosophy: they go
absolutely to disconnect the true essence of the soul
and man from their outward manifestation. When
once the soul is exhibited in such an absolute form,
there is nothing startling to find ascribed to it a per-
fect freedom from all passivity and motion, which it
does indeed allow to proceed out of itself, without how-
ever concerning itself at all. In all its so-called pas-
sive states and motions, the soul as to its ground and
essence remains the same.^^* It is free from the evil

«i I. 1,7; 8; v. 1, 1.

'^' III. 7, G; iv. 4, 15. 'E7r«( ovh' ai \pvxcii iv p^povy, dXXc rd iradtj
nvrStv urra iari Kal rd Troir]fxara.

*^* v. 1, II; vi. 7, 5. Aoyov roivvv cti top nvOpuirov dXkov napu rriv
•^v\riv ilvai,

^^* III. 6, ?>. TiavTaxov tv Trace toiq Xtyofitvoig TrdQtai Kal Kiyjjaeffi
Tt)v i^vx'J*' w<^ovr(oc fX*'*' ''V vTroKtiii'ivijt Kai ry ovaicf. I. 1,9. 'Arpi-
fif/ffft ovv ovSi tJTTOv rj ^vx^ irpoQ iavTTiv icai fv iavry • a'l li Tpoiral
Kal 6 Oopv^og tv ri^ily Trapd twv (TVVi]pT7]HiV0JV Ka'i rwr rov kcii'Ou, '6 Ti

PLOTINUS. 593

which the sensual man commits and suffers, and
is in itself imperturbable.^^^ As the soul in general
does not turn its regards towards the sensible, so
neither does the supra-sensible man; and as the
universal soul does not enter wholly into the world
of sense, so the human soul does not ; ^^^ if the soul
gives life to the body, it does not receive aught from
it in return. ^^'^ In carrying out these propositions,
Plotinus appears in the main possessed with the
idea that the corporeal alone is sensual, but that
whatever is incorporeal is supra-sensible, and there-
fore impassible, and from this view he deduces
rigorously enough the freedom of the soul from all
passivity, in the same way as he has even ascribed
total impassibility to matter on the ground of its
being incorporeal. ^^^

It is impossible to say that Plotinus did not per-
ceive the ultimate consequences of this doctrine ;
for he admits that the evil propensities of the soul,
and consequently their penalties, do not affect its
essence, but that they only influence the composite
creature, the living animal or the delusive image of
the soul.^^^ We have alreadv remarked that accord-

Sif TTori iffrt tovto, a>c iiptjTai, TraOtifiaTwv, By koivov, the communityt
as it were, which consists of body and soul, is meant. What is still more sin-
gular, even the ImOvnqTiKiv of the soul is conceived of as unchangeable, iv.
4.21.

'" F- 1,9. "* IV. 8, r,; vi. 7, 7.

''' 11.9,7.

HI. 6, (). Tj/v /itv ci (^/) ?) ovaiav Tt)v vnt]Tr]v .... wq annOr)
111 tivai coKtTv, t'ipi}Taf tTrii Si Kal t) v\ij tv n rCJv dvufidruv, k.t.X.
lb. .'(, and in many other passfigcs. It is only the body or the opposed
qualilies than win suffer, iii. 6, 9, 19. This view is sujiported on Arihtoteiian
principles, but it docs not in truth agree with another proposition ; tli;>t, viz.
matlfr can he moved and fa>hioned by the soul. iii. i), 1.

I. 1, r?. 'AXX' ti livafjaprnTog t) \}/vxtj. 7ra/f,at liKai :

IV. 2 Q

594 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

ing to Plotiniis, passive affections and misery light
only upon the outward shadow of man. It is im-
possible for any expressions of contempt for man's
life in this Avorld to be stronger than this. Every-
thing which belongs to it must have appeared to
Plotinus insio-nificant and worthless. But his con-
tempt extends itself to virtue, no less than to
vice. The four Platonic virtues are not the true
and higher virtues of the soul. Its real virtue is
simply wisdom, and the contemplation of whatever
the Reason comprises. ^^° The happiness of the soul
consists not in any outward pursuit, but in its own
intrinsic energy ; man may be happy even in sleep,
for the soul sleeps not.^^^ How could any active
pursuit or political virtue be of value to a man who
placed the highest, nay, the sole end of human
exertion in the contemplation of unity, and who
hoped to attain to this height of excellence only by
the total withdrawal of the soul from all external
things? When man is on high, in the supra-sensi-
ble, he forgets even the good deeds of his earthly
existence, and holds them in little esteem. Once
united with the One, the interests of politics appear
unworthy of him ; he leaves behind him the whole
band of virtues, in the same way that he who enters

Ciivd IXOV TTClQl], K.T.X. VI. 4, 16.

"'" 1.2, 1; 6. Ti'c ovv iKCKT-T] aptr-i] rt^ roiovro) '^ rj <ro(pia fikv tv
Qtcapiq,, b)V vovg t\(.i. lb "> • KaJ oX(o£ ^wv oiiyl rov dv9puirov jiiov tov
Tov ayaQov, ov d^toX r) TroXiriK^ apiri], aWd tovtov ftiv KuraXiTrwv,

aXXoV di tko^tVOQ, TOV TWV BtHJV.

"1 1. 4, J>; .•;, 10.

PLOTiNus. 595

into the sanctuary, leaves the images of the gods in
the ante-temple behind him.^-^

How, indeed, could such a doctrine which recom-
mended an absolute abstraction of the soul from all
emotions and relation to the external world avoid
involving itself in error? And in truth we meet
with little else than erroneous views, Avhen Plotinus
thinks it necessary, in order to exhort men to virtue
and philosophy, to employ all sorts of arguments,
and seeks to lead men to the height of the Supreme,
by carrying them through all the degrees of love
which Plato has established.^^^ But what need have
we to cultivate love and desire as uniting all to the
Supreme,^^'* if, according to our essence, we have
never been separated from it? He himself seems to
have been conscious of these difficulties, since he
proposes the questions, — whj^ needs man to labour to
render the soul impassible, if originally it be with-
out passions ; and why any purification of the soul
is requisite, if it has never been polluted V^^' How-
ever, the answers which he gives to these questions
are far from satisfactory. He merely observes, that
the soul must withdravv^ itself from the fashioning by
the inferior images, even thougli it docs not in reality
occasion any disturbance of its contemplation ; the

IV, 3, 32; vi. 9, 7; 11. 'YTrtpfidr riCt) Kai tov nTiv aperuiv x^P"'')
itxrnfp rif ii;; to tiffui rov ucvrov iia£v<;, tig rovTrioio KUTaXnrwv ra iv
Ttfi vai^ dyuXfiara.

'•* I. 6, 9, and in m.nny otlicr places. We have here to note three grades of
hcauty; that of tlie body, that of the soul, and lastly that of Reason, which in not
\nyoQ but makes it, v. 8, 3.
"' V. .0, 1; vi. 5. 10.

FII. 6, .5. Ti ovv xpi) }^r]Tiiv airaQit Tt)v \l/v\riv ix (ptXoaoipin^ rroit'iv
firf^i r>)v c'lpxr'iv Trciax^vrrav ; dXXcf n't ti KuCapan. I'lv t/,c

2q2

596 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

soul must be abstracted from the body, although
this cannot be except by the body having no longer
any participation in soul;^^^ he requires that thcL,
soul should collect itself again from out of the dis-
persion of the fragmentary existence, wherein it at
present lives, to a consciousness of the whole,
although it has in truth never quitted this tota-
lity. ^^'^ It is clear that in these propositions he
grants to the soul at one moment what he is forced
to deny to it in the next. The human soul cannot be
conceived to be so totally impassive as Plotinus was
disposed and believed it incumbent on him to con-
sider it. Man is indeed to a certain degree in
eternity, and in a certain degree in time also ; we
have not wholly fallen, although in part we have.
However contemptible and worthless Plotinus
may in his own mind be disposed to consider
this world of phenomena, it is, nevertheless, not so
absolutely worthless and naught as not to exercise
an influence over mankind, and to affect more or
less a disturbance of his happiness. Plotinus admits
that a part of the soul, which belongs to man, is
held down here below by the body ; the individual
soul loses something of its proper might as soon as
it enters into body ; that part of the soul which
moves the body suffers b}^ this its proper operation ;
and although matter, no less tlian the soul, is repre-
sented as impassive, still evil is held to be a passion
of matter, and also of the soul, which has become assi-
milated to matter.^^^ Now although this may hold

"^ VI. 4, IG. To S' airiKQt~ii' to jxriSaixri to owfia iTTiKoivtoveiv avTiji;.

•*" L. 1.

»" 1!. 9, 7; Hi. 1.8; iii. 7, C; vi. 9, 8; v. 9, 10. To yap KaKov ii'TavOa

PL0TINU3. 597

good of the soul, so far as it has entered into the sen-
sible world, perhaps we shall find that its supra-
sensible essence is unaffected by such imperfections.
But no, tlie very nature of the soul involves an
estrangement from good ; it must, in the first place,
apply itself to good, and thereby become determi-
nate; hence it is, that it appears to be mixed and
indeterminate, and a notion."^ In this condition,
having only a presentiment of good in the vague and
indefinite image of the sensuous presentation, it gives
birth to love as a proper entity, from which view it
results that the very idea of the soul forbids us to
ascribe to it an essence unchangeable and unaflfected
by any passive state soever.

This it was the less possible for Plotinus to deny,
the more decidedly his expositions assumed the tone
of moral exhortations. His object throughout is to
direct men's thoughts to the Supreme Excellence,
and to emancipate them from all that is low and mean.
Accordingly he views it as the fault of the individual,
if in any case a man is unable to loose himself from
the sensible.^^° The soul is described by him as occu-
pied in an assimilation of itself to Reason both in
practice and cogitation. ^^^ He is almost incessantly
demanding that men should seclude themselves

l^ luStiac Kai ariftrjatwQ kuI l\\ii\piu)c Kal v\;)c urvxovffric irdOoc Kat

TOV vXy OJflOliJjfilVOV,

'• ■" III. '.I, 3; 5, 7. Alb Kai iv ry yivvrjcrei rov tp<i}TOQ b nXuriiiv <pr]ai
TOV TTupov Tffv fiiOrjv tx"" ''"^ vtKrapoc oifoii outtm uvro<;, wf 7r()o row
aiu9r]Tov TOV tpwTOQ ytvofi'kvov Kal tTji; Trivirit; ntTi\ou(Ti]r (piiiriiiii vntjTov,
a\\ oiiK ilcotXov vorfTou, oiio iKtWt.v iix<ptivrao9(fTog, d\\ tKti yii'o-
fi'ivijc ««' ovfiiJiix9ii(TqQ i)Q iii ii<Jouc Kui aopiTrtac, ijf ixovaa i) ^ox^
m/iv Tvxuv Tiiv dyuOoi', ^lavTivofXrvri ci ri ilvai (cara dopiaroi' (cai
(Irrtipoy <pi'ivTa>jfia Tr)v vTTotjTaaiv tou ipu>TOQ rfKovcrir.

^ VI. .0, 4. »' V. 3, 7.

598 IVEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

from one another. He wishes to cure by his philo-
sophy such souls as are entangled in misery and
ignorance, by directing their attention to two con-
siderations — the worthlessness of all sensible good
things, and the consciousness of their hio'li orio'in.^^^
He would seek to bring them to God by virtue,
which, as it forms itself in the soul, reveals God, for
God without true virtue is but an empty name.^^^
Now when Plotinus directed such exhortations to
mankind, it was impossible that he could have con-
sidered as unreal the ver}'^ states out of which it was
his object to withdraw and improve men. He must
have estimated the magnitude of the evil which
environs mankind exactly by the amount of pains
and trouble necessary to free them from it.

These are the general principles on which Plo-
tinus founded his view of the universal system of
things, and these too the contradictions in which he
involved himself at the very time that he taught
that self-contradiction is a proof of error.^^* On the
whole, indeed, we discover two tendencies in the
general habit of his ideas which are constantly
conflicting with each other; the one tending to an
absolute contempt for all mundane things which it
labours to represent as utterly null and unprofitable,
while the other seeks to exhibit them as self-subsist-
ent, by raising them, as he does, for instance, with
man and the soul, to the rank of the supra-sensible.
These two directions are in direct opposition to

"- V. 1, 1.

*^ 11.9, 15. 'Ap£r>) n'lv ovv tli; TtXog Trcio'iovaa Kcti iv '•p^XV tyytvofiiVT)
fiird <ppovi]at'jjq Qtiv li'iKvvciv. dvev ct aperTiQ aX.>i9iviJQ Qioq XtyojxivoQ
ovr-ua tarii'. '•■! 9, 3.

*" £. g. iv. 0, 8.

PLOTINUS. 599

each other, and lead Plotinus at one time to
exclaim that all [things here are but illusory
images, and that nothing is real ; ^^^ at another,
to declare that all is here that is there.^^^ This
contradiction extends itself even to his most
general ideas, where it expresses itself as the basis
of his theory of emanations, whose very object is to
claim an independent subsistence for each emana-
tion, and at the same time to look upon it as null
when compared with that which is immediately
higher than itself, or that from which the particular
emanation proceeds. The extreme result of one of
these tendencies is the doctrine that matter is a per-
fect nullity; that it does not exist for the sake of
aught lower, because it is itself tlie lowest and the
last ; nor for aught higher, since for this its lower is
not absolutely ; and lastly, not for itself, since it is
only the limit. This view of the nullity of matter
may be regarded as a considerable progress, which
Plotinus efi'ectcd in following out the tendency of
the Graeco-Oriental philosoph}', of wliich the ulti-
mate result was necessarily tlie position that no truth
of the sensible world can stand in op])Osition to the
one and sole truth of the supra-sensible. The pro-
mulgation of this doctrine removed, undoubtedly,
much of the vaiiuencss and inconsistency which had
previously agitated this species of philosophy ; but
at the same time it gave rise to other difficulties,
since consistently the ascctical abhorrence of matter
could jiavo no foundation in such a view. That
Plotinus did not absolutely reject it, only proves that

"^ II. 0, 1. VAowXa yop kui ovk iXriOij.
'^ V. 0, 13.

600 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

the other tendency was able to make itself felt even
on the opposite one. Now the extreme result of that
other tendency, was the doctrine of the supra-
sensuous intuition of the One. According to the
view of Plotinus, the supra-sensible idea is every-
where present in the world, which is nothing else
than a thought of Reason, in itself expressing the
whole, and which, in the same manner as the Reason
does, also bears in itself a perfect consciousness of
the Supreme Principle. Now if we conceive all that
subsists in the world to be unassailed by any limi-
tation of matter, which indeed is merely a nullity,
then every mundane subsistence is participant of this
perfect consciousness. The Reason knows that a
something exists anterior to itself out of which it
exists, and that something is posterior to the First,
which is itself. ^^'^ But, it must be confessed, this
entity of reason and rational substance are directly
attacked by the opposite tendency of the Plotinian
theory. In the emanation of things, the emanated
and lower exist not for the higher, and therefore
the Reason is not for the One ; but again the lower is
not for the Reason, and consequently the only con*
elusion that remains is, that it is something for itself.
But it is impossible to say what it is for itself,
since its actuality consists in nothing more than its
emanating from, and again emitting out of itself
other emanations, viz., its pure thoughts. Hence
its desire to exist for itself is described as a foolish
efibrt, by which it passes into the null, and loses its
true entity. On tiie other hand, its true reality is

'■"^ V. 5, 2. Kal t'i Ti TTpb uvrov, ort t? avrcv, icai tl ri (Kt' ticiiPOf on

PLOTINUS. 601

made to consist in this, that it directs itself to the
One, and unites itself with it, whereby, however, its
own existence seems forthwith to cease.

We do not hesitate to admit that a certain desTee
of truth is contained in both directions of this
doctrine. Accordingly many true ideas are to be
found in the writings of Plotinus, which bear
witness to his acuteness and profundity of mind,
and have won for him the love and admira-
tion of later ages. He was animated with a noble
and earnest pursuit of the highest excellence that
the reason can desire. He souo;ht to make truth
the property of man ; it, he taught, is man's es-
sence ; he possesses it, and may apprehend and
seize it within his own consciousness. In this world
there are not mere phantoms only, but also true
virtue and true science. Tiiese are within the soul,
and whatever is purely developed in it, is also there;
and whatever is there, it is in the power of the soul
to appropriate to itself, so that there is nothing in
the supra-sensible which is not to be found in this
world also, if we consider the soul to be a part of
jj. 238 Thus does he exhort man to labour, to im-
prove and call forth the faculties of the soul, and
to direct them to the higher, and to raise itself
above the selfish and the sensual. Reason must be
active in man in order to rule the lower desires, as

V. 9, 13. "Elvai li'-t^/vx^'i ovrtoQ ovatjc iKoarr)^ Kat hKaioavvriv Si)
Tivn Kai ruixppoavvTjv Kai iv to'iq Trap' iifxiv xpuxctif;, iTriariiiiijv aXri^ivriv,

OKC ii( w\a, oi'/Ct iiKofUQ tKiiviov, o>s iv ai'a^rjTijJ ouri fiii> uvi> i/'t'XV

1/ Toinvrii ivTav'ia, ravra tKu. iitari tl ra ip rip ala'briTip tu iv rnTf ujxti/ic-
voif XayiftdvoiTo, ov fiovov ui'Ta iv n^ alT^rjTip iKt'i, dWd Kai ■n\iiw. ti Si
TU IV Tif) Kovfit^ Xtyoiro, (TvnTrrptXafifiavofiivwv Kai \pv\iirKai twv Iv 4'^XV'
TTcivTa li'Tai'^a, oaa r.i.Kii.

602 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

the wisdom of the old and experienced restrains the
unruly muUitude ; but when reason remains inactive
the worse principle as>umesthe rule; and when it is
inactive towards ourselves, then it works towards that
which is above.^^^ But it is to scientific activity
before all things, that Plotinus seeks to stimulate the
soul. Compared with this pursuit, every other is mean
and contemptible. He seeks to reduce all the prac-
tice of this world to theory ; for, he says, nothing
is accomplished except by the soul's contemplation
of the prototype from which itself proceeds. And
then he follows out the idea of science in its highest
acceptation. Science is not a mere copy of the
truth, different from and extrinsical to it ; for other-
wise it would not contain the truth, and if it pre-
tended to reach it by any such a copy, then would it
be but a double deception. Consequently the true
science of reason must contain in itself the supra-
sensible and true, and be one with it.^^" Further,
this true science requires no verification from with-
out — nor demonstration, wliich must itself invari-
ably imply, and refers to, for its own confirmation,
some immediate conviction ; whereas the reason
is ever present to itself and self-evident, and nothing

'■"' I. 1, 11. "Otov dk apyy eiQ yfiag, evspyti vpoq to dvw. VT. 4, \5.

*'" V. 5. 1. Ei yap Kai on jiaXidTit Sott] riQ raura t^oj ih'ai Kai tov
vovv ahru ovThii; ixovTa ^iwpuv, avayKoiov auTiTj /x/;r£ 70 aXjjrtt; avrwv
e (iii^ Ciiii/ivcr^ai Tt iv imuaiv vTq ctwpti. ra ji'tv y('in cWrjS'iva. av tit] tKni a ^
Bitoorjffii Toivvv aura, o!<k txaiv abru. t'iowXa ci aurixiv ti' ry yvCiati Tn
Tficr'iry \ai5iov. to toii'Vv d\ii3:ivuv ui'K txwi\ I'iiwXa (£ tov dXii^iovi; Trap'
u'vTi7}\ajiit)v Tu t^ivcf) hiti koI ohctv aXj;.3fff. ti fiiv ovv tituitjn, on rdxpivcii
t,\£i, o/xo/\oyj;(T£t ujimpoQ dXri^iiuQ tlvcti, it ce Kai rovro dyvoiian Kai oi'i]-
airai TO dXn^kr txiiv ovk exi^v, ftTrXaffioi> tv cii'jti^ to i^fff^oc,- ytv^^jivov
iroXv ri'ii dXij^iiaQ alirov dTroan'i-Ju. - lb. 2 ; 0,5; vi. 6, 6.

PLOTINUS. t03

can be more certain than it.^^^ It is obvious that
Plotinus is speaking liere of the one science, and
the absolute reason which embraces all. And in
these propositions we can trace a thought which
Plotinus loved to follow ; tliat, viz. in true science
the soul is able to embrace the whole ; a thought
whose truth he has skilfully and luminously ex-
hibited by many illustrations. For this purpose
he has, after Numenius, pointed out an important
distinction between the corporeal or sensible and
the rational. The corporeal, for instance, can never
form a true unit}' ; it is separated in space, and its
parts fciU away from each other, while the space
which one part occupies cannot be entered by
any otiier. But it is very different with the
tlioughts of the soul ; they come together into one
science, and when we possess one we may also be
in possession of another. Now it is such a science
that Plotinus was in search of ; one that comprises
all true thoughts, and reduces them to the unity of
a single thought. And moreover, that which is
true of particular thoughts in an individual soul,
holds equally of the relations of individual souls
one to another. They do not each form by itself
an independent and perfect whole, but it is in their
rational co-existence that they originate, by their
intellectual communion, intelligence and science,
and if herein they all possess the Good, still no one
possesses it to the exclusion of the rest, and no one
h:is a ])art which does not belong also to the others,
but they are all in siniihir contact with it, so that no
hindrance exists why they should not all have the

"' V. 5. 1 , 2.

604 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

same and be one in it. Thus the nature of the
soul is in fact illimitable, since no one soul can be
limited by another in its rational possession. ^^^

Even if these ideas be not entirely new, we must
nevertheless, ascribe to Plotinus the praise of un-
derstanding them more completely, and following
them out more rigorously than any of his prede-
cessors ; and we should have to estimate his merits
very highly indeed, if he had been able to combine
these ideas with a rational life and development of
the soul. But it was on this problem that his
general theory was wreckeJ. He was prevented
from giving a satisfactory solution of it by the in-
disposition he everywhere evinces, to recognise the
reason as a faculty which gradually arises within
man and gradually evolves itself in the life of sen-
sation. Reason, he maintained, rightly understood,
is not a faculty ; for if it be such, then the irrational
might pass into the rational, and thought would
be somethino- foreis'n to it and adventitious. More-
over, the real entity, the object of rational cognition,
cannot be generate, for then existence would appear

u2 YY, 4^ 4. AisffrTjsav yap (sc. at xpvxai) ov SiscTwffai Kal rrdptiffiv
dWijXaiQ ovK dWoTpiui^tlaai. ov yap nspaaiv tlai Suopiffixtvai, wwip ovdi
t7n(rr/;/tai at TToXXat tv xpvxym^ Kal tariv »; ju/a TOiavrr), Hiari Ixuv tv lavTy
■jTciirat;. o'vtioq tcTTiv aTrtipoi; t) Toiavrt) (pvaii;. lb. 5, 10. ov ci '6\ov iyco,o\ov Sk
Kid av, dvacnraa^iv iKOTipov iKarepov. fiiiiovvrai Si Kai iiCKXr]iTiai Kal Tracra
(TuvoCo^, b)Q HQ 'iv TO (ppovtiv luvTiuv. Kal X'^P'Q fKaaroQ tig to (ppovitv
da^ivTjs, cv/i/3d\Xuv Si ii'q 'iv irag iv ry crvv6C(iJ Kai ry 6>q aXij^'oi^ avvkau

TO <ppoviiv iyivvr]at Kal tvpe KaiToiKal Talg xpvxalg wg itpaTTTOfii^a

Tov dya^ov, txpT]v iv^vjitiaiai. ov yap dWov (liv iyu), uXXov ci cv iitdTTTij,

dXXd-ov avTov Ti Si Kal ifnroSmv tov eIq 'iv ; oli yap ci) to tTipov

drruj ^tt ^UTSpov, tottov ou Traoixov, wuTrtp ov^ opcovrt; Traj/ fid^mxa Kal
&tujpt)iia Kai oXwr imaTrifiaQ TrdaaQ iirl 4'i'X'5^' *'^ <JTivox(^povfikvaQ. dX\'
iiri ovaiiov ipfjaii Tig, ov SvvaTOV. dXX' ov SvvaTov rjv dv, elirfp oyKoi }jffav
oi aXjyjiVu- ciycicri.

PLOTINUS. 605

to accrue to it contingently. ^^^ Thus do the conflict-
ing tendencies of his doctrine hinder Plotinus from
evolving to a correct intelligence and to perfect
life the pregnant ideas which he throws out so
abundantly. He was unable to reconcile these
tendencies, because, on the whole, he did not depart
out of the sphere of thought which he found
already developed. These ideas, however, had in
his da3^s arrived at a closer contact with each other
than had ever before been the case ; and the contra-
diction in which they appeared to be involved, ex-
cited in him indeed a lively activity, which however
proposed to itself no higher object than the dis-
guising and concealment of these contradictions.
As to his mental character, he was utterly devoid
of invention, and not a single new idea is to be
found in his whole works.

It is in its more special disquisitions that the
weakness of Plotinus's theory is most apparent. He
lives only in the general, in those dialectical dis-
quisitions on the liighcst principles of which we
have given an exposition. These he is incessantly
bandying ; they are brought forward in endless
repetition, and with little if any variation. He does
indeed attach to them certain notions of a more
special nature ; but of these also, we soon perceive
that they are derived from anterior disquisitions,
and do not throw any light on the character of his
philosophy. He does not, it is true, confine philo-

'•' v. ft, 5. ^ii Ik vuiiv Xajiftavnv, tinip IrraXii^ivaofiiv ti^ ovofiari,
H?) rhv Svvann, ftijSi tov i^ afponvvt]Q »i'c vovv iX^ovra. . . ii fl fit), iiriiK-
rbv Tu (Ppovilv Ixti liii nai aiTwc oi'r«" »*/ yiyvofiiva Kcti dffoXXt'-

603 NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY;

sophy to dialectic, but also recognises physics and
ethics as two component parts of it, aUhough he
does not appear to liave had anything like a clear
notion of their relation to dialectic. Upon one point
alone is his opinion made up, and that is, that both
are of inferior value to dialectic, which alone is
highly to be praised.^** On the other hand, the value
of such of his disquisitions as may be assigned to
these other parts of philosophy is very insignificant.
As he regarded the corporeal and natural becoming
merely as a shadowy form in the soul, the natural
connection of the world and of finite existences
in it necessarily appeared to him in no other light
than as a sympathy of the souls ^^^ which are brought
to their respective bodies, as it were, by a magical
attraction ; and, as it were by a magical art, are
united with the whole, while the two reciprocally
exercise upon each other a kind of magical influ-
ence.^^^ Thus did Plotinus resolve physiology into
certain magical affinities — a sympathy of souls.
On the other hand he ascribes no further import-
ance to ethical doctrines than as they qualify man-
kind for the task of emancipating themselves from the
natural bond of necessary and conditional existence,
— the magical enchantment of practical life ; every
virtue is simply a purification from the corporeal or
sensible,^*^ and hence the whole theory of ethics
loses itself in a system of asceticism.

Thus, then, do we see the Socratic philosophy,

^■' I. 3, 6. Mfpoc ovi' TO Tijxinv- txn- ydp Kai aWa iptXoaoipia, k.t.X.
«=> IV. 3, 8; 9, 2. "^ JV. 3, 13; 4, 26; 40.

'■'''' I. 6, 6. 'Effri yap Cr;, wr li TraXaiot; \6yog, Kai ») (TwtpporrvvT] ko'i fj
avSpia Kai naaa apirri KuGaping • Kai t] tppovrjaif; avrr], k.t.X.

PLOTINUS. 607

"svliose characteristic distinction was the attempt to
elaborate the orclerless constituents of philosophy
into an organic whole of three co-ordinate parts, again
losing itself in a rude and shapeless mass, incapable
of exciting a philosophical interest, except by vague
disquisitions of a very general nature, into the first
grounds of all things. Although it is with such
speculations into first and general principles that
philosophy must commence, yet it quickly discovers,
as its inquiries advance, that in order to elucidate llie
general, it must investigate the special ; but as soon
as it begins to decline, it becomes incapable of a
right appreciation of the special, and holds the
general to be alone worthy of its attention. How-
ever much, therefore, we may be delighted with
the occasional flashes of true and vigorous thought,
which the writings of Plotinus display, still it is
only the blind or the blindfold that can overlook
the signs of decrepitude, which the philosophy of
Greece exhibits in these productions. The total
absence of form in these investigations, the little
regard which they pay to the special branches of
scientific knowledge, the want of originality, the
inability which they so clearly evince either to
reconcile divergent tendencies, or to control them
by powerful and energetic thought, clearly prove
that while we must admit Plotinus to have been
higldy eminent in his age and country, yet that tlie
period itself was one fast verging to decrepitude,
and the people to which he belonged were rapidly
Iiastening to its dissolution as a nation.

CHAPTER 11.

SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

To judge from the biography of Plotinus as
written by Porphyry, none of that philosopher's
numerous disciples were more distinguished than
Amelius and Porphyry himself. Of the former,
our knowledge is too limited to allow of our form-
ing any estimate of his philosophical merits, whereas
the latter at once demands our attention, as having
contributed more than all others to the diffusion of
his master's opinions.

Porphyry was born at Batanea in Syria, a.d. 233.
In his national tongue he was called Malchus, for
which he himself assumed the name of Porphyry
as its equivalent in Greek. In grammar and rhe-
toric he had for his teacher Longinus, by whom he
was also instructed in the doctrines of neo-Platon-
ism.^ When in his thirtieth year he joined the
school of Plotinus at Rome ; he entertained certain
opinions with respect to Plato's theory of ideas,
which it was difficult to reconcile with the Plotinian
doctrine ; but when his fellow-disciple Amelius, at
the request of Plotinus, had convinced him of the
futility of these opinions, he became an undoubting
and zealous follower of their master's opinions. A

* S. Fabric. Bibl. Gr, v. p. 725, not. Hail.

PORPHYRY. 609

fit of melancholy, so severe as almost to tempt him
to commit suicide, was relieved by a visit to Sicily,
where he resided up to the time of Plotinus's death.
Upon this event Porphyry returned to Rome, where
his eloquence was highly esteemed, and he appears
to have continued in that city to the dav of his
death, which took place at a ver}' advanced age.^

Porphyry confesses his inferiority to Plotinus,
when he tells us that once onl}^ in eight3'^-six years
had he been able to attain to union with God;
whereas his master, in a shorter existence of sixty,
had four times arrived at the same consummation.^
Great indeed must have been his confidence in the
judgment of Plotinus which could so long implicitly
adopt the conclusions of that philosopher in the
absence of any instruction as to the basis on whicli
his whole theory rested. He appears to have been
entirely devoted to it. So long as he lived it found
in him its steadiest and most powerful supporter.
He worked in its support by publishing a laudatory
biography of Plotinus, by arranging the Enneadse
of his works, and by an exposition of its difficulties,
and also by compiling a compendium of its leading
principles, such as must have been greatly needed
for the purposes of the school.* He moreover com-
posed several separate treatises, either with a view
to controversy or with the design of giving a wider
circtdation to certain principles which had not met
with the attention correspondent to their importance.
Under the former head we woidd place his work

' Eunap. V. Porpli.; Porpb. v. Plot. 1 r 2; 3; 7; 11; V2.
' V. Plot. 1!!.

* nop^i»pjow nt Trpoc ra votird o^op/xni. Our quotations arc given from
the edition of Holbtcnius.

IV. 2 R

610 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

against the Christians, whom he charges with falsi-
fying the doctrines of Christ, who himself is
depicted as an enlightened sage.^ To the latter
class belong his commentations of the works of
Plato and Aristotle, the Treatises on the Agree-
ment of the Platonic and Aristotehan Views, and on
the Philosophy deducible from the Oracles and the
Homeric Works ; a History of Philosophy, intended
probably to exhibit all the philosophical labours of
earlier times in the light of his own particular view;^
as well as several other treatises, of which sufficient
fragments still subsist to enable us to form a correct
estimate of his opinions. The rhetorical talents of
Porphyry, who for the age in which he lived is a
tolerable simple, and perspicuous writer, without
doubt aided, in no small degree, in gaining friends
and adherents for his master's system.

But however extensive his labours may have
been, and however important for his school, they
were not calculated to ensure him a lasting reputa-
tion. If the richness and variety of his learning,
and the sweetness of his language, are universally ad-
mired, this praise is invariably accompanied with
the censure that his doctrine is not always consist-
ent with itself.'^ It is impossible to explain away
this complaint by supposing it to have arisen merely
from certain occasional discrepancies of method,

^ This we know from his work Hspt r^e ^^ Xoyi(ov (piXotrofiag. Euseb.
Dem. Ev. iii. 6, 134 ed. Colon. 1688.

'' The life of Pythagoras is, perhaps without cause, regarded as a portion of
this history.

^ Eunap. V. Porph. towards the endj: HoXXac yovv role fjSt) TrpoTrnrpay-
fiaTtvjjitvoiQ j8i/3\toic Gtojpiag ivavTiag KartXnn, Trtpi wv ovk tan 'irtpov
ri So^dZfiv, r\ on Trpdiujv enpa tU^aaiv. This as to details is also the opinion
of Euseb. Pr. Ev. iv. 10; Jam'bl. ap. Stob. Eel. i. p. 866.

PORPHYRY. 611

such as might easily creep into a rhetorical style ;
for these would have occasioned slight inconvenience
to the superficial and inaccurate minds of his fol-
lowers. The difficulties which called forth this
complaint against so esteemed a teacher, must have
been of a far graver and more general nature.^
Something of this kind is intimated by the remark
that Porphyry fluctuated between the rival claims
of theurgy and philosophy, in so far as he did not
indeed reject the former at once, but only scrupled
to ascribe to it the very highest importance Simi-
lar ideas were probably entertained by Plotinus;
but as the treatises of this philosopher touched
rather upon speculations of a general nature than
upon the practical opinions of his own age, he pro-
bably had no occasion for bringing forward these
ideas, or pronouncing a decided opinion with regard
to them. In Plotinus, consequently^ such inconsis-
tency was allowed to pass without notice;^ but such
could not be the case with Porphyry, who vigor-
ously combated the prevailing notions of his age and
school, and sct-upled not to place philosophy high
above the superstitious opinions of the popular
polytheism. And upon this point a few observa-
tions are indispensable for a right appreciation of
the history of the neo-Platonic philosophy.

Amon^ the principles to which Porphyry com-
pendiously reduces the doctrine of his school, that
of the difference of the corporeal and the incor-
poreal stands out in a very strong light. The

August de Civ. D. x, 0. Ut vide.is cum inter vitium sacrilegre curiositntis
ct philo8oj)hia; profcssioncm scntentiis altcrn.'intibiiH (luctujirc.

However, with his disciple Amelius, he is hlnmrd by .Jatnblichus on
the same ground as Porphyry in the text.

2 R 2

61*2 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

latter rules over the former, and it is therefore,
although not spacially yet virtually, everywhere
present ; for the corporeal cannot prevent the en-
trance of the incorporeal into any body whatever.^"
Consequently, the soul also has the faculty of ex-
erting its powers in every direction ; it possesses
infinite energy, and every part of it, when it is free
from matter, is all-powerful and present to all
things. These propositions evidently approximate
towards that view of Plotinus which would assign a
magical influence to the spiritual over the corporeal
world. On the other hand, the natural action of
corporeal forces is regarded as wholly subordinate.^^
The action of a distant agent is expressly declared
to be the only essential one. An agent does not
operate upon another body by contact and proximity ;
and it is only accessarily that a particular body avails
itself, in its operations, of proximity and contact.^^
Holding such a view, it was easy for Porphyry to
reconcile himself to many superstitious opinions ;
indeed we might almost suppose that it was adopted
expressly with a view to favour them. And in-
deed we find much to confirm us in this view.
Among these his theory of demons is peculiarly
remarkable. These are depicted as aerial beings,
which, having no definite shape, are consequently
invisible. The good demons rule the air, and the

^° Sent. (Al TrpoQ ra vojra d<popixai) 2; 3; 28. OvSep Trpbg to dffwjxaTov
Tb KaSr' tavTo r{ rov crwixarog e/xTro^iJti viroffracng TzpoQ to ntj elvai, ottov
fiovXtrai Kai i)Q SikXu. lb. 29.

*^ Sent. 39. 'ATreipoSvvaiJiOQ yap i) rrjc •^j;%j)£ ^vffig tov tvxovtoq

fiepovQ irdvTa vvafitvov, 'irav (ToifidTwv KaBaptvy.

'^ lb. 6. Oil TO iroiovv eiQ dXXo viXdcxEi Kai dc^y ttoui d Trotti, dWd Kai
tA TrtKdtTti Kai d<py ri Ttoiovvra Kara ffu/x/Sf/Sj/KOC ry TTiXdijii \pfjrai.

PORPHYRY. 613

evil are subject to them ; they require food for their
subsistence, and are not immortal. As man can
never be wholly free from liability to pain, he must
seek to propitiate even the evil demons by sacrifices ;
and by the power of magic man can constrain them.
Even the souls of the dead, which still wander
around the bodies they have just left, are subject to
necromantic influence.^^ When, however, we ex-
amine these doctrines of Porphyry a little more
closely, we do not find a very intimate connection
between them and his philosophy. He merely
adopts them as popular opinions, in which he does
not venture to deny his belief. Indeed his philo-
sophy is not favourably disposed to the worship of
even the national gods, and forbids all animal sacri-
fice. He professes his reverence for a supreme and
pure God ; and the religious worship, which alone he
would wish to see, consists of pure words and ])iire
thouo-lits.^^ After he has established it as a moral
precept, that the Divinity ought to be worshipped
by all men after their national customs, he comes to
the doctrine of other gods besides the highest —
which are not merely supra-sensible but even
visible deities, next to whom follow the demons and
other orders of beings superior to man. A reverence
for the divine, which pervades the visible world, gives
rise to the necessity of a worship which allows of
fire being kindled on the altars, but does not permit
of any sacrificial slaughter of animals.'

" De Abat. ii. 38, 39, 41, 43, 47. J'orplivry agrees with Plotimis in re-
garding man's life in the body as an enchantment. lb. i. 28.

'* Ad Marcellam, 18. Sent. .30, unbelief is attsoeiated with sin.
" De Abstin. ii. 34, 3fi, 38.

614 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

The source of Porphyry's indisposition towards
the superstitions of his age lay in the moral
direction of his philosophy. With him, as with
his teaclier, this grew out of his regard for the
power of reason, which is raised above the force of
nature, and the magic influence of the demons.
The flesh has undoubtedly power over man, but
this is only the case when evil is in him, and there-
fore we ought not to impute the blame to the flesh,
but to the soul.^^ The evil in man is undoubtedly
often ascribed to the demons, and the greatest and
most special ill that they can do to man is to pro-
duce in him erroneous notions of the gods ; but
the mind of the philosopher is able to rise superior
to all such passive affections. He stands not in
need of soothsaying, for he is far removed from all
those pursuits to which divination can be profitable.
Wisdom is not dependent on luck or chance ; and
the philosophy which cannot emancipate man from
all passive impression, is of no more use or value
than a profession of medicine, which is unable to
cure the diseases of the body.^' Man, if he would
gain for the soul perfect rest and perfect peace,^^
ought to put off', as he would an outer garment,
not only all those external pursuits, which have
for their object corporeal advantage, but also the
inner garment of desire which looks for such things.
Accordingly, Porphyry has directed all his efforts
to enforce those ethical practices which he judged
to be best calculated to free man from the empire
of his passions. These he regards as the most

" lb. 40; ad Marc. 12,21,24,2!).

" Ad Marc. 31; de Abst. ii. 52. '" De Abst. i. 31.

PORPHYRY. 615

fearful and godless tyrants, from which he deemed
it man's duty to emancipate himself, even at the
sacrifice, if necessary, of his whole body.^^ And
although man cannot entirely divest himself of his
passions, still he can greatly restrain his sensual
desires, and thereby approach closely to similitude
with the gods. On this account Porphyry forbade
the slaughtering of animals and animal food, partly,
indeed, on the ground of justice and compassion,^"
but chiefly with a view to promote abstinence and
self-denial. He asserts that we should come even
still nearer to the gods, were we able to spare the
vegetable world also, and did not require them for
sustenance.^^ As an encouragement to his country-
men, he instances in this respect the practice of the
Jews, to abstain at least from eating the flesh of sacri-
ficed animals ; but, he says, the Egyptians, those
wisestof men, are still more to be praised, who, from a
conviction of their relationship to the other animals,
put none to death for the sake of food, but even set
up their images for public worship as representations
of tlie divine. This ascetical tendency evidently
brought him into hostile collision with the public
practices of the national religion. This objection,
however, he sought to elude, simply by describino-
the actind and prevailing worsliip as a corruption.
He advanced, in the most decided terms, the opiuion
that man, in his age, was very far removed from that
olden purity and innocence of life which prev^ailcd

" Ad Marc. 34.

^ De Abst. iii. 1,2, 19, 26. The animals are related to man, and feel pain.
The erroneous opinion that they are not endowed with reason is ascribed to
human self-love.

■^' lb. 27.

616 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

in the golden age. This golden generation did
not, he says, eat flesh or put animals to death ; and
we ought to imitate them as Pythagoras did.^^

Now if this moral view indisposed Porphyry to
the customs of the national religion, he was ren-
dered equally averse to them by his attempt to
acquire communion with the supreme God. The
philosophy which is to raise man to the Highest, can
secure this end only by proceeding through Reason
and beyond Reason. Man, he says, through a
holy life, attains only with difficulty to a perception of
God.^^ Nothing material must be offered to him ;
for whatever is of matter is impure ; no word, no
thought which bears in it any trace of passion is
agreeable to him. It is, therefore, inexpedient to
speak of him before the uninitiated and in public
meetings, and we ought rather to honour him by
pure silence and pure thoughts, and to contemplate
him in the unimpassioned part of the soul. It is
only to the supra-sensible God that we ought to
to direct our prayers and hymns. ^* Now Porphyry
distinguished four virtues, or grades of virtue, of
which political virtue is the lowest, i. e. the virtue of
a good man who moderates his passions (fieTpio-rra^eia);
superior to this is the purifying virtue, which
purifies from passion the soul of the individual, and
establishes it in apathy. The object of this virtue
is assimilation to God, and by it we may become
demoniac men or good demons. But still greater
eminence will that man attain who devotes his
whole soul to knowledge, and thereby becomes a

2'-« lb. ii. 26, 27; iii. 27 ; iv, 2. " lb. i. 39, 57.

** De Abst. ii. 34; ail Mare. 15.

PORPHYRY. 617

god, and ultimately lives only for reason ; and, ac-
quiring the virtue of reason, becomes like the father
of the gods, one with the One.^'^ Holding such a
view of the highest virtue, the public and esta-
blished worship naturally appeared to him to be in
every respect of little and secondary importance.

Moreover, as the prevailing opinions of his
school must have referred him to widely discrepant
forms of worship, and ascribed to them great im-
portance as connected with divination, with magic,
and with the many other arts of deception.
Porphyry must have found himself involved in
numerous contradictions, partl}^ arising from the
superstition itself, and partly attributable to the
disagreement between it and the philosophical reli-
gion of his school. But the interest which Plotinus
had awakened in him for philosophy was as yet too
vigorous for him to decide otherwise than against
the claims of superstition, and in favour of philo-
sophy. He sought, indeed, to ingratiate himself
with that superstition. He did not dare to reject it
unconditionallv, but lie was nevertheless unable to
repress a doubt of the validity of the assumptions
on which it rested. This fact comes out pretty
clearly in his letter to the Egyptian priest Anebos,
wherein he proposes to him a series of questions on
which lie requires to be satisfied and informed. He
there confesses the difiiculty he has in conceiving
the existence of gods, like the stars, for instance,
who, although they possess a finite body, are yet
indivisible and infiniti; in ])()\ver ; and still more in
understanding how infinite beings should be subject

••* Sent. 34.

618 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

to passions, as is implied by the injunction to appease
their wrath by prayers and sacrifice, and even to
constrain their favour by threats, and by invocations
to invite their presence. How can man call some
deities benignant, and others malevolent? How is
the presence of a god, or an angel, or archangel, or
demon, or archon, to be distinguished ? For the
appearance of all these is described as the same.
Similar doubts are advanced as suggested by the
different modes of soothsaying, since it appears to
him incredible that the gods should, by such trifling
matters as are employed for divination, be brought
to abase themselves to the service of man. It is
also, he says, incredible, that the gods, while their
priests abstain from animal food, should be enticed
b}'^ the sacrifice of animals : that by senseless threats
of disturbing the heavens, of revealing the secrets
of Isis, and so forth, they should be moved to yield
to theurgic arts, and to bring even evil to pass at
the behest of their invokers. What virtue or power
can the unmeaning and barbarous terms possess
which are used in the forms of invocation ? Why
are all these arts employed for such valueless objects
as buying and selling, the solemnization of marriage,
or the discovery of a run-away slave ? These things
do not appear to furnish the true road to felicity.
At the close of the letter Porphyry does not hesi-
tate to avow a suspicion that the Egyptians were in
error as to the nature of the divinity, and as to the
true method of arriving at a union with him. He
suggests the possibility that men had been misled
to adopt these theurgical arts, by the idle imagi-
nations of the human heart, or the contrivances of

PORPHYRY. VINDICATION OF THEURGY. 619

fraiululent and interested individuals, or even of
evil demons, rather than by any real manifestations
of the good demons or of the gods.^^

In short, these were bold doubts for Porphyry to
advance in sucli an age and such a school. By the
expression of them he risked his whole reputation
and authority in his school ; it was impossible that
they should pass unnoticed and unattacked. They
seem to be the effusions of his later years, when,
perhaps, he had begun to perceive that the super-
stitions which he had previously adhered to, and
even favoured, were on the point of transgress-
ing all the bounds of moderation. If, however, he
thought by this publication to repress their ex-
travagance, he must have greatly over-estimated
the influence which such doubts usually exercise.
Moreover, an answer to them is extant, which was
held in high repute by the later neo-Platonists, and is
even ascribed to Jambliclius, the most famous of the
disciples of Porphyry. It is composed with consider-
able skill, and calculated not only to refute the ob-
jections of Porphyry, but also, by an appearance of
scientific method, and especially by its perfect agree-
ment with the principles of neo-Platonism, to furnish
a firm support to the superstitions of heathens in their
widest extent. It is entitled, The Answer of Abam-
non the Teacher to Porphyry's Letter to Ancbos.^^

^ Epist. ad Aiieb. The arguments wliich Tiedemann (Gciat dor spcciil. I'liil.
iii. p. 454) has brouj;Jit against its genuineness are extremely trifling.

" The liypotliesis of Th. Gale, tlie editor of this work, under the title De
Mysteriis yligyptiorum, which lias bcei. adopted l>y many, tliat Jamblichu'* was
its author, rests on very weak (^roun<ls. 'J'liat I'rochis so considered it is of
little weight. Mtiners, on the other lian<i (Comment. Soe. Reg. Getting, vol.
iv. p. .50, 8fif|.), has advanced a stronger case. However, we are convinced that

620 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

It defends almost every practice of theurgists and
magicians, and attempts to reconcile them with the
principles which the neo-Platonists held on the
worship as well of one supreme God, as of gods
pure and removed from all evil. One of the most
common fallacies which it employs for this purpose,
and which, in fact, is one of the loosest application,
is drawn from the argument that all the objections
advanced against theurgy, and the ideas of divine
things which such practices imply, rest simply on
the mere notions and deductions of the human
understanding, which, however, are not validly ap-
plicable to the perception of the divine. ^^ The
author of this answer denies that any distinction
may be drawn by man with regard to the respective
natures of gods, demons, and other superior
orders of being, although at the same time he was
unable, naturally enough, to abstain from such a
course. The objection of Porphyry, that theurgy
implies that the gods must be passively affected by
obedience to the practices of the theurgists, is met
by the counter objection that this objection implies
a difference between the passive and the passionless,
whereas such a distinction is wholly inapplicable to
the higher essence, notwithstanding that this same
distinction is elsewhere frequently employed with
reference to divine things by Porphyry's antagonist
himself. On the other hand, the doctrine of the
mystical union of the soul with the Good, is herein

it was composed by a contemporary at least of Jamblichus. This is to our
mind clear from the way in which the author defends the doctrine of Plotinus,
that the soul is without passion, whereas most of the later neo-Platonists after
Jamblichus disputed this point.
** De Mysi. ALg. i. 3.

VINDICATION OF THEURGY. 621

extended in such a way that there follows from it
man's mystical union with all hio-her essences for
whose existence no furtlier proof is required, simply
because we immediately experience it.^^ The gods
are not only in heaven but everywhere, and there-
fore they can easily communicate themselves to the
theurgists, and instruct them into their essence
and w^orship. This sublime communication, which
passed from Hermes to the Egyptian priests, and
from them to Greece, is the foundation of the
secrecy of religious worship, and its hidden signi-
fication. ^° It also is the ground of that holy en-
thusiasm in which man no longer lives a mere
animal or even human life, as is clearly shown by
innumerable instances of men who, in the fit of
enthusiasm, are insensible to the burning of fire, or
to wounds inflicted by the sword, or the axe, or the
lance, and find a way through whatis impervious, nay,
pass unscathed through fire and water.^^ The union
with the divine rests essentially on the fact, that the
separate soul is passionless. Thus, even when it
descends into the body it suffers not, as neither do
its thoughts, which are ideas (Xoyoi). In these man
is united with the gods. However, there is no
human thought capable of expressing this intimate
union between God and the soul. He who accom-
plishes divine works is not different from him to

" De Myster. yEgypt, i. 3. MovoiiSioc Si avrHv (sc, rwi' daifiovwv Kai
ripu)ow Kal \l/vxi^v dxpairotj') dvTiXcifijidvKT^ai Stl. lb. iv. 21. "llv Si
avvaivu^ Siaipitnv tt)v tov kunaiovQ uiro tov una^ov^, 'itwq fitv dv rcf
vapaiTt'iirairo uiq ovCfTtpif} ruiv KptirTovoiv yiviov lipap/ioi^ovaai', Si' of t/i-
npoa^iv (t(tT}Kaittv alriag. Daily experience proves more adequately than all
reasoning the truth of soothwiying. lb. iii. .3.

"" lb. i. 1,21. »• lb. iii. 3, 4.

62*2 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

whom his works are directed — that is, from God ;
no difference exists between the invoker and the
invoked, him who commands and him who is com-
manded, the superior and the inferior,^^ In such
wise do the neo-Platonists express themselves in
perfect unison with the Indian philosophy, and thus
they get rid of all the doubts which Porphyry
advanced, and which he drew from the fact that no
power can be ascribed to man as the inferior, over
God who is his superior. It is not the gods, they
argued, that are called down to men, but in the
invocation the man ascends to the gods. Love,
which holds all things together, binds him to them,
there is no passivity either in God or in man. The
only power that the holy names of the gods and
other sacred symbols possess, is simply that of ele-
vating the mind of man. In these operations there
is a divine necessity, which does not differ from the
divine love, which effects that good of necessity
works good to all. Their operation exactly re-
sembles that of prayer, which raises up man to
God. And if, in conjunction with these names and
symbols, corporeal things are also employed in such
holy ceremonies, this is the case only because in
these things there is something besides the merely
corporeal, ideas, for instance, and intellectual mea-
sure and relationship with the divine. Man ought
to remember that the latter is inseperable from the

'^"^ lb. i. 10; iii. 3; iv. 3, YloXv Sif ovv KQilrrov tan to vvvl Xeyofitvov, to
fir) £i kvavTidxJttoQ f] Sia(pop6Ti]TOQ aTroreXuaBai rajroiv Sieuiv tpya, {oavcp
it) TO. yiyvoiitva liw^tv ivtpytla^ai, TavTOTrjTi ci Kal Ivuati Kai ojioXoyi^
TO Trdv tpyov iv avrolg KaTop^ovaSrai. idv fiiv ovv KaXovv fj KaXov/iivov
rj tTriTciTTov ^ iiriTaTTOfiivov fi Kpiirrov f; x^^P^v Siaipaifitv, Ttjv tSiv yevi-
ottxtv iTcl TO. Tuiv Sn&v aykvvriTa aya^d /iiTaipspofxev nuig svavnortjTa.

VINDICATION OF THEURGY. 623

former, and that therefore tlie immaterial is in an
immaterial manner present to the material ; from
whence it follows, that there is a pure and divine
matter which the gods have prepared for themselves
as their appropriate abode. Man must put faith in
the mystical doctrine that the gods have provided
man with a particular matter which theurgy selects
for the construction of temples, the making of statues,
and other holy purposes, in order to force the gods
to deign their presence and manifestation to man.^^

These propositions alone, clearly indicate that the
author of this defence of the mysteries was anxious
indeed to maintain himself in the pure elevation of
a rational worship of the Deity, but that, with a view
to maintain in the fullest extent the value of theur-
gical practices and the popular opinions on religion,
he relapsed into somewhat gross, not to say supersti-
tious ideas. It is exactly this mixture of truth with
falsehood that constitutes the perplexing speciousness
of this work, '^i'his will appear plainly from a con-
sideration of its more positive assertions. The
object of the work is to elevate every religious rite
to a pure worship of the Deity, and at the same time
to exclude every unbecoming notion of his nature.
And this object is expressed in general by the at-
tempt of the writer to explain the rites of religion
as a purely human contrivance, by which man seeks

'■" lb, i. 12,14, ].'>; V. 23. ^KWufnrii rotvir Kara tovtov tIiv Xt'tyov Kal
toIq iiTxuToiQ ra TrptLriffra Kai irdpiqTiv avKutQ roTf ti'i^Xotc t" avXa. fir\
Sr) r«c Bavnal^tTut, lav Kai v\;;i/ rtvd Ka^apav Kai ^fiav tlvai Xtyw/itv. . . .
mi^ta^ni ci xc) ''""'C anuppiiToiQ Xoyoif, oiq Kui ?td rwi' fiaKnpiwv ^la-
fiarwv v\r) rig s»c ^tUv iraQaciloTUL, avrr) (i'ittov (Ti'iiipvtjt; iariv avroic;
Ikuvoiq roic CiCovttiv. oukovv Kai t) Tiji ruiavrt)^ '''X»;c ^viria dviyiipu
rove ^tovQ iirl tt)v tfjLtpacnv Kai TTpoKaXiiTai tv^iojg TrpoQ KardXtf-^iv, X<^ptt
rt ai)TovQ napayivofiivov^ Kai riXtiwQ iTriSiiKvvtri ; lb. 26.

624 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

to raise himself up to the godlike, but in which no
action or passion of the gods is to be supposed to
enter ; for they continue for ever, and from eternity,
in immutable perfection. This view is so firmly
maintained by the author, that it has enabled him to
improve the doctrine of Plotinus, by substituting, for
his doctrine that the One suffered the world-creating
Reason to issue out of itself, that the first god and
king had spontaneously beamed forth outof theOne.^*
Whenever, therefore, displeasure or propitiation of
the gods is spoken of, nothing else is to be understood
by these respective terms than, on the one hand,
man's blindness, which alienates him from them ;
and on the other, his ability to return to them, and
to receive again the gift of their eternal goodness.^"
In another passage, however, it is admitted, with
something like inconsistency, that out of compassion
for the trouble of their worshippers, and from love
of their creatures, the gods give to the worthy their
due.^° The writer of this treatise refuses to admit
that the demons are corporeal, and he employs a very
tortuous ingenuity to show that the visible gods, the
stars for instance, must not be supposed to be cor-
poreal. They are not, he says, comprised by, but
they comprise bodies ; the heavenly, ethereal body,
is of nearest affinity to the immaterial essence
of the gods ; the stars are in a certain degree incor-
poreal, since the divine form is the predominant
principle of their nature. He did not dare abso-
lutely to deny the existence of corporeal gods, since

** lb. viii, 2. 'Atto Se tov ivoq tovtov 6 avTapKTjg Otbg eavrov sSe-
=*' lb. i. 13. ^ lb. iv. 1.

VINDICATION OF THEURGY, 625

the books of Hermes treated even of ethereal and
empyreal gods, and so he did not scruple to admit at
last that there are both material and immaterial gods ;
to the former of whom material sacrifices must be
made.^'^ Having gone so far, he could no longer
resist the pressure of superstition, and he tells many
wonderful stories of the awful appearances of the
gods, demons, heroes, souls, angels, archangels,
and archons, and of the consequences which, accord-
ing to their respective ranks, these superior intelli-
gences produce ; of the corporeal and mental advan-
tages which their manifestation entails upon those
who had invoked their presence ; and of the evil,
punitive demons, whose good-will man must care-
fully propitiate. All their manifestations are real
and reveal a reality ; delusive appearances do, how-
ever, occur, when faults or mistakes are committed in
the theurgical forms.^^ Naturally, theurgy is an art,
and therefore it must not omit to put men on their
guard against all spurious and unqualified pretenders
to the same dignity. Accordingly, we are taught
that it is not every so-called art of magic and divina-
tion that deserves the name, but that it is expedient
to revert to the earliest tradition of the gods, and to
follow the most ancient forms, even though they mny
be unintelligible. Above all, it is necessary to guard
against the love of change, which is characteristic of
the Grecian mind ; the barbarians are less fickle,
and on this account beloved by the gods ; but even
the pious Egyptians have not in all respects main-

" lb. i. 16; 17. Tpoirov rivd affiifiaroi. v. 14; viii. 2.
*■' Of these things the whole of sec. ii. is full- The evil demons are treated
of in sect. iii. .SI.

IV. 2 s

626 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

tained the olden traditions in their purity, and in
some points the practices of the Chaldees are to be
preferred. ^^

If any one should object to the author of this
treatise that in such works of theurgy as he recom-
mends, he departs from the pure worship of the
Deity, such an objection would not silence him ; for
he would remind the reader of the wants and im-
perfection of man's nature and his position in the
world. The pure worship of the pure gods is in
truth appropriate to such as with supra-mundane
capabilities has united himself with the gods, who is
out of the body and entirely soul ; but that, which
is suited for such, is by no means fit to be prescribed
to all. To attain to such eminence, is the rare lot
of one only, or of a few at most, and it is not at all
times that even such men can hold converse so
high with the immaterial gods. Moreover, it
is impossible to arrive at this purity of worship,
except through the lower grades of theurgy. ^°
According to the ritual of the priests, man must
commence with the worship of the material gods ;
otherwise it is impossible for him to rise to the
immaterial. In this impure body, man requires
corporeal benefits which the immaterial gods, who
are far removed from all corporeity, cannot bestow ;

^ Tb. iii. 13; 26; vi. 4 — 7; vii. 5. ^vaii ya.^"EWr}vkQ iltn veutripoiroioi,

K.T,\.

''° lb. V. 14, sqq. Kara ^i rriv tuiv iipewv rix^r^v dpxtaQai XP") ''•^'^
i«j00i'|oyiaii' cnrb Twv vXaiwv, ov yap av dWijjg iVt tovq duXovg Oiovi;
ykvoiTO r) avajiaaiQ. lb. 20. Ov Sil Si) to tvion /loXig'Kai 6\pk vapayi-
vojxtvov ini T(f rkXn rfjg 'upaTiKijC tovto koivov ciirofaivtiv irpbg liirav-
TUQ avQpiiiTTOVQ, dW ovSe Trpog roiig dpxofitvovg rijg Gtovpyiag TroitlaOai
avToxp/jfia KOIVOV, ovSk Trpbg jxtaovvTag ev ainy. Kai yap ovtoi dfioia-
yeTTojQ ffcofiaroiidfj iroiovvrai. n)v kTrifuXtiav rrJQ ocrioTtiTog.

JAMBLICHUS. 627

to participate in these benefits, man must apply to
the corporeal g'ods, who require to be worshipped
with material sacrifices and customs. Thus, then,
has this pliilosopher invented a very different method
from that of Plotinus, for the attainment by man of
a union with the supreme God. With liim theurgy
is the only true road to happiness/^ Man ought
not to leave unworshipped any of the lower gods,
nor even any of the powers which go in their train. ^^
The demons carefully watch over the mysteries,
as originally containing the connecting bond of the
whole mundane system. By these, man may arrive
at a real union with God. Philosophy, it is ex-
pressly said, is unable to furnish this blessing ; it
is even denied that human thought is necessary
for its attainment; for even without it, the holy
signs fulfill the work. Man's thoughts cannot
move the gods to reveal themselves ; for the lower
cannot possess power over the superior ; the divine
symbols alone are able to effect this, and this power
they possess, because they are divine.^^

We have found it expedient to enter at some
length, into the ideas whicli form the groundwork
of this treatise, because they are the best indication
of the direction taken by the neo-Platonic school
from the time of Porphyry. If he was driven into
the shade by it, it only threw a stronger light on
his disciple Jamblichus. Of this individual a long

*' Ilj. X. 1. " lb. V. 21; vi. 7.

■" lb ii. II. OvSi yap >/ ivvoia avvuiTTti rolf OtoiQ rove Oiovpyovg.
lirii ri l:KO)\vt tovq OfwpiiriKwg <l)i\oao<j)OvvTag tX"*' '"')'' OiovpyiKijv

tVtOiJlV TTpOg TOVQ OtOVq j VVV Ci OVK t^** ''"'' 7* u\t}Ol:Q OVrojg, «A\ ») TUU

tpyixtv rGiv ctppriTuv Kai vnlp iraauv votjoiv OioTrpurtog ivipyovn'tvwv
TtXiaiovfiyia i} re rutv voovfiivutv roig ^toTg fiovoig avfiftoXaiv atpOiyKTwv

fvpafiiQ ivriOi)ni Ttjv f)iovpyiK>)v n'wtriv Kai yap p.}) i'oovvtoiv

y'lHuiv aiird rd trvvOiniuTa dip iuvrwv C(i^ to oiKilov tpyov.

2 s 2

628 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

and tedious biography has been written by Euna-
pius, from which, however, little can be learned as
to his external circumstances and fortunes. On
this head our information is confined to the follow-
ing unimportant particulars : that he was a native
of Chalcis, in Cselo-Syria ; that he resided for the
greater part of his life in the east, where he had
many followers, and that he died in the reign of
Constantine the Great/^ Such works of his as we
possess were designed to recommend the Pythago-
rean philosophy, but are little calculated to main-
tain his traditionary reputation. The style is
extremely prolix, and bespeaks both the decline
of the art of composition, and the author's great
credulity. In all probability they consisted, for the
most part, of compilations from older works. The
carelessness of his style was blamed even by his
contemporaries, and as to the ideas which he
advanced as the fruits of his own reflection, they
will not exempt him from our censure : they are
utterly void of originality, and little more than
simple traditional ideas. And yet Jamblichus was
held in the highest veneration by his school ; but
this honour he, without doubt, owed simply to his
sympathy with the superstitious spirit of his age.
The greatest marvels are related of him. He is said
to have raised himself by prayer nine feet above
the earth, a golden effulgence shone around his
person, and although he himself declared these
tales to be false, still his expression on the subject
of them clearly indicates that he felt greatly flat-
tered by their currency. ^'^ His scholars relate of

■" Eunap. V. Jambl. : v. JEdes. p. 37. ; Suid. s. v. Ia/i/3Xtxoe.
*^ Eunap. V. Jambl. 'Qq 6 fiev cnr ar t] (j ag vfiUQ ovk rjv dxapi^.

JAMBLICHUS. 629

him, how once upon a time, in the bath he evoked
the demons of two springs and bade them appear
before their eyes/^

With these accounts of his life the statements
which are advanced of his deviations from the
earlier doctrines of neo-Platonism ftdly agree. In
a manner similar to that of the apologist of the
Egyptian Mysteries, but with a more decided spirit
of controversy, he refused to concede to Plotinus
that Reason in the human soul is without passivity ;
for in that case, he argues, it would be impossible
to sin, when with free-will we indulge in sensuous
presentations, and so there would be no obstacle to
man's enjoying a more perfect happiness/^ He
called attention also to man's weakness in this
world of sense, and on this account sought to gain
for him the potent aid of some superior power.
This assistance he found in certain souls which he
supposed to have descended by some unpolluted
way into this world, in order to bring to man sal-
vation, purity, and perfection/" But he was far
from limiting to these the means which man has to
look to for help and safety ; but, in a work on the
statues of the gods, he maintained that each is en-
dowed with a power resulting from the divine pre-
sence witliin it, whether the statue has fallen from
heaven, or had been made by the hand of man/'''
In the same spirit he also spoke of certain jjriestly
virtues, whicli are higher than the so-called essential
virtues, which relate to the diviuc in tlio soul, ;nid

*« L. 1. " Procl. in Tim. v. p. 341 ; Stob. Eel. i. i>. <'lfi4.

** Stob. Rcl. i. p. fjOG— 910. 'H /itv y(i(> (sc. 1^^x17) iirl awriipitf Km K<t^-
diiirn Kai TiXtioTrin Twv ryci Kanoixta dxi'uvrov noit'irai Ku't ti)v Kii^uCvv.
" Phot. Bibl. Cod. 216.

630 SPREAD OF NEO PLATONISM.

unite us with the One.^" With the best disposition
to pass a favourable judgment on Jamblichus, who
was prized in his school as highly as Plato,^^ it
would be difficult to acquit him of the charge
of employing those dishonest arts which partisan-
ship, exaggeration, and the ambition to shine as the
head of a new sect, usually lead to. He appears to
have defended the arts and practices of theurgy
from the same point of view as the author of the
treatise on the Egyptian Mysteries, namely, that
the divine energy extends everywhere. The gods,
he taught, are ever with us, although we are not
always with them ; and, he says, when their birth,
or wandering from one place to another is spoken
of, nothing more is to be understood than that they
have been born for us, or that we have approached
to them.'^^ It is deserving of remark, that, not-
withstanding he composed many works in eluci-
dation of the dialogues of Plato, he yet held his
philosophy in less esteem than that of Pythagoras,
which, in all points, was the subject of his constant
and unconditional admiration. To this source we
may ascribe the attempt which we meet with so

'" Cousin Joum. des Savants. 1835, p. 149, from an unprinted Commentaiy
on the Phaedo. UpocTriBrjaiv 6 ^la/il3\ixog iv roTg Trtpt twv aperiSv, on
ilai Kai UpaTiKai aptral Kara to ^eonS'tg inpiarafitvai rriQ ipvxv^j avrnra-
gtK^ovaui Tracrcng Talc; ilprjiitvaig ovmojBiaiv overate^ iviaiai ck vrrapxovaai.
The word avrnraptk^ovaat. is ambiguous ; as is also oixjiM^kcjiv. The latter
refers probably to the virtue of the vovq, with which the oiiaia is usually con-
joined. In this classification there may perhaps be contained a covert attack
on the above-given view of Porphyry, Sent. 34, since Jamblichus did not admit
that man may be united to the One simply by the virtues of the vovq, but that
he requires, in addition, the aid of theurgy for this object.

^' Besides Eunapius, the emperor Julian and Proclus load him with tho
most lavish praises.

** Procl. in Tim. i. p. 44, 45.

iEDESIUS. 631

often in his writings to arrange the system of things
according to certain holy numbers. Jamblichus
gives a detailed enumeration of a whole host of
gods, which he has divided into different classes ;
in short, he evinces great anxiety to establish a
polytheistic system of theology.^" Thus did the
philosophy of Greece gradually revert to that form
of a theogony from which, in all probability, it
received its first stimulus.

After the death of Jamblichus, the zeal of the
neo-Platonists to establish a system of heathenish
theurgy seems to have abated. Perhaps it was
believed, that all had been accomplished that was
possible in this respect. Moreover, the times had now
arrived when the weak arm of the old tottering state
was stretched out to welcome the Christian religion.
Constantine the Great and his successors favoured
Christianity, which they had adopted, and attempted
by law to put a stop to, or at least to repress, the
pagan ceremonies and magic. '^'* For this reason
Eunapius, a neo-Platonist, and the biographer of
all the most distinguished members of his sect
down to tlie times of the emperor Thcodosius, has
remarked of /Edesius, who was one of the most
eminent of the disciples of Jamblichus and his
successor in the school, tliat he was not in other
respects inferior to his master, although no miracles
are recorded of him ; since, in all probability, lie

'•'* Among the signs tliat the age no longer possessed power to master and
understand the ancient literature is, the striking fact that Jamblichus should
have singled out ten of the dialogues of Plato, as containing the whole of his
system ; nay more, that he could assert the sjime simi)ly of the Tarmenides
and Tima:u3, in which assertion I'roclus concurred with him. I'rocl. in Tim. i.
p. 5; in Alcilj. Pr. ll.Creuz.

" Prod, in Tim. ii. 94 ; v. 2'».0.

632 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

kept those which he did perform concealed, as
generally it was not found good to communicate the
profounder wisdom, except to a few after long pro-
bation and preparatory intercourse.^^ Upon the
accession of Julian, the friend and patron of neo-
Platonism and the old national worship, this restraint
was removed ; and under his Christian successors,
down to Theodosius, toleration allowed to the fol-
lowers of the olden religion the free expression of
their opinions ; nevertheless, during a long interval
we meet with no philosopher of any distinction
who was able to rekindle an enthusiasm for the still
dominant system of philosophy. To judge from
the long series of biographical sketches which
Eunapius has given us, without, indeed anything
like insight into the true character of these times,
and without capacity to throw off a living por-
traiture of his contemporaries, it would almost
appear that the reviving passion for the rhetorical
art, which now put forth a few untimely fruits, had
driven philosophical pursuits entirely into the shade.
This pursuit, however, had an external and more
general object, and that was, the more practical ten-
dency which had gradually established itself in the
neo-Platonic school. The disciples of Plotinus and
Porphyry had confined themselves too closely to
the scliool, to a life of contemplation and asceticism,
to satisfy the demands of an age in which the
olden enlio'htenment and science; and the whole
ancient frame of life, had come into deadly conflict
with Christianity. Men must have become gra-
dually convinced that this dispute must be carried

'•"■' V. ^des. p. 37, Comm.

CHRYSANTHUS. MAXIMUS. 633

on with other arms than those merely of learning and
philosophy. It was only for a while that the theiirgic
arts, which were now in high vogue, could hope to
deceive men ; and even to ensure this brief reign
they must put forth something more than a mere
theory, or the petty tricks of jugglery performed in
secret, but must come forth into a wider stage, and to
ensure any considerable result, enter upon political
life. Remarkable in this respect is the influence
which predictions and premonitory dreams appear to
have had on the life and conduct of Julian. But in
this regard, Chrysauthus, the successor of ^Edesius,
who, in perfectly good faith, investigated the laws of
divination, was of less influence than Maximus, a
member of the same school, and of violent character,
who, it is said, by reason of the grandeur of his nature,
despised all proof in words, but gave his attestations
by miracles, and was able to command favourable
indications of the future.^^ Hence the emperor
Julian found greater delight and satisfaction in
Maximus than in his teacher, Chrvsanthus. If,
however, the doctrine of this school hoped in this
wise to maintain an influence in political life, pro-
digies and divinations were but one of the means by
which it could stimulate niCn to faith and action ;
more generally available for this purpose was poli-
tical eloquence. This found its appropriate avo-
cation not only in the defence of paganism," but
also in the attack of Christianity.'^" This new

'• Eunap. V. Maximi, p. I!.0 ; v. Chrysjmth. p. 1.90.

'^ Proof of lliia is furnislied Ijy tlie discuurnc of I,il):ituis, tfirii> tmv j»()(3i'.
*^ Tliis accounts for the laboura of the (Jliiisliaiis of tliis jitriod to dibtiriguish
themselves in the rhetoriail art.

634 SPREAD OF NEO-PLATONISM.

enthusiasm for oratory gave rise also to the diligence
which the pagans now showed in the preservation
of ancient literature in general ; which appeared to
the philosophers as the appropriate means for main-
taining the divine revelations in their purit}'^, and
giving a becoming exposition of them. In these
efforts, moreover, the Greeks and Romans were in
no slight degree animated by a devotion to an-
cestral institutions, and a pride in the olden renown
of their state and people, all which seemed to be
endangered by the new religion. ^^ It is at once
obvious, that on all these points a new direction,
of a practical nature, would naturally be given in a
short time to the neo-Platonic school, which, in the
case of the emperor Julian, expressed itself in con-
demnation of a solitary life, and the eulogium of the
Cynical or rather Stoical philosophy. He laboured
to collect together all the ramifications of the ancient
philosophy, with a view to oppose it in harmonious
concentration to a foreign and intolerant religion.

^* Of this we find many proofs in the writings and the life of the emperor
Julian, for which I must refer to Neander's work on the Emperor Julian and
his Times.

CHAPTER III.

CLOSE OF THE NEO-PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

This new political direction of the neo-PIatonic
philosophy was not calculated to be of long dura-
tion. It was foreign to its spirit, and was intro-
duced by circumstances only. And these quickly
changed. In practical life this philosophy was un-
able to vie with Christianity : its mission was sim-
ply the preservation of the olden learning, science,
and art. When therefore, in the time of Theodo-
sius the Great, Christianity was perfect master of
the state, the neo-Platonic philosophy became again
a mere matter of the school ; its practical influence
rapidly declined, or at least, was confined to private
life and individual pursuits. It maintained in-
deed, to its close, that theurgical character, which
from the time of Jamblichus it had pre-eminently
assumed, but associated with it a certain proce-
dure, which, in accordance with its character as a
philosophical school, and consisted in the develoj)-
ment of scientific propositions, and thereby vin-
dicated the importance of scientific cniiglitenment
conjointly with that of theurgy. After that Chris-
tianity had, generally speaking, gained the victory
over heathenism, the latter still maintained its
repute among the two classes of society which
stood at the lowest (the pagani), and the highest

636 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

grades of mental enlightenment. With the former
class, as being in general the last to which the pro-
gress of enlightenment forces its way, the love of
what is old, custom, the fact that whatever is new is
to them incomprehensible, and the distrust which
indisposes them to all innovation, co-operated
greatly in producing a stubborn adherence to the
olden superstitions of heathenism. The latter were
influenced by a sense of the value of the enlighten-
ment both in science and art, which they inherited
from their forefathers, but which seemed to be of
no repute in the view of Christianity. These
benefits they could not readily abandon for a reli-
gion which in its actual guise at least, whatever
may have been the case with its principles, appeared
as the enemy of all such advantages. These two
classes of the still lingering adherents of heathenism
were intellectually far removed from each other.
One tie alone united them, and this was the prac-
tice of theurgical arts and the superstition connected
therewith.

The modification of the neo-Piatonic philosophy
to a strictly scholastic form cannot be historically
traced to its origin. It is, however, not improbable
that it took its rise principally at Athens, where
schools after the old Greek model had maintained
themselves the longest, and struck deepest root. It
is not known in what connection the Athenian school
of neo-Platonists stood to that of Jamblichus, whose
seat was principally in Asia. All that we know is,
that in the beginning of the fifth century an Athe-
nian, Plutarch son of Nestorius, had a well-fre-
quented school at Athens, in which he was afterwards

ATHENS : SYRIANUS OF ALEXANDRIA. 637

succeeded by his disciple Syrianus of Alexandria.^
With this individual we are better acquainted by
means of a commentary which he composed on the
metaphysics of Aristotle.^ From this work w^e can
clearly see that his doctrine bore the character of a
regular scholastic formulary. To every proposition
of Aristotle which he seeks to expound, he does
not fail to attach whatever doctrinal position his
own school maintained, to refute those positions of
Aristotle which in his own view were false, and on
the other hand, to confirm his doctrine bv first
principles. He proceeds throughout, on the view
that the principle of contradiction, in the sense that
the same cannot be both afldrmed and denied of the
same, holds universally as a fundamental principle,
but that in the other sense in which it posits as true
either the affirmative or negative of any proposi-
tion, is only valid of things which may be matters
of knowledge, but not of those which transcend
both language and science ; for these admit neither
of affirmation nor of negation, simply because
every assertion with respect to them must be equally
falsc.^ It is obvious, that this explanation attributes
to deductive reasoning, which indeed is indispen-
sable to a school as such, a greater importance tlian
Plotinus g-ave to it. This circumstance will also
serve to explain the high value which Syrianus
set upon the writings and pliilosophy of Aristotle,

* Marini v. Procli, 12.

' We are only able to refer to a Lfitin version by HicronymuH Bn^^olinus of
the 2n(l, 12th, and 13th Books, which as yet are the only one i)rintc<lconiplcte.
A MS. of the Greek text is still extant, out of which Brandis (Scholia Grscca
in Arist. Metaphysial) has piiblishcd several fragments.

• InMetaph. ii. fol. 13. b.

638 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

as is apparent from the great pains, which he has
been at, to prove, that he ought not, merely out of
respect to the authority of this philosopher, to
question the doctrines of the Pythagoreans and
Plato concerning first principles, merely because
Aristotle warmly opposed them. To guard against
such a prejudice in weaker minds, he sets himself
to refute the obiections and arg'uments of Aristotle/
There is nothing further worth extracting from the
writings of Syrianus : they contain in general the
ordinary theses of his school, which he defends by
the usual distinctions against the conflicting views
of Aristotle.

More deserving of notice is his disciple and suc-
cessor Proclus, of whose life and doctrine we pos-
sess more precise informationi His life was written
by his faithful disciple Marinus, who describes him
as a model, not only of political, but also of the
higher theurgical and philosophical virtues. As
this biography, however, bears a strong appearance
of being a mere panegyric of the school, full of
lavish praises of his virtues, in terms borrowed
from Plotinus,^ it fails in conveying to the mind a
living portraiture of the personal character of
Proclus. Nevertheless, we do occasionally catch a
glance at nice traits, which give a more precise in-
dication of his personal and mental character.
Proclus who is usually surnamed the Lycian, as
being descended from Lycian parents, and receiving
his earliest education at Anthus in Lycia, was born
at Constantinople, a.d. 412, and from his father

* lb. xii. Procem. p. 41 a, sq.

^ See the notes of Boissor.ade to this work.

ATHENS : PROCLUS. 639

who was a man of wealth, received a careful educa-
tion, with a view to the profession of forensic
orator3\ But upon the completion of his studies at
Alexandria, he devoted himself to scientific pursuits,
in which his curiosity had been awakened, but not
satisfied, by his Alexandrian teachers. With the
view of prosecuting these inquiries, he proceeded
to Athens, where he was the disciple of the aged
Plutarch, and afterwards of Syrianus. From this
time he devoted himself to the neo-Platonic and
heathen theology, and after the death of Syrianus,
succeeded him as the teacher and representative
of his school.® By his great industry as a writer,
not only of philosophical works but also of hymns ;
by regular observance of religious ceremonies, by
strict fasts, not only at the usual seasons but at
others self-imposed ; by a revival of religious rites,
which in many places had fallen into disuse and
oblivion, and by his controversy with the Christians,
he attained to great distinction, and for a consider-
able period before his death, which happened at a
very advanced age, was looked up to as the main
pillar of the ancient but declining faith. ^ His life
affords proof of the danger incurred by those who,
in those times of Christian persecution of the
heathen idolatry, professed the religion of paganism.
It was only in secret that they dared to celebrate
their religious rites, and the nco-Platonists even
concealed from their scholars the practice of their
religion. Proclus having fallen under sus))icion of
having acted in this respect contrary to tiie edicts

' Marini v. Procl. (i ; H ; 11 ; 12.

"> \h. l:j ; 1.5 ; HI ; 10 ; 22; 2(5.

640 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

of the Christian emperors, was forced to retire for
a while from Athens, and upon his return, appears
to have proceeded with greater caution, in which
he was aided by the position of his residence. It
was on this account that he constantly enjoined on
all the proverb *' live concealed," and did not com-
municate the profounder mysteries of his doctrine
but to the well tried among his disciples, who were
assembled for this purpose in the evening on con-
dition of not divulging the subject of their meeting
(ctYpa^ot avvovmai).^ Thus had this public worship
become the affair of a secret sect. The zeal which
Proclus displayed for the maintenance and diffusion
of the olden religion, was rewarded by many distinc-
tions, not merel}- at the hands of men but also of the
gods. During his whole life he experienced in an
especial manner the favour of Athena, Apollo, and
Asclepius. He was raised to the contemplation, not
indeed of the absolute One, but yet of the supra-
sensible archetypes, and he was not limited to a life
of speculation simply, but by theurgy was elevated
to the higher practical life. His prayers could effect
cures ; and by magic forms and ceremonies he could
call forth fertilising showers, and still earthquakes.
He was frequently favoured with premonitory
dreams ; and in one it was revealed to him, that he
formed a link in the hermetic chain, and that within
him dwelt the soul of the Pythagorean Nicomachus.^
When the Christians were meditating on removing
the statue of Athena, which had till then stood in
the Parthenon, a beautiful woman appeared in a
vision to him, and ordered him to prepare his

« lb. 11 ; 15; 22; 29. ' lb. 22 ; 28.

PROCLUS. 64 1

house for the reception of the goddess.^" His vene-
ration was not confined to the Grecian deities ; but
he was accustomed to declare that tlie philosopher
ought not to be a worshipper of the gods of a single
state or people, but to be a priest of the whole
world. ^^ It is singular that a man who devoted so
much industry to the composition of original, and
the exposition of other men's works, should, never-
theless, have placed so little value on the preserva-
tion of written documents, as to declare frequently,
that if it depended upon himself he would permit
the circulation of no other ancient works than
the Oracles, and the Timaeus, and withdraw all
others from his contemporaries, since they who
read them indiscriminately and without due pre-
paration, derived notiiing but injury from the
perusal. ^^ This, however, is but another trait of
an age weary with tlie weight of years, and unable
to bear the burden of ancient recollections. We
see in it also, a proof tliat it was not the Chris-
tians alone who were anxious to withdraw the
ancient writers from the people; the heathens
of these times were equally tired of them. Tiic}'-
selected a few favoured works from the vast riches
of antiquity, which they cherished and preserved
witli love. But what they thus chose was far from
being its best works, but such as could be most
easily adajjted and reconciled to their own mystical

'• lb. 30.

" lb. 1,'). Tov (pi\6(To<pov iTQOfrrfKU ov ftiac rivbf; iruXiwc, ovSi rwv wap'
irtrir TraTpiwv ilvai^ipmTivrljVfKoivy Sk Tov '6\ov Korifwv \fQO(pavTt)v.

' lb. 38. fin. Eibi^ci li TroXXatctc Kai tovto \iyuv, on kv^^ioq it vr,
fiora av rwv 6ipxaiiiiv airavrwv ftijiXiuv iTroinvv ijifpio^ai rti \uyut Knl
Tiiv 'Viftaiov, 7a (i iiWa i'i<paviCov Ul -riHv vin' av^ptuirojv Ciari Kai (iXair-
Tia^ni ivtov^ Twv eiV"/) Kai aftairavifrrwj iiTvy\,jv6vTtov avToiQ.
IV. -J T

642 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

reveries. Such works, and whatever else was in-
debted for its preservation to the hereditary habit
of the schools, were furnished with lengthy commen-
taries ; but to judge of these, we need only to read
those of Proclus, which are extant in consider-
able numbers, and we shall not find that he has
often hit the true meaning of the ancient writers,
or even displayed a good and honest will to discover
it by a careful examination of their works. They
seem to afford him little more than an occasion for
the exposition of his own opinions, and for fortify-
ing them by their authority.

Upon a perusal of the original works of Proclus,
and especially of his " Institutio Theologica," we
cannot fail to observe in them a constant effort to
give to the whole body of his doctrine a firm co-
herence, by means of a chain of precise and strictly
logical reasoning. Thus, too, in his exposition of
Plato's works, among other objects which he pro.
poses to himself, is that of exhibiting the enchain-
ment of Plato's proofs, and their conformity to the
strict laws of logic ; in which procedure he occa-
sionally stretched the laws of logic to their utmost
extent. In general he seems to have held the view
that the pupil of theology ought to avail himself of
every branch of enlightenment, but the philosophi-
cal especially, as a means to a higher intelligence ;
in that he is to purify himself by virtue, to make
himself master of physics, and by logical exercises
prepare himself for a knowledge of the divine.^^
And even if this ^be also the general doctrine

1* Theol. Pliit. i. 2, p. 4, sq. n^oo yap Tijg ToiavTtjg Iv roTgXoyoig TrXar/jc
(7rdX;jC?) xa^tTj) Kal dnopoQ tariv /) rwv crtiwv yEvJJv icai Tt'ig iv avTois
KaSucpvfiivTjc aXjj^a'ac KaravorjaiQ. ^

pRocLus. 643

of his school, still the extent to Avhich Proclus
enters upon these logical deductions is far beyond
■what we meet with in any of the earlier neo-
Platonists. His object is to construct a complete
system of theology on a train of consequential rea-
soning. He considers, it is true, right method as
being in itself not worth its trouble, but still con-
siders it to be indispensable to science/* With
this view was connected his admiration of Plato,
which went so far as to lead him to boast, as if in
contradistinction to Plotinus, that he desires to be
the expositor of Plato rather than a propagator of
original opinions. ^^ The pre-eminence of Plato con-
sisted, in the view of Proclus, in scientific method of
exposition, which distinguished his writings from
the symbolical Orphic doctrines, and from the figu-
rative teaching of the Pythagoreans.^^ This scien-
tific form does not, indeed, exclusively meet with
his approbation, but he makes its excellence to
consist in this, that it expresses its ideas without
disguise, in which respect the words of divine inspi-
ration alone approximate to it,^'^

But, on the other hand, the praises of mysticism,
which are even more frequent in Proclus than in
Plotinus, present a strange contrast to his logical
labours. Who, he demands, can ever express the
truth of divinity? Man may, perhaps, speak about
the gods, but he can never express what they really
are. Man may speak scientifically, but yet not

'* In Farm. i. p. 29.

*'' In Alcib. Vr.lU, p. 2"2fi, sq. Crcuz. "Iva Irj rov nXarwi'oc <>'/(«»' tKrj-
■yiyroi rai /ii) Trpof iciaQ Lmv^vvwjtiv raQ rov iptKo(r6<pov piimK^. I'lotinus
ia not named, but it is his doctrine that is here controverted.

" Theol. Plat. i. 4, p- 9. " L. I,

4) T O

644 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

rationally.^® Now such a view evidently makes the
scientific inferior to the rational. In the same way
that Plotinus praised certainty (jriaTig) as contrasted
with persuasion, does Proclus extol it ; but with
this difference, that lie opposes it to knowledge,
and regards it as a mystical introduction to a divine
illumination. By it man is made to indwell in the
unknowable and hidden unity, wherein every
motion and energy of his soul arrive at rest.^^
This certainty or faith is expressly distinguished
from the reliance on general ideas, by which we
become cognizant only of individuals, but are not
united with the One. The Good is that wherewith
faith unites man ; it is the highest certainty; we
place confidence in it in the way that we place
reliance on truth-speaking individuals. It leads
many to works of theurgy, which is better than any
human wisdom, and comprises all the benefits of
magic, purifications, initiations, and all the ope-
rations of divine inspiration. ^° This faith, he said,

^* In Tim. ii. p. 92, fin. Oi^x' i^ai TroWa Kai inpt rov Sriiitovpyov Kal ireol.
Tuiv dXXwv Sttwv Kai virip rov tvbg avTov Xiyofnp ; iripi aiiTwv fiiv
Xiyoiiiv, aiiTo ck iKaarov ov Xtyofitv Kai f Trtorjj/uoi'ticwf ftiv SwdficBa
Xsytiv, voipwg Sk ov.

" L. 1.^ in Alcib. Pr. 18; Theol. Plat. i. 25. Ti oiv rifiag ivwan irpijQ
avTo ; tI rijg iPipytiaQ Travaii Kai Kivriattog ; . . . . a>; ftiv to oXov tliriiv
tCjv SritLv TriffTig iariv i] irpbq to ayaBbv apprjTwg ivi^ovaa tcI Sftwv yivrj
aupTTavTa Kai daifiovtvv Kai i/ziixwi/ rdg licaifiovaQ. £ti yap ov yvwariKJjQ
ovSk aTiXwQ TO ayaibv iTri^rjTiiv, dXX' tTciSovTag iavrovg Tip ^iiiii (pwri
Kai uvaavTag ovTuig tvicpvia^ai Ty ayvaxJTip Kai Kpvipicp tSiv bvTiov evaci
Tlie following is the classification of ideas which he proposes, both here and in
Alcib. 16, p. 51,8q. : goodness, wisdom, and beauty, to which respectively
correspond f;iith, truth (philosophy), and love.

■■''' Theol. Plat. 1. 1. Kai tovtuiv (1. tovto, sc. to dyaSroy) pdXtrrra Tolg
sixnu ("nracn niarov .... dvayKalnv dpa Kai rov piv (piXaXi'i^ri -kiotov

llyai, Tov Si TTKJTbv iig (iiXiav ivdppoaTov Ta Ci cid -7]g ^covp-

yixijQ ovvdpiwg, i] koiittmv iirriv dirdiTrjg iv'^pwrrii rjg nux^poivvrig icai

PROCLUS. 645

cannot, however, be regarded as rational. It is, there-
fore, to be observed, that Proclus attempts to show
tliat the union with their orioin, which all thino^s
strive after, cannot be accomplished by rational
thought, nor by the energy of the essence ; even be-
cause, as all things must be partakers of this union,
it is shared by those also which are deprived of cog-
nition and energy.^^ It is apparent, that Proclus
has here in view a very different union from that
which Plotinus felt himself justified in conceding to
the pure Reason alone. It is not merel}^ through
their knowledge, but their existence also (uTrap^tc),
that all things are in union with God.^^ This vague
idea, existence, implied to the mind of Proclus
something more elevated than reason, and by it he
plunges deep into that mystical theurgy which the
later neo-Platonists had raised to such importance.
He had, moreover, a full faith in the miraculous
virtue of the names and symbols of the gods.^'^

Nevertheless, all these mystical propositions have
but little influence on the scientific form of expo-
sition adopted by Proclus. In treating of these
things he j^roceeds without restraint syllogistically,
and talks both of the One and of the gods, and
higher orders of existence, as if they could be made
objects of science, and their ideas and relations
were capable of being expressed in definite propo-

iTriTi)\\ri(ioTiaa ra ri rrjc fiavTiK7]i- uya^a Kal to. ttjc Ti\i(Ti<)VpyiKijs
K(i^i'f)TiK(\c Cvva/jiiig Kai iruvTa uttXiIxj t<1 tTiq iv^iov Kara»:a»\'»7c ivip-
yi'lfiaTa.

^' II). i. ?}, p. o, Kf|.; ii. 1, ]'. It'i, fin.; 4, p. OG. 'V.ttu Ktti tA yviliaiwQ
ufinipci nji Trf)t!iTii> rjvi'j'ii'Mrai Ka't rd 7r«T»/c inpyiiai; triTt(>i)n'(v(i inTi\ti
Kara Tr]x> avruJv retail' r//f ^rjicif; ni'iTu (tuvaijiiji^.

^^ I li. i. 25. KaJ ro fi'iv votlv dil)ii]fni> (sc. >/ i/'"X'7) *'C '"')'■ tavrfjr iijrfi/ijiv
(ivricpaiinutja. lb. iii. 7, p. 1 ;].'{; in A!cih. Pr. (12, p. 24 7.

" Cf. Thfol. Plat. i. 29; in Cratvl. Gl), p. 3^., sq.

646 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

sitions. He therefore does not hesitate to apply to the
consideration of entity all the relations of thought.
Thus each order of the First has in a peculiar
manner the form of the One immediately higher,^^
just as every notion is limited by the next higher.
Hence he concludes that the nearer a monad is to
the First One, and the higher, consequently, it
stands in the order of monads, the greater must be
the extent of what it comprises and produces out of
itself, and the greater, consequently, must be its
potentiality : on the other hand it has less of the
multiplicit}^ of species, and is more simple. Hence
the magnitudes of potentiality and properties are in
inverse ratio; while those of simplicity and poten-
tiality are identical ;^^ — a view which fully agrees
with the relation of the contents and comprehen-
siveness of a notion.

It cannot be denied, that by this notional and
syllogistic exposition the doctrine of Plotinus has
acquired a greater precision than that of any of the
neo-Platonists. It is very far, however, from
gaining thereby a greater internal consistency.
The arbitrary positions fiom which, in several
sections, the argument proceeds, the notions which
Proclus adopts traditionally from the earlier philo-
sophy, and from his own theological views, do not
admit of a consistent line of reasoning. At first he
appears to wish, in his theological institutes, to
proceed after the manner of the Eleatae. His
arguments, after the manner of those ancient dia-
lecticians, set out from perfectly abstract notions,
such as that of the One, the Perfect, and so forth.
Suddenly, however, the procedure is changed, and
the idea of the One and the Perfect is associated

•'* Inst. Theol. 112. ■'■' lb. 25, .',7, 62; Theol. Plat. iii. 1, p. 125.

PROCLus. 647

witli that of the creative, or what brings into
being (jrapayov), and we are brought to perceive
that in the One there is, by reason of its perfection,
a superfluity of potentiality by which it permits the
second to issue from out of itself; which process,
agreeably to the fundamental principle of the
theory of emanations, is then carried on to a last
efflux. ^^ In the working out of these principles,
there is nothing peculiarly novel to call for notice.
There is one point only to which we are anxious
to direct attention. In order to designate the
First, Proclus, like Plotinus, avails himself of the
ideas of the One and the Good. His arguments,
however, attach themselves to the former rather
than to the latter. When, however, he would call
attention to the fact, that these ideas do not express
properly the nature of the First, but are derived
from man's relation to him, his striving to attain to
him, he gives it to be understood that the notion of
good possesses an analogical and positive signifi-
cation ; whereas that of the One is simply nega-
tive. ^^ By this observation he probably intends to
signify that it is only by simplification, and putting
off'all multiplicity, that man may hope to attain to
God. Hence it follows also, tliat his deductions from
the notion of the One are but merely negative results.
On certain points Proclus has deviated from
Plotinus, and these seem to demand our notice.

'" Inst. Theol. 27, in, Uav to irapaynv ^iti rt\ti6r»jra Kai cvPafiiiuf:
irtpiovfjiav jrapaKTiKov iffrt rui' Civripajr. Tlicol. I'lat. iii. 1, p. 1 1.0.

^ Thcnl, Plat. ii. 4, p. 96. Avo H r»7c di/ocov Tpunovc cKJiOplZofiiv ry
fiiv rayajov irpoai]yopiq. rr/v (ed. rov) lid Tt'n: avaXoyiac avvdiTTOVTiQ^
ru ci rou ivoi; Tt'/v iiti rdv uiTo:\)aan> v.

048 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

Proclus, in agreement with the rest of his scliool,
assumes that every emanation is inferior to that
from which it emanates ;^^ which assumption, as we
have already observed, implies a graduated division
of forces proceeding to infinity. Consequently
Proclus has proceeded more consequentially than
Plotinus, in that he has admitted not only that
Reason and the Soul pass into several rational
beings and souls, but that the Divine also divides
into several gods or divine unities. ^^ Such an
admission necessarily had its difiiculties, for Ploti-
nus, who sought to maintain the absolute unity of
the First, and its total freedom from all multi-
plicity as furnishing the distinction between it and
the multiplicity of Reason and the ideas. But with
such a view, the plurality of gods could only be
conceivable as a plurality of spirits or souls, by
which conception the dignity of the gods was
lowered. Consequently it was perfectly conforma-
ble to the tendency of the neo-Platonic school, if
Proclus, boldly disregarding the scruples of Plotinus,
should without further hesitation assert that God
simpl}^, as the original of all, must necessarily pro-
duce a multiplicity which should be cognate to
himself, and, agreeably to its distinctive properties,
should be divine and unitary. ^*^ This view connects
itself very appropriately with the manner in which
Proclus proceeds to derive logically the inferior from

^^ Inst. Theol. 7. » lb. 6-2; 113.

^' lb. 113. El' dpa tan TrXijOog Qiwv, tvuiiov iari to t[\7j9oq, aWd
fti.v on tan, SriXov UTrip nav aXriov dpxiKuv oucilov 7r\fi9ovQ ■fiyi'irnt
Kill ofioiov ngoQ avrb Kal avyyivovg. Theol. Plat, iii. 1, p. 121.

PROCLUs. 649

the superior. For all the kinds, which stand under
the divine, are naturally of a divine nature. But to
this again the gradual deduction of the emanations
attaches itself, inasmuch as the different kinds of
gods stand in a certain subordination to each other,
on which point Proclus approximates to the views
of Jamblichus, and distinguishes the gods into
supra-mundane and mundane, conceivable and con-
ceiving.^^ In this way the lower is brought into
connection with the higher by means of an infi-
nite multiplication of grades ; for in the subordi-
nate deities higher and lower gradations are again
assumed, so that the series of them appears in-
calculable, and then again arises the series of
demons, which holding a middle position in the
system of the world, and thereby connecting the
whole together without change, is itself carried
through innumerable gradation. ^^ Now Proclus
insists that tlie grades of things should be strictly
determined, and therefore severely censures those
who explain the souls to be migrated demons, since,
he says, the essence cannot he changed by any
chanse of condition. ^^ Nevertheless, Proclus was
unable to carry out, with logical strictness, this
attempt to establish a rigorously notional division.
For he admitted that the hin^hest demons are them-
selves, by reason of their predominant resemblance
to the gods, rightly so called, and that generally

" In Tim. V. p. 29f); in Parm. 1, in.

" In Alcib. l'r.'2l. llXi'iGoc . . £aifx6vu>v afivQijTov ra ^i n'laa

rCjy £aifivvotv yivt] ffi'/x7r\»j()0i rd o\a Kai avycn Kai rrvvixn rijv koi-
Vtov'nv avTuiv fitTt^iTai fiiv tujv Oiuiv, iitri\nfiu'i) (/Jtr«\i')^U'rt ?) Si
v,rd riuv ^vijrwv. xxii. (i7, siiq.

" lb. xxi. 70.

650 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

the first in every order, preserves the form of the
superior order.^* This is the only way in which he
believes it to be possible to establish a close enchain-
ment of the higher with the lower. ^^ But the con-
fusion of ideas in this doctrine is further increased
by the position that the first reason as well as the
first demon is also a god,^^ from which we might
perhaps be disposed to believe that in the mind of
Proclus the rational and the demonic were the
same, did not his division of the latter contradict
such an opinion.^'^ In fact, his doctrine of the
demons is as it were an interpolation into the
scientific division of the divine effluxes, which he
adopted as it was transmitted by Plotinus, enforced
by the authority of his school and its agreement with
the mythology of Plato. The absence of a careful
attempt to connect it with the rest of his system,
certainly furnishes a proof that all his logical art is
but the cloak of his own caprices. It did not prevent
him from mixing together at will all the most im-
portant notions of his system. Thus, according to the
logical and notional arrangement of his system, the
gods cannot be either Reason or Soul ; every god is
above essence, reason, and life ;^^ and then, again, on
the other hand, Proclus speaks of a reason which,
however, although it is not the supreme incom-
municable Reason, is one in which the souls of the
gods participate.

lb. xxii. 71. 'Qf yap KaO' oXov (pcivai Trdfftfg ra^toi^ to Trpuiriffrov
(TivZii TT/v Toii Trpb tavrov fioptprjv. lb. hi. 158.
'' Inst. Theol. 21, 111, 112.

lb. 112; in Alcib. Pr. xxii. 71. Kai yap vuvq 6 ttoojtkttoc avroOtv
Otoe.

*" In Alcib. Pr. 22.

'' Inst. Theol. 115. ^s j„ j^^^^^^ p^ j.;^_ g^^

PROCLUS. 651

From such loose and indeterminate expressions,
which are not always quite consistent, it is difficult
to ascertain the real end which the author had in
view to establish ; nevertheless one point appears to
be certain, and that is, that Proclus was much more
disposed than Plotinus to represent the condition of
humanity and the power of human reason as mean
and low, and requiring extrinsic aid. As we have
already seen, the Reason, according to Plotinus, is
incapable, either by cogitation or any other energy,
of uniting us with God ; it is nearly related indeed
to the One, but nevertheless many gods are between
Reason and the One. The noble boldness of his
own mind had led Plotinus to describe the Reason
in its highest excellence, when free from passivity,
as able fully to contemplate the One ; but since he
ascribed this perfection of Reason to man and the
Soul, he fell into manifold errors, which perhaps
were inevitable in the theory of emanations. These
errors Proclus adopted, and drew from them the
means of establishing a direct contradiction to the
theory of Plotinus. The latter had ultimately based
his theory on the broad distinction of the corporeal
and the incorporeal; and by it he believed himself
justified in positing the reason and the soul as
absolutely unaffected by the affections of the body.
This contrariety Proclus maintained as firmly ; he
even sought to determine it irrefutably by making
the property of the incorporeal to be the faculty of
turning back upon itself, or of reflecting, wliich
does not belong to body, as liaving separate and
independent parts/" Tliis view is also the founda-

Inst, Theol. xv. Tlav ri npitQ iuvTv iTTtarpiirriicdv uaufiaTov larty

652 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

tion of his proof of the soul's immortality, in which
he argues that every essence which has the faculty
of turning back upon itself, if it be united with
something beside itself, with a body, in short, can-
not be united to it inseparably ; for in such a case
the reflective faculty would remain in that with
which it is united as an independent faculty, inas-
much as it has no reference to that whereunto it is
united/^ Nevertheless he at the same time admits,
that the corporeal does in a certain measure par-
ticipate in the soul, which is naturally influenced
by it, Hence, as he says, the soul is undoubt-
edly in its essence self-moving, but in consequence
of its participation in body it partakes also in
some measure in imparted motion/^ Consequently
it was only natural that, with such a view, Proclus
should have regarded the destiny of the soul as not
absolutely independent of that which is without
it. He does, it is true, oppose all such systems
as made human happiness dependent on external
advantages; for these, he said, are equivalent to
making the condition of the shadow to have an
influence on the well-being of the substance/^ He
did, no doubt, deny that the material has any force
and weight;*^ but he would not be understood as

oidkv yap Twv awfiuTUJV npoc iavTo ^{(pvKSv iTZKjrp'Kpdv, k.t.X,
lb. {!."5.

*' lb. n2 nSv aiTWfiaTov Trpog tavro iTnarpnrTiKhv ov vtt' dWwv

fxiTixofiivov x'^OKTTWQ ^trt^^frai • £t yap a;^ttipt(Tra;c:, »/ ivipyeia avrov

Or/C t(TTal XOjpiGTt) TOV flir'iXOVTOQ, faiff— fp OVC't 7) ovdia. ti St TOilTO, OVK

iTriarijixl/ei npbc iavro, lb. 171; lUG; 187; 1R9.

*^ J u Alcib. Pr. Ixxvi. 225. Kar' ovaiav fi'tv yap iariv auroKivtjrog t)
•6i\n, KOivwvriaaaa Ci riii atii^iari fiiricxf- t^^Q riyc trfpcKivJjfftwf .

*■• lb. XXXV. 107.

*' lb. Iviii. 1C4.

PROCLUS. 653

maintaining thereby that man, or the human soul,
is without passion. On this point he expressly
impugns the doctrine of Plotinus and his disciples,
and censures it as an incorrect exposition of the
Platonic principles. How, he argues, could tlie soul
commit faults and sin, and again raise itself to the
divine, unless it and its reason and its free-will did
from its union with body partake in passivity, if it
were not in the temporal and took to itself a ma-
terial garment and put it off again at certain fixed
periods?*^ Consequently, he found it impossible to
assent to the doctrine of Plotinus, that the soul which
comes into the world does not wholly descend,*^ but
that its reason, as it were, still remains in the pre-
sence of the o;ods. This viesv was intimately inter-
woven with his own theological system. It has led
him to suppose so close a connection between all souls
in their mundane life that the sins of one pass over
to others, and children are im[)licated in the guilt
of their parents, and subjects in those of their
sovereigns. This view he founds on the assumption
that the mundane system forms a living unity, in
which there are again other smaller unities which
are separate, and perfectly constituted in themselves,
so that it is only just, that the individual members
should equally share tlie consequences of their acts
as a body."*^ Proclus had an idea very similar to

*' lb. Ixxvi. •2'J7. Oure av iKiivov^ (sc d7roct5o;«t0a roi'c Xoyovz'j, orroj
/iepoc yiiv tlvai rrjq 9iiac oiffiac Xkyovci ri/v \l/vxn^j <i/iOiov Sk rif '6\<i>
TO /lepor na'i ail rtXtinv, top Si Ooiutftov iir<u Kal tu -rrodi) -nun to 'O^ov.
In Tim. v. 341; lii.st. Tl.eol. 1.90; i;»fJ- 200. U. in AKib. 4!!.

*' Inat. Tlifcol. 211. Tliis was n point of disjiulc for the Irbt iLijs of the nco-
Pl.^tonic philosophy. See Creuzcr, ud 1. ) .

" Dubit, Circa Provid. ix. 168, sqq, cd. Coua.

654 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

one which we have already met with in the Vedanta
phih)sophy, according to which the soul is invested
with several envelopes, which it cannot put off
except gradually and successively ; it is in certain
definite periods only that the soul can develop this
process of its life, in which it rises the higher, the
more of these outer investitures it has got rid of "^^
This liberation, however, the soul cannot attain to by
its own activity alone, but it must be aided in it by
demoniac assistance/^ Thus does the soul assume,
in the doctrine of Proclus, quite a different position
from what it had assigned to it in that of Plotinus ;
it is represented as more imperfect and more in need
of external aid.

There is, undoubtedly, in all this, an approxima-
tion to the teaching of actual experience. Neverthe-
less it is connected with the general principle of the
theory of emanations, and with the theological views
of Proclus. It requires to be especially noticed
that the doctrine of Proclus evinces a disposition to
enhance the idea of the Soul above that of Reason,
whereas that of Plotinus conversely tended to merge
the notion of Soul in that of Reason. The former
tendency showed itself in the explanation which
Proclus gave of the incorporeal by the reflex ac-
tivity, in connection with which exposition is the
thesis, that whatever is in a reflex activity is to be
supposed to be more imperfect the nearer it is to
the commencement; and the more perfect contrari-
wise, the nearer it is to the end.^° This is the

♦9 Tn Alcib. Pr. 48; Inst. Theol, 209.

^•< 111 Alcib. Tr. 89. 280, sqq.

'° Inst. Theol. 37. TiavTOJV twv Kar' iiriOTpoipriv ixpiffrafiiviov rd irpwra

PROcLus. 655

natural consequence from the doctrine of the ema-
nation and return of all things. From it, moreover,
followed the assumption that all incorporeal things
are in a gradual development, which, however, ac-
cording to the views of the neo-Platonists could not
in truth be ascribed to the pure reason, but only to
the soul. This idea of Proclus, however, would
have been deserving of much consideration if it had
been carried out by him to any considerable degree,
and if it did not stand in direct collision with other
tendencies of his own theory of emanation.

The point on w^hich the essential spirit of that
theory was most opposed to the view of Proclus,
was his attempt to ascribe to each emanation a
precise notion or grade of existence. It was a fun-
damental principle of the view of Proclus, that
\vhatever is produced must possess a certain resem-
blance to that which produced it, but yet cannot be
like to it ; so far as it resembles the producer it
remains within it, but goes from it so far as it is
unlilve to it.^^ No reason can be found why and
how the produced should in any way change its
natural and essential similarity and dissimilarity :
tlierefore we may regard the numerous passages in the
writings of Proclus which speak of the issuing forth
of all tilings from one principle, and of tlieir return
into the same, as in some degree beside the purpose.
And wlien we meet with such an assertion as that
every entity tends to its principle, while we acknow-
ledjre its accordance with the other theses of his

aTtXf<JTi('a Twv ItvTtpiov kk'i n't ttlirtpn tCiv ('i'v';, ''" ^* taxnra rtXuo-
Tttra.

^' Inst. Thcol 2«;30.

656 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

school, we must confess our inability to reconcile it
with his own principle, that everything is, so far as
possible, identical with its principle, and immanent
in it.^^ Thus, however arbitrary were the suppo-
sitions with regard to the ideal world which neo-
Platonism allowed to itself, it was beyond its power
to establish a passage from the one to the other.

But we have now touched upon the point whereon
Proclus deviated the furthest from Plotinus. The
former found it impossible to conceive of a true and
perfect return of the emanated into its principle ;
he acknowledges no such contemplation of the One
as it was the object of Plotinus throughout to lead
to. On the contrar}^ he steadily maintains the
principle of the theory of emanation, that every
lower emanation is not otherwise connected with
the Highest than by the intermediate essence
through which it immediately attained to existence.
Therefore, when he is discussing the subject of the
return of all things into their principle, he explains
it as his opinion that that which emanates through
an intermediate entity from the Highest, cannot
return into the Highest except through the means,
inasmuch as its resemblance is merely mediate.^^
Hence, he says, it is only through the demons that
man is connected with the hig'her.''*

So far we find a perfect agreement between the
doctrine of Proclus and his general principles.

^^ lb. 31.

*■' lb. 38. Kai Tratra iiriaTpo^t] ^la rwv avrwv, h' uv kui >/ TrpvoSoQ,
kTrti yap Si oj-ioioTiiTcig iKdr(^>a yivtrai, to fiiv aixicfu)Q utto nvog irpotX-
9cv Kai tTTtarpaTrrni a^jawc Trpoc avTo- t) ydp oiioiottjq afiian^ fjv.
II). \?,-l.

^* In Akib. Pr. 19, 6 J.

PRocLus. 657

However, we can discover in it the influence of
another motive, which is somewhat incongruous
with his system. Thus, he says, although the One
is not such tliat any part can be had in him by
aught besides itself, yet that every other god is of
such a nature. ^^ From this it consequently follows,
that the One is fully unknowable. The other gods,
it is true, are also unknowable and ineffable, by
reason of their super-substantial unity ; for all that
of which man is cognisant is an existent, but the
divine is above existence : nevertheless, all the other
gods but the One may be known mediately through
that which participates in them; but as nothing
has part in the First, it cannot be an object of such
mediate cog-nition.^^ Thus then Proclus distin-
guishes three subordinate gradations : that in wliich
there can be no participation : that which admits of
participation, and that which participates." But
tlie One is not the only incommunicable, but
there are also a Reason and Essence, in whicli
naught can participate — botli being the highest of
tlieir kind.""® This is manifestly an attempt to
raise the higliest above all relativity.''^ And even

** Inst. Theol. 1U>. Uac Otof fnOiKToc. ian ir\i]v rov t'j'oc. In I'lat.
Theol. iii.7, 133.

*' Inst. Tlieol. 123. Udv t(> Otlov avro jiiv cia ti)v vTrfpovntov Xi'Mrrtv
af)pi]r6v kftTi Ka'i dyvoxrrov TTUffi ToTf StVTtpoig • anu !i ruiv ^fTiX'n'Tiov
Xt]vr6v iffTi Kal yvuiaTov. lib fn'ivov rci rrpwrov TrairfXoic liyxnoiTov,
iirt (ifxiOf KTov ov. iruaa yt'tp t) hd Xoyoi) yvw-Tic rwv oiTwr itrri Kai iv
Tfiir, ormu ixfi '''" '"'Ic f'X/jOfiV/r KnTa\t\nrtK6v, k.t.X.

" lb. -23.

'•" lb. Kifi; in Alcib. Pr. xix. 6.5.

" Inst. Theol. 23. Tii }uv yap uftiDtKriv novi'iCor t\;ov \oyov uir invn v
ov Kai oi'K dWov Kai iiypi]n'tvov rwv fiiTixi'ivra/v I'nroyivv^ rd fjtri-
Xtfffiat ?vvaftiva rb ft fiirix-'-itivov nnv riioc yivn^ivut', iojt'

IV. 2 V

658 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

against this classification, there would be nothing to
object in the spirit of the theory of emanations, if
it did in truth do nothing more than project two
distinguishable sides of one and the same unity ; for
according to his view of the similarity and dissimi-
larity of the emitting and the emitted, that part of
the higher which is not expressed in the lower, must
be looked upon as incommunicable ; and in this
respect every higher order of emanation must be in-
communicable to the lower. But it was not in this
light that he considered the idea of the incommuni-
cable : on the contrary, the One and the Supreme
Reason and the Supreme Essence are wholly and
absolutely incommunicable; in the higher mem-
bers of each of the higher orders he taught,
there is absolutely no state of relation. Now this
assertion cannot, in fact, be reconciled with his
view, that every emanation possesses a likeness to
that from which it proceeded. In another passage,
Proclus expressly advances the principle that the
effect necessarily has some part in its cause, simply
because it receives from it its essence.^° And oc-
casionally he admits, in agreement with the prin-
ciple that all is known by the like, that we all
partake in Reason through Reason, and in the First
through the One which indwells within us, as it
were, the flower of our Essence, through which
we chiefly cohere together with the Divine.^'

ou (xiTixtTai, Tiv'oQ yivonivoi' Ssirepov Itti tov naaiv ofioiwQ irapovroQ
Kcd iravra a<j)' iavTov irXijpwffavrog • to fiiv yup iv evl bv iv rolg dWoic
ovK iariv. Il>. 1 IG.

"" Inst. Theol. "2!!. 'AWd firjv avayK-q rb airtaruv tov cut'iov fiiTty^uVf
oic iKtTOtv f%oi' ri^v ovaiav.

'■^ In A'cib. Pr. Ixxxii '247. 'Q<, yap voxi fitr'^ninv Kara tov tiprm'tvov

PROCLUS. 6o0

This distinction also between that in which
nothing and that in which other participates, evi-
dently affords food to the mystical habit of thought
which Proclus cherished. It was not enough for
him to maintain the mystical view of Plotinus of
the supra-sensible contemplation of the One; such
an intuition appeared to him to have too near a
resemblance to tlie rational cog-itation. On the
contrary, he is disposed to withdraw the highest of
every order of existence from human observation, and
to place it in a sphere which man cannot approach,
without however, venturing to deny to him a Iiope
of ultimately arriving at a mystical relation with it
by means of the intermediate existences, whom in the
spirit of his hcatlien theology, he recommends man
to worship. Thus he admits even of a certain
mystical revelation of the First God, which is im-
parted to man by the mediation of the lower
deities. ^^ And it was with reference thereunto that
we must understand his praise of faith, and truth,
and love, wliich are relative to the three attributes
of divinity, goodness, wisdom, and beaut}'. '^^ By
means of love, wliich is an especial object of his
commendation, every lower essence may be united

voiiv, o'vroj Kcti TOO TTpiorov, iran' ov ■trciatv >'/ yvuitriQ, kcitiI to iv Kal
olov civOnz t7i(^ oiV/af ijfiio}', KaO' o kci'i lu'iXtrTTa Tq) Ouij) nvi'aTrTi>f.it9a •
Ttji ydn ufiomi to o^otov Trtn'Tcixov KaTaXijTrTui'.

*^ Thcol, Plat. iii. 14. Koi yap at Tpt'iQ avrai TpiavfQ [jv(Ttikwc tTrayyiX-
XoDfTt Ti'iv Tf)v nnioTov Qiini Kui (ijiiOtKTov navTiKCi^ ayvuirrriiv n'lTiav.
Wf have not tlioiislit it necessary to f^ive an cxjxKitioii of Pr<)l■lll^^■» iloctriiic of
the three TriniticB, which attaching itself to certain Platonic notions is spun out
to great length. It is part of the learned apparatus of this pbilo.Hophcr, nnd
does not form an essential feature of his doctrine.

*' lb. i. 24, IT); in Alcih. pr. xvi. .")1, S(|f|.; somewhat (lin'erently in Tl.cnl.
riat. iii. xi. 1. ■',<).

6'60 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM.

with the higher. ^^ Proclus does, it is true, advance
the opinion that the supra-sensible, that which is
knowable only by the Reason, requires not the media-
tion of love for the purpose of its ineffable union ;
but the truth is, that this opinion seems to have
escaped him without premeditation ; for in another
passage he advances the directly opposite view, that
by love, the gods also are united with the supra-
sensible beauty, and by it in like manner the
demons are united with the gods, and souls with the
demons.^^

In these deviations of Proclus from the neo-Pla-
tonic school, we see nothing more than a continu-
ance of those movements which had gradually
spread themselves from the time of Jamblichus.
They directed themselves exclusively to the mysti-
cal aspect of the school-doctrine, and attached them-
selves to the theurgic superstitions of paganism,
which now evinced less boldness in its designs, and
withdrew more and more into the retirement of
private life. And this was naturally attended with
this result, that the mystical impulse should confine
itself gradually to the feelings, and consequently
exhibit itself as faith and love. By this the scientific
element of the neo-Platonic system fell more and
more into the back-ground. We have undoubtedly
to remark of the Athenian branch of the neo-Pia-
tonic school, that it highly distinguished itself by its
endeavour, by observing the forms of logical demon-
stration, to give a firm foundation to its doctrine ;
still we cannot conceal the fact, that the internal
value of the thoughts does but little correspond to

" In Alcib. Pr. xvi. 53. •» lb. xix. 6.5.

PROCLUS. 661

the external regularity, and that the subject-matter
and the form of exposition seldom support each
other. This is but a part of the general decay and
dissolution of age, — a sign that the form of the
school is merely a matter of teaching, not the result
of the development of an intrinsic vitality.

If of Plotiniis it can be said that he exercised a
considerable influence on the philosophy of later
times, whether heathen or Christian, the same can-
not be said with equal justice of Proclus. In his
day the Christian philosophy had lost the first
freshness of its youthful vigour; and it was only on
a few mystical excrescences of it, that the doctrine
of Proclus could have had any influence. On the
heathen philosophy his influence could not have
been much greater, notwithstanding the high esti-
mation which he enjoyed in his own school. For
as we have already observed, the sphere of this
scliool was now greatly contracted, and had de-
clined into the watchword of a falling party. Such
is the appearance it assumes in all the accounts
which have reached us concerning it at this date.
These accounts are full of traits of exaggerated praise
or of the petty envyings, wliich are so rife among
the adherents of exclusive sects. ^'^ We see from them
that the scIiool preserved but'a tottering existence
under leaders who were unable to gain the perfect

•' Of. Phot. Bibl. Cod. 181, 242; and the articles in Suidas which relate to
these last days of the neo-Platonic school. All this is undoubtedly drawn from
the life of Isidore, written by Damascius, still it must be allowed to convey the
true character of the school. The judgment of Photius is just. Cod. clxxxi.
212. Iloesch. Unvrwv S' oiovq i^aipii (6 Aa/inTicnc) '<>''.' ^^''7"'C Kal
KOfirrovc rf Knr av9ni'oir:ov <p!itnv Qiial^ti yiywti'ai .... ovk tirriv otov
{ifi KxOnpxTo i<p' UaTTov tJiv daviin^iii'ivmv ftfi ivoitarepov ixitv, k.t.K.

66'2 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATOMISM.

confidence of their party. Of these individuals our
accounts are very imperfect. Among them three
scholars of Proclus, Marinus, Isidore, and Zenodotus,
are expressly named as successively presiding for
a certain period over the school, not so much from
a free choice, as compelled by a fear that otherwise
the neo-Platonic school would have been without a
teacher. In all probability they were conscious of
the w^eakness of their philosophical system, and,
moreover, they did not perhaps regard philosophy
as the highest end of human speculation, for, in
truth, the superstitious belief in marvellous rites,
and the pagan religion was held in higher esteem
by them than philosophy, whose senile decrepitude
they deplored, merely because it was fitted to be
a preparation of mankind for that which is the
higher.^^ Their unwillingness to assume the office
of teacher may have had its origin in the danger
which, as is clear from the life of Proclus and manj'^
other testimonies, attended the holders of it from
tlie persecution of the Christians.

Of the philosophical writings of these men, if
they left any behind them, nothing now survives ;
for all that we know of them we are indebted to their
disciple Damascius, who, in his life of Isidore, has
given us a description of the state of the latest neo-
Platonic school, over which he himself presided for
a considerable period. "^^ From the extracts of this
biography, we perceive the ridiculous extent to which
the passion for the marvellous ruled in this school ;
and how the spirit of superstition gained continually

"' Cf. the opinions expressed by Isidore in Phot. Bibl. Cod. xxiv. 568.
"'* This we infer from his surname AidSox"i-

DAMASCIUS. 663

the ascendancy. Of Damascius, there is a work,
extant on the doubts as to first principles and the
solutions of them,^^ which proves that a spirit of phi-
losophical plodding united itself to superstition, in
order to facilitate and favour the wildest mysticism.
We also recognize in it the characteristic feature of
the Athenian school, the disposition to lose itself in
endless arguments in order to show merely that all
these reasonings are insufficient to furnish an unques-
tionable determination of the first ground of things.
According to Damascius, the first ground of all
things is the ineffable, which does not admit of being
expressed in any definite terms. It is not rightly
called the Prime Cause, the First, the Good, the
Beginning, or the Final Cause, or by any other
term ; the three causes, which are distinguished by
human speech, are not to be posited as three ; it is
only humanly speaking that we call them three.'^"
His whole work has this object, to retract by nega-
tions whatever he has previously advanced affirma-
tively of the principles of things. The procession
of things from out of these principles is not properly
a procession; the soul by its return into the same
dissolves its procession. ^^ All he says must be
resumed again into the unintelligible One. All

'* Published by J. Kopp. Frankf. on Uie Miiine, 18'2G. The continuation of
Proelus's commentary on the Parmenides, which is given to Damascius cannot
in its present form at least be ascribed to him. As to what is still unprintcd,
see Kopp's preface.

'» DePrinc.2, 6, 7, 22, 41, 110.

'* lb. 7'), 107. What Crcuzcr, ad Procl. Instil. Thcol. 211, quotes from a
commentary of Damascius on the Parmcnides uiart aXrjOivu^ 6 nXwrivov
Xoyof, lie 01/ naaa Kuruai i) ypvxr], must be regarded as the doctrine of
Damascius. Therefore it would appear that he rejected tlio distinction which
Procliis drew bctwec-n fiiOfKroi' and uji'Oiktov, Df I'rinc. I. 1.

664 CLOSE OF NEO-PLATONISM."

man's talking is but a confession that he knows
nothing, but must yet raise himself above that of
which he takes cognizance. He calls the ineffable,
nnknowable, from the fact that he invariably finds
that whatever surpasses knowledge is more estima-
ble than the knowable; so that that which is beyond
all knowledge, if it could be discovered, would be
found to be more estimable. If the One is the last
knowable, then that which goes beyond the One is
the wholly unknowable, which, indeed, is so un-
knowable that man cannot be certain whether it be
knowable or not. It is so separate from all else
that it cannot be said in reality to be sepa-
rate; for the end of all human speaking is the
silence of perplexity, and an admission that man
cannot know anything of the unknowable.'^ Thus
did the philosophy of neo-Platonism end in an
unqualified scepticism. What it wished to know it
found to be unknowable, and, at the same time, did
not hesitate to call it such. While it hovered around
an unattainable height it completely lost sight of
the position of humanity, and all the thoughts of
man appeared absolutely incapable of exhibiting the
truth. It despised the eartlily, and on that account
alone it could not gain the heavenly.

"^ lb. 6. Olct yap, on ouk olSiv avro- kcu yap iariv aTrXdic 17 TOiavrrj
yvwatg ovk iKtivov, aWa rrjg olictiag ayvoiuQ. lb. 7. TlwQ yap tKt'vo
dyvwurov XtyofXEV 5 ev't ixtvXoyi^) rif prjOtvri, on dit to vTvip ti)v yvuiaiv
TiLiiojripov iiipiffKOfitv lixSTi TO iiirip uTraffav yvuJaiv, e'nrtp ijv tvptTov,

fvpiOtit] av Ka'i avTo Ti/xiioTaTOv li ro'ivvv to 'iv ix^aTov tori

yviuUTOV Twv OTTUJQ TtOTt yi'uipiZofieriof f] inrovoovji'ivuv^ Kal to tov ivoQ
iTfiKEiva TO TTpuiTwg iffTt Kui irdvTT) dyviiKTTOv, otrtp oiirwc ioTiv dyvwaTov,
i)g ur}dk TO dyvwOTOv fX^'*' ^vcriv, fiT]5e djg ciyvilxsTij) TrpocfjSdWiiv rifidQ,

dyvotlv ci Kat, il dyvwaTov Kai t'i -RkpctQ iaTai tov Xoyow

ttXijv (Ttyrig anr]x<:'ii^ov Kai ojio\oyiaQ tov fi7}£iv yivJxjKtiVj wv firj^i Q'ifiiQ
dcvvurtt)v OVTOJV ii'g yvCxjii' iXOtlv •

EDICT OF JUSTINIAN CHOSROES. 665

This was the termination of the neo-Platonic
school, and therein also of ancient philosophy itself.
In the year 529 of our era, the emperor Justinian
prohibited the teaching- of philosophy at Athens."
This edict appears to have been the cause why the
most eminent philosophers of that day, and among
these Isidorus,'^ Damascius, and Simplicius the
commentator of Aristotle, quitted Athens for Persia.
In their native country, they saw philosophy de-
spised, the olden religion which they professed
under persecution, and a new, foreign, and hateful
worship predominant. They despaired of good to
their country, and the opinions which had long
prevailed in their school taught them to see in the
East the fountain of wisdom, and the seat of holi-
ness of life. In Persia, they fondly dreamed, is a
better and a milder government ; it is rided by
Chosroes, a king and a philosopher, after the prin-
ciples of Plato; and as the government is just, so
is the subject temperate, and riches, though un-
guarded, safe even in the wilderness. Quickl}'-
then did they make for this desired country. Poor
unfortunates, how quickly did they discover their
delusion ! Of all their fond hopes not one was
realized ! Scarcely had they beheld the strange,
cruel, unjust, and luxurious habits of the people ;
scarcely had the king, who though a phil()soj)hor,
was not one of their school, a lover of pleasure
rather than of austerity, — than they were seized
with reuret and a lonuinn: for their home. There

" Joli. Malal. xviii. 187, ed. Oxon.

'* It is a doubt whether this is the above mentioned Isidoriis, wlio in Suid.
8. V. TlvniavoQ, is cilled an Alexandrian, whereas the one here meant is named
from Gaza. Cf. I'ruilier, Hist. I'iiil. ii. 341.

666 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

they preferred to die to living in honour in a foreign
land. In the peace between the Persians and Ro-
mans they were not forgotten, and the safe practice
of their philosophy and religion was stipulated for
and ensured to them/^ But how could they survive
the disappointment of all their hopes ! Confidence
in terrestrial things was now utterly at an end with
themx Heathen philosophy sank into the grave ; at
least after then no further trace of it is to be found
in history.

From this tragical conclusion of ancient philoso-
phy, it is impossible to turn without many a reflec-
tion suggesting itself. What ! this, then, is the end
to which those doctrinal systems, which once came
forward with so much energy, such bold confidence,
and with such lofty pretensions, were fated to come !
What promise was there that they did not make to
the human race? Science, wisdom, and happiness,
were to follow in their train ; and the contemplation
of the Deity itself was to be opened to the human
mind. All these hopes are noM^ no more. These
doctrines themselves were in their mortal agony and
must prepare for death. Not that they were to be
utterlv lost to mankind : the writings of Plato and
Aristotle are still diligently studied, and the labours
of the Stoics in the domain of science and for the
strengthening of the human will, are still known and

'^ Agath. ii. 30, sq. p. 67, sq. Ed. Par. ; hence is taken what is said by Suid.
8. V. TrpiffjidQ.

CONCLUDING REMARKS. 667

acknowledged. When, however, at this time, men
reflected on the ideas of the earlier sages, they were
struck with occasional thoughts, whose constraining
force they felt without being able to give to them a
full assent. For soon other tiioughts presented them-
selves of sufficient force to weaken, if not to upset, the
authority of the first. And thus we find contradic-
tion heaped upon contradiction in the philosophy of
this period. It was now plainly shown, that neither
fertility of thought, nor formal culture of the mind^
nor readiness in reasoning, can assure to the reason
freedom from error. For all these advantages were
unable to guard the philosophy of this age from
the most absurd superstitions. Where now is that
mental enlightenment which the ancient philosophy
had promised to man ? One might, perhaps, have
expected, that the pride of philosophers, which had
put forth such lofty pretensions would have been
humbled by the result. Even the more modest
philosophy of a Socrates or an Aristotle, it must be
remarked, was involved in the same fate with its
more pretending companions.

When we look a little more closely to the re-
spective philosophers of this last age, we do, it is
true, perceive in them a certain poverty and narrow-
ness of idea, but it was not so much this poverty, as
even richness of thought, that overwhelmed them.
In the nco-Platonic school inquiry had confined itself
almost entirely to theology, or, to use a modern
phrase, to the highest ideas of metaphysics ; and
besides these scarcely any else but the more general
ideas and forms of logical investigation, which nii<;ht
be useful as means. Phvsics and ethics were for

6G8 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

the most part, reduced to mere subordinate matters
of little interest. The cause of this may be easily
traced. These branches of philosophy, we must in
truth admit, had been developed much less perfectly
than logic. Consequently they had less intrinsic
power to maintain themselves against the pressure
of new modes of thought. The science of pliysics
in particular, was based upon a series of imperfect
analogies, combined with a limited and incomplete
experience; whatever it possessed of a really scien-
tific value, had become detached from it by being
made the subject of a special experimental science,
rarely if ever, pursued conjointly with philosophy.
Ethics, on the other hand, which, in the best days of
philosophy, had more or less of a political character,
could scarcely maintain its importance in an age in
which the political sentiment of the ancient races was
dead ; and the import and influence of the forms of
state — the essence of education in the olden times —
was lost. Ethics had now no other province than to
furnish exhortations to virtue in private life. When
however, a disposition grew up for social life in a reli-
gious community, a desire would naturally arise for
a moral system under different forms, which, how-
ever, it was as yet impossible for the present age to
establish in definite scientific notions. On this side,
consequently, the circle of ideas among the last phi-
losophers of antiquity, must have appeared limited ;
this, hovvevei", was only partially the case, for on the
other it tended to enlarge itself. Now although it
may be truly said, that this narrowness of view was
inevitably prejudicial to the other portions also of
philosophy, still we do not believe that we should be

CONCLUDING REMARKS. 669

justified in maintainins:, that it was the chief source
of the uncertainty which prevailed in ancient philo-
sophy during the last ages of its history. It had its
origin rather in a knowledge of the existence of a
great diversity of views, of which a very vague
notion was adopted without any attempt to arrive at
a clear and profound estimate of their differences
and agreements, and true import. To the mental
weakness of the neo-Platonists must it be im-
puted, that they did not penetrate deeper ; but, on
the other hand, some praise is due to them, that they
strove to preserve the whole treasure of transmitted
doctrine, and did not, in any spirit of exclusiveness,
devote themselves to any particular system. It is
in truth an advance of philosophy, to have gained
a large store of different ideas and different modes
of view, and a wide review of the different direc-
tions of philosophical thought. But let no one
flatter himself that this is all that is necessary.
The mind will not be satisfied with this alone. Such
satisfaction is not to be afforded without the ability
to understand the several directions in their true
import, and a clear insight into the principles
from which they set out, and the results to which
they tend, and consequently without the capacity
to seize and make use of their true import for the
reason. But tljis was not accomplished by tlie phi-
losophers of whom we have been latterly speaking.
Whether it was or not in their power to accom-
plish it, is quite another question, and difficult to
answer. We do not comi)risc in tliis qiicstion, the
doubt whether the ideas which the neo Platonists
borrowed respectively from Plato, Aristotle, and

670 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

the Stoics, and from Oriental modes of thinking,
were of so conflicting- a nature, that it was utterly
impossible, even for one who had entered fully into
their true significance, to combine them into an in-
trinsically coherent system. For it is our own
opinion, that the ideas of philosophy possess an in-
trinsic congruity, and that their true import does
not ultimately end in mutual contradiction. Con-
sequently the inability of the neo-Platonists to re-
concile the different directions of thought which
lay in their accumulated store of ideas, could have
had no other ground than the spirit of the age or
party to which they belonged. In order, therefore,
to be able to pass judgment upon them, it will be
necessary to examine their peculiar position, which
must be acknowledged to be the result of anterior
historical circumstances.

The mental enlightenment of the age to which
the neo-Platonists belonged, was the combined
result of the Grecian and the Oriental mode of
thought. Let us first examine the character of the
Grecian. Every nation, whose history is accessible
to our review, has had a culminating point in its
development, beyond which their powers could not
rise ; and at that point, exactly, were they able to
accomplish some benefit for humanity, which was
worthy to be transmitted to later generations, in
whose intellectual life again it was to continue its
influence. But either to attain to or to transmit per-
fection was beyond their power. Now every age
has undoubtedly its peculiar task to perform, and
therefore produces in its turn something new. But,
at the same time, a certain reference to, and com-

CONCLUDING REMARKS. 671

parison with, the past is indispensable ; men begin
after a while to perceive that the freshness of the
creative faculty is withered and gone by, and they
become conscious that their proper office is rather
to preserve the old than to create the new. This
was the position at which the Greeks had now long
been standing. The culminating point of their deve-
lopment had long since been passed. In science it
had been reached when Plato and Aristotle had ceased
to teach. Compared with the mighty advance which
the vigorous spirit of their nation had enabled these
two philosophers, who were pre-eminently the men
of their age, to make, all the labours of the Stoics —
however they might have improved and enlarged a
few points, and however much they may have sought
to refer all things to a more simple principle — were
of little value. At this time the Grecian nation, or
rather the mixed multitude which now shared a
Grecian education, lived, so far as philosophy was
concerned, exclusively in the memor}'^ of anterior per-
formances, until the Oriental traditions were brought
witliin their reach, and men began to be aware that
there was much in the latter which they would do
well to adopt — much which would animate and give
freshness to, and perhaps even complete, the ancient
national enliglitenment. Accordingly a strong
desire now manifested itself to combine both Ori-
ental and Grecian modes of thinking. Their differ-
ent originals were not however sufficiently examined ;
but on the contrary, by a very lax method of expla-
nation, Grecian ideas were introdiiccd into Oriental
traditions, and Oriental into (Grecian. This M'as
an historical error, but one far fiom presenting

672 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

any insuperable difficulty to a correct evolution
of thought sucli as might have led to a perfect
union and completion of the respective views of
these two national tendencies of thought. If this
was not actually effected, the reason of the failure
must be found in the position which, in the midst
of these different phases of speculation, philosophers
took up.

And here we seem called upon to take a survey
of the different character of the Grecian and the
Oriental view. However difficult it may be to reduce
to a single result modes of thought which have been
developed through a series of extended investiga-
tions, and a variety of intermediate states, we must
nevertheless undertake the hazardous duty. The
philosophy of Greece ran through all grades, from
the most unqualified Scepticism to the most unmi-
tigated Dogmatism. At one time it absolutely
rejected the sensuous presentation, and would place
no reliance on aught but reason ; and at another
it resigned itself entirely to sensation ; and between
these two extremes it exhibited every possible grada-
tion. It is unnecessary to mention other variations
of view. In the midst of so many varieties of opinion,
what are we to regard as the true character of the
Grecian scientific view ? According to the nature of
the case, we must regard it as a series of develop-
ments — as a life which attempts graduall}^ to under-
stand itself, and in this course is liable to aberrations,
nay, in the recklessness of folly or the agony of grief,
even to total despair of its powers.

Let us now proceed to trace the course, and com-
plications, of this life. In the Ionic school we meet

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 673

everywhere with the ruling idea, that whatever is
real and true is in a perpetual evolution, whether it
be of a single force or of a plurality of motions in
the contrariety of a moving force and a moved
matter. But the further this doctrine is worked out
the greater prominence is given to the thought, that
Reason is the ruling or ordering principle in the flux
of phenomena. The Pythagoreans also conceived
the world to be a living development which was
destined to produce harmony in the contrariety of the
unlimited, and the limitable of evil and of good.
Even though they did assume a higher unity which
should combine the two members of this contrariety,
still they did not hesitate to posit the continuance of
the contrariety itself as necessary ; they could not
hope for the duration of life except in the conflict of
these opposite momenta. From the very first this
school directed less of its attention to the sensible
than to the rational, which they recognised in the pro-
portional and the harmonical. But the third and the
latest of the pre-Socratic schools, the Eleatic, ap-
plied itself still more earnestly than all before it,
nay than all even after it, to the rational. It refused
to acknowledge aught as true which the reason docs
not recognise ; it declared Reason to be the essence,
although we must admit, it did not accurately
enough distinguish it from the natural, the corpo-
real; but on the other hand it distinguished it only
the more sharply on this account from the sensible:
for the senses, it taught, do but deceive; and in fact
the most important part of its doctrine, by which
it exercised any influence on succeeding ages, con-
sisted in this controversy against the sensible in this
IV. 2 X

674 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

polemical movement. This is the source, too, of its
denial of all plurality, all becoming and life. And
if, nevertheless, it searched for the truth amidst the
generations and the becoming of nature, still it
advanced the result of this research only as mere
opinion, inasmuch as it rested on the basis of a de-
ceptive perception. Accordingly, we cannot fail to
recognise its tendency to Scepticism, however pre-
cise and positive may be the positions in which it
expresses its doctrines. Hence the Eleatic school
was the point to which the sophistical movement
attached itself — the most decided Scepticism, what-
ever form it took, whether ascribing to the corporeal
alone a perfectly inscrutable truth, it rejected
whatever belongs to soul or reason as a perfect
delusion; or else made all trutli to be lost amid the
ceaseless flux of becoming ; or lastly, ascribed the
same truth to the non-existent as to the existent,
and thereby overthrew the possibility of the truth
of language and thought.

When then against this tumult of sophistry
Socrates raised the idea of conscience as a standard
to which all, whether old or young, who were
anxious for knowledge, eagerly flocked — as a lofty
ideal, which, with difiiculty only, if indeed ever at-
tainable, all must however strive to attain to ; then —
to neglect all consideration of certain unimportant
remains of antiquated doctrines — the main question
was with the unity of the Eleata;, which is immuta-
ble and excludes all multiplicity, and also with tlje
restless motion of Heraclitus. What man now
sought to determine was, the notions, the essences of
things, which however he no longer expected to

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 675

find on the surface and in the outward appearance
of things, but hoped to reach, at least approximately,
b}' a thorough cultivation of the intellect or reason.
These notions, of which the very form seemed to
point out a connection between them, required
agreeably thereto to be exhibited as a science, such
as apparently suggested the universal connection of
all that is subjective and objective, and the common
origin of rational thought, conscience, certainty, and
truth. Hence resulted the necessity of recognising
unity in plurality. But if man is to maintain
his proper position, and discover the proper objects
of his activity, it was not enough to exhibit the
consciousness as a dead symbol in the human soul,
but it must be one to stimulate man to rational
action, in the midst of a natural world, which is
subjected to the laws of necessary becoming.

Hence followed the necessity of assuming, besides
the settled forms of thought and being, which are
exhibited in the series of notions, an inchoate nature
and an inchoate reason, as the subject-matter re-
spectively of physics and ethics — two sciences sub-
ordinate to logic. Whether, indeed, this inchoation
or becoming admitted of being exhibited in so fixed
and settled a form as, it was hoped, the eternal
generation of things and notions might be, was in-
deed questionalde. How in any such a case the
immutable and tlie becoming were to be combined
together into unity, was again the subject of many
opinions, which in various ways it was sought to
raise and develop into science.

This problem of science was uiidcrtakcu first of
all by Plato : but the point of view from whicli he

2x2

676 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

principally regarded it, was that of the necessity of
establishing a system of notions or ideas, by which
a knowledge of the perfect and the good might be
rendered attainable. In such a system, he thought
that the unity of science and being, of reason and of
truth, was to be found. When, however, he con-
templated the inchoation or becoming of the sen-
sible world, he was unable to see in it anything but
a mixture of notions and truth, in which neither
system nor order is observed — a complicated con-
fusion of them which, indeed, contains the truth,
but in an indeterminate or rather defective form,
and one which by no means fully corresponded to
the good. If asked to account for this confusion of
the sensible, he was able to give no other answer
than, that the ideas separately and one by one
are incapable of perfection ; but that defect and
superfluity cling to each, in and by itself; that,
besides good, evil also must be eternal in this world,
where nothing more than a striving after good is
possible, the attainment of it in its full perfection
being impracticable. Thus he plunges, as it were,
the soul into the flux of the becoming and the sen-
sible ; from which, according to the spirit of his
theory, it can never wholly deliver itself.

In a somewhat different light did this sensible
world appear to Aristotle, who saw in its becoming
an union of real entity with potentiality, and an
unceasing effort to realise the potential. This eff'ort,
however, is not to be supposed to develop itself
with a perfect intelligence of its principles and
designs, since it is only the pure and absolute
reality that can possess an absolute knowledge of it-

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 677

self; whereas the indeterminate potentiality, which
is yet in becoming, cannot possess more than an
indeterminate knowledge. As tlien the object
which Aristotle proposed to himself was to appre-
hend the real and the true, which is realised in the
development of things, he therefore relied on the
sufficiency of experience, and the penetration of the
practised understanding, to discover the essential
by means of the accidental, and to trace the princi-
ple in its phenomena. But he was not content with
looking simply to the infinite series of moved and
moving causes for the principles of all phenomena.
For Aristotle held that reason abhors the infinite.
As the truth, which it is the object of science
to discover, is eternal and immutable, so reason
requires as necessary a unity of science, and an
uhimate principle of motion, which is not itself in
motion, but is immutable and eternal. Thus was
Aristotle led to his idea of a God, who, without being
himself moved, is yet the prime mover, the princi-
ple of all becoming in the world ; in his perfect
essence he is tlie Good, who, being iiimself unmoved,
moves all things by the desire which they all have
for him. God possesses a complete intelligence, the
complete idea of the all-perfect — of himself. He is
pure energy, operating in all things, the source of
all energy, all truth, and not merely of what per-
tains to phenomenality and privation, since he
implants in them the desire which pervades both
natural and rational life. In this manner did
Aristotle bring life and becoming into a closer
union with God, than it was pos.sii)l(' for I^lato to
establish between them. l5ut on the other lie is

G78 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

justly chargeable with a fault from which his great
master is free : not only does he omit to point out
the way by which man is to attain to the end which
he nevertheless admits to be the destination of
humanity, but gives even less hope than Plato did
of a certain approximation thereto, and even con-
siders man himself as a merely transitory being,
who has only an indirect contact with the divine by
means of numerous intermediate essences. Equally
difficult of explanation on the theory of Aristotle was
the existence of a series of imperfect objects along
with the perfect operation of God ; he was content
to declare it a law of necessity that it should be so,
that it had always been so, and will be so for
ever.

Out of these two different views a certain gene-
ral result seems to have established itself, that,
namely, in order to arrive at a knowledge of the
supra-sensible ground, it is necessary to investigate
and determine the good. But in what good con-
sisted was a question on which little unanimity pre-
vailed. Plato placed it in a s^^stem of immutable
ideas ; Aristotle in the energy of life. The former,
therefore, evidently conceived it to be further re-
moved from the motion of the sensible world than
the latter did ; Plato cherished the thought of an
ideal world, which should possess good in its abso-
lute purity ; whereas Aristotle rejected the hypo-
thesis of such a world, and hoped to find it, although
only under certain limiting conditions, in the world
of sense. From this point one step only was to be
taken to plunge man again in the sensible world.
The Sceptics, indeed, did not venture to take it, for

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 679

they still vacillated between the sensible and the
supra-sensible world. The latter, indeed, they held
to be the true world, but yet taught that it exists
not for man, whose nature is so thorouo-hlv hemmed
in by the sensible that escape from it is impossible.
All that is in man's power is simply the moderation of
his sensuous emotions ; which moderation, however*
is not the reallv ffood, but at most a limitation of
evil. Epicurus was less hesitating; he believed that
the good was really to be found in the sensible world,
and placed it in a wise adjustment of sensual
pleasures.

These, however, are but the difficulties which at
all times are to be met with in the development
of science, and which, except in a sickly and dis-
tempered age, never arrive at a general importance.
The doctrine of the Stoics was of a different kind.
The importance of this system in the history of
Grecian philosoph}^ is too general and extensive to
admit of a doubt as to its right to be considered a
natural step in its development. The cause which
led to its formation was the inadequacy of the Pla-
tonic and the Aristotelian philosophy to discover the
princi])le of connection between God and the sen-
sible world. W lience, it was asked, arises the im-
perfection of things in tlie midst of which man is
placed? If, it was urged, it be necessary to posit
an imperfect world of becoiniiifi,- alongside of tlie
unchangeable perfect, tliis apparent 1n' must involve
a dualism. Again, it was ()l)jectcd, the idea of Ciod,
whicli does not represent liim as an active and
efficient energy, and producing by hiinselfall things
that are in this world, must derogate from his
vitality ; if God is to reveal himself to nian, and

G80 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

become an object of human cognition in this world,
he must be actually in it. On these grounds the
Stoics declared God to be the vital force, which in
certain periods of life originates the world, and
ag^ain dissolves it into himself; who fashions in
himself his own proper matter ; out of its generality
God forms its special properties, which he again
resolves into the general. All the things of this
world, whether they enjoy in the general course of
life a longer or shorter existence, are alike swal-
lowed up in the necessity of lifci Thus did the
Stoics arrive at the idea of a corporeal God, who,
nevertheless, is full of the most active vitality, and
endowed with most perfect wisdom and intelligence.
He comprises in himself all ideas, and is the only
object of science ; but these ideas are not merely
abstract and dead images of tlie unchangeable
essence, but each of them is a living force, and
bears in itself the germ of development. To the
Stoical view, everything is corporeal and sensible,
and consequently the sensuous presentations are
alone credible and trustworthy. But in the de-
velopment — the progress of life, and in the rela-
tions of tlie contrarieties which result therefrom,
the Stoics distinguished several degrees of existence;
and the highest of these, the Stoics insisted, can be
no other than the force which holds the whole in
union and combination, and rules as well in the
individual parts as in the whole. This force tliey
declared to be Reason. And thus they resolved the
opposition between the sensible and the supra-sen-
sible into a difference of degree, but still acknow-
ledged the superior dignity of Reason. And even
the life of this world has its ultimate destination;

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 681

all tilings must again return into their generality.
Man must learn to submit himself with proper
intelligence to the supreme laws, and acknowledge
that there is no higher end of his being than with
perfect science to sacrifice himself. And when this
resolution of all things shall have been accom-
plished, a new development will commence, and it
is even this unceasing circulation of life and acti-
vity that constitutes the true essence of divinity.

This doctrine is the conclusion to which the de-
velopment of Grecian philosophy ultimately led;
although, indeed, it did not steadily maintain itself at
this point without occasional fluctuation and waver-
ing. A recollection, however weak, of the earlier
system was evinced in the objections which the New
Academy took to the system of the Stoics. The
authority of sensation was not universally acknow-
ledged ; and testimonies were found to another
reason than that of the Stoics, which was nothing
more than an exaltation of sensuous perception ;
there were a few who had not forgotten that it was
necessary to look for a God superior to the world,
and diflerent from the god of the Stoics, who was
endowed indeed with life, but by his very vitality
subject to perpetual change.

In this state the philosophy of Greece came to
the Romans and Orientals. With the former, for
the most part, it degenerated into an erudite and
Eclectical mode of treating the transmitted doctrines
which was of a somewhat sceptical tendency, com-
bined with a practical application to private life, en-
forcing a stern fortitude and contempt for those
blows of fortune which were so common in these
disordered times. And thus was formed the later

682 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

character of Stoicism, which, placing a firm reliance
in the moral energy of man, taught the necessity
of dispensing with, and the absolute worthlessness
of, external advantages ; referring all truth to the
sensuous presentation, and recommending in all
things resignation to the divine dispensations.
With these, with the Orientals, the introduction of
Grecian philosophy led to a ferment of opinions,
by whose reaction a great change was effected even
in the ideas of the Greeks themselves.

The philosophical doctrines which were evolved
in the East, present a far simpler aspect than the
philosophy of Greece can exhibit. They all, with-
out exception, venerate as the highest excellence,
profound and undisturbed repose, which is neither
motion nor yet the result of motion. This repose is
the attribute of God, but is not wanting altogether to
the essence of the soul. To attain to this state of
repose is the highest object of humanity. Motion
and activity on the other hand constitute the misery
of this world. The object therefore which Oriental
philosophy proposed to itself, was to eliminate this
misery, at least for man — for the soul. If then it ad-
mitted the doctrine of a supreme God, it was forced
to make him totally indifferent to motion, in order to
withdraw from the contagion of evil. The prin-
ciples of motion, nevertheless, were supposed to
emanate from God, but in such a manner as not in
any wise to affect his essence. It was impossible
for this philosophy to admit that motions accrue
to the soul from God, since in such a case the soul
would be for ever subject to it. It must, then,
accrue to the soul as unessentially and contingently
as to the Deity himself. The carrying out of this

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 683

doctrine to its extreme consequence, must ultimately
lead to the assumption, that becoming is without es-
sence and naught — an illusion and semblance, in
which whatever there is of truth is of the eternal God;
or at most it will concede to becoming a certain im-
portance, which, however, is extrinsical to, and
concerns not the soul, and therefore strives to make
it intelligible to the soul, that essentially it has no
concern or interest in becoming. And this then
leads naturally to the opinion, that it is a dispensa-
tion of God that has placed man amidst the becom-
ing, without however its really affecting him ; to this
dispensation man must submit, and tranquilly
allow becoming to pass over him, in full confidence
that it need neither pollute nor disturb him in
his immortal essence,— such a submission to the
divine dispensation being truest liberty. The
whole of these Oriental ideas unquestionably pro-
ceed upon the principle, that the essence of things
is unchangeable and altogether distinct from life,
which is not regarded as a development of the
essence,j3ut as something wliolly unimportant to it.
Whatever profundity there is in tliese ideas, consists
in the rigor with which it insisted upon the absolute
perfection of the essence, and refused, from any
consideration of the troubles of life, to doubt the
possibility of its realization. l^ut in order to
promise to man this supreme perfection, it was
necessary to assert the notliingness of tliesc dis-
turbances of life and even of life itself, since tlie
former are inseparable from the latter. What the
Oriental pliilosophy promises to man, is not so
much the attainment of his true destination— liis
perfect life, as liis emancipation from wliatever

684 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

obscures his true essence, and prevents him from
seeing that his true essence is perfect from all eter-
nity : man's true wisdom a conviction of the
nothingness of human life.

In fact, the respective views of Greece and the
East were widely different. By a noble and vigorous
activity, by the energy of his reason, the Greek
hoped to attain to whatever either in politics or
science is accessible to the limited faculties of man.
In this active pursuit he found his enjoyment, and
all the good that his nature is capable of. But he
felt it impossible to promise himself the attainment
of such an ultimate end of his labours, as should
in fact fully satisfy all the requisitions of his
reason. One occupation only leads him to another ;
for in this world, to which man belongs once for
all, the necessity of limitation becomes invariably
combined with the liberty of reason. The hopes of
the Greek rose not to a higher object than the
harmony of the conflicting elements of his life, to
which mutation, matter, and privation, necessarily
belong. According to the most characteristic ex-
pression of his view ; the end of human existence,
which it is necessary for man to propose to himself,
is but the greatest possible exaltation of life, which,
however, must again sink into lower grades by
reason of the change to which life is of necessity
subject. Very different was the end towards which
the Oriental tended, and which he believed to be
attainable by man. Properly, however, this end is
already within man's possession, for the essence of
all things is eternal ; as it is illimitable and im-
perturbable, so all that man has to do is to keep
himself undisturbed by the unimportant phenomena

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 685

of life. Man must seek to recover that peace, of
which he has, in some inexplicable way, been de-
prived by his own guilt, the illusion of circum-
stances, or by the unessential, gradually descending,
emanations of God. Abandoned to this repose,
man may contemplate the essence of God, and in
mystical union with him enjoy his felicity.

But however conflicting these views may be,
they nevertheless possessed one point in common.
They both looked upon life as necessarily imperfect,
and consequently unfitted to be a perfect means for
the acquisition of the perfect.

We have already observed, that it was not im-
possible to reconcile these opposite views, if he who
attempted the task should carefully extract the
truths they severally contained, and reject as unes-
sential whatever was false and erroneous in them.
But how much was required for the successful exe-
cution of such a task! The Greek must liave
given up his prejudice, that the necessary' form of
man's existence in this world does not permit of his
attaining to the ultimate limit of perfection — a
truly happy life. Tlie Greeks felt existence to be a
life of continual conflict and struggle; the more
eagerly they longed for the enjoyment of the
present, the more sensibly they felt its defect
and its insufficiency. Pure peace with man, with
God, was not designed to be their lot ; they dare not
even hope for it. In the stranger they saw only a
barbarian, an enemy, or a slave ; aud even if this
prejudice was gradually softened, this improvement
was attended with the loss of their national cha-
racter and independence. In the gods they saw
nothing but jealous and constraining powers ; and

686 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

even if their philosophers, by the light of science,
attained to a clearer and more cheerful view, and
even acknowledged a supreme Deity, who being
himself good is the author of nothing but good, still
a feeling of evil, in which they saw human life to
be involved, forced them to renounce all hope of
perfect excellence. The complication of pheno-
mena amidst which man is placed appeared to them
too great for any satisfactory solution to be possible,
and they therefore believed him to be subject to
certain higher powers, who did not participate in
pure goodness. Of these convictions, of this hope-
lessness of everything beyond the mere approxi-
mation to good, the scientific systems of the Greeks
are without exception full. He who takes them as
they are, will derive from them at most but an
insufficient consolation for the cares of life. They
seek to apprehend life in its reality, but they do but
prejudice its truth by their incapacity to regard life
as the means to the acquisition of the Highest — the
way to God. But still, we must give them credit
for the earnestness with which they laboured to
bring man near to the truth of life, and refused to
consider, with the Orientals, the activitv of human
reason, as a semblance or something wholly without
essence. The Orientals, on the other hand, have
the merit which the Greeks have no title to, of
promising to man a total emancipation from evil,
even though it be to be purchased by an absolute
renunciation of life, and the acknowledgment of
its utter nothingness for humanity, and by his
absorption thereby into the eternal quietude of his
essence or principle. This, indeed, is the strong
prejudice in the mental character of the Orientals,

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 687

which hindered them from seeing that life in its
truth, as the development of man's proper essence,
may yet bear or produce of itself peace and felicity.
They contemplated life under a single aspect alone
— that of its sensuous frailty.

If now we proceed to investigate the causes which

may have led the Greeks and the Orientals to such

a view of life, we may remark in general, that there

is little that is strange or surprising in the ordinary

fact, that men take but a cheerless view of human

life. For the most part we are satisfied if we see a

man labouring to gain but a slight advance in

human life, and hoping to make a gradual progress,

even though he should not look forward to, nor even

venture to hope for, any end of his toil. Thus is

youth ever content to live for the day alone ; by

abandoning himself wholly to sensible phenomena,

which dazzle and charm him by tlieir novelty, he

hopes to ensure their friendship. But should he

gradually arrive at a fuller consciousness of his

proper nature, he is so far deserving of praise, if, no

longer extracting from the phenomena of the world

around him a merely sensual gratification, he seeks

to convert them into a source of permanent and

intellectual pleasure, to give to them a harmonious

arrangement, and to apprehend them as a form of

beauty cither by introducing into or discovering in

them the impress of intelligence. With this

humour of youth wc may compare the manner in

which the Greeks contemplated the world ; with

them the imngination was more lively than the

understandinn;. Not uiiwillinnlv do wc linn;er on

the contemplation of a ]*ursuit wjiich, however

deficient in cfirnestncss of purj)o-c, was never-

688 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

theless impelled by the freshness of life, and which
contented itself with looking for and carefully tracing
the good in the beautiful. But, on the other hand,
we could not severely censure him who, taking a
more comprehensive view of these images of life —
these fleeting shadows of the truth — should persuade
himself that he had discovered that all things,
whatever promise of permanency they may present,
nevertheless soon vanish into the depth of oblivion,
and who with sighs should exclaim. All is vanity !
Such feelings, however, are butrare,and in a healthy
and vigorous youth to be met only at a few, tran-
sitory moments ; they are however the ordinary
sentiments of fretful old age. Age turns within
himself, and withdrawing him from the external
world, hopes to find within the long-desired repose
from the labours of an unprofiting carefulness.
Neither view can we look upon as the true one ;
still we see much to excuse and to palliate both ;
and we are disposed to regard them as modes of
thought and feeling, which man must necessarily
pass through before he can arrive at a correct view
of this life and the universe.

But on what ground do we thus excuse them ? We
excuse the hasty enthusiasm of youth, because it
appears to be the impulse of strong and vigorous
natures, to seize the present circumstance, and to
adopt all that offers, whatever it be; and also because
it is the office of youth, to promote, by unceasing
activity and exercise, the culture of reason, rather
than to direct it to any comprehensive and forecast-
ing purpose. Accurately examined, this justifica-
tion of youth will be found to be drawn not from
tlie erroneous belief in its su}>erior felicity, but

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 689

rather from its attendant disadvantages. The very
impulse of a fresh and youthful nature — its very
facility of adaptation and exercise imply the existence,
in this period of life, of many and great obstacles to
the empire of reason. Youth is the season for liabi-
tuating man to the sphere of his future labours, and
for teaching him the use and giving him a command
of his tools. It is only the magnitude and variety
of these obstacles which can excuse youth, if it
does not at once direct its endeavours to the master-
ing of them all, or at least to maintain its proper
position unmoved in the midst of them. But in
the same spirit we can also excuse old age, when
reviewing the labours of the past it estimates but
cheaply their results, and, exaggerating the mag-
nitude of the fresh difficulties which appear to be
arising on all sides, begins to fear that all attempts to
conquer or even to be at peace with the external
world are vain and fruitless. In both cases alike,
it is the magnitude of the surrounding difficulties
which hinders the hopes of men to raise themselves
to the full grandeur and universality of life. Such,
generally speaking, was tlic position of antiquity —
theyoutliful age of humanity, wherein the youtlihood
of rash enthusiasm was followed by a despairing old
age which, renouncing the external world, witlidrow
entirely within itself: deeply impressed with a
sense of its difficulties — of the evil of this life, it
despaired of ever attaining to a firm hope of the
possibility of triumphing over fvil, with the divine
help, by man's activity — by the development o^
human reason.

This was exactly the position which thr nco-
Platonists maintained. To pass beyond it, il was

IV. 2 Y

690 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

necessary for man to feel in himself the spirit of a
new life, and to direct his eye and his hopes to futu-
rity. The past was not absolutely to be thrown away,
but still it must be admitted to be in a great error,
whose remedy was only to be lookedforin thehumility
and new hopes of Christianity. But it was not in
this spirit that the neo-Platonists pursued their in-
vestigations. They rather did homage to antiquity.
Their view turned back towards the past, and they
looked to the earliest times of antiquity, for the
wisdom which was to fructify their minds. This
was in some degree inevitable, unless they had
been content to abandon altogether the position of
the ancient nations ; so long as they stood there,
they must feed their hopes with the splendour of
olden recollections. While then the neo-Platonists
laboured to collect the sum of all the discoveries of
earlier ages, they were at one time attracted by
the joyous view of life which the Greeks had
cherished ; at another, they fell into that weariness
of life which led the Orientals to recommend a total
renunciation of its duties, and an utter absorption
into self. Between the two views they vacillated,
unable to adhere steadily to either. It was but
natural that at first, as was the case with Plotinus,
they should have been strongly possessed with the
hope that, by a retired life wholly devoted to the
internal meditation of Reason, they might perhaps
attain to perfect peace ; but that latterly, this hope
should gradually sink, with the growing perception
that the complete withdrawal of reason from the
external world is impossible, and as the limits of
finite existence appeared more and more impassable.

RESULTS OF ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY. 691

Then they at last renounced the highest aim of philo-
sophy as unattainable ; then they found their only
comfort in the consideration that man is at least a
subordinate member in a long series of existences,
which, however, at both its extremities, stands in
some inexplicable connection with the Supreme.

In these reflections we have directed our attention
chiefly to the general sentiment which expresses
itself in ancient philosophy, and we have attempted
to show how this sentiment affected, in a great
variety of ways, the ideas of philosophers. Still
we are not ignorant, that j^et another clement
enters into the development of pliilosophy ; or, if
some will rather have it so, makes up the proper
essence of philosophical development. The present,
however, is not the proper place to bring to a de-
cision the conflicting opinions on this point. What
we mean is, the form itself of philosophical thought.
This possesses a constraining power, a convincing
force ; but still it is only gradually, and under
many obstacles, that it works its way upon the con-
sciousness. Althougli not always triumphant, yet
in the course of time, it gains itself a firmer footing
and a wider field. In it lies the regular progres-
sion of philosophy. It is, liowever, a progress which
derives its ground from the general sentiments and
mental character, indeed the wliole life, of the j)]iiloso-
phcr, and therefore in like manner may be distur))ed
when the form of philosophical thought does not,
when it seeks to elaborate itself, find suitable matter
in the mind of the philosopher. Tlicse two elements
of philosophical development, however in conflict
with each other, seek no othor object thnn prace.

2 Y 2

692 CONCLUDING REMARKS.

Such a conflict is the moving principle of the whole
history of philosophy. We must then acknowledge,
that it is only in union with right sentiments that
the form of philosophical thought can reach to a
perfect development. Where the mental character
has not extent and depth enough, there the philoso-
phical thought cannot evolve itself with due rigour
of consequence, nor in perfect consistency. It is the
mental character alone of the writer that can give to
his doctrine a solid basis and a finished consistency.
Now a true profundity and a true comprehen-
siveness of the mental character was not to be found
in any period of antiquity. It was Christianity
that first imparted these blessings to mankind.
Consequently it was onl}^ after its diflfusion that a
consequential development of philosophy could
commence, which, however, it must be confessed,
was still exposed to many obstacles, and like
all else that is human, could only gradually
attain to maturity. In short, we would wish
simply to intimate hereby, that there was in ancient
philosophy an element which the Christian could
take to itself and adopt, even while it remained
unaffected by the general sentiments of anti-
quity which Christianity of necessity rejected.
Consequently the philosophical labour of antiquity
has not been in vain, however vague and fluctu-
ating its development was. We are still reaping the
fruits of it, and it is our hope that we have in some
measure succeeded by our exposition of the doctrines
of antiquity, in exhibiting whatever true results of
science it had attained to.

GENERAL INDEX.

Abaxes, the Scythian, fabulous account

respecting, i. 330.
Abdera, a colony of the Teians, distin-
guished for its learned townsmen, i. 423.
Abel, murder of, how accounted for bv

Philo, iv. 420.
Abraham, faith of, Philo's opinion there-
on, iv. 471.
Academy, the Old, Platonists of, ii. 453
— 472 ; not essentially different from
the Peripatetics, iv. 124. The New,
iii. 600 — 6.58. Doctrines of, rejected
or agreed in by the Stoics, iii. 482, 489,
537 ; by Cicero, iv. 113, 114, 120, 124,
129, 132, 135, 145; by Epictetus, iv.
198 ; by Philo, iv. 413, 414 ; by Plu-
tarch, iv. 487 ; Eclectiail method of, why
most appropriate for Cicero's purpose,
iv. 111. Character of its doctiiiie, iii.
653. The Middle and the New, dis-
tinction between, to what owing, iii.
60(1. The Old and New, doctrines of,
their diffusion among the Romans, iv.
77, &c.
Achaean constitution, the, i. 345.
Achilles, Zeno's argument so called,

fallacy of, i. 476.
Adrastus of Aphrodisias, a commentator

on Aristotle, iii. 28; iv. 240.
yEdesius, a neo-PLitonist, iv. 631, &c.
iEnesidemus, the Sceptic, iii. 389 ; iv.

258, &c. ; 315, &c.
jtischylus, lij^ht in which he views foreign

religious rites, i. LOO.
^sculapius, sricrifice of a cock owed to,
what Socrates meant thereby, ii. 32.
Nicomachus' •k-'ccnt traced to, iii. 1.
iEtna, Mount, b.iid to have been visited

by Plato, ii. 148.
yEtolians, the, ascendancy of, its influence

upon the Greek character, iii. 37f>.
Agrigentum, a Dorian colony, the rival of

Syracuse, i. 488.
Agrippa, the sceptic, doctrines of, iv. 2G9.

Alcibiades, his close intimacy with Socra-
tes, ii. 29. Object of, in frequenting his
society, ii. 79.
Alcidamas, makes Empedocles a disciple

of Parmenides, i. 489.
Alcinous, a compendium of the Platonic
doctrine usually ascribed to him, iv.
230. Doctrines of, ibid., &cc.
Alcmaeon, the Crotoniat jjhysician, not a

Pythagorean, i. 347.
Alexander ^Egeus, a commentator on

Aristotle, iv. 240.
Alexander of Aphrodisias, an expounder
of Aristotle, character and opinions of,
iii. 28; iv. 70, 241, 8cc.
Alexander the Great, conquests of, their
consequences in diffusing Greek civi-
lization, ii. 10. Education of, commit-
ted by Philip to Aristotle, iii. 8. State-
ment of his being accompanied by him
in his Asiatic expedition, a pure fiction,
iii. 9. His liberality to him, 1.
Alexandria in Egypt, school of, ii. 10, Pe-
dantic character of its erudition, iii. 380.
One of the chief seats of philosophy, iv.
64, &CC.
Alexinus of Elea, a Megarian philosopher,

sojihisnis of, ii. 130.
Amufanius or Amafinius, one of the first
Latin writers of philosophy, iv. 82, 84.
Amara-Sinha. a devoted follower of the

doctrines of Buddha, i. 113.
Ameinias, according to some, a preceptor

of Parmenides, i. 42.0.
Ammonius of Alexandiia, Eclecticism of,

iv. 241.
Ammonius .Saccas, founder of the neo-
Platonic jihilosophy, doctrines of, iv.
72, 524, &c.
Amyntas, king of Macedonia, Nicoma-
chus the physician of, iii. 1.
Anaxagorns of Clazomena-, derided the
BU|)er8titioiiH of the multitude, i. 136.
A disciple of Anaximcncs, i. 18.0, His

694

GENERAL INDEX.

doctrines purely physical, i. 192.
A mechanical physiologer, i. 193.
Called' his primitive elementary parts
seeds, i. 202. His life and philosophy,
i. 281 — 318. His position, that snow
is black, i. 323. Why supposed the
teacher of Empedocles, i. 490. The
olden god-lore understood by him alle-
gorically, i. 530. Fundamental princi-
ple of atomism controverted by him,
i. ,543. Improbably made the pre-
ceptor of Democritus, i. 545. His po-
sition, that All is present in all, i. 558.
Advance made by him in mechanical
physics, i. 593. Falsely said to have
been a preceptor of Socrates, ii. 17.
His doctrine of all nature being govern-
ed by Intelligence adopted by Socrates,
ii. 47. Doctrines of, diligently studied
by Plato, ii. 155. Theory of, denying
that anything asserted of another does
not really belong to it, iii. 70.

Anaximander of Miletus, taught the Ionian
philosophy by Thales, i. 189. His
explanation of the All, i. 192. His life
and philosophy, i. 265 — 280. Accord-
ing to some, a teacher of Pytha-
goras, i. 332. His opinions on the ori-
gin of man seemingly in accordance vpith
those of Parmenides, i. 464. Founder
of the mechanical physiology, i. 592.

Anaximenes of Miletus, a scholar of Ana-
ximander, i. 189. A dynamical physi-
ologer, i. 193. His hfe, doctrines,
&c., i. 203—209, 590.

Andronicus of Rhodes, Aristotle's works
edited by him, iii. 25 ; iv. 77, 240.
Testimony of, on their genuineness, 27.

Anebos the Egyptian priest. Porphyry's
letter to, iv. 617.

Anniceris, the Cyrenaic, doctrines of, ii.
104—107.

Antigonus Gonatas, Zeno a teacher at
Athens in his time, iii. 450.

Antiochus of Ascalon, a scholar of Philo,
doctrines of, iii. C33, &c. A teacher
of the New Academy at Rome, iv. 77.
A preceptor of Cicero at Athens, iv.
102. Doctrines of, rejected or assented
to by Cicero, iv. 125, 129.

Antipater the Cyrenian, said to have been
taught by Aristippus, ii. 87.

Antipater of Tarsus, doctrines of, iii. 598,
&c.

Antisthenes, founder of the Cynics, an
associate of Socrates, ii. 79. His life
and doctrines, ii. 108 — 123. Attacked
by Plato, ii. 152.

Antoninus, M. Aurelius, the emperor, Stoi-
cal doctrines of,' iv. 221. Encourage-
ment given by him to Athens, iv. G6.

Antoninus Pius, encouragement given by
him to Athens, iv. 66.

Anxarchus of Abdera, an ardent admirer
of the scepticism of Democritus, iii. 383.

Anytos, one of Socrates' accusers, ii. 25.

Apellicon of Teius, said to have pur-
chased and published Aristotle's writ-
ings, iii. 25.

Apollo, Pythagoras according to some
accounted the son of, i. 330.

Apollodorus, testimony of, on the birth-
place of Aristotle, iii. 1. On the age of
Chrysippus, iii. 461.

Apollonius of Tj'ana, life, character, and
doctrines of, iv. 481, &c.

Apuleius, L. doctrines of, iv. 509, &c.

Arabs, the, learning, &c. borrowed by
them from the Greeks, iv. 403.

Arcesilaus, founder of the New Academy,
ii. 472. A preceptor of Chrysippus,
iii. 461. His life and doctrines, iii. 600,
&c. Appealed to by Cicero, iv. 113.

Archelaus, a scholar of Anaxagoras, the
last representative of the Ionian school,
i. 189. Stood in the closest relation of
intimacy with his preceptor Anaxagoras,
i. 282. His life and doctrines i. 318 —
325. Applies his master's physiology
to ethical notions, i. 595. Improbably
made an instructor of Socrates, ii. 17.

Archelaus the tyrant, reason why Socrates
refused to visit him, ii. 34.

Archidemus the Stoic, a scholar of Dio-
genes, iii. 598.

Archytas of Tarentum, the contemporary
of Dionysius the younger and Plato,
i. 348, Unquestionably left behind
him many important treatises, i. 349.
Many works attributed to him spurious,
i. 347. Birth-place, character, disco-
veries, &c. of, i. 350. Calls the breath
or hfe of the world the interval of the
totality of nature, i. 388. Authority
of, referred to on the Pythagorean doc-
trine, i. 415, 416.
Areius Didymus, the Academician, writ-
ings of, on the doctrines of Plato, iv.
229.
Aresas, a Pythagorean, said to have
taught Philolaus, Clinias, and Eurytus,
i. 348. A fragment of, spurious, i. 349.
Arete, daughter of Aristippus, stated to
have been the pupil of her father and
the instructress of her son the younger
Aristippus, ii. 87.
Argos, its impious flattery of Demetrius

Poliorcetes, iii. 379.
Aristippus, the elder, life, school, and
doctrines of, i. 84 — 99. Doctrines of,
attacked by Plato, ii. 152, 390. His
view of i)lcasure opposed to that of

GENERAL INDEX.

695

Epicurus, iii. 419. His view of huma-
nity not so noble as tliat of Carneades,
iii. 612.

Aristippus, the younger, wliy called Me-
trodidactos, ii. 87.

Aristo of Chios, the Stoic, disciple of Zeno,
openly deviated from the views of his
master, iii. 45.5. Doctrines of, ibid.
&c. In what he censured the Stoics,
iii. 476.

Aristocles, a statement of, regarding Aris-
tippus, ii. 80".

Ariston of Ceos, the Peripatetic, iii. 371.

Aristophanes, his treatment of Socrates,
what proved by it, ii. *2(;. Comedies
of, exercised great influence on the
formation of Plato's style, ii. 15G.

Aristotle on the ancient theologers, i. 141.
On the doctrines of Pherecydes Syrus,
i. 145. On the doctrine that all has
been evolved from seed, i. 202. His
opinion on Heraclitus, i. 231. On
Anaximander's meaning of the in-
finite, i. 2G8. His objection to Anaxa-
goras' notion of motion, i. 299. On
Anaxagoras' theory of the evolution of
the world, i. 314, and of human know-
ledge, i. 315, 318. Makes Pherecydes
and the Pythagoreans differ widely in
opinion on the origin of things, i. 335.
Attributes no particular philosopheme
to Pythagoras, i. 342. Lost work of,
against the P) thagoreans and Archytas,
i. 349. Distinguishes the genuine phi-
losophizing Pythagoreans from others so
called, i. 355. The best authority regard-
ing them, i. 356. Derives their whole
system from a fondness for mathematical
studies, i. 359. Their table of opposite
notions quoted from him, i. 364. On
their doctrines, 368, 371, 374, .-579,
3«1,3'!2, :',:r2, 3fi«, 401, 402, 407, 41-1,
418,420. On the Eleatic doctrine,!. 441.
Holds I'armcnides to lie the chief of
the Elcatic philosophers, i. 44(i. Re-
gards Zeno as the inventor of Dialec-
tics, i. 470. His objection to Kmpe-
docles as a philosopher, i. 4.92. Holds
him in his ('osmopoeia to have left too
much to chance, i. 517. On the cor-
ruption of oratory, i. 527. On the age
of Leucippus, i. 543. Calls Leucippui*
and Democritus associates, i. 545. His
universality compared with that of Df-
mocritus, .54'i. On Democritus' idea <>t
motion, 552. On Democritus' reducing
all percciitiblcs to tangil)les, i. 557.
On the doctrines of Socrates, ii. 42,
55. Why scanty in his information
regarding him, ibid. Reproach brought
by him against the elder Aristippus,

ii. 88. On the character of the doc-
trines of Antisthenes, ii. 129. On the
doctines of Plato, ii. 155, 160, 161,
166, 328 — 332. His unfading renown,
ii. 453. Often distniguishes Platonic
from Academic principles, ii. 455. On
the doctrines of Speusippus, ii. 457,
&c. On the doctrines of Xenocrates,
ii. 462. His life and writings, iii. 1 —
32. His philosophy, in general, iii.
33—64. Logics of, iii. 65.— 180.
Physics of. iii. 181 — 258. Ethics of,
iii. 259 — 340. Deference paid to his
authority by Paneetius, iii. 622. Cha-
racter of his doctrine, iii. 641, dec.
Commentators on, iv. 240. Doctrines
of, adopted or rejected by Theophrastus,
iii.,358 — 364. By Aristoxenus, 364. By
Decaearchus, 364,365. By Strato, 366 —
370. By Timon, 388. Bv Epicurus, iii.
407,409,412, 414, 424,'426, 427. By
the Stoics, iii. 468, 470, 471, 473, 474,
479, 482, 483, 490,493, 495,496, 501,
502, 505, 509,512,513, 517,518,523,
534, 536, 543, 547, 551,553,557, 571,
572, .576, 579, 592, 595, 623, 626.
By Cicero, iv. 110, 114, 120, 128, 133,
159. By Epictetus, iv. 202. Bv Philo,
iv. 418, 446, 459—465, 468. Bv Plu-
tarch, iv. 487, 489, 494, 495, 497,
500. By Plotinus, iv. 534,';568, 569,
581, 584.

Aristoxenus, the Peripatetic, disciple of
Aristotle, deviated from his master in
his notion of the soul, iii. 364, 365.

Arpedonapta;, the Egyptian, i. 545.

Arrian, jiis Enchiridion of Epictetus, iv.
197, 204.

Asia, elements of human civilization
flowed into Europe from, i. 47. The
same not liie case with jihilosophy, i.
48, &c. Inhabitants of, why according
to Aristotle incapable of good political
institutions, iii. 319.

Aste, certain dialogues of Plato rejected
by him as sjnirious, ii. 165.

Athenodorus, the Stoic, disapproved of
much in tiie books of his master Zeno,
iii. 454.

Athenodorus of Tarsus, the Stoic, teacher
of Augustus AttaluB and at Home,
iv. 173.,

Athens, i-erfection of licr poesy long prior
to that of her philosoiiliy, i. 169. The
jihilosophical converged towards, frf>m
cast, west, and north, almost simulta-
neously, i. 187. The centre of literary
movement and Greek enlightenment,
i. 282, ii. 2. Her political 8ui>criority
rapidly followed by |)re-cminence in
science arul art, i. 527. Her feeble

693

GENERAL INDEX.

effort after Alexander's death to free
herself from the Macedonian yoke, iii.
377. Total loss of her independence
by the Lamian war, ibid. Impiety and
prostration of, iii. 37!). Her decline as
the chief seat of philosophy, period
and causes of, iv. G4, &c.

Atomists, the, in what having some rela-
tion to the Eleatae and Empedocles, i.
539; and to the Pythagoreans, ibid.
Doctrines of, 542—572,

Atticus, T. Pomponins, an adherent of
the Epicurean school, iv. 82.

Atticus, the neo-Platonist, opinions of, iv.
235 &c.

Babylonia, Plato, said to have learnt as-
tronomy in, ii. 147.

Bacon, why he despised the superficial
philosophy of the schools, ii. 61.

Balbus, L. Lucilius, and Q,. Lucius, both
favourable to Stoicism, iv. 81.

Barbarians, see Greeks.

Berosus, fragments of, i. 50.

Bhagavad-Ghita, the poem so called, cha-
racter of, decidedly philosophical, i. 77.
Doctrine of, iv. 360, &c.

Bias, according to some a teacher of
Pythagoras, i. 31^2.

Boeckh, genuineness of the fragments of
Philolaus established by him, i. 349.

Boethius of Sidon, a scholar of Andro-
nicus of Rhodes, and commentator on
Aristotle, iv. 240.

Brahm, the living, argument against the
world having been produced from, iv.
370. Vedanta doctrine concerning,
iv. 390, &c. 397, &e. Or the universal
soul, various interpretations of, i. 120,
&c. Creation represented as a sacri-
fice of, i. ] 22.

Brahmanical religion, upon what founded,
i. 63. Three periods of history of, i.
90.

Brahmans, the orthodox, their system of
philosophy to whom attributed by them,
i. 103.

Brontinus Euryphemus, fragments as-
signed to, manifestly spurious, i. 347.

Brutus, M., opinions and works of, iv.
79.

Buddha Hindoo worship of, i. 93, 105.
The last, called Gotama, i. 102; and
Kasjapa, i. 103. Age of, i, 104.

Buddhas and Dschinas, the earliest Hin-
doo saints, attained to the supremacy of
the gods, i. 102.

Buddhism, a later development of the
Indian mii.d, i. 64. Doctrine of, i.
88, 94. Supposed to have had its root
in the Sankhya philosophy, i. 95. Pe-

riod of its greatest importance, i. 104.
Confusion of, in later times, with the
Brahmanical worship, how accounted
for, i. 105,
Buddhists, the, and Dschinas, attribute
a portion of their sacred writings to the
two Golamas, i. 102. Doctrines of,
iv. 334.

Cadmos, character of his historical writ-
ings, i. 144.

Csesars, the first, virtues of the Roman
citizen extinguished by their cruelty, iv.4.

Caligula, csuse of the Jews pleaded by
Philo with, iv. 407.

Callisthenes, scholar and kinsman of
Aristotle, left to supply his place about
the person of Alexander, iii. 9.

Calvisius Taurus, a neo-Platonist, his
treatise on the differences between the
opinions of Plato, Aristotle, and the
Stoics, iv. 234.

Caracal la, the emperor, his mad hatred of
Aristotle, iv. 70.

Carneades, of Cyrene, the New Academy
principally formed by him, ii. IS. His
life and doctrines, iii. 608, &c. Doc-
trines of, rejected by Cicero, iv. 132.

Cassander, Demetrius Phalereus invested
with authority at Athens bv his power,
iii. 378.

Cassius, C. an adherent of the Epicurean
school, iv. 82.

Catius, his writings on the physical sys-
tem of Epicurus, iv. 84.

Cato, the elder, his advice to the Romans
on account of the oratorical powers of
Chrysippus, iii. 609. Applied himself to
the study of Greek in his old age, iv. 75.

Cato, the younger, a hearer of Antipater
of Tyre and Athenodorus, glory con-
tributed by him among his countrymen
to the Stoical philosophy, iv. 81, 173.

Cebes, a scholar of Philolaus and Socrates,
i. 348.

Cercops, an ancient Pythagorean, main-
tained by some to be the author of the
Holy Legend, &c. i. 353,

Ceylon, when Buddhism first penetrated
into it, i. 104.

Chajrecrates, a companion of Socrates,
ii. 79.

Chaerephon, an associate of Socrates in
philosojihical studies, ii. 20. Oracle
given to, resjiecting Socrates, ii. 40, 78.

Chaldeans, the, philosophy of, why to be
passed over without notice, i. 1. Ac-
cording to some, taught Pythagoras as-
tronomy, i. 332.

Charmidas, member of the New Aca-
demy, scholar of Clitomachus, iii. 620.

GENERAL INDEX.

697

Charondas, code of, i. 326 .

Chinese, the, and the kindred races, dis-
tinct from the other Asiatic nations, i.
56. Great riches of romantic fiction
found among, ibid. Chronolog}' of,

^' not so involved as that of the Hindoos,
i. 57. Ancient history of, ibid. Their
character, to what favourable, ibid.
The existence of any philosophy among
them questionable, i. 59, &c.

Chosrocs, the Persian king, character of,
iv. 665.

Chrysanthus, a neo-Platonist, iv. 633.

Chrysippus, the Stoic, development of
philosophy, in its important sense,
ceases with, ii. 15. On the doctrine and
sophisms of Stilpo, ii. 136. Alone
surpassed Epicurus in the number of
his writings, iii. 404. His life and doc-
trines, iii. 461, 468, 472, 477, 488,
491, 494, 499—503, 517, 521, 525,
527, 533, 539, 540, 550, 551, 554, 556
—560, 5C3, 567, 582. The most emi-
nent of the opponents of Arcesilaus,
iii. 602 ; and of Carneades, 609. Doc-
trines of, adopted or rejected by Car-
neades, iii. 615, 616. His doctrine on
the division of the soul opposed by Posi-
donius, iii. 625, 623.

Cicero, a lover of the New Academy, i.
278. The Pythagorean orgies per-
verted in his time, i. 352. His expo-
sition of the Pythagorean notion of
God, 369. Compares Dcmocritus'
style to that of Plato, i. 547. On the
style of Aristotle, iii. 21, 22. Panaj-
tius' treatise On the Becoming adapted
by him to the Roman public, iii. 423.
On the doctrines of Aristo, iii. 456, (Jf
Herillus, iii. 458. A hearer of Posido-
nius, iii. 624; and of Philo of Larissa,
iii. 632, iv. 78. On the character of the
Roman Epicureans, iv. 97. His life, cha-
racter, and philosoijhy, iv. 99 — 160.
Doctrines of, adopted or rejected by
Seneca, i v. 178 — 181, 183, The scep-
tical school coiisidered by him extinct
in his time, iv. 259.

Cleanthcs, the disciple of Zeno, his life and
doctrines, iii. 459, 477, 491, 493, .525,
550, 559, 564.

Clinias, a Pythagorean, left no written
monument Ijchind him, i. 349.

Clitomachus, the pu()il of Carneades, the
lectures of his master known to us
through him, iii. 610. A faithful ad-
herent to his master's opinions, iii.
620.

Colebrooke, his conjecture respecting
Buddhism, i. 88, Opinicm of, regardinfr
the Nedas, &c. of the Hindoos, i. (•'.>,

&c. 91. His division of the systems
of Indian philosophy, iv. 332, &c.

Colophon, famous as the seat of elegiac
and gnomic poetry, i. 425.

Confucius, writings ascribed to, contain
merely trite rules of life, &c. 58.

Corax and Tisias, first published a written
treatise upon the principles of elo-
quence, i. 527.

Crantor, a member of the Old Academy,
ii. 471. Said to have been the first
commentator on Plato, 472. Arcesi-
laus of Pitane, a scholar of, iii. 600.
A work of, strongly recommended by
Panaetius, iii. 622.

Crates, the Cynic, character of, ii, 123,
first preceptor of Zeno, iii. 450.

Crates, the Academician, ii. 471.

Crates, of Mallos, a preceptor of Pansetius,
iii. 621.

Cratylus, Plato in his youth instructed by
him in the system of Heraclitus, ii, 145.

Creophilus, according to some a teacher
of Pythagoras, i, 332,

Crete, the Idean Cave in, Pythagoras re-
presented as having been initiated in the
secret mysteries of, i, 337. Constitution
of, in what respect confessed by Plato
to be preferable to the Athenian, ii. 427.

Critias, his close intimacy with .'focrates,
i ii. 29. Oliject of, in frequenting his
society, ii. 79.

Crito, a companion of Socrates, ii. 79.
His proffered means of escape rejected
by him, ii. 31.

Critobulus, son of Crito, a companion of
.Socrates, ii. 79.

Critolaus, the Peripatetic, iii. 371.

Cronius, doctrines of, iv. 510.

Croton, medical school at, i. 326. Py-
thagoras' migration to, i. 338. Influ-
ence of the Pythagoreans in, 314,

Crotoniats, the, call Pythagoras the Hy-
perborean Apollo, i, 330. Their refusal
to deliver u]) the fugitive nobles of Sy-
baris, and destruction of that city, i,
344, &c,

Cy Ion, refused admittimce into the society
of the I'ylhagoreans, i. 345. Heads
the po|iul!ir ])arty in an attack upon
them, ibid.

Cynics, the, ii. 108—123. Dogma of,
that pica.sure coTisists in the negation of
pain, refuted liy Plato, ii. 390. An
iniit'itioii of, recommended by the
Stoics, iii, 562. Predilection of Kpic-
tctus for them, iv, 199. The New,
doctrines of, iv. 166 — 172.

CyrenaicH, the, ii. 84—107. Doctrines of,
adopted or rejected bv Epicurus, iii.
j(i7_4()<i, 112, 417.

698

GENERAL INDEX.

Cyrene, a colony of the Minyae, ii. 84.

Damascius, the neo-Platonist/writings and
doctrines of, iv. 6G2, &c.

Damon and Pythias, numbered among
the Pythagoreans, i. 416.

Demetrius Phalereus, a Peripatetic phi-
losopher, pernicious influence of his ex-
ample upon the morals of the Athe-
nians, iii. 378.

Demetrius Poliorcetes, impiously wor-
shipped as a god by the Athenians, and
also by the cities of Sicyon and Argos,
iii. 378, 379.

Demetrius, the first of the new Cynics,
character and doctrines of, iv. 167, &c.

Demonax of Cyprus, character and doc-
trines, of, iv. 169, &c.

Democritus, a professor of atomism, i. 158.
Death extolled by him, i. 533. And the
Atomists, interdicted all inquiry, i. 534.
The sophistical habit not so manifest in,
as in Protagoras and Gorgias, i. 541.
His life and doctrines, i. 542—572.
Contrasts truth with sensuous appear-
ance, i. 601. Doctrine of, that good con-
sists in'pleasure, amply refuted in Plato's
dialogues, ii. 390. Theory of, deny-
ing that anything asserted of another
does not really belong to it, iii. 70.
Reduced the essence and form of things
to the corporeal figure, iii. 1 44. Usual-
ly referred to as one of the two prin-
cipal sources of Pyrrho's doctrine, iii.
383. Doctrines of, adopted or rejected
by Epicurus, iii. 407, 418, 429, 431—
434, 439, 446. The Stoics at variance
with, iii. 514, Praised by Posidonius,
iii. 626.

Dialecticians, the Megarian philosophers
why so called, ii. 127. Usually referred
to as one of the principal sources of
Pyrrho's doctrine, iii. 383.

Dicaearchus, the Peripatetic, disciple of
Aristotle, deviated from his master's
notion of the soul, iii. 364, 365. Pans-
tius' deference to his authority, iii. 622.

Dio, of Syracuse, attempts by Plato's
lessons to reform the character of the
younger Dionysius, i. 149.

Diochretes, according to some, a preceptor
of Parmenides, i. 425.

Diodes, a later Pythagorean, i. 352.

Diodorus, surnamed Cronos, a Megarian
philosopher, sophisms of, ii. 130, &c.
A preceptor of Zeno, iii. 451; and of
Arcesilaus, 621.

Diodorus Siculus, hypothesis transmitted
by him on the origin of men and brutes,
i. 275.

Diodotus, the Stjic, Cicero's instructor in I
dialectic, iv. 101. I

Diogenes of ApoUonia, a disciple of An-
aximenes, i. 189. A dynamical physio-
loger, 1, 193. Holds the primary sub-
stance to be found in seed, i. 202. His
life and doctrines, i. 210 — 229. Ad-
vance made by him in the dynamical
physiology, i. 591.
Diogenes Laertius, summaries of Epicu-
rus preserved by him, iii. 404.
Diogenes of Seleucia, the Stoic, a scholar
of Chrysippus, iii. 593. Doctrines of,
ib., &c.
Diogenes of Sinope, the Cynic, character

and doctrines of, ii. 122, 123.
Dionysius the elder, his acquaintance with
and imprisonment of Plato, ii. 148, &c.
Dionysius the younger, and Plato, let-
ters between, unquestionably spurious.
148. Many anecdotes of the intimacy
of Aristippus with, ii. 85.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, testimony of,

regarding Plato, ii. 174.
Dionysodorus, the Sophist, a position of,

i. 588.
Domitian, the philosophers why expelled

by him from Rome, iv. 68, 196.
Dogmatists, the, attacked by the Scep-
tics, iii. 388. Attacked by Carneades,
iii. 609. Doctrines of, rejected or as-
sented to by Cicero, iv. 122, 131. De-
sign of the New Sceptics in their attack
upon, iv. 282, &c.
Dryson or Bryson, the Dialectician, the

teacher of Pyrrho, iii. 383.
Dschaimini, i. 103.
Dschajadeva, author of the Gita-Govinda,

age of, i. 79.
Dschina, the last, a disciple of, called Go-

tama, i. 102.
Dschinas and Buddhas, the earliest Hin-
doo saints, i. 102.
Dschinism, doctrine of, i. 94. More or
less resembles Buddhism, i. 100. Re-
garded by the present Hindoos as the
same with Buddhism, i. 101.
D'Schinists, the, doctrines of, iv. 334.
Dwapajana, i. 67.

Dynamicists, the, doctrines of, adopted
or rejected by the Stoics, iii. 510,
525.

East, the, history of, its influence upon
the present enlightenment of Europe,
i. 39, &c. National destinctions in,
probably greater, than in the West,
56. Nations of, fatal influence upon
the morals of the Greeks jjroduced
by their intercourse with, iii. .375. In-
fluence of its intercourse with Greece
and Rome, iv. 14, &c.

Echecrates, a later Pythagorean, i. 352.

GENERAL INDEX.

699

Eclecticism, character of, iv. 36.

Ecphantiis, not a Pythagorean, i. 347.
Opinion of, that numbers are corporeal,
i. 540.

Egyptians, the, philosophy of. why to be
passed over without notice, i. 50. Lan-
guage of, in the oldest times not under-
stood by the Greek philosophers, i,
151. Whether Pythagoras' preceptors
in geometry, i. 33"3. Doctrme of me-
tempsychosis a public doctrine among
them in the time of Pythagoras, i. 334.
Symbolism and hieroglyphics of, i, 335.
Doctrines of, rejected or adopted by
Porphyry, iv. 615, ice.

Eleatic philosophy, the, i. 421 — 424.
Compared with the Pythagorean and
Ionic systems, i. 598.

Eleatse, the, doctrines of, that All is one,
and that All is one immutable being,
refuted by Plato, ii. 248, iScc. His ob-
ject in so doing, 254. Opinions of,
Plato's decided bias for, ii. 447. Doc-
trines of, adopted and improved by
him, ibid., &c. Maintained that every-
thing may be predicated of one and the
same object, iii. 75. That all is rest,
ibid.

Eleusis, mysteries in, relics of the Pelas-
gian worship, i. 139.

Elian school, the, ii. 141.

Empedoclea, the Delphic priestess, Pytha-
goras stated by some to have received
his ethical doctrines from, i. 337.

Empcdocles, of Agrigentum, moulded the
popular superstitions into a peculiar
theogony, &c., i. 136. God- lore of,
i. 139. Not a Pythagorean, i. 347.
His opinions on the origin of man,
apparently in accordance | with those of
Parmenides, i. 464. His life and doc-
trines i. 487—524, 600. Regarded
the moral end as the basis of all order
in the universe, i. 531. Dogma of,
respecting perception borrowed by
Gorgiiis, i. 587. llispocm, the model
imitated by Lucretius, iv. 84.^

Ej)ic poets, the, reason of Plato's attack
upon them, ii. 282.

Epictetus, the Stoic, life, character, and
doctrines of, iv. 196, &c.

Epicurean pliilosojihy, the, character of,
among the Romans, iv. 82, 99.

Epicureans, the, found more advocates
among the Romans than any other sect,
iv. 77.

Epicurus, hisjlifc, school, and doctrines,
iii. 399 — 447. Character of his doc-
trine, iii. 649. And the EjticureanH,
doctrines of, rejected or adopted bv the
Stoics, iii. t47), 475, 182. 483, '6<i!»,

512, 514, 537, 554, 588. Bv Cicero,
iv. 110, 120, 123, 124, 129, 135, 145.
14G. By Seneca, iv. 181. Bv Epic-
tetus iv. 198. By Plutarch, iv.' 487.

Epimcnides, god-lore of, i. 139. Pro-
bable cause of Xenophanes' hostility
to, i. 427.

Erennius, a disciple of Ammonius, iv.
525.

Eretrian school, the, doctrine of, ii. 1 41 .

Eristici, the Megarian jihilosophers, why
so called, ii. 127.

Essenes, the, Philo's praise of, iv. 411.

Ethiopians, the, their gods how repre-
sented by them, i. 432,

Evander, the disciple of Lacydes and
member of the New Academy, iii. 608.

Eubulides of Miletus, a Megarian philoso-
pher, fallacies of, ii. 128.

Euclid, the Megarian philosopher, doc-
trines of, iii. 24, &c. Attacked by
Plato, ii. 152.

Eudemus, the Peripatetic, disciple of Ari-
stotle, said to have left behind him
works bearing the same title as those of
Aristotle, iii. 26.

Eudemus of Rhodes, disciple of Ari-
stotle, adhered more faithfully to his
master than Theophrastus, iii. 3.55. His
objection to Anaxagoras' notion of mo-
tion, i. 299.

Eudoxus, not a Pythagorean, i. 347,

Eunapius, a neo-Platonist, testimony of,
respecting yKdesius, iv. 631.

Europe, nations of, to what principally
indebted for their jircscnt enlighten-
ment, i. 39, &c. Inhabitants of the
colder regions of, why, according to
Aristotle, incapalile of good political
institutions, iii. 319.

Euripides, stood in the closest relation of
intimacy with Anaxagoras, i. 252.

Eurytus, a Pythagorean, j)nibalily left no
written monuments behind him, i. 349.
Practice of defining certain notions liy
certain numbers carried furthest bv
him, i. 392.

Euthydemus the sojjhist, doctrines of,
i. 588.

Euxenus, a Pytliagorcan, teacher of
Apollonius, iv. 4!12.

Favurinus, a nco-I'latonist, iv. 239.

GnlenuH, ('laudius, the jdiysician, works
and doctrines of, iv, 200, i».v.

GalluH, AquiliuB, fuvourublc to .Stoicism,
iv. 81.

Gauls, Druids of the, termed pliilosojjhcrs
by the Greeks, 1. 106.

Gernnns, the, contact of, willi the Ro-

roo

GENERAL INDEX.

mans, its effects upon the character of
each nation, iv. 26, &c.

Gita-Govinda, the, of the Hindoos, i. 79.

Gorgias, boasted equal skill in continuous
discourse and dialogue, i. 536. Occu-
pied himself with the natural sciences,

■ ' i. 538. Affinity between, and the Ele-
ata3, i. 539. His life and doctrines i.
576—589, 602. Antisthenes originally
his disciple, ii. 108.

Gotamaor Gautama, i. 63. Given out as
the founder of the Niaya philosophy, i.
102. Who so called, ibid.

GrJfeco-Roman philosophy, the character,
history, and doctrines of, iv. 53, &c. 75
— 330.

Grseco-Oriental philosophy, the character
of, iv. 53, &:c.

Greeks, the oldest, their accounts of
India, i. 106. Philosophy of, its ori-
gin, i. 129 — 165. Philosophy of,
tendencies in the diffusion of, among
the Romans and Orientals, preliminary
remarks upon, iv. 1 — 74. Philosophy
of, influence of Indian philosophy
upon, i. 114, &.C., iv. 401, &c. In
Pythagoras' time, already acquainted
with the first principles of scientific
mathematics, i. 336. Pythagoras'
religious conceptions drawn from them,
i. 337. Races of, represented by Plato
as forming one political unity, and a
war among, as a mere party out-break,
ii. 417. The human race divided by
them into Greek and Barbarian, 417,
422. In Plato's time, beginning to be
favourably disposed towards a mon-
archy, 426. That they should rule
over the Barbarians, considered just by
Aristotle, iii. 311. A tolerable con-
stitution why asserted by Aristotle to
be possible among them only, iii. 319.
Causes of the depravation of the moral
character of, iii. 375. Accounted by
him far superior to all barbarians, iii.
341 — 354. Literature of, iv. 14.
Causes of its corruption and decline,
iv. 14, &c. Atomic theory of, that of
the Hindoos different from, iv. 370, &c.
And Romans, character of, compared,
iv. 2, &c. And Romans religion with,
very secondary, iv. 8. And Romans,
influence of their arts and sciences upon
the present cnJightenmcnt of Europe,
39, &c.

Gymnosophists of India, the, in their
asceticism probablv imitated by Pyrrho,
iii. 384.

Hadrian, the emperor, his liberality to-
wards Athens, iv. G6.

Hebrews, the, did not possess any theories
of philosophy, 51.

HecatfEus, character of his history, i. 144.

Hegesias the Cyrenaic, life and doctrines
of, ii. 102, &c,

Hegesias or Hegesilaus, successor of
Evanderin the New Academy, iii. 608.
Preceptor of Carneades, ibid.

Helvidius Priscus, a martyr to Stoicism,
iv. 173.

Heraclides, the Sceptic, iv. 258.

Heraclitists, the later, character of, i. 261.
Historical connexion between them
and Heraclitus, a matter of the greatest
uncertainty, i, 262.

Heraclitus of Ephesus, derided the super-
stitions of the multitude, i. 136. Doc-
trines of, referred by some to the fire-
worship of the Magi, i. 163. A dyna-
micist, i. 194. The older god-lore
impugned by him, i. 630. Held the
moral end as the basis of all order in
the universe, i. 531. Doctrine of, in
what agreeing with that of Protagoras,
i. 575. Carried the dynamical physi-
ology to its highest pitch, i. 593. Doc-
trines of, diligently studied by Plato,
ii. 155. His life, character, and
doctrines, i. 141, 163, 202, 250—
264; iii. 70,75. The work of, com-
mended by Socrates, ii.'47. His doc-
trine of perpetual flux refuted by Plato,
ii. 229. Plato's objectin so doing, 254.
His dynamical physiology, principal
features of Plato's theory of the uni-
verse derived from, ii. 446. Doctrines
of, rejected or agreed in by the Stoics,
iii. 510, 527, 529, £30, 533, 534.

Herillus the Stoic, disciple of Zeno,
openly deviated from the views of his
master iii. 455, His doctrines, iii.
457, &c.

Hermes, Pythagoras according to some
accounted the son of, i. 330.

Hermes Trismegistus, i. 74. His doctrine
the foundation of mvsterious worship,
iv. 621.

Hermias, the tyrant of Atarneus, Xeno-
crates and Aristotle residents at his
court after the death of Plato, ii. 453 ;
iii. 7. A scholion written by Aristotle
in his praise, iii. 10.

Hermippus, makes' Empedocles a disciple
of Xenophanes, i. 489.

Hermodamas, according to some a
teacher of Pythagoras, i. 332.

Hennotimus of Clazomenfe, rcjiresented
by Aristotle as the teacher of Anaxa-
goras, i. 281.

Herodotus, traces of a connexion of the
history of heroes and men with that of

GENERAL INDEX.

701

the gods discernible in, i. 144. On the
Oriental nations, i. 151, Attributes
the Bacchic and Orphic orgies to an
Egyptian origin, i. 140. Light in
which he views foreign religious rites,
i. 150. Derives Pythagoras' doctrine
of metempsychosis from Egypt, i. 155.
Questions the reality of many under-
takings attributed to Thales, i. 195.
Holds geometry to have been brought
into Greece from Egypt, i. 333. Tes-
timony of, respecting the secret worship
of the Pythagoreans, i. 331. Terms Py-
thagoras' religious doctrinesorgie3,i. 338.
Herodotus the Empiric, iv. 2'il.
Herpyllis, concul)ine, and subsequently

wife of Aristotle, iii. 8.
Hesiod, theogony of, doctrine traced in, by
Aristotle, i. 130. Theology of, i. 142.
Xenophancs' hostility to, i. 427, 431.
Hestifflus, Plato's disciple, more and
more occupied himself with dis'iuisi-
tions on the nature of numbers, ii. 457.
Hindoos, the, see Indians.
Hippasus of Met.ipontium, according to
some, the teacher of Heraclitus, i. 230,
Not a Pythagorean, i. 347.
Hippias of Elis, publicly taught arith-
metic, geometry, &c., i. 538.
Hippo, doctrine of, on the first principle,
i, 20 1 . Regarded as an avowed atheist,
i. 530.
Homer, poems of, compared with the
Hindoo Ilamajana, i. 78, 83. Doc-
trine referred to a verse in, i. 130.
And Hesiod, exhibit many traces of
Oriental fable, i. 132. Their poems
the sources of Greek god-lore, i. 135.
Myths of, a moral exposition given to
them by Anaxagoras, i. 283. Hostility
of Xenophanes to, i. 427, 431. Rea-
son why attacked by Plato, ii. 282.
A verse of, adduced by Aristotle in
support of his theory of one moving
cause, iii. I'Jl.

•lamblichus, the neo-Platonist, on the doc-
trines of Thales, i. 154. Work en-
titled. The Answer of Abammon to
Porphyry's Letter to Anebos, .'iscribcd
to him, iv. (Jl'J. His life, writings, and
doctrines, iv, 027, &tc.

Jarchas, the Indian, doctrines taught by
hirn to Apollonius, iv. 482.

J;i8on, disciple of Posidonius, iv. 65.

JerusJilcm, priests of, held by Phiio
among the first of sages, iv. 40!).

Jews, the, priests of, termed philosophers
by the (Jreeks, i. \ur,. Plato said to
have received a knowledge of the true
God from, ii. 147. Cabala of, its date,

iv, 402. A custom of, instanced by
Porphyry in support of his doctrine, iv.
015.

Indians, the, philosophy of, i. 60 — 128 ;
iv. 331—406, Their natural talent
for what adapted, i. 108. A doctrine
found among them as much entitled to
the name of philosophy as the writings
of Epicurus and Democritus, iv. 59.

Indo-Germanic languages, the, i. 01.

Indra, a god of the Hindoos, i. 93.

Jocasta and CEdipus, intercourse of, held
by the Stoics as a matter of indifference,
iii. 589.

Jones, Sir William, position of, respecting
the ordinances of Menu, i, 72.

Isidore, a neo-Platonist, scholar of Pro-
clus, iv. 602.

Isis and Osiris, worship of, recommended
by Plutarch, iv. 491, His doctrine
with regard to them, 498.

Isvara Krischna, the, a leading work
with the followers of the Sankya phi-
losophy, iv. 340, &c.

Italian colonies of the Greeks, the, by
whom planted, i. 326, Spirit of intiuiry
evolved in, contemporaneously with the
development of Ionian jihilosophy, i.
326. Spoken language of, inclined to
Dorism, i. 320. Orgies of Pythago-
ras most extensively diffused in, i. 338.

Itihasas, the i. 65, 70. Doctrine of, i.
92. Period of, i. 75.

Julian, the emperor, a friend and patron
of neo-Platonism, iv. 632,

•Julius, Cuius, a martyr to Stoicism, iv.
173,

Justin Martyr, testimony of, respecting
the neo- Pythagoreans, iv. 480,

.Justinian, the emperor, edict of, prohibit-
ing the teaching of pliilosojiliy at
Athens, iv. 665.

K.'u^japa, a surname of Kanada, i. 102.
Also a name of liuddlm, i, 103. The
last Dschina, a descendant of, ibid.

Kalidasa, the supposed restorer of the
Ramajana, i. 76. Poems and age of, 79,
&c. Every species of iKietryattcm|)t(<l
by him, i. 112. His writings referred
to the Nataks, i. 113. His Eutul Ring,
i. 127.

Kanada, founder of the Vaiseschika phi-
loMojiIiy, i. 2((2. Followers of, the
lihilosophers of the Viuseschika school
80 designated, iv. 369, Doctrines of,
iv. 309, 370, ;{7.3, &c.

Koiuias, lessons (if, on music, attended by
Socrates in liis old agr, ii. 18.

Kuniarila liiuitla, a Hindoo writer, i.
100.

702

GENERAL INDEX.

Krischna, dialogue between, and Ardschu-
na, i. 78. Hindoo worship of, i. 91,
93. Honoured by some as the one true
God, i. 96.

Lachares, the Athenian tyrant, iii. 380.

Lacydes, the disciple of Arcesilaus, a pre-
ceptor of Chrysippus, iii. 641. Com-
mitted no opinions to writing, iii. 602.

Laelius, C. a patron of Greek philosophy,
iv. 76.

Lais, Aristippus stated to have been in-
timate with, ii. 85.

Lao-tseu, his whole history a tissue of
extravagant fable, i. 59.

Latin language, master age of, of brief
duration, iv. 5.

Leucippus, the first Greek professor of
atomism, i. 158. Long prior to Prota-
goras, i. 541. His life and doctrine,
542—572.

Linus, mystic poesy and god-lore of, i. 139.

Locri, influence of the Pythagoreans in, i.
344.

Longinus, a disciple of Ammonius, his
works and opinions, iv. 524, &c- Por-
phyry's preceptor in neo-Platonism, iv.
628.'

Lucian, treatise of, devoted to Demonax,
iv. 169. Testimony of, on Demetrius,
172. On Peregrinus Proteus, ibid.

Lucretius, his poem On the Nature of
Things, his doctrines, (Sec. iv. 83 — 99.

Lucullus, L. his preference for the doc-
trine of Antiochus, iv. 79.

Lycon, the peripatetic, iii. 371.

Lysis, a Pythagorean, the instructor of
Epaminondas, i. 348. Left no wjitten
monument behind him, 349.

Machiavelli, Aristotle's suggestions to
tyrants, &c., probably adopted by him
as a model, iii. 317.

Magi, the, according to some, Pythagoras'
preceptors in morality, &c., i. 332.
Said to have taught Plato the doctrines
of Zoroaster, ii. 147.

Maha-Bharatta, the, a heroic poem of the
Hindoos, i. 77. Reputed author of, ibid.

IMahesvara philosophy, the, disciples of, to
what they refer the origin of their doc-
trines, i. 103.

Maja, honoured by some Hindoos as the
one true God, i. 96.

Mandanis, the Brahman, what doctrine
held by him to be the best, i. 121.

Manetho, fragments of, i. 50.

Marseilles, long the chosen seat of learn-
ing, its schools, iv. 65.

Maximus, a neo-Platonist, iv. 633, 662.

Maximus Tyrius, doctrines of, iv. 230, &c.

Medo-Persian races, possessed no species
of philosophy, i. 51.

Megarian schoo'l, the, ii. 124—238.

Megarians, the, doctrine of, concerning
the possible, iii. 77. Doctrines of, re-
jected or agreed in by the Stoics, iii.
517. Character of their doctrine, 639.

Melissus, a young poet, the chief accuser
of Socrates, ii. 25.

Melissus of Samos, usually classed among
the members of the Eleatic sect, i.
422. His life and doctrines, i. 480 —
486, 600. According to some accounts
the preceptor of Leucippus, i. 543.
Arguments of, employed bv Gorgias,
i. 583, 584.

Mencius, works of, i. 58.

Menedemus, the Cynic, ii. 123.

Menedemus of Eretria, founder of the
Eretrian school, ii. 141. Arcesilaus of
Pitane, a scholar of, iii. 601.

Menippus, the Cynic, ii. 123.

Menodotus, testimony of, regai'ding the
Sceptics, iv. 258. Doctrines of, iv.
271, &c.

Menu or Manu, ordinances of, to what
period belonging, i. 72. Philosophical
doctrines in, 74. Not the work of a
single author, i. 72.

IMetapontum, influence of the Pythago-
reans in, i. 344. Pythagoras stated
to have died there, 345.

Metrocles, the Cynic, ii. 123.

Metrodonis, alone eminent among the
disciples of Epicurus, iii. 403. Doc-
trines of, iii. 410.

Miletus, most of the early philosophers
natives of, i. 542.

Milo, the Pythagorean, heads the Croto-
niats against the Sybarites, i. 344.

Mimansa philosophy, the, i. 100, &c.
Origin of, to what period to be re-
ferred, i. 112. The first, character of,
iv. 336, &c. The first, point on which
it agrees with the Vedanta, iv. 395,
and Yoga, ibid.

Mimnermus, a native of Colophon, i. 425.

Minerva, temple of, ^piofaned by the
Athenians, iii. 379.

Mitylene, flight of Aristotle and Xeno-
crates to, iii. 8.

Moderatus of Gadira, iv. 485.

Monimos, the Cynic, ii. 123.

Moschus or Mochus, origin of the atomic
theory assigned to him, i. 158.

Moses, legislation, &c. of, origin of Greek
philosophy ascribed by Philo to, iv.
409. Association of Aaron with, how
interpreted by Philo, iv. 420. A per-
fect contemplation of God denied to,
by Philo, 435.

GENERAL INDEX.

703

Museus, mvstic poesy and god-lore of,

i. 139.
Musoiiius Rufiis, L. the Stoic, doctrines

of, iv. 188,&:c.

Nataks, or Cosmical poems of the Hin-
doos, the writings of Kalidasa referred
thereto,!. 113.

Neleus of Scepsis, Aristotle's writings
bequeathed to, bj' Theophrastus, iii. 24.

Neo-Platonic philosophy, the, iv. 521 —
666.

Neo-Platonists, the, traditions of, i. 153.

Neo- Pythagoreans, the, iv. 479, &c.

Nicholaus of Damascus, a commentator
on Aristotle, iv. 240.

Nicomachus, the father of Aristotle,
said to have lefl many works on medi-
cine and natural history behind him,
iii. 1. Descent of, ibid.

Nicomachus of Gerasa, iv. 485.

Niaya philosophy, i. 74, 100. Reputed
founder of, i. 1 02. Origin of, to what
period to be referred, i. 112. Character
and development of, iv. 339, 364 —
376, &:c.

Nirutka, the, of the Hindoos, i. 74.

Numenius, character and doctrines of, iv.
511,

Ocellus Lucanus, treatise on the nature of
the All assigned to him, not the work
of a Pythagorean, i. 347.

CEnomaus of Gadara, the Cynic, writings,
character, and doctrines of, iv. 170, &c.

Ofilius, L. Aulus, inclined to Stoical doc-
trines, iv. 81.

Onesicritus, the Cynic, ii. 123.

Onomacritus, god-lore of, i. 139.

Orestes, his sensation true, when he be-
lieved he sfiw the Furies, iii. 424.

Origen, a disciple of Ammonius, iv. 525.

Orpheus, mystic poesy and god-lore of,
i. 1.39.

Orphic lore, the, doctrine of, respecting
the birth of things, i. 142. Mysteries,
Pytli.'igoras' secret lore not seldom iis-
sociatcd therewith, i. 337.

PjEtus, Thraseus, a martyr to Stoicism,
iv. 173.

Panjctius of Rhodes, a later Stoic, the
scholar and successor of Antipater,
doctrines of, iii. 621, &c. The Romans
initiated by him in the Platonic and
Stoical philosoi)hy, iv. 76. Doctrines
of, rejected or assented to by Cicero,
iii. 623 ; iv. 154,

Panini, i. 87.

Parahatcs,aC>Tcnaic philosopher, Hogcsias
said to have been the discijjlc of, ii. 102.

j Parnienides of Elea, moulded the popular
superstitions into a peculiar theogony,
&c. i. 136. One of the most dis-
tinguished members of the Eleatic
sect, i. 422. His life and doctrines,
i. 445 — 468, 599. Regarded by some
as the preceptor of Leucippus, i. 542.
Fundamental principle of atomism
controverted by him, i. 543, His pro-
phecy respecting the young Socrates,
ii. 52. His doctrines diligently studied
by Plato, ii. 155.

Parthians, the, zealously cultivated Greek
literature.

Pasupata, the, doctrine of, concerning
God, opposed bv the Vedanta, iv. 385,
&c, 393.

Pelasgians, the Tyrrhenian, Pythagoras a
descendant of, i. 327, 337.

Peregrinus Proteus, the Cjnic, iv. 172.

Pergamus, school of Greek erudition in,
ii. 10,

Pericles, the formation of his eloquence
greatly contributed to by the precepts
of Anaxagoras i. 282. During his ad-
ministration the glory of Athens at its
height, i. 527, In his ago education
freely open to all, ii. 18. Plato born
about the time of his death, ii. 144.

Peripatetic, Aristotle's school why so
called, iii. 9.

Peripatetics, the, character and doc-
trines of, iii. 355—371. Doctrines of,
adopted or rejected by Cicero, iv. 1 ] 3,
119, 124—126, 145, 148—150, 156.
By Musonius, iv. 194.

Persian hinguagc, the, in the oldest times
not understood by the Greek philoso-
phers, i. 151.

Pht'edo of Elis, a scholar of Socrates,
founder of the Elian school, ii. 141.

Phaidrus, the Epicurean, Cicero's first
teacher in philosophy, iv. 101.

Phi'Lnarcte, the mother of Socrates, in
what respect likened by him to himself,
ii. 51.

Phaethon, Pythagorean c.\i)lanation of
the story of, i. 402.

Phnlaris, cruel pleasures of, regarded by
Aristotle as consequences of nature,
and therefore not subject to the moral
estimate, iii. 270.

Phanias, the Peripatetic, sjiid to have
written works bearing the sjime title as
those of Aristotle, iii. 26.

PherecydcH .'>yrug, the mytliogr;i]ili
charncter of his historical writings, i.
14>. Hi»df)ctrinc8, i, 1 15. Erroneouy-
ly stated to have been n preceptor of
Pytha«or.i8, i, 156, 3.",2-3;i5. His
opinions on the nature of things, nc-

704

GENERAL INDEX.

cording to Aristotle, widely opposed to
those of the Pythagoreans, 336.

Philip of Opus, a scholar of Plato, the
Epinomis attributed to, ii. 1G4.

Philip of Macedon, makes Aristotle the
tutor of his son Alexander, iii. 8.

Philo, the Dialectician, iii. 383.

Philo of Larissa, the Academician, a dis-
ciple of Clitomachus, doctrines of, iii.
632, &c. A teacher of the New Aca-
demy at Rome, iv. 77. A preceptor
of Cicero, iv. lOl, 111.

Philo the Jew, character, writings, and
doctrines of, iv. 407 — 478. Doctrines
of, adopted or rejected by Plotinus,
iv. 542, 550, 557, 561. Doctrines of,
compared with those of Plutarch, iv.
507.

Pliilolaus, a Pythagorean, the teacher of
Simmias and'Cebes, i. 348. Fragments
of, proved to be genuine, i. 349. And
Archytas, knowledge possessed by the
ancients of the Pythagorean doctrinal
system confined to the writings of, i.
356. Authority of, referred to on the
Pythagorean doctrines, i. 361 — 413.
Anecdotes respecting, i. 409. Why
supposed by some to have been the
teacher of Democritus, i. 545. Divides
the world into three parts, Olympus,
Kosmus, and Uranus, i. 398.

Philostratus, his biography of Apollonius,
iv. 481, &c.

Phocioii, the citizenship of Athens, al-
though having him for its head, re-
jected by Xenocrates as a disgrace, iii.
377.

Phcenicians, the philosophy of, why to be
passed over without notice, i. 50. Ac-
cording to some, taught Pythagoras
arithmetic, i. 332.

Piso, Pupius, the only Roman adherent
of the Peripatetic school, iv. 77.

Plato, on the Orphic doctrines, i. 140.
On the ancient theologers, i. 141. His
character of the Egyptians and Phce-
nicians, i. 151. Alone to be looked to
for the true advancement of philoso-
phy, i. 175. Does not attribute any
particular philosopheme to Pythagoras,
i. 342. On the Pythagorean doctrine,
that the soul is the harmony of the
body, i. 406. On the Eleatic doc-
trines, i. 427. Held Parmenides to
be the chief of the Eleatic philoso-
phers, i. 446. Calls Zeno the Ele-
atic Palamedes, i. 470. On the
three chief points of Zeno's reasonings,
i. 471. On the doctrines of Protago-
ras, i. 575, 578 ; ii. 99. On Euthy-
demus andDionysodorus, i. 589. His

Apology of Socrates, ii. 26. His last
conversations of Socrates to be regarded
as authentic, ii. 31. On the doctrines of
Socrates, ii. 40, 44, 48, 50, 51, 52, 55,
57, 61, 64. Subjects which Socrates
conversed with him upon, ii. 80. On the
character of Antisthenes' doctrines, ii.
119. His life and writings, ii. 143 —
188. His opinion as to philosophy and
its parts, ii. 1 89—228. His dialectic, ii.
229—237. His physics, ii. 338—384.
His ethics, ii. 385—452. The Acade-
micians generally considered his truest
followers, ii. 453, On the intellectual
powers of Xenocrates, ii. 461. Ari-
stotle, a disciple of, iii. 2. His compari-
son between Aristotle and Xenocrates,
3. Terms on which Aristotle stood with
him, ibid., &c. Writings of, more
impressive than Aristotle's, iii. 12. His
view of philosophy an aspiration and a
passion, that of Aristotle a theory, 15.
Doctrines of, adopted or rejected by
Aristotle, iii. 33, 35, 37—41, 45—48,
52, 53, 56—59, 67, 70, 72, 75, 83, 87
—89, 95—99, 102—108, 112, 118,
123, 124, 127, 129, 137, 139, 142,
149, 150, 153, 155, 164, 165, 168,
170—172, 174, 178—180, 184, 187,
192, 193, 259, 264, 281, 289, 299, 313
— 317, 320, 323, 336, 338, 339. By
Epicurus, iii. 412, 414. By the
Stoics, iii. 470, 474,' 479, 482, 483,
490, 493, 505, 509, 523,534, 537, 546,
551,553,576, 579,580,592,595,622,
624, 625, 626, 628, 630, 632, By the
New Academicians, iii. 602, 604, 606,
607, 613, 614,616, 619. By Cicero, iv.
113, 115,119, 120, 128,142, 153,157,
159, 160. Bv Epictetus, iv. 197, 198,
202. By Philo the Jew, iv. 408, 418,
429, 437, 446, 455, 457, 458, 461, 468,
476. By Plutarch, iv. 487, 489, 492,
494_497, 500, 502, 503. By Ploti-
nus, iv. 534, 538. 540, 549, 552, 553,
560, 563, 573, 575; iv. 582, 594, 595.
By Proclus, iv. 642, 643, 650. Wide
difference of Theophrastus from, in his
views of life, iii. 259. Zeno's politics
composed in opposition to, iii. 453.
Supposed by many to have drawn his
doctrines from Socrates, Parmenides,
and Herachtus, iii. 601. Character of
his doctrine, iii. 641, &c. Less use
made of, by Cicero, than of the Stoics,
the Epicureans, and the New Academj',
iv. 110. His works diligently perused
by Cicero, iv. 114. His anamnesis,
the Vedanta doctrine on the knowledge
of the supra-sensible to be compared
with, iv. 381.

GENERAL INDEX.

(05

Plotinus, school of neo-Platonism founded
by him at Rome, iv. 79. Life, chai'ac-
ter, and doctrines of, iv. 526 — 607.

Plutarch, his testimony on the sophisms
of Stilpo, ii. 136. On the doctrines of
Thales, i. 154. Influence of the East
on Greek literature, &cc. evidenced in
his writings, iv. 15, 20. His Eclecticism,
iv. 241. His life, writings, and doc-
trines, iv. 485 — 507.

Plutarch, son of Nestorius, a neo-Platon-
ist, iv. 636.

Polemo, a member of the Old Academy,
his precept, live agreably to nature, ii.
471. A preceptor of Arcesilaus, 472;
of Zeno, iii. 451.

Pollio, Claudius, his Memorabilia of Mu-
sonius, iv. 189, Sec.

Polvbius, authority of, appealed to, iv.
157.

Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, poUtical re-
lations maintained by him with Egypt,
i. 333.

Polymnastus, a later Pythagorean, i. 352.

Pompey the Great, a hearer of Posidonius,
iii. 624.

Porphyry, a neo-Platonist, testimony of,
regarding Plotinus, iv. 5"^1. His life,
writings, and doctrines, iv. 608 — 627.

Posidonius of Apamea, a later Stoic, dis-
ciple of Pana;tius, derives the atomic
theory from Moschus or Mochus, i. 158.
Character and doctrines of, iii. 473,
624. School of, at Rhodes, iv. 65, 81,
102.

Proclus, a neo-Platonist, life, writings,
and doctrines of, iv. 638 — 662.

Prodicus of Coos, tlie Sophist, death ex-
tolled by him, i. 533. Pre-eminent in
the distinction of synonymous terms,
i. 536. A teacher of Socrates, ii. 17.

Protagoras, argument of Zeno against,
i. 472. Boasted equal skill in con-
tinuous discourse and dialogue, i.
536. Deprecated all acquaintance
with separate branches of instruction,
538. Doctrines of, only to be re-
garded as a corrui)tion of the Ionic
Dynaniicists, i. 53^. His position re-
specting the rjualities of things com-
bated by Democritus, i. 555. His
life and doctrines, i. 573 — 579. Main-
tained man to he the measure of truth,
i. 601. His dogma, that all is in a state
of motion, possessed of many points in
common with the system of Aristippus,
ii. 93. His dogma, that all knowledge
is sensation, a corruption of Hcraclitus'
doctrine of perpetual flux, ii. 230.
Plato's object in refuting it, ii. 254.

IV.

Proxenus of Atarueus, tutor of Aristotle,
iu. 2.

Ptolemy Philadelphus, uistructed by
Strato, iii. 365.

Ptolemy of Cyrene, the Sceptic, iv. 258.

Pnranas, the, i. 70, 74. When and by
whom composed, i. 75. Doctrines con-
tained therein, i. 97.

Pyrrho of Elis, head of the first school of
Sceptics, supposed intercourse of, with
the Indian Gymnosophists and Persian
Magi, i. 1 60. His life, character, and
doctrines, iii. 383, &c. Agreement
of Epicurus with, regarding true plea-
sure, iii. 418. Doctrines of, adopted
or rejected by Arcesilaus, iii. 605—607.

Pyrrhonism, Seneca ignorant of any con-
temporaneous teacher of, iv. 269.

Pyrrhonists, the, their doctrines repudi-
ated by Epictetus. iv. 198.

Pythagoras, his philosophy whence de-
rived, i. 154. His travels, &c., [ibid.
Doctrines of, referred to the fire-worship
of the Magi, i. 163. His age, life, and
doctrines, i. 326 — 357. His opinions
ridiculed by Xenophanes, i. 427. As-
signed by some as the preceptor of
Leucippus, i. 543. His doctrines dili-
gently studied by Plato, ii. 155. His
dogma against eating flesh recom-
mended by Porphyry, iv. 61C.

Pythagoreans, the, pious feeling of with
what connected, i. 136. God-lore of,
i. 139. Doctrines of, i. 326—420.
Held the moral end to be the basis of
all order in the universe, i. 53 1 . Theo-
ry of, that all at once is and is not, iii.
70. Two principal points of ditt'erence
between their philosophy and the Ro-
man systems of physiology,, i. 595.
Doctrines of, adopted or rejected by
Plato, ii. 330, 446. By Aristotle, iii.
123, 124, 127. By "Speusippus, ii.
45f!. By i'osidonius, iii. 626. Bv
Philo the Jew, iv. 40K, 438.

Pythias, daughter of Hcrmias, espoused
by Aristotle, iii. 8.

Rabinus, one of the first Latin writers on

ph)loso])liy, iv, 82.
Rama, a poem of Kulidasii on the deeds

of, i. 80. Hindoo worsliip of, i. !»1, 93.
Uamajana, tiie, of the lliniloos, i. 76.

Su|)]><>seii author of, ibid. Age of, i. 83.
Rig-Veda, i. 91.

Rhode, on the Hindoo Itimajana, i. 77.
Rliodes, schools of, iv. 14,64, &c.
Rogatian, a disciple of Plotinus, contempt

evinced l)y him for all earthly po.>-

Bcssions, iv. 529.

2 z

706

GENERAL INDEX.

Rome, literature and arts of, but echoes
of the Grecian, iv. 3. Empire of, causes
of its ruin, 4, &c. Literature of, causes
of its corruption, iv. 12, &c. From the
time of Hadrian and the Antonines,
long the chief seat of philosophy, iv.
69.

Sakontala, the Hindoo dramatic poem,
Kalidasa the reputed author of, i. 80.

Samos, in Pythagoras' time in constant in-
tercourse with Egypt, i. 333.

Samothrace, mysteries in, relics of the
Pelasgian worship, i. 139.

Sanchoniatho, fragments of, i. SO.

Sankara Atscharja, the Hindoo author,
i. 100.

Sankhya philosopher, the, i. 88, 100, &c.;
iv. 340 — 355. Origin of, to what pe-
riod to be referred,!. 112. The Siva-
ites said to have borrowed largely from,
iv. 334 Its character and development,
338. Doctrine of, on the opposition
between soul and nature impugned by
the Vedanta, iv. 384. Doctrine of,
held in common with the Vedanta and
Yoga, iv. 400.

Sarpedon, the Sceptic, iv. 258.

Sastra, the, of the Hindoos, i. 74.

Scaevola, Mucius, a disciple of Panaetius,
iv. 76. Favourable to Stoicism, iv. 80.

Sceptics, the, iii. 373—398. True dis-
tinction between them and the mem-
bers of the New Academy, iii. 606.
Character of their lioctrine, iii. 649,
&c. Doctrines of, rejected or agreed
in by the Stoics, iii. 482, 489, 491,537.
Objection of Epictetus against, iv. 199.
The New, iv. 228—330.

Scepticism, a sober, the form of philoso-
phy most suitable to Cicero's character,
iv. 107, HI.

Schleiermacher, certain dialogues of Plato
rejected by him as spurious, ii. 166.

Scipio Africanus, and other eminent Ro-
mans, Panastius the friend of, iii. 621.
One of the earliest patrons of Greek
philosophy, iv. 76.

Scriptures, the, allegorically interpreted
by Philo, iv. 409, 458.

Semitic races, the, no instances of the
drama or romance found among, 56.

Seneca, M. AnnaBus, the Stoic, testimony
of, respecting the Epicureans, iv. 97.
His life, character, and doctrines, iv.
174.

Sextius, Quintus, the Stoic, life and doc-
trines of, iv. 164, &c.

Sextus Empiricus, on the Heraclitic
theory of knowlege, i. 2."3. On the
Erapedoclean theory of cognition, i.

494. On the doctrines of Basilides, iv.
229. On the distinction between the
later Sceptics and the New Academy,
iv. 268. Sceptical works and doctrines
of, iv. 260, &c., 272—327.

Sicily, polished culture of poetry and
rhetoric in, i. 326. Plato's visits to,
ii. 148.

Sicyon, its impious flattery of Demetrius
Poliorcetes, iii. 379.

Simmias, a scholar of Philolaus and Socra-
tes, i. 348.

Simon, the cobbler, two spurious imita-
tions of the Platonic dialogues attri-
tributed to him, ii. 163.

Simplicius, his doctrine on the first prin-
ciple probably taken from Theophrastus
i. 201. On Anaxagoras' theory of
a beginning of motion, i. 299. On
the neo-Platonists, iv. 227. A com-
mentator on Aristotle, iv. 665,

Siva, honoured by some as the one true
God, i. 96. Origin of their doctrines re-
ferred by the disciples of the Mahesvara
philosophy to his revelations, i. 103.

Sivaites, the, doctrines of, iv. 334.

Socher, four of the most important dia-
logues of Plato rejected by him as
spurious, ii. 165.

Socrates, anecdote respecting the source
from which he derived his doctrines,
i. 160. Declared enemy of the So-
phists, i. 177. His intimacy with
Archelaus very doubtful, i. 319. No
account respecting the Pythagoreans
of the slightest historical certainty be-
fore his time, i. 347. In his extreme
youth acquainted with Parmenides, i.
445. Attention of, much occupied in
the investigation of the true forms of
thought and expression, i. 537. And
the Socraticists, ii. 1 — 15. His life
and character, ii. 16 — 40. His doc-
trines and school, ii. 40 — 53. Pow-
erful influence, of, on the mind of his
disciple Plato, ii. 145. This in
what chiefly discernible, ii. 297. Doc-
trines of, diligently studied by him,
ii. 158. Dialogistic manner of, the
chief object of his literary imitation,
i. 156. Dogma of, that no one is will-
ingly evil, used in various acceptations
by him, ii. 387. Imitated by him in
making it his first object to determine
the nature of good, ii. 449. Doctrines
of, adopted or rejected by Aristotle, iii.
102, 109, 136, 180, 262—270. By the
Stoics, iii. 499. By Epictetus, iv. 197,
198, 202, 209. By Philo, iv. 414. By
Cicero, iv. 113, 142, 146. His principle
that the definition of the notion is the

GENERAL INDEX.

ro7

only ground of true knowledge, en-
forced also bv the Is'vava philosophy,
iv. 366.

Socratic question, the, whether virtue is one
or many, Plato's conclusion respecting,
ii. 405. Doctrine, the, Plato the faith-
ful continuator and improver of, ii. 444.
Its character, iii. 638, ice. Method, the,
in what it essentially consisted, ii. 445.
Schools, the, invention of sophistical
questions a favourite occupation in,
, i. 537.

Socraticists, the imperfect, ii. 14, 142.

Solon, why, according to Aristotle, he in-
vested the whole body of the people
with the sovereignty, iii. 327 •

Sophists, the, i. 525 — 588. Parmenides
why frequently classed among, i. 471.
Compared with the lonians, Pytha-
goreans, and Eleata;, i. 601. Princi-
pal advantage contributed by their in-
fluence, ibid. &c. Doctrine of, that
good consists in pleasure, refuted by
Plato, ii. 390. Evil tendency of, op-
posed by Plato and Aristotle, iii. 382.
Opinion of Seneca respecting, iv. 192.

Sophron, Mimes of, had great influence on
the formation of Plato's style, ii. 156.

Sosigenes, a Peripatetic, employed by
Julius Caesar in the correction of the
calendar, iv. 240.

Sotion of Alexandria, the Stoic, preceptor
of Seneca, doctrines of, iv. 166.

Sparta, constitution of, in what respect
confessed by Plato to be preferable to
the Athenian, ii. 427.

Speusippus, nephew and successor of
Plato, doctrines
Assists Dio in a
against Dionysius
150.

Stagira, the birth-place of Aristotle, iii. 1.
After being destroyed by war, restored
by Philip at his entreaty, iii. 8.

Sta8eas,the Neapolitan Peripatetic, teacher
of Piso, iv. 77, "^Z'J. His doctrines, 78.

Stilpo, a Megarian j)hilo80i)her, his life
and doctrines, ii. 13(3, 6cc. A preceptor
of Timon, iii. 384 ; and of Zeno, iii.
451.

Stoics, the, their doctrines and name widely
diffused among the Ilomans, iv. 77, &c.
Lasting consideration enjoyed ))y them
at Rome, iv. 173. <J{)posed the grow-
ing corruption of tiie times, iii. 381.
Chief opponents of Arcesilaus, iii. 603;
and of Carneades, iii. 609, &c. As-
serted by Carneades to have differed
from the doctrines of the New Aca-
demy and Aristotle in words only, iii.
612. Character of their doctrine, iii.

of, ii. 453—460.
warlike expedition
the younger, ii.

642, &c. Doctrine of, held in common
with the Sankhya philosophy, iv. 404.

Doctrines of, adojited or rejected by
Cicero, iv. 110, 114,117, 118,120,124
— 126, 129, 130, 133, 135, 136, 139,
140, 146—150, 152, 156 ; by Philo the
Jew, iv. 408, 418, 446, 456", 457, 474.
By Plutarch, iv. 487, 501, 503. By
Plotinus, iv. 532, 535, 538, 564, 591.
The Earlier, life and writings of, iii.
449 — 466. Their opinions as to phi-
losophy and its parts, iii. 467 — 481.
Logic of, iii. 482—507. Ethics of, 557
—597. The Later, iii. 598— 658. The
New, doctrines of, iv. 173 — 227.

Stratocles, the Athenian demagogue, iii.
380.

Strato of Lampsacus, sumamed the Na-
turalist, life and doctrines of, iii, 365 —
370. Doctrines of, adopted or rejected
by the Stoics, iii. 509. By Cicero, iv.
137.

Sulpicius, Servius, favourable to Stoicism,
iv. 81.

Sybaris, influence of the Pythagoreans in, i.
344. Its destruction bv the Crotoniats,
ibid.

Sylla, said to have brought Aristotle's
writings to Rome, iii. 25.

Syrianus of Alexandria, the neo-Platonist
and commentator on Aristotle, doctrines
of, iv. 637.

Tarentum, influence of the Pytiiagoreans
in, i. 344.

Telecles, the disciple of Lacydes, and
member of the New Academy, iii. 608,

Tetys, in Pythagoras' time established
himself in the tyranny of Sybaris, i.
344.

Thales, the religious conce])tions which
gave rise to the Greek mythology half
forgotten in his time, i. 131. Character
of Greek j)oetry not to be determined
from tiie remains of poets of his time,
i. 143. .State of Greek pliilosojihy
then, i. 144. Whence derived his
doctrines, i. 154. His descent and
travels, i. 154. The earliest growtli of
Greek philosophy in his time, i. 172.
Founder of the Ionian philosophy, i.
109. A dynamical theorist, i. 19.3.
Earlier than any of the mcchaniciHts, i.
194. Mis life, doctrines, pliilosupliy,
&c. i. I.'*5 — 202. Accoriiiiig to some a
te.uhor of Pythagonis, i. 332. Why
attacked by Xeiiophanes, i. 427. First
held the ground of all things to be ii
seed, i. 590.

ThalefiiH, god- lore of, i, 139. Hin coii-
vcrMitions with Socrates, ii. W).

708

GENERAL INDEX.

Theages, subjects which Socrates con-
versed with him upon, ii. 30.

Theodorus, the Cyrenaic, school and doc-
trines of, ii. 99, &c. His interpretation
of Anaximander's meaning of the infi-
nite, i. 268. Calls Empedocles a dis-
ciple of Parmenides, i. 489. Conse-
quence deduced by him respecting the
sovereignty of love, i. 522. Had pos-
session of the Academy when Aristotle
taught in the Lyceum, iii. 9. Works
of Aristotle bequeathed to him, iii. 24.
Said to have left behind him works
with similar titles to those of Aristotle,
iii. 26. Said to have been selected by
Aristotle for his successor, iii. 355.
Original name of, 356. His life and
writings, 356 — 364. On the doctrines
of the Pythagoreans, i. 371. Panae-
tius' deference to his authority, iii.
622. On Democritus' theory of physics,
i. 556.

Therapeutse, the, Philo's praise of, iv. 455.
the Scriptures allegorically interpreted
by them, ibid.

Theudas, the Empiric, iv. 261.

Timaeus, works attributed to, clearly
shovs'n to be spurious, i. 347.

Timon of Phlius, the Sceptic, surnamed
the Sinograph, regarded as the best in-
terpreter of his preceptor Pyrrho, iii.
384. His life, works, and doctrines,
ibid. &c. Words put by him into the
mouth of Xenophanes, i. 443.

Torquatus, L., an adherent of the Epi-
curean school, iv. 82.

Thracians, the, their gods how repre-
sented by them, i. 432.

Tacharvaka, the sect, doctrines of, iv. 334.
Its dogma, that there is only one source
of knowledge, combated by the Ve-
danta phUosophy, iv. 380.

Tubero, Q. ^lius, a disciple of Panaetius,
iv. 76.

Tyrannion, Aristotle's works arranged
and edited by him, iii. 25, iv. 77.

Vaiseschika philosophy, the, i. 100.
Founder of, i. 102, Remarkable ana-
logy between, and the Buddhist doc-
trines, ibid. Its character, develop-
ment, and doctrines, iv. 339, 364 —
376, &c.

Valmiki, the supposed author of the Ra-
majana, i. 76.

Varro, M. Terentius, opinions and works
of, iv. 79.

Varus, Alfenus, inclined to Stoical doc-
trines, iv. 81.

Vedanta, or second Mimansa philosophy,
the, i. 109, 124. Character, develop-

ment, and doctrines of, iv. 337, See.
376—402.

Vedantas, the, i. 74.

Vedas, the, period of, i. 65, &c. Not
the work of a single author, i. 67. By
whom said to have been compiled, i.
67. Our knowledge of them very im-
perfect, i. 69. Doctrines contained in,
i. 70, 90. Ancient sages of, the Brah-
manical philosophy attributed to them,
i. 103. Doctrines of, rejected by
Buddha, i. 105. Religion of, ori-
ginally physical, i. 118. Doctrines of,
Indian sects agreeable or opposed to,
iv. 334, &c. Authority of, generally
adduced by the Vedanta philosophy in
support of its dogmas, iv. 378. A know-
ledge of, in what rank held by it, iv.
379.

Velleius, C, an adherent of the Epicurean
school, iv. 82.

Vjasa, i. 77. Supposed author of the Pura-
nas, i. 77. The compiler of the Vedas,
i. 103.

Vickra-Maditja, i. 65. Age of, i. 79, 83,
&c. Several persons of that name, i.
80. Era so called, ibid. First perfect
development of Indian philosophy not
prior to the age of, i. 112.

Vischnu, i. 93. Origin of their doctrines
referred by the Vischnuites to his reve-
lations, i. 103.

Vischnuites, the, to what they refer the
origin of their doctrines, i. 103. Doc-
trines of, iv. 334.

Vopadeva, the Hindoo author, i. 100.

Upangas, the, of the Hindoos, i. 78.

Upanischads, the, i. 71. Exhibit the first
essays of Brahmanical philosophy, i.
117. Enjoin internal meditation, &c.
i. 126. Acknowledged by the Vedanta
philosophy as its principal source, iv.
378,

Xenarchus, a commentator on Aristotle,
iv. 240.

Xenocrates, division of philosophy into
logics, physics, and ethics, first dis-
tinctly established by him and Aristotle,
ii. 219. Occupied more and more with
disquisitions upon the nature of num-
bers, ii. 457. His life and doctrines,
460, &c. Deference paid to his autho-
rity by Pansetius, iii. 622.

Xenophanes, derided the superstitions of
the multitude, i. 136. His doctrine of
Greek origin, i. 162. Founder of the
Eleatic philosophy, i, 183, 522. Stated
by some to be the teacher of Heraclitus,
i. 230, According to some, in his ad-
vanced age a preceptor of Parmenides,

GENERAL INDEX,

709

i. 425. His life and doctrines, i. 425 —
444, 599. System of, enlarged by Par-
menides, i. 448. Anthropomorphic
polytheism attacked by him, i. 530.

Xenophilus, one of the later Pythago-
reans, i. 352.

Xenophon, testimony of, on the character
of Socrates, ii. 22. Socrates' advice
to, as to his Asiatic expedition, iL 38.
On the character, doctrines, &c, of So-
crates, ii, 39, 44, 47, 51, 52, 54, 55,
62, 64, 66, 67, 68. His Memorabilia,
historically the most valuable of all his
works with respect to Socrates, ii. 41.
Why scanty in his information respect-
ing him, 42. Conversations of, with
Socrates, ii. 80. His explanation of
the doctrine of. Socrates, the one adopt-
ed by Cicero, iv, 116.

Xerxes, said to have been entertained by
the father of Democritus, i. 544.

Yoga philosophy, the, character and
velopment of, ii. 338, 357, 358.

de-

Zaleucus, code of, i. 326.

Zend-Avesta, what meant thereby,!. 51,
&c. Doctrine, age, 6lc. of, ibid.

Zeno of Elea, one of the naost distin-
gui.shed members of the Eleatic sect, i.
422. A disciple of Parmenides, i. 442,
446. The doctrine of his master pro-
pagated through him, i. 446. His life
and doctrines, i. 469, 479, 599, And

Empcdocles, exhibit the two opposite
aspects of the Eleatic system, i. 496.
By some accounts made the preceptor
of Leucippus, i. 543. Arguments of,
employed by Gorgias, i. 583, 584.
Arguments of, against the possibility of
motion refuted by Aristotle, iii. 206,
207. His argument against infinite
divisibility borrowed by Epicurus, iii.
431.

Zeno of Cittium, the reputed founder of
the Stoical school, a disciple of Crates,
ii. 123. Transferred the logical inves-
tigations, &c. of the Megarian school to
that of the Stoics, ii. 138. His life,
writings, and doctrines, iii. 450, &c.
477, 479, 487, 516, 525, 538, 574,
577. Cicero's agreement with, on rea-
son alone being the principle of virtue,
iv. 149. Implicit faith in, repudiated
by Seneca, iv. 181.

Zeno of Tarsus, a later Stoic, doctrines
of, iii. 599.

Zeno, the Epicurean, Cicero a hearer of,
at Athens, iv. 142.

Zenodotus, a neo-Platonist, scholar of
Proclus, iv. 662.

Zoroaster, the chief part of the Zend-
Avestii attributed to him, i. 52. His
philosophy erroneously referred to as
the source of the llcraditic doctrines,
1 63. Doctrine of, adopted by PluUirch,
iv. 500.

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