- ^\ 
 
 
 BOOK 180.B179S c 1 
 
 3 T1S3 ODOhami a 
 
SOURCE BOOK IN 
 ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
SOURCE BOOK IN 
 
 ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES M. ^KEWELL 
 
 PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN YALE UNIVERSITY 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON 
 
Copyright, 1907, by 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Printed in the United States of Americr. 
 
 Published September, 1907 
 K 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Every one who has attempted to introduce students 
 to the study of Philosophy by way of its history must 
 have felt the need of having in compact form the most 
 significant documents upon which the interpretations 
 of that history are based, in order that it may be possible 
 from the first to bring the student into direct contact 
 with the sources, so far at least as that may be done 
 through the medium of translations. The primary aim 
 of this book is to supply this need. It is intended to 
 serve either as a companion volume to any History of 
 Philosophy that may be adopted as a text-book, or as a 
 substitute for such a history where the instructor may 
 prefer through his own lectures to give his own inter- 
 pretation of this philosophical movement. It is hoped 
 that the book may also, as a reference work, prove of 
 value to students of philosophy generally, as well as 
 to all who are interested in the development of ancient 
 thought. 
 
 No attempt has been made to make an exhaustive 
 Source Book. I have simply brought together the more 
 significant passages from the earlier philosophers, begin- 
 ning with Thales and reaching as far as Plotinus. The 
 book includes most of the fragments of the earliest 
 philosophers, together with the passages from the second- 
 ary sources which are most important in throwing light 
 upon these fragments. In the case of the other philos- 
 ophers it includes a number of brief extracts which may 
 
Vi PREFACE 
 
 serve as texts to hang discussions on, and also some more 
 extended passages selected with the view of bringing one 
 directly into the spirit and method of the several phi- 
 losophers represented. More space has been given to 
 Plotinus than his relative importance would warrant. 
 This, however, needs no apology. Plotinus is perhaps 
 more frequently misrepresented in historical discussions 
 than any other Greek philosopher. Here especially is 
 it necessary to let the philosopher speak for himself. 
 And, besides, Plotinus's works are comparatively in- 
 accessible to English readers, whereas the extracts from 
 Plato and Aristotle, from Lucretius and the later Stoics 
 can be supplemented at will. 
 
 While most of these sources are already accessible in 
 translation they are^ scattered through so many volumes, 
 and are mixed with so much material that is chiefly of 
 value to the advanced student whose historical interests 
 have become highly specialized, as to be practically 
 unavailable for use in connection with introductory 
 courses. 
 
 My obligations to others are so numerous that it would 
 be impossible to mention them all. In making the 
 translations I have in each case had before me all of the 
 translations already in the field, whether in English, 
 German, French, or Latin, upon which I could lay my 
 hands; and I have borrowed freely from most of them. 
 In especial, however, I should like to acknowledge my 
 indebtedness to Professors Diels, Burnet, and Fairbanks ; 
 and in the selection of passages I have taken many 
 suggestions from the works of Hitter and Preller, 
 Wallace, Jackson, and Adam. 
 
 I wish also to express my gratitude to Prof. G. H. 
 Palmer for many valuable suggestions, and for the con- 
 
PREFACE vii 
 
 tribution of his translation of the Hymn of Clean thes; 
 and to Dr. B. A. G. Fuller for the selection and transla- 
 tion of the passages from Plotinus, and the passages 
 from Plutarch in criticism of the Stoic theodicy. 
 
 My thanks are also due to Mr. T. W. Higginson for 
 permission to quote from his translation of Epictetus, 
 to Dr. W. T. Harris for permission to reprint from The 
 Journal of Speculative Philosophy the translation of the 
 fragments of Parmenides, made by the late Thomas 
 Davidson, and to the Cambridge University Press, the 
 Oxford University Press, Messrs. George Bell & Sons, 
 The Macmillan Company, and Little, Brown & Company, 
 for permission to use translations published by them. 
 Special acknowledgments of borrowed translations are 
 made in foot-notes. The only case where confusion is 
 likely to arise is in the extracts from Plato. I assume 
 responsibility myself for the translation of the Apology; 
 the selections from the Republic are from the translation 
 of Davies and Vaughan, and all the remaining Plato 
 selections are from the latest edition of Jowett's work. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. — The Milesian School 1 
 
 Thales: General standpoint of the early philosophers, and 
 the opinions of Thales, 1, Anaximander: The "bound- 
 
 less" as first principle, 3. Scientific speculations, 5. 
 Anaximenes: His opinions, 7. 
 
 J 
 
 II. — ^The Eleatic School 8 
 
 Xenophanes: The fragments, 8. An illustration of Xenoph- 
 anes's scientific reasoning, 10. Parmenides: The frag- 
 ments of his poem "On Nature," 11. Plato and Aristotle 
 on Eleatic philosophy, 20. Zeno: The puzzles of com- 
 position and division, 22. Space not a real thing. 23. The 
 puzzles of motion, 24. The purpose of Zeno's arguments 
 as reported by Plato, 25. 
 
 III. — Heraclitus 28 
 
 The fragments, 28. 
 
 IV. — ^The Pythagorean Philosophy . . . . . .36 
 
 The number philosophy of the Pythagoreans, 36. The 
 Pythagorean " Golden Words," 40. 
 
 V. — ^Empedocles 43 
 
 The fragments, 43. Secondary sources, 46. 
 
 VI. — Anaxagoras 49 
 
 The fragments, 49. Secondary sources, 53. Some of 
 Aristotle's comments on Anaxagoras, 55. 
 
 VII. — ^The Atomists 57 
 
 Leucippus, 57. Leucippus and Democritus, 58. Democ- 
 ritus: The fragments, 59. The "Golden Sayings" of 
 Democritus, 60. The atomists on the soul according to 
 Aristotle, 65. 
 
 ix 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 VIII. — ^The Sophists 67 
 
 Two sayings of Protagoras, 67. A saying of Gorgias, 67. 
 An account of the calling and profession of the Sophist from 
 the writings of Plato, 68. Aristotle on the Sophists, 69. 
 The Sophists and the Athenian youth, 69. The Prota- 
 gorean doctrine of relativity as Plato interprets it in the 
 Thecetetus, 78. Gorgias as a rhetorician, 85. 
 
 IX. — Socrates 86 
 
 Aristotle on Socrates's achievement, 86. Xenophon's 
 tribute to Socrates, 86. The sort of questions Socrates 
 was concerned with, 90. Socrates on the Good and the 
 Beautiful, 91, Socrates's method, 95. A bit of his biog- 
 raphy, as reported by Plato, 96. An illustration of his 
 method of showing up ignorance, 101. 
 
 X. — Socrates's Defence of Himself as Reported by 
 
 Plato in the APOLOGY 104 
 
 XI. — ^The Lesser Socrates 142 
 
 The Cyrenaics. Aristippus, 142. The Cynics. Antis- 
 thenes and Diogenes, 145. 
 
 XII.— Plato 148 
 
 Plato's relation to his predecessors according to Aristotle, 
 148. From the Phcedrus: Dialectic vs. rhetoric, 149. From 
 the Symposium: On love, 152. From the Philebus: 
 Pleasure and the other goods, 157. From the Timceus: 
 The creation of the world, 160. Why it is necessary to 
 assume the existence of the Ideas, 167. From the Par- 
 menides: Puzzles presented by the theory of ideas, 168. 
 
 XIII.— Plato— Con^inwed 180 
 
 From the Republic: The nature of virtue, 180. The four 
 cardinal virtues, 182. The higher education leading up to 
 the Idea of the Good, 186. The Idea of the Good as the 
 source of truth and of reality, 192. Reality and appearance ; 
 knowledge and opinion, 199. The allegory of the den; 
 shadows and realities, 203. Dialectic the coping stone of 
 the sciences, 213. 
 
CONTENTS XI 
 
 PAGS 
 
 XIV. — ^Aristotle 217 
 
 Origin and nature of philosophy, 217. Aristotle's criticism 
 of the theory of ideas, 220. Aristotle's o^n view regard- 
 ing the universal, 223. The four causes, 225. Aristotle's 
 conception of God: Necessity of assuming a first cause or 
 prime mover, 227. Divine reason as the prime mover, 230. 
 Divine reason and its object, 233. 
 
 XV. — ^Aristotle on Psychology 236 
 
 The nature of the soul, 236. The animate and the in- 
 animate, 240. Nourishment the fundamental function, 
 touch the fundamental sense, 242. Sense-perception, 243. 
 Cognition, 244. Creative reason, 246. Reason and judg- 
 ment, 247. Reason and its object, 248. The springs of 
 action, 249. 
 
 XVI. — ^Aristotle on Ethics 251 
 
 The summum bonum, 251. To find it we ask what is man's 
 function, 253. How virtue is acquired, 257. Virtue and 
 vice ahke voluntary, 259. On friendship, 261. Highest 
 happiness found in the vision of truth, 264. How the end 
 is to be reahzed, 266. 
 
 XVIL— The Stoics 269 
 
 The parts of philosophy and the criterion of truth, 269. 
 Ethics: Following nature, 272. The Hymn of Cleanthes, 
 277. Plutarch's refutation of the Stoic theodicy, 278. 
 
 XVIII.— Epicurus 290 
 
 Theory of knowledge, 290. Physical speculations, 293. 
 The practical philosophy of Epicurus, 296. Some maxims 
 of Epicurus, 302. 
 
 XIX. — Lucretius 305 
 
 The wages of philosophy, 305. The course of the atoms, 
 307. The unconcerned gods, 309. The nature of mind 
 and soul, 309. DispelUng the dread of death, 313. No 
 designer of nature, 316. 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XX. — Epictetus 317 
 
 Things which are in our power, 317. The essence of good, 
 320. As Socrates would have done, 322. In harmony 
 with God and His universe, 324. 
 
 XXI. — Marcus Aurelius 326 
 
 Follow nature, 326. The harmony of the universe, 331. 
 Man's insignificance and his grandeur, 336. 
 
 XXII.— Plotinus 340 
 
 The soul, 340. The intellect, 353. The One, 363. The 
 process of emanation, 371. 
 
 XXIII. — Plotinus — Continued 375 
 
 Matter, 357. Sin and salvation, 384. 
 
I 
 
 THE MILESIAN SCHOOL 
 
 THALES 
 
 [Flourished 585 B.C.] 
 
 GENERAL STANDPOINT OF THE EARLY PHILOSOPHERS AND THE 
 OPINIONS OF THALES 
 
 J — . Most i of the early philosophers were content to seek 
 a material first principle as the cause of all things. For 
 that of which all things consist, from which they arise, 
 into which they pass away, the substance remaining 
 the same through all its changing states — that, I say, 
 is what they mean by the element, or the first principle, 
 of the things that are. And this is why they hold that, 
 strictly speaking, nothing comes into being or perishes, 
 since the primal nature remains ever the same. For 
 instance, when Socrates becomes handsome or cultured 
 we do not just say he comes into being; nor, when he 
 loses these characteristics, do we say that Socrates is 
 no more. Socrates, the subject, remains the same 
 throughout these changes. And it is the same with all 
 things. There must be some natural body ((^uo-t?), 
 one or many, from which all things arise, but which 
 itself remains the same. 
 
 r But of what sort this first principle is, and how many 
 ^uch there are, this is a point upon which they are not 
 agreed. Thales, the originator of this kind of philosophy, 
 
 1 Aristotle, Met. I. 3, 983 b 6 (R. P. 9 a). 
 1 
 
2 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 declares it to be water. (And this is why he said that 
 the earth floats on water.) Possibly he was led to 
 this opinion by observing that the nourishment of all 
 things is moist, and that heat itself is generated and 
 kept alive by moisture. And that from which all things 
 are generated is just what we mean by their first prin- 
 ciple. This may be where he got his idea, and also 
 from observing that the germs of all things are moist, 
 and that moist things have water as the first principla 
 of their nature. 
 
 Some indeed hold that those who lived ages ago, 
 long before the present generation, and who were the 
 first to reason about the gods, held a similar view about 
 nature, since they sang of Oceanus and Tethys as the 
 parents of creation, and since the oath by which their 
 gods swore was water, or, as the poets themselves called 
 it, Styx. Now that which is most held in esteem is 
 the object by which men swear; and that which is 
 most ancient is that which is most esteemed. Whether 
 there be any such ancient and primitive opinion about 
 nature is doubtless an obscure question. However, 
 Thales is said to have expressed the opinion above set 
 forth concerning the first cause. 
 
 * * 
 
 And 2 some hold that the soul f is diffused through the 
 
 universe. Perhaps this is what led Thales to say that 
 all things are full of gods. 
 
 2 Aristotle, Psychology, I. 5, 411 a 7 (R. P. 10 a). 
 
 t One must beware of reading later meanings into the word 'soul.* 
 To 'have soul' (i|/wxV ^x^*") means little more than 'to be alive.' 
 'Vital principle' would perhaps express the meaning better, were 
 it not for the fact that that expression implies a greater degree 
 of abstraction than we can properly attribute to these early 
 thinkers. 
 
THE MILESIAN SCHOOL 3 
 
 Judging 3 from what is reported of him, Thales appears 
 to have viewed the soul as something having the capacity 
 to set up movement, if it is true that he said that the 
 loadstone has a soul because it moves iron. 
 
 ANAXIMANDER 
 [Flourished about 570 B.C.] 
 
 THE "boundless" AS FIRST PRINCIPLE 
 
 Among 4 those who say that the first principle is one 
 and mobile and boundless is to be reckoned Anaximander 
 of Miletus, the son of Praxiades, the successor and 
 follower of Thales. He said that "the boundless'' 
 (rb aireopov) was the first principle and element of the 
 things that are, being the first to make use of this term 
 in describing the first principle. He says it is neither 
 water nor any of the other elements now recognized, 
 but some other and different natural body which is 
 boundless; and from it arise all the heavens and all the 
 worlds which they contain. 
 
 That from which things take their origin, into that 
 again they pass away, as destiny orders; for they are 
 punished and give satisfaction to one another for their 
 injustice in the ordering of time, as he puts it in rather 
 poetical language. 
 
 It is evident that, observing the way in which the 
 ("four elements are transformed into one another, he 
 I thought fit to take for the substratum, not some one 
 
 3 Aristotle, 405 a 17 (R. P. 10 b). 
 
 * Theophr. Fr. 2 ap. Simplic. Phijs., 24 (Dox. 476; R. P. 12). [I 
 use throughout the ^customary abbreviations, — "Dox." for Diels' 
 Doxographi Grceci, and "R. P." for Ritter and Preller, Historia 
 PhilosophicB Grcecce.] 
 
4 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 of them, but rather something else over and above them 
 all. And he did not attribute creation (yeveaL<;) to 
 any change in this element, but rather to the separating 
 of the opposites occasioned by the eternal movement. 
 This is why Aristotle compares his view with that of 
 Anaxagoras. h=** 
 
 And ^ he says that this principle, which encompasses 
 all worlds, is eternal and ageless. — And besides this, 
 there is eternal movement in which there results the 
 creation of the heavens. 
 
 *** 
 
 And ^ there is another point of view from which one 
 does not make the cause any change of matter, nor 
 ascribe creation to any transformation of the substratum, 
 but rather to separation. Anaximander says that the 
 opposites inhering in the substratum, which is a bound- 
 less body, are separated out, — he being the first to 
 name the substratum as first principle. And the '' op- 
 posites" are, hot and cold, moist and dry, etc. 
 
 *** 
 Everything ^ either is a first principle or arises from a 
 
 first principle; but of the boundless there is no first 
 
 principle, for to find a first principle for it would be 
 
 to give it bounds. Further, it (the boundless) is un- 
 
 begotten and indestructible, being a first principle. 
 
 That which is created perishes, and there is a limit to 
 
 all destruction. Therefore there is no first principle of 
 
 the boundless, but it is rather the first principle of other 
 
 things. And it encompasses all things and rules all 
 
 things, in the opinion of those who do not assume, in 
 
 5 Hipp. Ref. I. 6 (Dox. 559; R. P. 13). 
 
 6 Simpl. Phys. 150, 29 D (R. P. 14 a). 
 
 7 Aristotle, Phys. III. 4, 203 b 6 (R. P. 13). 
 
THE MILESIAN SCHOOL 5 
 
 addition to the boundless, some other cause such as 
 ''reason/' or ''love." And this is the divine, for it is 
 deathless and indestructible, as Anaximander holds in 
 agreement with most of the physical philosophers. 
 
 * * 
 But ^ it is not possible that there should be an infinite 
 
 body which is one and simple; either, as some hold, 
 something over and above the elements and from which 
 they arise, or as one of the elements themselves. For 
 there are some who hold that this (i. e., the something 
 other than the elements) is the boundless, and not air 
 or water, in order that other things may not be destroyed 
 by the boundless. For these (elements themselves) are 
 opposed to one another; air is cold, water moist, fire hot. 
 If one of them were boundless, the rest would have 
 perished ere this. So they say that the boundless is / 
 something other than the elements and that from it ' 
 they arise. 
 
 SCIENTIFIC SPECULATIONS 
 
 The ^ earth hangs free, supported by nothing. It 
 keeps its place because it is in the centre (Ht. is equally 
 distant from all things). It is convex and round, like 
 a stone pillar.f There are two surfaces opposite one 
 another, on one of which we are. 
 
 The stars are circles of fire, separated from the fire 
 which surrounds the world and covered all around with 
 air. But there are breathing holes, certain tube-like 
 openings, through which the stars appear. When these 
 holes close there is an eclipse; and the moon appears now 
 
 8 Aristotle, Phys. III. 5, 204 b 22 (R. P. 12 b). 
 
 9 Hipp. Ref. I. 6 (Dox. 559-60; R. P. 14 c). 
 
 t So Diels, Dox. 218, and after him Burnet, p. 72, note. The 
 'convex' is then taken as referring to the surface of the earth. 
 
6 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 to wax and now to wane through the opening and closing 
 of these holes. . . . The sun is highest of all the heavenly 
 bodies and lowest are the circles of the fixed stars. . . . 
 Rain comes from the vapor drawn up from the earth 
 by the sun. * 
 
 From 1° the eternal principle was separated at the 
 creation of the world something generative of hot and 
 cold; and from this a sphere of flame grew around the 
 air which surrounds the earth, as the bark grows around 
 the tree. And when the sphere was broken up, and cut 
 into distinct rings, the sun and the moon and the stars 
 came into being. , * 
 
 Living 11 things sprang from (the moist element!) 
 evaporated by the sun. Man sprang from a different 
 animal, in fact from a fish, which at first he resembled. 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 (Anaximander)i2 says that at first man sprang from 
 a different kind of animal, his reason being that whereas 
 all the other animals are speedily able to find nourish- 
 ment for themselves, man alone requires a long period 
 of suckling; and if he had been at the beginning such as 
 he is now, he would not have survived. 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 The 12 first living things were generated in moisture, 
 and were covered with a hard skin. When they were 
 old enough they came up on the dry banks, and after a 
 while the skin cracked off, and they lived on. 
 
 10 Ps. Plut. Strom. 2 (R. P. 14 b; Dox. 579). 
 
 11 Hipp. Ref. I. 6 (R. P. 16; Dox. 560). 
 
 " Ps. Plut. Strom. 2 (R. P. 16; Dox. 579) . 
 i3Aet. Plac. V, 19 (R. P. 16; Dox. 430). 
 
 t Cf. Diels, Dox., 560, note. 
 
THE MILESIAN SCHOOL 7 
 
 ANAXIMENES 
 [Flourished about 550 B.C.] 
 
 THE OPINIONS OF ANAXIMENES 
 
 Anaximenes ^^ said air was the first principle. 
 
 * * 
 
 Anaximenes of Miletus/^ son of Eurystratos, an asso- 
 ciate of Anaximander, agreed with him in holding that 
 the substance of nature was one and boundless; but hei 
 did not agree with him in holding that it was indetermi- 
 nate, for he said it was air. But it differs in rarity and 
 density with different things. When it is very at- 
 tenuated fire arises; when it is condensed wind, then 
 cloud, then, when more condensed, water, earth, stones; 
 and other things come from these. He too holds the 
 movement eternal by which the changes arise. 
 
 * * 
 
 Just 1^ as our soul which is air holds us together, so it 
 
 is breath and air that encompasses the whole world. 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 All 1^ things are generated by a sort of rarefaction 
 
 and condensation of air. * 
 
 * * 
 
 The 18 earth is flat Hke a table top. 
 
 The 1^ earth is flat and floats on the air. 
 
 * 
 
 The 20 stars are fixed like nails in the crystalline vault. 
 
 " Arist. Met. I 3, 984 a 5. 
 
 15 Theophr. Fr. 2, ap. Simplic. Phys., 24 (R. P. 19 b; Dox. 476). 
 
 16 Aet. Plac. L 3, 4 (Dox. 278; R. P. 18). 
 
 17 Ps. Plut. Strom. Fr. 3 (R. P. 19 a; Dox. 579). 
 
 18 Aet. Plac. III. 10, 3 (Dox. 377). 
 
 19 Hipp. Ref. I, 7 (R. P. 21; Dox. 560). 
 
 20 Aet. 14, 3 (Dox. 344). 
 
II 
 
 THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 
 XENOPHANES 
 
 [Flourished about 530 B.C.] 
 
 THE FRAGMENTS 
 
 j l.t There is one god, supreme among gods and men; 
 
 resembling mortals neither in form nor in mind. 
 
 I 2. The whole of him sees, the whole of him thinks, the 
 
 whole of him hears. 
 f3. Without toil he rules all things by the power of 
 
 his mind. 
 
 ^ 4. And he stays always in the same place, nor moves 
 
 at all, for it is not seemly that he wander about now 
 
 here, now there. 
 ^; 5. But mortals fancy gods are born, and wear clothes, 
 
 and have voice and form like themselves. 
 ^ 6. Yet if oxen and lions had hands, and could paint 
 ' with their hands, and fashion images, as men do, they 
 
 would make the pictures and images of their gods in 
 
 their own likeness; horses would make them like horses, 
 
 oxen like oxen. 
 
 (D. 16) ^Ethiopians tt make their gods black and 
 
 snub-nosed; Thracians give theirs blue eyes and red hair. 
 \ 34. Xenophanes ^ said it was just as impious to say 
 
 » Aristotle, Rhet. II. 23. 1399 B 6. 
 
 t The numbers given the fragments are those of Karsten. 
 tt R. P. 83. Fr. 16 in Diels' arrangement in his Die Fragmente 
 der Vorsokratiker, a work hereafter referred to as "Diels." 
 
 8 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 9 
 
 that the gods are bom as to say that they die. For it 
 follows from either view that at some time or other they 
 do not exist. 
 
 O^ 7. Homer and Heeiod have ascribed to the gods all 
 deeds that are a shame and a disgrace among men: 
 thieving, adultery, fraud. 
 
 J 16. The gods did not reveal all things to men at the 
 start; but, as time goes on, by searching, they discover 
 more and more. 
 
 4 14. There never was, nor ever will be, any man who 
 knows with certainty the thmgs about the gods and 
 about all things which I tell of. For even if he does 
 happen to get most things right, still he himself does not 
 know it. But mere opinions all may have. 
 i-;»'15. Let these opinions of mine pass for semblances of 
 truths. *** 
 
 37. (Upon 2 Empedocles remarking to him (Xeno- 
 phanes) that it was impossible to find a wise man he 
 replied: Very likely; it takes a wise man to know a 
 wise man when he finds one.) 
 
 f 8. From earth to earth, — the beginning and end of all 
 things. 
 
 { 9. We all sprang from earth and water. 
 
 • 10. All things that come into being and grow are 
 earth and water. 
 
 • 12. The upper limit of the earth we see at our feet, 
 where it strikes against the air; but below it reaches 
 down without limit. 
 
 • 13. The (rainbow) which men call Iris is also by nature 
 a cloud, of aspect purple and red and green. 
 
 ^ 19. Let one but win a race through fleetness of foot, 
 or be victorious in the pentathlon, there where lies the 
 2Diog. Laert. IX. 20. 
 
10 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 sacred field of Zeus, in Olympia, hard by the river of 
 Pisas; or let him be victorious in wrestling, or in a bloody- 
 boxing match, or in the terrible contest called the 
 pancration, — in the eyes of the citizens he will be re- 
 splendent with glory; he will gain a conspicuous seat of 
 honor in the public assemblies, there will be feasting 
 for him at the public expense, and a gift from his city 
 for a token. Yes, if he should win a chariot race, all 
 these things would fall to his lot, though not so deserving 
 as I am. For our wisdom is better than the strength 
 of men or of horses. This is in truth a most heedless 
 custom ; nor is it right thus to prefer strength to precious 
 wisdom. 
 
 What if there be among the people a good boxer, or 
 one who excels in the pentathlon, or in wrestling, or in 
 fleetness of foot, — which is more highly honored than 
 strength in the contests at the games! The city is not 
 on that account one whit better governed. Small 
 profit does the city get out of it, when one is victorious 
 in contests by the banks of the Pisas. That does not 
 enrich the innermost parts of the state. 
 
 20. Having learned from the Lydians useless luxuries, 
 what time they were free from hateful servitude, they 
 used to come swaggering into the place of assembly 
 by the thousand, wearing loose mantles all purple-dyed, 
 glorying in their flowing comely hair, and reeking with 
 the odor of curiously compounded perfumes. 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATION OF XENOPHANES' SCIENTIFIC REASONING 
 
 Xenophanes ^ thought that a mixture of land and 
 sea came into being, and that in course of time this was 
 resolved into its parts under the influence of the moist 
 
 'Hipp., Ref. I. 14 (R. P. 86 a; Dox. 565). 
 
THE ELEATIC SC'HOOL 11 
 
 element. And he adduces such proofs as these: Fossils 
 are found in the midst of the land and on mountains; 
 and in the quarries of Syracuse the imprints of a fish and 
 of seals have been found; and at Paros the imprint of a 
 sardine deep in stone; and at Malta traces of all sorts 
 of things of the sea. And he says that these were made 
 when, long ago, all things were mud, and the imprint 
 was dried in the mud. And when the earth, having 
 sunk in the sea, becomes mud once more, all men will 
 disappear. Then a new creation will begin. And this 
 change happens to all worlds. 
 
 PARMENIDES 
 [Flourished about 495 B.C.] 
 
 THE FRAGMENTS OF PARMENIDES' POEM " ON NATURE " f 
 
 /. Introduction 
 
 Soon as the coursers that bear me and drew me as far as 
 
 extendeth 
 Impulse, guided me and threw me aloft in the glorious 
 
 pathway. 
 Up to the Goddess that guideth through all things man 
 
 that is conscious. 
 There was I carried along, for there did the coursers 
 
 sagacious. 
 Drawing the chariot, bear me, and virgins preceded to 
 
 guide them — 
 Daughters of Helios leaving behind them the mansions of 
 
 darkness — 
 
 t The translation of Parmenides' poem On Nature that is here 
 given was made by Thomas Davidson, and published in Vol. IV of 
 the Journal of Speculative Philosophy. 
 
12 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Into the light, with their strong hands forcing asunder 
 
 the night-shrouds, 
 While in its socket the axle emitted the sound of a syrinx, 
 Glowing, for still it was urged by a couple of wheels well- 
 rounded, 
 One upon this side, one upon that, when it hastened its 
 
 motion. 
 There were the gates of the paths of the Night and the 
 
 paths of the Day-time. 
 Under the gates is a threshold of stone and above is a 
 
 lintel. 
 These too are closed in the ether with great doors guarded 
 
 by Justice — 
 Justice the mighty avenger, that keepeth the keys of 
 
 requital. 
 Her did the virgins address, and with soft words deftly 
 
 persuaded, 
 Swiftly for them to withdraw from the gates the bolt 
 
 and its fastener. 
 Opening wide, they uncovered the yawning expanse of 
 
 the portal. 
 Backward rolling successive the hinges of brass in their 
 
 sockets, — 
 Hinges constructed with nails and with clasps; then on- 
 ward the virgins 
 Straightway guided their steeds and their chariot over 
 
 the highway. 
 Then did the goddess receive me with gladness, and 
 
 taking my right hand 
 Into her own, thus uttered a word and kindly bespake 
 
 me: 
 Youth that art mated with charioteers and companions 
 
 immortal. 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 13 
 
 Coming to us on the coursers that bear thee, to visit our 
 
 mansion, 
 Hail! for it is not an evil Award that hath guided thee 
 
 hither. 
 Into this path — for, I ween, it is far from the pathway of 
 
 mortals — 
 Nay, it is Justice and Right. Thou needs must have 
 
 knowledge of all things, 
 First of the Truth's unwavering heart that is fraught 
 
 with conviction. 
 Then of the notions of mortals, where no true conviction 
 
 abide th; 
 But thou shalt surely be taught this too, that every 
 
 opinion 
 Needs must pass through the ALL, and vanquish the 
 
 test with approval. 
 
 //. On Truth 
 
 Listen, and I will instruct thee — and thou, when thou 
 
 hearest, shalt ponder — 
 What are the sole two paths of research that are open to 
 
 thinking. 
 One path is: That Being doth be, and Non-Being is not: 
 This is the way of Conviction, for Truth follows hard in 
 
 her footsteps. 
 Th' other path is : That Being is not, and Non-Being must 
 
 be; 
 This one, I tell thee in truth, is an all-incredible pathway. 
 For thou never canst know what is not (for none can 
 
 conceive it), 
 Nor canst thou give it expression, for one thing are 
 
 Thinking and Being. 
 
14 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 . . . And to me 'tis indifferent 
 Whence I begin, for thither again thou shalt find me 
 returning. 
 
 Speaking and thinking must needs be existent, for IS 
 
 is of being. 
 Nothing must needs not be; these things I enjoin thee to 
 
 ponder. 
 Foremost of all withdraw thy mind from this path of 
 
 inquiry. 
 Then likewise from that other, wherein men, empty of 
 
 knowledge. 
 Wander forever uncertain, while Doubt and Perplexity 
 
 guide them — 
 Guide in their bosoms the wandering mind; and onward 
 
 they hurry. 
 Deaf and dumb and blind and stupid, imreasoning cattle — 
 Herds that are wont to think Bemg and Non-Being one 
 
 and the self-same. 
 Yet not one and the same; and that all things move in a 
 
 circle. 
 
 Never I ween shalt thou learn that Being can be of what 
 is not; 
 
 Wherefore do thou withdraw thy mmd from this path of 
 inquiry. 
 
 Neither let habit compel thee, while treading this path- 
 way of knowledge, 
 
 Still to employ a visionless eye or an ear full of ringing, 
 
 Yea, or a clamorous tongue; but prove this vexed dem- 
 onstration 
 
 Uttered by me, by reason. And now there remains for 
 discussion 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 15 
 
 One path only : That Being doth be — and on it there are 
 tokens 
 
 Many and many to show that what is is birthless and 
 deathless, 
 
 Whole and only-begotten, and moveless and ever- 
 enduring : 
 
 Never it was or shall be; but the ALL simultaneously 
 now is, 
 
 One continuous one; for of it what birth shalt thou 
 search for? 
 
 How and whence it hath sprung? I shall not permit 
 thee to tell me, 
 
 Neither to think: ' Of what is not,' for none can say or 
 imagine 
 
 How Not-Is becomes Is; or else what need should have 
 stirred it. 
 
 After or yet before its beginning, to issue from nothing? 
 
 Thus either wholly Being must be or wholly must not be. 
 
 Never from that which is will the force of Intelligence 
 suffer 
 
 Aught to become beyond itself. Thence neither pro- 
 duction 
 
 Neither destruction doth Justice permit, ne'er slacken- 
 ing her fetters; 
 
 But she forbids. And herein is contained the decision 
 of these things; 
 
 Either there is or is not; but Judgment declares, as it 
 needs must. 
 
 One of these paths to be uncomprehended and utterly 
 nameless. 
 
 No true pathway at all, but the other to be and be real. 
 
 How can that which is now be hereafter, or how can it 
 have been? 
 
16 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 For if it hath been before, or shall be hereafter, it is 
 
 not: 
 Thus generation is quenched and decay surpasseth 
 
 believing. 
 Nor is there aught of distinct; for the All is self -similar 
 
 alway. 
 Nor is there anywhere more to debar it from being un- 
 broken ; 
 Nor is there an)rwhere less, for the All is sated with 
 
 Being; 
 Wherefore the All is imbroken, and Being approacheth 
 
 to Being. 
 Moveless, moreover, and bounded by great chains' 
 
 limits it lieth. 
 Void of beginning, without any ceasing, since birth and 
 
 destruction 
 Both have wandered afar, driven forth by the truth of 
 
 conviction. 
 Same in the same and abiding, and self through itself it 
 
 reposes. 
 Steadfast thus it endureth, for mighty Necessity holds 
 
 it- 
 Holds it within the chains of her bounds and round doth 
 
 secure it. 
 Wherefore that that which IS should be infinite is not 
 
 permitted ; 
 For it is lacking in naught, or else it were lacking in all 
 
 things. 
 
 Steadfastly yet in thy spirit regard things absent as 
 
 present; 
 Surely thou shalt not separate Being from clingmg to 
 
 Bemg, 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 17 
 
 Nor shalt thou find it scattered at all through the All 
 
 of the Cosmos, 
 Nor yet gathered together. 
 
 One and the same are thought and that whereby there is 
 
 thinking; 
 Never apart from existence, wherein it receiveth ex- 
 pression, 
 Shalt thou discover the action of thinking; for naught 
 
 is or shall be 
 Other besides or beyond the Existent; for Fate hath 
 
 determined 
 That to be lonely and moveless, which all things are but 
 
 a name for — 
 Things that men have set up for themselves, believing 
 
 as real 
 Birth and decay, becoming and ceasing, to be and to 
 
 not-be. 
 Movement from place to place, and change from color 
 
 to color. 
 But since the uttermost limit of Being is ended and 
 
 perfect. 
 Then it is like to the bulk of a sphere well-rounded on all 
 
 sides. 
 Everywhere distant alike from the centre; for never there 
 
 can be 
 Anything greater or anything less, on this side or that 
 
 side; 
 Yea, there is neither a non-existent to bar it from coming 
 Into equality, neither can Being be different from Being, 
 More of it here, less there, for the All is inviolate ever. 
 Therefore, I ween, it lies equally stretched in its limits 
 
 on all sides. 
 
18 SOUROii. BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 And with this I will finish the faithful discourse and tlie 
 
 thinking 
 Touching the truth ; and now thou shalt learn the notions 
 
 of mortals. 
 Learn and list to the treach'rous array of the words I 
 
 shall utter. ' 
 
 III. On Opinion 
 
 Men have set up for themselves twin shapes to be named 
 
 by Opinion 
 (One they cannot set up, and herein do they wander in 
 
 error), 
 And they have made them distinct in their nature, and 
 
 marked them with tokens, 
 Opposite each unto each — the one, flame's fire of the ether, 
 Gentle, exceedingly thin, and everywhere one and the 
 
 self-same. 
 But not the same with the other; the other, self-similar 
 
 likewise. 
 Standing opposed, by itself: brute night, dense nature 
 
 and heavy. 
 All the apparent system of these will I open before thee, 
 So that not any opinion of mortals shall ever elude thee. 
 
 All things now being marked with the names of fight and 
 
 of darkness. 
 Yea, set apart by the various powers of the one or the 
 
 other. 
 Surely the AH is at once full of light and invisible darkness, 
 Both being equal, and naught being common to one 
 
 with the other. 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 19 
 
 For out of the formless fire are woven the narrower circlets, 
 Those over these out of night; but a portion of flame 
 
 shooteth through them. 
 And in the centre of all is the Goddess that govemeth 
 
 all things: 
 She unto all is the author of loathsome birth and coition, 
 Causing the female to mix with the male, and by mutual 
 
 impulse 
 Likewise the male with the female. 
 
 Foremost of gods, she gave birth unto Love; yea, fore- 
 most of all gods. 
 
 Then thou shalt know the ethereal nature and each of 
 its tokens — 
 
 Each of the signs in the ether, and all the invisible 
 workings 
 
 Wrought by the blemishless sun's pure lamp, and 
 whence they have risen. 
 
 Then thou shalt hear of the orb-eyed moon's circumambi- 
 ent workmgs, 
 
 And of her nature, and likewise discern the heaven that 
 surrounds them, 
 
 T\Tience it arose, and how by her sway Necessity boimd it 
 
 Firm, to encircle the bounds of the stars. 
 
 . . . How the earth, and the sun, and the moon, and 
 
 the ether 
 Common to all, and the milk of the sky, and the peak of 
 
 Ol3nTipus, 
 Yea, and the fervent might of the stars, were impelled 
 
 into being. 
 
20 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Circling the earth, with its wanderings, a borrowed, a 
 night-gleaming splendor. 
 
 Wistfully watching forever, with gaze turned toward 
 the sunlight. 
 
 Even as in each one of men is a union of limbs many- 
 jointed. 
 
 So there is also in each one a mind; for one and the same 
 are 
 
 That which is wise and the nature generic of members 
 in mortals. 
 
 Yea, imto each and to all; for that which prevaileth is 
 thinking. 
 
 Here on the right hand the youths, and there on the 
 left hand the maidens. 
 
 Thus by the strength of opinion were these created and 
 
 now are. 
 Yea, and will perish hereafter, as soon as they grow imto 
 
 ripeness; 
 Men have imposed upon each one of these a name as a 
 
 token. 
 
 PLATO AND ARISTOTLE ON ELEATIC PHILOSOPHY 
 
 And ^ our Eleatic tribe of philosophers, beginning 
 with Xenophanes — yes and earlier, embodied this truth 
 in a tale, that ''all things," so-called, are really one. 
 
 * * 
 
 Some ^ have put forth the opinion that the All is a 
 single natural body (/xta? ova-rj^; (f>v(r€a)^) . But they have 
 
 » Plato, Soph. 242 D. » Aristotle, Met. T. 5, 986 b 11. 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 21 
 
 not all expressed this opinion in the same way: they 
 differ in excellence of statement, and also as to what 
 that natural body is. The account of them lies quite 
 outside our present inquiry into causes ; for they do not, 
 like some of the physical philosophers, first assume 
 that that which is (to op) is a single body, and then 
 produce things from this single body as from a material 
 cause. They speak in a different fashion. The former 
 add motion, in explaining the origin of the universe; 
 whereas these say that it (the first principle) is immov- 
 able. Nevertheless, so much at least is germane to our 
 present inquiry: Parmenides seems to have grasped the 
 rjj^ity as formal cause (Kara rov \6yov), Melissus as 
 I material cause [Kara t7)v vXtjv). Accordingly the former 
 [\ holds it to be bounded, the latter to be boundless. 
 
 Xenophanes, the first of these men to assert this unity, 
 Parmenides being generally spoken of as his disciple, 
 made nothing very clear, and does not seem to have 
 reached either of the above views of nature ; but, gazing 
 up into the broad heavens, he simply declared : The One 
 is god. 
 
 And so, as we said, these men we may pass over in 
 our present inquiry, two of them without a further 
 word, as being rather too crude, Xenophanes and Melis- 
 sus; but Parmenides seems to speak at times with keener 
 vision. 
 
 / For, holding as he does that over and above being 
 / there is no such thing as non-bemg, of necessity he holds 
 \ that being is One, and that there is nothing else existent. 
 |(This subject we have discussed more clearly in our 
 work on nature.) Still, compelled to follow where the 
 plain facts led, he supposes that whereas according to 
 reason things are one, for sense-perception they are more 
 
22 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 than one; and he falls back on the assumption that there 
 are two causes and two principles, heat and cold, to wit, 
 fire and earth; and of these the one, the hot, he classes 
 with being, the other (the cold) with non-being. 
 
 ZENO 
 
 [Flourished about 465 B.C.] 
 
 THE PUZZLES OF COMPOSITION AND DIVISION 
 
 If ^ that which is, had no magnitude it could not 
 even be. Everything that truly is must needs have 
 magnitude and thickness, and one part of it must be 
 separated from another by a certain interval. And the 
 same may be said of the next smaller part; it too will 
 have magnitude, and a next smaller part. As well say 
 this once for all as keep repeating it forever. For there 
 will be no such part that could serve as a limit. And 
 there will never be one part save in reference to another 
 part. Thus, if the many have being, they must be both 
 large and small — so small as to have no size at all, and 
 so large as to be infinite. 
 
 * * 
 
 That '' which has neither magnitude, thickness, nor 
 bulk could not he at all. 'Tor," says Zeno, 'Vere it 
 added to anythmg else that is it would not make it one 
 whit larger, for it is impossible to increase the magnitude 
 of anything by adding that which has no magnitude. 
 And this itself would be enough to show that what was 
 added was nothing. ... f If when it is taken away from 
 
 « Simpl. 140, 34. (R. P. 105 C. Fr. 2 in Diels' arrangement.) 
 7 Simpl. 139, 9. (R. P. 105 a. Fr. 1 Dials.) 
 
 t Assuming with Zeller and Burnet that there is a lacuna here. 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 23 
 
 another thing that other will be no less, and when it is 
 added to another thing that other will be no larger, it 
 is clear that what was added and what was taken away 
 was nothing at all." * 
 
 If 8 the absolute unit is indivisible it would be, ac- 
 cording to Zeno's axiom, nothing at all. For that which 
 neither makes anything larger by its addition, nor makes 
 anything smaller by its subtraction, is not one of the 
 things that are, since it is clear that what is must be a 
 magnitude, and, if a magnitude, corporeal, for the 
 corporeal has being in all dimensions. Other things, 
 such as the surface and the line, when added in one way 
 make things larger, when added in another way do not; 
 but the point and the unit do not make things larger 
 however added. * 
 
 If 9 things are a many, there must of necessity be 
 just so many as there actually are, neither more nor less. 
 If, however, there are just so many as there actually are, 
 then would they be finite in number. (On the other 
 hand) If things are a many, then the things that are are 
 infinite in number; for, between the things that are are 
 always other things, and between them again still other 
 things. And thus the things that are are infinite in 
 number. 
 
 SPACE NOT A REAL THING 
 
 If 1^ space is, it will be in something; for everything 
 that is is in something; and to be in something is to be 
 in space. Space then will be in space, and so on ad 
 infinitum. Therefore space does not exist. 
 
 8 Arist. Met. II. 4, 1001 b 7. " Simpl. 140, 27 (R. P. 105 b). 
 loSimpl. 130-. 562, 3 D (R. P. 106). 
 
24 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 THE PUZZLES OF MOTION 
 
 (1.) You t cannot traverse an infinite number of 
 points in a finite time. You must traverse the half of 
 any given distance before you traverse the whole, and 
 the half of that again before you can traverse it. This 
 goes on ad infinitum, so that {if space is made up of 
 points) there are an infinite number in any given space, 
 and it cannot be traversed in a finite time. 
 
 (2.) The second argument is the famous puzzle of 
 Achilles and the tortoise. Achilles must first reach the 
 place from which the tortoise started. By that time the 
 tortoise will have got on a little way. Achilles must then 
 traverse that, and still the tortoise will be ahead. He is 
 always coming nearer, but he never makes up to it. 
 
 (3.) The third argument against the possibility of 
 motion through a space made up of points is that, on this 
 hypothesis, an arrow in any given moment of its flight 
 must be at rest in some particular point. ^^ 
 
 "Burnet adds: "Aristotle observes quite rightly that this argu- 
 ment depends upon the assumption that time is made up of ' nows/ 
 that is, of indivisible instants. This no doubt, was the Pythagorean 
 view." 
 
 With the third argument as given above, compare the following 
 saying of Zeno reported by Diogenes Laertius, IX, 72 : " That which 
 moves can neither move in the place where it is, nor yet in the 
 place where it is not." 
 
 t Zeno's arguments have been preserved by Aristotle, Phys. 
 VI. 9, 230 b. They are, however, given in a much condensed 
 form, being referred to as matters of common information, and 
 are introduced in order to give Aristotle an opportunity to criticise 
 them. In place of giving this passage I have, therefore, repro- 
 duced the arguments in the expanded form given them by Burnet, 
 which is a free paraphrase of Aristotle's statements, with a few 
 interpolations introduced for the benefit of the modern reader, 
 far from the heat of the controversy, which are amply justified 
 by Aristotle's discussions in the Physics. If any doubt should 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 25 
 
 (4.) Suppose three parallel rows of points in juxta- 
 position: 
 
 A 
 B 
 C 
 
 Fig. 1 Fig. 2 
 
 A 
 
 B . . . . 
 
 C . . 
 
 One of these (B) is immovable, while A and C move in 
 opposite directions with equal velocity so as to come 
 into the position represented in Fig. 2. The movement 
 of C relatively to A will be double its movement relatively 
 to B, or, in other words, any given point in C has passed 
 twice as many points in A as it has in B. It cannot, 
 therefore, be the case that an instant of time corresponds 
 to the passage from one point to another. 
 
 THE PURPOSE OF ZENO's ARGUMENTS AS REPORTED BY PLATO 
 
 [In the Parmenides Zeno is represented as reading his 
 work to Socrates and a few others. Before the conclu- 
 sion of the reading Parmenides enters. After Zeno has 
 finished reading a discussion ensues, part of which I 
 quote. ^2 Socrates is speaking:] 
 
 'Tn all that you say, Zeno, have you any other purpose 
 except to disprove the being of the many ? and is not each 
 division of your treatise intended to furnish a separate 
 proof of this, there being in all as many proofs of the not- 
 being of the many as you have composed arguments? 
 Is that your meaning, or have I misunderstood you?" 
 
 be raised on this score it could only be with regard to the fourth 
 argument, but it seems to me that Burnet and Tannery have 
 made good their case here. See Burnet, Early Greek Philosophy, 
 pp. 331 ff. ; Tannery, Science Hellene, p. 257. 
 
 " Parmenides, 127 D. Jowett's translation. 
 
26 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "No/' said Zeno; ''you have correctly understood my 
 general purpose." 
 
 "1 see, Parmenides," said Socrates, ''that Zeno would 
 like to be not only one with you in friendship but your 
 second seK in his writings too; he puts what you say in 
 another way, and would fain make beheve that he is 
 telling us something which is new. For you, in your 
 poems, say. The All is one, and of this you adduce excel- 
 lent proofs; and he on the other hand says. There is no 
 many; and on behalf of this he offers overwhelming 
 evidence. You affirm unity, he denies plurality. And 
 so you deceive the world into believing that you are 
 saying different things when really you are saying 
 much the same. This is a strain of art beyond the reach 
 of most of us." 
 
 "Yes, Socrates," said Zeno. "But although you are as 
 keen as a Spartan hound in pursuing the track, you do 
 not fully apprehend the true motive of the composition, 
 which is not really such an artificial work as you imagine ; 
 for what you speak of was an accident; there was no 
 pretence of a great purpose; nor any serious intention of 
 deceiving the world. The truth is, that these arguments 
 of mine were meant to protect the arguments of Par- 
 menides against those who make fun of him and seek to 
 show the many ridiculous and contradictory results 
 which they suppose to follow from the affirmation of the 
 one. My answer is addressed to the partisans of the 
 many, whose attack I return with interest by retorting 
 upon them that their hypothesis of the being of the 
 many, if carried out, appears to be still more ridiculous 
 than the hypothesis of the being of the one. Zeal for 
 my master led me to write the book in the days of my 
 youth, but some one stole the copy; and therefore I had 
 
THE ELEATIC SCHOOL 27 
 
 no choice whether it should be published or not; the 
 motive, however, of writing, was not the ambition of an 
 elder man, but the pugnacity of a young one. This you 
 do not seem to see, Socrates; though in other respects, 
 as I was saying, your notion is a very just one." 
 
HERACLITUS 
 
 [Flourished about 505 B.C.] 
 
 THE FRAGMENTS 
 
 l.f This Word (Xo7o<?)tt is everlasting, but men are 
 unable to comprehend it before they have heard it or even 
 after they have heard it for the first time. Although 
 everything happens in accordance with this Word, they 
 behave like inexperienced men whenever they make 
 trial of words and deeds such as I declare as I analyze 
 each thing according to its nature and show what it is. 
 But other men have no idea what they are doing 
 when awake, just as they forget what they do when they 
 are asleep. 
 
 2. One ought to follow the lead of that which is 
 common to all men. But although the Word (X0709) 
 is common to all, yet most men live as if each had a 
 private wisdom of his own. 
 
 t The numbering of the fragments is that of Diels, and I follow 
 his text except where otherwise noted. 
 
 tt Burnet follows Zeller and translates X^tos as "discourse," ren- 
 dering the first clause : "Though this discourse is true evermore." 
 \6yos, it is held, did not mean "reason" in the time of Heraclitus. 
 See Burnet, p. 133, n. 13; Zeller, I. p. 572, n. 2. Cf. Teichmuller, 
 Neue Studien, I. pp. 170 ff. Burnet's position is not free from ob- 
 jections, and, in order not to enter into the controversy, I have 
 thought it best to follow Diels in rendering x6yos "Word," and, 
 where I have departed from that rendering, to give the Greek term 
 also. 
 
 28 ^ 
 
HERACLITUS 29 
 
 17. Most men have no comprehension even of such 
 things as they meet with, nor do they understand what 
 they experience though they themselves think they do. 
 
 18. If you do not expect the imexpected you will 
 never find it, for it is hard to find and inaccessible. 
 
 4. If happiness consisted in the pleasures of the body, 
 we should call cattle happy when they find grass to eat. 
 
 5. Men seek in vain to purify themselves from blood- 
 guiltiness by defiling themselves with blood; as if, when 
 one has stepped into the mud, he should try to wash 
 himself with mud. And I should deem him mad who 
 should pay heed to any man who does such things. 
 And, forsooth, they offer prayers to these statues here! 
 It is as if one should try to converse with houses. They 
 know nothing of the real nature of gods and heroes. 
 
 15. Were it not in honor of Dionysius that they made 
 a procession and sang the Phallus-song, it were a most 
 shameless thing to do. Is Hades then the same thing 
 as Dionysius that they should go mad in his honor with 
 their bacchanalian revels? 
 
 22. They who seek after gold dig up a lot of earth, 
 and find a little. 
 
 23. Were there no injustice men would never have 
 known the name of justice. 
 
 24. Gods and men alike honor those who fall in battle. 
 
 25. Greater deaths receive greater rewards. 
 
 (77 Bywater.) Man is kindled and put out like a 
 Hght in the night time. 
 
 27. There await men after death things they do not 
 expect nor dream of. 
 
 28. Even he who is most highly esteemed knows and 
 cherishes nothing but opinions. And yet justice shall 
 surely overcome forgers of lies and false witnesses. 
 
30 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 29. There is one thing that the best men prize above 
 all — eternal glory above all perishable things. Most 
 men, however, stuff themselves with food hke cattle. 
 
 30. This universe, the same for all, no one, either god 
 or man, has made; but it always was, and is, and ever 
 shall be an ever-living fire, fixed measures kindUng and 
 fixed measures dying out. 
 
 31. The transformations of fire are, first of all, sea; and 
 one-haK of the sea is earth and half the stormy wind. . . 
 The sea is dispersed and keeps its measure according to 
 the same Word that prevailed before it became earth. 
 
 32. Wisdom is one and one only. It is both willing 
 and unwilling to be called by the name of Zeus. 
 
 33. Law also means to obey the counsel of one. 
 
 34. Fools even when they hear the truth are like deaf 
 men. Of them the proverb holds true, 'being present 
 they are absent.' 
 
 35. Right many things must men know who are lovers 
 of wisdom. 
 
 36. For souls it is death to become water, for water 
 it is death to become earth. From the earth water 
 springs, and from water soul. 
 
 37. Swine like to wash in the mire; barnyard fowls in 
 dust and ashes. 
 
 40. Much learning does not teach wisdom, else would 
 it have taught Hesiod and Pythagoras, Xenophanes, 
 too, and Hecataeus. 
 
 41. Wisdom is one thing. It is to know the thought 
 by which all things through all are guided. 
 
 42. Homer ought to be thrown out of the lists and 
 whipped, and Archilochus too. 
 
 43. It is more necessary to extinguish wantonness than 
 a conflagration. 
 
HERACLITUS 31 
 
 44. The people ought to fight in defence of the law as 
 they do of their city wall. 
 
 45. You could not discover the boundaries of the soul 
 though you tried every path, so deep does its reason 
 (\o7o?) reach down. 
 
 47. Let us not make random conjectures about the 
 weightiest matters. 
 
 48. The bow is called life,t but its work is death. 
 
 49. One to me is as good as ten thousand if he be but 
 the best. 
 
 50. It is wise to hearken not to me, but to the Word, 
 and to confess that all things are one. 
 
 8. Opposition brings men together, and out of discord 
 comes the fairest harmony, and all things have their 
 birth in strife. 
 
 51. Men do not understand how that which is torn in 
 different directions comes into accord with itself, — 
 harmony in contrariety, as in the case of the bow and the 
 lyre. 
 
 52. Time is like a child playing at draughts; the 
 kingdom is a child's. 
 
 53. War is the father of all and the king of all, and 
 some he has made gods and ^me men, some bond and 
 some free. 
 
 54. The hidden harmony is better than that which is 
 obvious. 
 
 57. Hesiod is most men's teacher; they are con- 
 vinced that he knew nearly everything, — a man who 
 didn't even know night and day! For they are one. 
 
 59. The straight and crooked path of the fuller's 
 comb is one and the same. 
 
 60. The way up and the way down is one and the same. 
 
 t A play on the words filos, life, and fii6s, bow. 
 
32 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 61. The sea is the purest and the impurest water; 
 fishes drink it and it keeps them aUve, men find it unfit 
 to drink and even deadly. 
 
 62. The immortal are mortal, the mortal immortal, 
 each living in the other's death and dying in the other's 
 life. 
 
 67. God is day and night, winter and summer, war 
 and peace, satiety and hunger. But he assumes various 
 forms, just as fire when it is mingled with different kinds 
 of incense is named according to the savor of each. 
 
 72. From reason {\6yo<;)^ the guide of all things, with 
 which they are most continually associated they are 
 become estranged ; and things they meet with every day 
 appear to them unfamiliar. 
 
 73. We ought not to act and speak like men asleep. 
 76. Fire lives the death of air, and air the death of fire; 
 
 water lives the death of earth, and earth the death of 
 water. 
 
 (72 Bywater.) Souls delight to get wet. 
 
 78. The customs of men possess no wisdom, those of 
 the gods do. 
 
 79. Man is called a child by god, as a boy is by 
 man. 
 
 80. We ought to know that war is the common lot, 
 and that justice is strife, and that all things arise through 
 strife and necessity. 
 
 82. The most beautiful ape is ugly as compared with 
 the human race. 
 
 83. The wisest man compared with god is like an ape 
 in wisdom, in beauty, and in everything else. 
 
 84. In change one finds rest; and it is weariness to be 
 always toiling at the same things and always beginning 
 afresh. 
 
HERACLITUS 33 
 
 85. It is hard to contend against the heart; for it is 
 ready to sell the soul to purchase its desires. 
 
 86. For the most part the knowledge of things divine 
 escapes us because of our unbelief. 
 
 87. The stupid man is wont to be struck dumb at 
 every word. 
 
 88. t One and the same thing are the living and the 
 dead, the waking and the sleeping, the young and the 
 old; the former change and are the latter, the latter 
 change in turn and are the former. 
 
 89. Those who are awake have one world in common; 
 those who are asleep retire every one to a private world 
 of his own. 
 
 90. All things are exchanged for fire and fire for all 
 things, just as wares are exchanged for gold and gold for 
 wares. 
 
 O-tt All things flow; nothing abides. 
 
 91. One cannot step twice into the same river. 
 
 (81 By water.) Into the same rivers we step and we 
 do not step; we are and we are not. 
 
 94. The sun will not overstep his measures, else would 
 the Erinnyes, the handmaids of justice, find him out. 
 
 92. The sibyl with raving lips uttering things solemn, 
 unadorned and rude, reaches with her voice over a 
 thousand years because of the god that inspires her. 
 
 93. The lord whose oracle is in Delphi neither reveals 
 nor conceals but indicates. 
 
 95. It is best to hide one's folly, but it is hard when 
 relaxed over the wine cups. 
 
 t Following the text of Bywater here. 
 
 ft Though this cannot be proved to be a quotation from Hera- 
 clitus, nothing is more certainly Heraclitean than the view it 
 expresses. It is repeatedly referred to both by Plato and by 
 Aristotle. 
 
34 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 97. Dogs bark at every one whom they do not know. 
 
 101. I have sought to understand myself. 
 
 102. To god all things are beautiful and good and 
 right; men deem some things wrong and some right. 
 
 103. In the circumference of a circle beginning and 
 end coincide. 
 
 104. What wisdom, what understanding is theirs? 
 They put their trust in bards and take the mob for their 
 teacher, not knowing that many are bad and few good. 
 
 106. One day is like another. 
 
 107. Eyes and ears are bad witnesses to men who 
 have not an understanding heart. 
 
 108. No one of all the men whose words I have heard 
 has arrived at the knowledge that wisdom is something 
 apart from all other things. 
 
 110. It were not good for men that all their wishes 
 should be fulfilled. 
 
 111. It is disease that makes health pleasant; evil, 
 good; hunger, plenty; weariness, rest. 
 
 112. Wisdom is the foremost virtue, and wisdom 
 consists in speaking the truth, and in lending an ear to 
 nature and acting according to her. 
 
 113-14. Wisdom is common to all. . . . They who 
 would speak with intelhgence must hold fast to the 
 [wisdom that is] common to all, as a city holds fast to 
 its law, and even more strongly. For all human laws 
 are fed by one divine law, which prevaileth as far as 
 it listeth and suffices for all things and excels all things. 
 
 116. It is in the power of all men to know themselves 
 and to practise temperance. 
 
 117. A man when he is drunk is led about by a beard- 
 less boy; he reels along paying no heed where he goes, 
 for his soul is wet. 
 
HERACLITUS 36 
 
 118. A dry soul is the wisest and the best. 
 
 119. Man's character is his fate. 
 
 121". The Ephesians would do well to hang themselves, 
 every man of them, and to leave the city to beardless 
 boys. For they banished Hermodorus, the best man of 
 them all, declaring: We will have no best man among 
 us; if there be any such let him be so elsewhere and 
 amongst other men. 
 
 123. Nature loves to hide. 
 
 126. It is the cold things that become warm, the warm 
 that become cold, the moist that become dry, and the 
 dry that become moist. 
 
 129. Pythagoras the son of Mnesarchus pursued his 
 investigations further than all other men, ... he made 
 himself a wisdom of his own, — much learning, bad sci- 
 ence. 
 
IV 
 THE PYTHAGOREAN PHILOSOPHY f 
 
 THE NUMBER PHILOSOPHY OF THE PYTHAGOREANS 
 
 At 1 this time and even earlier ft the so-called Pythag- 
 oreans applied themselves to mathematics and were the 
 first to advance this branch of knowledge, and spending 
 all their time in these pursuits they came to think that 
 the first principles of mathematics were the first prin- 
 ciples of all things that exist. And inasmuch as num- 
 bers are what is naturally first in this field, and since 
 they thought they discovered in nimabers a great many 
 more similarities with things that exist and that arise 
 in the processes of nature than one could find in fire or 
 earth or water, they thought, for example, that such and 
 such a property of numbers was justice, another the 
 soul and reason, another opportunity, and in the same 
 way of practically everything else ; and inasmuch as they 
 saw in numbers the properties and proportions of the 
 different kinds of harmonies, and since all other things so 
 far as their entire nature is concerned were modelled 
 upon numbers, whereas numbers are prior to anything 
 else in nature, — from ail this they inferred that the first 
 
 » Arist. Met. I. 5, 985 b 23. 
 
 t Pythagoras flourished about 530 b.c. ; Philolaus about 440. 
 The number philosophy of the Pythagoreans seems to have been 
 fully developed by the time of Philolaus. 
 
 ft Aristotle has just been speaking of Empedocles, Leucippu,3 
 and Democritus. 
 
 36 
 
THE PYTHAGOREAN PHILOSOPHY 37 
 
 elements of numbers were the first elements of all things 
 that exist, and that the whole heaven was a harmony 
 and a mmiber. And so all the analogies they could point 
 to between numbers and harmonies on the one hand, and 
 the properties and divisions and the whole arrangement 
 of the heavens on the other hand, these they would 
 collect and piece together, and if any gap appeared any- 
 where they would greedily seek after something to fill 
 it, in order that their entire system might be coherent. 
 For example, since they thought that the number ten 
 was a perfect thing and included all other numbers they 
 affirmed that the heavenly bodies must also be ten in 
 number, but inasmuch as only nine are visible they 
 invented a tenth, which they called the counter-earth. 
 
 These philosophers evidently regarded number as the 
 first principle, both as being the material cause of things 
 that exist and as describing their qualities and states as 
 well. And the elements of number they described as 
 the odd and the even, the former being limited and the 
 latter unlimited; and the number one they thought 
 was composed of both of these elements (for it is both 
 even and odd) and from the number one all other 
 nimibers spring, and the whole heavens are simply 
 numbers. 
 
 Others of the same school assume ten first principles 
 which they arrange in parallel rows: 
 
 limit 
 
 unlimited 
 
 at rest 
 
 in motion 
 
 odd 
 
 even 
 
 straight 
 
 crooked 
 
 one 
 
 many 
 
 light 
 
 darkness 
 
 right 
 
 left 
 
 good 
 
 evil 
 
 masculine 
 
 feminine 
 
 square 
 
 oblong 
 
 Alcmseon of Croton seems also to have shared this 
 view, and indeed either he got this theory from them or 
 
38 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 they from him, which latter is possible for Alcmseon 
 was a younger contemporary of Pythagoras, and he 
 expressed views very much hke those of the Pythag- 
 oreans, for he said that most human affairs are two- 
 phased; but he did not clearly define the opposites, as 
 they did, but took them just as they came — white, 
 black; sweet, bitter; good, evil; large, small. With 
 regard to the rest he vaguely threw out a few random 
 opinions; the Pythagoreans on the other hand tell us 
 just how many and what the opposites are. 
 
 So much at least we can gather from both of these 
 schools, that the opposites are the principles of things 
 that are; and from one of them we can learn how many 
 and what these opposites are. But how it is possible to 
 bring their view back to the causes which we have our- 
 selves laid down is a matter that has not been clearly 
 and definitely stated by them. Apparently they put 
 their elements under the head of material cause; for 
 they say that it is from these elements as already 
 existent that substance arises and that it is composed of 
 them. * 
 
 The 2 so-called Pythagoreans employ first principles 
 and elements more unusual than those of the physical 
 philosophers, the reason being that they do not derive 
 them from objects of sense: for the realities with which 
 mathematics deals, if we except those of astronomy, 
 do not partake of motion. None the less they discuss 
 and elaborate views about nature in all its aspects; they 
 account for the origin of the heavens, and with regard 
 to its parts and its attributes and its activities, closely 
 observing what happens, they apply their first principles 
 
 2 Arist. Met I. 8, 989 b 29. 
 
THE PYTHAGOREAN PHILOSOPHY 39 
 
 and causes to the explanation of these things, just as 
 if they were m entire accord with the physical philoso- 
 phers in holding that existence belongs only to that 
 which can be perceived by sense and which is comprised 
 within what we call the heavens. But, as we have said, 
 they introduce causes and first principles which are 
 adapted to lead them to a higher order of realities, and 
 indeed are more suitable for that purpose than for the 
 explanation of nature. But from what sort of a cause 
 movement arises, the limit and the unhmited, the odd 
 and the even being their only presuppositions, — they 
 say nothing of this, nor do they tell us how it is possible 
 that, apart from motion and change, there should be 
 generation and destruction or the revolutions of the 
 heavenly bodies. 
 
 Moreover, if we grant them their contention that size 
 arises from these elements, if we assume they have made 
 this out, still the question remains how it happens that 
 some bodies should be heavy and others light, for ac- 
 cording to the principles which they presuppose, and 
 from what they say about them, they are no leas ap- 
 plicable to the things of sense than they are to the ob- 
 jects with which mathematics is concerned. And this 
 is how it happens that they have said nothing about 
 fire or earth or bodies of that sort, not having, as I 
 suppose, anything to say that was specially applicable 
 to things of sense. Further, how is it possible to assume 
 that the cause of everything that exists under the 
 heavens and all that has come into being from the 
 beginning down to the present day is simply the proper- 
 ties of number and number itself, if at the same time 
 there is no other kind of number except precisely that 
 out of which the heavens are composed? For when in 
 
40 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 such and such a part of the number series they have 
 found ' opinion/ or, possibly, ' opportunity/ and again 
 a httle higher up or a little lower down, ' injustice,' or 
 'judgment,' or 'mixture,' and when they have given 
 us their proofs that every one of these things is a num- 
 ber, . . . the question arises whether the number which 
 we are to suppose each one of these things to be is 
 identical with the number which is foimd in the heavens, 
 or whether it is some other kind of a number over and 
 above this. 
 
 THE PYTHAGOREAN GOLDEN WORDS f 
 
 The gods immortal, as by law disposed. 
 First venerate, and reverence the oath : 
 Then to the noble heroes, and the powers 
 Beneath the earth, do homage with just rites. 
 
 Thy parents honor and thy nearest kin. 
 
 And from the rest choose friends on virtue's scale. 
 
 To gentle words and kindly deeds give way, 
 
 Nor hate thy friend for any slight offence. 
 
 Bear all thou canst; for Can dwells nigh to Must. 
 
 These things thus know. 
 
 What follow learn to rule: 
 The belly first, then sleep and lust and wrath. 
 
 t A word of caution. In inserting the " Golden Words " at this 
 point I do not mean to imply that they date from the time of 
 the early Pythagoreans. It is now generally recognized that they 
 have a much later origin. The earliest explicit mention of them is 
 found in the third century b.c. But before the time of Plato the 
 " Pythagorean Way of Life " had become proverbial, and I insert 
 the " Golden Words " here as giving a clear picture of what in later 
 times at least the Pythagorean Way of Life had come to represent. 
 The translation is that of Thomas Davidson, published in his 
 Aristotle and Ancient Educational Ideals. 
 
THE PYTHAGOREAN PHILOSOPHY 41 
 
 Do nothing base with others or alone: 
 But most of all thyself in reverence hold. 
 
 Then practise justice both in deed and word, 
 Nor let thyself wax thoughtless about aught: 
 But know that death's the common lot of all. 
 
 Be not untimely wasteful of thy wealth, 
 Like vulgar men, nor yet illiberal. 
 In all things moderation answers best. 
 
 Do things that profit thee : think ere thou act. 
 
 Let never sleep thy drowsy eyelids greet, 
 
 Till thou hast pondered each act of the day : 
 
 ' Wherein have I transgressed? What have I done? 
 
 What duty shunned? ' — beginning from the first. 
 
 Unto the last. Then grieve and fear for what 
 
 Was basely done; but in the good rejoice. 
 
 These thmgs perform; these meditate; these love. 
 These in the path of godlike excellence 
 Will place thee, yea, by Him who gave our souls 
 The number Four, perennial nature's spring! 
 But, ere thou act, crave from the gods success. 
 
 These precepts having mastered, thou shalt know 
 
 The system of the never-dying gods 
 
 And dying men, and how from all the rest 
 
 Each thing is sundered, and how held in one : 
 
 And thou shalt know, as it is right thou shouldst. 
 
 That nature everywhere is uniform, 
 
 And so shalt neither hope for things that lie 
 
 Beyond all hope, nor fail of any truth. 
 
42 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 But from such food abstain as we have named, 
 And, while thou seek'st to purge and free thy soul, 
 Use judgment, and reflect on everything, 
 Setting o 'er all best Thought as charioteer. 
 
 Be glad to gather goods, nor less to lose. 
 
 Of human ills that spring from spirit-powers 
 Endure thy part nor peevishly complain. 
 Cure what thou canst: 'tis well, and then reflect: 
 'Tate never lays too much upon the good." 
 
 Words many, brave and base, assail men's ears. 
 Let these not disconcert or trammel thee; 
 But when untruth is spoken, meekly yield. 
 
 What next I say in every act observe: 
 Let none by word or deed prevail on thee 
 To do or say what were not best for thee. 
 Think ere thou act, lest f ooUsh things be done ; — 
 For thoughtless deeds and words the caitiff mark;-- 
 But strongly do what will not bring regret. 
 Do naught thou dost not know; but duly learn. 
 So shall thy life with happiness o'erflow. 
 
 Be not neglectful of thy body's health; 
 But measure use in drink, food, exercise — 
 I mean by '^ measure'' what brings no distress. 
 
 Follow a cleanly, simple mode of life. 
 And guard against such acts as envy breed. 
 Then, if, when thou the body leav'st, thou mount 
 To the free ether, deathless shalt thou be, 
 A god immortal, — mortal never more! 
 
EMPEDOCLES 
 
 [Flourished about 455 B.C.] 
 
 THE FRAGMENTS 
 
 4.t ... But come, use all the hands of sense in 
 grasping each thing in the way that it is clear. Do not 
 put greater confidence in what thou seest than in what 
 thou hearest, nor trust a loud noise more than the things 
 that the tongue makes clear; and do not withhold thy 
 confidence in any of the other hands which open a way 
 to knowledge; but know each thing in the way it is clear. 
 
 6. Hear first the four roots of all things: brightly 
 shining Zeus, life-bringing Hera, Aidoneus, and Nestis 
 who bedews with her tears the well-spring of mortals. 
 
 8. And another thing I shall tell thee: of no one of 
 all the things that perish is there any birth, nor any end 
 in baneful death. There is only a mingling and a 
 separation of what has been mingled. But ^' birth" is 
 the name men use for this. 
 
 11. Fools! Short is the reach of their thinking who 
 suppose that what before was not comes into being, or 
 that anything perishes and is utterly destroyed. 
 
 12. For it is inconceivable that anything should arise 
 from that which in no way exists, and it is impossible, 
 and a thing unheard of, that what exists should perish, 
 for it will always be wherever one in every case puts it. 
 
 1 1 follow the text of Diels except where otherwise noted, and give 
 his numbering of the fragments. 
 
 43 
 
44 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 17. . . . Come hearken to my words, for learning 
 adds strength to thy mind. As I said before, when I un- 
 folded the chief points of my discourse, twofold is the 
 truth I shall disclose. At one time things grew to be 
 one alone out of many; ana then again [this] fell asunder 
 so that there were many from the one, — fire and water and 
 earth and the endless height of the air; and, apart from 
 these, baneful Strife, with equal weight throughout, 
 and in their midst Love, equally distributed in length 
 and breadth. Let thy mind's gaze rest upon her, nor 
 sit with dazed eyes. It is she that is held to be implanted 
 in the parts of mortals; it is she who awakens thoughts 
 of love and fulfils the works of peace. They call her 
 by the name of Delight and Aphrodite. No mortal man 
 has searched her out as she swirls around in [the ele- 
 ments]. But do thou hearken to the guileless course of 
 my argument. For all these [elements] are equal and 
 of like age. Each one has a different office, each has 
 its own character, but as time runs on they win in turn 
 the upper hand. And besides them nothing is added, 
 nothing taken away. For were they being continually 
 destroyed they would no longer exist. But what could 
 increase this All, and whence could it come? And 
 whither could these elements pass away, since there is 
 no place bereft of them? No, they are the same, but 
 as they penetrate each other, sometimes one thing 
 arises, sometimes another, and continuously and to all 
 eternity they are the same. 
 
 35. . . . When Strife had fallen to the lowest depth 
 of the vortex, and Love hae ome to be in the centre of 
 the whirl, all things came together in Love so as to be 
 one only, — not all at once, but coming together at their 
 pleasure, one from this quarter, one from that. And 
 
EMPEDOCLES 45 
 
 as they came together Strife retired to the outermost 
 boimdary.f But many things unmixed remained, 
 alternating with the things that were mixed, as many 
 as Strife, still remaining on high, retained in its grasp; 
 for it had not yet blamelessly retired altogether to the 
 outermost boundaries of the circle. Partly it still 
 remained within, and partly it had separated from the 
 elements. But just in proportion as it was continuously 
 rushing out a gracious and divine impulse of blameless 
 Love kept ever coming in. And straightway things grew 
 mortal that were wont to be immortal before, and things 
 before unmixed were mixed, changing their ways of Ufe. 
 And from these as they were mingled the countless tribes 
 of mortal creatures poured forth, fashioned in all manner 
 of forms, a wonder to behold. 
 
 82. Hair and leaves and the thick feathers of birds and 
 the scales that grow on tough limbs are the same thing. 
 
 100. In this wise do all breathe in and out. All have 
 bloodless tubes of flesh stretched over the surface of the 
 body, and at their mouths is the outermost surface of 
 the skin pierced with pores closely packed so that the 
 blood is kept in, while an easy way is cut for the air 
 through the openings. Then, whenever the smooth 
 blood rushes back, the blustering air rushes in with a 
 furious surge, and when the blood springs back, the air 
 is breathed out again. As when a girl playing with a 
 klepsydra of shinmg brass, as long as she holds the 
 mouth of the pipe pressed against her comely hand 
 and dips it in the smooth mass of silvery water, the 
 water does not flow into the vessel, but the weight of the 
 air inside as it presses on the closely packed pores keeps 
 
 t Following Stein^s arrangement instead of repeating, as Diels 
 and Carsten do, a line given below. 
 
46 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 it back, until she uncovers the compressed stream [of 
 air]. Then, however, as the air escapes, a correspondmg 
 mass of water flows in. And so in the same way when 
 water fills the hollow of the brazen vessel, and the neck 
 or opening is stopped by the human hand, the air outside 
 which strives to get in holds back the water at the 
 gates of the narrow gurgling passage, holding possession 
 of the end, imtil she lets go with her hand. Then, on 
 the contrary, the opposite of what happened before 
 takes place, and as the air rushes m a corresponding 
 mass of water rushes out. Just so, when the smooth- 
 blood that courses through the limbs turns backward 
 and rushes into the interior, straightway the stream of 
 air comes surging in, and when the blood crowds back 
 the air breathes out again, retracing its steps. 
 
 109. For with earth we perceive earth, with water, 
 water, with air, the air divme, and with fire, the devour- 
 ing fire, and love we perceive by means of love, hate by 
 means of dismal hate. 
 
 133. We cannot bring God near so as to reach him 
 with our eyes or lay hold of him with our hands — the 
 [two ways] along which the chief highway of persuasion 
 leads into the mind of man. 
 
 134. For he has no human head attached to bodily 
 members, nor do two branching arms dangle from his 
 shoulders; he has neither feet nor swift knees nor any 
 hairy parts. No, he is only mind, sacred and ineffable mind, 
 flashing through the whole universe with swift thoughts. 
 
 SECONDARY SOURCES 
 
 He [Empedocles] ^ makes the material elements four 
 in number; fire, air, earth, and water. These are eternal, 
 
 1 Theophrastus, Phys. Ojnn. 3 (Dox. 478). 
 
EMPEDOCLES 47 
 
 but they change in size — are large or small — through 
 •composition and separation. But, accurately speaking, 
 he makes the first principles love and strife, for by them 
 the others are set in motion. For the elements must 
 continually be set in motion by each of the two in its 
 turn, now being united by love, and anon separated by 
 strife. Consequently there are according to him six 
 first principles. 
 
 Empedocles speaks in the same way of all the senses, 
 and says that we perceive through [effluences] fitting 
 into the pores of each sense. And that is why one sense 
 cannot pick out the objects of another, for the pores of 
 some are too wide and of others too narrow w^ith reference 
 to the object of sense, so that the [effluences] either go 
 through untouched or are unable to enter at all. 
 
 He tries, too, to explain the nature of the eye. He 
 says that its interior is fire [and water]. This is sur- 
 rounded by earth and watery vapor through which the 
 fire passes like the light in lanterns. The pores of fire 
 and water are arranged alternately. And we perceive 
 fight objects by means of the pores of fire, dark objects 
 by means of those of water. The objects in each case 
 fit the corresponding pores, and the colors are carried 
 into the eye by effluences. 
 
 . . . Hearing, he says, is caused by sounds outside. 
 For when [the air] is set in motion by the voice there is 
 a sound in the ear, for hearing is Uke a beU sounding in 
 the ear which he calls a ''fleshy nodule." And the air 
 when set in motion strikes on the soHd parts and makes 
 a soimd. 
 
 Smell comes from breathing, and that is why those 
 whose respiratory movement is most violent have the 
 keenest sense of smefl, and why light and subtle bodies 
 
48 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 exhale the strongest odors. As for taste and touch he 
 does not explain how or by what means they arise, 
 except to give the general explanation that sensation 
 is due to [effluences] fitting into the pores. 
 
 Pleasure is produced by what is like, in the parts of 
 the body and in the mixtures, pain by what is unlike. 
 
 * * 
 
 And 2 he gives a similar account of knowledge and 
 ignorance. Thinking, he says, is caused by what is like, 
 being ignorant, by what is unlike, speaking as if thinking 
 were the same as sensation, or very much like it. 
 
 * * 
 
 Moreover ^ Anaxagoras and Empedocles say that 
 
 [plants] are set in motion by desire, and that they per- 
 ceive, and feel pleasure and pain. 
 
 *** 
 . . . Anaxagoras,^ Democritus and Empedocles say 
 that [plants] have mind and intelhgence. 
 
 * * 
 
 Empedocles ^ was of the opinion that sex had been 
 
 mixed in them. * 
 
 * * 
 
 Again ^ Empedocles says that plants come into being 
 in an inferior world that is not perfect in its completion, 
 and when it is completed the animal comes into being. 
 
 * * 
 
 And 7 so Empedocles was wrong when he said that 
 animals have many characteristics because it just hap- 
 pens so in their genesis, as, for example, that they have 
 such a vertebrated spine because it fell to their lot to be 
 descended from one that bent around. 
 
 2 Theophrast. De Sens. (Dox. 500). 
 
 3 Pseudo-Arist. Ds Plant. 815 a 15. 
 
 *Ib. 815 b 16. « lb. 817 b 35 (cf. D. 173). 
 
 5lb. 815 a 20. ' Arist. De Part. An. 640 a 19. 
 
VI 
 ANAXAGORAS 
 
 [Flourished about 460 B.C.] 
 
 THE FRAGMENTS 
 
 l.f All things were together, in number and in 
 smallness without limit, for the small, too, was without 
 limit. And as long as all things were together no one 
 of them could be clearly distinguished, because of their 
 smallness. Yes, and air and ether, both being infinite, 
 dominated all things, for they are the biggest things in 
 the universe both in quantity and in size. 
 
 4. And this being so one must suppose that many 
 things and of all sorts coexist in all [the worlds] that 
 are brought together — seeds of all things, having all 
 sorts of forms and colors and savors. And (in all 
 these worlds) men have been put together, and all 
 animals that have life; and these men possess inhabited 
 cities and tilled fields, as we do; and they have a sun 
 and moon and other heavenly bodies, as we have; and 
 their earth brings forth many plants and of all sorts, 
 the most serviceable of which they garner and use for 
 their sustenance. This then is the view that I have put 
 forward with regard to the differentiation [of the primal 
 mixture], — that it takes place not with us alone but also 
 elsewhere. 
 
 1 1 follow the text as given by Diels, with a few exceptions which 
 are noted, and have given his numbering of the fragments, 
 
 49 
 
50 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Before these things were differentiated, when all things 
 were still together, there was not even any color clearly 
 distinguishable, for the mixture of all things prevented 
 it, — of the moist and the dry, the warm and the cold, the 
 bright and the dark. (And there was much earth too in 
 the mixture f) and an endless multitude of seeds, no one 
 like another. 
 
 5. We must know that when these things are separated 
 one from another the whole is neither more nor less 
 [than it was before], for it is impossible that there should 
 be more than the whole, but the whole is always equal 
 to itself. 
 
 17. We Greeks are wrong in using the expressions '' to 
 come into being" and "to be destroyed," for no thing 
 comes into being or is destroyed. Rather, a thing is 
 mixed with or separated from already existing things. 
 And so it would be more accurate to say, instead of 
 origin, commingling; instead of destruction, dissolution. 
 
 6. And since the parts of the great and of the small 
 are equal in number, this is another reason for holding 
 that all things are in everything. Nor is it possible for 
 one of the parts to exist in isolation from the rest, but 
 everything includes a portion of everything. Since it 
 is impossible that there should be any least part no 
 portion can be isolated, or come to be by itself, but as at 
 the beginning, so now, all things are together. And in 
 everything that has been differentiated, in what is 
 largest as in what is smallest, many things are contained, 
 and an equal number. 
 
 8. Nor are the things that exist in one and the same 
 world isolated, or chopped off from one another as with 
 
 t This clause does not seem to belong in this context. The text is 
 possibly corrupt. See Burnet, p. 285, note. 
 
ANAXAGORAS 51 
 
 a hatchet — the warm from the cold or the cold from the 
 warm. 
 
 10. For how could hair come from what is not hair, 
 flesh from what is not flesh? 
 
 9. . . . while these things are thus swirling around 
 and becoming differentiated by force and velocity. 
 And the velocity gives the force. But their velocity 
 is not to be compared to the velocity of anything in our 
 present world. It is in every way many times as swift. 
 
 15. The dense and the moist, the cold and the dark, 
 crowded together where the earth now is; the rare, the 
 warm, the dry, and the bright, f travelled out into the 
 far-off ether. 
 
 16. And from these as they were differentiated the 
 earth was fashioned. For from the clouds water is 
 separated off, from the water, earth ; and from the earth 
 stones are solidified by the influence of the cold, and they 
 travel out still farther from the water. 
 
 11. In everything there is a portion of everything 
 except mind. There are some things in which there is 
 mind also. 
 
 12. All other things contain a portion of everything, 
 but mind is infinite and self-ruled and is mixed with 
 nothing. For if it did not exist by itself, but were mixed 
 with anything else, it would contain a portion of all 
 things. . . . For in everything there is a portion of 
 everything, as I have said above. And in that case the 
 things mixed with it would prevent it from having 
 power over anything else such as it now has, being alone 
 and by itself. For it is the thinnest of all things and 
 the purest, and it possesses all knowledge and the greatest 
 
 t Following Schorn rather than Diels here, and adding koX t^ 
 Xafxitp6v, after Hippolytus. 
 
52 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 power. And whatsoever things are ahve, the largest as 
 well as the smallest, over all is mind the ruler. And 
 over the whole revolving universe mind held sway, so 
 that it caused it to revolve in the beginning. The 
 revolution first began in a small area ; now it extends over 
 a larger space, and it will extend still farther. And 
 mind knows all things, whether mixed together, or 
 differentiated and separate. Mind also regulated all 
 things, — what they were to be, what they were [but are 
 not now], and what they are; and mind regulated the 
 revolution in which revolve the stars, the sun and the 
 moon, and the air and the ether that are differentiated 
 [from the primal mixture]. And it is this revolution 
 that caused the differentiation. The dense is differenti- 
 ated from the rare, the warm from the cold, the light from 
 the dark, the dry from the moist; and there are many 
 portions of many things. Nothing, however, is alto- 
 gether differentiated and distinct from anything else, 
 excepting only mind. And all mind, whether greater 
 or smaller, is alike. Nothing else, however, is like any- 
 thing else. But whatever portions are predominant in 
 each individual thing, these it has always been taken to 
 be, because they were the most conspicuous things. 
 
 13. And when mind began to set things in motion 
 there was a differentiation of all that was in motion, and 
 whatever mind set in motion was all separated; and 
 when things were set in motion and separated the revolu- 
 tion caused them to be much more separated. 
 
 14. And mind, which is eternal, is most assuredly now 
 also where all other things are, — in the surrounding mass, 
 in the things that have been differentiated, and in the 
 things that are being differentiated. 
 
 15. For there is no least of what is small: there is 
 
ANAXAGORAS 53 
 
 always a still smaller. For it is impossible that that 
 which is should cease to be by being divided. On the 
 other hand there is always a still larger than the large. 
 And [the large] is equal to the small in number [of 
 portions]. In itself, however, each thing is both large 
 and small. 
 
 7. And so we cannot know either by word or by deed f 
 the number of the things that have been differentiated. 
 
 21. Because of the weakness of our senses we are 
 unable to discern the truth. 
 
 SECONDARY SOURCES 
 
 Anaxagoras ^ of Clazomense, son of Hegesiboulus, 
 asserted that the homoiomeries were the first principles 
 of all that exists. How anything could arise from what 
 is not, or pass away into nothingness, seemed to him to 
 present insuperable difficulties. The fact is we take 
 nourishment that is simple and uniform, such as bread 
 and water, and from it hair, veins, arteries, flesh, nerves, 
 bones, and other parts of the body are made to grow; 
 and since these things come into being we must admit 
 that in the food taken all the things that are exist, and 
 that it is from the things that are that all things derive 
 their increase. Consequently the food contains the 
 parts that are generative of blood, nerves, bones, and 
 other things, — parts which w^ere visible only to the eye of 
 
 1 Aet. I. 3, 5 (Diels 279). 
 t As we should say, by reason or by experience. From Aristotle's 
 discussion it would appear that the ground for this assertion is the 
 fact that all knowing is defining and setting limits, which cannot be 
 done in the case of what is strictly limitless. But as Anaxagoras 
 held that mind knows all things, he must, Aristotle thinks, have held 
 that they were limited by thought. This Aristotle holds to be 
 inconsistent. But it need not have appeared such from the stand- 
 point of Anaxagoras. 
 
54 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 reason. For we must not reduce all things to objects 
 of sense. Sense would indicate that it is bread and 
 water that make these things, f but the eye of reason 
 can detect these portions already in the bread and water. 
 From the fact that the portions contained in the food are 
 like the things generated by it he called them homoiome- 
 ries; and the first principles of existing things, so far as 
 their matter is concerned, he declared to be these 
 homoiomeries. He began his work with these words: 
 ''AH things were together; and mind separated them and 
 put them in order." * 
 
 According 2 to Anaxagoras perception is by opposites; 
 for like is not affected by like. He attempts to give the 
 details with regard to each sense separately. Seeing, 
 for example, is occasioned by the image on the pupil of 
 the eye; but no image is cast on what is of the same 
 color, but only on what is of a different color. With 
 most animals this difference of color occurs in the day- 
 time; with some, however, it occurs at night, and that 
 is why they are keen-sighted at that time. Still, as a 
 rule, night rather than day is of the same color with the 
 eyes. And it is in the daytime that the image is cast, 
 because light is a joint cause of the image; and the pre- 
 dominant color casts an image more readily on its 
 opposite. 
 
 In the same way touch and taste discriminate their 
 objects. For what is just as hot or just as cold as we 
 are neither warms us nor cools us by its presence; nor 
 do we know sweet and sour by means of themselves. 
 By the warm we know the cold, by the brackish water 
 
 2 Theophr. De Sens. 27 (Dox. 507-8). 
 t That is, blood, nerves, etc. 
 
ANAXAGOK\S 55 
 
 the fresl , by the sour the sweet — according to our 
 deficiency in each case. For all these things exist in us 
 from the t rst. And similarly we smell at the same time 
 that we bieathe; and we hear by means of the sound 
 penetrating to the brain — for the surrounding bone on 
 which the sound impinges is hollow. 
 
 Further, all sensation is accompanied by pain. This 
 would seem to be the simple consequence of his pre- 
 supposition; for the contact of unlike with unlike is in 
 every case painful. This pain is conspicuous in the case 
 of sensations long continued or very intense; for brilliant 
 colors and loud noises cause pain, and one cannot stand 
 the same sensations very long. 
 
 The larger animals are the more sensitive; and, in 
 general, sensation is an affair of size. For animals that 
 have large, clear, and bright eyes see large things and at 
 a great distance, and the opposite is the case with small- 
 eyed animals. The same holds of hearing. Big ears 
 hear loud sounds and from afar, while fainter sounds 
 pass unnoticed : small ears hear sounds that are faint 
 and near. The same holds of smell too. . . . Roughly 
 speaking, large noses do not perceive a thin smell, nor 
 small noses a thick one. 
 
 SOME OF Aristotle's comments on anaxagoras 
 Anaxagoras ^ says that man is the wisest of animals 
 because he has hands. * 
 
 Anaxagoras,^ older in years, younger in works (than 
 Empedocles), makes the first principles of things limit- 
 less in number. Practically all things made up of like 
 parts arise and perish, just as fire and water do, by 
 
 3 Arist. Part. An. I. 10, 687 a 7 (R. P. 127 b). 
 a Arist. Met. I. 3, 984 all. 
 
56 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHT 
 
 combination and separation. In no other sensf do they 
 arise or perish. Rather, they last forever. 
 
 *** 
 If ^ you follow up the theory of Anaxap;oras, and 
 develop what he meant to say, you will very likely find 
 him speaking more like our modern philosophers. For 
 when as yet nothing was clearly differentiated, it is 
 obvious that one could say nothing true about that 
 [undifferentiated] substance. I mean, for example, it 
 was neither white nor black nor gray, nor of any other 
 color, but was necessarily colorless. Otherwise it would 
 have had some one of those colors. So, too, by the same 
 line of argument, it had no taste; nor any other like 
 quality. In fact, it could not have any quality at all, 
 or any quantity, nor could it be any definite thing. For 
 that would mean that it would have some definite form, 
 which is impossible, since all things were mixed to- 
 gether. That is [if it had any definite characteristic], 
 differentiation would already have taken place. But he 
 says explicitly, all things were mixed together, with the 
 exception of mind which alone was unmixed and pure. 
 The inference from all this is, that he took as his first 
 principles. Unity — for Unity is simple and unmixed — 
 and the Other, which we [Platonists ?] call the indefinite 
 before it has been defined, and before it participates 
 in the ideas. So, while what he says is neither correct 
 nor clear, still he means something very much like that 
 which later philosophers, and thinkers now more in 
 vogue, affirm. 
 
 « Arist. Met. I. 8, 989 b 4. 
 
VII 
 
 THE ATOMISTS 
 
 LEUCIPPUS 
 [Flourished about 440 b.c] 
 
 Nothing ^ comes into being without a reason, but 
 everything arises from a specific ground and driven by 
 necessity. i^ 
 
 Leucippus,2 the Eleate, or the Milesian (for he is 
 described in both ways), at first agreed with the philo- 
 sophical views of Parmenides. But he did not follow 
 the same path as Parmenides and Xenophanes in his 
 account of the things that are, but, apparently, just the 
 opposite. For whereas they made the All one, im- 
 movable, uncreated and limited, and did not permit 
 inquiry into that which is not (to iit] 6V), he began by 
 assuming an unlimited number of elements, the atoms, 
 which were always in motion. And he supposed them 
 to have an infinite variety of forms, because there was 
 no reason why they should have one form rather than 
 another, and because he observed that the process of 
 birth and change was unceasing. He further believed 
 that that which is (to 6v) does not more truly exist 
 than that which is not {ro fjurj 6v) , and that both alike 
 are causes of the things that come into being. For he 
 
 »Leucippus, Fr. 2, Diels. 
 2Theophr. Phys. Op. Fr. 8 (D. 359). 
 57 
 
58 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 assumed that the substance of the atoms was sohd and 
 full; and he called them ''what is/' and that they moved 
 in the void, and he called that 'Vhat is not/' and he 
 said that it was no less real than that which is. And 
 very much in the same way his associate Democritus 
 of Abdera assumes as first principles the plenum and 
 the void. * 
 
 Leucippus 3 thought he had a theory which was in 
 accord with sense-perception, and which did not annul 
 coming into being, or passing away, or motion, or the 
 multiplicity of existent things. With regard to these 
 matters he spoke the language of experience; but he 
 agreed with the philosophers who set up the One, in 
 holding that there is no motion apart from empty space ; 
 and he says further that empty space is non-being, and 
 that no part of being can be non-being. For, strictly 
 speaking, that which is, is a plenum. But, he added, 
 being which answers to this description is not one ; rather 
 there is an infinite number of such beings, and they are 
 invisible on account of the smallness of their bulk. They 
 move in empty space (for there is empty space); and, 
 coming together, they cause coming-into-being; being 
 separated, they cause passing-away. 
 
 LEUCIPPUS AND DEMOCRITUS 
 
 In ^ the main Leucippus and Democritus explain all 
 things in the same way and by the same argument, 
 taking as their first principle what in the order of na- 
 ture comes first. Some of the ancient philosophers had 
 thought that that which is {to 6v) must necessarily be 
 one and immovable, for [so ran their argument] it could 
 
 8 Arist. De Gen. et Corr. 325 a 23 (D. 358). 
 aArist. De Gen. et Corr. 324 b 35 (D. 358). 
 
THE ATOMISTS 59 
 
 not possibly move unless there were empty space apart 
 from it, whereas empty space is non-existent; and it 
 could not be a many unless there were empty space to 
 keep the many asunder. 
 
 DEMOCRITUS 
 [Flourished about 420 B.C.] 
 
 THE FRAGMENTS 
 
 6.t Man should know from this rule that he is cut off 
 from truth. 
 
 7. This argument too shows that in truth we know 
 nothing about anything, but every man shares the 
 generally prevailing opinion. 
 
 8. And yet it will be obvious that it is difficult to 
 really know of what sort each thing is. 
 
 10. Now, that we do not really know of what sort 
 each thing is, or is not, has often been shown. 
 
 117. Verily we know nothing. Truth is buried deeo. 
 
 9. In fact we do not know anything infallibly, but 
 only that which changes according to the condition of our 
 body and of the [influences] that reach and impinge 
 upon it. 
 
 11. There are two forms of Imowledge, one genuine, 
 one obscure. To the obscure belong all of the following: 
 sight, hearing, smell, taste, feeling. The other form is 
 the genuine, and is quite distinct from this. (And then 
 distinguishing the genuine from the obscure, he con- 
 tinues:) Whenever the obscure [way of knowing] has 
 reached the minimum sensibile of hearing, smell, taste, 
 and touch, and when the investigation must be carried 
 
 fThe numbering of the fragments is that of Diels, and I follow his 
 text. 
 
60 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 farther into that which is still finer, then arises the 
 genuine way of knowing, which has a finer organ of 
 thought. ^% 
 
 0. [Democritus] ^ says: By convention {v6fi(p) sweet is 
 sweet, by convention bitter is bitter, by convention hot 
 is hot, by convention cold is cold, by convention color 
 is color. But in reality there are atoms and the void. 
 That is, the objects of sense are supposed to be real and 
 it is customary to regard them as such, but in truth 
 they are not. Only the atoms and the void are real. 
 
 2. Of practical wisdom these are the three fruits: to 
 deliberate well, to speak to the point, to do what is 
 right. 
 
 3. He who intends to enjoy life should not be busy 
 about many things, and in what he does should not under- 
 take what exceeds his natural capacity. On the contrary, 
 he should have himself so in hand that even when fortune 
 comes his way, and is apparently ready to lead him on to 
 higher things, he should put her aside and not o'erreach 
 his powers. For a being of moderate size is safer than 
 one that bulks too big. 
 
 THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF DEMOCRITUS 
 
 35. If any one hearken with understanding to these 
 sayings of mine many a deed worthy of a good man shall 
 he perform and many a foolish deed be spared. 
 
 37. If one choose the goods of the soul, he chooses the 
 diviner [portion]; if the goods of the body, the merely 
 mortal. 
 
 38. 'Tis well to restrain the wicked, and in any case 
 not to join him in his wrong-doing. 
 
 40. 'Tis not in strength of body nor in gold that men 
 
 fiSext. Emp. Math. VII. 135, 
 
THE ATO MISTS 61 
 
 find happiness, but in uprightness and in fulness of under- 
 standing. 
 
 41. Not from fear but from a sense of duty (Bih to 
 Seov) refrain from your sins. 
 
 43. Repentance for one's evil deeds is the safeguard of 
 life. 
 
 45. He who does wrong is more unhappy than he 
 who suffers wrong. 
 
 49. 'Tis a grievous thing to be subject to an inferior. 
 
 53. Many who have not learned wisdom live wisely, 
 and many who do the basest deeds can make most 
 learned speeches. 
 
 54. Fools learn wisdom through misfortune. 
 
 55. One should emulate works and deeds of virtue, 
 not arguments about it. 
 
 57. Strength of body is nobility in beasts of burden, 
 strength of character is nobility in men. 
 
 58. The hopes of the right-minded may be realized, 
 those of fools are impossible. 
 
 59. Neither art nor wisdom may be attained with- 
 out learning. 
 
 60. It is better to correct your own faults than those 
 of another. 
 
 61. Those who have a well-ordered character lead 
 also a well-ordered life. 
 
 62. Good means not [merely] not to do wrong, but 
 rather not to desire to do wrong. 
 
 64. There are many who know many things, yet are 
 lacking in wisdom. 
 
 77. Fame and wealth without wisdom are unsafe pos- 
 sessions. 
 
 78. Making money is not without its value, but 
 nothing is baser than to make it by wrong-doing. 
 
62 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 68. You can tell the man who rings true from the 
 man who rings false, not by his deeds alone, but also 
 by his desires. 
 
 82. False men and shams talk big and do nothing. 
 
 89. My enemy is not the man who wrongs me, but 
 the man who means to wrong me. 
 
 90. The enmity of one's kindred is far more bitter 
 than the enmity of strangers. 
 
 98. The friendship of one wise man is better than 
 the friendship of a host of fools. 
 
 99. No one deserves to live who has not at least one 
 good-man-and-true for a friend. 
 
 108. Seek after the good, and with much toil shall ye 
 find it; the evil turns up of itself without your seek- 
 ing it. 
 
 111. For a man petticoat government is the limit 
 of insolence. 
 
 118. (Democritus said he would rather discover a 
 single demonstration than win the throne of Persia.) 
 
 119. Men have made an idol of luck as an excuse 
 for their own thoughtlessness. Luck seldom measures 
 swords with wisdom. Most things in life quick wit 
 and sharp vision can set right. 
 
 154a. In the weightiest matters we must go to school 
 to the animals, and learn spinning and weaving from the 
 spider, building from the swallow, singing from the 
 birds, — from the swan and the nightingale, imitating 
 their art. 
 
 160. An evil and foolish and intemperate and irre- 
 ligious life should not be called a bad life, but rather^ 
 dying long drawn out. 
 
 176. Fortune is lavish with her favors, but not to 
 be depended on. Nature on the other hand is self- 
 
THE ATOMISTS 63 
 
 sufficing, and therefore with her feebler but trust- 
 worthy [resources] she wins the greater [meed] of 
 hope. 
 
 174. The right-minded man, ever incUned to righteous 
 and lawful deeds, is joyous day and night, and strong, 
 and free from care. But if a man take no heed of the 
 right, and leave undone the things he ought to do, then 
 will the recollection of no one of all his transgressions 
 bring him any joy, but only anxiety and self -reproaching. 
 
 175. Now as of old the gods give men all good 
 things, excepting only those that are baneful and in- 
 jurious and useless. These, now as of old, are not gifts 
 of the gods : men stumble into them themselves because 
 of their own blindness and folly. 
 
 178. Of all things the worst to teach the young is dal- 
 liance, for it is this that is the parent of those pleasures 
 from which wickedness springs. 
 
 231. A sensible man takes pleasure in what he has in- 
 stead of pining for what he has not. 
 
 230. A hfe without a holiday is like a long journey 
 without an inn to rest at. 
 
 232. The pleasures that give most joy are the ones 
 that most rarely come. 
 
 233. Throw moderation to the winds, and the greatest 
 pleasures bring the greatest pains. 
 
 234. Men in their prayers beg the gods for health, not 
 knowing that this is a thing they have in their own 
 power. Through their incontinence undermining it, 
 they themselves become, because of their passions, the 
 betrayers of their own health. 
 
 191. Men achieve tranquillity through moderation in 
 pleasure and through the symmetry of life. Want and 
 superfluity are apt to upset them and to cause great 
 
64 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 perturbations in the soul. The souls that are rent by 
 violent conflicts are neither stable nor tranquil. One 
 should therefore set his mind upon the things that are 
 within his power, and be content with his opportunities, 
 nor let his memory dwell very long on the envied and 
 admired of men, nor idly sit and dream of them. Rather, 
 he should contemplate the lives of those who suffer 
 hardship, and vividly bring to mind their sufferings, so 
 that your own present situation may appear to you 
 important and to be envied, and so that it may no longer 
 be your portion to suffer torture in your soul by your 
 longing for more. For he who admires those who have, 
 and whom other men deem blest of fortune, and who 
 spends all his time idly dreaming of them, will be forced 
 to be always contriving some new device because of his 
 [insatiable] desire, until he ends by doing some desperate 
 deed forbidden by the laws. And therefore one ought 
 not to desire other men's blessings, and one ought not to 
 envy those who have more, but rather, comparing his 
 life with that of those who fare worse, and laying to 
 heart their sufferings, deem himself blest of fortune in 
 that he lives and fares so much better than they. Hold- 
 ing fast to this saying you will pass your life in greater 
 tranquillity and will avert not a few of the plagues of 
 life — envy and jealousy and bitterness of mind. 
 
 235. All who delight in the pleasures of the belly, ex- 
 ceeding all measure in eating and drinking and love, find 
 that the pleasures are brief and last but a short while — 
 only so long as they are eating and drinking — but the 
 pains that come after are many and endure. The long- 
 ing for the same things keeps ever returning, and 
 whenever the objects of one's desire are reahzed forth- 
 with the pleasure vanishes, and one has no further use 
 
THE ATOMISTS 66 
 
 for them. The pleasure is brief, and once more the 
 need for the same things returns. 
 
 252. We ought to regard the interests of the state as of 
 far greater moment than all else, in order that they may 
 be administered well; and we ought not to engage in eager 
 rivalry in despite of equity, nor arrogate to ourselves 
 any power contrary to the common welfare. For a 
 state well administered is our greatest safeguard. In 
 this all is summed up: When the state is in a healthy 
 condition all things prosper; when it is corrupt, all things 
 go to ruin. 
 
 THE ATOMISTS ON THE SOUL, ACCORDING TO ARISTOTLE 
 
 There ^ are some who maintain that fundamentally 
 and primarily the soul is the principle of movement. 
 They reasoned that that which is not itself in motion 
 cannot move anything else, and thus they regarded the 
 soul as one of those objects which were in motion. 
 Democritus, whose view agrees with that of Leucippus, 
 consequently maintained soul to be a sort of fire and 
 heat. For as the forms of the atoms are as the atoms 
 themselves unlimited, he declares that those which are 
 spherical in shape constitute fire and soul, these atoms 
 being like the so-called motes which are seen in the sun- 
 beams that enter through doorways, and it is in such a 
 mixed heap of seeds that he finds the elements of the 
 whole natural world. The reason w^hy they maintain 
 that the spherical atoms constitute the soul, is that 
 atoms of such configuration are best able to penetrate 
 through everything, and to set the other things in motion 
 at the same time as they are moved themselves, the 
 
 « Arist. De An. I. 2, 403 b 30. The passages from Aristotle's 
 Psychology are given in Wallace's translation. 
 
66 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 assumption here being that the soul is that which supplies 
 animals with motion. This same assumption led them 
 to regard respiration as the boundary with which life 
 was coterminous. It was, they held, the tendency of 
 the encircling atmosphere to cause contraction in the 
 animal body and to expel those atomic forms, which, 
 from never being at rest themselves, supply animals 
 with movement. This tendency, however, was counter- 
 acted by the reenforcement derived from the entrance 
 from outside in the act of respiration of new atoms of 
 a similar kind. These last in fact — such was their 
 theory — as they united to repel the compressing and 
 solidifying forces prevented those atoms already existing 
 in animals from being expelled from them: and life, they 
 thought, continued so long as there was strength to 
 carry on this process. ^ 
 
 [Democritus held] ^ that the soul {'fvxn) and reason 
 (1/01)9) were the same thing, and that this belonged to 
 the class of primary and indivisible bodies, and had the 
 capacity of motion because of the smallness of its parts 
 and because of its shape. Now the most mobile shape 
 is the spherical, and such is the shape of reason and of 
 fire. 
 
 » Arist. De An. 405 a 8. 
 
VIII 
 THE SOPHISTS 
 
 [440-400 B.C.] t 
 
 TWO SAYINGS OF PROTAGORAS 
 
 Man 1 is a measure of all things, of things that are, 
 that they are; and of things that are not, that they are 
 not. * 
 
 With 2 regard to the gods I know not whether they 
 exist or not, or what they are like. Many things prevent 
 our knowing; the subject is obscure and brief is the span 
 of our mortal life. 
 
 A SAYING OF GORGIAS 
 
 In 3 his work ^'On Nature, or the Non-Existent,'' he 
 (Gorgias) arranges his discussion under three heads: 
 First, nothing exists; second, if anything did exist we 
 could never know it; third, if perchance a man should 
 come to know it, it would remain a secret, he would be 
 unable to describe it to his fellow-men. 
 
 iSext. Emp. Pyrrh. h. I. 216; cf. also Plato, Cratyl. 385 E.; 
 Theat. 151 E. 
 
 2Eus. P. E. XIV. 3, 7; cf. Plato, Thecst. 
 »Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. VII. 67. 
 
 t Protagoras of Abdera flourished 440 B.C.; Gorgias of Leontium 
 about the same time, or possibly a few years later; Prodicus of 
 Ceos about 430. 
 
 67 
 
68 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE CALLING AND PROFESSIONS OF THE SOPHIST 
 
 FROM THE WRITINGS OF PLATO, IN A DISCUSSION CARRIED 
 
 ON BY THE 'ELEATIC STRANGER* AND THE^TETUS 
 
 Eleatic Stranger. — First ^ let us wait a moment and 
 recover breath; and while we are resting we can reckon 
 in how many forms he [the Sophist] has appeared. In 
 the first place, he was discovered to be a paid hunter 
 after wealth and youth. ... In the second place, he 
 was a merchant in the goods of the soul. ... In the 
 third place, he has turned out to be a retailer of the same 
 sort of wares. 
 
 ThecBtetus. — Yes; and in the fourth place, he himself 
 manufactured the learned wares which he sold. 
 
 E. S. — Quite right; I will try and remember the fifth 
 myself. He belonged to the fighting class, and was 
 further distinguished as a debater who professed the 
 eristic art. . . . This point was doubtful; yet we at 
 least agreed that he was a purger of souls, who cleaned 
 away notions obstructive to knowledge. . . . Again, 
 in private conversation when any universal assertion is 
 made about generation and essence, we know that such 
 persons are tremendous argufiers, and are able to impart 
 their own skill to others. ... In a v/ord, is not the 
 art of disputation the power of disputing about all 
 things ? 
 
 Thecct. — Certainly; there does not seem to be much 
 that is left out. 
 
 E. S. — But oh! my dear youth, do you suppose this 
 possible? For perhaps your young eyes may see things 
 which to our duller sight do not appear. 
 
 Thecet. — To what are you alluding? I don't think I 
 understand your present question. 
 
 * From Plato's Sophist, Jowett's translation, beginning p. 231 D. 
 
THE SOPHISTS 69 
 
 E. S. — I asked whether anybody can understand all 
 things. 
 
 ARISTOTLE ON THE SOPHISTS 
 
 Sophistic ^ is nothing but apparent wisdom in no wise 
 real, and the Sophist is only eager to get rich off his 
 apparent wisdom which is not the true. Evidently these 
 fellows seek rather to appear wise than to be wise with- 
 out so appearing. * 
 
 Of ^ men some possess genuine health, others have the 
 
 appearance only and are puffed up and deck themselves 
 
 like victims for the altar. The former are fair in virtue 
 
 of their own beauty; the latter look fair — when they have 
 
 made their toilet. * 
 
 * * 
 
 The ^ Sophist is a speculator in sham wisdom. 
 
 THE SOPHISTS AND THE ATHENIAN YOUTH 
 
 [The following graphic passage from Plato's Protag- 
 oras is given to show the acclaim with which the Sophists 
 were received by the Athenian youth; and also to give 
 Protagoras (through Plato) an opportunity to describe 
 his own profession.] 
 
 Last night, ^ or rather very early this morning, Hippoc- 
 rates, the son of Apollodorus and the brother of Phason, 
 gave a tremendous thump with his staff at my door; 
 some one opened to him, and he came rushing in and 
 bawled out: ''Socrates, are you awake or asleep?'' 
 
 I knew his voice and said: ''Hippocrates, is that you? 
 and do you bring any news?" 
 
 *Anst., Soph, el, J. 1, 165. 
 «Arist., Sop/i. eZ., I. 1, 164. 
 » Arist. Met. III. 2, 1004. 
 
 'From Plato's Protagoras, Jowett's translation, beginning at 
 p. 310 A. 
 
70 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ''Good news/' he said; ''nothing but good." 
 
 "Dehghtful," I said; "but what is the news? and why 
 have you come hither at this unearthly hour?" 
 
 He drew nearer to me and said: "Protagoras is come." 
 
 "Yes," I rephed; "he came two days ago: have you 
 only just heard of his arrival?" 
 
 "Yes, by the gods," he said; "but not until yesterday 
 evening." 
 
 At the same time he felt for the truckle-bed, and sat 
 down at my feet, and then he said: "Yesterday quite 
 late in the evening, on my return from Oenoe whither I 
 had gone in pursuit of my runaway slave Satyrus, as I 
 meant to have told you, if some other matter had not 
 come in the way; — on my return, when we had done 
 supper and were about to retire to rest, my brother said 
 to me: 'Protagoras is come.' I was going to you at once, 
 and then I thought that the night was far spent. But 
 the moment sleep left me after my fatigue, I got up and 
 came hither direct." 
 
 I, who knew the very courageous madness of the man, 
 said : ' 'What is the matter ? Has Protagoras robbed you 
 of anything?" 
 
 He rephed, laughing: "Yes,, indeed he has, Socrates, 
 of the wisdom which he keeps from me." 
 
 "But, surely," I said, "if you give him money, and 
 make friends with him, he will make you as wise as he is 
 himself." 
 
 "Would to heaven," he replied, "that this were the 
 case! He might take all that I have, and all that my 
 friends have, if he pleased. But that is why I have come 
 to you now, in order that you may speak to him on my 
 behalf; for I am young, and also I have never seen nor 
 heard him (when he visited Athens before I was but a 
 
THE SOPHISTS 71 
 
 child); and all men praise him, Socrates; he is reputed 
 to be the most accomphshed of speakers. There is no 
 reason why we should not go to him at once, and then we 
 shall find him at home. He lodges, as I hear, with 
 Callias the son of Hipponicus: let us start." 
 
 I replied: ''Not yet, my good friend; the hour is 
 too early. But let us rise and take a turn in the 
 court and wait about there until daybreak; when the 
 day breaks, then we will go. For Protagoras is gener- 
 ally at home, and we shall be sure to find him; never 
 fear." 
 
 Upon this we got up and walked about in the court, 
 and I thought that I would make trial of the strength 
 of his resolution. So I examined him and put questions 
 to him. 'Tell me, Hippocrates," I said, "as you are going 
 to Protagoras, and will be paying your money to him, 
 what is he to whom you are going? and what will he 
 make of you? ..." 
 
 "They call him a Sophist, Socrates," he replied. 
 
 "Then we are going to pay our money to him in the 
 character of a Sophist?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "But suppose a person were to ask this further 
 question: 'And how about yourself? What will Protag- 
 oras make of you, if you go to see him?' " 
 
 He answered, with a blush upon his face (for the 
 day was just beginning to dawn, so that I could 
 see him): "Unless this differs in some way from the 
 former instances, I suppose that he will make a Sophist 
 of me." 
 
 "By the gods," I said, "and are you not ashamed at 
 having to appear before the Hellenes in the character of 
 a Sophist?" 
 
72 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "Indeed, Socrates, to confess the truth, I am. ..." 
 
 I said: "1 wonder whether you know what you are 
 doing?" 
 
 ''And what am I doing?" 
 
 "You are going to commit your soul to the care of a 
 man whom you call a Sophist. And yet I hardly think 
 that you know what a Sophist is; and if not, then you 
 do not even know to whom you are committing your soul 
 and whether the thing to which you commit yourself be 
 good or evil. . . . 
 
 "If you were going to commit your body to some one, 
 who might do good or harm to it, would you not carefully 
 consider and ask the opinion of your friends and kindred, 
 and deliberate many days as to whether you should give 
 him the care of your body? But when the soul is in 
 question, which you hold to be of far more value than 
 the body, and upon the good or evil of which depends 
 the well-being of your all, — about this you never con- 
 sulted either with your father or with your brother or 
 with any one of us who are your companions. But no 
 sooner does this foreigner appear, than you instantly 
 commit your soul to his keeping. In the evening, as you 
 say, you hear of him, and in the morning you go to him, 
 never deliberating or taking the opinion of any one as to 
 whether you ought to intrust yourself to him or not; — 
 you have quite made up your mind that you will at all 
 hazards be a pupil of Protagoras, and are prepared to 
 expend all the property of yourself and of your friends 
 in carrying out at any price this determination, although, 
 as you admit, you do not know him, and have never 
 spoken with him: and you call him a Sophist, but are 
 manifestly ignorant of what a Sophist is; and yet you 
 are going to commit yourself to his keeping." 
 
THE SOPHISTS 73 
 
 When he heard me say this, he repUed: ''No other 
 inference, Socrates, can be drawn from your words." 
 
 I proceeded: 'Is not a Sophist, Hippocrates, one who 
 deals wholesale and retail in the food of the soul? To 
 me that appears to be his nature." 
 
 "And what, Socrates, is the food of the soul?" 
 
 "Surely," I said, "knowledge is the food of the soul; 
 and we must take care, my friend, that the Sophist does 
 not deceive us when he praises what he sells, like the 
 dealers wholesale or retail, who sell the food of the body; 
 for they praise indiscriminately all their goods, without 
 knowing what are really beneficial or hurtful : neither do 
 their customers know, with the exception of any trainer 
 or physician who may happen to buy of them. In hke 
 manner those who carry about the wares of knowledge, 
 and make the round of the cities, and sell or retail them 
 to any customer who is in want of them, praise them all 
 alike; though I should not wonder, my friend, if many 
 of them were really ignorant of their effect upon the soul; 
 and their customers equally ignorant, unless he who 
 buys of them happens to be a physician of the soul. If, 
 therefore, you have understanding of what is good and 
 evil, you may safely buy knowledge of Protagoras or of 
 any one; but if not, then, my friend, pause, and do not 
 hazard your dearest interests at a game of chance. For 
 there is far greater peril in buying knowledge than in 
 buying meat and drink: the one you purchase of the 
 wholesale or retail dealer, and carry them away in other 
 vessels, and before you receive them into the body as 
 food, you may deposit them at home and call in any 
 experienced friend who knows what is good to be eaten 
 or drunken, and what not, and how much, and when; 
 and then the danger of purchasing them is not so great. 
 
74 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 But you cannot buy the wares of knowledge and carry 
 them away in another vessel; when you have paid for 
 them you receive them into the soul and go your way, 
 either greatly harmed or greatly benefited; and therefore 
 we should deliberate and take counsel with our elders; 
 for we are still young — too young to determine such a 
 matter. And now let us go, as we were intending, and 
 hear Protagoras ; and when we have heard what he has to 
 say, we may take counsel of others; for not only is 
 Protagoras at the house of Callias, but there is Hippias 
 of EHs, and, if I am not mistaken, Prodicus of Ceos, and 
 several other wise men." 
 
 To this we agreed, and proceeded on our way until we 
 reached the vestibule of the house; and there we stopped 
 in order to conclude a discussion which had arisen be- 
 tween us as we were going along; and we stood talking in 
 the vestibule until we had finished and come to an under- 
 standing. And I think that the door-keeper, who was 
 a eunuch, and who was probably annoyed at the great 
 inroad of the Sophists, must have heard us talking. At 
 any rate, when we knocked at the door, and he opened 
 and saw us, he grumbled: 'They are Sophists — he is not 
 at home"; and instantly gave the door a hearty bang 
 with both his hands. Again we knocked, and he an- 
 swered without opening: ''Did you not hear me say that 
 he is not at home, fellows?" 
 
 "But, my friend," I said, "you need not be alarmed; 
 for we are not Sophists, and we are not come to see 
 Callias, but we want to see Protagoras; and I must re- 
 quest you to announce us." At last, after a good deal 
 of difficulty, the man was persuaded to open the door. 
 
 When we entered, we found Protagoras taking a walk 
 in the cloister; and next to him, on one side, were walking 
 
THE SOPHISTS 75 
 
 Callias, the son of Hipponicus, and Paralus, the son of 
 Pericles, who, by the mother's side, is his half-brother, 
 and Charmides, the son of Glaucon. On the other side 
 of him were Xanthippus, the other son of Pericles, 
 Philippides, the son of Philomelas; also Antimoerus of 
 Mende, who of all the disciples of Protagoras is the most 
 famous, and intends to make sophistry his profession. 
 A train of listeners followed him; the greater part of 
 them appeared to be foreigners, whom Protagoras had 
 brought with him out of the various cities visited by 
 him in his journeys, he, like Orpheus, attracting them 
 by his voice, and they following. I should mention 
 also that there were some Athenians in the company. 
 Nothing delighted me more than the precision of their 
 movements: they never got into his way at all; but when 
 he and those who were with him turned back, then the 
 band of listeners parted regularly on either side; he was 
 always in front, and they wheeled round and took their 
 places behind him in perfect order. 
 
 After him, as Homer says, 'I hfted up my eyes and 
 saw' Hippias the Elean sitting in the opposite cloister 
 on a chair of state, and around him were seated on 
 benches Eryximachus, the son of Acumenus, and Phsedrus 
 the Myrrhinusian, and Andron the son of Androtion, and 
 there were strangers whom he had brought with him from 
 his native city of Elis, and some others : they were putting 
 to Hippias certain physical and astronomical questions, 
 and he, ex cathedra, was determining their several ques- 
 tions to them, and discoursing of them. 
 
 Also, 'my eyes beheld Tantalus'; for Prodicus the 
 Cean was at Athens : he had been lodged in a room which, 
 in the days of Hipponicus, was a storehouse ; but, as the 
 house was full, Callias had cleared this out and made 
 
76 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 the room into a guest-chamber. Now Prodicus was 
 still in bed, wrapped up in sheepskins and bedclothes, 
 of which there seemed to be a great heap. ... I was 
 very anxious to hear what Prodicus was saying, for he 
 seems to me to be an all-wise and inspired man; but I 
 was not able to get into the inner circle, and his fine deep 
 voice made an echo in the room which rendered his 
 words inaudible. . . . 
 
 On entering we stopped a little, in order to look about 
 us, and then walked up to Protagoras, and I said: 
 "Protagoras, my friend Hippocrates and I have come 
 to see you." 
 
 "Do you wish," he said, "to speak with me alone, or 
 in the presence of the company?" 
 
 "Whichever you please," I said; "you shall determine 
 when you have heard the purpose of our visit. ..." 
 
 As I suspected that he would Hke to have a little 
 display and glorification in the presence of Prodicus and 
 Hippias, and would gladly show us to them in the light 
 of his admirers, I said: "But why should we not simimon 
 Prodicus and Hippias and their friends to hear us?" 
 
 "Very good," he said. 
 
 "Suppose," said Callias, "that we hold a council in 
 which you may sit and discuss." This was agreed upon, 
 and great delight was felt at the prospect of hearing wise 
 men talk ; we ourselves took the chairs and benches, and 
 arranged them by Hippias, where the other benches had 
 been already placed. Meanwhile Callias and Alcibiades 
 got Prodicus out of bed and brought in him and his 
 companions. 
 
 When we were all seated, Protagoras said: "Now that 
 the company are assembled, Socrates, tell me about the 
 young man of whom you were just now speaking." 
 
THE SOPHISTS 77 
 
 I replied: ". . . This is my friend Hippocrates, who 
 is desirous of making your acquaintance; he would like 
 to know what will happen to him if he associates with 
 you. I have no more to say." 
 
 Protagoras answered: ''Young man, if you associate 
 with me, on the very first day you will return home a 
 better man than you came, and better on the second day 
 than on the first, and better every day than you were 
 on the day before." 
 
 When I heard this, I said: ''. . . When you say that 
 on the first day on which he associates with you he will 
 return home a better man, and on every day will grow 
 in like manner, — in what, Protagoras, will he be better? 
 and about what?" 
 
 When Protagoras heard me say this, he repHed: ''You 
 ask questions fairly, and I like to answer a question which 
 is fairly put. If Hippocrates comes to me he will not 
 experience the sort of drudgery with which other 
 Sophists are in the habit of insulting their pupils; who, 
 when they have just escaped from the arts, are taken and 
 driven back into them by these teachers, and made to 
 learn calculation, and astronomy and geometry, and 
 music" (he gave a look at Hippias as he said this) ; "but 
 if he comes to me, he will learn that which he comes to 
 learn. And this is prudence in affairs private as well 
 as public ; he will learn to order his own house in the best 
 manner, and he will be able to speak and act for the best 
 in the affairs of the state." 
 
 "Do I understand you," I said; "and is your meaning 
 that you teach the art of politics, and that you promise 
 to make men good citizens?" 
 
 "That, Socrates, is exactly the profession which I 
 make." 
 
78 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "Then/' I said, ''you do indeed possess a noble art, 
 if there is no mistake about this; for I will freely confess 
 to you, Protagoras, that I have a doubt whether this 
 art is capable of being taught, and yet I know not how 
 to disbeUeve your assertion. ..." 
 
 THE PROTAGOREAN DOCTRINE OF RELATIVITY AS PLATO INTERPRETS 
 IT IN THE THE^TETUS 
 
 [The question that has been raised is : What is knowl- 
 edge? Thesetetus has hazarded the opinion that 
 "Knowledge is sense-perception," whereupon Socrates 
 proceeds as follows :] 
 
 Socrates. — Well,^ you have delivered yourself of a 
 very important doctrine about knowledge; it is indeed 
 the opinion of Protagoras, who has another way of 
 expressing it. Man, he says, is the measure of all 
 things, of the existence of things that are, and of the 
 non-existence of things that are not: — You have read 
 him? 
 
 Thecetetus. — Oh, yes, again and again. 
 
 Soc. — Does he not say that things are to you such as 
 they appear to you, and to me such as they appear to 
 me, and that you and I are men? 
 
 ThecBt. — Yes, he says so. 
 
 Soc. — A wise man is not likely to talk nonsense. Let 
 us try to understand him : the same wind is blowing, and 
 yet one of us may be cold and the other not, or one may 
 be slightly and the other very cold? 
 
 Thecet. — Quite true. 
 
 Soc. — Now is the wind, regarded not in relation to us, 
 but absolutely, cold or not; or are we to say, with 
 
 •From Plato's Thecetetus, beginning on p. 151 E., Jowett's trans- 
 lation. 
 
THE SOPHISTS 79 
 
 Protagoras, that the wind is cold to him who is cold, and 
 not to him who is not? 
 
 Thecet. — I suppose the last. 
 
 Soc. — Then it must appear so to each of them? 
 
 Thecet.— Yes. 
 
 Soc. — And ^appears to him' means the same as 'he 
 perceives.' 
 
 Theoot.— True. 
 
 Soc. — Then, appearing and perceiving coincide in the 
 case of hot and cold, and in similar instances; for things 
 appear, or may be supposed to be, to each one such as he 
 perceives them? 
 
 ThecEt.—Yes. 
 
 Soc. — Then perception is always of existence, and being 
 the same as knowledge is unerring? 
 
 Thecet— CleSiTly. 
 
 Soc. — In the name of the Graces, what an almighty 
 wise man Protagoras must have been! He spoke these 
 things in a parable to the common herd, like you and 
 me, but told the truth, ' his Truth,' in secret to his own 
 disciples. 
 
 Thecet. — What do you mean, Socrates? 
 
 Soc. — I am about to speak of a high argument, in 
 which all things are said to be relative; you cannot 
 rightly call anything by any name, such as great or 
 small, heavy or light, for the great will be small and 
 the heavy light — there is no single thing or quality, but 
 out of motion and change and admixture all things are 
 becoming relatively to one another, which 'becoming' 
 is by us incorrectly called being, but is really becoming, 
 for nothing ever is, but all things are becoming. Sum- 
 mon all philosophers — Protagoras, Heracleitus, Em- 
 pedocles, and the rest of them, one after another, and 
 
80 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 with the exception of Parmenides they will agree with 
 you in this. Summon the great masters of either kind 
 of poetry — Epicharmus, the prince of Comedy, and 
 Homer of Tragedy; when the latter sings of 
 
 [ Ocean whence sprang the gods, and mother Tethys/ 
 
 does he not mean that all things are the offspring of 
 flux and motion? Then now apply his doctrine to 
 perception, my good friend, and first of all to vision; 
 that which you call white color is not in your eyes, and 
 is not a distinct thing which exists out of them. And 
 you must not assign any place to it : for if it had position 
 it would be, and be at rest, and there would be no process 
 of becoming. 
 
 ThecBt. — Then what is color? 
 
 Soc. — Let us carry out the principle which has just 
 been affirmed, that nothing is self-existent, and then 
 we shall see that white, black, and every other color, 
 arises out of the eye meeting the appropriate motion, 
 and that what we call a color is in each case neither the 
 active nor the passive element, but something which 
 passes between them, and is peculiar to each percipient; 
 are you quite certain that the several colors appear to a 
 dog or to any animal whatever as they appear to you? 
 
 TheoBt. — Far from it. 
 
 Soc. — Or that anything appears the same to you as to 
 another man? Are you so profoundly convinced of 
 this? Rather would it not be true that it never appears 
 exactly the same to you, because you are never exactly 
 the same? 
 
 Thecet.—The latter. 
 
 Soc. — And if that with which I compare myself in 
 size, or which I apprehend by touch, were great or 
 
THE SOPHISTS 81 
 
 white or hot, it could not become different by mere 
 contact with another unless it actually changed; nor 
 again, if the comparing or apprehending subject were 
 great or white or hot, could this, when unchanged from 
 within, become changed by any approximation or affec- 
 tion of any other thing. The fact is that in our ordinary 
 way of speaking we allow ourselves to be driven into 
 most ridiculous and wonderful contradictions, as Protag- 
 oras and all who take his line of argument would remark. 
 ... I am charmed with his doctrine, that what appears 
 is to each one, but I wonder that he did not begin his 
 book on Truth with a declaration that a pig or a dog- 
 faced baboon, or some other yet stranger monster which 
 has sensation, is the measure of all things; then he might 
 have shown a magnificent contempt for our opinion of 
 him by informing us at the outset that while we were 
 reverencing him like a God for his wisdom he was no 
 better than a tadpole, not to speak of his fellow-men — 
 would not this have produced an overpowering effect? 
 For if truth is only sensation, and no man can discern 
 another's feeHngs better than he, or has any superior 
 right to determine whether his opinion is true or false, 
 but each, as we have several times repeated, is to himself 
 the sole judge, and everything that he judges is true and 
 right, why, my friend, should Protagoras be preferred 
 to the place of wisdom and instruction, and deserve to 
 be well paid, and we poor ignoramuses have to go to 
 him, if each one is the measure of his own wisdom? 
 Must he not be talking 'ad captandum' in all this? I 
 say nothing of the ridiculous predicament in which my 
 own midwifery and the whole art of dialectic is placed; 
 for the attempt to supervise or refute the notions or 
 opinions of others would be a tedious and enormous piece 
 
 clSLllt 
 
82 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 of folly, if to each man his own are right; and this must 
 be the case if Protagoras's Truth is the real truth, and 
 the philosopher is not merely amusing himself by giving 
 oracles out of the shrine of his book. . . . 
 
 Well, you ask, and how will Protagoras reenforce his 
 position ? Shall I answer for him ? 
 
 Thecct. — By all means. 
 
 Soc. — . . . Oh, my good sir, he will say, Come to 
 the argument in a more generous spirit; and either show, 
 if you can, that our sensations are not relative and 
 individual, or, if you admit them to be so, prove that 
 this does not involve the consequence that the ap- 
 pearance becomes, or, if you will have the word, is, to 
 the individual only. As to your talk about pigs and 
 baboons, you are yourself behaving like a pig, and you 
 teach your hearers to make sport of my writings in the 
 same ignorant manner; but this is not to your credit. 
 For I declare that the truth is as I have written, and 
 that each of us is a measure of existence and of non- 
 existence. Yet one man may be a thousand times 
 better than another in proportion as different things are 
 and appear to him. And I am far from saying that 
 wisdom and the wise man have no existence; but I say 
 that the wise man is he who makes the evils which appear 
 and are to a man, into goods which are and appear to 
 him. And I would beg you not to press my words in 
 the letter, but to take the meaning of them as I will 
 explain them. Remember what has been already said — 
 that to the sick man his food appears to be and is bitter, 
 and to the man in health the opposite of bitter. Now 
 I cannot conceive that one of these men can be or ought 
 to be made wiser than the other; nor can you assert 
 that the sick man because he has one impression is 
 
 r 
 
THE SOPHISTS 83 
 
 foolish, and the healthy man because he has another is 
 wise; but the one state requires to be changed into the 
 other, the worse into the better. As in education, a 
 change of state has to be effected, and the Sophist ac- 
 complishes by words the change which the physician 
 works by the aid of drugs. Not that any one ever made 
 another think truly, who previously thought falsely. 
 For no one can think what is not, or think anything 
 different from that which he feels; and this is always 
 true. But as the inferior habit of mind has thoughts of 
 a kindred nature, so I conceive that a good mind causes 
 men to have good thoughts; and these which the in- 
 experienced call true, I maintain to be only better, and 
 not truer than others. And, my dear Socrates, I do 
 not call wise men tadpoles: far from it; I say that they 
 are the physicians of the human body, and the husband- 
 men of plants — for the husbandmen also take away the 
 evil and disordered sensations of plants, and infuse into 
 them good and healthy sensations — aye, and true ones; 
 and the wise and good rhetoricians make the good 
 instead of the evil to seem just to states; for whatever 
 appears to a state to be just and fair, so long as it is 
 regarded as such, is just and fair to it; but the teacher 
 of wisdom causes the good to take the place of the evil, 
 both in appearance and in reality. And in like manner 
 the Sophist who is able to train his pupils in this spirit 
 is a wise man, and deserves to be well paid by them. 
 And so one man is wiser than another; and no one thinks 
 falsely, and you, whether you will or not, must endure 
 to be a measure. On these foundations the argimient 
 stands firm, which you, Socrates, may, if you please, 
 overthrow by an opposite argument, or if you like you 
 may put questions to me — a method to which no in- 
 
84 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 telligent person will object, quite the reverse. But I 
 must beg you to put fair questions: for there is great 
 inconsistency in saying that you have a zeal for virtue, 
 and then always behaving unfairly in argument. The 
 unfairness of which I complain is that you do not dis- 
 tinguish between mere disputation and dialectic: the 
 disputer may trip up his opponent as often as he likes, 
 and make fun; but the dialectician will be in earnest, 
 and only correct his adversary when necessary, telling 
 him the errors into which he has fallen through his own 
 fault, or that of the company which he has previously 
 kept. If you do so, your adversary will lay the blame 
 of his own confusion and perplexity on himself, and not 
 on you. He will follow and love you, and will hate him- 
 self, and escape from himself into philosophy, in order 
 that he may become different from what he was. But 
 the other mode of arguing, which is practised by the 
 many, will have just the opposite effect upon him; and 
 as he grows older, instead of turning philosopher, he will 
 come to hate philosophy. I would recommend you, 
 therefore, as I said before, not to encourage yourself in 
 this polemical and controversial temper, but to find 
 out, in a friendly and congenial spirit, what we really 
 mean when we say that all things are in motion, and that 
 to every individual and state what appears, is. In 
 this manner you will consider whether knowledge and 
 sensation are the same or different, but you will not 
 argue, as you were just now doing, from the customary 
 use of names and words, which the vulgar pervert in all 
 sorts of ways, causing infinite perplexity to one another. 
 Such, Theodorus, is the very slight help which I am able 
 to offer to your old friend; had he been living, he would 
 have helped himself in a far more gloriose style. 
 
THE SOPHISTS 85 
 
 Plato's account of gorgias as a rhetorician 
 
 Meno/^ there was a time when the Thessalians were 
 famous among the other Hellenes only for their riches 
 and their riding; but now, if I am not mistaken, they are 
 equally famous for their wisdom, especially at Larissa, 
 which is the native city of your friend Aristippus. And 
 this is Gorgias's doing; for when he came there, the 
 flower of the Aleuadse, among them your admirer Aris- 
 tippus, and the other chiefs of the Thessalians, fell in love 
 with his wisdom. And he has taught you the habit of 
 answering questions in a grand and bold style, which be- 
 comes those who know, and is the style in which he him- 
 self answers all comers; and any Hellene who likes may 
 ask him anything. ^*^ 
 
 Cheer ephon. — Tell ^^ me, Gorgias, is our friend Callicles 
 right in saying that you undertake to answer any 
 questions which you are asked? 
 
 Gorgias. — Quite right, Chserephon: I was saying as 
 much only just now; and I may add, that many years 
 have elapsed since any one has asked me a new one. . . . 
 
 Socrates. — Gorgias, . . . what are we to call you, 
 and what is the art which you profess? 
 
 Gor. — Rhetoric, Socrates, is my art. 
 
 Soc. — Then I am to call you a rhetorician? 
 
 Gor. — Yes, Socrates, and a good one too, if you would 
 call me that which, in Homeric language, 'T boast 
 myself to be." . . . 
 
 Soc— {And] rhetoric, as would appear, is the artificer 
 of a persuasion which creates belief about the just and 
 unjust, but gives no instruction about them? 
 
 Gor. — True. 
 "From the Meno of Plato, p. 70 D., Jowett's translation. 
 " From the Gorgias of Plato, p. 447 E., Jowett's translation. 
 
IX 
 
 SOCRATES 
 
 [469-399 B.C.] 
 
 ARISTOTLE ON SOCRATES's ACHIEVEMENT 
 
 There ^ are two things that one would rightly at- 
 tribute to Socrates: inductive reasoning and universal 
 definition. And in fact these two things are the very- 
 foundations of knowledge. But Socrates did not give 
 his universals, or his definitions, separate existence. 
 Others, however, did, and called such reals 'ideas.' 
 
 XENOPHON's tribute to SOCRATES t 
 
 It 2 seems wonderful to me, that any should have been 
 persuaded that Socrates corrupted the youth; Socrates, 
 who, in addition to wha.t has been said of him, was not 
 only the most rigid of all men in the government of his 
 passions and appetites, but also most able to withstand 
 cold, heat, and every kind of labor; and, besides, so 
 inured to frugality, that, though he possessed very little, 
 he very easily made it a sufficiency. How, then, being 
 of such a character himself, could he have rendered 
 others impious, or lawless, or luxurious, or incontinent, 
 or too effeminate to endure labor? On the contrary, he 
 restrained many of them from such vices, leading them 
 
 1 Arist. Met. 12, 4, 1078 b. 
 
 ' Xenophon's Memorabilia, I. 2, 1. 
 
 t The passages from Xenophon's Memorabilia are given in Wat- 
 son's translation 
 
 86 
 
SOCRATES 87 
 
 to love virtue, and giving them hopes, that if they 
 would take care of themselves, they would become 
 honorable and worthy characters. Not indeed that he 
 ever professed to be an instructor in that way, but, by 
 showing that he was himself such a character, he made 
 those in his society hope that, by imitating him, they 
 would become such as he was. 
 
 Of the body he was not neglectful, nor did he com- 
 mend those who were. He did not approve that a 
 person should eat to excess, and then use immoderate 
 exercise, but recommended that he should work off, by 
 a proper degree of exercise, as much as the appetite 
 received with pleasure; for such a habit, he said, was 
 peculiarly conducive to health, and did not prevent 
 attention to the mind. He was not, however, fine or 
 ostentatious in his clothes or sandals, or in any of his 
 habits of life; yet he did not make those about him lovers 
 of money, for he checked them in this as well as other 
 passions, and asked no remuneration from those who 
 desired his company. By refraining from such demand, 
 he thought that he consulted his liberty, and called those 
 who took money for their discourses their own enslavers, 
 since they must of necessity hold discussions with those 
 from whom they received pay. . . . 
 
 How then could a man of such a character corrupt 
 the young, unless, indeed, the study of virtue be cor- 
 ruption? # 
 
 [Socrates] ^ disciplined his mind and body by sucn a 
 course of life, that he who should adopt a similar one, 
 would, if no supernatural influence prevented, live in 
 good spirits and uninterrupted health, nor would he ever 
 
 • Xenophon's Memorabilia, I. 3, 5. 
 
88 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 be in want of the necessary expenses for it. So frugal 
 was he that I do not know whether any one could earn 
 so little by the labor of his hands, as not to procure 
 sufficient to have satisfied Socrates. He took only so 
 much food as he could eat with a keen relish; and, to 
 this end, he came to his meals so disposed that the 
 appetite for his meat was the sauce to it. Every kind 
 of drink was agreeable to him, because he never drank 
 unless he was thirsty. If he ever complied with an 
 invitation to go to a feast, he very easily guarded, what 
 is extremely difficult to most men, against loading his 
 stomach to excess. Those who were unable to do so, he 
 advised to be cautious of taking anything that would 
 stimulate them to eat when they were not hungry, and 
 to drink when they were not thirsty; for he said that 
 those were the things that disordered the stomach, the 
 head, and the mind; and he used to say, in jest, that he 
 thought Circe transformed men into swine, by enter- 
 taining them with abundance of such luxuries, but that 
 Ulysses, through the admonition of Mercury and through 
 being himself temperate, and forbearing to partake of 
 such delicacies to excess, was in consequence not changed 
 into a swine. * 
 
 Concerning ^ justice, too, he did not conceal what 
 sentiments he entertained, but made them manifest 
 even by his actions, for he conducted himself, in his 
 private capacity, justly and beneficently towards all 
 men, and, as a citizen, he obeyed the magistrates in all 
 that the laws enjoined, both in the city and on military 
 expeditions, so that he was distinguished above other 
 men for his observance of order. When he was president 
 
 » Xenophon's Memorabilia, IV. 4, 1. 
 
SOCRATES 89 
 
 in the public assembly, he would not permit the people 
 to give a vote contrary to law, but opposed himself, in 
 the defence of the laws, to such a storm of rage on the 
 part of the populace as I think that no other man could 
 have withstood. When the Thirty Tyrants commanded 
 him to do anything contrary to the laws, he refused to 
 obey them; for both when they forbade him to converse 
 with the young, and when they ordered him, and some 
 others of the citizens, to lead a certain person away to 
 death, he alone did not obey, because the order was 
 given contrary to the laws. When he was accused by 
 Meletus, and others were accustomed, before the tribunal, 
 to speak so as to gain the favor of the judges, and to 
 flatter them, and to suppHcate them, in violation of 
 the laws, and many persons, by such practices, had 
 often been acquitted by the judges, he refused, on his 
 trial, to comply with any practices opposed to the laws, 
 and though he might easily have been acquitted by his 
 judges, if he had but in a slight degree adopted any of 
 these customs, he chose rather to die abiding by the 
 laws than to save his life by transgressing them. 
 
 To me, therefore, Socrates, being a man of such a 
 character, appeared to be worthy of honor rather than 
 of death; and any one, considering his case according to 
 the laws, would find such to be the fact ; for, by the laws, 
 death is the punishment for a man if he be found steaHng, 
 or stripping people of their clothes, or cutting purses, 
 or house-breaking, or kidnapping, or sacrilege, of which 
 crimes Socrates was the most innocent of all men. Nor 
 was he ever the cause of any war ending unfortunately 
 for the state, or of any sedition or treachery ; nor did he 
 ever, in his private transactions, either deprive any 
 man of what was for his good, or involve him in an} 
 
90 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 evil; nor did he ever lie under suspicion of any of the 
 
 crimes which I have mentioned. 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 How ^ then could he have been guilty of the charges 
 brought against him? a man who, instead of not ac- 
 knowledging the gods, as was stated in the indictment, 
 evidently paid respect to the gods more than other 
 men; and instead of corrupting the youth, as the accuser 
 laid to his charge, plainly led such of his associates as had 
 vicious inclinations to cease from indulging them, and 
 exhorted them to cherish a love of that most honorable 
 and excellent virtue, by which men successfully govern 
 states and families. How then, pursuing such a course 
 of conduct, was he not deserving of great honor from 
 the city? 
 
 THE SORT OF QUESTIONS SOCRATES WAS CONCERNED WITH 
 
 He ^ did not dispute about the nature of things as 
 most other philosophers disputed, speculating how that 
 which is called by the Sophists the world was produced, 
 and by what necessary laws everything in the heavens is 
 effected, but endeavored to show that those who chose 
 such objects of contemplation were foolish; and used in 
 the first place to inquire of them whether they thought 
 that they already knew sufficient of human affairs, and 
 therefore proceeded to such subjects of meditation, or 
 whether, when they neglected human affairs entirely, 
 and speculated on celestial matters, they thought that 
 they were doing what became them. He wondered, 
 too, that it was not apparent to them that it is impossible 
 for man to satisfy himself on such points, since even those 
 who pride themselves most on discussing them, do not 
 
 » Xenophon's Memorabilia, I. 2, 6^. « lb., I. 1, IC. 
 
SOCRATES 91 
 
 hold the same opinions one with another, but are, com- 
 pared with each other, Hke madmen. . . . 
 
 * * 
 He '^ would ask, also, concerning such philosophers, 
 
 whether, as those who have learned arts practised by 
 men expect that they will be able to carry into effect 
 what they have learned, either for themselves, or for 
 any one else whom they may wish, so those who inquire 
 into celestial things imagine that, when they have 
 discovered by what laws everything is effected, they 
 will be able to produce, whenever they please, wind, 
 rain, changes of the seasons, and whatever else of that 
 sort they may desire, or whether they have no such 
 expectation, but are content merely to know how every- 
 thing of that nature is generated. Such were the ob- 
 servations which he made about those who busied 
 themselves in such speculations; but for himself, he 
 would hold discourse, from time to time, on what con- 
 cerned mankind, considering what was pious, what 
 impious; what was becoming, what unbecoming; what 
 was just, what unjust; what was sanity, what insanity; 
 what was fortitude, what cowardice; what a state was, 
 and what the character of a statesman; what was the 
 nature of government over men, and the qualities of one 
 skilled in governing them; and touching on other sub- 
 jects, with which he thought that those who were ac- 
 quainted were men of worth and estimation, but that 
 those who were ignorant of them might justly be deemed 
 no better than slaves. 
 
 SOCRATES ON THE GOOD AND THE BEAUTIFUL 
 
 When ^ Aristippus attempted to confute Socrates, as 
 he himself had previously been confuted by him, Socrates, 
 
 7 Xenophon's Memorabilia I. 1, 15. » lb., III. 8, 1 
 
92 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 wishing to benefit those who were with him, gave his 
 answers, not Hke those who are on their guard lest their 
 words be perverted, but like those who are persuaded 
 that they ought above all things to do what is right. 
 What Aristippus had asked him was, ^ whether he knew 
 anything good,' in order that if he should say any such 
 thing as food, or drink, or money, or health, or strength, 
 or courage, he might prove that it was sometimes an 
 evil. But Socrates, reflecting that if anything troubles 
 us we want something to reUeve us from it, replied, as it 
 seemed best to do, ''Do you ask me whether I know 
 anything good for a fever?" ''I do not." "Anything 
 good for soreness of the eyes?" ''No." "For hunger?" 
 "No, nor for hunger either." "Well, then," concluded 
 Socrates, "if you ask me whether I know anything good 
 that is good for nothing, I neither know anything, nor 
 wish to know." 
 
 Aristippus again asking him if he knew anything 
 beautiful, he replied, "Many things." "Are they then," 
 inquired Aristippus, "all like each other?" "Some of 
 them," answered Socrates, "are as unlike one another 
 as it is possible for them to be." "How then," said he, 
 "can what is beautiful be unlike what is beautiful?" 
 "Because, assuredly," replied Socrates, "one man, who 
 is beautifully formed for wrestling, is unlike another 
 who is beautifully formed for running ; and a shield, which 
 is beautifully formed for defence, is as unlike as possible 
 to a dart, which is beautifully formed for being forcibly 
 and swiftly hurled . " ' 'You answer me, ' ' said Aristippus, 
 "in the same manner as when I asked you whether you 
 knew anything good." "And do you imagine," said 
 Socrates, "that the good is one thing, and the beautiful 
 another? Do you not know that with reference to the 
 
SOCRATES 93 
 
 same objects all things are both beautiful and good? 
 Virtue, for instance, is not good with regard to some 
 things and beautiful with regard to others; and persons, 
 in the same way, are called beautiful and good with 
 reference to the same objects; and human bodies, too, 
 with reference to the same objects, appear beautiful and 
 good; and in like manner all othei things, whatever men 
 use, are considered beautiful and good with reference to 
 the objects for which they are serviceable." 
 
 * * 
 
 When 9 some one asked him what object of study he 
 thought best for a man, he replied, ''Good conduct." 
 When he asked him again whether he thought ''good 
 fortune" an object of study, he answered, " 'Fortune' 
 and 'Conduct' I think entirely opposed; for, for a person 
 to light on anything that he wants without seeking it, 
 I consider to be 'good fortune,' but to achieve anything 
 successfully by learning and study, I regard as 'good 
 conduct'; and those who make this their object of study 
 appear to me to do well." 
 
 The best men, and those most beloved by the gods, 
 he observed, were those who, in agriculture, performed 
 their agricultural duties well, those who, in medicine, 
 performed their medical duties well, and those who, in 
 political offices, performed their public duties well; 
 but he who did nothing well, he said, was neither useful 
 for any purpose, nor acceptable to the gods. 
 
 *** 
 
 "But 1® as to wisdom, Socrates, it is indisputably a good 
 thing; for what business will not one who is wise conduct 
 better than one who is untaught?" "Have you not 
 heard, then, of Daedalus," said Socrates, "how he was 
 
 »Xenophon's Memorabilia, III. 9, 14. i" lb., IV. 2, 33. 
 
94 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 made prisoner by Minos and compelled to serve him as 
 a slave; how he was cut off, at once, from his country 
 and from liberty, and how, when he endeavored to escape 
 with his son, he lost the child, and was unable to save 
 himself, but was carried away among barbarians, and 
 made a second time a slave?" ''Such a story is told, 
 indeed," said Euthydemus. ''Have you not heard, too, 
 of the sufferings of Palamedes? for everybody says that 
 it was for his wisdom he was envied and put to death 
 by Ulysses." 'That, too, is said," replied Euthydemus. 
 ''And how many other men do you think have been 
 carried off to the king on account of their wisdom, and 
 made slaves there?" 
 
 "But as to happiness, Socrates," said Euthydemus, 
 "that at least appears to be an indisputable good." 
 "Yes, Euthydemus," replied Socrates, "if we make it 
 consist in things that are indisputably good." "But 
 what," said he, "among things constituting happiness 
 can be a doubtful good?" "Nothing," answered Soc- 
 rates, "unless we join with it beauty, or strength, or 
 wealth, or glory, or any other such thing." "But we 
 must assuredly join them with it," said Euthydemus; 
 "for how can a person be happy without them?" "We 
 shall then join with it, by Jupiter," said Socrates, 
 "things from which many grievous calamities happen to 
 mankind; for many, on account of their beauty, are 
 ruined by those who are maddened with passion for 
 their youthful attractions; many, through confidence in 
 their strength, have entered upon undertakings too 
 great for it, and involved themselves in no small disasters ; 
 many, in consequence of their wealth, have become 
 enervated, been plotted against, and destroyed; and 
 many, from the glory and power that they have acquired 
 
 I 
 
SOCRATES 95 
 
 in their country, have suffered the greatest calamities.'^ 
 ''Well, then," said Euthydemus, ''if I do not say what 
 is right when I praise happiness, I confess that I do not 
 know what we ought to pray for to the gods." 
 
 *** 
 You, 11 Antipho, seem to think that happiness consists 
 
 in luxury and extravagance; but I think that to want 
 nothing is to resemble the gods, and that to want as little 
 as possible is to make the nearest approach to the gods; 
 that the Divine nature is perfection, and that to be near- 
 est to the Divine nature is to be nearest to perfection. 
 
 SOCRATES'S METHOD 
 
 And 12 he observed that the expression ScaXeyeaOai, 
 
 "to reason," had its origin in people's practice of meeting 
 
 together to reason on matters, and distinguishing them, 
 
 BcaXiyovre';, according to their several kinds. It was 
 
 the duty of every one, therefore, he thought, to make 
 
 himself ready in this art, and to study it with the greatest 
 
 diligence; for that men, by the aid of it, became most 
 
 accomplished, most able to guide others, and most acute 
 
 in discussion. • * 
 
 * * 
 
 Whenever i^ any person contradicted him on any point 
 who had nothing definite to say, and who perhaps as- 
 serted, without proof, that some person, whom he 
 mentioned, was wiser, or better skilled in political affairs, 
 or possessed of greater courage, or worthier in some such 
 respect [than some other whom Socrates had mentioned], 
 he would recall the whole argument, in some such way 
 as the following, to the primary proposition: "Do you 
 say that he whom you commend, is a better citizen than 
 
 "Xenophon's Memorabilia, I. 6, 10. 
 " lb., IV. 5, 12. 
 "lb., IV. 7, 13. 
 
96 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 he whom I commend?" ''I do say so." 'Why should 
 we not then consider, in the first place, what is the duty 
 of a good citizen?^' ''Let us do so." "Would not he 
 then be superior in the management of the public money 
 who should make the state richer?" "Undoubtedly." 
 "And he in war who should make it victorious over its 
 enemies?" "Assuredly." "And in an embassy he who 
 should make friends of foes?" "Doubtless." "And 
 he in addressing the people who should check dissension 
 and inspire them with unanimity?" "I think so." 
 When the discussion was thus brought back to funda- 
 mental principles, the truth was made evident to those 
 who had opposed him. 
 
 When he himself went through any subject in argu- 
 ment, he proceeded upon propositions of which the 
 truth was generally acknowledged, thinking that a sure 
 foundation was thus formed for his reasoning. Ac- 
 cordingly, whenever he spoke, he, of all men that I have 
 known, most readily prevailed on his hearers to assent 
 to his arguments; and he used to say that Homer had 
 attributed to Ulysses the character of a sure orator, as 
 being able to form his reasoning on points acknowledged 
 by all mankind. 
 
 A BIT OF SOCRATES'S BIOGRAPHY REPORTED BY PLATO 
 
 [From Plato's Phoedo. Socrates himself speaks :] 
 When 14 I was young, Cebes, I had a prodigious 
 desire to know that department of philosophy which is 
 called the investigation of nature; to know the causes 
 of things, and why a thing is and is created or destroyed 
 appeared to me to be a lofty profession ; and I was always 
 agitating myself with the consideration of questions such 
 " Plato, Phcedo, beginning p. 96 A, Jowett's translation. 
 
SOCRATES 97 
 
 as these: — Is the growth of animals the result of some 
 decay which the hot and cold principle contracts, as 
 some have said? Is the blood the element with which 
 we think, or the air, or the fire? or perhaps nothing of the 
 kind — but the brain may be the originating power of the 
 perceptions of hearing and sight and smell, and memory 
 and opinion may come from them, and science may be 
 based on memory and opinion when they have attained 
 fixity. And then I went on to examine the corruption 
 of them, and then to the things of heaven and earth, 
 and at last I concluded myself to be utterly and ab- 
 solutely incapable of these inquiries, as I will satis- 
 factorily prove to you. For I was fascinated by them 
 to such a degree that my eyes grew blind to things which 
 I had seemed to myself, and also to others, to know quite 
 well; I forgot what I had before thought self-evident 
 truths; e. g., such a fact as that the growth of man is the 
 result of eating and drinking; for when by the digestion 
 of food flesh is added to flesh and bone to bone, and 
 whenever there is an aggregation of congenial elements, 
 the lesser bulk becomes larger and the small man great. 
 ... I am not any longer satisfied that I understand 
 the reason why one or anything else is either generated 
 or destroyed or is at all, but I have in my mind some 
 confused notion of a new method, and can never admit 
 the other. 
 
 Then I heard some one reading, as he said, from a book 
 of Anaxagoras, that mind was the disposer and cause of 
 all, and I was delighted at this notion, which appeared 
 quite admirable, and I said to myself: If mind is the 
 disposer, mind wlil dispose all for the best, and put each 
 particular in the best place ; and I argued that if any one 
 desired to find out the cause of the generation or de- 
 
98 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 struction or existence of anything, he must find what 
 state of being or doing or suffering was best for that 
 thing, and therefore a man had only to consider the best 
 for himself and others and then he would also know the 
 worse, since the same science comprehended both. And 
 I rejoiced to think that I had found in Anaxagoras a 
 teacher of the causes of existence such as I desired, and 
 I imagined that he would tell me first whether the earth 
 is flat or round; and whichever was true, he would pro- 
 ceed to explain the cause and the necessity of this being 
 so, and then he would teach me the nature of the best 
 and show that this was best; and if he said that the earth 
 was in the centre, he would further explain that this 
 position was the best, and I should be satisfied with the 
 explanation given, and not want any other sort of cause. 
 And I thought that I would then go on and ask him 
 about the sun and moon and stars, and that he would 
 explain to me their comparative swiftness, and their 
 returnings and various states, active and passive, and 
 how all of them were for the best. For I could not 
 imagine that when he spoke of mind as the disposer of 
 them, he would give any other account of their being as 
 they are, except that this was best; and I thought that 
 when he had explained to me in detail the cause of each 
 and the cause of all, he would go on to explain to me 
 what was best for each and what was good for all. These 
 hopes I would not have sold for a large sum of money, 
 and I seized the books and read them as fast as I could 
 in my eagerness to know the better and the worse. 
 
 What expectations I had formed, and how grievous- 
 ly was I disappointed! As I proceeded, I found my 
 philosopher altogether forsaking mind or any other 
 principle of order, but having recourse to air, and ether, 
 
SOCRATES 99 
 
 and water, and other eccentricities. I might compare 
 him to a person who began by maintaining generally 
 that mind is the cause of the actions of Socrates, but 
 who, when he endeavored to explain the causes of my 
 several actions in detail, w^nt on to show that I sit here 
 because my body is made up of bones and muscles; and 
 the bones, as he would say, are hard and have joints 
 which divide them, and the muscles are elastic, and they 
 cover the bones, which have also a covering or environ- 
 ment of flesh and skin which contains them; and as the 
 bones are lifted at their joints by the contraction or 
 relaxation of the muscles, I am able to bend my limbs, 
 and this is why I am sitting here in a curved posture — 
 that is what he would say; and he would have a similar 
 explanation of my talking to you, which he would at- 
 tribute to sound, and air, and hearing, and he would 
 assign ten thousand other causes of the same sort, forget- 
 ting to mention the true cause, which is, that the Athe- 
 nians have thought fit to condemn me, and accordingly 
 I have thought it better and more right to remain here 
 and undergo my sentence; for I am inclined to think 
 that these muscles and bones of mine would have gone 
 off long ago to Megara or Boeotia — by the dog they 
 would, if they had been moved only by their own idea 
 of what was best, and if I had not chosen the better and 
 nobler part, instead of playing truant and running away, 
 of enduring any punishment which the state inflicts. 
 There is surely a strange confusion of causes and con- 
 ditions in all this. It may be said, indeed, that without 
 bones and muscles and the other parts of the body I 
 cannot execute my purposes. But to say that I do as I 
 do because of them, and that this is the way in which 
 mind acts, and not from the choice of the best, is a very 
 
100 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 careless and idle mode of speaking. I wonder that they 
 cannot distinguish the cause from the condition, which 
 the many, feeling about in the dark, are always mis- 
 taking and misnaming. And thus one man makes a 
 vortex all round and steadies the earth by the heaven; 
 another gives the air as a support to the earth, which is 
 a sort of broad trough. Any power which in arranging 
 them as they are arranges them for the best never enters 
 into their minds; and instead of finding any superior 
 strength in it, they rather expect to discover another 
 Atlas of the world who is stronger and more everlasting 
 and more containing than the good; — of the obligatory 
 and containing power of the good they think nothing; 
 and yet this is the principle which I would fain learn if 
 any one would teach me. But as I have failed either 
 to discover myself, or to learn of any one else, the nature 
 of the best, I will exhibit to you, if you like, what I have 
 found to be the second best mode of inquiring into the 
 cause. 
 
 I should very much like to hear, he replied. 
 
 Socrates proceeded: I thought that as I had failed 
 in the contemplation of true existence, I ought to be 
 careful that I did not lose the eye of my soul ; as people 
 may injure their bodily eye by observing and gazing on 
 the sun during an eclipse, unless they take the pre- 
 caution of only looking at the image reflected in the water 
 or in some similar medium. So in my own case, I was 
 afraid that my soul might be blinded altogether if I 
 looked at things with my eyes or tried to apprehend 
 them by the help of the senses. And I thought that I 
 had better have recourse to the world of mind and seek 
 there the truth of existence. I dare say that the simile 
 is not perfect — for I am very far from admitting that 
 
SOCRATES 101 
 
 he who contemplates existences through the medium 
 of thought, sees them only ^'through a glass darkly/' any 
 more than he who considers them in action and opera- 
 tion. However, this was the method which I adopted: 
 I first assumed some principle which I judged to be the 
 strongest, and then I affirmed as true whatever seemed 
 to agree with this, whether relating to the cause or to 
 anything else; and that which disagreed I regarded as 
 untrue. 
 
 AN ILLUSTRATION OF SOCRATES's METHOD OF SHOWING UP 
 IGNORANCE ^^ 
 
 [Socrates speaks :] 
 
 By the gods, Meno, be generous, and tell me what you 
 say that virtue is; for I shall be truly delighted to find 
 that I have been mistaken, and that you and Gorgias 
 do really have this knowledge; although I have been just 
 saying that I have never found anybody who had. 
 
 Meno — There will be no difficulty, Socrates, in answer- 
 ing your question. Let us take first the virtue of a 
 man — he should know how to administer the state, and 
 in the administration of it to benefit his friends and 
 harm his enemies; and he must also be careful not to 
 suffer harm himself. A woman's virtue, if you wish to 
 know about that, may also be easily described : her duty 
 is to order her house, and keep what is indoors, and 
 obey her husband. Every age, every condition of fife, 
 young or old, male or female, bond or free, has a different 
 virtue; there are virtues numberless, and no lack of 
 definitions of them; for virtue is relative to the actions 
 and ages of each of us in all that we do. And the same 
 may be said of vice, Socrates. 
 
 " From the Meno of Plato, beginning on p. 71 D. Jowett's 
 translation. 
 
102 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Soc. — How fortunate I am, Meno. When I ask you 
 for one virtue, you present me with a swarm of them, 
 which are in your keeping. Suppose that I carry on the 
 figure of the swarm, and ask of you, What is the nature 
 of the bee? and you answer that there are many kinds 
 of bees, and I reply : But do bees differ as bees, because 
 there are many and different kinds of them ; or are they 
 not rather to be distinguished by some other quality, 
 as for example beauty, size, or shape? How would 
 you answer me ? 
 
 [After a little further questioning, Socrates succeeds 
 in showing Meno that what is wanted is not an enumer- 
 ation of different virtues, but a common definition of 
 virtue.] 
 
 Men. — Will you have one definition of them all? 
 
 Soc. — That is what I am seeking. 
 
 Men. — If you want to have one definition of them all, 
 I know not what to say, but that virtue is the power 
 of governing mankind. 
 
 [Socrates then leads Meno to confess that this cannot 
 describe the virtue of all, of children, e. g., and slaves, 
 and, indeed, that it cannot describe any man's virtue, 
 unless we add the words justly and not unjustly, which 
 would introduce a vicious circle. Meno then enumerates 
 the different recognized virtues, courage, temperance, 
 etc. But this brings back the difficulty of his first 
 answer. So he makes another attempt:] 
 
 Men. — Well, then, Socrates, virtue, as I take it, is 
 when he, who desires the honorable, is able to provide 
 it for himself ; so the poet says, and I say too : 
 
 Virtue is the desire of things honorable and the power of at- 
 taining them. 
 
 [Socrates makes Meno admit that all men really desire 
 
SOCRATES 103 
 
 the honorable, so that nothing is left of his definition 
 but "the power of attaining it"; and to make this virtue, 
 we must again introduce the qualification, ''of attaining 
 it with justice," which once more lands us in a circle. 
 In despair Meno exclaims :] 
 
 Men. — Socrates, I used to be told, before I knew 
 you, that you were always doubting yourseK and making 
 others doubt; and now you are casting your spells over 
 me, and I am simply getting bewitched and enchanted, 
 and am at my wits' end. And if I may venture to make 
 a jest upon you, you seem to me both in your appearance 
 and in your power over others to be very like the flat 
 torpedo fish, who torpifies those who come near him and 
 touch him, as you have now torpified me, I think. For 
 my soul and my tongue are really torpid, and I do not 
 know how to answer you; and though I have been 
 delivered of an infinite variety of speeches about virtue 
 before now, and to many persons — and very good ones 
 they were, as I thought — at this moment I cannot even 
 say what virtue is. 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF AS RE- 
 PORTED BY PLATO IN THE APOLOGY 
 
 What impression my accusers have made upon you, 
 fellow-Athenians, I cannot say. For my part, I came 
 near forgetting who I was; they spoke so plausibly. 
 Yet there was scarcely a word of truth in what they said. 
 But of the many lies they told there was one which 
 astonished me most of all. I mean the one where they 
 told you you would have to be on your guard lest I 
 deceive you, because I am a clever speaker. They did 
 indeed seem to me most brazen-faced, not to be ashamed 
 to say that, when they were sure to be confuted by me 
 the moment I opened my mouth and exhibited myself 
 as anything but a clever speaker; — unless, indeed, they 
 mean by ''clever speaker" one who speaks the truth. 
 If that is what they mean I am ready to confess that I 
 am eloquent, though not after the fashion of their 
 eloquence. 
 
 Well, as I was saying, my accusers have spoken 
 scarcely a word of truth. From me, however, you shall 
 hear the whole truth. But, Athenians, you will not 
 hear a speech like theirs, carefully constructed, and 
 decked out with fine words and phrases. Far from it. 
 I shall speak without preparation, in the words that 
 come first to my lips. For I am sure that my cause is 
 just. Let no one expect any different course, for it 
 would surely be unseemly that at my time of life I should 
 
 104 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 105 
 
 come before you forging arguments like a callow youth. 
 But there is one favor, Athenians, that I do most earnest- 
 ly request of you. If in defending myself I use the same 
 words I am accustomed to use in the market-place, 
 at the tables of the money changers, and elsewhere, 
 where many of you have heard me, do not be surprised, 
 and do not interrupt me for that. The fact is, I am 
 seventy years old and this is the first time that I have 
 appeared in court, and so I am altogether a stranger to 
 your manner of speech. Were I in truth a stranger you 
 would, I am sure, pardon me for speaking in my native 
 dialect and in the way that use had made familiar. And 
 so now I beg that you will look upon me in that light, 
 and grant this request, which I think I have a right to 
 make: Pay no heed to my manner of speaking, which 
 may or may not be good; but look to this only, give your 
 undivided attention to this: Is what I say right, or is it 
 not? That is what makes an excellent judge, as speak- 
 ing the truth makes an excellent orator. 
 
 In the first place, fellow-Athenians, it is but right that 
 I should defend myself against my old, old accusers, 
 and answer their false charges. After that I will take 
 up the charges of my present accusers. For my accusers 
 are many, and now full many a year they have been 
 accusing me falsety to you. It is these old accusers 
 that I fear, rather than Anytus and his accompHces, 
 formidable though they be. But, my friends, the old 
 accusers are the more formidable, for they got hold of 
 most of you when you were mere boys and poured into 
 your ears their false charges against me, persuading you 
 that there is one Socrates, a wise man, who speculates 
 about the heavens above and pries into all the secrets 
 of the earth beneath, and who makes the worse appear 
 
106 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 the better reason. The men who have been spreading 
 that tale are, fellow-Athenians, the accusers whom I fear. 
 For their hearers suppose that persons who pursue such 
 investigations do not even believe in gods. Then, too, 
 those accusers are many, and they have been at it a long 
 while, and they got a hearing at a time when you would 
 be most easily persuaded, for you were mere boys, some 
 of you just crossing the threshold of youth. And the 
 case went against me by default, for there was none to 
 answer their charges. And the most absurd part of it 
 is that I do not even know their names and cannot tell 
 you who they are — except in the chance case of a writer 
 of comedies. All these men who, through envy or malice, 
 persuaded you, — and some of them quite likely sought to 
 persuade others because they themselves had first been 
 persuaded, — these are the accusers it is hardest to answer. 
 For I cannot call any one of them into court to cross- 
 examine him. I must defend myseK exactly as if I 
 were fighting shadows, and cross-examine where there 
 is none to answer. 
 
 Assume with me, then, that my accusers are of two 
 kinds, as I was saying: those who have brought the 
 present charge, and my old time accusers whom I've 
 just been describing. And by your leave 111 answer my 
 old accusers first, for you heard them first, and much 
 oftener than the rest. Well, I must make my defence, 
 fellow-Athenians, and see if I can clear away in the short 
 time at my disposal, the prejudice which you have had 
 against me for many a year. Would that might be 
 the result, if so it is best for you and for me; would 
 I might succeed in my defence ! However, let the issue 
 be as God wills. In obedience to the law I must now 
 make my defence. 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 107 
 
 Let us begin at the beginning then and ask, What is 
 the charge that has created the prejudice against me 
 which Meletus is relying on in bringing me to trial? 
 Just what is the slander my enemies have been spread- 
 ing? Let us word their affidavit, as if their charge had 
 been brought before a court in regular form. It would 
 read something like this: ' 'Socrates is a wicked man. 
 He is a meddlesome person who pries into the secrets 
 of earth and of heaven, a man who makes the worse 
 appear the better reason; and he teaches other men to 
 do the same things." So it runs. It is what you your- 
 selves have seen in the comedy of Aristophanes, where 
 he represents a certain Socrates swinging about in a 
 basket and declaring that he is walking on air and 
 driveUing on at a great rate about matters concerning 
 which I don't make the slightest pretence of having any 
 knowledge whatever. I speak with no intention of 
 disparaging such knowledge, if any one has wisdom like 
 that. I trust I may not be brought to trial by Meletus 
 on so grave a count as that. But the truth is, fellow- 
 Athenians, I have nothing to do with physical specula- 
 tions. I can furnish plenty of witnesses on this point 
 from your own number. I ask those of you who have 
 heard me, — and that is certainly a goodly nimiber, — 
 to speak to your neighbors and tell them whether 
 they have ever heard me saying anything whatsoever 
 about such subjects. . . . There! That answer will 
 show you that the other charges current about me are 
 of the same stripe. 
 
 No, there is no truth in any of these charges. And if 
 you have heard any one say that I set myself up as a 
 teacher of men and exact a fee for my services, there's 
 no truth In that either. Not that I don't think it would 
 
108 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 be a fine thing to be able to teach men, as Gorgias of 
 Leontium does, or Prodicus of Ceos, or Hippias of Elis. 
 Any one of them can go into any city he likes and per- 
 suade the young men to forsake the society of their 
 fellow-citizens, from whom they could choose their 
 companions at will and without bribes, and to associate 
 with him and to pay him for the privilege, and be only 
 too glad to do so. And I've just heard that there is 
 another wise man, a Parian, who has lately come to 
 town. The other day I ran across Callias the son of 
 Hipponicus, a man who has spent more money on the 
 Sophists than all the rest put together. Knowing he had 
 two sons I said to him: ''Callias, if your sons had been 
 colts or calves we should have no difficulty in hiring a 
 trainer who was likely to bring out all the perfections that 
 belong to their nature : we should get some skilful groom 
 or farmer. But now, seeing that they are human beings, 
 whom do you intend to put in charge of their training? 
 Who is there that has the knowledge of that kind of 
 excellence, the excellence of the man and of the citizen ? 
 I don't doubt, having sons, you've considered the ques- 
 tion. Is there any such person?" ''Yes, indeed, there 
 is," he repUed. "Who is he," I said, "and where does 
 he hail from, and what's his fee?" "His name is 
 Evenus," he replied, "and he comes from Paros, and he 
 charges five minse." And I thought to myself, happy 
 is Evenus, if he really has this wisdom, and sells it so 
 cheap. Had I such wisdom I should be fairly puffed 
 up with pride. But the fact is, fellow-Athenians, I have 
 it not. 
 
 Here perhaps some of you will reply: But, Socrates, 
 what is this occupation of yours? AVhence come these 
 calumnies? Surely all this rimior and talk would never 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 109 
 
 have arisen had you not been different from other men. 
 You must have been engaged in some very unusual 
 pursuit. Tell us, then, what it is, that we may not be 
 guilty of judging you off-hand. That, I take it, is a 
 fair challenge; and, if you will give me your attention, 
 I'll try to explain to you what has caused the calumny 
 and given me this reputation. I am afraid some of you 
 will think I am trifling; but, rest assured, I will simply 
 tell you the whole truth. Fellow-Athenians, I have 
 acquired this reputation simply because of a certain 
 kind of wisdom which I do possess. You a^k, And what 
 kind of wisdom, pray, is that? I answer. The kind that 
 is, I think, attainable by man. It is just possible I 
 really am wise in that way; whereas the men of whom 
 I was just speaking are wise with what may perhaps 
 be called a superhuman wisdom. I don't know how 
 else to describe it, for I don't pretend to have it myself. 
 No, and whoever says that I do, lies, and is trying to 
 slander me. And I beg of you, fellow-Athenians, that 
 you will not hoot at me even if you think what I am 
 about to say very arrogant; for the words I shall speak 
 are not my own. I shall bring you as their author one 
 who is worthy of your confidence; I shall summon the 
 god of Delphi to testify of my wisdom, whether I have 
 any, and of what sort it is. You remember Chaerephon, 
 don't you? He was my comrade from his youth up. 
 And most of you have had him for a comrade; for he 
 went into exile with you, and with you he returned. 
 And of course you remember what sort of a man he 
 was, how impetuously he threw himself into everything 
 he undertook. Well, on one occasion, he went to 
 Delphi and actually had the temerity to put this question 
 to the oracle, — and once more, friends, I beg you not to 
 
110 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 cry out against me, — he asked if there was any one wiser 
 than I. Now the Pythian priestess answered that there 
 was no man wiser. Chserephon is dead, but his brother 
 here will bear witness to the truth of what I say. 
 
 Now observe why I tell you this. It is because I 
 mean to show you the origin of the prejudice against 
 me. When I heard the response of the oracle, I said to 
 myself: Whatever does the god mean? What is the 
 explanation of his riddle? For I well know that I am 
 not a wise man, — not in the least. What then could he 
 have meant by saying that I am the wisest of men? 
 He certainly didn't tell a he: he is a god and couldn't 
 do that. For a long time I puzzled over his meaning. 
 Then, after much dehberation, I hit upon this way of 
 finding it out. I went to one of the citizens who was in 
 high repute for his wisdom, thinking that there, if any- 
 where, I could prove the response wrong; and meaning 
 then to go to the oracle and say: ''You said I was the 
 wisest of men: lo! here is a wiser.'' Well, I examined 
 the man, — I needn't mention his name : he was a politician 
 — and this was my experience with him. As I talked 
 with him it became apparent that while he passed for a 
 wise man in the eyes of a great many persons, and most 
 of all in his own eyes, he was not wise at all. And then 
 I tried to show him that he was not wise, though he 
 fancied that he was. The result was, he hated me for it; 
 and many of those who were standing by hated me too. 
 And as I walked away I thought to myself, 'T am wiser 
 than that man. Probably neither of us knows anything 
 very much worth while; but he thinks that he knows, 
 when in reality he does not; I neither know nor think 
 that I know. On this small point at any rate I seem to 
 have the best of him: I do not fancy that I know when 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 111 
 
 in reality I am in ignorance." And then I went to 
 another man, who was held in still higher repute for his 
 wisdom, and he taught me the same lesson. And there 
 again I made an enemy of him, and of all of his friends. 
 
 Well, then, I went to one man after another. I saw 
 that I was making enemies all the while ; and I was sorry 
 for that, and feared the result. Still, I couldn't help it; 
 I had to put the command of God above every other 
 consideration. So, in my search for the meaning of the 
 oracle, I must make the rounds, going to all who were 
 reputed to be in any way wise. And I swear to you, 
 fellow-Athenians, by the dog of Egj^pt I swear, — for I 
 must tell you the truth, — this was the upshot of my 
 divinely appointed quest. The men held in highest 
 esteem for their wisdom proved to be just about the 
 most lacking in it; while others who are looked down upon 
 as people of the common sort were really wiser than they. 
 
 Now 1 must tell you the tale of my wanderings, of the 
 Herculean labors I endured, only to find in the end that 
 the oracle was irrefutable. After I had made trial of 
 the politicians I went to the poets, tragic, dithyrambic, 
 and the rest, thinking that there I should be flagrantly 
 trapped in my ignorance. So I would take up their 
 poems upon which they had apparently bestowed most 
 pains, and would ask them what they meant, hoping 
 that thereby I might learn something from them. Well, 
 my friends, I am almost ashamed to tell you the truth, 
 but I can't help it. The fact is, there is hardly a person 
 present who could not discuss the works of the poets 
 better than the poets themselves. So it didn't take long 
 to discover that the poets, in making their poems, are 
 guided, not by wisdom, but by a sort of divine frenzy 
 like that which possesses the prophets and the sooth- 
 
112 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 sayers. They too say many beautiful things without 
 knowing the meaning of what they say. It was clear to 
 me that the poets had come under some such spell. 
 And at the same time I observed that, because of their 
 skill in poetry, they fancied themselves the wisest of 
 men in other matters too, which they didn't know at all. 
 So as I went away I thought to myself that I had the 
 same advantage over them that I had over the politicians. 
 
 Last of all I went to the artisans. I was well aware 
 that I knew nothing of any consequence, and I was sure 
 that I should find them possessed of much admirable 
 knowledge. And I was not mistaken about this: they 
 did know things I am ignorant of, and, in so far, were 
 wiser than I. But, fellow-Athenians, I found that even 
 the skilled artisans made the same mistake as the poets. 
 Every man of them, because he was skilled in his par- 
 ticular craft, fancied himself mighty wise in other 
 matters, — and matters of the greatest importance; and 
 this fault of theirs cast their wisdom in the shade. And 
 so I asked myself, on behalf of the oracle, whether I 
 would rather remain as I am, having neither their wisdom 
 nor their ignorance, or have their wisdom together with 
 their ignorance. And the answer I made to myseK and 
 to the oracle was: "1 am better off as I am." 
 
 It is this inquisitorial task, fellow-Athenians, that 
 has made me so many enemies of the most fierce and 
 bitter kind. It is this that has given me the name of 
 'Vise man," and that is responsible for all their calumni- 
 ous charges. For the bystanders always think that I 
 myself possess the wisdom that I show to be lacking in 
 others. But, my friends, I suspect that God alone is 
 truly wise, and, by that oracular response, he meant 
 to say that our human wisdom is of little or no worth. 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 113 
 
 Apparently he wasn't speaking of me, Socrates. I think 
 he just used my name, and took me for an illustration, 
 as if he would say to mankind: ^'He is wisest among you 
 who, like Socrates, has found out that in truth his 
 wisdom is worth nothing at all." And so I still go about, 
 obedient to God's command, probing and testing any 
 one whom I take to be wise, whether he be a citizen or a 
 stranger. And whenever I find that he is not wise, 
 I show him that he is not, and thereby serve Apollo. 
 This occupation has kept me so busy that I have had 
 no time to take any part worth mentioning in pubUc 
 affairs, or even to look after my private interests. I 
 am in deep poverty because of my service to God. 
 
 And besides all this (there is another reason for my 
 unpopularity). The young of the richer class, who have 
 a lot of spare time, follow me about of their own accord, 
 and take delight in hearing men cross-examined. And 
 they often imitate me themselves, and try their hand at 
 cross-examining others. And I suspect they find no end 
 of men who think they know a great deal, when in fact 
 they know precious little. The result is, when their 
 sham wisdom has been shown up, they get angry with 
 me rather than with the young men, and vow, 'That 
 fellow Socrates is the plague of the town, and he cor- 
 rupts the youth." And if any one asks them. ''How? 
 What does he do? What does he teach?" they do not 
 know and have nothing to say. But, in order not to 
 seem at a loss, they repeat the old stock charges made 
 against all philosophers, — Prying into things up in the 
 clouds or under the earth, not believing in gods, and 
 making the worse appear the better reason. I can 
 readily believe that they would scarcely relish telling 
 the truth, which is that they have been convicted of lay- 
 
114 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ing claim to a wisdom they do not possess. And I don't 
 doubt they have been fiUing your ears this many a day 
 with their bitter accusations; for there are lots of them, 
 and they are energetic, and keen for notoriety, and they 
 speak plausibly, and they are all lined up against me. 
 This is the reason why Meletus and Anytus and Lycon 
 have attacked me. Meletus is taking up the quarrel 
 on behalf of the poets, Anytus on behalf of the crafts- 
 men and politicians, Lycon on behalf of the rhetoricians. 
 And so, as I remarked at the outset, I should be sur- 
 prised if I were able in the short time at my disposal to 
 remove a prejudice that has taken such deep hold upon 
 you. There, fellow-Athenians! I have given you the 
 plain, unvarnished truth, and the whole truth. And 
 yet I am tolerably sure that it is just this my bluntness 
 of speech that makes me enemies. That indeed is a 
 proof that I am telling you the truth, and that the 
 prejudice against me and its causes are as I have said. 
 And if you will look into this matter, now or at any 
 future time, you will find that it is so. 
 
 Let this suffice for my defence against the charges 
 brought by my earliest accusers. I will next attempt 
 to reply to Meletus, — ^ 'noble patriot," as he styles him- 
 self, — and to my later accusers. Let us assume them to 
 be a different set of accusers, and let us once more frame 
 the indictment. It runs something like this : Socrates is 
 guilty, it says, in that he corrupts the youth, and does 
 not believe in the gods of his country, but has other and 
 strange divinities of his own. So runs the charge. Let 
 us examine it point by point. The first count is, that I 
 am guilty in that I corrupt the youth. But for my part, 
 fellow-Athenians, I charge that Meletus is the culprit, 
 in thus mixing jest with earnest, and lightly bringing 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 115 
 
 men to trial, and pretending to be very earnest and very 
 solicitous about matters to which he has n^ver given a 
 moment's thought. And I will try to make it as plain 
 to you as it is to me that such is the case. 
 
 ''Come, Meletus, take the stand and answer my 
 question. Is it not a fact that you have very much at 
 heart the improvement of the youth?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 ''Well, then, tell the judges who it is that improves 
 them. You must know, for you care so much about it. 
 You have discovered, as you say, that I am their cor- 
 rupter, and are bringing me to trial on that charge. 
 Come, name the man who is their improver, tell the 
 judges who he is. You see, Meletus, you are silent; 
 you have nothing to say. And yet don't you think 
 that this is disgraceful ? Doesn't your silence sufficiently 
 prove the truth of what I was just saying, that you have 
 never given this matter a moment's thought? Speak 
 up, my good sir, who is it that makes the young men 
 better?" 
 
 "The laws." 
 
 "But, most noble Meletus, that was not what I asked. 
 I want to know who the man is who makes them better, 
 assuming, of course, that he has to begin with a knowledge 
 of the laws." 
 
 "The men before you, Socrates, — the judges." 
 
 "What do you mean, Meletus? Are they able to 
 instruct the young, and do they improve them?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "All of them, or only some of them?" 
 
 "All of them." 
 
 "By the goddess Hera, this is good news indeed. 
 There is a regular host of improvers of youth. And 
 
116 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 how about the audience? Do they improve them 
 too?" 
 
 'They do.'' 
 
 ''And the senators?" 
 
 "The senators, too." 
 
 "Well, then, take the members of the assembly. 
 Perchance they corrupt them. Or do they, too, without 
 exception, make them better?" 
 
 "They, too, make them better." 
 
 "Then apparently all the Athenians, excepting only 
 me, make the young men fair and virtuous. I am their 
 sole corrupter. Is that your meaning?" 
 
 "Most emphatically it is." 
 
 "Truly you have found me in a sorry plight. But 
 tell me, in the case of horses, does it strike you that it 
 is like that, — I mean, that some one man does them harm 
 while all the rest do them good? Is not the truth pre- 
 cisely the contrary, — that one man, or at most a few, 
 namely the skilled horse-trainers, do them good, while 
 the rest, if they have anything to do with them, or try to 
 break them in, do them harm? And isn't it this way, 
 Meletus, not only with horses, but with all other animals 
 too? Of course it is, whether you and Anytus say yes 
 or no. It were indeed a great piece of good fortune for 
 the young men if they had but one corrupter, and if 
 every one else did them good. But the truth is, Meletus, 
 you have clearly proved that you have never given the 
 slightest thought to the young. You make your care- 
 lessness quite evident; you show that you have never 
 paid the slightest heed to the matters about which you 
 are prosecuting me. 
 
 "Now, once more, Meletus, will you be good enough to 
 answer a question? Is it better to live among bad 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 117 
 
 citizens or among good ones? Answer, my friend. That 
 is surely not a hard question. Do not the bad citizens 
 do their neighbors harm, and the good citizens do them 
 good?" 
 
 ^^Certainly.^^ 
 
 "And is there any one who would deliberately prefer 
 to be harmed rather than to be benefited by those with 
 whom he associates? Answer, my friend, the law 
 requires you to. Does any one want to be injured?" 
 
 "Of course not." 
 
 "Well, then, are you bringing me to trial for corrupting 
 the youth and making them worse intentionally, or for 
 doing so imintentionally?" 
 
 "For doing so intentionally." 
 
 "What, Meletus, are you so much wiser than I, — you 
 so young, and I so old, — that you have made the dis- 
 covery that evil men always do evil to their neighbors, 
 and good men good, whereas I, forsooth, have fallen to 
 such a depth of ignorance as not to be aware that if I 
 make a rogue of a fellow-citizen he is likely to do me 
 harm? And so I commit this great wrong intentionally, 
 as you aver? Meletus, you will never convince me of 
 that, or any one else, I trust. No, either I do not corrupt 
 the young men at all, or I do so unintentionally; so that 
 in either case your statement is false. And if I corrupt 
 them unintentionally, then of such unintentional mis- 
 deeds the law takes no cognizance. You ought rather 
 to have taken me aside and taught me and admonished 
 me. For it is plain that I shall stop sinning unin- 
 tentionally when I have been taught better. But you 
 have always avoided me; you didn't want to instruct me. 
 And now you are bringing me into court, where the law 
 brings men for punishment, not for instruction." 
 
118 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Well, fellow-Athenians, you must find it quite evident 
 by this time that, as I was saying, Meletus has never 
 troubled himself a bit about these matters. ''However, 
 tell us, Meletus, in what way, according to you, I corrupt 
 the youth. Or is it plain enough from the indictment 
 you have brought, that it is by teaching them not to 
 believe in the gods our country recognizes, but in other 
 and strange divinities? You say, do you not, that this 
 is the teaching by which I corrupt the youth?" 
 
 ''Precisely; and I say it most emphatically." 
 
 "Then, Meletus^ in the name of those very gods of 
 whom we are speaking, tell me and my judges here a 
 little more clearly what you mean. I can't quite make 
 out whether you accuse me of teaching them to believe 
 in some gods — in which case I myself believe in gods and 
 am not a downright atheist. I don't offend in that way. 
 My offence is rather that I believe in strange divinities, 
 and not in the gods of my country. Or whether you 
 accuse me of not believing in gods at all, and of making 
 atheists of others too." 
 
 "I mean that you are a downright atheist." 
 
 "My good fellow, what makes you say that? Do you 
 mean to say that I don't even believe, like other men, 
 that the sun and the moon are gods? " 
 
 "Judges, I swear, by heaven I swear, he does not; for 
 he says the sun is a stone and the moon earth." 
 
 "My dear Meletus, you must think you are prosecuting 
 Anaxagoras! Have you such a poor opinion of the 
 judges, and do you think them so unlettered as not to 
 know that the works of Anaxagoras of Clazomense are 
 chock full of those doctrines ? So the young men actually 
 learn those doctrines from me, do they? when for a 
 drachma at most they can often hear them at the theatre, ■ 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 119 
 
 and laugh Socrates to scorn if he pretends they are his, 
 — such very odd doctrines, too. No, but honestly, Mele- 
 tus, do you really think I don't believe in any god at all? " 
 
 ''I do. I swear by heaven that you do not believe 
 in any god at all." 
 
 "Nobody beUeves you, Meletus. Indeed, I feel sure 
 you don't believe yourself." It seems to me, fellow- 
 Athenians, that my accuser is an insolent and impertinent 
 young man, and that he has brought this indictment in 
 a spirit of sheer insolence and youthful audacity. He 
 is like a man who tries to pose you by putting a paradox. 
 And he is saying to himself: Will the wise Socrates see 
 that I am jesting and contradicting myself, or shall I 
 succeed in befuddling him and the rest of my hearers? 
 For he plainly contradicts himself in the indictment, 
 just as if he were to say : Socrates is a wicked man because 
 he does not believe in gods, but believes in gods. 
 
 If you will follow me, friends, you will see how I find 
 him thus inconsistent. "Answer me, Meletus." And 
 I hope that you, my judges, will remember the request 
 I made at the beginning, and quietly suffer me to talk 
 in my usual way. 
 
 "Is there any one in the world, Meletus, who believes 
 there are things human, while at the same time not 
 believing there are any himians?" I wish, friends, that 
 he would answer without these continual interruptions. 
 " Is there any one who believes that horsemanship ex- 
 ists, but no horses; flute-playing, but no flute-players? 
 There is no one, my dear man; I'll tell you and the judges 
 that, if you don't choose to answer. But at least answer 
 my next question: Is there any one who believes there 
 are divine agencies, while at the same time not believing 
 that there are divinities?" 
 
120 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "There is no one." 
 
 ''I am delighted that the judges have at last managed 
 to pull an answer from you. Well, then, you say that I 
 believe in, and teach others to believe in divine agencies 
 — no matter whether new or old — at all events I believe 
 in divine agencies. I have your own word for that; you 
 swore to it in your indictment. Now, if I believe in 
 divine agencies, surely I must of necessity believe that 
 there are divinities. That follows, doesn't it? Well, 
 it does. I assume from your silence that you admit that. 
 And by 'divinities' we mean, do we not, either gods or 
 sons of gods? Yes or no?" 
 
 ''Yes, certainly." 
 
 "You admit then that I believe in divinities. Now 
 if these divinities are a species of gods, then there is my 
 proof that you are trifling and speaking in riddles, and 
 are saying in one and the same breath that I do not 
 believe in gods and that I do believe in gods, inasmuch 
 as I believe in divinities. If, on the other hand, these 
 divinities are sons of gods, their natural sons, as it were, 
 by nymphs or some other mortal mothers, as rumor 
 makes them, — why, then, let me ask you, is there any 
 one in the world who could suppose that there are sons 
 of gods, and at the same time that there are no gods? 
 That would be just as absurd as to hold that there are 
 mules, and to hold at the same time that there are 
 neither horses nor asses ! No, Meletus, you must surely 
 have brought this indictment against me in order to 
 make trial of me, — or else, because you couldn't find any 
 real offence to charge me with. But you will never 
 succeed, by hook or by crook, in persuading any one 
 who has a scrap of intelligence, that one and the same 
 man can believe in supernatural and divine agencies, 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 121 
 
 and yet not believe that there are divinities, gods and 
 heroes." 
 
 But really, fellow-Athenians, I don't think I need 
 make a long speech in order to show that I am not 
 guilty of the crime charged by Meletus. I have said 
 enough for that. But it is only too true, as I remarked 
 before, that I have made many and bitter enemies. 
 That is what will convict me, if I am convicted, — not 
 Meletus, nor Anytus, but the prejudice and ill-will of 
 the multitude. These things have convicted many 
 another innocent man, and they will, I dare say, continue 
 to do so : there is no fear that I shall be the last. 
 
 Possibly some one will here interpose: Are you not 
 ashamed, Socrates, to have led a life of such a kind that 
 it has brought you into imminent danger of death? To 
 him I should say, and my answer would be just: You are 
 wrong, my friend, if you think a man who is good for 
 anything at all ought, when he acts, to be calculating 
 his chances of life and death, instead of paying heed to 
 this, and this alone : Is he doing right or wrong, are his 
 deeds the deeds of a good man or of a bad ? Why, your 
 theory would make worthless men of all the heroes who 
 fell at Troy, and especially of Thetis's son who despised 
 danger when the alternative was disgrace. For when 
 he was bent on slaying Hector his goddess mother spoke 
 to him in words, I believe, something like this: ^'My son, 
 if you avenge the death of your comrade Patroclus, and 
 slay Hector, you yourseK will die. For straightway after 
 Hector's death," said she, ''your doom awaits you." He 
 listened to her warning, and, scorning danger and death, 
 but greatly dreading to live a coward's life, with his 
 friend unavenged, he exclaimed: ''Let death come, but 
 let me first punish the murderer of my friend, that I may 
 
122 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 not remain here by the beaked ships the scorn of men, 
 a mere cumberer of the earth." You don't suppose he 
 had any anxiety about danger and death? And, fellow- 
 Athenians, this is just as it should be. In whatever 
 post a man finds himself, whether he has chosen it, 
 thinking it the best, or whether he has been placed 
 there by his superior, there he ought, I am sure, to re- 
 main, whatever the risks, taking no thought of death, 
 or of anything else save disgrace. 
 
 Fellow-Athenians, when the generals whom you had 
 chosen to place over me assigned me my post at Potidsea, 
 at Amphipolis, and at Delium, I remained where they 
 had put me, facing death like any other man. Strange 
 indeed then would be my conduct if, through fear of 
 death or of anything else, I were now to desert the post 
 where God has placed me, as I am firmly persuaded 
 that he has, commanding me to spend my life in the 
 search after truth and in examining myseK and others. 
 Yes, that would indeed be strange. Then surely I 
 might with justice be brought to trial on the charge of 
 not believing in the gods, for I should be disobeying the 
 oracle through fear of death, fancying myself wise when 
 I am not. For to fear death means simply to think 
 you are wise when you are not; for it is equivalent to 
 thinking you know what you do not know. No one 
 knows what death is, whether it be not the greatest 
 blessing that can befall a man. Yet men fear it as if they 
 knew for certain that it is the greatest of evils. And 
 isn't this just ignorance of that disgraceful sort, thinking 
 we know what we do not know? Here too, friends, very 
 likely I differ from most men in this, and if I should 
 venture to say that I am wiser than another in anything 
 it would be in this, that having no clear knowledge of the 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 123 
 
 other world I do not delude myself into thinking that I 
 have. But this I do know, that to do wrong, and to be 
 disloyal to a superior — whether God or man — is base and 
 dishonorable. And I shall always fear and flee from 
 the evils that I know to be evils, rather than from reputed 
 evils which, for all I know, may be blessings. 
 
 And so if you should let me go free now, notwithstand- 
 ing the plea of Anytus that either you ought never to 
 have brought me to trial at all, or, having done so, you 
 cannot possibly do anything but put me to death, 
 because, as he tells you, if I escape now your sons will 
 all forthwith practise what Socrates teaches and be 
 utterly ruined, — if you were to say to me, in view of his 
 argument: ' 'Socrates, this time we shall not listen to 
 Anytus. We shall let you go free, but on this condition, 
 that you give up this quest of yours and philosophize 
 no more. If you are caught at it again you shall die." 
 If, I say, you were to let me off on these terms, I should 
 reply: 'Tellow-Athenians, I love you, I am devoted to 
 you; but I shall obey God rather than you. And while 
 breath and strength hold out I shall never cease from 
 pursuing wisdom, or from exhorting any one of you 
 whom I may meet, speaking frankly to him, and saying 
 in my usual fashion: ''My friend, as a citizen of Athens, a 
 city greatest and most famous for its wisdom and power, 
 are you not ashamed to be so greedy for wealth and name 
 and fame, so careless and so thoughtless about wisdom 
 and truth and the perfecting of your own soul?" And 
 if he contradicts me, and says that he does care about 
 these things, I shall not take him at his word and 
 straightway let him go, but I shall question him and 
 cross-question him and test him, and if I find that he is 
 not virtuous, but only says that he is, I shall rebuke 
 
124 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 him for prizing least what is of most value and prizing 
 more what is of less worth. This service I shall render 
 to every one I meet, young or old, citizen or alien, but 
 especially to you citizens, for you are more nearly akin 
 to me. Be assured, this is God's command. And I 
 hold that no greater blessing has ever befallen you in 
 Athens than this my service to God. For I spend all 
 my time going about among you, persuading you, old 
 and young ahke, not to be so solicitous about your bodies 
 or your possessions, but first of all, and most earnestly, 
 to consider how to make your souls as perfect as possible; 
 and teUing you that wealth does not bring virtue: rather, 
 virtue brings wealth and every other himian good, 
 private or public. If then by such teaching I corrupt 
 the youth, these must be pernicious doctrines. But if 
 any one asserts that I teach anything else than this he 
 lies. Wherefore, Athenians, either listen to Anytus or 
 do not, acquit me or not; but rest assured, I shall never 
 alter my way of life — no, not though many deaths 
 await me. 
 
 Do not interrupt me, fellow-Athenians; stand by me 
 in the request I made that you should listen patiently 
 to my words. For I think that it will be to your ad- 
 vantage to hear them. I hesitate to speak, for the fact 
 is what I am going to say is pretty sure to make you 
 shouting mad; but you simply mustn't let it do so. If 
 you put me to death, my character being such as I tell 
 you it is, you may be very sure that you will do greater 
 harm to yourselves than to me. Neither Meletus nor 
 Anytus could possibly do me any real injury; it isn't in 
 their power to do so ; for I take it Providence will never 
 permit a bad man to harm one better than himself. 
 Meletus may indeed compass my death, he may have me 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 125^ 
 
 banished or deprived of my rights as a citizen. And 
 very likely he, and other men too, imagine that these 
 things are very great evils. I do not. Nay, I hold that 
 it is a much greater evil to do what he is doing now, — 
 trying to put a man to death unjustly. 
 
 So, fellow-Athenians, I am not making the present 
 defence just to save my own life, as might be supposed. 
 Not at all. I am doing so to save you from sinning 
 against God and rejecting his gift to you by condemning 
 me. For if you kill me you will not easily find another 
 man who hke me will, at God's bidding, literally stick 
 to the state like a gadfly to a horse, — if you'll pardon a 
 rather ludicrous comparison. For the state is like a 
 huge horse of noble breed, but rather sluggish from his 
 very size, and needing the gadfly to wake him up. And 
 I think God has given me to the state to play the part 
 of just such a gadfly, and I keep lighting upon you any 
 and everywhere, and spend the hvelong day waking you 
 up, and persuading you and rebuking you. My friends, 
 you will not easily find another man like that, and if 
 you take my advice you will spare my life. However, 
 it is quite possible that you are irritated, like drowsy 
 men when they are awakened, and that you will listen 
 to Anytus and crush this gadfly, lightly putting me to 
 death. Then you could sleep on in peace for the rest 
 of your days, — unless God in his care for you were to 
 send you another tormentor. That it is God himself 
 who has given me to the state you can see from this: 
 no mere human motive would account for my having 
 neglected all my own affairs, allowing my private interests 
 to go to ruin during all these years, while at the same 
 time always looking after your welfare, going to you all, 
 one by one, like a father or an elder brother, and urging 
 
126 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 you to pay heed to virtue. If I had taken a fee for my 
 exhortations and made any money out of them my con- 
 duct could be accounted for. But now you yourselves 
 see that my accusers, though they have accused me of 
 everything else with such effrontery, hadn't the face to 
 try to show that I ever either asked or received any fee. 
 I offer you, I fancy, in my actual poverty an incon- 
 trovertible witness to the truth of my words. 
 
 Well, very likely it has the air of inconsistency to be 
 going about in private offering you my advice and 
 busying myself with your affairs, while not venturing to 
 come forward in public in your assemblies to give the 
 state the benefit of my advice. The reason for this you 
 have heard me give over and again, and in divers places : 
 a certain supernatural and divine sign comes to me, — 
 and it is this that Meletus has caricatured in his indict- 
 ment. I have had it ever since I was a child. It is a 
 sort of voice that speaks to me, and whenever I hear it 
 it always dissuades me from doing what I was on the 
 point of doing, but never urges me on. This is what for- 
 bids my taking part in public life; and it does so wisely, 
 I think. For I am very sure, fellow-Athenians, that 
 had I attempted to take part in public life I should have 
 perished long ago, without doing any good either to you 
 or to myself. And don't be angry with me for telling 
 the truth, but the fact is that there is no man whose life 
 will be safe, here or anywhere else, if he sets himself 
 genuinely in opposition to the multitude, and tries to 
 prevent the many unjust and lawless deeds done in the 
 state. No, he who would really battle for the right must 
 do so in private and not in public life if he means to live 
 even for a short season. 
 
 I will give you a striking proof of this, not words but. 
 
SDCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 127 
 
 what has more weight with you, — deeds. Listen, and 
 I'll tell you some of my experiences, that you may be 
 convinced that I would give way to no man through fear 
 of death, although, for not giving way, I should have to 
 die on the spot. The tale I am going to tell is common 
 enough and may weary you, but it is true. I never 
 held any office in the state, Athenians, except that of 
 senator. And it chanced that my tribe, Antiochus, 
 had the presidency at the time when you proposed to 
 try in a body, and contrary to the law, as you all after- 
 ward realized, the ten generals who had not rescued 
 their men after the battle of Arginusse. On that oc- 
 casion I was the only one of the presidents who opposed 
 your illegal action and voted against it. In spite of your 
 orators, who were ready to arrest me and lay an informa- 
 tion against me, in spite of your shouts and your threats, 
 I deemed it my duty to face every risk, with the law and 
 the right on my side, rather than join you in your 
 iniquitous designs through fear of imprisonment and 
 death. 
 
 This happened while the government was still a 
 democracy. And again, when the oligarchy was es- 
 tablished, the Thirty summoned me and four others to 
 the council chamber and ordered us to bring Leon the 
 Salaminian from Salamis to be put to death. You know 
 that was a way they had; they gave orders like that to a 
 great many other men too, for they wanted to implicate 
 as many as possible in their guilty deeds. However, 
 there again I showed, not by my professions but by my 
 practice, that, if you'll pardon the slang, I didn't care 
 a fig for death; my great and only care was to do nothing 
 wrong or impious. Strong as was the tyranny of the 
 Thirty, it was not strong enough to frighten me into 
 
128 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 doing wrong. AVhen we left the council chamber the 
 four others went over to Salamis and brought Leon back, 
 but I went off home. No doubt I should have lost my 
 life for my disobedience had not the government of the 
 Thirty been overthrown soon afterward. You can have 
 plenty of witnesses to the truth of what I say. 
 
 Do you imagine for a moment that I should have 
 survived all these years had I taken part in public affairs 
 and, like an honest man, always stood for the right and, 
 as in duty bound, made that my chief concern? Cer- 
 tainly not, fellow-Athenians, — nor I nor any other man. 
 Throughout my whole life, whenever I have had occasion 
 to take part in public affairs, you will find me always 
 the same, and the same in private life too, never swerving 
 from the path of justice through complaisance to any 
 man, — to any of those whom my traducers call my 
 disciples, or to any one else. The fact is, I never was any 
 man's teacher; but if any one, young or old, wants to 
 hear me talking, as I pursue my mission, he is welcome 
 to do so. And I do not talk for a fee and refuse to talk 
 unless paid. I am at the service of rich and poor alike. 
 Any one may question me, or, if he prefers, answer my 
 questions, and may listen to what I say. And whether 
 he turns out to be a good citizen or otherwise, I cannot 
 rightly be held responsible, for I have never taught or 
 promised to teach any one of them anything. And if 
 any one says he has ever learned or heard anything from 
 me in private other than what all the rest of you have 
 heard you may surely put him down for a liar. 
 
 But, you will ask, why is it then that people like to 
 spend so much time in my company? You have my 
 answer already, fellow-Athenians. I have told you the 
 whole truth. They like to hear me cross-examining men 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 129 
 
 who think they are wise when they are not. You know, 
 it is rather amusing. This mission, as I say, has been 
 assigned to me by God who has made his will known 
 through oracles, dreams, and in every other way by 
 which the divine providence has ever imposed any duty 
 upon man. This is the truth, Athenians, and may 
 easily be proved. For if I am corrupting some of the 
 young men, and have corrupted others, surely some of 
 them ought to come forward to-day as my accusers and 
 take their revenge, if, now that they are grown up, they 
 have discovered that I ever gave them bad advice in 
 their youth. And if they themselves were unwilling to 
 do so, some of their kinsmen — fathers, brothers, or other 
 relatives — ought now to remember it and take their 
 revenge if I had done their kinsmen any wrong. Cer- 
 tainly I see plenty of them here in court. First there is 
 Crito, a man of my age and of my own deme, and there 
 is his son, Critobulus. Then there is Lysanias of Sphet- 
 tus, and there is his son, ^Eschines; and there is Antiphon, 
 too, the father of Epigenes. Then here are others whose 
 brothers have associated with me, Nicostratus, son of 
 Theozotides, and brother of Theodotus — and Theodotus 
 is dead so he at least cannot bind his brother to silence. 
 And here is Paralus, son of Demodocus, who had a 
 brother Theages ; and here is Adeimantus, son of Ariston, 
 and there is his brother Plato ; and there is ^Eantodorus 
 with his brother Apollodorus. And I could name many 
 others to you. Surely, during the course of his speech, 
 Meletus ought to have produced one of them as a witness 
 against me. If he forgot it then, let him do so now, — 
 I will make way for him, — and let him tell us if he has 
 any such evidence. But you will find, my friends, that, 
 on the contrary, they are all ready to defend me, — me the 
 
130 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 corrupter, the man who has worked evil to those of their 
 own household, if we are to take the word of Meletus and 
 Anytus. To be sure, those who have themselves been 
 corrupted might have their reason for supporting me; 
 but the uncorrupted, their kinsmen who are already 
 advanced in years — what reason have they for defending 
 me, except the true and just one : they know Meletus is a 
 liar and that I am speaking the truth. 
 
 Well, gentlemen, this, and possibly more of the same 
 sort, is about all I have to say in my defence. Perhaps 
 there is some one among you who will be angry when he 
 recalls how he himself, when a defendant in a case of far 
 less importance than this, wept copiously, and begged 
 and implored the judges, bringing his children into 
 court and a great many others, kinsmen and friends, to 
 arouse as much as possible your feelings of compassion; 
 and when he finds that I shall do none of these things, 
 although, in all likelihood, my life is at stake. And 
 so, as he thinks of this, he may harden his heart against 
 me, and be angry with me for this very reason, and cast 
 his vote in anger. If there is any one of you in this case 
 — I don't think there should be, but if there is, I think I 
 might very properly say to him: My friend, doubtless 
 I too have a few kinsmen, for, to borrow Homer's 
 words, ''I am born not of wood nor of stone, but of 
 woman." And so I have kinsmen, yes, and sons, fellow- 
 Athenians — three of them. One is already a youth, the 
 others are mere boys. Nevertheless, I will not bring 
 one of them here, nor beg you for an acquittal. And 
 why not? Not because I am stubborn, nor because I 
 fail in my respect for you, fellow-Athenians. Whether 
 or not I face death with courage is not the question now. 
 But I think that for me, at my time of life and with my 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 131 
 
 reputation for wisdom, whether deserved or not, to do 
 any of those things would spell dishonor to me and to 
 you and to the whole state. Wliatever the fact, it is the 
 commonly received opinion that Socrates is in some way 
 superior to the general run of mankind. It were surely 
 a disgrace if those of you who are held to excel in 
 wisdom or courage, or in any other virtue, were to act 
 like men whom I've often seen, — men of some reputa- 
 tion too, — who when brought to trial behaved in the 
 strangest manner, as if they were convinced that it was 
 a most terrible thing to die, and as if they expected to 
 live forever provided you did not put them to death. 
 I think such men bring dishonor to our state, so that 
 any stranger would suppose that the Athenians, who 
 excel in virtue, and who are chosen by their fellow- 
 citizens for public offices and other dignities, are no 
 better than women. Fellow-Athenians, it is not right for 
 us who have any reputation at all to behave this way; 
 and if we do, then you ought to put a stop to it. On 
 the other hand you ought to make it plain that you will 
 be much more likely to condemn the man who gets up 
 these piteous farces, thereby making the city ridiculous, 
 than the man who keeps calm. 
 
 But, my friends, apart from the question of reputation, 
 I think it is not right to implore a judge for mercy and 
 receive acquittal as a favor. It is one's duty to en- 
 lighten and convince him; for he sits as judge to deter- 
 mine what is just and not to curry favor with his verdicts. 
 And he has taken oath to judge according to the laws, 
 and not to favor those whom it may please him to favor. 
 And so it is not right that we should get you in the habit 
 of perjuring yourselves, or that you should acquire 
 that habit, for there would be no piety in that either for 
 
132 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 you or for me. Therefore, fellow-citizens, do not require 
 me to do, where you are concerned, what I hold to be 
 neither honorable nor right nor pious, no, not at any time, 
 and least of all when I am being prosecuted by Meletus 
 on the charge of impiety. For I should clearly be 
 teaching you to believe that there are no gods if I were 
 to persuade you and were to overpower your oaths by 
 my importunings. In my very defence I should lit- 
 erally be accusing myself of believing that there are no 
 gods. But that is far from being the case. Fellow- 
 Athenians, I do believe in the gods, more firmly than 
 any of my accusers, and to you and to God I commend 
 my cause, to be decided in the way that will prove best 
 for you as well as for me. 
 
 [Socrates is found guilty by a vote of 281 to 220. The 
 penalty of death has been proposed by Meletus, and it 
 is now Socrates's privilege to propose a counter penalty.] 
 
 Fellow-Athenians, I am not greatly displeased at the 
 verdict you have brought in, and that for many reasons. 
 I was quite prepared for this result. But I am greatly 
 surprised at the way the votes were divided. I had no 
 idea the majority against me would be so small; I ex- 
 pected it to be overwhelming. But now it seems that if 
 only thirty votes had changed sides I should have been 
 acquitted. Indeed, as it is, I think that I have escaped 
 Meletus. And not only that; it must be apparent to 
 all that had Anytus and Lycon not come forward to 
 join him in the accusation he would not have obtained 
 the fifth part of your votes, and so would have been fined 
 a thousand drachmas. 
 
 So Meletus proposes death as the penalty. Very good. 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 133 
 
 And what shall I propose to you, fellow-Athenians, as a 
 counter penalty? Obviously, what I deserve. And 
 what is that? What penalty should I suffer, what fine 
 should I pay because I didn't spend my life in ease; 
 because I cared not for what most men prize — making 
 and hoarding money, military commands, speech-making 
 in the assembly, public offices, and the conspiracies and 
 factions of our state, thinking myseK really too con- 
 scientious a man to go in for such things and live; 
 because I didn't enter upon a career which would prevent 
 my doing any good to you or to myself, but adopted the 
 course that would enable me, as I have said, to do the 
 greatest possible service to each of you individually, and 
 tried to persuade each of you to take thought for himself 
 and consider how he could make himself as good and as 
 wise as possible before he took thought for his affairs, 
 and in the same way to take thought for the state itself 
 before concerning himseK with the state's affairs, and in 
 all cases to follow the same order in his solicitudes? 
 Whsit then do I deserve for such a life? Something 
 good, fellow-Athenians, if I must really fix the penalty 
 according to my deserts, and moreover a good such as 
 would be suitable for me to accept. What then is a fit 
 recompense for a benefactor who is poor and who requires 
 leisure that he may exhort you? Fellow-Athenians, 
 there is none that is more fitting for a man of that sort 
 than that he be maintained in the Prytaneum at the 
 public expense. It is far more suitable to give him such 
 a reward than to give it to one of your number who has 
 been victorious in a horse-race, or in a two- or four-horse 
 chariot-race, at the Olympic games. He gives you the 
 appearance of happiness ; I give you the reality. Besides, 
 he is not in want; I am. And so if I must propose the 
 
13$ SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 penalty which I justly deserve I should propose this: 
 maintenance in the Prytaneum at the pubhc expense. 
 
 Well, very likely you will think that I am saying this 
 from sheer obstinacy, interpreting this pretty much as 
 you did what I said about wailing and begging for mercy. 
 But such is not the fact, Athenians. The truth rather 
 is that I speak as I do because I am convinced that I 
 never wronged any man intentionally, though I cannot 
 convince you of that. We have had too short a time to 
 discuss the matter. If it were the law here, as it is in 
 other lands, that in a case where the penalty is death 
 the trial must continue for several days, and not one 
 only, I might have convinced you. As it is, it is not easy 
 to do away with formidable calumnies all in a moment. 
 I am firmly convinced that I never wronged any man, 
 and I certainly shall not wrong myself. And I shall not 
 accuse myself of deserving any evil, nor shall I propose 
 anything of the sort for myseK as a penalty. Whsit fear 
 could drive me to that? Fear lest I suffer the penalty 
 Meletus proposes, when, as I say, I do not know whether 
 it be a good or an evil? Would you have me propose 
 instead things which I know to be evils? What penalty 
 shall I propose? Imprisonment? And why should I 
 spend my life in prison, a slave to the Elevens successively 
 appointed as jailers? Or shall it be a fine, with im- 
 prisonment until it is paid? But for me that would be 
 equivalent to life imprisonment. For I have no money 
 to pay a fine with. Or shall it be exile? Perhaps you 
 would agree to that punishment. I must indeed be 
 madly in love with life if I am so lost to reason as not 
 to be able to reflect that, if you who are my fellow-citizens 
 were unable to tolerate my discussions and my arguments, 
 and have found them so troublesome and so odious that 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 135 
 
 you are now seeking to be quit of them, strangers will 
 scarcely find it easy to bear with me. Far from it, 
 Athenians, a fine life it would be for an old man like me 
 to leave my native town and pass my days in wandering 
 from city to city, always being driven out. For I am 
 sure that wherever I go the young men will listen to 
 my arguments, just as they do here. And if I drive them 
 away they will persuade their elders to drive me away. 
 If I do not drive them away, their fathers and kinsmen 
 will expel me for their sakes. 
 
 But perhaps some one may say: Socrates, when you 
 quit us, won't it be possible for you to refrain from talking 
 and to hold your peace? This is just the point that it 
 is most difficult to make you understand, for if I say that 
 that means to disobey God, and that therefore I cannot 
 hold my peace, you will not beUeve me, you will say that 
 I am not speaking candidly. If on the other hand I tell 
 you that it is also the very best thing a man can do, to 
 be applying his reason every day to the question of virtue 
 and to the other matters you hear me conversing about, 
 as I examine myself and others; and if I add that the 
 imexamined fife is not worthy to be lived by man, — you 
 are still less likely to believe me. I am but telHng you 
 the truth, friends, though it is not easy for me to persuade 
 you. For the rest, I have not been accustomed to think 
 myself deserving of any evil. If I had money I should 
 have proposed a fine as large as I could pay. That 
 would not have hurt me any. As it is, I haven't the 
 money for that, unless you are willing to impose a fine 
 within the possibility of my slender means. Very likely 
 I could pay a mina of silver. AVell, I propose that. — 
 Fellow-Athenians, Plato here, and Crito, and Critobulus, 
 bid me make it thirty minse and offer to be my sureties. 
 
136 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 So I propose that amount. You will have in them 
 ample security for the money. 
 
 [Socrates's half-ironical proposition is not accepted 
 and the penalty of death is imposed. Socrates con- 
 tinues :] 
 
 You have not gained much time, fellow-Athenians, 
 and the price you will pay is the evil name which those 
 who wish to abuse our city will give you. They will 
 blame you for having put to death Socrates, a wise man. 
 For those who will want to reproach you will say that I 
 am wise even though I am not. If you had had patience 
 to wait for a little while you would have gained your 
 end in the course of nature. For as you see I am already 
 far advanced in years, and near to death. I say this 
 not to all of you, but only to those who voted for my 
 death. And I have something else to say to them. You 
 may perhaps think, gentlemen, that I have been con- 
 victed because I w^as lacking in the kind of arguments 
 necessary to persuade you, — that is, if I had thought it 
 right to leave nothing unsaid or imdone in order to 
 escape punishment. Far from it. I have been con- 
 victed because I was lacking, not in argument, but in 
 effrontery and shamelessness, and because I was un- 
 willing to speak to you as you would have liked to have 
 me speak, weeping and lamenting, and doing and saying 
 many other things the like of which you have been wont 
 to hear from other men, but which, as I have said, are 
 unworthy of me. When I was making my defence I 
 thought I ought not to do anything unworthy of a free- 
 man just because I was in danger, and I have no mis- 
 givings now over the manner of my defence. No, I 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 137 
 
 would far rather defend myself as I did, and die, than 
 owe my life to a craven defence. For it is wrong for 
 me, and for any one else, either in a lawsuit or in battle, 
 to resort to every possible device in order to escape death. 
 In battle it is often plain that a man may at least save his 
 life by throwing down his arms and imploring quarter 
 of his pursuers. And in other kinds of danger there 
 are plenty of devices whereby a man may save his life, 
 if he has the audacity to say and do any and everything. 
 But, my friends, I suspect the difficulty is, not to escape 
 death, but rather to escape wickedness. For wickedness 
 runs swifter than death, and now I who am old and 
 slow have been caught by the slower runner, while my 
 accusers who are clever and swift have been caught by 
 the faster runner, which is wickedness. And now I 
 depart having been condemned to death by you. They, 
 too, depart condemned by truth to pay the penalty of 
 depravity and unrighteousness. I abide by my punish- 
 ment; let them abide by theirs. I suppose these things 
 are destined so to be; and I think that it is all for the best. 
 And now I want to prophesy the future to you who 
 have condemned me. For I am about to die, and that 
 is the time when men are most gifted with prophetic 
 power. I say to you, you who have condemned me to 
 death, that the moment I am gone punishment will 
 overtake you, yes, by heaven, a punishment far more 
 severe than the penalty of death which you have in- 
 flicted upon me. You have now done this thing in the 
 belief that you are going to be free from the necessity of 
 giving an account of your lives. I assure you that the 
 result will be quite to the contrary. There will be many 
 more to call you to account, men whom I have thus far 
 been holding in check though you didn't perceive it. 
 
138 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 And they are younger, and will be so much the harder 
 upon you, and you will be so much the more angry with 
 them. For you are much mistaken if you think that 
 by putting men to death you can keep people from 
 reproaching you for your evil lives. That way of 
 escape is certainly not possible, nor is it honorable. 
 The way that is at once easiest and most honorable is, 
 not to be silencing the reproaches of others, but to 
 be making yourselves as perfect as you can. With 
 this prophecy, then, I take my leave of you who have 
 condemned me. 
 
 But with you who have voted to acquit me I would 
 gladly converse about this thing that has happened, 
 while the officers are busy, and before I go where I must 
 go to die. Pray stay that long with me, my friends, for 
 there is no reason why we should not talk together about 
 our beliefs while we may. I want to explain to you who 
 are my friends the meaning of what has just befallen me. 
 For a very strange thing has happened to me, my judges 
 — for I am surely right in addressing you as judges, — my 
 familiar prophetic voice, the divine sign, has up to the 
 present time always been in the habit of opposing me 
 even in most trifling matters, when I was on the point of 
 acting wrongly. But now you yourselves see what has 
 just happened to me, a thing which one might think, 
 which is generally considered, the greatest possible evil. 
 But the divine sign did not oppose me as I was leaving 
 my house this morning, nor as I was mounting the plat- 
 form here in court, nor did it oppose me once in my 
 speech in what I was about to say. Yet often on other 
 occasions it has stopped me right in the middle of a 
 speech. But now, in this affair, it has not opposed a 
 single word or deed of mine. What do I take to be the 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 139 
 
 meaning of this? I will tell you. This thing that has 
 happened to me must be a blessing, and we who think 
 that death is an evil are surely mistaken in our belief. 
 I have received striking evidence of this, for it is im- 
 possible that the divine sign should not have opposed 
 me, unless indeed I am going to fare well. 
 
 Again, look at the matter in this light too, and we 
 discover high hopes for beheving that death is a blessing. 
 There are just two alternatives with regard to death: 
 either the dead man has lost all power of perception, and 
 wholly ceased to be; or else, as tradition has it, the soul 
 at death changes its habitation, moving from its home 
 here to its home yonder. And if there is no perception 
 at all, and death is like a sound sleep unbroken even by a 
 dream, then it is a wonderful gain. For I think if one 
 were called upon to select the night in which he slept so 
 soundly that he did not even dream, and to compare all 
 the other days and nights of his life with that night, and 
 to declare after careful consideration how many days and 
 nights of his life he had passed better or more agreeable 
 than that night, I think that no one, whether private 
 citizen or even the great king himself, would find them 
 very easy to count in comparison with all the rest. If 
 then that is what death is like I for one say it is a gain, 
 for in that case all eternity is but a single night. If on 
 the other hand death is a journey to another world, and 
 if the traditional belief is true that all the dead are 
 there, what blessing could be greater than this, my 
 judges? If, on arriving in the under world, one is free 
 from these pretended judges here, and finds the true 
 judges who are said to sit in judgment there, Minos and 
 Rhadamanthus and ^acus and Triptolemus, and all the 
 other demigods who in life were themselves just — 
 
140 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 wouldn't that be a journey worth taking! Again, to 
 associate with Orpheus and Musseus and Hesiod — what 
 would you not give for that privilege ! For my part I am 
 ready to die over and over again if these beliefs are true; 
 for I should find wondrous pleasure in the life over there, 
 meeting with Palamedes and Ajax, the son of Telamon, 
 or any of the other men of old who met their death 
 through an unjust judgment. It would be no small 
 pleasure, I take it, to compare my own experiences with 
 theirs. And, best of all, I could spend my time ex- 
 amining and questioning the men over there, as I do the 
 men here on earth, finding out which of them are wise, 
 and which of them thinks himself wise when he is not. 
 What would one not give, my judges, to examine him 
 who led the great expedition against Troy, or Odysseus 
 or Sisyphus or countless other men and women who 
 might be named? What inconceivable happiness to be 
 with them, to converse with them, and examine them! 
 One thing at least is certain: they do not put a man to 
 death over there for asking questions. For the men of 
 that world, besides being happier than we are in all other 
 respects, are once and for all immortal, if the tales that 
 are told are true. You too, my judges, are to face death 
 full of hope. You ought to meditate on this truth: no 
 evil can possibly befall a good man, in this life or after 
 death. His interests are not neglected by the gods. 
 And it is no mere chance that has brought him to this 
 pass. No, I see clearly, that it is better for me to die 
 now and be released from trouble. That is why the 
 oracle did not once turn me back; that is why I am not 
 at all angry with these men who have condemned me, or 
 with my accusers. To be sure it was not with this in 
 mind that they condemned me, or brought the accusa- 
 
SOCRATES'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF 141 
 
 tion against me, but because they thought to do me harm. 
 For that indeed I may fairly blame them. 
 
 However, I have this request to make of them. When 
 my sons grow up take your revenge on them, gentlemen ; 
 plague them just as I have plagued you, if you find them 
 setting their hearts on riches, or on anything else more 
 than on virtue. If they think they are something when 
 in reality they are nothing, reproach them, as I have 
 reproached you, for not caring for the things they ought 
 to care for and for thinking they are worth something 
 when they are worth nothing at all. If you do this I 
 shall have received justice at your hands, I and my 
 sons, too. 
 
 But the time has come for us to depart — I to die, you 
 to live. Which of us is going to the better lot God 
 alone clearly knows. 
 
XI 
 
 THE LESSER SOCRATICS 
 ARISTIPPUS—THE CYRENAICS 
 
 The^ Cyrenaics said that the feelings were the criteria 
 of truth, that they alone could be apprehended and 
 were not misleading. On the other hand the causes of 
 the feelings, one and all, are incomprehensible and the 
 source of false opinion. For whenever we experience a 
 white color or a sweet taste we can speak without fear 
 of being misled or refuted; but what it is that causes 
 the feeling white or sweet, that we cannot tell. 
 
 * * 
 
 It is 2 not the man who abstains who is pleasure's 
 
 master, but rather the man who enjoys pleasure without 
 being completely carried off his feet. Just as in the case 
 of a ship or a horse one does not show one's mastery by 
 refraining from use, but by knowing how to direct them 
 
 whithersoever he will. * 
 
 * * 
 
 But 2 Aristippus was a man very quick at adapting 
 himself to every kind of place, and time, and person, and 
 he easily supported every change of fortune. For which 
 reason he was in greater favor with Dionysius than any 
 of the others, as he always made the best of existing 
 circumstances. For he enjoyed what was before him 
 
 1 Sext. Emp. Math. Adv. VII. 191. 
 
 2 Aristippus ap. Stob. Florileg. 17, 18. 
 
 ' From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, with a few minor 
 changes, p. 81. 
 
 142 
 
THE LESSER SOCRATICS 143 
 
 pleasantly, and he did not toil to procure himself the 
 enjoyment of what was not present. On which account 
 Diogenes used to call him the king's dog. And Timon 
 used to snarl at him as too luxurious, speaking somewhat 
 in this fashion : 
 
 Like the effeminate mind of Aristippus, 
 
 Who, as he said, by touch could judge of falsehood. 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 These ^ men then who continued in the school of 
 Aristippus, and were called Cyrenaics, adopted the 
 following opinions: They said that there were two 
 emotions of the mind, pleasure and pain; that the one, 
 namely pleasure, was a moderate emotion; the other, 
 namely pain, a rough one. And that no one pleasure was 
 different from or more pleasant than another; and that 
 pleasure was praised by all living things, pain avoided. 
 They said also that pleasure belonged to the body, and 
 constituted its chief good; .... but the pleasure 
 which they call the chief good is not that pleasure as a 
 state which consists in the absence of all pain and is a 
 sort of undisturbedness, which is w^hat Epicurus admits 
 as such; for the Cyrenaics think that there is a distinction 
 between the chief good and a life of happiness, for that 
 the chief good is a particular pleasure, but that happi- 
 ness is a state consisting of a number of particular pleas- 
 ures, among which both those which are past and those 
 which are future are enumerated. And they consider 
 that the particular pleasure is desirable for its own 
 sake; but that happiness is desirable not for its own sake, 
 but for that of the particular pleasure. And that the 
 proof that pleasure is the chief good is that we are from 
 
 * From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, pp. 89-9L 
 
144 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 our childhood attracted to it without any dehberate 
 choice of our own; and that when we have obtained it, 
 we do not seek anything further, and also that there is 
 nothing which we avoid so much as we do its opposite, 
 which is pain. And they assert, too, that pleasure is a 
 good, even if it arises from the most unbecoming causes ; 
 .... for even if an action be ever so absurd, still the 
 pleasure which arises out of it is desirable, and a good. 
 Moreover, the banishment of pain, as it is called by 
 Epicurus, appears to the Cyrenaics not to be pleas- 
 ure; neither is the absence of pleasure pain, for both 
 pleasure and pain consist in motion; and neither the 
 absence of pleasure nor the absence of pain is motion. 
 In fact, absence of pain is a condition like that of a 
 person asleep. They say also that it is possible that 
 some persons may not desire pleasure, owing to some 
 perversity of mind. They hold that the pleasures and 
 pains of the mind do not all originate in pleasures and 
 pains of the body, for pleasure often arises from the mere 
 fact of the prosperity of one's country, or from one's 
 own ; but they deny that pleasure is caused by either the 
 recollection or the anticipation of good fortune — though 
 Epicurus asserted that it was — for the motion of the mind 
 is put an end to by time. They say, too, that pleasure 
 is not caused by simple seeing or hearing. Accordingly 
 we listen with pleasure to those who give a representation 
 of lamentations; but we are pained when we see men 
 lamenting in reality. And they called the absence of 
 pleasure and of pain intermediate states; and asserted 
 that corporeal pleasures were superior to mental ones, 
 and corporeal sufferings worse than mental ones. And 
 they argued that it was on this principle that offenders 
 were punished with bodily pain; for they thought that 
 
THE LESSER SOCRATICS 145 
 
 to suffer pain was hard, but that to be pleased was 
 more in harmony with the nature of man, on which 
 account also they took more care of the body than of 
 the mind. 
 
 And although pleasure is desirable for its own sake, 
 still they admit that some of the efficient causes of it are 
 often troublesome, and as such opposite to pleasure; so 
 that they think that an assemblage of all the pleasures 
 which produce happiness is the most difficult thing 
 conceivable. . . . They left out all investigation of the 
 subjects of natural philosophy, because of the evident 
 impossibility of comprehending them; but they appHed 
 themselves to the study of logic, because of its utihty. 
 . . . They also taught that there was nothing naturally 
 and intrinsically just, or honorable, or disgraceful; but 
 that things were considered so because of law and fashion. 
 The good man will do nothing out of the way, because of 
 the punishments which are imposed on, and the dis- 
 credit which is attached to, such actions: and that the 
 good man is a wise man. 
 
 THE CYNICS—ANTISTHENES AND DIOGENES 
 
 Originally ^ he [Antisthenes] was a pupil of Gorgias the 
 rhetorician. . . . Afterward, he attached himseK to 
 Socrates, and made such progress in philosophy while 
 with hirq, that he advised all his own pupils to become 
 his fellow-pupils in the school of Socrates. And as he 
 lived in the Piraeus he went up forty furlongs to the 
 city every day in order to hear Socrates, from whom he 
 learnt the art of enduring, and of being indifferent to 
 
 » From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, p. 217. 
 
146 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 external circumstances, and so became the original 
 founder of the Cynic school. 
 
 And he used to argue that labor was a good thing, by 
 adducing the examples of the great Hercules, and of 
 Cyrus. . . . And he used continually to say, ''I would 
 rather go mad than feel pleasure." 
 
 * * 
 
 And ® the doctrines he adopted were these: He used 
 to insist that virtue was a thing which might be taught; 
 also, that the nobly born and virtuously disposed were 
 the same people; for that virtue was of itself sufficient 
 for happiness, and was in need of nothing, except the 
 strength of Socrates. He also looked upon virtue as a 
 species of work, not wanting many arguments, or much 
 instruction; and he taught that the wise man was 
 sufficient for himself; for that everything that belonged 
 to any one else belonged to him. He considered ob- 
 scurity of fame a good thing, and equally good with 
 labor. And he used to say that the wise man would 
 regulate his conduct as a citizen, not according to the 
 established laws of the state, but according to the law 
 of virtue. 
 
 Diodes also attributes the following apophthegms to 
 him: To the wise man, nothing is strange and nothing 
 remote. The virtuous man is worthy to be loved. 
 Good men are friends. It is right to make the brave 
 and just one's allies. Virtue is a weapon of which a 
 man cannot be deprived. It is better to fight with a 
 few good men against all the wicked, than with many 
 wicked men against a few good men. One should attend 
 to one's enemies, for they are the first persons to detect 
 one's errors. One should consider a just man as of more 
 
 ♦ From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, pp. 220-221. 
 
THE LESSER SOCRATICS 147 
 
 value than a relation. Virtue is the same in a man as 
 in a woman. What is good is honorable, and what is 
 bad is disgraceful. Think everything that is wicked, 
 foreign. Prudence is the safest fortification; for it can 
 neither fall to pieces nor be betrayed. One must prepare 
 one's self a fortress in one's own impregnable thoughts. 
 
 *** 
 The ^ Cynics were for doing away with the whole 
 system of logic and natural philosophy . . . and held 
 that one should devote one's seK solely to the study of 
 ethics. . . . They would discard all liberal studies. . . . 
 Their doctrine is that the chief good of man consists in 
 living according to virtue. . . . They also teach that men 
 ought to lead the simple life, eating only plain food, and 
 that in moderation, wearing nothing but a cloak, and 
 showing contempt for wealth and fame and noble birth. 
 
 Diogenes^ used to say that there are two kinds of 
 training, that of the mind and that of the body . . . and 
 that neither is complete without the other. And he 
 said that training gives power to overcome every obsta- 
 cle, and that everjrwhere in life training is the condition 
 of success. ... He held that those who gave up useless 
 labor and confined themselves to the tasks that nature 
 enjoined, could not fail to live happily. It is our folly 
 alone that makes us unhappy. For the very contempt 
 of pleasure, when one has grown accustomed to it, is 
 itself a source of great pleasure. And just as those who 
 are accustomed to a life of luxury are brought very 
 unwillingly to adopt the simple life, so those who have 
 been trained in the latter take pleasure in their very 
 scorn of pleasure. 
 
 7 Diog. Laert. VI. 103. « lb. VI. 70. 
 
XII 
 PLATO 
 
 [427-347 B.C.] 
 
 PREDECESSORS, 
 
 After 1 the philosophers we have described ^ appeared 
 the philosophical system of Plato which agreed with 
 their views in many points, but had its own peculiar 
 tenets which distinguished it from the philosophy of 
 the ItaUc school. For from his youth up Plato had been 
 familiar with Cratylus and with the opinions of the 
 Heraclitean school — that all things of sense are in 
 perpetual flux and that no real knowledge of them is 
 possible. These views Plato held in later life as well. 
 But while Socrates was occupying himself with ethical 
 investigations, and not at all with nature as a whole, 
 and yet in these investigations was in search of the 
 general law and was the first to direct his attention to 
 the task of definition, — Plato accepted this view too, 
 but drew the conclusion that the definition had for its 
 object something distinct from the objects of sense, for 
 it was impossible that there should be a common defini- 
 tion of any one of the objects of sense, since these are 
 continually changing. And such realities he called ideas; 
 but he held that the objects of sense existed over and 
 above ideas and were all named after them ; for the many 
 things that are called by the same name with the ideas 
 exist only through ' 'participation" in them. This ex- 
 
 » Arist. Met. I. 6, 987 a 29. ' I. e., the Pythagoreans- 
 
 148 
 
PLATO 149 
 
 pression "participation" is but a new name for an older 
 view, for the Pythagoreans declared that things that are 
 exist through ^'imitation" of numbers; Plato, changing 
 the name, says it is through participation. But ex- 
 actly what is the nature of this participation or of this 
 imitation they have alike failed to explain. Further- 
 more Plato holds that over and above the objects of 
 sense and the ideas exist the objects with which mathe- 
 matics deals, occupying an intermediate position, differing 
 from the objects of sense in being eternal and immovable, 
 and differing on the other hand from the ideas in that 
 there are many fac-similes of each, whereas every self- 
 existent idea is one and one only. 
 
 From the Phcedrus^ 
 
 DIALECrriC VERSUS RHETORIC 
 
 Socrates. — But let me ask you, friend: have we not 
 reached the plane-tree to which you were conducting us ? 
 
 Phcedrus. — Yes, this is the tree. 
 
 Soc. — By Here, a fair resting-place, full of summer 
 sounds and scents. Here is this lofty and spreading 
 plane-tree, and the agnus castus high and clustering, 
 in the fulle^.t blossom and the greatest fragrance; and 
 the strean. which flows beneath the plane-tree is deli- 
 ciously cold to the feet. Judging from the ornaments 
 and images, this must be a spot sacred to Achelous and 
 the Nymphs. How delightful is the breeze: — so very 
 sweet; and there is a sound in the air shrill and summer- 
 like which makes answer to the chorus of the cicada?. 
 But the greatest charm of all is the grass, like a pillow 
 gently sloping to the head. My dear Phsedrus, you have 
 been an admirable guide. 
 
 ' From Plato's Phcedrus, Jowett's translation, beginning p. 230 A. 
 
150 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Phoedr. — What an incomprehensible being you are, 
 Socrates: when you are in the country, as you say, you 
 really are like some stranger who is led about by a guide. 
 Do you ever cross the border? I rather think that you 
 never venture even outside the gates. 
 
 Soc. — Very true, my good friend; and I hope that you 
 will excuse me when you hear the reason, which is, that 
 I am a lover of knowledge, and the men who dwell in the 
 city are my teachers, and not the trees or the country. 
 Though I do indeed believe that you have found a spell 
 with which to draw me out of the city into the country, 
 like a hungry cow before whom a bough or bunch of 
 fruit is waved. For only hold up before me in like 
 manner a book, and you may lead me all round Attica, 
 and over the wide world. And now having arrived, I 
 intend to lie down, and do you choose any posture in 
 which you can read best. 
 
 [Referring to the love-myth which he had unfolded 
 in the Phaedrus Socrates comments as follows :] ^ 
 
 The composition was mostly playful. Yet in these 
 chance fancies of the hour were involved tT\o principles 
 of which we should be too glad to have a clearer de- 
 scription if art could give us one. 
 
 Phcedr. — What are they? 
 
 Soc. — First, the comprehension of scattered particulars 
 in one idea; as in our definition of love, which whether 
 true or false certainly gave clearness and consistency 
 to the discourse, the speaker should define his several 
 notions and so make his meaning clear. 
 
 Phcedr. — What is the other principle, Socrates? 
 
 * From Plato's Phcedrus, Jowett's translation, beginning p. 265 D. 
 
PLATO 151 
 
 Soc. — The second principle is that of division into 
 species according to the natural formation, where the 
 joint is, not breaking any part as a bad carver might. 
 Just as our two discourses, alike assumed, first of all, 
 a single form of unreason; and then, as the body which 
 from being one becomes double and may be divided into 
 a left side and right side, each having parts right and 
 left of the same name — after this manner the speaker 
 proceeded to divide the parts of the left side and did not 
 desist until he found in them an evil or left-handed love 
 which he justly reviled; and the other discourse lead- 
 ing us to the madness which lay on the right side, found 
 another love, also having the same name, but divine, 
 which the speaker held up before us and applauded and 
 affirmed to be the author of the greatest benefits. 
 
 Phcedr. — Most true. 
 
 Soc. — I am myself a great lover of these processes of 
 division and generalization; they help me to speak and 
 to think. And if I find any man who is able to see "a, 
 One and Many" in nature, him I follow, and 'Valk in 
 his footsteps as if he were a god." And those who have 
 this art, I have hitherto been in the habit of calling 
 dialecticians; but God knows whether the name is right 
 or not. ... ± 
 
 Oratory ^ is the art of enchanting the soul, and there- 
 fore he who would be an orator has to learn the differ- 
 ences of human souls^they are so many and of such a 
 nature, and from them come the differences between 
 man and man. Having proceeded thus far in his 
 analysis, he will next divide speeches into their different 
 classes: ''Such and such persons," he will say, ''are 
 
 •From Plato's Phcedr us, J owett's translation, beginning p. 271 D. 
 
152 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 affected by this or that kind of speech in this or that 
 way/' and he will tell you why. The pupil must have a 
 good theoretical notion of them first, and then he must 
 have experience of them in actual life, and be able to 
 follow them with all his senses about him, or he will 
 never get beyond the precepts of his masters. But when 
 he understands what persons are persuaded by what 
 arguments, and sees the person about whom he was 
 speaking in the abstract actually before him, and knows 
 that it is he, and can say to himself, 'This is the man or 
 this is the character who ought to have a certain argu- 
 ment applied to him in order to convince him of a certain 
 opinion" ; he who knows all this, and knows also when he 
 should speak and when he should refrain, and when he 
 should use pithy sayings, pathetic appeals, sensational 
 effects, and all the other modes of speech which he has 
 learned ; when, I say, he knows the times and seasons of 
 all these things, then, and not till then, he is a perfect 
 master of his art; but if he fail in any of these points, 
 whether in speaking or teaching or writing them, and 
 yet declares that he speaks by rules of art, he who says, 
 "I don't believe you,'' has the better of him. 
 
 From the Symposium « 
 
 ON LOVE 
 
 I will rehearse a tale of love which I heard from 
 Diotima of Mantineia, a woman wise in this and in many 
 other kinds of knowledge, who in the days of old, when 
 the Athenians offered sacrifice before the coming of the 
 plague, delayed the disease ten years. She was my 
 instructress in the art of love, and I shall repeat to you 
 
 • From Plato's Symposium, Jowett's translation, beginning p. 
 201 D. 
 
PLATO 153 
 
 what she said to me. . . . ''^Tiat then is Love?" I 
 asked. 'Is he mortal?" ''No." ''What then?" "As 
 in the former instance, he is neither mortal nor im- 
 mortal, but in a mean between the two." "What is he, 
 Diotima?" "He is a great spirit (Sal/jLcov), and like all 
 spirits he is intermediate between the divine and the 
 mortal." "And what," I said, "is his power?" "He 
 interprets," she repHed, "between gods and men, con- 
 veying and taking across to the gods the prayers and 
 sacrifices of men, and to men the commands and replies 
 of the gods; he is the mediator who spans the chasm 
 which divides them, and therefore in him all is bound 
 together, and through him the arts of the prophet and 
 the priest, their sacrifices and mysteries and charms, 
 and all prophecy and incantation, find their way. For 
 God mingles not with man; but through Love all the 
 intercourse and converse of God with man, whether 
 awake or asleep, is carried on. The wisdom which 
 understands this is spiritual; all other wisdom, such as 
 that ot arts and handicrafts, is mean and vulgar. Now 
 these spirits or intermediate powers are many and 
 diverse, and one of them is Love. . . . 
 
 "You may say generally that all desire of good and 
 happiness is only the great and subtle power of love ; but 
 they who are drawn toward him by any other path, 
 whether the path of money-making or gymnastics or 
 philosophy, are not called lovers — the name of the 
 whole is appropriated to those whose affection takes 
 one form only — they alone are said to love, or to be 
 lovers." "I dare say," I repUed, "that you are right." 
 "Yes," she added, "and you hear people say that lovers 
 are seeking for their other half; but I say that they are 
 seeking neither for the half of themselves nor for the 
 
154 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 whole, unless the half or the whole be also a good. And 
 they will cut off their own hands and feet and cast them 
 away, if they are evil; for they love not what is their 
 own, unless perchance there be some one who calls what 
 belongs to him the good, and what belongs to another 
 the evil. For there is nothing which men love but the 
 good. Is there anything?" '^Certainly, I should say, 
 that there is nothing." ^Then," she said, ''the simple 
 truth is, that men love the good." 'Tes," I said. 'To 
 which must be added that they love the possession of the 
 good?" "Yes, that must be added." "And not only 
 the possession, but the everlasting possession of the 
 good?" "That must be added too." "Then love," she 
 said, "may be described generally as the love of the 
 everlasting possession of the good?" "That is most 
 true." 
 
 "Then if this be the nature of love, can you tell me 
 further," she said, "what is the manner of the pursuit? 
 what are they doing who show all this eagerness and 
 heat which is called love? and what is the object which 
 they have in view? Answer me." '^Nay, Diotima," I 
 replied, "if I had known, I should not have wondered at 
 your wisdom, neither should I have come to learn from 
 you about this very matter." "Well," she said, "I 
 will teach you: The object which they have in view is 
 birth in beauty whether of body or soul 
 
 "These are the lesser mysteries of love, into which 
 even you, Socrates, may enter; to the greater and more 
 hidden ones which are the crown of these, and to which, 
 if you pursue them in a right spirit, they will lead, I 
 know not whether you will be able to attain. But I will 
 do my utmost to inform you, and do you follow if you 
 can. For he who would proceed aright in this matter 
 
PLATO 155 
 
 should begin in youth to visit beautiful forms; and first, 
 if he be guided by his instructor aright, to love one such 
 form onTy — out of that he should create fair thoughts; 
 and soon he will of himself perceive that the beauty of one 
 form is akin to the beauty of another ; and then if beauty 
 of form in general is his pursuit, how foolish would he be 
 not to recognize that the beauty in every form is one and 
 the same ! And when he perceives this he will abate his 
 violent love of the one, which he will despise and deem 
 a small thing, and will become a lover of all beautiful 
 forms ; in the next stage he will consider that the beauty 
 of the mind is more honorable than the beauty of the 
 outward form. So that if a virtuous soul have but a 
 little comeliness, he will be content to love and tend him, 
 and will search out and bring to the birth thoughts 
 which may improve the young, until he is compelled to 
 contemplate and see the beauty of institutions and laws, 
 and to understand that the beauty of them all is of one 
 family, and that personal beauty is a trifle; and after 
 laws and institutions he will go on to the sciences, that 
 he may see their beauty, being not like a servant in love 
 with the beauty of one youth or man or institution, 
 himself a slave mean and narrow-minded, but drawing 
 toward and contemplating the vast sea of beauty, he 
 will create many fair and noble thoughts and notions in 
 boundless love of wisdom; until on that shore he grows 
 and waxes strong, and at last the vision is revealed to 
 him of a single science, which is the science of beauty 
 everywhere. To this I will proceed; please to give me 
 your very best attention : 
 
 ''He who has been instructed thus far in the things of 
 love, and who has learned to see the beautiful in due 
 order and succession, when he comes toward the end will 
 
156 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 suddenly perceive a nature of wondrous beauty (and 
 this, Socrates, is the final cause of all our former toils) — 
 a nature which in the first place is everlasting, not 
 growing and decaying, or waxing and waning; secondly, 
 not fair in one point of view and foul in another, or at one 
 time or in one relation or at one place fair, at another 
 time or in another relation or at another place foul, as 
 if fair to some and foul to others, or in the likeness of a 
 face or hands or any other part of the bodily frame, 
 or in any form of speech or knowledge, or existing in any 
 other being, as for example, in an animal, or in heaven, 
 or in earth, or in any other place; but beauty absolute, 
 separate, simple, and everlasting, which without diminu- 
 tion and without increase, or any change, is imparted 
 to the ever-growing and perishing beauties of all other 
 things. He who from these ascending under the in- 
 fluence of true love, begins to perceive that beauty, is not 
 far from the end. And the true order of going, or being 
 led by another, to the things of love, is to begin from 
 the beauties of earth and moimt upward for the sake of 
 that other beauty, using these as steps only, and from 
 one going on to two, and from two to all fair forms, and 
 from fair forms to fair practices, and from fair practices 
 to fair notions, \mtil from fair notions he arrives at the 
 notion of absolute beauty, and at last knows what the 
 essence of beauty is. This, my dear Socrates," said 
 the stranger of Mantineia, ''is that life above all others 
 which man should live, in the contemplation of beauty 
 absolute; a beauty which if you once beheld, you would 
 see not to be after the measure of gold, and garments, 
 and fair boys and youths, whose presence now entrances 
 you; and you and many a one would be content to live 
 seeing them only and conversing with them without 
 
PLATO 157 
 
 meat or drink, if that were possible — you only want to 
 look at them and to be with them. But what if man 
 had eyes to see the true beauty — the divine beauty, I 
 mean, pure and clear and unalloyed, not clogged with 
 the pollutions of mortality and all the colors and vanities 
 of human life — thither looking, and holding converse 
 with the true beauty simple and divine? Remember 
 how in that communion only, beholding beauty with the 
 eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not 
 images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an 
 image, but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing 
 true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, 
 if mortal man may. Would that bean ignoble life?" 
 
 Such, Phgedrus — and I speak not only to you, but to 
 all of you — were the words of Diotima; and I am per- 
 suaded of their truth. And being persuaded of them, 
 I try to persuade others, that in the attainment of this 
 end human nature will not easily find a helper better 
 than love. And therefore, also, I say that every man 
 ought to honor him as I myseK honor him, and walk in 
 his ways, and exhort others to do the same, and praise 
 the power and spirit of love according to the measure 
 of my ability now and ever. 
 
 From the Philehus'' 
 
 PLEASURE AND THE OTHER GOODS 
 
 Socrates. — Then, Protarchus, you will proclaim every- 
 where, by word of mouth to this company, and by 
 messengers bearing the tidings far and wide, that pleasure 
 is not the first of possessions, nor yet the second, but 
 that in measure, and the mean, and the suitable, and the 
 like, the eternal nature has been found. 
 
 » From the Philehus, p. 66 A, Jowett's translation. 
 
158 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Protarchus. — Yes, that seems to be the result of what 
 has been now said. 
 
 Soc. — In the second class is contained the sym- 
 metrical and beautiful and perfect or sufficient, and all 
 which are of that family. 
 
 Pro.— True. 
 
 Soc. — And if you reckon in the third class mind and 
 wisdom, you will not be far wrong, if I divine aright. 
 
 Pro. — I dare say. 
 
 Soc. — And would you not put in the fourth class the 
 goods which we were affirming to appertain specially to 
 the soul — sciences and arts and true opinions as we called 
 them? These come after the third class, and form the 
 fourth, as they are certainly more akin to good than 
 pleasure is. 
 
 Pro. — Surely. 
 
 Soc. — The fifth class are the pleasures which were 
 defined by us as painless, being the pure pleasures of the 
 soul herself, as we termed them, which accompany, some 
 the sciences, and some the senses. 
 
 Pro. — Perhaps. 
 
 Soc. — And now, as Orpheus says: 
 
 With the sixth generation cease the glory of my song. 
 
 Here, at the sixth award, let us make an end; all that 
 remains is to set the crown on our discourse. 
 
 Pro. — True. 
 
 Soc. — Then let us sum up and reassert what has 
 been said, thus offering the third Hbation to the sav- 
 iour Zeus. 
 
 Pro.— How? 
 
 Soc. — Philebus affirmed that pleasure was always and 
 absolutely the good. 
 
PLATO 159 
 
 Pro. — I understand; this third Hbation, Socrates, of 
 which you spoke, meant a recapitulation. 
 
 Soc. — ^Yes, but Usten to the sequel; convinced of what 
 I have just been saying, and feeling indignant at the 
 doctrine, which is maintained, not by Philebus only, but 
 by thousands of others, I affirmed that mind was far 
 better and far more excellent, as an element of human 
 life, than pleasure. 
 
 Pro.— True. 
 
 Soc. — But, suspecting that there were other things 
 which were also better, I went on to say that if there was 
 anything better than either, then I would claim the 
 second place for mind over pleasure, and pleasure would 
 lose the second place as well as the first. 
 
 Pro. — You did. 
 
 Soc. — Nothing could be more satisfactorily shown than 
 the unsatisfactory nature of both of them. 
 
 Pro. — Very true. 
 
 Soc. — The claims both of pleasure and mind to be the 
 absolute good have been entirely disproven in this 
 argument, because they are both wanting in self- 
 sufficiency and also in adequacy and perfection. 
 
 Pro. — Most true. 
 
 Soc. — But, though they must both resign in favor of 
 another, mind is ten thousand times nearer and more 
 akin to the nature of the conqueror than pleasure. 
 
 Pro. — Certainly. 
 
 Soc. — And, according to the judgment which has now 
 been given, pleasure will rank fifth. 
 
 Pro. — True. 
 
 Soc. — But not first; no, not even if all the oxen and 
 horses and animals in the world by their pursuit of en- 
 joyment proclaim her to be so; — although the many 
 
160 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 trusting in them, as diviners trust in birds, determine 
 that pleasures make up the good of life, and deem the 
 lusts of animals to be better witnesses than the in- 
 spirations of divine philosophy. 
 
 From the TimcBus* 
 
 THE CREATION OP THE WORLD 
 
 Timceus. — All men, Socrates, who have any degree of 
 right feeling, at the beginning of every enterprise, 
 whether small or great, always call upon God. And we, 
 too, who are going to discourse of the nature of the uni- 
 verse, how created or how existing without creation, if 
 we be not altogether out of our wits, must evoke the 
 aid of gods and goddesses and pray that our words may 
 be acceptable to them and consistent with themselves. 
 Let this, then, be our invocation of the gods, to which I 
 add an exhortation of myself to speak in such manner as 
 will be most intelligible to you, and will most accord 
 with my own intent. 
 
 First then, in my judgment, we must make a dis- 
 tinction and ask, What is that which always is and has 
 no becoming; and what is that which is always becoming 
 and never is ? That which is apprehended by intelligence 
 and reason is always in the same state; but that which is 
 conceived by opinion with the help of sensation and 
 without reason, is always in a process of becoming and 
 perishing and never really is. Now everything that 
 becomes or is created must of necessity be created by 
 some cause, for without a cause nothing can be created. 
 The work of the creator, whenever he looks to the un- 
 changeable and fashions the form and nature of his work 
 after an unchangeable pattern, must necessarily be made 
 
 8 From the TimoBus, beginning page 27 C, Jcwett's translation. 
 
PLATO 161 
 
 fair and perfect; but when he looks to the created only, 
 and uses a created pattern, it is not fair or perfect. Was 
 the heaven then or the world, whether called by this or 
 by any other more appropriate name — assuming the 
 name, I am asking a question which has to be asked at 
 the beginning of an inquiry about anything — was the 
 world, I say, always in existence and without beginning ? 
 or created, and had it a beginning? Created, I reply, 
 being visible and tangible and having a body, and 
 therefore sensible; and all sensible things are»apprehended 
 by opinion and sense and are in a process of creation and 
 created. Now that which is created must, as we affirm, 
 of necessity be created by a cause. But the father and 
 maker of all this universe is past finding out ; and even if 
 we found him, to tell of him to all men would be im- 
 possible. And there is still a question to be asked about 
 him : Which of the patterns had the artificer in view when 
 he made the world, — the pattern of the unchangeable, 
 or of that which is created ? If the world be indeed fair 
 and the artificer good, it is manifest that he must have 
 looked to that which is eternal; but if what cannot be 
 said without blasphemy is true, then to the created 
 pattern. Every one will see that he must have looked 
 to the eternal; for the world is the fairest of creations 
 and he is the best of causes. And having been created 
 in this way, the world has been framed in the likeness 
 of that which is apprehended by reason and mind and is 
 imchangeable, and must therefore of necessity, if this 
 is admitted, be a copy of something. Now it is all- 
 important that the beginning of everything should be 
 according to nature. And in speaking of the copy and 
 the original we may assume that words are akin to the 
 matter which they describe; when they relate to the 
 
162 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 lasting and permanent and intelligible, they ought to be 
 lasting and unalterable, and, as far as their nature allows, 
 irrefutable and immovable — nothing less. But when 
 they express only the copy or likeness and not the 
 eternal things themselves, they need only be likely and 
 analogous to the real words. As being is to becoming, 
 so is truth to belief. If then, Socrates, amid the many 
 opinions about the gods and the generation of the uni- 
 verse, we are not able to give notions which are alto- 
 gether and in every respect exact and consistent with 
 one another, do not be surprised. Enough, if we adduce 
 probabilities as likely as any others; for we must remem- 
 ber that I who am the speaker, and you who are the 
 judges, are only mortal men, and we ought to accept 
 the tale which is probable and inquire no further. 
 
 Soc. — Excellent, Timseus; and we will do precisely as 
 you bid us. The prelude is charming, and is already 
 accepted by us — may we beg of you to proceed to the 
 strain ? 
 
 Tim. — Let me tell you then why the Creator made 
 this world of generation. He was good, and the good can 
 never have any jealousy of anything. And being free 
 from jealousy, he desired that all things should be as like 
 himself as they could be. This is in the truest sense the 
 origin of creation and of the world, as we shall do well 
 in believing on the testimony of wise men : God desired 
 that all things should be good and nothing bad, so far as 
 this was attainable. Wherefore also finding the whole 
 visible sphere not at rest, but moving in an irregular and 
 disorderly fashion, out of disorder he brought order, 
 considering that this was in every way better than the 
 other. Now the deeds of the best could never be or have 
 been other than the fairest; and the Creator, reflecting 
 
PLATO 163 
 
 on the things which are by nature visible, found that no 
 unintelligent creature taken as a whole was fairer than 
 the intelligent taken as a whole; and that intelligence 
 could not be present in anything which was devoid of 
 soul. For which reason, when he was framing the 
 universe, he put intelligence in soul, and soul in body, 
 that he might be the creator of a work which was by 
 nature fairest and best. Wherefore, using the language 
 of probability, we may say that the world became a 
 living creature truly endowed with soul and intelligence 
 by the providence of God. 
 
 This being supposed, let us proceed to the next stage: 
 In the likeness of what animal did the Creator make 
 the world ? It would be an unworthy thing to liken it to 
 any nature which exists as a part only; for nothing can 
 be beautiful which is like any imperfect thing ; but let us 
 suppose the world to be the very image of that whole 
 of which all other animals both individually and in their 
 tribes are portions. For the original of the universe 
 contains in itself all intelligible beings, just as this world 
 comprehends us and all other visible creatures. For the 
 Deity, intending to make this world like the fairest and 
 most perfect of intelligible beings, framed one visible 
 animal comprehending within itself all other animals 
 of a kindred nature. Are we right in saying that there 
 is one world, or that they are many and infinite? There 
 must be one only, if the created copy is to accord with 
 the original. For that which includes all other in- 
 telligible creatures cannot have a second or companion; 
 in that case there would be need of another Uving being 
 which would include both, and of which they would be 
 parts, and the likeness would be more truly said to 
 resemble not them, but that other which included them. 
 
164 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 In order then that the world might be sohtary, like the 
 perfect animal, the Creator made not two worlds or an 
 infinite number of them; but there is and ever will be 
 one only-begotten and created heaven. 
 
 Such was the whole plan of the eternal God about the 
 god that was to be, to whom for this reason he gave a 
 body, smooth and even, having a surface in every direc- 
 tion equidistant from the centre, a body entire and 
 perfect, and formed out of perfect bodies. And in the 
 centre he put the soul, which he diffused throughout the 
 body, making it also to be the exterior environment of it; 
 and he made the universe a circle moving in a circle, 
 one and solitary, yet by reason of its excellence, able to 
 converse with itself, and needing no other friendship or 
 acquaintance. Having these purposes in view he created 
 the world a blessed god. 
 
 Now God did not make the soul after the body, 
 although we are speaking of them in this order; for having 
 brought them together he would never have allowed that 
 the elder should be ruled by the younger; but this is a 
 random manner of speaking which we have, because 
 somehow we ourselves too are very much under the 
 dominion of chance. Whereas he made the soul in origin 
 and excellence prior to and older than the body, to be 
 the ruler and mistress, of whom the body was to be the 
 subject. And he made her out of the following elements 
 and on this wise : Out of the indivisible and unchangeable, 
 and also out of that which is divisible and has to do with 
 material bodies, he compounded a third and inter- 
 mediate kind of essence, partaking of the nature of the 
 same and of the other, and this compound he placed 
 accordingly in a mean between the indivisible and the 
 divisible and material. He took the three elements of 
 
PLATO 165 
 
 the same, the other and the essence, and mingled them 
 into one form, compressing by force the reluctant and 
 unsociable nature of the other into the same. When he 
 had mingled them with the essence and out of the three 
 made one, he again divided this whole into as many 
 portions as was fitting, each portion being a compound 
 of the same, the other, and the essence. 
 
 Now when the Creator had framed the soul according 
 to his will, he formed within her the corporeal universe, 
 and brought the two together, and united them centre 
 to centre. The soul, infused everywhere from the centre 
 to the circumference of heaven, of which also she is the 
 external envelopment, herself turning in herself, began 
 a divine beginning of never-ceasing and rational life 
 enduring throughout all time. The body of heaven is 
 visible, but the soul is invisible, and partakes of reason 
 and harmony, and being made by the best of intellectual 
 and everlasting natures, is the best of things created. 
 
 When the Father and Creator saw the creature which 
 he had made moving and living, the created image of the 
 eternal gods, he rejoiced, and in his joy determined to 
 make the copy still more like the original; and as this 
 was eternal, he sought to make the universe eternal, 
 so far as might be. Now the nature of the ideal being 
 was everlasting, but to bestow this attribute in its ful- 
 ness upon a creature was impossible. Wherefore he 
 resolved to have a moving image of eternity, and when 
 he set in order the heaven, he made this image eternal 
 but moving according to number, while eternity itseK 
 rests in imity; and this image we call time. For there 
 were no days and nights and months and years before 
 the heaven was created, but when he constructed the 
 heaven he created them also. They are all parts of 
 
166 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 time, and the past and future are created species of time, 
 which we unconsciously but wrongly transfer to the 
 eternal essence; for we say that he 'Svas/' he '4s," he 
 'Vill be," but the truth is that ''is" alone is properly at- 
 tributed to him, and that "was" and "will be" are only 
 to be spoken of becoming in time, for they are motions, 
 but that which is immovably the same cannot become 
 older or younger by time, nor ever did or has become, or 
 hereafter will be, older or younger, nor is subject at all 
 to any of those states which affect moving and sensible 
 things and of which generation is the cause. These are 
 the forms of time, which imitates eternity and revolves 
 according to a law of number. Moreover, when we say 
 that what has become is become and what becomes is 
 becoming, and that what will become is about to become 
 and that the non-existent is non-existent — all these are 
 inaccurate modes of expression. But perhaps this whole 
 subject will be more suitably discussed on some other 
 
 occasion 
 
 This new beginning of our discussion of the universe 
 requires a fuller division than the former; for then we 
 made two classes, now a third must be revealed. The 
 two sufficed for the former discussion; one, which we 
 assumed, was a pattern intelligible and always the same; 
 and the second was only the imitation of the pattern, 
 generated and visible. There is also a third kind which 
 we did not distinguish at the time, conceiving that the 
 two would be enough. But now the argument seems 
 to require that we should set forth in words another kind, 
 which is difficult of explanation and dimly seen. What 
 nature are we to attribute to this new kind of being? 
 We reply, that it is the receptacle, and in a manner the 
 nurse, of all generation. . . . 
 
PLATO 167 
 
 WHY IT IS NECESSARY TO ASSUME EXISTENCE OF THE IDEAS 
 
 Do all those things which we call self -existent exist? 
 or are only those things which we see, or in some way 
 perceive through the bodily organs, truly existent, and 
 nothing whatever besides them? And is all that which 
 we call an intelligible essence nothing at all, and only a 
 name? Here is a question which we must not leave 
 unexamined or undetermined, nor must we affirm too 
 confidently that there can be no decision; neither must 
 we interpolate in our present long discourse a digression 
 equally long, but if it is possible to set forth a great prin- 
 ciple in a few words, that is just what we want. 
 
 Thus I state my view: If mind and true opinion are 
 two distinct classes, then I say that there certainly are 
 these self-existent ideas unperceived by sense, and ap- 
 prehended only by the mind; if, however, as some say, 
 true opinion differs in no respect from mind, then every- 
 thing that we perceive through the body is to be re- 
 garded as most real and certain. But we must affirm 
 them to be distinct, for they have a distinct origin and 
 are of a different nature; the one is implanted in us by 
 instruction, the other by persuasion; the one is always 
 accompanied by true reason, the other is without reason ; 
 the one cannot be overcome by persuasion, but the other 
 can; and lastly, every man may be said to share in true 
 opinion, but mind is the attribute of the gods and of 
 very few men. Wherefore also we must acknowledge 
 that there is one kind of being which is always the same, 
 imcreated and indestructible, never receiving anything 
 into itself from without, nor itself going out to any other, 
 but invisible and imperceptible by any sense, and of 
 which the contemplation is granted to intelligence only. 
 And there is another nature of the same name with it, 
 
168 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 and like to it, perceived by sense, created, always in 
 motion, becoming in place and again vanishing out of 
 place, which is apprehended by opinion and sense. And 
 there is a third nature, which is space, and is eternal, 
 and admits not of destruction and provides a home for all 
 created things, and is apprehended without the help of 
 sense, by a kind of spurious reason, and is hardly real; 
 which we beholding as in a dream, say of all existence 
 that it must of necessity be in some place and occupy 
 a space, but that what is neither in heaven nor in earth 
 has no existence. Of these and other things of the same 
 kind, relating to the true and waking reality of nature, 
 we have only this dream-like sense, and we are unable to 
 cast off sleep and determine the truth about them. For 
 an image, since the reality, after which it is modelled, 
 does not belong to it, and it exists ever as the fleeting 
 shadow of some other, must be inferred to be in another 
 [i. e., in space], grasping existence in some way or other, 
 or it could not be at all. But true and exact reason, 
 vindicating the nature of true being, maintains that 
 while two things [i. e., the image and space] are different 
 they cannot exist one of them in the other and so be one 
 and also two at the same time. 
 
 From the Parmenides^ 
 
 PUZZLES PRESENTED BY THE THEORY OF IDEAS 
 
 'I understand," said Socrates, ''and quite accept 
 your account. But tell me, Zeno, do you not further 
 think that there is an idea of likeness in itself, and an- 
 other idea of unlikeness, which is the opposite of likeness, 
 and that in these two you and I, and all other things to 
 which we apply the term many, participate — things which 
 9 From the Parmenides, Jowett's translation, beginning p. 128 E. 
 
PLATO 169 
 
 participate m likeness become in that degree and manner 
 like; and so far as they participate in unlikeness become 
 in that degree unhke, or both hke and unlike in the degree 
 in which they participate in both? And may not all 
 things partake of both opposites, and be both like and 
 unlike, by reason of this participation? Where is the 
 wonder? Now if a person could prove the absolute like 
 to become unhke, or the absolute unlike to become like, 
 that, in my opinion, would indeed be a wonder; but there 
 is nothing extraordinary, Zeno, in showing that the things 
 which only partake of hkeness and unhkeness experience 
 both. Nor, again, if a person were to show that all is one 
 by partaking of one, and at the same time many by 
 partaking of many, w^ould that be very astonishing? But 
 if he were to show me that the absolute one was many, 
 or the absolute many one, I should be truly amazed. 
 And so of all the rest : I should be surprised to hear that 
 the natures or ideas themselves had these opposite 
 qualities; but not if a person wanted to prove of me that 
 I was many and also one. T\Tien he wanted to show that 
 I was many he would say that I have a right and a left 
 side, and a front and a back, and an upper and a lower 
 half, for I cannot deny that I partake of multitude; 
 when, on the other hand, he wants to prove that I am 
 one, he will say, that we who are here assembled are 
 seven, and that I am one, and partake of the one. In 
 both instances he proves his case. So again, if a person 
 shows that such things as wood, stones, and the like, 
 being many are also one, we admit that he shows the co- 
 existence of the one and many, but he does not show 
 that the many are one or the one many; he is uttering 
 not a paradox but a truism. If, however, as I just now 
 suggested, some one were to abstract simple notions of 
 
170 SOLTKUE BUUK IN ANCJIENI rHIL080PH\ 
 
 like, unlike, one, many, rest, motion, and similar ideas, 
 and then to show that these admit of admixtm-e and 
 separation in themselves, I should be very much as- 
 tonished. This part of the argument appears to be 
 treated by you, Zeno, in a very spirited manner; but, as 
 I was saying, I should be far more amazed if any one 
 found in the ideas themselves which are apprehended by 
 reason, the same puzzle and entanglement which you 
 have shown to exist in visible objects.'' 
 
 While Socrates was speaking, Pythodorus thought that 
 Parmenides and Zeno were not altogether pleased at the 
 successive steps of the argument; but still they gave the 
 closest attention, and often looked at one another, and 
 smiled as if in admiration of him. When he had finished, 
 Parmenides expressed their feelings in the following 
 words : 
 
 ''Socrates," he said, ''I admire the bent of your mind 
 toward philosophy; tell me now, was this your own dis- 
 tinction between ideas in themselves and the things 
 which partake of them ? and do you think that there is an 
 idea of likeness apart from the likeness which we possess, 
 and of the one and many, and of the other things which 
 Zeno mentioned? " 
 
 ''I think that there are such ideas," said Socrates. 
 
 Parmenides proceeded: ''And would you also make 
 absolute ideas of the just and the beautiful and the good, 
 and of all that class? " 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I should." 
 
 "And would you make an idea of man apart from us 
 and from all other human creatures, or of fire and water?" 
 
 "I am often undecided, Parmenides, as to whether I 
 ought to include them or not." 
 
 "And would you feel equally undecided, Socrates, 
 
PLATO 171 
 
 about things of which the mention may provoke a smile? 
 — I mean such things as hair, mud, dirt, or anything 
 else which is vile and paltry; would you suppose that 
 each of these has an idea distinct from the actual objects 
 with which we come into contact, or not?" 
 
 '^Certainly not," said Socrates; ^Visible things like 
 these are such as they appear to us, and I am afraid that 
 there would be an absurdity in assuming any idea of 
 them, although I sometimes get disturbed, and begin to 
 think that there is nothing without an idea; but then 
 again, when I have taken up this position, I run away, 
 because I am afraid that I may fall into a bottomless pit 
 of nonsense, and perish; and so I return to the ideas of 
 which I was just now speaking, and occupy myself with 
 them." 
 
 ''Yes, Socrates," said Parmenides; ''that is because 
 you are still young; the time will come, if I am not mis- 
 taken, when philosophy will have a firmer grasp of you, 
 and then you will not despise even the meanest things; 
 at your age, you are too much disposed to regard the 
 opinions of men. But I should like to know whether 
 you mean that there are certain ideas of which all other 
 things partake, and from which they derive their names; 
 that similars, for example, become similar, because they 
 partake of similarity; and great things become great, 
 because they partake of greatness; and that just and 
 beautiful things become just and beautiful because they 
 partake of justice and beauty?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly," said Socrates, "that is my meaning." 
 
 "Then each individual partakes either of the whole of 
 the idea or else of a part of the idea ? Can there be any 
 other mode of participation?" 
 
 "There cannot be," he said. 
 
172 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 'Then do you think that the whole idea is one, and 
 yet, being one, is in each one of the many?" 
 
 ''Why not, Parmenides? " said Socrates. 
 
 "Because one and the same thing will exist as a whole 
 at the same time in many separate individuals, and will 
 therefore be in a state of separation from itself." 
 
 "Nay, but the idea may be hke the day which is one 
 and the same in many places at once, and yet continuous 
 with itself ; in this way each idea may be one and the same 
 in all at the same time." 
 
 "I like your way, Socrates, of making one in many 
 places at once. You mean to say, that if I were to 
 spread out a sail and cover a number of men, there would 
 be one whole including many — is not that your mean- 
 ing?" 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 "And would you say that the whole sail includes each 
 man, or part of it only, and different parts different 
 men?" 
 
 "The latter." 
 
 "Then, Socrates, the ideas themselves will be divisible, 
 and things which participate in them will have a part of 
 them only and not the whole idea existing in each of 
 them?" 
 
 "That seems to follow." 
 
 "Then would you like to say, Socrates, that the one 
 idea is really divisible and yet remains one?" 
 
 "Certainly not," he said. 
 
 "Suppose that you divide absolute greatness, and that 
 of the many great things, each one is great in virtue of a 
 portion of greatness less than absolute greatness — is that 
 conceivable?" 
 
 "No." 
 
PLATO 173 
 
 ^^Or will each equal thing, if possessing some small 
 portion of equality less than absolute equality, be equal 
 to some other thing by virtue of that portion only?" 
 
 ^Impossible.'' 
 
 ^'Or suppose one of us to have a portion of smallness; 
 this is but a part of the small, and therefore the ab- 
 solutely small is greater; if the absolutely small be 
 greater, that to which the part of the small is added will 
 be smaller and not greater than before." 
 
 ''How absurd!" 
 
 'Then in what way, Socrates, will all things participate 
 in the ideas, if they are unable to participate in them 
 either as parts or wholes?" 
 
 "Indeed," he said, "you have asked a question which 
 is not easily answered." 
 
 "Well," said Parmenides, "and what do you say of 
 another question?" 
 
 "What question?" 
 
 "I imagine that the way in which you are led to 
 assume one idea of each kind is as follows: You see a 
 nimiber of great objects, and when you look at them 
 there seems to you to be one and the same idea (or 
 nature) in them all; hence you conceive of greatness as 
 one." 
 
 "Very true," said Socrates. 
 
 "And if you go on and allow your mind in like manner 
 to embrace in one view the idea of greatness and of great 
 things which are not the idea, and to compare them, will 
 not another greatness arise, which will appear to be the 
 source of all these?" 
 
 "It would seem so." 
 
 "Then another idea of greatness now comes into view 
 over and above absolute greatness, and the individuals 
 
174 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 which partake of it; and then another, over and above all 
 these, by virtue of which they will all be great, and so 
 each idea instead of being one will be infinitely mul- 
 tiphed." 
 
 ^'But may not the ideas," asked Socrates, ''be thoughts 
 only, and have no proper existence except in our minds, 
 Parmenides? For in that case each idea may still be 
 one. and not experience this infinite multipH cation." 
 
 ''And can there be individual thoughts which are 
 thoughts of nothing?" 
 
 "Impossible," he said. 
 
 "The thought must be of something ?'' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Of something which is or which is not?" 
 
 "Of something which is." 
 
 "Must it not be of a single something, which the 
 thought recognizes as attaching to all, being a single 
 form or nature?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And will not the something which is apprehended as 
 one and the same in all, be an idea?" 
 
 "From that, again, there is no escape." 
 
 "Then," said Parmenides, "if you say that everything 
 else participates in the ideas, must you not say either 
 that everything is made up of thoughts, and that all 
 things think; or that they are thoughts but have no 
 thought?" 
 
 "The latter view, Parmenides, is no more rational than 
 the previous one. In my opinion, the ideas are, as it 
 were, patterns fixed in nature, and other things are Uke 
 them, and resemblances of them — ^what is meant by the 
 participation of other things in the ideas, is really as- 
 similation to them." 
 
PLATO 175 
 
 ''But if," said he, "the individual is Uke the idea, must 
 not the idea also be like the individual, in so far as the 
 individual is a resemblance of the idea? That which is 
 (•ike, cannot be conceived of as other than the like of like." 
 
 "Impossible." 
 
 "And when two things are alike, must they not partake 
 i:f the same idea?" 
 
 "They must." 
 
 "And will not that of which the two partake, and which 
 makes them ahke, be the idea itself?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Then the idea cannot be like the individual, or the 
 individual like the idea; for if they are alike, some 
 further idea of likeness will always be coming to light, 
 and if that be like anything else, another; and new ideas 
 will be always arising, if the idea resembles that which 
 partakes of it?" 
 
 "Quite true." 
 
 "The theory, then, that other things participate in the 
 ideas by resemblance, has to be given up, and some other 
 mode of participation devised?" 
 
 "It would seem so." 
 
 "Do you see then, Socrates, how great is the difficulty 
 of affirming the ideas to be absolute?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed." 
 
 "And, further, let me say that as yet you only under- 
 stand a small part of the difficulty which is involved if 
 you make of each thing a single idea, parting it off from 
 other things." 
 
 "What difficulty?" he said. 
 
 "There are many, but the greatest of all is this: If an 
 opponent argues that these ideas, being such as we say 
 they ought to be, must remain unknown, no one can 
 
176 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 prove to him that he is wrong, unless he who denies 
 their existence be a man of great abiUty and knowledge, 
 and is willing to follow a long and laborious demonstra- 
 tion; he will remain unconvinced, and still insist that 
 they cannot be known." 
 
 ''What do you mean, Parmenides?" said Socrates. 
 
 'In the first place, I think, Socrates, that you, or any 
 one who maintains the existence of absolute essences, will 
 admit that they cannot exist in us." 
 
 "No," said Socrates; "for then they would be no longer 
 absolute." 
 
 "True," he said; "and therefore when ideas are what 
 they are in relation to one another, their essence is 
 determined by a relation among themselves, and has 
 nothing to do with the resemblances, or whatever they 
 are to be termed, which are in our sphere and from which 
 we receive this or that name when we partake of them. 
 And the things which are within our sphere and have the 
 same names with them, are likewise only relative to one 
 another, and not to the ideas which have the same 
 names with them, but belong to themselves and not to 
 them." 
 
 "What do you mean?" said Socrates. 
 
 "I may illustrate my meaning in this way,'' said 
 Parmenides: "A master has a slave; now there is noth- 
 ing absolute in the relation between them, which is 
 simply a relation of one man to another. But there is 
 also an idea of mastership in the abstract, which is 
 relative to the idea of slavery in the abstract. These 
 natures have nothing to do with us, nor we with them; 
 they are concerned with themselves only, and we with 
 ourselves. Do you see my meaning? " 
 
 "Yes," said Socrates, "I quite see your meaning." 
 
PLATO 177 
 
 ^'And will not knowledge — I mean absolute knowledge 
 — answer to absolute truth?" 
 
 ^^Certainly/' 
 
 ''And each kind of absolute knowledge will answer to 
 each kind of absolute being?" 
 
 'Tes." 
 
 ''But the knowledge which we have, will answer to the 
 truth which we have; and again, each kind of knowledge 
 which we have, will be a knowledge of each kind of being 
 which we have ?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "But the ideas themselves, as you admit, we have not, 
 and cannot have?" 
 
 "No, we cannot." 
 
 "And the absolute natures or kinds are known severally 
 by the absolute idea of knowledge? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And we have not got the idea of knowledge ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then none of the ideas are known to us, because we 
 have no share in absolute knowledge?" 
 
 "I suppose not." 
 
 "Then the nature of the beautiful in itself, and of the 
 good in itself, and all other ideas which we suppose to 
 exist absolutely, are unknown to us?" 
 
 "It would seem so." 
 
 "I think that there is a stranger consequence still." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "Would you, or would you not say, that absolute 
 knowledge, if there is such a thing, must be a far more 
 exact knowledge than our knowledge; and the same of 
 beauty and of the rest?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
178 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ''And if there be such a thing as participation in 
 absolute knowledge, no one is more likely than God to 
 have this most exact knowledge?" 
 
 ''Certainly.'' 
 
 "But then, will God, having absolute knowledge, have 
 a knowledge of human things?" 
 
 "^Vhynot?" 
 
 "Because, Socrates," said Parmenides, "we have ad- 
 mitted that the ideas are not valid in relation to human 
 things; nor human things in relation to them; the rela- 
 tions of either are limited to their respective spheres." 
 
 "Yes, that has been admitted." 
 
 "And if God has this perfect authority, and perfect 
 knowledge. His authority cannot rule us, nor His 
 knowledge know us, or any human thing; just as our 
 authority does not extend to the gods, nor our knowledge 
 know anything which is divine, so by parity of reason 
 they, being gods, are not our masters, neither do they 
 know the things of men." 
 
 "Yet, surely," said Socrates, "to deprive God of 
 knowledge is monstrous." 
 
 "These, Socrates," said Parmenides, "are a few, and 
 only a few of the difficulties in which we are involved if 
 ideas really are and we determine each one of them to be 
 an absolute unity. He who hears what may be said 
 against them will deny the very existence of them — and 
 even if they do exist, he will say that they must of 
 necessity be unknown to man; and he will seem to have 
 reason on his side, and as we were remarking just now, 
 will be very difficult to convince; a man must be gifted 
 with very considerable ability before he can learn that 
 everything has a class and an absolute essence; and still 
 more remarkable will he be who discovers all these things 
 
PLATO 179 
 
 for himself, and having thoroughly investigated them is 
 able to teach them to others." 
 
 "1 agree with you, Parmenides," said Socrates; ''and 
 what you say is very much to my mind." 
 
 "And yet, Socrates," said Parmenides, ''if a man, 
 fixing his attention on these and the like difficulties, does 
 away with ideas of things and will not admit that every 
 individual thing has its own determinate idea which is 
 always one and the same, he will have nothing on which 
 his mind can rest; and so he will utterly destroy the 
 power of reasoning, as you seem to me to have par- 
 ticularly noted." 
 
 "Very true," he said. 
 
 "But then, what is to become of philosophy? Whither 
 shall we turn, if the ideas are unknown?" 
 
 "I certainly do not see my way at present." 
 
 "Yes," said Parmenides; "and I think that this arises, 
 Socrates, out of your attempting to define the beautiful, 
 the just, the good, and the ideas generally, without 
 sufficient previous training." 
 
XIII 
 
 VLATO—iContinued) 
 
 From The Republic 
 
 THE NATURE OF VIRTUE 
 
 'TelP me, do you think there is such a thing as a 
 horse's function?" 
 
 '1 do." 
 
 ''Would you, then, describe the function of a horse, or 
 of anything else whatever, as that work, for the ac- 
 complishment of which it is either the sole or the best 
 instrument?" 
 
 "1 do not understand." 
 
 "Look at it this way. Can you see with anything 
 besides eyes?" 
 
 ''Certainly not." 
 
 "Can you hear with anything besides ears?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then should we not justly say that seeing and hearing 
 are the functions of these organs?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly." 
 
 "Again, you might cut off a vine shoot with a carving 
 knife, or chisel, or many other tools?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 "But with no tool, I imagine, so well as with the 
 pruning knife made for the purpose." 
 
 1 Plato's Republic, Book I. p. 352 E. The translations from The 
 Republic included in this section are all taken from the version of 
 Davies and Vaughan. 
 
 180 
 
PLATO 181 
 
 "True.'' 
 
 "Then shall we not define pruning to be the function 
 of the pruning knife?" 
 
 '^By all means." 
 
 ''Now then, I think, you will better understand what 
 I wished to learn from you just now, when I asked 
 whether the function of a thing is not that work for the 
 accomphshment of which it is either the sole or the best 
 instrument?" 
 
 'T do understand, and I believe that this is in every 
 case the function of a thing." 
 
 ''Very well: do you not also think that everything 
 which has an appointed function has also a proper 
 virtue? Let us revert to the same instances; we say that 
 the eyes have a function?" 
 
 "They have." 
 
 "Then have the eyes a virtue also?" 
 
 "They have." 
 
 "And the ears: did we assign them a function?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then have they a virtue also?" 
 
 "They have." 
 
 "And is it the same with all other things?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 "Attend then: Do you suppose that the eyes could 
 discharge their own function well if they had not their 
 own proper virtue — that virtue being replaced by a 
 vice?" 
 
 "How could they? You mean, probably, if sight is 
 replaced by bUndness." 
 
 "I mean, whatever their virtue be; for I am not come 
 to that question yet. At present I am asking whether 
 it is through their own peculiar virtue that things per- 
 
182 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 form their proper functions well, and through their own 
 peculiar vice that they perform them ill?" 
 
 ''You cannot be wrong in that." 
 
 "Then if the ears lose their own virtue, will they 
 execute their functions ill?" 
 
 ''Certainly." 
 
 "May we include all other things under the same 
 proposition?" 
 
 "I think we may." 
 
 "Come, then, consider this point next. Has the soul 
 any function which could not be executed by means of 
 anything else whatsoever? For example, could we in 
 justice assign superintendence and government, delibera- 
 tion, and the like, to anything but the soul, or should we 
 pronounce them to be pecuHar to it?" 
 
 "We could ascribe them to nothing else." 
 
 "Again, shall we declare life to be a function of the 
 soul?'' 
 
 "Decidedly." 
 
 "Do we not also maintain that the soul has a virtue?" 
 
 "We do." 
 
 "Then can it ever so happen, Thrasymachus, that the 
 soul will perform its functions well when destitute of its 
 own peculiar virtue, or is that impossible?" 
 
 "Impossible." 
 
 "Then a bad soul must needs exercise authority and 
 superintendence ill, and a good soul must do all these 
 things well." 
 
 THE FOUR CARDINAL VIRTUES 
 
 "What 2 at the commencement we laid down as a 
 imiversal rule of action, when we were founding our 
 
 2 Plato's Republic, Book IV. 433 A. 
 
PLATO 183 
 
 state, this, if I mistake not, or some modification of it, 
 is justice. I think we affirmed, if you recollect, and 
 frequently repeated, that every individual ought to have 
 some one occupation in the state, which should be that 
 to which his natural capacity was best adapted." 
 
 ''We did say so." 
 
 "And again, we have often heard people say, that to 
 mind one's own business, and not be meddlesome, is 
 justice; and we have often said the same thing ourselves." 
 
 ''We have said so." 
 
 "Then it would seem, my friend, that to do one's own 
 business, in some shape or other, is justice. Do you 
 know whence I infer this?" 
 
 '^No; be so good as to tell me." 
 
 "I think that the remainder left in the state, after 
 eliminating the qualities which we have considered, I 
 mean temperance, and courage, and wisdom, must be 
 that which made their entrance into it possible, and 
 which preserves them there so long as they exist in it. 
 Now we affirmed that the remaining quality, when three 
 out of the four were found, would be justice. ..." 
 
 "Here then," I proceeded, " after a hard struggle, we 
 have, though with difficulty, reached the land; and we 
 are pretty well satisfied that there are corresponding 
 divisions, equal in number, in a state, and in the soul of 
 every individual." 
 
 "True." 
 
 "Then does it not necessarily follow that, as and 
 whereby the state was wise, so and thereby the in- 
 dividual is wise?" 
 
 '^Without doubt it does." 
 
 '^And that as and whereby the individual is brave, so 
 and thereby is the state brave; and that everything 
 
184 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 conducing to virtue which is possessed by the one, finds 
 its counterpart in the other?" 
 
 ''It must be so." 
 
 'Then we shall also assert, I imagine, Glaucon, that a 
 man is just, in the same way in which we found the state 
 to be just." 
 
 "This too is a necessary corollary." 
 
 "But surely we have not allowed ourselves to forget, 
 that what makes the state just, is the fact of each of the 
 three classes therein doing its own work." 
 
 "No; I think we have not forgotten this." 
 
 "We must bear in mind, then, that each of us also, 
 if his inward faculties do severally their proper work, 
 will, in virtue of that, be a just man, and a doer of his 
 proper work." 
 
 "Certainly, it must be borne in mind." 
 
 "Is it not then essentially the province of the rational 
 principle to command, inasmuch as it is wise, and has to 
 exercise forethought in behalf of the entire soul, and the 
 province of the spirited principle to be its subject and 
 ally?" 
 
 "Yes, certainly." 
 
 "And will not the combination of music and gymnastic 
 bring them, as we said, into unison ; elevating and foster- 
 ing the one with lofty discourses and scientific teachings, 
 and lowering the tone of the other by soothing address, 
 till its wildness has been tamed by harmony and 
 rhythm?" 
 
 "Yes, precisely so." 
 
 "And so these two, having been thus trained, and 
 having truly learned their parts and received a real 
 education, will exercise control over the concupiscent 
 principle, which in every man forms the largest portion 
 
PLATO 185 
 
 of the soul, and is by nature most insatiably covetous. 
 And they will watch it narrowly, that it may not so 
 batten upon what are called the pleasures of the body 
 as to grow large and strong, and forthwith refuse to do 
 its proper work, and even aspire to absolute dominion 
 over the classes which it has no right according to its 
 kind to govern, thus overturning fundamentally the life 
 of aU/' 
 
 '^Certainly they will." 
 
 ''And would not these two principles be the best 
 qualified to guard the entire soul and body against 
 enemies from without; the one taking counsel, and the 
 other fighting its battles, in obedience to the gov- 
 erning power, to whose designs it gives effect by its 
 bravery?'' 
 
 'True.'' 
 
 "In like manner, I think, we call an individual brave, 
 in virtue of the spirited element of his nature, when this 
 part of him holds fast, through pain and pleasure, the 
 instructions of the reason as to what is to be feared, and 
 what is not." 
 
 "Yes, and rightly." 
 
 "And we call him wise, in virtue of that small part 
 which reigns within him, and issues these instructions, 
 and which also in its turn contains within itself a true 
 knowledge of what is advantageous for the whole com- 
 munity composed of these three principles, and for each 
 member of it." 
 
 "Exactly so." 
 
 "Again, do we not call a man temperate, in virtue of 
 the friendship and harmony of these same principles, 
 that is to say, when the two that are governed agree with 
 that which governs in regarding the rational principle 
 
186 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 as the rightful sovereign, and set up no opposition to its 
 authority?" 
 
 '^Certainly/' he repUed; ^'temperance is nothing else 
 than this, whether in state or individual." 
 
 ' 'Lastly, a man will be just, in the way and by the 
 means which we have repeatedly described." 
 
 THE HIGHER EDUCATION LEADING UP TO THE IDEA OF THE GOOD 
 
 ''Well,3 then, this part of the subject having been 
 laboriously completed, shall we proceed to discuss the 
 questions still remaining, in what way, and by the help 
 of what pursuits and studies, we shall secure the presence 
 of a body of men capable of preserving the constitution 
 unimpaired, and what must be the age at which these 
 studies are severally undertaken?" 
 
 ''Let us do so, by all means." 
 
 "I have gained nothing," I continued, "by my old 
 scheme of omitting the troublesome questions involved 
 in the treatment of the women and children, and the 
 appointment of the magistrates ; which I was induced to 
 leave out from knowing what odium the perfectly correct 
 method would incur, and how difficult it w^ould be to 
 carry into effect. Notwithstanding all my precautions, 
 the moment has now arrived when these points must be 
 discussed. It is true the question of the women and 
 children has been already settled, but the inquiry con- 
 cerning the magistrates must be pursued quite afresh. 
 In describing them, we said, if you recollect, that, in 
 order to place their patriotism beyond the reach of sus- 
 picion, they must be tested by pleasure and by pain, and 
 proved never to have deserted their principles in the 
 midst of toil and danger and every vicissitude of fortune, 
 'Plato's Republic, Book VI. p. 502 D. 
 
PLATO 187 
 
 on pain of forfeiting their position if their powers of 
 endurance fail; and that whoever comes forth from the 
 trial without a flaw, like gold tried in the fire, must be 
 appointed to ofl^ce, and receive, during life and after 
 death, privileges and rewards. This was pretty nearly 
 the drift of our language, which, from fear of awakening 
 the question now pending, turned aside and hid its 
 face." 
 
 ''Your account is quite correct," he said; ^'I remember 
 perfectly." 
 
 ''Yes, my friend, I shrank from making assertions 
 which I have since hazarded; but now let me venture 
 upon this declaration, that we must make the most 
 perfect philosophers guardians." 
 
 ''We hear you," he repUed. 
 
 "Now consider what a small supply of these men you 
 will, in all probability, find. For the various members 
 of that character, which we described as essential to 
 philosophers, will seldom grow incorporate: in most 
 cases that character grows disjointed." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "You are aware that persons endowed with a quick 
 comprehension, a good memory, sagacity, acuteness, 
 and their attendant qualities, do not readily grow up to 
 be at the same time so noble and lofty-minded, as to 
 consent to live a regular, calm, and steady life: on the 
 contrary, such persons are drifted by their acuteness 
 hither and thither, and all steadiness vanishes from their 
 life." 
 
 "True." 
 
 "On the other hand, those steady and invariable 
 characters, whose trustiness makes one anxious to 
 employ them, and who in war are slow to take alarm, 
 
188 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 behave in the same way when pursuing their studies; 
 that is to say, they are torpid and stupid, as if they were 
 benumbed, and are constantly dozing and yawning, 
 whenever they have to toil at anything of the kind." 
 
 'That is true." 
 
 ''But we declare that, unless a person possesses a pretty 
 fair amount of both qualifications, he must be debarred 
 all access to the strictest education, to honor, and to 
 government." 
 
 "We are right." 
 
 "Then do you not anticipate a scanty supply of such 
 characters?" 
 
 "Most assuredly I do." 
 
 "Hence we must not be content with testing their 
 behavior in the toils, dangers, and pleasures, which we 
 mentioned before ; but we must go on to try them in ways 
 which we then omitted, exercising them in a variety of 
 studies, and observing whether their character will be 
 able to support the highest subjects, or whether it will 
 flinch from the trial, like those who flinch under other 
 circumstances." 
 
 "No doubt it is proper to examine them in this way. 
 But pray which do you mean by the highest subjects?" 
 
 "I presume you remember, that, after separating the 
 soul into three specific parts, we deduced the several 
 natures of justice, temperance, fortitude, and wisdom?" 
 
 "Why, if I did not remember, I should deserve not to 
 hear the rest of the discussion." 
 
 "Do you also remember the remark which preceded 
 that deduction?" 
 
 "Pray, what was it?" 
 
 "We remarked, I believe, that to obtain the best 
 possible view of the question, we should have to take a 
 
PLATO 189 
 
 different and a longer route, which would bring us to a 
 thorough insight into the subject: still that it would be 
 possible to subjoin a demonstration of the question, 
 flowing from our previous conclusions. Thereupon you 
 said that such a demonstration would satisfy you; and 
 then followed those investigations which, to my own 
 mind, were deficient in exactness; but you can tell me 
 whether they contented you." 
 
 'Well, to speak for myself, I thought them fair in 
 point of measure; and certainly the rest of the party 
 held the same opinion." 
 
 '^But, miy friend, no measure of such a subject, which 
 falls perceptibly short of the truth, can be said to be 
 quite fair, for nothing imperfect is a measure of any- 
 thing: though people sometimes fancy that enough has 
 been done, and that there is no call for further in- 
 vestigation." 
 
 ''Yes," he said, "that is a very common habit, and 
 arises from indolence." 
 
 "Yes, but it is a habit remarkably undesirable in the 
 guardian of a state and its laws." 
 
 "So I should suppose." 
 
 "That being the case, my friend, such a person must go 
 round by that longer route, and must labor as devotedly 
 in his studies as in his bodily exercises. Otherwise, as 
 we were saying just now, he will never reach the goal of 
 that highest science, which is most peculiarly his own." 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed, "are not these the highest? 
 Is there still something higher than justice and those 
 other things which we have discussed?" 
 
 "Even so," I replied; "and here we must not con- 
 template a rude outline, as we have been doing: on the 
 contrary, we must be satisfied with nothing short of the 
 
190 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 most complete elaboration. For would it not be ridiculous 
 to exert one's self on other subjects of small value, taking 
 all imaginable pains to bring them to the most exact 
 and spotless perfection; and at the same time to ignore 
 the claim of the highest subjects to a corresponding 
 exactitude of the highest order?" 
 
 'The sentiment is a very just one. But do you sup- 
 pose that any one would let you go without asking what 
 that science is which you call the highest, and of what it 
 treats?" 
 
 ''Certainly not," I replied; "so put the question your- 
 self. Assuredly you have heard the answer many a 
 time; but at this moment either you have forgotten it, 
 or else you intend to find me employment by raising 
 objections. I incline to the latter opinion; for you have 
 often been told that the essential Form of the Good (?5 rod 
 aya6ov IBea) is the highest object of science, and that this 
 essence, by blending with just things and all other created 
 objects, renders them useful and advantageous. And at 
 this moment you can scarcely doubt that I am going to 
 assert this, and to assert, besides, that we are not suffi- 
 ciently acquainted with this essence. And if so, — if, I 
 say, we know everything else perfectly, without knowing 
 this, — you are aware that it will profit us nothing; just as 
 it would be equally profitless to possess everything with- 
 out possessing what is good. Or do you imagine it would 
 be a gain to possess all possessible things, with the single 
 exception of things good; or to apprehend every con- 
 ceivable object, without apprehending what is good, — 
 in other words, to be destitute of every good and beautiful 
 conception?" 
 
 "Not I, believe me." 
 
 "Moreover, you doubtless know besides, that the chief 
 
PLATO 191 
 
 good is supposed by the multitude to be pleasure, — by 
 the more enlightened, insight?" 
 
 ''Of course I know that." 
 
 ''And you are aware, my friend, that the advocates 
 of this latter opinion are unable to explain what they 
 mean by insight, and are compelled at last to explain 
 it as insight into that which is good." 
 
 "Yes, they are in a ludicrous difficulty." 
 
 "They certainly are: since they reproach us with 
 ignorance of that which is good, and then speak to us the 
 next moment as if we knew what it was. For they tell 
 us that the chief good is insight into good, assuming 
 that we understand their meaning, as soon as they have 
 uttered the term 'good.' " 
 
 "It is perfectly true." 
 
 "Again: are not those, whose definition identifies 
 pleasure with good, just as much infected with error as 
 the preceding? For they are forced to admit the ex- 
 istence of evil pleasures, are they not?" 
 
 "Certainly they are." 
 
 "From which it follows, I should suppose, that they 
 must admit the same thing to be both good and evil. 
 Does it not?" 
 
 "Certainly it does." 
 
 "Then is it not evident that this is a subject often and 
 severely disputed?" 
 
 "Doubtless it is." 
 
 "Once more: is it not evident, that though many 
 persons would be ready to do and seem to do, or to 
 possess and seem to possess, what seems just and 
 beautiful, without really being so; yet, when you come 
 to things good, no one is content to acquire what only 
 seems such; on the contrary, everybody seeks the reality, 
 
192 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 and semblances are here, if nowhere else, treated with 
 universal contempt ?'' 
 
 '^Yes, that is quite evident.'^ 
 
 "This good, then, which every soul pursues, as the end 
 of all its actions, divining its existence, but perplexed 
 and unable to apprehend satisfactorily its nature, or to 
 enjoy that steady confidence in relation to it which it 
 does enjoy in relation to other things, and therefore 
 doomed to forfeit any advantage which it might have 
 derived from those same things; — are we to maintain that, 
 on a subject of such overwhelming importance, the bhnd- 
 ness we have described is a desirable feature in the 
 character of those best members of the state in whose 
 hands everything is to be placed?" 
 
 "Most certainly not.'' 
 
 "At any rate, if it be not known in what way just 
 things and beautiful things come to be also good, I 
 imagine that such things will not possess a very valuable 
 guardian in the person of him who is ignorant on this 
 point. And I surmise that none will know the just and 
 the beautiful satisfactorily till he knows the good." 
 
 "You are right in your surmises." 
 
 "Then will not the arrangement of our constitution be 
 perfect, provided it be overlooked by a guardian who is 
 scientifically acquainted with these subjects?" 
 
 " Unquestionably it will." 
 
 THE IDEA OF THE GOOD AS THE SOURCE OF TRUTH AND OP 
 REALITY 
 
 "Pray,"* Socrates, do you assert the chief good to be 
 
 science or pleasure or something different from either?" 
 
 "Ho, ho, my friend! I saw long ago that you would 
 
 * Plato's Republic, p. 506 B. 
 
PLATO 193 
 
 certainly not put up with the opinionjg of other people 
 on these subjects.'' 
 
 '^Why, Socrates, it appears to me to be positively 
 wrong in one who has devoted so much time to these 
 questions, to be able to state the opinions of others, 
 without being able to state his own." 
 
 ^'Well," I said, ''do you think it right to speak with 
 an air of information on subjects on which one is not 
 well informed?" 
 
 ''Certainly not with an air of information; but I think 
 it right to be wilUng to state one's opinion for what it is 
 worth." 
 
 "Well, but have you not noticed that opinions divorced 
 from science are all ill-favored? At the best they are 
 blind. Or do you conceive that those who, unaided by the 
 pure reason, entertain a correct opinion, are at all superior 
 to blind men, who manage to keep the straight path?" 
 
 "Not at all superior," he replied. 
 
 "Then is it your desire to contemplate objects that are 
 ill-favored, blind, and crooked, when it is in your power 
 to learn from other people about bright and beautiful 
 things?" 
 
 "I implore you, Socrates," cried Glaucon, "not to 
 hang back, as if you had come to the end. We shall be 
 content even if you only discuss the subject of the chief 
 good in the style in which you discussed justice, temper- 
 ance, and the rest." 
 
 "Yes, my friend, and I hkewise should be thoroughly 
 content. But I distrust my own powers, and I feel 
 afraid that my awkward zeal will subject me to ridicule. 
 No, my good sirs: let us put aside, for the present at any 
 rate, all inquiry into the real nature of the chief good. 
 For, methinks, it is beyond the measure of this our 
 
194 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 enterprise to find the way to what is, after all, only my 
 present opinion on the subject. But I am willing to 
 talk to you about that which appears to be an offshoot 
 of the chief good, and bears the strongest resemblance 
 to it, provided it is also agreeable to you; but if it is not, 
 I will let it alone." 
 
 ''Nay, tell us about it," he replied. ''You shall remain 
 in our debt for an account of the parent." 
 
 "I wish that / could pay, and you receive, the parent 
 sum, instead of having to content ourselves with the 
 interest springing from it. However, here I present you 
 with the fruit and scion of the essential good. Only 
 take care that I do not involuntarily impose upon you by 
 handing in a forged account of this offspring." 
 
 "We will take all the care we can; only proceed." 
 
 "I will do so, as soon as we have come to a settlement 
 together, and you have been reminded of certain state- 
 ments made in a previous part of our conversation, and 
 renewed before now again and again." 
 
 "Pray what statements?" 
 
 "In the course of the discussion we have distinctly 
 maintained the existence of a multiplicity of things that 
 are beautiful, and good, and so on." 
 
 "True, we have." 
 
 "And also the existence of an essential beauty, and an 
 essential good, and so on; — reducing all those things 
 which before we regarded as manifold, to a single form 
 and a single entity in each case, and addressing each 
 as an independent being." 
 
 "Just so." 
 
 "And we assert that the former address themselves to 
 the eye, and not to the pure reason; whereas the forms 
 address themselves to the reason, and not to the eye." 
 
PLATO 195 
 
 ^^Certainly.'^ 
 
 '^Now with what part of ourselves do we see visible 
 objects?" 
 
 ^^With the eyesight." 
 
 'In the same way we hear sounds with the hearing, 
 and perceive everything sensible with the other senses, 
 do we not?" 
 
 ^'Certainly." 
 
 'Then have you noticed with what transcendent 
 costliness the architect of the senses has wrought out 
 the faculty of seeing and being seen?" 
 
 ''Not exactly," he replied. 
 
 *'Well, then, look at it in this light. Is there any 
 other kind of thing which the ear and the voice require 
 to enable the one to hear, and the other to be heard, in 
 the absence of which third thing the one will not hear, 
 and the other will not be heard?" 
 
 "No, there is not." 
 
 "And I believe that very few, if any, of the other 
 senses require any such third thing. Can you mention 
 one that does?" 
 
 "No, I cannot." 
 
 "But do you not perceive that, in the case of vision 
 and visible objects, there is a demand for something 
 additional?" 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "Why, granting that vision is seated in the eye, and 
 that the owner of it is attempting to use it, and that color 
 is resident in the objects, still, unless there be present a 
 third kind of thing, devoted to this especial purpose, you 
 are aware that the eyesight will see nothing, and the 
 colors will be invisible." 
 
 "Pray what is the third thing to which you refer?" 
 
196 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "Of course I refer to what you call light. '^ 
 
 ''You are right." 
 
 ''Hence it appears, that of all the pairs aforesaid, the 
 sense of sight, and the faculty of being seen, are coupled 
 by the noblest link, whose nature is anything but in- 
 significant, unless light is an ignoble thing." 
 
 ''No, indeed; it is very far from being ignoble." 
 
 "To whom, then, of the gods in heaven can you refer 
 as the author and dispenser of this blessing? And 
 whose light is it that enables our sight to see so excellently 
 well, and makes visible objects appear?" 
 
 "There can be but one opinion on the subject," he 
 repKed: "your question evidently alludes to the sun." 
 
 "Then the relation subsisting between the eyesight and 
 this deity is of the following nature, is it not?" 
 
 "Describe it." 
 
 "Neither the sight itself, nor the eye, which is the seat 
 of sight, can be identified with the sun." 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "And yet, of all the organs of sensation, the eye, 
 me thinks, bears the closest resemblance to the sun." 
 
 "Yes, quite so." 
 
 "Further, is not the faculty which the eye possesses 
 dispensed to it from the sun, and held by it as something 
 adventitious?" 
 
 "Certainly it is." 
 
 "Then is it not also true, that the sun, though not 
 identical with sight, is nevertheless the cause of sight, 
 and is moreover seen by its aid?" 
 
 "Yes, quite true." 
 
 "Well then," I continued, "believe that I meant the 
 sun, when I spoke of the offspring of the chief good, be- 
 gotten by it in a certain resemblance to itself, — that is to 
 
PLATO 197 
 
 say, bearing the same relation in the visible world to 
 sight and its objects, which the chief good bears in the 
 intellectual world to pure reason and its objects." 
 
 "How so? Be so good as to explain it to me more at 
 length." 
 
 ''Are you aware, that whenever a person makes an 
 end of looking at objects, upon w^hich the light of day is 
 shedding color, and looks instead at objects colored by 
 the light of the moon and stars, his eyes grow dim and 
 appear almost blind, as if they were not the seat of dis- 
 tinct vision?" 
 
 ''I am fully aware of it." 
 
 "But whenever the same person looks at objects on 
 which the sun is shining, these very eyes, I believe, see 
 clearly, and are evidently the seat of distinct vision?" 
 
 ''Unquestionably it is so." 
 
 "Just in the same way understand the condition of the 
 soul to be as follows : Whenever it has fastened upon an 
 object, over which truth and real existence are shining, 
 it seizes that object by an act of reason, and knows it, 
 and thus proves itself to be possessed of reason: but 
 whenever it has fixed upon objects that are blent with 
 darkness, — the world of birth and death, — then it rests in 
 opinion, and its sight grows dim, as its opinions shift 
 backward and forward, and it has the appearance of 
 being destitute of reason." 
 
 "True, it has." 
 
 "Now, this pow^r, which supplies the objects of real 
 knowledge with the truth that is in them, and which 
 renders to him who knows them the faculty of knowing 
 them, you must consider to be the essential Form of 
 Good (Trjv Tou cuyadov ISeav), and you must regard it as 
 the origin of science, and of truth, so far as the latter 
 
198 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 comes within the range of knowledge: and though 
 knowledge and truth are both very beautiful things, 
 you will be right in looking upon good as something 
 distinct from them, and even more beautiful. And 
 just as, in the analogous case, it is right to regard light 
 and vision as resembling the sun, but wrong to identify 
 them with the sun; so, in the case of science and truth, 
 it is right to regard both of them as resembling good, 
 but wrong to identify either of them with good; be- 
 cause, on the contrary, the quality of the good ought 
 to have a still higher value set upon it." 
 
 'That implies an inexpressible beauty, if it not only is 
 the source of science and truth, but also surpasses them in 
 beauty; for, I presume, you do not mean by it pleasure." 
 
 ''Hush!" I exclaimed, "not a word of that. But you 
 had better examine the illustration further, as follows." 
 
 "Show me how." 
 
 "I think you will admit that the sun ministers to 
 visible objects, not only the faculty of being seen, but 
 also their vitality, growth, and nutriment, though it is 
 not itself equivalent to vitality." 
 
 "Of course it is not." 
 
 "Then admit that, in like manner, the objects of 
 knowledge not only derive from the good the gift of being 
 known, but are further endowed by it with a real and 
 essential existence; though the good, far from being 
 identical with real existence, actually transcends it in 
 dignity and power." 
 
 Hereupon Glaucon exclaimed with a very amusing air, 
 "Good heavens! what a miraculous superiority!" 
 
 "Well," I said, "you are the person to blame, because 
 you compel me to state my opinions on the subject." 
 
 "Nay, let me entreat you not to stop, till you have at 
 
PLATO 199 
 
 all events gone over again 3^our similitude of the sun, if 
 you are leaving anything out.'' 
 
 ''Well, to say the truth, I am leaving out a great deal." 
 
 'Then pray do not omit even a trifle." 
 
 "I fancy I shall leave much unsaid; however, if I can 
 help it under the circumstances, I will not intentionally 
 make any omission." 
 
 'Tray do not." 
 
 REALITY AND APPEARANCE KNOWLEDGE AND OPINION 
 
 ^'Now ^ understand that, according to us, there are two 
 powers reigning, one over an intellectual, and the other 
 over a visible region and class of objects ; — if I were to use 
 the term 'firmament' you might think I was playing on 
 the word. Well, then, are you in possession of these as 
 two kinds, — one visible, the other intellectual?" 
 
 "Yes, I am." 
 
 "Suppose you take a line divided into two unequal 
 parts, — one to represent the visible class of objects, the 
 other the intellectual, — and divide each part again into 
 two segments on the same scale. Then, if you make the 
 lengths of the segments represent degrees of distinctness 
 or indistinctness, one of the two segments of the part 
 which stands for the visible world will represent all 
 images: meaning, by images, first of all, shadows; and, 
 in the next place, reflections in water, and in close- 
 grained, smooth, bright substances, and everything of the 
 kind, if you understand me." 
 
 "Yes, I do understand." 
 
 "Let the other segment stand for the real objects cor- 
 responding to these images, — namely, the animals about 
 us, and the whole world of nature and of art." 
 
 6 Plato's Republic, p. 509 D. 
 
200 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ^Tery good." 
 
 "Would you also consent to say that, with reference to 
 this class, there is, in point of truth and untruthfulness, 
 the same distinction between the copy and the original, 
 that there is between what is matter of opinion and what 
 is matter of knowledge?" 
 
 "Certainly I should." 
 
 "Then let us proceed to consider how we must divide 
 that part of the whole line which represents the in- 
 tellectual world." 
 
 "How must we do it?" 
 
 "Thus: one segment of it will represent what the soul 
 is compelled to investigate by the aid of the segments of 
 the other part, which it employs as images, starting from 
 hypotheses, and travelUng not to a first principle, but 
 to a conclusion. The other segment will represent the 
 objects of the soul, as it makes its way from an hypothesis 
 to a first principle which is not hypothetical, imaided 
 by those images which the former division employs, and 
 shaping its journey by the sole help of real essential 
 forms." 
 
 "I have not understood your description so well as I 
 could wish." 
 
 "Then we will try again. You will understand me 
 more easily when I have made some previous observa- 
 tions. I think you know that the students of subjects 
 like geometry and calculation, assume by way of ma- 
 terials, in each investigation, all odd and even numbers, 
 figures, three kinds of angles, and other similar data. 
 These things they are supposed to know, and having 
 adopted them as hypotheses, they decline to give any 
 accoimt of them, either to themselves or to others, on 
 the assumption that they are self-evident; and, making 
 
PLATO 201 
 
 these their starting point, they proceed to travel through 
 the remainder of the subject, and arrive at last, with 
 perfect unanimity, at that which they have proposed 
 as the object of investigation." 
 
 ''I am perfectly aw^are of the fact," he replied. 
 
 'Then you also know that they summon to their aid 
 visible forms, and discourse about them, though their 
 thoughts are busy not with these forms, but with their 
 originals, and though they discourse not with a view to 
 the particular square and diameter which they draw, 
 but with a view to the absolute square and the absolute 
 diameter, and so on. For while they employ by way of 
 images those figures and diagrams aforesaid, which again 
 have their shadows and images in water, they are really 
 endeavoring to behold those abstractions which a person 
 can only see with the eye of thought." 
 
 'True." 
 
 'This, then, was the class of things which I called 
 intellectual; but I said that the soul is constrained to 
 employ hypotheses while engaged in the investigation of 
 them, — not travelling to a first principle (because it is 
 unable to step out of, and mount above, its hypotheses), 
 but using, as images, just the copies that are presented 
 by things below, — which copies, as compared with the 
 originals, are vulgarly esteemed distinct and valued 
 accordingly." 
 
 "I understand you to be speaking of the subject-matter 
 of the various branches of geometry and the kindred 
 arts." 
 
 "Again, by the second segment of the intellectual 
 world understand me to mean all that the mere reason- 
 ing process apprehends by the force of dialectic, when it 
 avails itself of hypotheses not as first principles, but as 
 
202 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 genuine hypotheses, that is to say, as stepping-stones 
 and impulses, whereby it may force its way up to some- 
 thing that is not hypothetical, and arrive at the first 
 principle of everything, and seize it in its grasp; which 
 done, it turns round, and takes hold of that which takes 
 hold of this first principle, till at last it comes down to a 
 conclusion, calling in the aid of no sensible object what- 
 ever, but simply employing abstract, seK-subsisting 
 forms, and terminating in the same." 
 
 ^'I do not understand you so well as I could wish, for I 
 believe you to be describing an arduous task; but at any 
 rate I understand that you wush to declare distinctly, 
 that the field of real existence and pure intellect, as con- 
 templated by the science of dialectic, is more certain than 
 the field investigated by what are called the arts, in which 
 hypotheses constitute first principles, which the students 
 are compelled, it is true, to contemplate with the mind 
 and not with the senses; but, at the same time, as they 
 do not come back, in the course of inquiry, to a first 
 principle, but push on from hypothetical premises, you 
 think that they do not exercise pure reason on the 
 questions that engage them, although taken in connection 
 with a first principle these questions come within the 
 domain of the pure reason. And I believe you apply 
 the term understanding, not pure reason, to the mental 
 habit of such people as geometricians, — regarding under- 
 standing as something intermediate between opinion and 
 pure reason." 
 
 ^'You have taken in my meaning most satisfactorily; 
 and I beg you will accept these four mental states, as 
 corresponding to the four segments, — namely, pure 
 reason corresponding to the highest, understanding to 
 the second, belief to the third, and conjecture to the last; 
 
PLATO 203 
 
 and pray arrange them in gradation, and believe them to 
 partake of distinctness in a degree corresponding to the 
 truth of their respective objects." 
 
 "1 understand you," said he. ''I quite agree with you, 
 and will arrange them as you desire." 
 
 THE ALLEGORY OF THE DEN SHADOWS AND REALITIES 
 
 ''Now 6 then," I proceeded to say, "go on to compare 
 our natural condition, so far as education and ignorance 
 are concerned, to a state of things hke the following. 
 Imagine a number of men living in an underground 
 cavernous chamber, with an entrance open to the light, 
 extending along the entire length of the cavern, in which 
 they have been confined, from their childhood, with 
 their legs and necks so shackled that they are obliged 
 to sit still and look straight forward, because their 
 chains render it impossible for them to turn their heads 
 round; and imagine a bright fire burning some way off, 
 above and behind them, and an elevated roadway passing 
 between the fire and the prisoners, with a low wall built 
 along it, hke the screens which conjurers put up in front 
 of their audience, and above which they exhibit their 
 wonders." 
 
 ''I have it," he replied. 
 
 ''Also figure to yourself a number of persons walking 
 behind this wall, and carrying with them statues of men, 
 and images of other animals, wrought in wood and stone 
 and all kinds of materials, together with various other ar- 
 ticles, which overtop the wall; and, as you might expect, 
 let some of the passers-by be talking, and others silent." 
 
 "You are describing a strange scene, and strange 
 prisoners." 
 
 • Plato's Republic, Book VII. p. 514 D. 
 
204 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 "They resemble us/' I replied. 'Tor let me ask you, 
 in the first place, whether persons so confined could have 
 seen anything of themselves or of each other, beyond the 
 shadows thrown by the fire upon the part of the cavern 
 facing them?" 
 
 "Certainly not, if you suppose them to have been 
 compelled all their lifetime to keep their heads unmoved." 
 
 "And is not their knowledge of the things carried past 
 them equally limited?" 
 
 "Unquestionably it is." 
 
 "And if they were able to converse with one another, 
 do you not think that they would be in the habit of giv- 
 ing names to the objects which they saw before them?" 
 
 "Doubtless they would." 
 
 "Again: if their prison-house returned an echo from 
 the part facing them, whenever one of the passers-by 
 opened his lips, to what, let me ask you, could they 
 refer the voice, if not to the shadow which was passing?" 
 
 "Unquestionably they would refer it to that." 
 
 "Then surely such persons would hold the shadows of 
 those manufactured articles to be the only realities." 
 
 "Without doubt they would." 
 
 "Now consider what would happen if the course of 
 nature brought them a release from their fetters, and a 
 remedy for their foolishness, in the following manner: 
 Let us suppose that one of them has been released, and 
 compelled suddenly to stand up, and turn his neck roimd 
 and walk with open eyes toward the light; and let us 
 suppose that he goes through all these actions with pain, 
 and that the dazzling splendor renders him incapable 
 of discerning those objects of which he used formerly to 
 see the shadows. What answer should you expect him 
 to make, if some one were to tell him that in those days 
 
PLATO 205 
 
 he was watching foolish phantoms, but that now he is 
 somewhat nearer to reaUty, and is turned toward things 
 more real, and sees more correctly; above all, if he were 
 to point out to him the several objects that are passing 
 by, and question him, and compel him to answer what 
 they are? Should you not expect him to be puzzled, 
 and to regard his old visions as truer than the objects 
 now forced upon his notice?" 
 
 ''Yes, much truer." 
 
 ''And if he were further compelled to gaze at the light 
 itself, would not his eyes, think you, be distressed, and 
 would he not shrink and turn away to the things which 
 he could see distinctly, and consider them to be really 
 clearer than the things pointed out to him?" 
 
 "Just so." 
 
 "And if some one were to drag him violently up the 
 rough and steep ascent from the cavern, and refuse to let 
 him go till he had drawn him out into the Ught of the 
 sun, would he not, think you, be vexed and indignant 
 at such treatment, and on reaching the hght, would he 
 not find his eyes so dazzled by the glare as to be in- 
 capable of making out so much as one of the objects 
 that are now called true?" 
 
 "Yes, he would find it so at first." 
 
 "Hence, I suppose, habit will be necessary to enable 
 him to perceive objects in that upper world. At first 
 he will be most successful in distinguishing shadows; 
 then he will discern the reflections of men and other 
 things in water, and afterward the realities; and after 
 this he will raise his eyes to encounter the light of the 
 moon and stars, finding it less difficult to study the 
 heavenly bodies and the heaven itself by night, than 
 the sun and the sun's light by day." 
 
206 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ''Doubtless." 
 
 ''Last of all, I imagine, he will be able to observe and 
 contemplate the nature of the sun, not as it appears in 
 water or on alien ground, but as it is in itself in its own 
 territory." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "His next step will be to draw the conclusion, that the 
 sun is the author of the seasons and the years, and the 
 guardian of all things in the visible world, and in a 
 manner the cause of all those things which he and his 
 companions used to see." 
 
 "Obviously, this will be his next step." 
 
 "What then? When he recalls to mind his first 
 habitation, and the wisdom of the place, and his old 
 fellow-prisoners, do you not think he will congratulate 
 himself on the change, and pity them?" 
 
 "Assuredly he will." 
 
 "And if it was their practice in those days to receive 
 honor and commendations one from another, and to 
 give prizes to him who had the keenest eye for a passing 
 object, and who remembered best all that used to pre- 
 cede and follow and accompany it, and from these data 
 divined most ably what was going to come next, do you 
 fancy that he will covet these prizes, and envy those 
 who receive honor and exercise authority among them? 
 Do you not rather imagine that he will feel what Homer 
 describes, and wish extremely 
 
 ' To drudge on the lands of a master, 
 Under a portionless wight,' 
 
 and be ready to go through anything, rather than 
 entertain those opinions, and live in that fashion?" 
 "For my own part," he replied, "I am quite of that 
 
PLATO 207 
 
 opinion. I believe he would consent to go through 
 anything rather than live in that way." 
 
 ''And now consider what would happen if such a man 
 were to descend again and seat himself on his old seat? 
 Coming so suddenly out of the sun, would he not find 
 his eyes bhnded with the gloom of the place?" 
 
 ''Certainly, he would." 
 
 "And if he were forced to deliver his opinion again, 
 touching the shadows aforesaid, and to enter the lists 
 against those who had always been prisoners, while his 
 sight continued dim, and his eyes unsteady, — and if this 
 process of initiation lasted a considerable time, would 
 he not be made a laughing-stock, and would it not be 
 said of him, that he had gone up only to come back again 
 with his eyesight destroyed, and that it was not worth 
 while even to attempt the ascent? And if any one 
 endeavored to set them free and carry them to the light, 
 would they not go so far as to put him to death, if they 
 could only manage to get him into their power?" 
 
 "Yes, that they would." 
 
 "Now this imaginary case, my dear Glaucon, you must 
 apply in all its parts to our former statements, by com- 
 paring the region which the eye reveals to the prison- 
 house, and the light of the fire therein to the power of the 
 sun : and if, by the upward ascent and the contemplation 
 of the upper world, you understand the mounting of the 
 soul into the intellectual region, you will hit the tendency 
 of my own surmises, since you desire to be told what 
 they are; though, indeed, God only knows whether they 
 are correct. But, be that as it may, the view which I 
 take of the subject is to the following effect: In the 
 world of knowledge, the essential Form of Good (77 rod 
 amadou IBea) is the limit of our inquiries, and can barely be 
 
208 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 perceived; but, when perceived, we cannot help conclud- 
 ing that it is in every case the source of all that is bright 
 and beautiful, — in the visible world giving birth to light 
 and its master, and in the intellectual world dispensing, 
 immediately and with full authority, truth and reason; 
 and that, whosoever would act wisely, either in private or 
 in pubHc, must set this Form of Good before his eyes." 
 
 'To the best of my power," said he, ''I quite agree with 
 you." 
 
 'That being the case," I continued, ''pray agree with 
 me on another point, and do not be surprised that those 
 who have climbed so high are unwilling to take a part in 
 the affairs of men, because their souls are ever loath to 
 desert that upper region. For how could it be other- 
 wise, if the preceding simile is indeed a correct representa- 
 tion of their case?" 
 
 "True, it could scarcely be otherwise." 
 
 "Well: do you think it a marvellous thing, that a 
 person who has just quitted the contemplation of divine 
 objects for the study of human infirmities should betray 
 awkwardness, and appear very ridiculous, when with his 
 sight still dazed, and before he has become sufficiently 
 habituated to the darkness that reigns around, he finds 
 himself compelled to contend in courts of law, or else- 
 where, about the shadows of justice, or images which 
 throw the shadows, and to enter the fists in questions 
 involving the arbitrary suppositions entertained by 
 those who have never yet had a glimpse of the essential 
 features of justice?" 
 
 "No, it is anything but marvellous." 
 
 "Right: for a sensible man will recollect that the eyes 
 may be confused in two distinct ways and from two 
 distinct causes — that is to say, by sudden transitions 
 
PLATO 209 
 
 either from light to darkness, or from darkness to Ught. 
 And, beUeving the same idea to be applicable to the soul, 
 whenever such a person sees a case in which the mind is 
 perplexed and unable to distinguish objects, he will not 
 laugh irrationally, but he will examine whether it has 
 just quitted a brighter life, and has been blinded by the 
 novelty of darkness, or whether it has come from the 
 depths of ignorance into a more briUiant life, and has 
 been dazzled by the imusual splendor; and not till then 
 will he congratulate the one upon its life and condition, 
 and compassionate the other; and if he chooses to laugh 
 at it, such laughter will be less ridiculous than that which 
 is raised at the expense of the soul that has descended 
 from the light of a higher region." 
 
 ^'You speak with great judgment." 
 
 ''Hence, if this be true, we cannot avoid adopting the 
 behef, that the real nature of education is at variance 
 with the account given of it by certain of its professors, 
 who pretend, I believe, to infuse into the mind a knowl- 
 edge of which it was destitute, just as sight might be 
 instilled nto blinded eyes." 
 
 'True; such are their pretensions." 
 
 ''Whereas, our present argimient shows us that there 
 is a faculty residing in the soul of each person, and an 
 instrument enabling each of us to learn; and that, just 
 as we might suppose it to be impossible to turn the 
 eye round from darkness to light without turning the 
 whole body, so must this faculty, or this instrument, be 
 wheeled round, in company with the entire soul, from 
 the perishing world, until it be enabled to endure the 
 contemplation of the real world and the brightest part 
 thereof, which, according to us, is the Form of Good. 
 Am I not right?" 
 
210 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 'Tou are." 
 
 ''Hence/' I coiitinued, ''this very process of revolu- 
 tion must give rise to an art, teaching in what way the 
 change will most easily and most effectually be brought 
 about. Its object will not be to generate in the person 
 the power of seeing. On the contrary, it assumes that 
 he possesses it, though he is turned in a wrong direction, 
 and does not look toward the right quarter; and its aim 
 is to remedy this defect." 
 
 "So it would appear." 
 
 "Hence, while, on the one hand, the other so-called 
 virtues of the soul seem to resemble those of the body, 
 inasmuch as they really do not preexist in the soul, 
 but are formed in it in the course of time by habit and 
 exercise; the virtue of wisdom, on the other hand, does 
 most certainly appertain, as it would appear, to a more 
 divine substance, which never loses its energy, but by 
 change of position becomes useful and serviceable, or 
 else remains useless and injurious. For you must, ere 
 this, have noticed how keen-sighted are the puny souls 
 of those who have the reputation of being clever but 
 vicious, and how sharply they see through the things 
 to which they are directed, thus proving that their 
 powers of vision are by no means feeble, though they 
 have been compelled to become the servants of wicked- 
 ness, so that the more sharply they see, the more numer- 
 ous are the evils w^hich they work." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, it is the case." 
 
 "But," I proceeded, " if from earliest childhood these 
 characters had been shorn and stripped of those leaden, 
 earth-born weights, which grow and cling to the pleasures 
 of eating and gluttonous enjojmients of a similar nature, 
 and keep the eye of the soul turned upon the things 
 
PLATO 211 
 
 below; if, I repeat, they had" been released from these 
 snares, and turned round to look at objects that are true, 
 then these very same souls of these very same men would 
 have had as keen an eye for such pursuits as they 
 actually have for those in which they are now engaged." 
 
 ''Yes, probably it would be so." 
 
 ''Once more : is it not also probable, or rather is it not a 
 necessary corollary to our previous remarks, that neither 
 those who are uneducated and ignorant of truth, nor 
 those who are suffered to linger over their education all 
 their life, can ever be competent overseers of a state, — 
 the former, because they have no single mark in life, 
 which they are to constitute the end and aim of all their 
 conduct both in private and in public; the latter, because 
 they will not act without compulsion, fancying that, 
 while yet alive, they have been translated to the islands 
 of the blest." 
 
 "That is true." 
 
 "It is, therefore, our task," I continued, "to constrain 
 the noblest characters in our colony to arrive at that 
 science which we formerly pronounced the highest, and 
 to set eyes upon the good, and to mount that ascent we 
 spoke of; and, when they have mounted and looked long 
 enough, we must take care to refuse them that liberty 
 which is at present permitted them." 
 
 "Pray what is that?" 
 
 "The liberty of staying where they are, and refusing 
 to descend again to those prisoners, or partake of their 
 toils and honors, be they mean or be they exalted." 
 
 "Then are we to do them a wrong, and make them live 
 a life that is worse than the one within their reach?" 
 
 "You have again forgotten, my friend, that the law 
 does not ask itself how some one class in a state is to live 
 
212 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 extraordinarily well. On the contrary, it tries to bring 
 about this result in the entire state; for which purpose 
 it links the citizens together by persuasion and by con- 
 straint, makes them share with one another the benefit 
 which each individual can contribute to the common 
 weal, and does actually create men of this exalted char- 
 acter in the state, not with the intention of letting them 
 go each on his own way, but with the intention of turn- 
 ing them to account in its plans for the consolidation of 
 the state." 
 
 'True," he replied; "1 had forgotten." 
 
 'Therefore reflect, Glaucon, that far from wronging 
 the future philosophers of our state, we shall only be 
 treating them with strict justice, if we put them under 
 the additional obligation of watching over their fellow- 
 citizens, and taking care of them. . . . And in this 
 way you and we shall find that the life of the state 
 is a substance, and not a phantom like the life of our 
 present states, which are mostly composed of men who 
 fight among themselves for shadows, and are at feud for 
 the administration of affairs, which they regard as a 
 great boon. Whereas I conceive the truth stands thus: 
 That city in which the destined rulers are least eager to 
 rule, will inevitably be governed in the best and least 
 factious manner, and a contrary result will ensue if the 
 rulers are of a contrary disposition. . . . But if beggars, 
 and persons who hunger after private advantages, take 
 the reins of the state, with the idea that they are privi- 
 leged to snatch advantage from their power, all goes 
 wrong. For the post of magistrate is thus made an 
 object of strife; and civil and intestine conflicts of this 
 nature ruin not only the contending parties, but also ths 
 rest of the state." 
 
PLATO 213 
 
 DIALECTIC THE COPING-STONE OF THE SCIENCES 
 
 [The allegory of the den suggests the question: How 
 is the soul drawn upward from the shifting shadows of 
 sense to the eternal world of reality? Plato, through 
 Socrates, points out that the contradictions and con- 
 fusions of our sense-impressions stimulate reflection. 
 The application of number, fixing, as it were, the " one in 
 many," begins to bring order out of chaos. The de- 
 velopment of the sciences, — arithmetic, geometry, as- 
 tronomy, — further tends to draw the soul upward to the 
 intelUgible world, and this process is finally completed 
 by dialectic, the nature and function of dialectic being 
 thus described :] 
 
 " Whenever ^ a person strives, by the help of dialectic, 
 to start in pursuit of every reality by a simple process of 
 reason, independent of all sensuous information, — never 
 flinching, imtil by an act of the pure intelligence he has 
 grasped the real nature of good, — he arrives at the very 
 end of the intellectual world, just as the last-mentioned 
 person arrived at the end of the visible world." 
 
 " Unquestionably." 
 
 "And this course you name dialectic, do you not?" 
 
 "Certainly I do." 
 
 " On the other hand, the release of the prisoners from 
 their chains, and their transition from the shadows of the 
 images to the images themselves and to the light, and 
 their ascent from the cavern into the sunshine; — and, 
 when there, the fact of their being able to look, not at 
 the animals and vegetables and the sun's light, but still 
 only at their reflections in water, which are indeed divine 
 and shadows of things real, instead of being shadows of 
 images thrown by a light which may itself be called an 
 » Plato's Republic, p. 532 A. 
 
214 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 image, when compared with the sun; — these points, I say, 
 find their counterpart in all this pursuit of the above- 
 mentioned arts, which possesses this power of elevating 
 the noblest part of the soul, and advancing it toward 
 the contemplation of that which is most excellent in the 
 things that really exist, just as in the other case the 
 clearest organ of the body was furthered to the con- 
 templation of that which is brightest in the corporeal 
 and visible region. . . . And may I not also affirm, that 
 the faculty of dialectic can alone reveal the truth to one 
 who is master of the sciences which we have just enumer- 
 ated; and that in no other way is such knowledge 
 possible?" 
 
 "Yes, on that point also you are warranted in speak- 
 ing positively." 
 
 "At any rate," I continued, "no one will contradict 
 us when we assert that there is no other method which 
 attempts systematically to form a conception of the real 
 nature of each individual thing. On the contrary, all 
 the arts, with a few exceptions, are wholly addressed 
 to the opinions and wants of men, or else concern them- 
 selves about the production and composition of bodies, 
 or the treatment of things which grow and are com- 
 pounded. And as for these few exceptions, such as 
 geometry and its accompanying sciences, which, accord- 
 ing to us, in some small degree apprehend what is real, — 
 we find that, though they may dream about real exist- 
 ence, they cannot behold it in a waking state, so long as 
 they use hypotheses which they leave unexamined, and 
 of which they can give no account. For when a person 
 assumes a first principle which he does not know, on 
 which unknown first principle depends the web of inter- 
 mediate propositions, and the final conclusion, — by what 
 
PLATO 215 
 
 possibility can such mere admissions ever constitute 
 science?" 
 
 "It is indeed impossible." 
 
 "Hence the dialectic method, and that alone, adopts 
 the following course. It carries back its hypotheses to 
 the very first principle of all, in order to establish them 
 firmly; and finding the eye of the soul absolutely buried 
 in a swamp of barbarous ignorance, it gently draws and 
 raises it upward, employing as handmaids in this work 
 of revolution the arts which we have discussed. These 
 we have often called sciences, because it is customary 
 to do so, but they require another name, betokening 
 greater clearness than opinion, but less distinctness than 
 science. On some former occasion we fixed upon the 
 term understanding to express this mental process. 
 But it appears to me to be no part of our business to 
 dispute about a name, when we have proposed to our- 
 selves the consideration of such important subjects." 
 
 "You are quite right," said he: "we only want a name 
 which when applied to a mental state shall indicate 
 clearly what phenomena it describes." 
 
 " Indeed, I am content," I proceeded, " to call as before 
 the first division science, the second understanding, the 
 third belief, and the fourth conjecture, — the two latter 
 jointly constituting opinion, and the two former in- 
 telligence. Opinion deals with the changing, intelli- 
 gence with the real; and as the real is to the changing, 
 so is intelligence to opinion ; and as intelligence is to 
 opinion, so is science to belief, and understanding to 
 conjecture. . . . 
 
 " Do you also give the title of Dialectician to the per- 
 son who takes thoughtful account of the essence of each 
 thing? And will you admit that, so far as a person has 
 
216 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 no such account to give to himself and to others, so far 
 he fails to exercise pure reason upon the subject?" 
 
 "Yes, I cannot doubt it," he replied. 
 
 " Then shall you not also hold the same language con- 
 cerning the good? Unless a person can strictly define 
 by a process of thought the essential Form of the Good, 
 abstracted from everything else ; and unless he can fight 
 his way as it were through all objections, studying to 
 disprove them not by the rules of opinion, but by those 
 of real existence; and unless in all these conflicts he 
 travels to his conclusion without making one false step 
 in his train of thought, — unless he does all this, shall you 
 not assert that he knows neither the essence of good, nor 
 any other good thing; and that any phantom of it, which 
 he may chance to apprehend, is the fruit of opinion and 
 not of science; and that he dreams and sleeps away his 
 present life, and never wakes on this side of that future 
 world, in which he is doomed to sleep forever? . . . 
 Then does it not seem to you that dialectic lies, like 
 a coping-stone, upon the top of the sciences, and that it 
 would be wrong to place any other science above it 
 because the series is now complete?" 
 
XIV 
 
 ARISTOTLE 
 
 [384-322 B.C.] 
 
 ORIGIN AND NATURE OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 It ^ was owing to wonder that men began to philos- 
 ophize in earlier times just as it is to-day, wondering at 
 first about the problems that lie close at hand, and then 
 little by little advancing to the greater perplexities, such 
 as the phenomena of the moon and sun and stars, and 
 the creation of the universe. But one who is perplexed 
 and filled with wonder feels himself to be in ignorance, 
 and so the lover of the myth is in a way the lover of 
 wisdom, for the myth too is made of marvels. And so 
 if men philosophized in order to escape ignorance it is 
 evident that they pursued wisdom just for the sake of 
 knowing, not for the sake of any advantage it might 
 bring. This is shown too by the course of events. For 
 it was only after practically all things that are necessary 
 for the comfort and convenience of life had been pro- 
 vided that this kind of knowledge began to be sought. 
 Clearly then we pursue this knowledge for the sake of no 
 extraneous use to which it may be put, but, just as we 
 call a man free who serves his own and not another's 
 will, so also this science is the only one of all the sciences 
 that is liberal, for it is the only one that exists for its own 
 sake. . . . More necessary, indeed, every other science 
 may be than this, more excellent there is noitc. 
 
 » Arist. Met. I. 2, 982 b 12. 
 217 
 
218 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 But 2 somehow the possession of this knowledge in- 
 evitably brings us to a position precisely the opposite 
 of that in which we were at the beginning of our i^i- 
 vestigations. For, as I have said, we all begin by wonder- 
 ing that things are as they are, just as marionettes, or 
 again such things as the turnings of the sun or the in- 
 commensurability of the diameter are wonderful to those 
 who do not yet understand the cause; for every one is 
 filled with astonishment on first hearing that there is any- 
 thing which cannot be measured if the unit of measure- 
 ment be made small enough. And yet in the end our 
 position is reversed, and ^^after-thinking is best," as the 
 proverb has it; and so it is in the cases before us when 
 once we reach knowledge. For nothing would so as- 
 tonish the geometrician as to discover that the diagonal 
 was commensurate with the side. 
 
 * * 
 
 Science ^ arises whenever from a mmiber of notions 
 derived from experience a universal conception is formed 
 comprising all similar cases. To have the conception 
 that when Kallias was sick of such and such a disease 
 such and such a remedy did him good, and the same of 
 Socrates and of many others taken one by one, is the 
 part of experience; but to know that it did good to all 
 such persons comprised in one and the same class, 
 afflicted with the same disease, such as inflammation, 
 or biliousness, or burning fever, is the part of science. 
 In actually achieving results experience is apparently 
 not inferior to science. On the contrary we often find 
 men of experience more successful in reaching their aim 
 than men who have the theory without the experience. 
 
 'Arist. Afe«. I. 2. 983 a 11. 
 'lb. I. 1,981 a 5. 
 
ARISTOTLE 219 
 
 The reason for this is that experience is knowledge of 
 individual cases, whereas science is knowledge of uni- 
 versal principles, and every action and every creative 
 process has to do with individual cases. For example, 
 the physician does not heal mankind, except incidentally, 
 but rather Kallias or Socrates or some other similar in- 
 dividual who happens, to be sure, also to belong to the 
 genus homo. If, then, one possesses the theory without 
 the experience, and has a knowledge of the general 
 principles, but does not know how to apply them in 
 the individual case before him, he will very often make 
 a mistake as to the cure required; for it is always the 
 individual case that is to be cured. 
 
 Nevertheless we think that knowledge and imderstand- 
 ing are properties of science rather than of experience, 
 and we hold men of science to be wiser than men of 
 experience on the ground that in every case wisdom is 
 to be ascribed to one in proportion to the extent of his 
 knowledge. And the reason why we do this is because 
 the former know the reason why, the latter do not; 
 men of experience know the fact, men of science know 
 the wherefore of the fact. . . . 
 
 In general the mark of knowledge is ability to impart 
 what one knows to others; and this is why we hold science 
 to be a higher form of knowledge than experience, men 
 of science being able, men of experience being unable 
 to impart their knowledge to others. 
 
 Fm-thermore, we do not attribute wisdom to any of 
 the senses although they are, it is true, the chief means of 
 knowing individual cases. But they do not tell us the 
 wherefore of any fact, as for example, why fire is hot, 
 but simply that it is hot. Consequently it was natural 
 that the first man who discovered any science whatso- 
 
220 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 ever that went beyond the knowledge of the senses 
 which is common to all, was the wonder and admira- 
 tion of his fellow-men, not only because there was some- 
 thing useful in his discoveries, but because they held 
 him to be a wise man and superior to his fellows. And 
 as more and more of the sciences are discovered, some 
 having to do with the necessities, others with the com- 
 forts of life, we always hold men who discovered the 
 latter to be wiser than those who discovered the former, 
 just because in their case knowledge has nothing to do 
 with utihty. Whence it came about that when all the 
 different sciences of these two sorts had been discovered 
 the sciences were discovered which have nothing to do 
 either with the pleasures or the necessities of life, and 
 first of all in those places where men had leisure. This 
 is why the mathematical sciences were developed first 
 of all in the neighborhood of Egypt, for there the priestly 
 class was left with plenty of leisure. ... All men un- 
 derstand as the object of what is called wisdom knowl- 
 edge of ultimate causes and first principles, so that, 
 as we said before, the man of experience is superior 
 in point of wisdom to the man who merely trusts his 
 senses, whatever the sense may be, and the man of science 
 is superior to the man of experience, the architect to the 
 manual laborer, theory to practice. It is evident from 
 all this that wisdom is the knowledge of causes and first 
 principles of some kind or other. 
 
 Aristotle's criticism of the theory of ideas 
 
 With ^ regard to the philosophers who introduced ideas 
 as causes we have in the first place this objection to 
 offer, that in seeking to find an explanation of the tbitigs 
 
 * Arist. Met. I. 9, 990 a 34. 
 
ARISTOTLE 221 
 
 that exist they have introduced other reaHties equal in 
 number; just as if one should try to count a number of 
 objects, and should suppose that he could not do so if the 
 number were small, but that he would have no diffi- 
 culty if he made the number larger. For the ideas are 
 practically equal in number to, — at any rate they are 
 not less than, the things for the explanation of which 
 they had recourse to the world of ideas. For every 
 individual object has its synonymous reality, and over 
 and above actual existences there are ideas of all other 
 things wherever there is a ''one in many," both in the 
 changeable things of this world and in the eternal. 
 
 The second objection we have to offer is that of all 
 the proofs which we bring forward for the existence of 
 ideas there is no real evidence; for in the case of some 
 of oiu- arguments the conclusion does not necessarily 
 follow, and in the case of others, ideas are also proved 
 to exist for things for which we do not assume the 
 existence of any ideas. For example, from the proofs 
 which are taken from the existence of the various sciences 
 there will be ideas of all things whatever which can serve 
 as the objects of knowledge; according to the argument 
 which proceeds from the ''one in many," ideas will be 
 proved to exist also in the case of negations; on the 
 ground of our thinking what has already perished there 
 will be ideas of things that have perished, for there still 
 remains a certain representation of them. 
 
 But the most serious objection of all is this: what in 
 the world do the ideas contribute to the things of sense, 
 either to those that are imperishable or to those that 
 arise and perish? For they are not the cause of any 
 motion or change in them. On the contrary they help 
 us not a whit toward the knowledge of things other than 
 
222 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 themselves (for they are not the substances of those 
 things, else they would be present in them) ; nor do they 
 explain their existence, not being present in the things 
 that participate in them. . . . 
 
 But again things other than the ideas do not arise from 
 them, at least in any of the usual meanings of that expres- 
 sion. To call the ideas ' patterns,' and to say that other 
 things ' participate ' in them, is to use words void of 
 meaning, or to talk in poetical metaphor. For what is it 
 that does the work with its eyes fixed upon the ideas as 
 patterns? It is in truth quite possible that something 
 should come into being like something else without being 
 expressly patterned after it. For instance, w^hether or 
 not Socrates actually existed a man might arise like Soc- 
 rates; and it is plain this is equally possible had the 
 existing Socrates been imperishable. 
 
 And there must be several patterns of the same thing, 
 consequently several ideas. For example, in the case of 
 man there will be a pattern ^'animal" and ''biped" as 
 well as the pattern ''man as such." 
 
 Furthermore the ideas must be patterns not only of the 
 things of sense, but also of the ideas themselves, — class, 
 for example, as a class of ideas. And so the same thing 
 will be at once pattern and image. Again it would seem 
 to be impossible that the substance should exist apart 
 from that of which it is the substance. How then if the 
 ideas are the substances of things can they exist apart 
 from them? 
 
 In the Phoedo Plato speaks as if the ideas were the 
 causes alike of existence and of coming into being. And 
 yet even if we grant the existence of ideas, still the things 
 that participate in them do not come into being unless 
 there is some cause productive of movement. Besides. 
 
ARISTOTLE 223 
 
 many other things come into being, such as a house or a 
 ring, for which we do not assume the existence of ideas. 
 This being the case it is clearly possible that other things 
 also should be or come into being through causes like 
 those operative in the cases just mentioned. 
 
 Aristotle's own view regarding the universal 
 
 That ^ it is impossible to acquire knowledge through 
 demonstration if we have no knowledge of primary 
 principles immediately known we have shown above. 
 One might; however, raise the question with regard to the 
 knowledge of these immediate principles . . . whether 
 the habits of mind that give this knowledge, not being 
 innate are developed in us, or whether they are innate 
 but have escaped our notice. On the one hand it is 
 absurd to say that we already have them, for then we 
 should be saying that we have, all unknown to us, a 
 knowledge more accurate than demonstration. If on 
 the other hand we suppose that we have to begin with 
 no such immediate principles, how should we ever know 
 or learn them unless some knowledge had preceded? 
 That would be impossible as we said above in treating 
 of demonstration. The obvious inference is that it is 
 impossible that we should already have this knowledge, 
 and equally impossible that it should be developed in us 
 if we are entirely ignorant and have no habits of mind 
 [fitting us to detect them]. We must then have some 
 such faculty, but not of such a kind as to be superior in 
 point of accuracy to the principles themselves. And 
 this faculty seems to be shared by all animals, for they 
 all have an innate critical faculty called sense-per- 
 ception. 
 
 •Arist. An. Post II. 19. 99 b 2Q 
 
224 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Without 6 the universal it is impossible to have knowl- 
 edge; but separating [the universal from the individual] 
 was the cause of all the difficulties that attended the 
 theory of ideas. * 
 
 It 7 is not necessary that, if there is to be demonstra- 
 tive truth, the ideas must exist, or some unity over and 
 above the many individual things; but it is necessary 
 that there should be some unity that may be truly 
 predicated of the many things. Otherwise there will be 
 no universal, and without the universal there would be 
 no middle term, and hence no demonstration. 
 
 * * 
 
 Unless ^ there were something over and above the 
 individual things there would be no object of reason, but 
 all things would be merely objects of sense, and con- 
 sequently there would be no knowledge of anything, un- 
 less indeed one affirm that sense-perception is knowledge. 
 
 *** 
 
 It ^ is evident then that no universals exist over and 
 above the individual objects and separate from them. 
 And those who assume the reality of ideas are right in 
 giving them such independent and separate existence 
 in so far as they are substances ; they are wrong, however, 
 in calling the unity which is predicated of many individual 
 things [such a substantial] idea. The cause of their 
 confusion is the fact that they are imable to tell us 
 what such imperishable substances are which exist over 
 and above the individual objects of sense. And so 
 they make them in form the same as the perishable 
 
 Arist. Met. XII. 9, 1086 b 8. 
 
 'Arist. An. Post. I. 11, 77 a 5. 
 
 •Arist.Me^. II. 4,999bl. 
 
 • Arist. Met. VI. 16, 1040 b 27. Cf. Psych. III. 18, 432 a 4. 
 
ARISTOTLE 225 
 
 objects of sense (for these we know), and speak of man 
 as such (avTodv6pco7ro<;), horse as such, adding to the 
 objects of sense the expression ^'as such." 
 
 It 10 is apparently impossible that any of the so-called 
 universals should exist as substance. 
 
 Of 11 sensuous substances taken individually there 
 is neither definition nor proof possible, because they 
 possess matter, and the nature of matter is such that it 
 is possible for it to be, and, also, not to be. 
 
 * * 
 
 Substance ^^ is the indwelling form or idea, and the 
 
 concrete substance consists of ideas in conjunction 
 with matter. For example, take the idea ' 'hollo wness": 
 this and the nose together give the snub nose or snub- 
 
 nosedness. * 
 
 * * 
 
 Substance i^ signifies alike substratum {viroiceifievov) , 
 and the essential notion {to tl rjv ehac) , and that which 
 consists of both, and, also, the universal. 
 
 THE FOUR CAUSES 
 
 One 1^ meaning of the word cause is the matter from 
 which anything comes into being. For example, bronze 
 is the material cause of the statue. ... A second mean- 
 ing is, form and pattern. This is the same as the essen- 
 tial notion (6 \0709 rou tl rjv elvai). ... In the third 
 place cause means the principle which produces change, 
 or puts a stop to it. For example, one who gives advice 
 
 " Arist. Met. VI. 13, 1038 b 9. 
 " lb. 15, 1039 b 29. 
 "lb. 11, 1037 a 29. 
 "lb. 13, 1038 b 2. 
 " lb. IV. 2, 1013 a 24. 
 
226 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 is cause in this sense, or the father is cause of the child; 
 . . . Finally, cause is used as meaning end or purpose, 
 i. e., as that for the sake of which anything is done. 
 For example, health is the final cause of taking a walk. 
 
 Since ^^ we find that there are several kinds of causes 
 of natural processes ... we must determine in regard 
 to them which is naturally primary, and which secondary. 
 The primary cause appears to be what we describe as 
 that for the sake of which [a thing is done], for this gives 
 the reason (X0709), and the reason is the first principle 
 alike in the case of the things that are manufactured 
 and in the case of the things that arise in the course of 
 nature. For when by means of discursive reasoning or 
 sense-perception a physician has determined for himseK 
 the nature of health, or the builder the nature of a house, 
 they give the reasons and the causes of what they do in 
 each individual case, and tell why it must be done thus 
 and so. ^*^ 
 
 First ^^ and foremost, matter when strictly defined 
 means the substratum which is the subject of generation 
 and destruction. ^*^ 
 
 1 1^ mean by matter what is not yet actually (ivepjeLa) 
 an individual object, but is such potentially {Bvpd/jL€L). 
 
 * * 
 I 1^ mean by matter as such neither a definite some- 
 thing nor a quantity nor anything else that can be 
 described by the categories which define being. 
 
 "Arist. De Part. An. I. 6, 39 b 11. 
 i« lb. De Gen. et Cor. I. 4, 320 a 2. 
 "lb. Met VII. 1, 1042 a 27. 
 18 lb. VI. 3, 1029 a 20. 
 
ARISTOTLE 227 
 
 Matter ^^ is the contingent cause of that which occurs 
 incidentally and over and above what regularly takes 
 
 place. 
 
 Aristotle's conception of god 
 
 necessity of assuming a first cause or a prime mover 
 
 Since,^^ as we have seen, substances are of three kinds, 
 two belonging to the physical world, the third being 
 immovable, we have now to speak of the last, and to 
 show that of necessity there exists some eternal im- 
 movable substance. 
 
 Of things that exist substances are the first, and if they 
 are all perishable then everything is perishable. But it 
 is impossible that there should be either beginning or end 
 of motion: it is forevermore. And the same is true of 
 time, for it is impossible that there should be either a 
 "before" or an "after" if there is no time. Motion is 
 then unceasing, just as time is, for time is either identical 
 with motion or else it is a certain property of motion. 
 And there is no motion save in space, no unceasing 
 motion save motion in a circle. If, however, there were 
 something merely possessing the power to create and to 
 impart motion, but not actually operative, still there 
 is no motion. For it is conceivable that that which 
 possesses potentiality should not be actually operative. 
 Nor are we any better off if we assume eternal substances, 
 like the "ideas" which some have assumed, unless they 
 contain some principle that is capable of bringing about 
 change. And even this would not be sufficient, nor 
 would some other substance over and above the ideas 
 accomplish the purpose; for unless this principle be 
 actually operative there will be no motion. Moreover, 
 
 19 Arist. Met. V. 2, 1027 a 14. 
 
 20 lb. XI. Ch. 6. 
 
228 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 even if it be actually operative, but if at the same time 
 its substance be but potentiality, it will not suffice; for 
 still there will be no eternal motion, for it is conceivable 
 that what potentially is should not come into being. 
 It is necessary therefore that there should be a principle 
 of such a nature that its very substance is its being 
 actually operative. Further, substances of this sort 
 must be immaterial; for they must be eternal, if anything 
 at all is eternal. They must therefore be pure actuality. 
 But here arises a difficulty: It is commonly supposed 
 that everything actual is also potential while not every- 
 thing potential is actual, from which it would follow 
 that what potentially is is prior to what actually is. 
 But if this were so not a single thing would truly exist; 
 for it is possible that a thing should have the capacity to 
 exist and at the same time not yet truly exist. To be 
 sure, if we accept the view of the theologians that all 
 things sprang from Night, or that of the physical philos- 
 ophers that all things were originally mixed together, we 
 have to face the same impossibility. For how will the 
 motion get started if there is to be no cause that is 
 actually realized? Matter will not put itself in motion. 
 It is, say, the builder's art that does this. — So, too, 
 menses and earth must be set in motion by semen and 
 seeds. — This is the reason some philosophers, like 
 Leucippus and Plato, assume an eternal actuality; for 
 they say that motion is eternal. But they do not tell 
 us why; nor do they tell us what the motion is, nor how 
 it takes place in each case, nor what causes it. The truth 
 is, nothing is set in motion by chance; there must have 
 been always some underlying cause, just as is the case 
 now; a thing is moved this way by its nature, that way 
 by force — whether of the mind or of something else. 
 
ARISTOTLE 229 
 
 Furthermore, of what sort is the primal motion? It 
 makes a vast deal of difference how we answer this 
 question. But Plato himself is not entitled to say that 
 the principle of movement is what he sometimes assumes 
 it to be, the self-mover, for he says that the soul is both 
 subsequent to, and at the same time coeval with, the 
 heavens. 
 
 To suppose that what is potential is prior to what is 
 actual is partly right and partly wrong. How this is so 
 we have explained above. That actuality is prior to 
 potentiaUty is the view of Anaxagoras, for ''mind" is 
 actual, and of Empedocles, too, with his doctrine of 
 Love and Hate, and of all those who, with Leucippus, 
 affirm that motion is eternal. If it is true that actuality 
 is prior to potentiality it follows that we must not sup- 
 pose that Chaos and Night existed for an indefinite time, 
 but rather that the same things that exist now existed 
 always, moving like a circle returning upon itself, or in 
 some other way. Now if the same world exists always in 
 the circular process there must be something that always 
 abides and that is actually operative in one and the same 
 way. But the process of coming into being and passing 
 away is possible only on the assumption that there is 
 something else that exists always and exerts its activity 
 now in this way and now in that; and so it must exert 
 its activity in one way with reference to itseK, in another 
 way with reference to something other than itself. It 
 must therefore exert its activity either with reference to 
 the primal heavens [the heaven of the fixed stars] or with 
 reference to another and a different principle. Now it 
 must of necessity be w^ith reference to the primal heavens, 
 for that in turn is cause both of its own movement and of 
 the movement of the lower heavens [i. e., the planetary 
 
230 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 region, the sun, etc.]. And so the heaven of the fixed 
 stars is superior, for it is the cause of the eternally uniform 
 motion while the lower heaven is cause of the diversity of 
 motion. Evidently both are causes of the eternally 
 diverse motion. And in this way too the different kinds 
 of motion are related to each other. What need there- 
 fore to seek for other principles ? 
 
 DIVINE REASON AS THE PRIME MOVER 
 
 Since ^i the case stands thus — and if it did not stand 
 thus all things would have to spring from Night, or 
 from Chaos, or from the non-existent — our difficulties 
 would appear to be solved. There exists [1] something 
 always moving with ceaseless motion, and its motion is 
 cyclical. This is shown too not merely by our argument 
 but also by the actual fact. Consequently the primal 
 heavens are everlasting. Furthermore there exists [2] 
 that to which these impart motion. And since that 
 which both imparts motion and has motion imparted to 
 it is in the mean position there exists also [3] something 
 which imparts motion without itself having motion im- 
 parted to it — something which is eternal, which is an 
 individual substance and wholly actual. And this is the 
 way it imparts motion. It is like the object of desire, 
 or the object of thought, for these impart motion without 
 being themselves moved. Fundamentally the object of 
 desire and the object of thought are the same. The ob- 
 ject of desire is that which appears beautiful; the object 
 of the will is primarily that which is beautiful. It is not 
 the striving that makes a thing seem good; rather we 
 strive after a thing because it seems good. It is the 
 thought that comes first. And the mind moves under 
 21 Arist. Met. XI. Ch. 7, 
 
ARISTOTLE 231 
 
 the instigation of the object of thought. But only the 
 positive series is in itself the thought series, and in this 
 series substance stands first, and substance that is pure 
 and simple and fully actual is first of all. (We must not 
 confound the simple with the one. The ''one" signifies 
 quantity, the ''simple" a kind of relation.) But surely 
 the beautiful and that which is desirable on its own 
 account belong in the same positive series, and here the 
 best, or its likeness, stands first. And that the final 
 cause belongs to the immovable order the method of 
 division makes plain; for purpose is always a purpose 
 which some subject has, and of these the one — the pur- 
 pose itself — is immovable, while the other — the purpose 
 in its relation to a subject — is not. And [this immov- 
 able final cause] draws its object unto itself as the be- 
 loved the lover; and that which is thus set in motion 
 imparts motion to all other things. 
 
 Now if anything is subject to motion it is possible for 
 it to be different from what it is. Consequently if the 
 primal actuality is the motion of the heavens, in so far 
 as it is in motion it is possible for it to be different from 
 what it is — different in position if not in substance. 
 Since, however, there is something that imparts motion, 
 being itself not subject to motion but existing in pure 
 actuality, it is impossible that it should be in any respect 
 different from what it is. The first of all changes is 
 motion in space, and, in fact, circular motion. And the 
 prime mover imparts this motion, and is therefore 
 necessarily existent, and in so far as necessarily existent, 
 nobly existent, and thus the first principle of all. (Neces- 
 sity is a term used in several senses: (1) necessity by 
 force, as contrary to natural impulse; (2) the necessity 
 of that without which the good is not; and (3) the 
 
232 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 necessity of that which cannot be otherwise, but which 
 absolutely is.) Upon such a principle then heaven and 
 nature depend. 
 
 God's life is hke that of which we catch a transient 
 glimpse when our life is at its best. Thus indeed his 
 life always is (a thing which is impossible for us), for 
 his very self-activity is bhss. And that is why we find 
 greatest pleasure in being awake, in feeling and in think- 
 ing, and in the hopes and memories that come through 
 these activities. But thinking, pure thinking, has for 
 its object that which is in itself the best, and such 
 thinking when most perfect has for its object the supreme 
 good. The intellect thinks itself in grasping the in- 
 telligible, for it becomes intelligible in laying hold upon 
 and thinking its object. Therefore, the intellect and 
 the intelligible are the same thing; for to be able to receive 
 the intelligible and the real is what we mean by intellect, 
 and the intellect actually lives in doing this. And it is 
 this actual life of the intellect, rather than the intelligible 
 as object, that seems to be the divine element in the intel- 
 lect, and pure speculative vision is what is best and most 
 enjoyable. If then God is always as well off as we are 
 now and then, how wonderful it is ! And if he is always 
 better off, it is still more wonderful. But such is the 
 fact. And life belongs to him; for the activity of the 
 mind is life, and he is that activity. Pure self-activity 
 of reason is God's most blessed and everlasting life. 
 We say that God is living, eternal, perfect; and con- 
 tinuous and everlasting life is God's, for God is eternal 
 life. 
 
 And they are wrong who, like Pythagoras and Speusip- 
 pus. hold that the most beautiful and the best are not 
 ioimd In the first cause, arguing from the fact that white 
 
ARISTOTLE 233 
 
 the first cause produces plants and animals, still it is 
 from these that the perfect plant or animal springs. 
 For the seed comes from a complete plant previously 
 existing; the seed is not first, but the complete plant. 
 Just as we should say that man is prior to the germ — 
 not the man who springs from it, but he from whom it 
 comes. 
 
 That there is then a substance which is eternal and 
 immovable arid separable from the objects of sense is 
 evident from what has been said. And it has also been 
 shown that this substance cannot have extension but is 
 without parts and indivisible. For it imparts motion 
 through endless time, and nothing hmited has un- 
 limited potentiality. Now since every magnitude is 
 either Hmited or unlimited, for the reason given God 
 cannot have limited magnitude; nor yet can he have 
 unUmited magnitude because, in a word, there is no such 
 magnitude. 
 
 And further that God is free from passion and from 
 qualitative change has also been shown, for all other 
 changes are subsequent to motion in space. Why these 
 things are so is now clear. 
 
 DIVINE REASON AND ITS OBJECT 
 
 With 22 regard to the divine reason certain problems 
 arise. For while it passes for the divinest of manifesta- 
 tions still what its nature must be in order that it should 
 be such is a question hard to answer. For if it thinks 
 of nothing wherein would lie its majesty? It were just 
 like a man asleep. On the other hand if it thinks of 
 something and that something, being different from itself, 
 controls, its thinking, it cannot be the noblest substance — 
 
 22 Arist. Met. XI. Ch. 9 
 
234 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 for in that case that which is its substance is not thinking 
 but potentiahty. And it is through actual thinking that 
 it gets its noble character. 
 
 Further, whether its substance be reason or thinking, 
 what does it think about ? Clearly, either itself or some- 
 thing else; and if something else, either always the same 
 thing, or now one thing and now another. Does it for- 
 sooth make no difference whether it thinks about what 
 is excellent or whether it simply thinks at random? Is 
 it not indeed absurd that it should be thinking dis- 
 cursively about a plurality of things? It is evident 
 therefore that it thinks about what is most divine and 
 most noble, and that it changes not, for it could change 
 only for the worse, and any motion would be already 
 such a change. 
 
 Now in the first place if the divine reason is not actual 
 but only potential thinking, it is conceivable that it 
 should find its everlastingness but toil and weariness. 
 And in the second place it is evident that then something 
 else would be nobler than reason, namely, the object of 
 reason. For thinking, and the activity of thinking, 
 would belong also to that which thinks the most ignoble 
 thoughts. And consequently, if this is to be avoided — 
 and there are some things which it is better not to see 
 than to see — then thinking as such would not be the 
 best thing. 
 
 The divine reason then, if it is the supremely excellent 
 thing, has itself for its object, and its thinking is a think- 
 ing of thinking. But science, perception, opinion, dis- 
 cursive reasoning, seem always to have something other 
 than themselves for their object and only incidentally 
 to be their own object. 
 
 Again, if there is a difference between thinking and 
 
ARISTOTLE 235 
 
 being thought, by which of the two does reason get its 
 nobiUty ? For [in the case supposed] thinking and being 
 thought are in essence not the same. However, in some 
 cases knowledge is its own object. In the case of the 
 creative sciences it is the inmiaterial substance and the 
 essential notion that is the object of knowledge; in the 
 case of the speculative sciences it is reason itself and 
 thinking. Since, then, the mind is not one thing and the 
 object of the mind another, in cases where matter is not 
 involved, the two must be identical, and thinking is one 
 with its object. 
 
 Still a puzzle remains if the object of thought is com- 
 posite, for then there might be change from part to part 
 within the whole. But the fact is everything immaterial 
 is indivisible. And just as the human mind, which has 
 for its object composite things, is related to its object 
 in favored moments — for it does not then grasp the good 
 in this or that part of its object, but rather the best in the 
 whole of it, the object in this case being something 
 different from itseK — just so the divine thinking is itself 
 relaied to itseK through all eternity. 
 
XV 
 ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 
 
 THE NATURE OF THE SOUL 
 
 We 1 will now .... attempt to determine what soul 
 is, and what is the most comprehensive definition that 
 can be given of it. 
 
 Real substance is the name which we assign one class of 
 existing things; and this real substance may be viewed 
 from several aspects, either, -first, as matter, meaning 
 by matter that which in itself is not any individual thing; 
 or, secondly, as form and specific characteristic in virtue 
 of which an object comes to be described as such and such 
 an individual; or, thirdly, as the result produced by a 
 combination of this matter and. this form. Further, 
 while matter is merely potential existence, the form is 
 perfect realization (a conception which may be taken in 
 two forms, either as resembling knowledge possessed or 
 as corresponding to observation in active exercise). 
 
 These real substances again are thought to correspond 
 for the most part with bodies, and more particularly 
 with natural bodies, because these latter are the source 
 from which other bodies are formed. Now among such 
 natural bodies, some have, others do not have life, 
 meaning here by life the process of nutrition, increase, and 
 decay from an internal principle. Thus every natural 
 
 »Arist. De An. 11. 1, 412 a 4. The passages from Aristotle's 
 Psychology which follow are all taken from Wallace's translation 
 
 236 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 237 
 
 body possessed of life would be a real substance, and a 
 substance which we may describe as composite. 
 
 Since then the body, as possessed of life, is of this 
 compound character, the body itself would not constitute 
 the soul: for body is not [like life and soul] something 
 attributed to a subject; it rather acts as the underlying 
 subject and the material basis. Thus then the soul must 
 necessarily be a real substance, as the form which de- 
 termines a natural body possessed potentially of life. 
 The reality, however, of an object is contained in its 
 perfect realization. Soul therefore will be a perfect 
 realization of a body such as has been described. Per- 
 fect realization, however, is a word used in two senses: 
 it may be understood either as an implicit state cor- 
 responding to knowledge as possessed, or as an ex- 
 plicitly exercised process corresponding to active ob- 
 servation. Here, in reference to soul, it must evidently 
 be imderstood in the former of these two senses : for the 
 soul is present with us as much while we are asleep as 
 while we are awake; and while waking resembles active 
 observation, sleep resembles the implicit though not 
 exercised possession of knowledge. Now in reference to 
 the same subject, it is the implicit knowledge of scientific 
 principles which stands prior. Soul therefore is the 
 earlier or implicit perfect realization of a natural body 
 possessed potentially of life. 
 
 Such potential life belongs to everything which is pos- 
 sessed of organs. Organs, however, we must remember, 
 is a namxe that applies also to the parts of plants, except 
 that they are altogether uncompounded. Thus the leaf 
 is the protection of the pericarp and the pericarp of the 
 fruit; while the roots are analogous to the mouth in 
 animals, both being used to absorb nourishment. Thus 
 
238 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 then, if we be required to frame some one common defini- 
 tion, which will apply to every form of soul, it would be 
 that soul is the earlier perfect realization of a natural 
 organic body. 
 
 The definition we have just given should make it 
 evident that we must no more ask whether the soul and 
 the bod}^ are one, than ask whether the wax and the 
 figure impressed upon it are one, or generally inquire 
 whether the material and that of which it is the material 
 are one; for though unity and being are used in a variety 
 of senses, their most distinctive sense is that of perfect 
 realization. 
 
 A general account has thus been given of the nature 
 of the soul: it is, we have seen, a real substance which 
 expresses an idea. Such a substance is the manifesta- 
 tion of the inner meaning of such and such a body. Sup- 
 pose, for example, that an instrument such as an axe 
 were a natural body; then its axehood or its being an axe 
 would constitute its essential nature or reality, and thus, 
 so to speak, its soul; because were this axehood taken 
 away from it, it would be no longer an axe, except in so 
 far as it might still be called by this same name. The 
 object in question, however, is as matter of fact only an 
 axe; soul being not the idea and the manifestation of the 
 meaning of a body of this kind, but of a natural body 
 possessing within itself a cause of movement and of rest. 
 
 The theory just stated should be viewed also in 
 reference to the separate bodily parts. If, for example, 
 the eye were possessed of life, vision would be its soul : 
 because vision is the reaUty which expresses the idea of 
 the eye. The eye itself, on the other hand, is merely 
 the material substratum for vision: and when this power 
 of vision fails, it no longer remains an eye, except m so 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 239 
 
 far as it is still called by the same name, just in the same 
 way as an eye carved in stone or delineated in painting 
 is also so described. Now what holds good of the part 
 must be applied to the living body taken as a whole: 
 for perception as a whole stands to the whole sensitive 
 body, as such, in the same ratio as the particiilar exercise 
 of sense stands to a single organ of sense. 
 
 The part of our definition which speaks of something 
 as ''potentially possessed of life" must be taken to mean 
 not that which has thrown off its soul, but rather that 
 which has it: the seed and the fruit is such and such a 
 body potentially. In the same way then as cutting is 
 the full reaHzation of an axe, or actual seeing the reaUza- 
 tion of the eye, so also waking may be said to be the full 
 realization of the body; but it is in the sense in which 
 vision is not only the exercise but also the imphcit 
 capacity of the eye that soul is the true realization of 
 the body. The body on the other hand is merely the 
 material to which soul gives reaUty; and just as the eye 
 is both the pupil and its vision, so also the hving animal 
 is at once the soul and body in connection. 
 
 It is not then difiicult to see that soul or certain parts 
 of it (if it naturally admit of partition) cannot be 
 separated from the body: for in some cases the soul is 
 the reaHzation of the parts of body themselves. It is, 
 however, perfectly conceivable that there may be some 
 parts of it which are separable, and this because they are 
 not the expression or realization of any particular body. 
 And indeed it is further matter of doubt whether soul 
 as the perfect realization of the body may not stand to 
 it in the same separable relation as a sailor to his boat. 
 
 This much may suffice as a description and sketch of 
 the nature of the soul. 
 
240 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 THE ANIMATE AND THE INANIMATE 
 
 It 2 may serve as a fresh beginning for our inquiry to 
 say that the animate is distinguished from the inanimate 
 or soulless by the fact of life. There are a number of 
 ways in which a thing is said to live; yet should it possess 
 only one of them — as, for example, reason, sense-per- 
 ception, local movement and rest, and further movement 
 in respect of nutrition as well as of decay and growth — 
 we say it lives. Hence it is that all plants are thought 
 to live; because they manifestly contain within them- 
 selves such a power and principle as enables them to 
 acquire growth and undergo decay in opposite directions; 
 for they do not while growing upwards not grow down- 
 wards, but they grow in both directions and on all sides, 
 and they continue to live so long as they can assimilate 
 nourishment. Now this faculty of nutrition may be 
 separated from the other functions; but in the case of 
 mortal creatures the other faculties cannot exist apart 
 from this, as indeed is evident from plants which possess 
 no other psychic power except this faculty of growth. 
 
 It is then through this principle of nutrition that life 
 is an attribute of aU living things. At the same time 
 the animal strictly so called only begins when we reach 
 sensation; for even those objects which do not move 
 themselves nor change their position but possess sensa- 
 tion are said to be animals and not merely to be living. 
 Among the senses themselves, it is touch which is the 
 fundamental attribute of all animal forms. And just ss 
 the nutritive function may exist apart from touch and 
 every form of sense, so also may touch exist without any 
 of the oth^r senses. Thus while nutritive is the name given 
 
 Arist. De An, II. 2, 413 a 20. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 241 
 
 to that part of the soul in which plants share as well as an- 
 
 imalS; all animals are found to possess the sense of touch. 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 [Life, 3 then, and sensation are what mark the animate.] 
 But there are two ways in which we may speak of that 
 by which we live and have sensation, just as also that 
 by which we know may be employed to denote either 
 knowledge or the mind, by both of which we are in the 
 habit of speaking of people as knowing. So also that by 
 which we are in health denotes on the one hand the 
 health itself, on the other hand some portion of the body, 
 or it may be the whole of it. Now of these two uses, 
 knowledge and health are what we may term the de- 
 termining form and notion and so to speak the realiza- 
 tion of the recipient faculty, in the one case of knowledge, 
 in the other of health — for the passive material which is 
 subject to modification is what is taken to be the home 
 of the manifestation of the active forces. Soul then is 
 the original and fundamental ground of all our life, of 
 our sensation and of our reasoning. It follows therefore 
 that the soul must be regarded as a sort of form and idea, 
 rather than as matter and as underlying subject. For 
 the term real substance is, as we have before remarked, 
 employed in three senses: it may denote either the 
 specific form, or the material substratum, or thirdly the 
 combination of the tw^o : and of these different aspects of 
 reahty the matter or substratum is but the potential 
 groimd, whereas the form is the perfect realization. 
 Since then it is the product of the two that is animate, 
 it cannot be that the body is the full realization or ex- 
 pression of the soul ; rather on the contrary it is the soul 
 which is the full realization of some body. 
 
 Arist. De An. II. 2, 414 a. 
 
242 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 NOURISITMENT THE FUNDAMENTAL FUNCTION; TOUCH THE FUNDA- 
 MENTAL SENSE 
 
 Of ^ the powers of soul which have been mentioned, 
 some organisms, as has been said, possess all, others 
 again a few, while a third class possesses one only. The 
 powers in question are those of nutrition, of sensation, 
 of desire, of local movement, and of reasoning. Plants 
 possess the function of nutrition only: other creatures 
 have this and also the faculty of sensation; and if this 
 latter, then they must also have the faculty of desire: 
 for desire includes appetite and passion and wish. 
 Animals, however, without exception possess one at least 
 among the senses — viz., touch: and wherever a faculty 
 of sense is present it is accompanied by a feeling of 
 pleasure and pain, and an object which is pleasant or 
 painful. But where these are present, there appetite 
 is also : for appetite is the desire of what is pleasant. 
 
 Besides, all animals have a sense for nourishment — 
 viz., touch — for it is by means of things dry and moist, 
 hot and cold, that all animals are fed: and touch is the 
 sense which directly perceives these. 
 
 THE HIGHER FACULTIES PRESUPPOSE THE LOWER 
 
 So ^ likewise animals possessed of the faculties of 
 sense sometimes have, sometimes do not have, the faculty 
 of local movement ; while finally the smallest class possess 
 also reflection and understanding. And all mortals that 
 possess the faculty of reasoning possess also all the other 
 powers, whereas those that possess each of those others 
 do not in every case possess reflection; some in fact do 
 not even possess imagination while others live by the 
 
 « Arist. De An. II. 3, 414 a. 
 »Ib. II. 3, 415 a. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 243 
 
 aid of this alone. As regards the speculative reason a 
 different account must be given. Meanwhile it is clear 
 that the special definition of each of these powers 
 separately is at the same time the most appropriate 
 account of the soul. 
 
 SENSE-PERCEPTION 
 
 The ^ general character of sense in all its forms is to 
 be found in seeing that sense-perception is that which is 
 receptive of the forms of things sensible without their 
 matter, just in the same way as wax receives the impress 
 of the seal without the iron or the gold of which it is 
 composed, and takes the figure of the gold or bronze, but 
 at the same time not as bronze or gold. 
 
 Similarly, sense receives the impress of each object 
 that possesses color, or flavor, or sound, not, however, in 
 so far as each of them is such and such a definite in- 
 dividual, but rather so far as it is of such and such a 
 general character, and relatively to its notion. An organ 
 of sense-perception then is reached so soon as any part 
 displays this power of apprehending the general character 
 of objects. And thus the organ and the faculty of sense 
 are essentially and fundamentally the same, although 
 they manifest themselves in different ways; otherwise, 
 in fact, the faculty perceiving would be as it were a sort 
 of magnitude : whereas neither the essential character of 
 perception nor the faculty of sense can be described as a 
 magnitude — rather it is a power to read the essential 
 notion of the object. 
 
 These considerations show why sentient impressions 
 in excess destroy the organ of sense. The reason is that 
 if the movement of the organ of sense be too strong, the 
 
 «Arist. De An. II. 12, 424 a. 
 
244 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 relation, which, as we have seen, sense involves, is broken 
 much in the same manner as harmony and tone become 
 discordant when the strings are violently struck. The 
 same fact explains also why plants possess no sense- 
 perception although they have a psychic element and are 
 impressed in some degree by things tangible, becoming, 
 as they do, both hot and cold. The reason is that they 
 do not possess that faculty (which sense implies) of 
 acting as a mean between extremes, and have no funda- 
 mental capacity for receiving the form only of the things 
 of sense : but that, on the contrary, at the same time as 
 they receive the form of anything, they receive the 
 matter likewise. 
 
 COGNITION 
 
 We ^ must next discuss the cognitive and thinking 
 part of soul, whether it be separated from our other 
 mental faculties or whether it is not separated physically, 
 but be so only by thought and abstraction, and inquire 
 what is the specific character of thought, and how it is 
 that at some stage or another thought begins to operate. 
 
 Thinking, we may assume, is like perception, and, 
 if so, consists in being affected by the object of thought 
 or in something else of this nature. Like sense then, 
 thought or reason must be not entirely passive, but 
 receptive of the form — that is, it must be potentially like 
 this form, but not actually identical with it: it will 
 stand, in fact, toward its objects in the same relation as 
 that in which the faculty of sense stands toward the 
 objects of perception. Reason therefore, since it thinks 
 everything, must be free from all admixture, in order 
 that, to use the phrase of Anaxagoras, it may rule the 
 ' Arist. De An. III. 4, 429 a 10. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 245 
 
 world — that is, acquire knowledge: for the adjacent light 
 of any foreign body obstructs it and ecHpses it. Its 
 very nature, then, is nothing but just this comprehensive 
 potentiality: and the reason — that is, that function 
 through which the soul is ratiocinative and frames no- 
 tions — is therefore, previously to the exercise of thought, 
 actually identical with nothing which exists. 
 
 This consideration shows how improbable it is that 
 reason should be incorporated with the bodily organism: 
 for if so, it would be of some definite character, either 
 hot or cold, or it would have some organ for its operation, 
 just as is the case with sense. But, as matter of fact, 
 reason has nothing of this character. There is truth, 
 too, in the view of those who say the soul is the source of 
 general ideas: only it is soul not as a whole, but in its 
 faculty of reason: and the forms or ideas in question 
 exist within the mind, not as endowments which we 
 already possess, but only as capacities to be developed. 
 
 The difference, however, between the impassivity of 
 the faculty of reason and of the faculty of sense is clear 
 from a consideration of the organs and the processes 
 of sense-perception. Sense, for example, is unable to 
 acquire perception from an object which is in too great 
 excess — cannot, to take an instance, perceive sound 
 from extremely loud noises, nor see nor smell anything 
 from too violent colors and odors. Reason, on the 
 contrary, when it applies itself to something extremely 
 intellectual, does not lessen but rather increases its 
 power of thinking inferior objects, the explanation being 
 that the faculty of sense is not independent of the body, 
 whereas reason is separated from it. And since reason 
 becomes each of its objects in the sense in which he who 
 is in actual possession of knowledge is described as 
 
246 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 knowing — this resulting when he can apply his knowledge 
 by himself — the reason as a developed capacity is similar 
 to what it was previously as a mere unformed faculty, 
 though not the same as what it was before it learned or 
 discovered: and it may in this final stage be said to think 
 itself. 
 
 CREATIVE REASON 
 
 The ^ same differences, however, as are found in 
 nature as a whole must be characteristic also of the soul. 
 Now in nature there is on the one hand that which acts 
 as material substratum to each class of objects, this 
 being that which is potentially all of them; on the other 
 hand, there is the element which is causal and creative 
 in virtue of its producing all things, and which stands 
 toward the other in the same relation as that in which 
 art stands toward the materials on which it operates. 
 Thus reason is, on the one hand, of such a character as to 
 become all things, on the other hand of such a nature as 
 to create all things, acting then much in the same way as 
 some positive quality, such as for instance light : for light 
 also in a way creates actual out of potential color. 
 
 This phase of reason is separate from and uncom- 
 pounded with material conditions, and, being in its 
 essential character fully and actually realized, it is not 
 subject to impressions from without: for the creative 
 is in every case more honorable than the passive, just 
 as the originating principle is superior to the matter 
 which it forms. And thus, though knowledge as an 
 actually realized condition is identical with its object, 
 this knowledge as a potential capacity is in time prior in 
 the individual, though in universal existence it is not 
 even in time thus prior to actual thought. Further, 
 « Arist. De An. III. 5, 430 a 10. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 247 
 
 this creative reason does not at one time think, at 
 another time not think [it thinks eternally]; and when 
 separated from the body it remains nothing but what it 
 essentially is; and thus it is alone immortal and eternal. 
 Of this unceasing work of thought, however, we retain 
 no memory, because this reason is unaffected by its 
 objects; whereas the receptive passive intellect (which 
 is affected) is perishable, and can really think nothing 
 without the support of the creative intellect. 
 
 REASON AND JUDGMENT 
 
 With ® regard then to the exercise of reason, the think- 
 ing of isolated single terms falls within a sphere in which 
 there is no falsity: when, on the other hand, we find 
 both falsity and truth, there we reach a certain combina- 
 tion of ideas as constituting one conception; much in the 
 same way as Empedocles said: 'Thereupon many there 
 were whose heads grew up neckless entirely," but were 
 afterward brought together by friendship. In a cor- 
 responding fashion is it that those notions which are 
 originally separate are afterwards connected, as is, for 
 instance, the case with the two notions incommensurate 
 and diagonal. Should the notions in question be, how- 
 ever, related to the past or to the future, thought then 
 adds on the idea of time to that of mere connection. 
 Falsehood, in fact, always involves combination and 
 connection : even in asserting the white to be not white 
 we bring not-white into a combination. It should be 
 added, at the same time, that all this process might be 
 described, not as combination, but rather as disjunction 
 or division. Anyhow it follows that truth or falsehood 
 is not limited to saying that "Cleon is white," but in- 
 » Arist, De An, III, 0, 430 a 26. 
 
248 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 eludes the judgment that he was or will be: and the 
 process of thus reducing our ideas into the unity of a 
 single judgment is in each case the work of reason. 
 
 REASON AND ITS OBJECTS 
 
 We ^^ will now sum up the conclusions we have made 
 about the soul. The soul, we have seen, is in a way all 
 existing things. For the objects of existence are either 
 objects of sense or objects of thought; and while science 
 is in a way identical with the objects of thought, sense 
 again is one with the objects of sense. How this comes 
 about is a point we must investigate. 
 
 Scientific thought and sense-perception thus spread 
 themselves over objects, potential sense and science 
 relating to things potential, actual to things actual. 
 Now the sensitive and the scientific faculty in the soul 
 are potentially these objects — that is to say, the objects 
 of scientific thought on the one hand, the objects of 
 sense on the other. It must be then either the things 
 themselves or their forms with which they are identical. 
 The things themselves, however, they are not: it is not 
 the stone, but simply the form of the stone, that is in the 
 soul. The soul, therefore, is like the hand: for just as 
 the hand is the instrument through which we grasp other 
 instruments, so also reason is the form through which we 
 apprehend other forms, while sense-perception is the 
 form of the objects of sense. 
 
 [The forms of reason are not, however, something 
 different from the things of sense.] As there is, accord- 
 ing to the common opinion, no object outside the 
 magnitudes of sense, it follows that the ideas of reason 
 are contained in the forms of sense, both the so-called 
 w Arist, De An. III. 8, 431 b 20. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON PSYCHOLOGY 249 
 
 abstract conceptions and the various qualities and 
 attributes that determine sensible phenomena. And 
 further, without the aid of sense-perception we never 
 come to learn or imderstand anything; and whenever 
 we consider something in the mind, we must at the same 
 time contemplate some picture of the imagination: for 
 the pictures of the imagination correspond to the im- 
 pressions of the senses, except that the former are without 
 material embodiment. 
 
 At the same time imagination is something different 
 from affirmation and negation, for it is only by a com- 
 bination of ideas that we attain to truth and falsehood. 
 But, it may be asked, in what respect will our primary 
 ideas differ from mere images of sense? And to this, 
 perhaps, we may reply that they are, as little as other 
 ideas which we frame, mere images of sense, although 
 never framed without the help of stich representative 
 images. 
 
 THE SPRINGS OF ACTION 
 
 There ^^ are, however, at least two faculties which are 
 manifestly motive — viz., desire or reason, if we regard 
 imagination as a form of reason. Frequently, in fact, 
 it is the pictures of imagination as against knowledge 
 that people follow, and among animals other than man 
 it is not thought nor ratiocination, but simply this 
 power of representing images of sense, which guides 
 them. Both then reason and desire are fitted to produce 
 and lead to local movement. The reason which is here 
 intended is that which calculates for some purpose — that 
 is, it is the practical reason, distinguished from the 
 speculative by its end. As for desire, it is always directed 
 to some object: in fact, it is the object at which desire 
 
 " Arist. De An. IIL 10, 433 a 11. 
 
250 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 aims that forms the starting-point of the practical reason, 
 although it is some particular detail which forms the 
 beginning of the action. 
 
 It is then on good grounds that people have viewed 
 as springs of action these two faculties of desire and 
 practical intellect; for the faculty of desire has itself a 
 motive force, and the intellect excites to action just in 
 so far as the object of desire suppHes it with a starting- 
 point; just as, similarly, imagination when it moves to 
 action does not do so independently of desire. 
 
 The spring of action thus resolves itself into one single 
 thing, viz., the object of desire. For if there were two 
 faculties acting as springs to action — reason on the one 
 hand, desire on the other — they would have to move in 
 virtue of some common character they shared. Now 
 reason, it is found, does not act as a spring of action in- 
 dependently of desire : for settled wish is a form of desire, 
 and when a man is led to act according to his reasonable 
 conviction he is moved also in a manner corresponding 
 to his wish. Desire, however, excites to action con- 
 trarily to reason, appetite, which so acts, being one of 
 the forms of desire. And thus, then, it would seem, 
 reason is always true and right, whereas desire and 
 imagination may be both right and not right. 
 
 It is then always the object of desire that moves to 
 action; and this is either the good or the apparent good — 
 not good, however, as a whole, but simply that form of it 
 which relates to action — that is, which is contingent and 
 admits of being other than it is. 
 
XVI 
 ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 
 
 THE SUMMUM BONUM 
 
 Every ^ art and every kind of inquiry, and likewise 
 every act and purpose, seems to aim at some good; and 
 so it has been well said that the good is that at which 
 everything aims. . . . 
 
 If then in what we do there be some end which we 
 wish for on its own account, choosing all the others as 
 means to this, but not every end without exception as a 
 means to something else (for so we should go on ad 
 infinitum, and desire would be left void and objectless), 
 this evidently will be the good or the best of all things. 
 
 And surely from a practical point of view it much 
 concerns us to know this good; for then, like archers 
 shooting at a definite mark, we shall be more likely to 
 attain what we want. . . . 
 
 We see that there are many ends. But some of these 
 are chosen only as means, as wealth, flutes, and the 
 whole class of instruments. And so it is plain that not 
 all ends are final. 
 
 But the best of all things must, we conceive, be somer 
 thing final. 
 
 If then there be only one final end, this will be what 
 we are seeking — or if there be more than one, then the 
 most final of them. 
 
 * Arist. Ethics, I. 1, 1. The passages in this section are taken from 
 Peters's translation of Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics. 
 
 251 
 
252 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Now that which is pursued as an end in itself is more 
 final than that which is pursued as means to something 
 else, and that which is never chosen as means than that 
 which is chosen both as an end in itself and as means, 
 and that is strictly final which is always chosen as an 
 end in itself and never as means. 
 
 Happiness seems more than anything else to answer 
 to this description : for we always choose it for itself, and 
 never for the sake of something else; while honor and 
 pleasure and reason, and all virtue or excellence, we 
 choose partly indeed for themselves (for, apart from any 
 result, we should choose each of them), but partly also 
 for the sake of happiness, supposing that they will help 
 to make us happy. But no one chooses happiness for 
 the sake of these things, or as a means to anything else 
 at all. 
 
 We seem to be led to the same conclusion when we 
 start from the notion of self-sufficiency. 
 
 The final good is thought to be self-sufficing (or all- 
 sufficing). In applying this term we do not regard a 
 man as an individual leading a solitary life, but we also 
 take account of parents, children, wife, and, in short, 
 friends and fellow-citizens generally, since man is 
 naturally a social being. Some limit must indeed be set 
 to this; for if you go on to parents and descendants and 
 friends of friends, you will never come to a stop. But 
 this we will consider further on: for the present we will 
 take self-sufficing to mean what by itself makes life 
 desirable and in want of nothing. - And happiness is 
 believed to answer to this description. 
 
 And further, happiness is believed to be the most 
 desirable thing in the world, and that not merely as one 
 among other good things* if it were merely one amon^ 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 253 
 
 other good things [so that other things could be added 
 to it], it is plain that the addition of the least of other 
 goods must make it more desirable: for the addition 
 becomes a surplus of good, and of two goods the greater 
 is always more desirable. 
 
 Thus it seems that happiness is something final and 
 self-sufficing, and is the end of all that man does. 
 
 But perhaps the reader thinks that though no one will 
 dispute the statement that happiness is the best thing 
 in the world, yet a still more precise definition of it is 
 needed. 
 
 TO FIND IT WE ASK, WHAT IS MAN's FUNCTION? 
 
 This will best be gained, I think, by asking, What is 
 the function of man? For as the goodness and the 
 excellence of a piper or a sculptor, or the practiser of 
 any art, and generally of those who have any function 
 or business to do, lies in that function, so man's good 
 would seem to lie in his function, if he has one. 
 
 But can we suppose that, while a carpenter, or a 
 cobbler has a fimction and a business of his own, man 
 has no business and no function assigned him by nature ? 
 Nay, surely as his several members, eye and hand and 
 foot, plainly have each its own fimction, so we must 
 suppose that man also has some function over and 
 above all these. 
 
 What then is it? 
 
 Life evidentV he has in common even with the plants, 
 but we want that|Which is peculiar to him. We must 
 exclude, thirefore^ the life of mere nutrition and growth. 
 
 Next tc this comes the Hfe of sense; but this too he 
 plainly shares with horses and cattle and all kinds of 
 a'^imals. \ 
 
254 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 There remains then the Ufe whereby he acts — the hfe 
 of his rational nature, with its two sides or divisions, one 
 rational as obeying reason, the other rational as having 
 and exercising reason. 
 
 But as this expression is ambiguous, we must be 
 understood to mean thereby the life that consists in the 
 exercise of the faculties; for this seems to be more 
 properly entitled to the name. 
 
 The function of man, then, is exercise of his vital 
 faculties [or soul] on one side in obedience to reason, and 
 on the other side with reason. 
 
 But what is called the function of a man of any 
 profession and the function of a man who is good in that 
 profession are generically the same, e. g., of a harper and 
 of a good harper; and this holds in all cases without 
 exception, only that in the case of the latter his superior 
 excellence at his work is added; for we say a harper's 
 function is to harp, and a good harper's to harp well. 
 
 Man's function then being, as we say, a kind of life — 
 that is to say, exercise of his faculties and action of 
 various kinds with reason — the good man's function is 
 to do this well and beautifully [or nobly]. 
 
 But the function of anything is done well when it is 
 done in accordance with the proper excellence of that 
 thing. 
 
 Putting all this together, then, we f nd that the good 
 of man is exercise of his faculties in accordance with 
 excellence or virtue, or, if there be more than one, in 
 accordance with the best and most complete virtue. 
 
 But there must also be a full term of years for this 
 exercise; for one swallow or one fine day does not make 
 a spring, nor does one day or any small space of time 
 make a blessed or happy man. . . . 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 255 
 
 But I think we may sa}^ that it makes na small 
 difference whether the good be conceived as chc mere 
 possession of something, or as its use — as a mere habit 
 or trained faculty, or as the exercise of that fa^culty. 
 For the habit or faculty may be present, ar.d yet issue 
 in no good result, as when a man is asleep, or in any 
 other way hindered from his function; but v/ith its ex- 
 ercise this is not possible, for it must show ItfieU in acts 
 and in good acts. And as at the Olympic games it is 
 not the fairest and strongest w^ho receive the crown, 
 but those who contend (for among these are the 
 victors), so in life, too, the winners are those who not 
 only have all the excellences, but manifest these in 
 deed. 
 
 And, further, the life of these men is in itself pleasant. 
 For pleasure is an affection of the soul, and each man 
 takes pleasure in that which he is said to love — he who 
 loves horses in horses, he who loves sight-seeing in 
 sight-seeing, and in the same way he who loves jus- 
 tice in acts of justice, and generally the lover of excel- 
 lence or virtue in virtuous acts or the manifestation of 
 excellence. 
 
 And while with most men there is a perpetual conflict 
 between the several things in which they find pleasure, 
 since these are not naturally pleasant, those who love 
 what is noble take pleasure in that which is naturally 
 pleasant. For the manifestations of excellence are 
 naturally pleasant, so that they are both pleasant to 
 them and pleasant in themselves. 
 
 Their life, then, does not need pleasure to be added to 
 it as an appendage, but contains pleasure in itself. 
 
 Indeed, in addition to what we have said, a man is 
 not good at all unless he takes pleasure in noble deeds. 
 
256 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 No one would call a man just who did not take pleasure 
 in doing justice, nor generous who took no pleasure in 
 acts of generosity, and so on. 
 
 If this be so, the manifestations of excellence will be 
 pleasant in themselves. But they are also both good 
 and noble, and that in the highest degree — at least, if 
 the good man's judgment about them is right, for this 
 is his judgment. 
 
 Happiness, then, is at once the best and noblest and 
 pleasantest thing in the world, and these are not sepa- 
 rated, as the Delian inscription would have them to be: 
 
 What is most just is noblest, health is best, 
 Pleasantest is to get your heart's desire. 
 
 For all these characteristics are united in the best 
 exercises of our faculties ; and these, or some one of them 
 that is better than all the others, we identify with 
 happiness. 
 
 But nevertheless happiness plainly requires external 
 goods, too, as we said; for it is impossible, or at least not 
 easy, to act nobly without some furniture of fortune. 
 There are many things that can only be done through 
 instruments, so to speak, such as friends and wealth 
 and political influence : and there are some things whose 
 absence takes the bloom off our happiness, as good birth, 
 the blessing of children, personal beauty; for a man is 
 not very likely to be happy if he is very ugly in person, 
 or of low birth, or alone in the world, or childless, and 
 perhaps still less if he has worthless children or friends, 
 or has lost good ones that he had. 
 
 As we said, then, happiness seems to stand in need of 
 this kind of prosperity. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 257 
 
 HOW VIRTUE IS ACQUIRED 
 
 Excellence, 2 then, being of these two kinds, intellectual 
 and moral, intellectual owes its birth and growth mainly 
 to instruction, and so requires time and experience, 
 while moral excellence is the result of habit or custom 
 (e^o?), and has accordingly in our language received a 
 name formed by a shght change from e^o?. 
 
 From this it is plain that none of the moral excellences 
 or virtues is implanted in us by nature; for that which 
 is by nature cannot be altered by training. For instance, 
 a stone naturally tends to fall downward, and you could 
 not trahi it to rise upward, though you tried to do so by 
 throwing it up ten thousand times, nor could you train 
 fu-e to move downward, nor accustom anything which 
 naturally behaves in one way to behave in any other way. 
 
 The virtues, then, come neither by nature nor against 
 nature, but nature gives the capacity for acquiring them, 
 and this is developed by training. . . . 
 
 But the virtues we acquire by doing the acts, as is the 
 case with the arts too. We learn an art by doing that 
 which we wish to do when we have learned it; we become 
 builders by building, and harpers by harping. And so 
 by doing just acts we become just, and by doing acts of 
 temperance and courage we become temperate and 
 courageous. . . . 
 
 But habits or types of character are not only produced 
 and preserved and destroyed by the same occasions and 
 the same means, but they will also manifest themselves 
 in the same circumstances. This is the case with 
 palpable things like strength. Strength is produced by 
 taking plenty of nourishment and doing plenty of hard 
 work, and the strong man, in turn, has the greatest 
 2Arist. Ethics, II. 1, 1 
 
258 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 capacity for these. And the case is the same with the 
 virtues : by abstaining from pleasure we become temper- 
 ate, and when we have become temperate we are best 
 able to abstain. And so with courage: by habituating 
 ourselves to despise danger, and to face it, we become 
 courageous; and when we have become courageous, we 
 are best able to face danger. 
 
 The pleasure or pain that accompanies the acts must 
 be taken as a test of the formed habit or character. 
 
 He who abstains from the pleasures of the body and 
 rejoices in the abstinence is temperate, while he who is 
 vexed at having to abstain is profligate; and again, he 
 who faces danger with pleasure, or, at any rate, without 
 pain, is courageous, but he to whom this is painful is a 
 coward. 
 
 For moral virtue or excellence is closely concerned 
 with pleasure and pain. It is pleasure that moves us to 
 do what is base, and pain that moves us to refrain from 
 what is noble. And therefore, as Plato says, man needs 
 to be so trained from his youth up as to find pleasure 
 and pain in the right objects. This is what sound 
 education means. . . . 
 
 Virtue, then, is a habit or trained faculty of choice, 
 the characteristic of which lies in observing the mean 
 relatively to the persons concerned, and which is guided 
 by reason, i. e., by the judgment of the prudent man. 
 
 And it is a moderation, firstly, inasmuch as it comes 
 in the middle or mean between two vices, one on the side 
 of excess, the other on the side of defect; and, secondly, 
 inasmuch as, while these vices fall short of or exceed 
 the due measure in feeling and in action, it finds and 
 chooses the mean, middling, or moderate amount. 
 
 Regarded in its essence, therefore, or according to the 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 259 
 
 definition of its nature, virtue is a moderation or middle 
 Etate, but viewed in its relation to what is best and right 
 it is the extreme of perfection. 
 
 VIRTUE AND VICE ALIKE VOLUNTARY 
 
 We ^ have seen that, while we wish for the end, we 
 deliberate upon and choose the means thereto. 
 
 Actions that are concerned with means, then, will be 
 guided by choice, and so will be voluntary. 
 
 But the acts in which the virtues are manifested are 
 concerned with means. 
 
 Therefore, virtue depends upon ourselves; and vice 
 likewise. For where it lies with us to do, it lies with us 
 not to do. Where we can say no, we can say yes. If 
 then the doing a deed, which is noble, lies with us, the 
 not doing it, which is disgraceful, lies with us; and if the 
 not doing, which is noble, lies with us, the doing, which 
 is disgraceful, also lies with us. But if the doing and 
 likewise the not doing of noble or base deeds Ues with us, 
 and if this is, as we found, identical with being good or 
 bad, then it follows that it lies with us to be worthy or 
 worthless men. 
 
 And so the saying, 
 
 None would be wicked, none would not be blessed, 
 
 seems partly false and partly true; no one indeed is 
 blessed against his will; but vice is voluntary. 
 
 If we deny this, we must dispute the statements made 
 just now, and must contend that man is not the origina- 
 tor and the parent of his actions, as of his children. 
 
 But if those statements commend themselves to us, 
 and if we are imable to trace our acts to any other 
 3 Arist. Ethics, III. 5, 1. 
 
260 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 sources than those that depend upon ourselves, then 
 that whose source is within us must itself depend upon 
 us and be voluntary. 
 
 This seems to be attested, moreover, by each one of 
 us in private life, and also by the legislators; for they 
 correct and punish those that do evil (except when it is 
 done under compulsion, or through ignorance for which 
 the agent is not responsible), and honor those that do 
 noble deeds, evidently intending to encourage the one 
 sort and discourage the other. But no one encourages 
 us to do that which does not depend on ourselves, and 
 which is not voluntary; it would be useless to be per- 
 suaded not to feel heat or pain or hunger and so on, as 
 we should feel them all the same. . . . 
 
 [To the objection that a man's character is responsible 
 for his misdeeds] we reply that men are themselves 
 responsible for acquiring such a character by a dissolute 
 life, and for being unjust or profligate in consequence of 
 repeated acts of wrong, or of spending their time in 
 drinking and so on. For it is repeated acts of a par- 
 ticular kind that give a man a particular character. 
 
 This is shown by the way in which men train them- 
 selves for any kind of contest or performance: they 
 practise continually. 
 
 Not to know, then, that repeated acts of this or that 
 kind produce a corresponding character or habit, shows 
 an utter want of sense. 
 
 Moreover, it is absurd to say that he who acts unjustly 
 does not wish to be unjust, or that he who behaves 
 profligately does not wish to be profligate. 
 
 If then a man knowingly does acts which must make 
 him unjust, he will be voluntarily unjust; but it does 
 not follow that, if he wishes it he can cease to be unjust 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 261 
 
 and be just, any more than he who is sick can, if he 
 wishes it, be whole. And it may be that he is voluntarily 
 sick, through Hving incontinently and disobeying the 
 doctor. At one time, then, he had the option not to be 
 sick, but he no longer has it now that he has thrown 
 away his health. When you have discharged a stone it is 
 no longer in your power to call it back ; but nevertheless 
 the throwing and casting away of that stone rest with 
 you; for the beginning of its flight depended upon you. 
 
 Just so the unjust or the profligate man at the begin- 
 ning was free not to acquire this character, and therefore 
 he is voluntarily unjust and profligate; but now that he 
 has acquired it, he is no longer free to put it off. 
 
 But it is not only our mental or moral vices that are 
 voluntary; bodily vices also are sometimes voluntary, 
 and then are censured. We do not censure natural ug- 
 liness, but we do censure that which is due to negligence 
 and want of exercise. And so with weakness and in- 
 firmity; we should never reproach a man who was born 
 blind, or had lost his sight in an illness or by a blow — 
 we should rather pity him; but we should all censure a 
 man who had blinded himself by excessive drinking or 
 any other kind of profligacy. 
 
 We see, then, that of the vices of the body it is those 
 that depend on ourselves that are censured, while those 
 that do not depend on ourselves are not censured. And 
 if this be so, then in other fields also those vices that are 
 blamed must depend upon ourselves. 
 
 ON FRIENDSHIP 
 
 It ^ is said that those who are blessed and self-suflicient 
 have no need of friends; for they are already supplied 
 
 »Arist. Ethics, IX. 9, 1. 
 
262 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 with good things : as self-sufficient, then they need noth- 
 ing more, while a friend is an alter ego who procures 
 for you what you cannot procure yourseK; whence the 
 saying— 
 
 *' When the gods favor you, what need of friends? " 
 
 But it seems strange, while endowing the happy man 
 with all good things, to deny him friends, which are 
 thought to be the greatest of all external goods. . . . 
 Again, it is surely absurd to make the happy man a 
 solitary being: for no one would choose to have all con- 
 ceivable good things on condition of being alone; for 
 man is a social being, and by nature adapted to share 
 his life with others. The happy man, then, must have 
 this good, since he has whatever is naturally good for 
 man. But it is obvious that it is better to live with 
 friends and good people, than with strangers and casual 
 persons. The happy man, then, must have friends. 
 
 What, then, do those who maintain the former opinion 
 mean? and in what sense are they right? Is it that the 
 generality of men think that friends means useful people? 
 Friends in this sense certainly the happy or blessed man 
 will not need, as he already has whatever is good. And, 
 again, he will have no need, or but little need, of the 
 friendship that is based on pleasure; for his life is pleasant 
 and does not require adventitious pleasure. Because he 
 does not need these kinds of friends then, people come to 
 think he does not need friends at all. 
 
 But I think we may say that this opinion is not true. 
 For we said at the outset that happiness is a certain 
 exercise of our faculties; but the exercise of our faculties 
 plainly comes to be in time, and is not like a piece of 
 property acquired once for all. But if happiness con- 
 
ARISTOTLE OX ETHICS 263 
 
 sists in living and exercising our faculties; and if the 
 exercise of the good man's faculties is good and pleasant 
 in itself, as we said at the outset; and if the sense that a 
 thing belongs to us is one of the sources of pleasure, but 
 it is easier to contemplate others than ourselves, and 
 others' acts than our own — then the acts of the good 
 men who are his friends are pleasant to the good man; 
 for both the natural sources of pleasure are united in 
 them. The happy or blessed man, then, will need such 
 friends, since he desires to contemplate acts that are 
 good and belong to him, and such are the acts of a good 
 man who is his friend. 
 
 Again, it is thought that the happy man's life must be 
 pleasant. Now, if he is solitary, life is hard for him ; for it 
 is very difficult to be continuously active by one's self, 
 but not so difficult along with others, and in relation to 
 others. With friends, then, the exercise of his faculties 
 will be more continuous, being pleasant in itself. And 
 this is what ought to be the case with the blessed man; 
 for the good man, as such, delights in acts of virtue and 
 is vexed by acts of vice, just as a musician is pleased 
 by good music and pained by bad. . . . But the good 
 man stands in the same relation to his friend as to 
 himself, for his friend is another seK: just as his own 
 existence, then, is desirable to each, so, or nearly so, is 
 his friend's existence desirable. 
 
 But existence, we found, is desirable because of the 
 feeling that one's self is good, such a feeling being 
 pleasant in itself. 
 
 The good man, then, should be conscious of the ex- 
 istence of his friend also, and this consciousness will be 
 given by living with him and by rational converse with 
 him (for this would seem to be the proper meaning of 
 
264 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 living together, when applied to man, and not merely 
 feeding in the same place, which it means when applied 
 to beasts). 
 
 Putting all this together, then, if his own existence is 
 desirable in itself to the good man, being naturally good 
 and pleasant, and if his friend's existence is also desirable 
 to him in nearly the same way, it follows that a friend is 
 a desirable thing for him. But that which is desirable 
 for him he ought to have, or in that respect he will be 
 incomplete. Our conclusion, therefore, is that he who 
 is to be happy must have good friends. 
 
 HIGHEST HAPPINESS FOUND IN THE VISION OF TRUTH 
 
 But ^ if happiness be the exercise of virtue, it is reason- 
 able to suppose that it will be the exercise of the highest 
 virtue; and that will be the virtue or excellence of the 
 best part of us. 
 
 Now, that part or faculty — call it reason or what you 
 will — which seems naturally to rule and take the lead, 
 and to apprehend things noble and divine — whether it 
 be itseK divine, or only the divinest part of us — is the 
 faculty the exercise of which, in its proper excellence, 
 will be perfect happiness. 
 
 That this consists in speculation or contemplation 
 we have already said. 
 
 This conclusion would seem to agree both with what 
 we have said above, and with known truths. 
 
 This exercise of faculty must be the highest possible; 
 for the reason is the highest of our faculties, and of all 
 knowable things those that reason deals with are the 
 highest. 
 
 Again, it is the most continuous ; for speculation can be 
 » Arist. Ethics, X. 7, 1. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 265 
 
 carried on more continuously than any kind of action 
 whatsoever. 
 
 We think, too, that pleasure ought to be one of the 
 ingredients of happiness; but of all virtuous exercises it 
 is allowed that pleasantest is the exercise of wisdom. 
 At least philosophy is thought to have pleasures that are 
 admirable in purity and steadfastness; and it is reason- 
 able to suppose that the time passes more pleasantly 
 with those who possess, than with those who are seeking 
 knowledge. 
 
 Again, what is called self-sufficiency will be most of 
 all found in the speculative life. The necessaries of life, 
 indeed, are needed by the wise man as well as by the just 
 man and the rest; but, when these have been provided 
 in due quantity, the just man further needs persons 
 towards whom, and along with whom, he may act justly; 
 and so does the temperate and the courageous man and 
 the rest ; while the wise man is able to speculate even by 
 himself, and the wiser he is the more is he able to do this. 
 He could speculate better, we may confess, if he had 
 others to help him, but nevertheless he is more self- 
 sufficient than anybody else. 
 
 Again, it would seem that this life alone is desired 
 solely for its own sake; for it yields no result beyond the 
 contemplation itself, while from all actions we get some- 
 thing more or less besides the action itseK. 
 
 Again, happiness is thought to imply leisure; for we 
 toil in order that we may have leisure, as we make war 
 in order that we may enjoy peace. . . . 
 
 This, then, will be the complete happiness of man, 
 i. e., when a complete term of days is added; for nothing 
 incomplete can be admitted into our idea of happiness. 
 
 But a life which realized this idea would be something 
 
266 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 more than human; for it would not be the expression of 
 man's nature, but of some divine element in that nature 
 — the exercise of which is as far superior to the exercise 
 of the other kind of virtue [i. e., practical or moral virtue], 
 as this divine element is superior to our compound 
 human nature. 
 
 If then reason be divine as compared with man, the 
 life which consists in the exercise of reason will also be 
 divine in comparison with human life. Nevertheless, 
 instead of listening to those who advise us as men 
 and mortals not to lift our thoughts above what is 
 human and mortal, we ought rather, as far as possible, 
 to put off our mortality and make every effort to live 
 in the exercise of the highest of our faculties ; for though 
 it be but a small part of us, yet in power and value it 
 far surpasses all the rest. 
 
 And indeed this part would even seem to constitute 
 our true self, since it is the sovereign and the better part. 
 It would be strange, then, if a man were to prefer the 
 life of something else to the life of his true self. 
 
 HOW THE END IS TO BE REALIZED 
 
 Now ^ that we have treated (sufficiently, though sum- 
 marily) of these matters, and of the virtues, and also of 
 friendship and pleasure, are we to suppose that we have 
 attained the end we proposed? Nay, surely the saying 
 holds good, that in practical matters the end is not a 
 mere speculative knowledge of what is to be done, but 
 rather the doing of it. It is not enough to know about 
 virtue, then, but we must endeavor to possess it and to 
 use it, or to take any other steps that may make us good. 
 
 Now, if theories alone were sufficient to make people 
 
 6 Arist. Ethics, X. 9, 1. 
 
ARISTOTLE ON ETHICS 267 
 
 good, they would deservedly receive many and great 
 rewards, to use the words of Theognis; but, in fact, it 
 seems that though they are potent to guide and to 
 stimulate liberal-minded young men, and though a 
 generous disposition, with a sincere love of what is 
 noble, may by them be opened to the influence of virtue, 
 yet they are powerless to turn the mass of men to good- 
 ness. For the generality of men are naturally apt to 
 be swayed by fear rather than by reverence, and to 
 refrain from evil rather because of the pimishment that 
 it brings than because of its own foulness. For under 
 the guidance of their passions they pursue the pleasures 
 that suit their nature and the means by which those 
 pleasures may be obtained, and avoid the opposite pains, 
 while of that which is noble and truly pleasant they have 
 not even a conception, as they have never tasted it. 
 
 What theories or arguments, then, can bring such men 
 as these to order? Surely it is impossible, or at least 
 very difficult, to remove by any argument what has long 
 been ingrained in the character. For my part, I think 
 we must be well content if we can get some modicum of 
 virtue when all the circumstances are present that seem 
 to make men good. 
 
 Now, what makes men good is held by some to be 
 nature, by others habit [or training], by others in- 
 struction. 
 
 As for the goodness that comes by nature, it is plain 
 that it is not within our control, but is bestowed by some 
 divine agency on certain people who truly deserve to be 
 called fortunate. 
 
 As for theory or instruction, I fear that it cannot 
 avail in all cases, but that the hearer's soul must be 
 prepared by training it to feel delight and aversion on 
 
268 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 the right occasions, just as the soil must be prepared if 
 the seed is to thrive. For if he hves under the sway of 
 his passions, he will not listen to the arguments by 
 which you would dissuade him, nor even understand 
 them. And when he is in this state, how can you change 
 his mind by argument? To put it roundly, passion 
 seems to yield to force only, and not to reason. The 
 character, then, must be already formed, so as to be in 
 some way akin to virtue, loving what is noble and hating 
 what is base. 
 
 But to get right guidance from youth up in the road 
 of virtue is hard, unless we are brought up under suitable 
 laws ; for to live temperately and regularly is not pleasant 
 to the generality of men, especially to the young. Our 
 nurture, then, should be prescribed by law, and our 
 whole way of life; for it will cease to be painful as we get 
 accustomed to it. And I venture to think that it is not 
 enough to get proper nurture and training when we are 
 young, but that as we ought to carry on the same way 
 of life after we are grown up, and to confirm these habits, 
 we need the intervention of the law in these matters 
 also, and indeed, to put it roundly, in our whole life. 
 For the generality of men are more readily swayed by 
 compulsion than by reason, and by fear of punishment 
 than by desire for what is noble. . . . 
 
 Now, the paternal rule has not the requisite force or 
 power of compulsion, nor has the rule of any individual, 
 unless he be a king or something like one; but the law has 
 a compulsory power, and at the same time is a rational 
 ordinance proceeding from a kind of prudence or reason. 
 And whereas we take offence at individuals who oppose our 
 inclinations, even though their opposition is right, we do 
 not feel aggrieved when the law bids us do what is right. 
 
XVII 
 
 THE STOICS t 
 
 THE PARTS OF PHILOSOPHY THE CRITERION OF TRUTH 
 
 \ The 1 Stoics said that wisdom was a knowledge of 
 
 / things human and divine, and that philosophy was the 
 
 practice of an art contrived to bring that knowledge 
 
 [ about. The one art suitable to this purpose, and the 
 
 highest of all, they said was virtue, but added that there 
 were three generic virtues, the physical, the ethical, and 
 the logical. And for this reason there are also three 
 parts of philosophy, namely, physics, ethics, and logic. 
 Whenever we investigate the cosmos, and the things that 
 it contains, it is physics; when we are busily concerned 
 about human life, it is ethics; when about reason, it is 
 
 logic, or as it is also called, dialectic. 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 The 2 Stoics said that some of the objects of sense 
 and some of the objects of reason were true. The 
 objects of sense, however, were not true straight off, but 
 only in so far as they carried one back to their attendant 
 objects of reason. True is that which belongs to and 
 corresponds with something or other, false that which 
 does not. 
 
 lAetius. Plac. I. (D. Dox. 273). 
 2 Sext. Emp. Adv. Math. VIII. 10. 
 
 t Zeno of Citium, the founder of the Stoic school, flourished about 
 300 B.C. Upon his death in 264 (?) he was succeeded by Cleanthes, 
 who died about 220. Chrysippus was born in 280 and died in 207. 
 
 269 
 
270 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 And 2 they compare philosophy to an animal, likening 
 logic to the bones and sinews, natural philosophy to the 
 fleshy parts, and ethical philosophy to the soul. Again, 
 they compare it to an egg; calling logic the shell, and 
 ethics the white, and natural philosophy the yolk. Also 
 to a fertile field; in which logic is the fence which goes 
 round it, ethics are the fruit, and natural philosophy the 
 soil, or the fruit-trees. Again, they compare it to a city 
 fortified by walls, and regulated by reason; and then, 
 as some of them say, no one part is preferred to another, 
 but they are all combined and united inseparably; and 
 so they treat of them all in combination. But others 
 class logic first, natural philosophy second, and ethics 
 third. . . . 
 
 Some again say that the logical division is properly 
 subdivided into two sciences; namely, rhetoric and 
 dialectics; and some divide it also into definitive species, 
 which is conversant with rules and tests; while others 
 deny the propriety of the last division altogether, and 
 argue that the object of rules and tests is the discovery 
 of the truth; for it is in this division that they explain 
 the differences of representations. They also argue that, 
 on the other side, the science of definitions has equally 
 for its object the discovery of truth, since we only know 
 things by the intervention of ideas. . . . 
 
 Demonstration they define to be a method by which 
 one proceeds from that which is more known to that 
 which is less. Perception, again, is an impression 
 produced on the mind, its name being appropriately 
 
 'From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, p. 274. The 
 pasgages taken from Diogenes Laertius are all given in Yonge's 
 translation, which, however, I have ventured to change in a few 
 
THE STOICS 271 
 
 borrowed from impressions on wax made by a seal; and 
 perception they divide into perception which has con- 
 vincing power, and perception which lacks convincing 
 power. Perception which has convincing power — and 
 this they call the criterion of facts — is produced by a real 
 object, and is therefore at the same time conformable 
 to that object. Perception which lacks convincing 
 power has no relation to any real object, or else, if it 
 has any such relation, does not correspond to it, being 
 but a vague and indistinct representation. . . . 
 
 The Stoics have chosen to treat, in the first place, of 
 perception and sensation, because the criterion by which 
 the truth of facts is ascertained is a kind of percep- 
 tion, and because the judgment which expresses assent 
 and conviction, and the understanding of a thing, a 
 judgment which precedes all others, cannot exist with- 
 out perception. For perception leads the way; and 
 then thought, finding vent in expressions, explains in 
 words the feehngs which it derives from perception. 
 ^amaa-ia is an impression, TV7r(oa-L<;, produced on the 
 mind, that is to say, an alteration, oXKoIccktl^, as 
 Chrysippus states in the twelfth book of his Treatise on 
 the Soul. For we must not take this impression to 
 resemble that made by a seal, since it is impossible to 
 conceive that there should be many impressions made 
 at the same time on the same thing. But (fiavraaUt 
 is understood to be that which is impressed, and formed, 
 and imprinted by a real object, according to a real object, 
 in such a way as it could not be by any other than a real 
 object; and, according to their ideas of the <l>avTa<7lai, 
 some are sensible, and some are not. Those they call 
 sensible, which are derived by us from some one or more 
 senses, and those they call not sensible, which emanate 
 
272 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 directly from the thought, as, for instance, those which 
 relate to incorporeal objects, or any others which are 
 embraced by reason. Again, those which are sensible 
 are produced by a real object, which imposes itself on 
 the intelligence, and compels its acquiescence; and there 
 are also some others, which are simply apparent, mere 
 shadows, which resemble those which are produced by 
 real objects. . . . 
 
 They say that the proper criterion of truth is the im- 
 pression that comes with convincing force (KaraXTjimfcrf 
 <j>avTacrla) ; that is to say, one which is derived from 
 a real object, as Chrysippus asserts in the tweKth book 
 of his Physics; and he is followed by Antipater and 
 ApoUodorus. For Boethius leaves a great many criteria, 
 such as intellect, sensation, appetite, and knowledge; but 
 Chrysippus dissents from his view, and in the first book 
 of his Treatise on Reason, says that sensation and pre- 
 conception are the only criteria. And preconception 
 is, according to him, a comprehensive physical notion 
 of general principles. But others of the earlier Stoics 
 admit right reason as one criterion of the truth. 
 
 ETHICS — FOLLOWING NATURE 
 
 They * say that the first inclination which an animal 
 has is to protect itself, as nature brings herself to take 
 an interest in it from the beginning, as Chrysippus 
 affirms in the first book of his Treatise on Ends; where he 
 says that the first and dearest object to every animal is 
 its own existence, and its consciousness of that existence 
 For that it is not natural for any animal to be aUenated 
 from itself, or even to be brought into such a state as to 
 be indifferent to itself, being neither alienated from nor 
 • From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, p. 290. 
 
I . THE STOICS 273 
 
 itself. It remains, therefore, that we must 
 assert that nature has bound the animal to itself by the 
 greatest unanimity and affection; for by that means it 
 repels all that is injurious, and attracts all that is akin to 
 it and desirable. But as for what some people say, that 
 the first inclination of animals is to pleasure, they say 
 what is false. For the Stoics say that pleasure, if there 
 be any such thing at all, is an accessory only, which 
 nature, having sought it out by itseK, as well as those 
 things which are adapted to its constitution, receives 
 incidentally in the same manner as animals are pleased, 
 and plants made to flourish. 
 
 Moreover, say they, nature makes no difference be- 
 tween animals and plants, when she regulates them so as 
 to leave them without voluntary motion or sense; and 
 some things too take place in ourselves in the same 
 manner as in plants. But, as inclination in animals 
 tends chiefly to the point of making them pursue what 
 is appropriate to them, we may say that their inclina- 
 tions are regulated by nature. And as reason is given to 
 rational animals according to a more perfect principle, 
 it follows, that to live correctly according to reason, is 
 properly predicated of those who live according to na- 
 ture. For nature is as it were the artist who produces 
 the inclination. 
 
 On which account Zeno was the first writer who, in 
 his Treatise on the Nature of Man, said that the chief 
 good was confessedly to live according to nature; which 
 is to live according to virtue, for nature leads us to this 
 point. And in like manner Clean thes speaks in his 
 Treatise on Pleasure, and so do Posidonius and Hecaton 
 in their essays on Ends and the Chief Good. And again, 
 to live according to virtue is the same thing as living 
 
274 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 according to one's experience of those things which 
 happen by nature; as Chrysippus explains it in the first 
 book of his Treatise on the Chief Good. For our in- 
 -^ dividual natures are all parts of universal nature; on 
 which account the chief good is to live in a manner cor- 
 responding to nature, and that means corresponding to 
 one's own nature and to universal nature; doing none of 
 those things which the common law of mankind is in the 
 habit of forbidding, and that common law is identical 
 with that right reason which pervades everything, being 
 the same with Jupiter, who is the regulator and chief 
 manager of all existing things. 
 
 Again, this very thing is the virtue of the happy man 
 and the perfect happiness of life when everything is done 
 according to a harmony with the genius of each individual 
 with reference to the will of the universal governor and 
 manager of all things. Diogenes, accordingly, says ex- 
 pressly that the chief good is to act according to sound 
 reason in our selection of things according to our nature. 
 And Archidemus defines it to be living in the discharge 
 of all becoming duties. Chrysippus again understands, 
 that the nature, in a manner corresponding to which we 
 ought to live, is both the common nature, and also human 
 nature in particular; but Clean thes will not admit of 
 any other nature than the common one alone, as that 
 to which people ought to live in a manner corresponding; 
 and repudiates all mention of a particular nature. And 
 he asserts that virtue is a disposition of the mind always 
 consistent and harmonious ; that one ought to seek it out 
 for its own sake, without being influenced by fear or hope 
 of any external influence. Moreover, that it is in it that 
 . happiness consists, as producing in the soul the harmony 
 '^'"^ of a life always consistent with itself, and that if a 
 
THE STOICS 275 
 
 rational animal goes the wrong way, it is because it 
 allows itself to be misled by the deceitful appearances 
 of exterior things, or perhaps by the instigation of those 
 who surround it; for nature herself never gives us any 
 but good inclinations. . . . 
 
 And they lay down the position that all offences are 
 equal, as Chrysippus argues in the fourth book of his 
 Ethic Questions, and so say Persseus and Zeno. For if 
 one thing that is true is not more true than another thing 
 that is true, neither is one thing that is false more false 
 than another thing that is false; so, too, one deceit is not 
 greater than another, nor one sin than another. For 
 the man who is a himdred furlongs from Canopus, 
 and the man who is only one, are both equally not in 
 Canopus; and so, too, he who commits a greater sin, 
 and he who commits a less, are both equally not in the 
 right path. . . . 
 
 They say also that the wise man is free from perturba- 
 tions because he has no strong propensities. But that 
 this freedom from propensities also exists in the bad 
 man, being, however, then quite another thing, inasmuch 
 as it proceeds in him only from hardness and unimpressi- 
 bility of his nature. They also pronounce the wise man 
 free from vanity, since he regards with equal eye what 
 is glorious and what is inglorious. At the same time, 
 they admit that there is another character devoid of 
 vanity, who, however, is only reckoned one of the rash 
 men, being in fact the bad man. They also say that all 
 the virtuous men are austere, because they do never 
 speak with reference to pleasure, nor do they listen to 
 what is said by others with reference to pleasure. At 
 the same time, they call another man austere too, using 
 the term in nearly the same sense as they do when they 
 
276 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 speak of austere wine, which is used in compounding 
 medicines, but not for drinking. 
 
 ^ They also pronounce the wise to be honest-hearted 
 men, anxiously attending to those matters which may 
 make them better, by means of some principle which 
 conceals what is bad, and brings to light what is good. 
 Nor is there any hypocrisy about them; for they cut off 
 all pretence in their voice and appearance. They also 
 keep aloof from business ; for they guard carefully against 
 doing anything contrary to their duty. They drink 
 wine, but they do not get drunk; and they never yield 
 to frenzy. Occasionally, extraordinary imaginations 
 may obtain a momentary power over them, owing to 
 some melancholy or trifling, arising not according to the 
 principle of what is desirable, but contrary to nature. 
 Nor, again, will the wise man feel grief; because grief is 
 an irrational contraction of the soul, as Apollodorus de- 
 fines it in his Ethics. . . . 
 
 And they say that virtues reciprocally follow one 
 another, and that he who has one has all; for that the 
 precepts of them all are common. . . . 
 
 Another doctrine of the Stoics is, that there is nothing 
 intermediate between virtue and vice; while the Peri- 
 patetics assert that there is a stage between virtue and 
 vice, being an improvement on vice which has not yet 
 arrived at virtue. For the Stoics say that as a stick 
 must be either straight or crooked, so a man must be 
 either just or unjust, and cannot be more just than just, 
 or more unjust than unjust; and that the same rule 
 applies to all cases. Moreover, Chrysippus is of opinion 
 that virtue can be lost, but Cleanthes affirms that it 
 cannot; the one saying that it can be lost by drunkenness 
 or melancholy, the other maintaining that it cannot be 
 
THE STOICS 277 
 
 lost on account of the firm perceptions which it implants 
 in men. They also pronounce it a proper object of 
 choice; accordingly, we are ashamed of actions which we 
 do improperly, while we are aware that what is honorable 
 is the only good. Again, they affirm that it is of itself 
 sufficient for happiness. . . . 
 
 Again, they say that justice exists by nature, and not 
 because of any definition or principle; just as law does, 
 or right reason, as Chrysippus tells us in his Treatise on 
 the Beautiful; and they think that one ought not to 
 abandon philosophy on account of the different opinions 
 prevailing among philosophers, since on this principle 
 one would wholly quit life. 
 
 THE HYMN OF CLEANTHES 
 
 Most ^ glorious of immortals, thou of many names, 
 all-powerful ever, hail ! On thee it is fit all men should 
 call. For we come forth from thee, and have received the 
 gift of imitative speech alone of all that live and move on 
 earth. So will I make my song of thee and chant thy 
 power forever. Thee all this ordered universe, circling 
 around the earth, follows as thou dost guide and ever- 
 more is ruled by thee. For such an engine hast thou in 
 thine unswerving hands — the two-edged, blazing, ever- 
 living bolt — that at its blow all nature trembles. Here- 
 with thou guidest universal Reason — the moving prin- 
 ciple of all the world, joined with the great and lesser 
 lights — which, being born so great, is highest lord of all. 
 Nothing occurs on earth apart from thee, Lord, nor 
 at the airy sacred pole nor on the sea, save what the 
 wicked work through lack of wisdom. But thou canst 
 
 » I am indebted to Prof. G. H. Palmer for this translation of the 
 Hymn of Cleanthes. 
 
278 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 make the crooked straight, bring order from disorder, 
 and what is worthless is in thy sight worthy. For thou 
 hast so conjoined to one all good and ill that out of 
 all goes forth a single everlasting Reason. This all the 
 wicked seek to shun, unhappy men, who, ever longing 
 to obtain a good, see not nor hear God's imiversal law; 
 which, wisely heeded, would assure them noble life. 
 They haste away, however, heedless of good, one here, 
 one there; some showing unholy zeal in strife for honor, 
 some turning recklessly toward gain, others to looseness 
 and the body's pleasures. But thou, Zeus, giver of all, 
 thou of the cloud, guide of the thunder, deliver men from 
 baleful ignorance! Scatter it, father, from our souls, 
 grant us to win that wisdom on which thou thyself re- 
 lying suitably guidest all; that thus being honored, we 
 may return to thee our honor, singing thy works un- 
 ceasingly; because there is no higher office for a man — 
 nor for a god — than ever rightly singing of imiversal law. 
 
 PLUTARCH'S REFUTATION OF THE STOIC 
 THEODICY^ 
 
 In ^ the third book of his Treatise on The Gods Chrysip- 
 pus writes as follows: ^'Just as states which have a sur- 
 plus population send great numbers out to colonies, and 
 stir up wars against their neighbors, so God provides 
 occasions for our destruction." And he cites Euripides 
 and other writers who maintained that the Trojan War 
 
 1 Plutarch, De Stoicorum Repugnantiis, §§ 32-37. 
 
 t For the suggestion to include these interesting and illuminating 
 passages from Plutarch I am indebted to Dr. B. A. G. Fuller, and 
 the translation of them which is here given is his. 
 
THE STOICS 279 
 
 was brought about by the gods because of the super- 
 abundancy of men. 
 
 Now leave aside all the other absurdities — for it is 
 not our business here to inquire whether the Stoics 
 have spoken the truth, but only whether they have 
 contradicted themselves — and consider this one point. 
 They are always giving fine and humane names to God, 
 yet they attribute to him savage and barbarous deeds, 
 yea, deeds worthy of the Galatse. For the enormous 
 destruction and wholesale slaughter of men such as was 
 entailed by the Trojan War, or again by the Persian and 
 the Peloponnesian Campaigns, bears no resemblance to 
 colonization, unless the gods were intending to found 
 some underground cities in Hades. Chrysippus rather 
 makes God like one Deiotarus, chief of the Galatse. He 
 had many children born to him, but wished to leave his 
 power and all his property to one alone. So he killed all 
 the rest off, just as one might cut back and prune the 
 new shoots of a vine, in order that some one which was 
 left might grow strong and big. A vine-dresser, it goes 
 without saying, does this, while the twigs are still small 
 and insignificant. And we are merciful to the dog and 
 destroy the surplus puppies just after they are born 
 and before their eyes are yet open. But Zeus not only 
 allows men to grow up ; he even begets them himself and 
 brings them up to manhood, and then, forsooth, carefully 
 contrives occasions for their death and destruction and 
 brutally sends them out of the world. I think he had 
 better not have provided the causes and sources of our 
 birth. 
 
 This, however, is of minor importance compared to 
 what follows. No war arises among men without vicious- 
 ness behind it. Love of luxury stirs up the one, avarice 
 
2S0 !^URCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 another, ambition a third, lust for power a fourth. 
 Now if it be God who brings wars to pass, he is also the 
 cause of our vices, provoking and perverting mankind 
 as he does. Nevertheless Chrysippus says in his Treatise 
 on Law Procedure, and again in the second book of his 
 Treatise on The Gods, that ''it is not reasonable that the 
 deity should be the cause of base deeds. For just as a 
 law cannot be the cause of its contravention, so neither 
 can the gods be the cause of impiety. It is then 
 reasonable that they should not be the causes of anything 
 base.'' 
 
 But, I say, can anything be more base than that men 
 should destroy one another? And for this destruction 
 Chrysippus says that God is responsible. I will swear 
 to it, however, that some one will say that he also praises 
 the saying of Euripides : 
 
 If gods do aught that's base, they are not gods, 
 and 
 
 Thou say'st an easy thing — to blame the gods, 
 
 as if we were now doing anything but showing up his 
 contradictory sayings and ideas. 
 
 This very saying, however, which now meets with 
 approval, 'Thou say'st an easy thing — to blame the 
 gods" — can be urged against Chrysippus not once, or 
 twice, or thrice, but innumerable times. For in the 
 first book in the Treatise on Nature, in hkening the cause 
 of motion to a mixture of things whirling and churning 
 in all directions, he speaks thus, "Since the world- 
 economy proceeds in this fashion, it is due to it that we 
 are as we are at every moment, whether contrary to our 
 proper nature we suffer disease or disability, or be 
 grammarians or musicians." And again a little later he 
 
THE STOICS 281 
 
 says, ''By this reasoning the same holds true of our virtues 
 and vices, and in general of our skill in the arts or lack 
 of it, as I have said." And a hne or two later, without 
 any ambiguity he remarks, ''No single or slightest thing 
 can happen except in accordance with the common 
 nature and its reason." That the common nature and 
 the common reason of this nature are fate, and providence, 
 and Zeus, is something of which not even the dwellers 
 in the antipodes are unaware, for this truth is noised 
 about by the Stoics everywhere, and Chrysippus remarks 
 ''that Homer rightly said, 'The will of Zeus is done,' 
 referring to that fate and that nature of the universe 
 according to which all things are governed." 
 
 How now, I ask, can God be the author of nothing base, 
 and yet at the same time not the slightest thing happen 
 otherwise than according to the common nature and its 
 reason? For since evils belong in the sum of events they 
 are, I presume, to be ascribed to God. Even Epicurus 
 turns and twists and thinks up subtleties to free and 
 release the will from the eternal motion of the world- 
 mechanism, in order that vice may not be left blameless. 
 Chrysippus, however, concedes to vice complete hcense, 
 as something which is not only necessary and destined, 
 but also in accordance with the divine reason, and 
 produced agreeably to that nature which is supremely 
 good. Look, for instance, at this statement of his: 
 ''The common nature is spread throughout all things, 
 and hence everything whatsoever which happens in the 
 imiverse and every part thereof happens in accordance 
 with it and its reason, and follows therefrom without any 
 hindrance. For there is nothing outside the universe to 
 oppose its workings, nor can any one of its parts be 
 moved or conditioned otherwise than agreeably to the 
 
282 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 common nature." What, now, are the conditions and 
 motions of its parts? Evidently the conditions are vices 
 and diseases, avarice, luxury, ambition, fear, injustice; 
 and the motions are adultery, theft, treachery, murder, 
 and parricide. None of these, then, great or small, is 
 thought by Chrysippus to exist contrary to the reason, 
 the law, the justice, the providence of Zeus, nor do law- 
 less acts exist contrary to law, nor injustice to justice, 
 nor evil-doing to providence. 
 
 Chrysippus says, however, ^'that God punishes vice, 
 and does much in the way of punishing wicked men.'' 
 Likewise in the second book of the Treatise on The Gods 
 he says that ' 'misfortunes happen sometimes to good 
 men, not for punishment as with the wicked, but in 
 accordance with some other line of administration, as in 
 the case of cities." Again, his words run as follows: 
 "In the first place evils are to be understood in pretty 
 much the aforesaid way, and secondly as apportioned 
 according to the reason of Zeus, either for punishment, 
 or agreeably to some other scheme of administration to 
 the advantage of the whole." It is, however, a horrible 
 thing that vice should be both produced and punished 
 agreeably to the reason of Zeus. And Chrysippus 
 pushes the contradiction still further when he writes in 
 the second book of the Treatise on Nature, that ''Vice 
 / has a peculiar and reasonable fitness viewed in relation 
 i to terrible calamities. It is produced in a way agreeably 
 to the universal reason, and its production is not without 
 benefit to the universe. For without it, there would be 
 \ no good." And this is the man who reproves those who 
 argue with equal force to the opposite conclusion; this 
 man who, wishing in every case to get off some odd and 
 subtle remark about the universe, maintains that cut- 
 
THE STOICS 283 
 
 pursing and flattery and foolishness are not without their 
 uses, that the good for nothing are good for something, 
 and the noxious and the miserable are not imbeneficial. 
 Again what kind of a being is Zeus — I mean, of course, 
 Chrysippus's Zeus — to punish what is neither responsi- 
 ble for itself nor uselessly produced? For according to 
 Chrysippus's w^ay of arguing, it is not vice that is to be 
 blamed, but Zeus, either because he made vice to no use, 
 or because, having made it to some use, he punishes it. 
 
 Once more, in the first book of the Treatise on Justice, 
 Chrysippus says that the gods resist some unjust deeds, 
 yet that ''it is neither possible nor expedient to remove 
 vice from the universe." If, however, it be inexpedient 
 to do away with lawlessness, injustice, and foolishness, 
 it is impossible for him to pursue his present argument. 
 For he himself in doing all he can by philosophizing to 
 do away with vice — which it is not expedient to do away 
 with — is doing something repugnant both to reason 
 and to God. Yet when he says as well that the gods 
 resist some unrighteous deeds, he gives the impression 
 that these sins are impious. 
 
 In another place where he writes many times that 
 nothing is blameworthy or contemptible in the universe, 
 since everything takes place agreeably to the supremely 
 good nature, there are yet passages where some neglect 
 in small and mean matters is allowed not to be repre- 
 hensible. Thus in the third book of the Treatise on 
 Substance, in reminding us that noble and good men are 
 the victims of such neglect, he asks ''whether some things 
 may not be neglected, just as in great houses some grains 
 of corn and wheat fall unnoticed, though the household 
 as a whole is well managed? Or is this neglect due to 
 the presence in such cases of evil spirits, in whom a 
 
284 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 reprehensible carelessness is naturally inherent?" And 
 he adds that there is a large admixture of necessity in 
 things. Now I pass over the recklessness of Ukening to 
 the unnoticed fall of grains of wheat such misfortunes of 
 good and noble men as the condemnation of Socrates, 
 and the burning alive of Pythagoras by the Cylonians, 
 and the torture and death of Zeno at the hands of the 
 tyrant Demylus, and of Antiphon by Dionysius. But is 
 it not to blame God, to say that evil spirits were prov- 
 identially appointed to such offices? For God in that 
 case would be like a king who handed over his provinces 
 to evil and stupid satraps and generals, and then over- 
 looked their neglect and ill-treatment of his best sub- 
 jects. Finally, if there be a large admixture of necessity 
 in things, God is not all powerful and all things are not 
 administered according to his word. 
 
 * * 
 
 But 2 what fault can any one find with what I have 
 said if he keeps in mind the passage in the second book 
 of the Treatise on Nature in which Chrysippus shows 
 that evil is produced to some benefit to the universe? 
 It is worth while to take this doctrine and compare it 
 with those sayings of his in which you will find he accuses 
 Xenocrates and Speusippus of not regarding health as 
 indifferent, and wealth as useless, and in the same place 
 defines vice, and discourses about it. ''Vice," he says, 
 *'is distinguished from other calamities. For it happens 
 agreeably to the rational constitution of nature, and, so 
 to speak, does not happen without some benefit to the 
 universe. For did it not exist there would be no good." 
 
 There is then nothing good among the gods when 
 there is nothing evil. ^Yhen Zeus shall have consumed 
 
 ^ De Communihus Notitiis, §§ 13-16. 
 
THE STOICS 285 
 
 the whole of matter within himself, and shall have become 
 one, having cast out all differences and distinctions, 
 then there will be no good, since there is no evil. Still, 
 one might object, a chorus can sing in harmony, though 
 no one in it sing out of tune; and a body can be healthy 
 even though no part of it be diseased. 
 
 However, Chrysippus maintains that virtue cannot 
 exist without vice, and that just as the venom of the 
 serpent or the bile of the hyena is necessary to the 
 efficacy of some medicines, so a suitable admixture of 
 the wickedness of Meletus is necessary to the righteous- 
 ness of Socrates, or of the vulgarity of Cleon to the no- 
 bility of Pericles. How, too, could Zeus create Hercules 
 and Lycurgus, unless he also created Sardanapalus and 
 Phalaris for us? Chrysippus might as reasonably add, 
 also, that tuberculosis promotes human health, and gout 
 swiftness of foot; also that Achilles could not have had a 
 fine head of hair unless Thersites had been bald. For 
 what is the difference between such nonsense and drivel, 
 and saying that w^antonness conduces to continence, or 
 unrighteousness to righteousness? And how are we to 
 pray the gods that 
 
 Lies and oily words and wily ways 
 
 may be ever evil in their sight, if virtue also vanishes and 
 is destroyed when they are done away with? 
 
 Would you really like to know, however, the most 
 charming bit of his smoothness and persuav'ion? ''Just 
 as comedians," he says, ''put in ridiculous lines which 
 are poor stuff in themselves but lend a certain charm to 
 the whole piece, so what you censure as evil, taken by 
 itself, is not without its use in relation to other things." 
 Now, in the first place, that vice has been produced by 
 
286 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 divine providence, as a poor line is intentionally writ- 
 ten by the playwright, is the most absurd of opinions. 
 Supposing it were so, how should the gods be any more 
 the g;ivers of good than of evil? How could vice be 
 inimical to the gods, and hateful in their sight? What 
 could we reply to such blasphemy as 
 
 When God will injure mortals he creates the reason why 
 and 
 
 Who forced them to fight in the battles of gods? 
 
 In the second place the poor line adorns the comedy 
 and contributes to its purpose of arousing laughter and 
 pleasing the audience. But surely father Zeus, the most 
 high, the all-just, the all-good creator, as Pindar calls 
 him, did not make this world as a big and varied and 
 clever play, but as a commonwealth of gods and men 
 wherein they might live together as comrades amid 
 righteousness and virtue in concord and blessedness. 
 And to this most beautiful and holy end, I say, what 
 need was there of robbers and murderers, parricides and 
 lyrants ? For in the eyes of God vice is not a charming 
 and clever by-play, nor is unrighteousness inflicted for 
 the sake of coarse joking and laughter and jest, upon 
 human hfe — a life such that it wdll not permit one even 
 to dream of the Stoics' renowned ' 'harmony. '^ 
 
 Again the poor line is but a trivial part of the play 
 and in all respects occupies but a small place in the 
 comedy. There are not many such lines, and they do 
 not destroy or spoil the charm of such passages as seem 
 well-written. But all things are full of vice, and our 
 whole life from the cradle to the grave is shameful and 
 disgraceful and troublous, and as there is no part of it 
 
THE STOICS 287 
 
 pure and blameless, as they themselves say, is the basest 
 and saddest of all plays. 
 
 So it is that I would gladly learn from Chrysippus of 
 what use vice is in the universe. It is of no use to 
 heavenly and divine things, he says. For it would be 
 absurd if for the lack among men of vice and avarice 
 and lying, and for the want of our ravaging one another's 
 lands and slandering and murdering one another, the 
 sun could not accomplish his appointed course, nor the 
 world enjoy its seasons and its cycles, nor the earth keep 
 its central position in the universe and provide the 
 sources of the winds and rains. It is left then for vice to 
 benefit us and our affairs; and this perhaps is what these 
 Stoics mean. But are we healthier for being vicious, 
 or better off as regards the necessities of life? Does 
 vice benefit our beauty or our strength ? They deny it. 
 Yet where is virtue to be found on earth? 'It is," they 
 say, "a, name, an appearance in the night to benighted'' 
 sophists. Vice, however, is exposed to every waking 
 eye, and plain as day to all men. If, however, we cannot 
 'have a share in anything good for anything, and least 
 of all in virtue, for heaven's sake what is the good of 
 being born? And is it not a terrible thing that though 
 what is of use to the farmer or the pilot or the driver 
 leads and contributes to its proper end, yet that which is 
 
 created by God for virtue destroys and corrupts virtue? 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 Moreover,^ the Stoic sage doesn't and never will exist 
 anjrwhere in this world. But there are innumerable men 
 as wretched as they can be living in this state and 
 principality of Zeus with its perfect government. What 
 now is more contrary to common sense than that, with 
 
 • De Communihus Notitiis, § 33, 4-34. 
 
288 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Zeus directing all things for the best, we should be doing 
 all things for the worst? It is a blasphemous thing to 
 say, but if Zeus does not care to be considered as savior 
 and merciful and a guardian against evils, but as rather 
 the opposite of all these noble names, certainly nothing 
 could be added to the evils that now exist either in num- 
 ber or magnitude. For, as the Stoics maintain, all men 
 live in the depths of folly and wickedness, and there can 
 be no addition to their viciousness nor increase to their 
 misery. 
 
 This, however, is not the worst of the case. Wo read 
 that rather where they find fault with Menander for say- 
 ing in one of his acted plays. 
 
 No greater source of evils among men is there than too 
 great good . . . 
 
 This they say is contrary to common-sense. Yet they 
 make God who is good the origin of evil. "Matter," 
 they say, ''cannot produce evil of itself, since it is without 
 'quahty and gets all the different properties which it 
 is capable of receiving from that which moves and gives 
 it form." The indwelling reason, however, moves and 
 gives it form, and it cannot move or give form to itself. 
 Hence necessarily evil, if it have no cause, comes from 
 not-being, but if it comes through the moving principle, 
 gets its existence from God. For if the Stoics think 
 that Zeus is not the master of his own members, and 
 does not employ each agreeably to his reason, they go 
 contrary to common-sense, and they are inventing an 
 animal whose many members do not obey its will, but 
 employ their several activities and ways of action, with- 
 out any stimulus from the whole organism and without 
 deriving their power of movement from it. What animal, 
 
THE STOICS 289 
 
 however, is so badly put together that against its will its 
 feet advance, its tongue makes noises, its horns butt, 
 or its teeth bite? God must do most of these things, 
 though, if, contrary to his will, the wicked men who are 
 parts of him lie and misbehave and thieve, and kill one 
 another. And if, as Chrysippus says, ''Not the smallest 
 part exists otherwise than as Zeus wills," and every 
 living thing naturally behaves and moves as Zeus guides 
 and directs and behaves and disposes, then 
 
 More ruinous than the last, this speech. 
 
 For it is ten thousand times more decent that the mem- 
 bers of Zeus, deranged by his weakness and impotence, 
 should do many absurd things contrary to his nature 
 and will, than that there should be no wantonness and 
 no wickedness of which he was not the cause. Yet for 
 all that ''the world is a city, the stars its citizens," and, 
 if you like, its tribesmen and rulers — the sun for instance 
 a counsellor, and the evening star the president of a 
 prytany or a magistrate. If this be the case I do not 
 think that they who deny the doctrines we have been 
 discussing, show themselves to be any more absurd than 
 those who maintain and advocate them. 
 
XVIII 
 EPICURUS 
 
 [341-270 B.C.] 
 
 THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE 
 
 FiEST 1 of all, then, one must determine with exact- 
 ness the notion comprehended under each separate 
 Word, in order to be able to refer to it, as to a certain 
 criterion, the conceptions which emanate from ourselves, 
 the ulterior researches and the difficulties ; otherwise the 
 judgment has no foundation. One goes on from demon- 
 stration to demonstration ad infinitum; or else one gains 
 nothing beyond mere words. In fact, it is absolutely 
 necessary that in every word we should perceive directly, 
 and without the assistance of any demonstration, the 
 fundamental notion which it expresses, if we wish to have 
 any foundation to which we may refer our researches, 
 our difficulties, and our personal judgments, whatever 
 in other respects may be the criterion which we adopt, 
 whether we take as our standard the impressions pro- 
 duced on our senses, or the actual impression in general; 
 or whether we cling to the idea by itself, or to any other 
 criterion. 
 
 We must also note carefully the impressions which we 
 receive in the presence of objects, in order to bring our- 
 selves back to that point in the circumstances in which 
 
 1 From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, pp. 437 ff. This 
 and the following division are taken from EdIcutus's letter to 
 Herodotus. 
 
 290 
 
EPICURUS 291 
 
 it is necessary to suspend the judgment; or even when the 
 question is about things, the evidence of which is not 
 immediately perceived. 
 
 When these foundations are once laid we may pass 
 to the study of those things, the evidence of which is not 
 immediate. . . . 
 
 One must not forget that the production of images 
 is simultaneous with the thought; for from the surface 
 of the bodies images of this kind are continually flowing • 
 off in an insensible manner indeed, because they are im- 
 mediately replaced. They preserve for a long time the 
 same disposition, and the same arrangement that the 
 atoms do in the solid body, although, notwithstanding, 
 their form may be sometimes altered. The direct 
 production of images in space is equally instantaneous, 
 because these images are only light substances destitute 
 of depth. 
 
 But there are other manners in which natures of this 
 kind are produced; for there is nothing in all this which 
 at all contradicts the senses, if one only considers in 
 what way the senses are exercised, and if one is inclined 
 to explain the relation which is established between 
 external objects and ourselves. Also, one must admit \ 
 that something passes from external objects into us m\<j^ 
 order to produce in us sight and the knowledge of forms ; ' 
 for it is difficult to conceive that external objects can 
 affect us through the medium of the air which is between 
 us and them, or by means of rays, whatever emissions 
 proceed from us to them, so as to give us an impression 
 of their form and color. This phenomenon, on the 
 contrary, is perfectly explained, if we admit that certain 
 images of the same color, of the same shape, and of a 
 proportionate magnitude pass from these objects to us, 
 
292 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 and so arrive at being seen and comprehended. These 
 images are animated by an exceeding rapidity, and, as on 
 the other side, the soHd object forming a compact mass, 
 and comprising a vast quantity of atoms, emits always 
 the same quantity of particles, the vision is continued, 
 and only produces in us one single perception which 
 preserves always the same relation to the object. Every 
 conception, every sensible perception which bears upon 
 the form or the other attributes of these images, is only 
 the same form of the solid perceived directly, either in 
 virtue of a sort of actual and continued condensation of 
 the image, or in consequence of the traces which it has 
 left in us. 
 
 Error and false judgments always come from our 
 adding in certain imaginings of our own which are occa- 
 sioned by some motion in our own bodies, which motion in 
 turn is connected with some impression or direct repre- 
 sentation, but also connected with some opinion peculiar 
 to ourselves, which is the parent of error. In fact the 
 representations which intelligence reflects like a mirror, 
 whether one perceives them in a dream, or by any other 
 conceptions of the intellect, or of any other of the criteria, 
 can never resemble the objects that one calls real and 
 true, unless there were objects of this kind perceived 
 directly. And, on the other side, error could not be 
 possible if we did not receive some other motion also, a 
 sort of initiative of intelligence connected, it is true, with 
 direct representation, but going beyond that representa- 
 tion. These conceptions being connected with the direct 
 perception which produces the representation, but going 
 beyond it, in consequence of a motion peculiar to the 
 individual thought, produce error when it is not con- 
 firmed by evidence, or when it is contradicted by evi- 
 
EPICURUS 293 
 
 dence; but when it is confirmed, or when it is not 
 contradicted by evidence, then it produces truth. 
 
 We must carefully preserve these principles in order 
 not to reject the authority of the faculties which perceive 
 truth directly; and not, on the other hand, to allow what 
 is false to be established with equal firmness, so as to 
 throw everything into confusion. 
 
 PHYSICAL SPECULATIONS 
 
 And, first of all, we must admit that nothing can come 
 of that which does not exist; for, were the fact otherwise, 
 then everything would be produced from everything, 
 and there would be no need of any seed. And if that 
 which disappeared were so absolutely destroyed as to 
 become nonexistent, then everything would soon perish, 
 as the things with which they would be dissolved would 
 have no existence. But, in truth, the universal whole 
 always was such as it now is, and always will be such. 
 For there is nothing into which it can change; for there 
 is nothing beyond this universal whole which can pene- 
 trate into it, and produce any change in it. . . . 
 
 The universe is infinite. For that which is finite has 
 an extreme, and that which has an extreme is looked at in 
 relation to something else. Consequently, that which has 
 not an extreme, has no boundary; and if it has no bound- 
 ary, it must be infinite, and not terminated by any limit. 
 
 Again: the atoms which form the bodies, these full 
 elements from which the combined bodies come, and 
 into which they resolve themselves, assume an incalcu- 
 lable variety of forms, for the numerous differences which 
 the bodies present cannot possibly result from an ag- 
 gregate of the same forms, [and] the atoms are in a con- 
 tinual state of motion. . . . 
 
294 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Among the atoms, some are separated by great dis- 
 tances, others come very near to one another in the 
 formation of combined bodies, or at times are enveloped 
 by others which are combining; but in this latter case 
 they, nevertheless, preserve their own peculiar motion, 
 thanks to the nature of the vacuum, which separates the 
 one from the other, and yet offers them no resistance. 
 The solidity which they possess causes them, while 
 knocking against one another, to react the one upon 
 the other; till at last the repeated shocks bring on the 
 dissolution of the combined body; and for all this there 
 "^ is no external cause, the atoms and the vacuum being 
 the only causes. . . . 
 
 One must also allow that the atoms possess no one 
 of the qualities of sensible objects, except form, weight, 
 magnitude, and anything else that is unavoidably inher- 
 ent in form; in fact every quality is changeable, but the 
 atoms are necessarily unchangeable; for it is impossible 
 but that in the dissolution of combined bodies, there 
 must be something which continues solid and indestructi- 
 ble, of such a kind, that it will not change either into 
 what does not exist, or out of what does not exist; but 
 that it results either from a simple displacement of 
 parts, which is the most usual case, or from the addition 
 or subtraction of certain particles. . . . 
 
 Moreover, all the atoms are necessarily animated by 
 the same rapidity, when they move across the vacuum, 
 or when no obstacle thwarts them. For why should 
 heavy atoms have a more rapid movement than those 
 which are small and light, since in no quarter do they 
 encounter any obstacle? Why, on the other hand, 
 should the small atoms have a rapidity superior to that 
 of the large ones, since both the one and the other find 
 
EPICURUS 295 
 
 everywhere an easy passage, from the very moment that 
 no obstacle intervenes to thwart their movements? 
 Movement from low to high, horizontal movement to 
 and fro, in virtue of the reciprocal percussion of the 
 atoms, movement downward, in virtue of their weight, 
 will be all equal, for in whatever sense the atom moves 
 it must have a movement as rapid as the thought, till 
 the moment when it is repelled, in virtue of some external 
 cause, or of its own proper weight, by the shock of some 
 object which resists it. . . . At the same time, an atom 
 has not, in any moment perceptible to the intelligence, a 
 continued movement in the same direction; but rather a 
 series of oscillating movements from which there results, 
 in the last analysis, a continued movement perceptible 
 to the senses. . . . 
 
 Let us now return to the study of the affections, and 
 of the sensations; for this will be the best method of 
 proving that the soul is a bodily substance composed of 
 slight particles, diffused over all the members of the body, 
 and presenting a great analogy to a sort of spirit, having 
 an admixture of heat, resembling at one time one, and 
 at another time the other of those two principles. There 
 exists in it a special part, endowed with an extreme 
 mobility, in consequence of the exceeding slightness of 
 the elements which compose it, and also in reference to 
 its more immediate sympathy with the rest of the body. 
 That it is which the faculties of the soul sufficiently 
 prove, and the passions, and the mobility of its nature, 
 and the thoughts, and, in a word, everything, the priva- 
 tion of which is death. We must admit that it is in 
 the soul most especially that the principle of sensation 
 resides. At the same time it would not possess this 
 power if it were not enveloped by the rest of the body 
 
296 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 which communicates it to it, and in its turn receives it 
 from it, but only a certain measure; for there are certain 
 affections of the soul of which it is not capable. 
 
 THE PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF EPICURUS 
 
 Let 2 no one delay to study philosophy while he is 
 young, and when he is old let him not become weary of 
 the study; for no man can ever find the time imsui table 
 or too late to study the health of his soul. And he who 
 asserts either that it is not yet time to philosophize, or 
 that the hour is passed, is like a man who should say that 
 the time is not yet come to be happy, or that it is too 
 late. So that both young and old should study philos- 
 ophy, the one in order that, when he is old, he may be 
 young in good things through the pleasing recollection 
 of the past, and the other in order that he may be at the 
 same time both young and old, in consequence of hia 
 absence of fear for the future. 
 
 It is right then for a man to consider the things which 
 produce happiness, since, if happiness is present, we 
 have everything, and when it is absent, we do everything 
 with a view to possess it. Now, what I have constantly 
 recommended to you, these things I would have you do 
 and practise, considering them to be the elements of 
 living well. First of all, beUeve that God is a being in- 
 corruptible and happy, as the common opinion of the 
 world about God dictates; and attach to your idea of him 
 nothing which is inconsistent with incorruptibiUty or 
 with happiness ; and think that he is invested with every- 
 thing which is able to preserve to him this happiness, 
 in conjunction with incorruptibility. For there are 
 
 2 This passage is from the letter of Epicurus addressed to Menaecens. 
 Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, p. 468. 
 
EPICURUS 297 
 
 gods; though our knowledge of them is indistinct. But 
 they are not of the character which people in general 
 attribute to them; for they do not pay a respect to them 
 which accords with the ideas that they entertain of 
 them. And that man is not impious who discards the-^ 
 gods believed in by the many, but he who applies to the 
 gods the opinions entertained of them by the many. 
 For the assertions of the many about the gods are not 
 anticipations (TrpoXTjA/ret?), but false opinions {viroXrj-^eL'^).^ 
 And in consequence of these, the greatest evils which 
 befall wricked men, and the benefits which are conferred 
 on the good, are all attributed to the gods; for they 
 connect all their ideas of them with a comparison of 
 human virtues, and everything which is different from 
 human qualities they regard as incompatible with the 
 divine nature. 
 
 Accustom yourseK also to think death a matter with 
 which we are not at all concerned, since all good and all 
 evil is in sensation, and since death is only the privation 
 of sensation. On which account, the correct knowledge 
 of the fact that death is no concern of ours, makes the 
 mortality of life pleasant to us, inasmuch as it sets forth 
 no illimitable time, but relieves us from the longing for ''- 
 immortality. For there is nothing terrible in living to 
 a man who rightly comprehends that there is nothing 
 terrible in ceasing to live ; so that he was a silly man who 
 said that he feared death, not because it would grieve 
 him when it w^as present, but because it did grieve him 
 while it was future. For it is very absurd that that>^ 
 which does not distress a man when it is present, 
 should afflict him when only expected. Therefore, the 
 most formidable of all evils, death, is nothing to us, 
 since, when we exist, death is not present to us; and 
 
298 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 when death is present, then we have no existence. It 
 is no concern then either of the Uving or of the dead; since 
 to the one it has no existence, and the other class has no 
 existence itself. But people in general at times flee from 
 death as the greatest of evils, and at times wish for it as 
 a rest from the evils in life. Nor is the not living a 
 thing feared, since living is not connected with it; nor 
 does the wise man think not living an evil; but, just as 
 he chooses food, not preferring that which is most 
 abundant, but that which is nicest; so, too, he enjoys 
 time, not measuring it as to whether it is of the greatest 
 length, but as to whether it is most agreeable. And 
 he who enjoins a young man to live well, and an old man 
 to die well, is a simpleton, not only because of the con- 
 stantly delightful nature of life, but also because the care 
 to live well is identical with the care to die well. And 
 he was still more wrong who said : 
 
 'Tis well to taste of life, and then when born 
 To pass with quickness to the shades below. 
 
 For if this really was his opinion why did he not quit 
 life? for it was easily in his power to do so, if it really 
 was his belief. But if he was joking, then he was talking 
 foolishly in a case where it ought not to be allowed; and 
 we must recollect that the future is not our own, nor, 
 on the other hand, is it wholly not our own, I mean so 
 that we can never altogether await it with a feeling of 
 certainty that it will be, nor altogether despair of it as 
 what will never be. And we must consider that some of 
 the passions are natural, and some empty; and of the 
 natural ones some are necessary, and some merely 
 natural. And of the necessary ones some are necessary 
 to happiness, others are necessary that the body may be 
 
EPICURUS 299 
 
 exempt from trouble, and others, again, merely in order 
 that life itself may be; for a correct theory, with regard 
 to these things, can refer all choice and avoidance to 
 the health of the body and the imperturbability of the 
 soul, since this is the end of living happily. For it is for 
 the sake of this that we do everything, wishing to avoid 
 grief and fear; and when once this is the case, with 
 respect to us, then the storm of the soul is, as I may say, 
 put an end to; since the animal is unable to go as if to 
 something deficient, and to seek something different 
 from that by which the good of the soul and body will 
 be perfected. 
 
 For then we have need of pleasure when we grieve, 
 because pleasure is not present; but when we do not 
 grieve, then we have no need of pleasure; and on this 
 account, we affirm that pleasure is the beginning and 
 end of living happily; for we have recognized this as the 
 first good, being connate with us; and it is with reference 
 to it that we begin every choice and avoidance; and 
 to this we come as if we judged of all good by passion 
 as the standard; and, since this is the first good and 
 connate with us, on this account we do not choose every 
 pleasure, but at times we pass over many pleasures when 
 any difficulty is likely to ensue from them; and we think 
 many pains better than pleasures, when a greater pleasure 
 follows them, if we endure the pain for a time. 
 
 Every pleasure is therefore a good on account of its 
 own nature, but it does not follow that every pleasure 
 is worthy of being chosen; just as every pain is an evil, 
 and yet every pain must not be avoided; but it is right 
 to estimate all these things by the measurement and 
 view of what is suitable and unsuitable; for at times we 
 may feel the good as an evil, and at times, on the con- 
 
300 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 trary, we may feel the evil as good. And we think 
 contentment a great good, not in order that we may 
 never have but a little, but in order that, if we have not 
 much, we may make use of a little, being genuinely per- 
 suaded that those men enjoy luxury most completely 
 who are the best able to do without it; and that every- 
 thing which is natural is easily provided, and what is 
 useless is not easily procured. And simple flavors give 
 as much pleasure as costly fare, when everything that 
 can give pain, and every feeling of want, is removed; 
 and corn and water give the most extreme pleasure when 
 any one in need eats them. To accustom one's self, 
 therefore, to simple and inexpensive habits is a great 
 ingredient in the perfecting of health, and makes a man 
 free from hesitation with respect to the necessary uses 
 of life. And when we, on certain occasions, fall in with 
 more sumptuous fare, it makes us in a better disposi- 
 tion toward it, and renders us fearless with respect to 
 fortune. '\\Tien, therefore, we say that pleasure is a 
 chief good, we are not speaking of the pleasures of the 
 debauched man, or those which lie in sensual enjoyment, 
 as some think who are ignorant, and who do not enter- 
 tain our opinions, or else interpret them perversely; but 
 we mean the freedom of the body from pain, and of the 
 soul from confusion. For it is not continued drinkings 
 and revels, or the enjoyment of female society, or feasts 
 of fish and other such things as a costly table supplies, 
 that make life pleasant, but sober contemplation, which 
 examines into the reasons for all choice and avoidance, 
 and which puts to flight the vain opinions from which 
 the greater part of the confusion arises which troubles 
 the soul. 
 Now, the beginning and the greatest good of all these 
 
I EPICURUS 301 
 
 things is prudence, on which account prudence is some- 
 thing more valuable than even philosophy, inasmuch as 
 all the other virtues spring from it, teaching us that it 
 is not possible to live pleasantly unless one also lives 
 prudently, and honorably, and justly; and that one can- 
 not live prudently, and honorably, and justly, without 
 living pleasantly; for the virtues are connate with living 
 agreeably, and living agreeably is inseparable from the 
 virtues. Since, who can you think better than that 
 man who has holy opinions respecting the gods, and 
 who is utterly fearless with respect to death, and who 
 has properly contemplated the end of nature, and who 
 comprehends that the chief good is easily perfected and 
 easily provided; and the greatest evil lasts but a short 
 period, and causes but brief pain? And w^ho has no 
 belief in necessity, which is set up by some as the mistress 
 of all things, but he refers some things to fortune, some 
 to ourselves, because necessity is an irresponsible power, 
 and because he sees that fortune is unstable, while our 
 own will is free ; and this freedom constitutes, in our case, 
 a responsibility which makes us encounter blame and 
 praise. Since it would be better to follow the fables 
 about the gods than to be a slave to the fate of the 
 natural philosopher; for the fables which are told give 
 us a sketch, as if we could avert the wrath of God by 
 paying him honor; but the other presents us with 
 necessity which is inexorable. 
 
 And he, not thinking fortune a goddess, as the general- 
 ity esteem her (for nothing is done at random by a god), 
 nor a cause which no man can rely on; for he thinks that 
 good or evil is not given by her to men so as to make 
 them live happily, but that the principles of great goods 
 or great evils are supplied by her; thinking it better to 
 
302 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 be unfortunate in accordance with reason, than to be 
 fortunate irrationally; for that those actions which are 
 judged to be the best, are rightly done in consequence of 
 reason. 
 
 Do you then study these precepts, and those which are 
 akin to them, by all means day and night, pondering on 
 them by yourself, and discussing them with any one like 
 yourself, and then you will never be disturbed by either 
 sleeping or waking fancies, but you will live like a god 
 among men; for a man living amid immortal gods is in 
 no respect like a mortal being. 
 
 SOME MAXIMS OF EPICURUS 
 
 No ^ pleasure is intrinsically bad ; but the efficient 
 causes of some pleasures bring with them a great many 
 perturbations of pleasure. 
 
 If every pleasure were condensed, if one may so say, 
 and if each lasted long, and affected the whole body, or 
 the essential parts of it, then there would be no difference 
 between one pleasure and another. 
 
 Irresistible power and great wealth may, up to a cer- 
 tain point, give us security as far as men are con- 
 cerned; but the security of men in general depends 
 upon the tranquillity of their souls, and their freedom 
 from ambition. 
 
 The riches of nature are defined and easily procurable; 
 but vain desires are insatiable. 
 
 The wise man is but little favored by fortune; but his 
 reason procures him the greatest and most valuable 
 
 3 From Diogenes Laertius, Yonge's translation, p. 474. 
 
EPICURUS 303 
 
 goods, and these he does enjoy, and will enjoy the whole 
 of his life. 
 
 He who is acquainted with the limits of life knows 
 that that which removes the pain which arises from want, 
 and which makes the whole of life perfect, is easily pro- 
 curable; so that he has no need of those things which 
 can only be attained with trouble. 
 
 Of all the things which wisdom provides for the 
 happiness of the whole life, by far the most important is 
 the acquisition of friendship. 
 
 He who desires to live tranquilly without having any- 
 thing to fear from other men, ought to make himself 
 friends ; those whom he cannot make friends of, he should, 
 at least, avoid rendering enemies; and if that is not in 
 his power, he should, as far as possible, avoid all inter- 
 course with them and keep them aloof, as far as it is for 
 his interest to do so. 
 
 The happiest men are they who have arrived at the 
 point of having nothing to fear from those who surround 
 them. Such men can hve with one another most agree- 
 ably, having the firmest grounds of confidence in one 
 another, enjoying the advantages of friendship in all 
 their fulness, and not lamenting, as a pitiable circum- 
 stance, the premature death of their friends. 
 
 Natural justice is a covenant of what is suitable, 
 leading men to avoid injuring one another, and being 
 injured. 
 
 Justice has no independent existence; it results from 
 mutual contracts, and establishes itself wherever there 
 
 ^ 
 
304 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 is a mutual engagement to guard against doing or 
 sustaining mutual injury. 
 
 In a general point of view, justice is the same thing to 
 every one; for there is something advantageous in mu- 
 tual society. Nevertheless, the difference of place, and 
 divers other circumstances, make justice vary. 
 
 From the moment that a thing declared just by the 
 law is generally recognized as useful for the mutual 
 relations of men, it becomes really just, whether it is 
 imiversally regarded as such or not. 
 
 But if, on the contrary, a thing established by law 
 is not really useful for the social relations, then it is not 
 just. 
 
 The just man is the freest of all men from disquietude; 
 but the unjust man is a perpetual prey to it. 
 
XIX 
 LUCRETIUS 
 
 [96-55 B.C.] 
 
 THE WAGES OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 For 1 1 will essay to discourse to you of the most high 
 system of heaven and the gods and will open up the first- 
 beginnings of things, out of which nature gives birth to 
 all things and increase and nourishment, and into which 
 nature hkewise dissolves them back after their destruc- 
 tion. These we are accustomed in explaining their 
 reason to call matter and begetting bodies of things and 
 to name seeds of things and also to term first bodies, 
 because from them as first elements all things are. 
 
 It 2 is sweet, when on the great sea the winds trouble 
 its waters, to behold from land another's deep distress; 
 not that it is a pleasure and delight that any should be 
 afflicted, but because it is sweet to see from what evils 
 you are yourself exempt. It is sweet also to look upon 
 the mighty struggles of war arrayed along the plains 
 without sharing yourself in the danger. But nothing is 
 more welcome than to hold the lofty and serene positions 
 well fortified by the learning of the wise, from which you 
 may look down upon others and see them wandering all 
 
 1 The extracts from Lucretius are given in Munro's translation, 
 and the page references are to the translation. P. 2. : 
 
 2 lb., p. 28. 
 
 305 
 
306 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 abroad and going astray in their search for the path of 
 life, see the contest among them of intellect, the rivalry 
 of birth, the striving night and day with surpassing 
 effort to struggle up to the summit of power and to be 
 masters of the world. miserable minds of men! 
 blinded breasts ! in what darkness of life and in how great 
 dangers is passed this term of life whatever its duration! 
 not choose to see that nature craves for herseK no more 
 than this, that pain hold aloof from the body, and that 
 she in mind enjoy a feeling of pleasure exempt from care 
 and fear! Therefore we see that for the body's nature 
 few things are needed at all, such and such only as take 
 away pain. ;,, 
 
 For 3 even as children are flurried and dread all things 
 in the thick darkness, thus we in the daylight fear at 
 times things not a whit more to be dreaded than those 
 which children shudder at in the dark and fancy sure to 
 be. This terror therefore and darkness of mind must be 
 dispelled not by the rays of the sun and ghttering shafts 
 of day, but by the aspect and law of nature. 
 
 Now mark and I will explain by what motion the 
 begetting bodies of matter do beget different things and 
 after they are begotten again break them up, and by 
 what force they are compelled so to do and what velocity 
 is given to them for travelling through the great void: 
 do you mind to give heed to my words. For verily 
 matter does not cohere inseparably ^massed together, 
 since we see that everything wanes and" perceive that all 
 things ebb as it were by length of time and that age with- 
 draws them from our sight, though yet the sum is seen 
 to remain imimpaired by reason that the bodies which 
 
 3 Munro's translation, pp. 29-30. 
 
LUCRETIUS 307 
 
 quit each thing, lessen the things from which they go, 
 gift with increase those to which they have come, 
 compel the former to grow old, the latter to come to their 
 prime, and yet abide not with these. Thus the sum of 
 things is ever renewed and mortals live by a reciprocal 
 dependency. Some nations wax, others wane, and in a 
 brief space the races of living things are changed and 
 like runners hand over the lamp of life. 
 
 * * 
 But * some in opposition to this, ignorant of matter, 
 believe that nature cannot without the providence of the 
 gods in such nice conformity to the ways of men vary the 
 seasons of the year and bring forth crops, ay and all 
 the other things, which divine pleasure the guide of life 
 prompts men to approach, escorting them in person and 
 enticing them by her fondlings to continue their races 
 through the arts of Venus, that mankind may not come 
 to an end. Now when they suppose that the gods 
 designed all things for the sake of men, they seem to me 
 in all respects to have strayed most widely from true 
 reason. For even if I did not know what first-beginnings 
 are, yet this, judging by the very arrangements of heaven 
 I would venture to affirm, and led by many other cir- 
 cumstances to maintain, that the nature of the world has <^ 
 by no means been made for us by divine power : so great 
 Ure the defects with which it stands encumbered. 
 
 THE COURSE OF THE ATOMS 
 
 This ^ point too herein we wish you to apprehend : when 
 bodies are borne downward sheer through void by their 
 own weights, at quite uncertain times and uncertain 
 spots they push themselves a little from their course; 
 
 * Munro's translation, p. 32. 
 5 lb., pp. 33-4. 
 
308 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 you just and only just can call it a change of inclination. 
 If they were not used to swerve, they would all fall down, 
 like drops of rain, through the deep void, and no clashing 
 would have been begotten nor blow produced among the 
 first-beginnings : thus nature never would have produced 
 aught. 
 
 But if haply any one believes that heavier bodies, as 
 they are carried more quickly sheer through space, can 
 fall from above on the lighter and so beget blows able to 
 produce begetting motions, he goes most widely astray 
 from true reason. For whenever bodies fall through 
 water and thin air, they must quicken their descents in 
 proportion to their weights, because the body of water 
 and subtle nature of air cannot retard everything in equal 
 degree, but more readily give way, overpowered by the 
 heavier : on the other hand empty void cannot offer resist- 
 ance to anything in any direction at any time, but must, 
 as its nature craves, continually give way; and for this 
 reason all things must be moved and borne along with 
 equal velocity though of unequal weights through the 
 unresisting void. Therefore heavier things will never be 
 able to fall from above on lighter nor of themselves to 
 beget blows sufficient to produce the varied motions by 
 which nature carries on things. Wherefore again and 
 again I say bodies must swerve a httle; and yet 
 not more than the least possible; lest we be found to 
 be imagining oblique motions and this the reahty 
 should refute. For this we see to be plain and evi- 
 dent, that weights, so far as in them is, cannot travel 
 obhquely, when they fall from above, at least so far 
 as you can perceive; but that nothing swerves in 
 any case from the straight course, who is there that can 
 perceive ? 
 
LUCRETIUS 309 
 
 THE UNCONCERNED GODS 
 
 For ^ the nature of gods must ever in itseK of necessity 
 enjoy immortality together with supreme repose, far re- 
 moved and withdrawn from our concerns; since exempt 
 from every pain, exempt from all dangers, strong in its 
 own resources, not wanting aught of us, it is neither 
 gained by favors nor moved by anger. 
 
 *** 
 
 If '' you well apprehend and keep in mind these things, 
 nature free at once and rid of her haughty lords is seen 
 to do all things spontaneously of herself without the 
 meddling of the gods. For I appeal to the holy breasts 
 of the gods who in tranquil peace pass a calm time and 
 an unruffled existence. Who can rule the sun, who hold 
 in his hand with controlling force the strong reins of the 
 immeasurable deep? Who can at once make all the differ- 
 ent heavens to roll and warm with ethereal fires all the 
 fruitful earths, or be present in all places at all times, to 
 bring darkness with clouds and shake with noise the 
 heaven's serene expanse, to hurl lightnings and often 
 throw down his own temples, and withdrawing into the 
 deserts there to spend his rage in practising his bolt 
 which often passes the guilty by and strikes dead the 
 innocent and unoffending? 
 
 THE NATURE OF MIND AND SOUL 
 
 And s now since I have shown what-hke the beginnings 
 of all things are and how diverse with varied shapes as 
 they fly spontaneously driven on in everlasting motion, 
 and how all things can be severally produced out of these, 
 next after these questions the nature of the mind and 
 
 «Muiiro's translation, p. 43. 
 «Ib., p. 54. 8lb., p. 58. 
 
310 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 soul should methinks be cleared up by my verses and 
 that dread of Acheron be driven headlong forth, troubling 
 as it does the life of man from its inmost depths and 
 overspreading all things with the blackness of death, 
 allowing no pleasure to be pure and unalloyed. 
 
 * * 
 Now 9 I assert that the mind and the soul are kept 
 together in close union and make up a single nature, 
 but that the directing principle which we call mind and 
 understanding, is the head so to speak and reigns para- 
 mount in the whole body. It has a fixed seat in the 
 middle region of the breast: here throb fear and ap- 
 prehension, about these spots dwell soothing joys; 
 therefore here is the understanding or mind. All the 
 rest of the soul disseminated through the whole body 
 obeys and moves at the will and inclination of the mind. 
 It by itself alone knows for itself, rejoices for itself, at 
 times when the impression does not move either soul or 
 body together with it. And as when some part of us, 
 the head or the eye, suffers from an attack of pain, we 
 do not feel the anguish at the same time over the whole 
 body, thus the mind sometimes suffers pain by itself or 
 is inspirited with joy, when all the rest of the soul 
 throughout the limbs and frame is stirred by no novel 
 sensation. But when the mind is excited by some more 
 vehement apprehension, we see the whole soul feel in 
 unison through all the limbs, sweats and paleness spread 
 over the whole body, the tongue falter, the voice die 
 away, a mist cover the eyes, the ears ring, the hmbs sink 
 under one; in short we often see men drop down from 
 terror of mind; so that anybody may easily perceive 
 from this that the soul is closely united with the mind, 
 
 sMunro's translation, pp. 60-2. 
 
LUCRETIUS 311 
 
 and when it has been smitten by the influence of the 
 mind, forthwith pushes and strikes the body. 
 
 This same principle teaches that the nature of the 
 mind and soul is bodily; for when it is seen to push the 
 limbs, rouse the body from sleep, and alter the counte- 
 nance and guide and turn about the w^hole man, and 
 when we see that none of these effects can take place 
 without touch nor touch without body, must we not 
 admit that the mind and the soul are of a bodily nature? 
 Again you perceive that our mind in our body suffers 
 together with the body and feels in unison with it. 
 When a weapon with a shudder-causing force has been 
 driven in and has laid bare bones and sinews within the 
 body, if it does not take life, yet there ensues a faintness 
 and a lazy sinking to the ground and on the ground the 
 turmoil of mind which arises, and sometimes a kind of 
 undecided inclination to get up. Therefore the nature 
 of the mind must be bodily, since it suffers from bodily 
 weapons and blow^s. 
 
 I will now go on to explain in my verses of what 
 kind of body the mind consists and out of what it is 
 formed. First of all I say that it is extremely fine and 
 formed of exceedingly minute bodies. That this is so 
 you may, if you please to attend, clearly perceive from 
 what follows: nothing that is seen takes place with a 
 velocity equal to that of the mind when it starts some 
 suggestion and actually sets it agoing; the mind therefore 
 is stirred with greater rapidity than any of the things 
 whose nature stands out visible to sight. But that 
 which is so passing nimble must consist of seeds ex- 
 ceedingly round and exceedingly minute, in order to be 
 stirred and set in motion by a small moving power. Thus 
 water is moved and heaves by ever so small a force, 
 
 /^ 
 
312 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 formed as it is of small particles apt to roll. But on the 
 other hand the nature of honey is more sticky, its liquid 
 more sluggish and its movement more dilatory; for the 
 whole mass of matter coheres more closely, because sure 
 enough it is made of bodies not so smooth, fine, and 
 round. A breeze however gentle and light can force, 
 as you may see, a high heap of poppy seed to be blown 
 away from the top downward; but on the other hand 
 Eurus itself cannot move a heap of stones. Therefore 
 bodies possess a power of moving in proportion to their 
 smallness and smoothness; and on the other hand the 
 greater weight and roughness bodies prove to have, the 
 more stable they are. Since then the nature of the 
 mind has been found to be eminently easy to move, it 
 must consist of bodies exceedingly small, smooth, and 
 round. The knowledge of which fact, my good friend, 
 will on many accounts prove useful and be serviceable to 
 you. The following fact too Hkewise demonstrates how 
 fine the texture is of which its nature is composed, and 
 how small the room is in which it can be contained, 
 could it only be collected into one mass: soon as the 
 untroubled sleep of death has gotten hold of a man and 
 the nature of the mind and soul has withdrawn, you can 
 perceive then no diminution of the entire body either in 
 appearance or weight: death makes all good save the 
 vital sense and heat. Therefore the whole soul must 
 consist of very small seeds and be inwoven through the 
 veins and flesh and sinews; inasmuch as, after it has all 
 withdrawn from the whole body, the exterior contour 
 of the limbs preserves itself entire and not a tittle of the 
 weight is lost. Just in the same way when the flavor 
 of wine is gone or when the delicious aroma of a perfume 
 has been dispersed into the air or when the savor has 
 
LUCRETIUS 313 
 
 left some body, yet the thing itseK does not therefore 
 look smaller to the eye, nor does aught seem to have been 
 taken from the weight, because sure enough many 
 minute seeds make up the savors and the odor in the 
 whole body of the several things. Therefore, again and 
 again I say, you are to know that the nature of the mind 
 and the soul has been formed of exceedingly minute 
 seeds, since at its departure it takes away none of the 
 weight. 
 
 DISPELLING THE DREAD OF DEATH 
 
 Death ^^ therefore to us is nothing, concerns us not a 
 jot, since the nature of the mind is proved to be mortal; 
 and as in time gone by we felt no distress, when the 
 Poeni from all sides came together to do battle, and all 
 things shaken by war's troublous uproar shuddered 
 and quaked beneath high heaven, and mortal men were 
 in doubt which of the two peoples it should be to whose 
 empire all must fall by sea and land aUke, thus when 
 we shall be no more, w^hen there shall have been a separa- 
 tion of body and soul, out of both of which we are each 
 formed into a single being, to us, you may be sure, who 
 then shall be no more, nothing whatever can happen to 
 excite sensation, not if earth shall be mingled with sea 
 and sea with heaven. And even supposing the nature 
 of the mind and power of the soul do feel, after they 
 have been severed from our body, yet that is nothing to 
 us who by the binding tie of marriage between body and 
 soul are formed each into one single being. And if time 
 should gather up our matter after our death and put it 
 once more into the position in which it now is, and the 
 light of life be given to us again, this result even would 
 
 " Miinro's translation, pp. 77-8. 
 
314 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 concern us not at all, when the chain of our self-con- 
 sciousness has once been snapped asunder. So now we 
 give ourselves no concern about any self which we have 
 been before, nor do we feel any distress on the score of 
 that self. For when you look back on the whole past 
 course of immeasurable time and think how manifold 
 are the shapes which the motions of matter take, you 
 may easily credit this too, that these very same seeds of 
 which we now are formed, have often before been placed 
 in the same order in which they now are; and yet we 
 cannot recover this in memory : a break in our existence 
 has been interposed, and all the motions have wandered 
 to and fro far astray from the sensations they produced. 
 For he whom evil is to befall, must in his own person 
 exist at the very time it comes, if the misery and suffering 
 are haply to have any place at all; but since death pre- 
 cludes this, and forbids him to be, upon whom the ills 
 can be brought, you may be sure that we have nothing to 
 fear after death, and that he who exists not, cannot 
 become miserable, and that it matters not a whit whether 
 he has been born into life at any other time, when im- 
 mortal death has taken away his mortal life. 
 
 Therefore when you see a man bemoaning his hard 
 case, that after death he shall either rot with his body laid 
 in the grave or be devoured by flames or the jaws of 
 wild beasts, you may be sure that his ring betrays a flaw 
 and that there lurks in his heart a secret goad, though 
 he himself declare that he does not believe that any sense 
 will remain to him after death. He does not, methinks, 
 really grant the conclusion which he professes to grant 
 nor the principle on which he so professes, nor does he 
 take and force himself root and branch out of life, but all 
 unconsciously imagines something of self to survive. 
 
LUCRETIUS 315 
 
 For when any one in life suggests to himself that birds 
 and beasts will rend his body after death, he makes moan 
 for himself, he does not separate himself from that self, 
 nor withdraw himself fully from the body so thrown out, 
 and fancies himself that other self and stands by and 
 impregnates it with his own sense. Hence he makes 
 much moan that he has been born mortal, and sees not 
 that after real death there will be no other self to remain 
 in life and lament to self that his own self has met death, 
 and there to stand and grieve that his own self there 
 lying is mangled or burnt. For if it is an evil after death 
 to be pulled about by the devouring jaw^s of wild beasts, 
 I cannot see why it should not be a cruel pain to be laid 
 on fires and burn in hot flames, or to be placed in honey 
 and stifled, or to stiffen with cold, stretched on the 
 smooth surface of an icy slab of stone, or to be pressed 
 down and crushed by a load of earth above. 
 
 Then ^^ there is Democritus who, when a ripe old age 
 had warned him that the memory-waking motions of his 
 mind were waning, by his own spontaneous act offered 
 up his head to death. Even Epicurus passed away, 
 when his light of life had run its course, he who surpassed 
 in intellect the race of man and quenched the light of all, 
 as the ethereal sun arisen quenches the stars. Wilt thou 
 then hesitate and think it a hardship to die ? Thou for 
 whom life is well-nigh dead whilst yet thou livest and 
 seest the light, who spendest the greater part of thy 
 time in sleep and snorest wide awake and ceasest not to 
 see visions and hast a mind troubled with groundless 
 terror and canst not discover often what it is that ails 
 thee, when besotted man thou art sore pressed on all 
 
 • " Munro's translation, p. 82. 
 
316 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 sides with full many cares and goest astray tumbling 
 about in the wayward wanderings of thy mind. 
 
 NO DESIGNER OF NATURE 
 
 But 12 in what ways yon concourse of matter founded 
 earth and heaven and the deeps of the sea, the courses 
 of the sun and moon, I will next in order describe. For 
 verily not by design did the first-beginnings of things 
 station themselves each in its right place by keen intel- 
 ligence, nor did they bargain sooth to say what motions 
 each should assume, but because the first-beginnings of 
 things, many in number in many ways impelled by blows 
 for infinite ages back and kept in motion by their own 
 w^eights, have been wont to be carried along and to unite 
 in all manner of ways and thoroughly to test every kind 
 of production possible by their mutual combinations, 
 therefore it is that, spread abroad through great time 
 after trying imions and motions of every kind, they at 
 length meet together in those masses which suddenly 
 brought together become often the rudiments of great 
 things, of earth, sea, and heaven and the race of living 
 thmgs. ^*^ 
 
 No 13 act is it of piety to be often seen with veiled 
 head to turn to a stone and approach every altar and fall 
 prostrate on the ground and spread out the palms before 
 the statues of the gods and sprinkle the altars with much 
 blood of beasts and link vow on to vow, but rather to be 
 able to look on all things with a mind at peace. 
 
 12 Munro's translation, p. 126- 
 "Ib., p. 145. 
 
XX 
 
 EPICTETUS 
 
 [Flourished about 90 a.d.] 
 
 THINGS WHICH ARE IN OUR POWER 
 
 Seek ^ at once, therefore, to be able to say to every 
 unpleasing semblance, ^'You are but a semblance and by 
 no means the real thing.'' And then examine it by those 
 rules which you have; and first and chiefly, by this: 
 whether it concerns the things which are within our own 
 power, or those which are not; and if it concerns anything 
 beyond our power, be prepared to say that it is nothing 
 to you. He 
 
 Men 2 are disturbed not by things, but by the views 
 which they take of things. Thus death is nothing terri- 
 ble, else it would have appeared so to Socrates. But the 
 terror consists in our notion of death, that it is terrible. 
 When, therefore, we are hindered, or disturbed, or grieved 
 let us never impute it to others, but to ourselves; that 
 is, to our own views. It is the action of an uninstructed 
 person to reproach others for his own misfortimes; of 
 one entering upon instruction, to reproach himself; and 
 of one perfectly instructed, to reproach neither others 
 nor himself. 
 
 » Ench. I. Higginson, II. 216. The selections from Epictetus are 
 given in T. W. Higginson's translation. I quote from the two- 
 volume edition, published in 1890. 
 
 2 lb., V. Higginson II. 218. 
 
 317 
 
318 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Demand ^ not that events should happen as you wish; 
 but wish them to happen as they do happen, and you 
 will go on well. * 
 
 Be ^ assured that the essence of piety toward the gods 
 lies in this, to form right opinions concerning them, as 
 existing; and as governing the universe justly and well. 
 And fix yourself in this resolution, to obey them, and 
 yield to them, and willingly follow them amidst all events, 
 as being ruled by the most perfect wisdom. For thus 
 you will never find fault with the gods, nor accuse them 
 of neglecting you. And it is not possible for this to be 
 effected in any other way than by withdrawing yourself 
 from things which are not within our own power, and by 
 making good or evil to consist only in those which are. 
 
 * 
 
 As ^ it was fit, then, this most excellent and superior 
 faculty alone, a right use of the appearances of things, the 
 gods have placed in our own power; but all other matters 
 they have not placed in our power. What, was it be- 
 cause they would not ? I rather think that, if they could, 
 they had granted us these too; but they certainly could 
 not. For, placed upon earth, and confined to such a body 
 and to such companions, how was it possible that, in 
 these respects, we should not be hindered by things 
 outside of us? 
 
 But what says Zeus? '^0 Epictetus, if it had been 
 possible, I had made this little body and property of thine 
 free, and not liable to hindrance. But now do not mis- 
 take; it is not thy own, but only a finer mixture of clayc 
 
 3 Ench. VIII. Higginson, II. 219. 
 *Ib., XXXI. Higginson, II. 229. 
 BTb., XXXI. Disc. I. 1. Higginson, I. p. 4. 
 
EPICTETUS 319 
 
 Since, then, I could not give thee this, I have given thee 
 a certain portion of myself; this faculty of exerting the 
 powers of pursuit and avoidance, of desire and aversion, 
 and, in a word, the use of the appearances of things. 
 Taking care of this point, and making what is thy own 
 to consist in this, thou wilt never be restrained, never 
 be hindered; thou wilt not groan, wilt not complain, wilt 
 not flatter any one. How, then? Do all these ad- 
 vantages seem small to thee? Heaven forbid! Let 
 them suffice thee, then, and thank the gods." 
 
 But now, when it is in our power to take care of one 
 thing, and to apply ourselves to one, we choose rather to 
 take care of many and to encumber ourselves with many 
 — body, property, brother, friend, child, and slave — and, 
 by this multiplicity of encumbrances, we are burdened 
 and weighed down. Thus, when the weather does not 
 happen to be fair for sailing, we sit in distress and gaze 
 out perpetually, ^liich way is the wind? North. 
 What good will that do us? When will the west blow? 
 Wlien it pleases, friend, or when^olus pleases; for Zeus 
 has not made you dispenser of the winds, but ^Eolus. 
 
 What, then, is to be done? 
 
 To make the best of what is in our power, and take 
 the rest as it occurs. 
 
 And how does it occur? 
 
 As it pleases God. 
 
 * * 
 
 Do 6 you therefore likewise, being sensible of this, 
 consider the faculties you have, and after taking a view 
 of them say, ''Bring on me now, Zeus, what difficulty 
 thou wilt, for I have faculties granted me by thee, and 
 powers by which I may win honor from every event "? 
 
 « Ench. XXXI. Disc. I. 6. Higginson, I. 26. 
 
 ^ 
 
320 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 THE ESSENCE OF GOOD 
 
 God ^ is beneficial. Good is also beneficial. It should 
 seem, then, that where the essence of God is, there too 
 is the essence of good. What then is the essence of God 
 — flesh? By no means. An estate? Fame? By no 
 means. Intelligence? Knowledge? Right reason? 
 Certainly. Here, then, without more ado, seek the 
 essence of good. For do you seek that quality in a plant ? 
 No. Or in a brute? No. If, then, you seek it only in a 
 rational subject, why do you seek it anywhere but in 
 what distinguishes that from things irrational? Plants 
 make no voluntary use of things, and therefore you do 
 not apply the term good to them. Good, then, im- 
 plies such use. And nothing else? If so, you may say 
 that good and happiness and unhappiness belong to 
 mere animals. But this you do not say, and you are 
 right; for, how much soever they have the use of things, 
 they have not the intelligent use, and with good reason, 
 for they are made to be subservient to others, and not of 
 primary importance. Why was an ass made? Was it 
 as being of primary importance? No; but because we 
 had need of a back able to carry burdens. We had need 
 too that he should be capable of locomotion; therefore 
 he had the voluntary use of things added, otherwise he 
 could not have moved. But here his endowments end; 
 for, if an understanding of that use had been likewise 
 added, he would not, in reason, have been subject to us, 
 nor have done us these services, but would have been like 
 and equal to ourselves. Why will you not, therefore, 
 seek the essence of good in that without which you 
 cannot say that there is good in anything? 
 
 » Ench. XXXI. Disc. II. 8. Higginson, I. 132-4. 
 
EPICTETUS 321 
 
 What then? Are not all these hkewise the works of 
 the gods? They are; but not primary existences, nor 
 parts of the gods. But you are a primary existence. 
 You are a distinct portion of the essence of God, and' 
 contain a certain part of him in yourself. Why then are 
 you ignorant of your noble birth? Why do not you 
 consider whence you came ? Why do not you remember, 
 when you are eating, who you are who eat, and whom 
 you feed? When you are in the company of women, 
 when you are conversing, when you are exercising, when 
 you are disputing, do not you know that it is the Divine 
 you feed, the Divine you exercise? You carry a God 
 about with you, poor wretch, and know nothing of it. 
 Do you suppose I mean some god without you of gold or 
 silver ? It is within yourself that you carry him ; and you 
 do not observe that you profane him by impure thoughts 
 and unclean actions. If the mere external image of God 
 were present, you would not dare to act as you do; and 
 when God himself is within you, and hears and sees all, 
 are not you ashamed to think and act thus — insensible 
 
 of your own nature, and at enmity with God ? 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 Does s any one fear things that seem evils indeed, 
 but which it is in his own power to prevent ? 
 
 No, surely. 
 
 If, then, the things independent of our will are neither 
 good nor evil, and all things that do depend on will are 
 in our own power, and can neither be taken away from 
 us nor given to us unless we please, what room is there 
 left for anxiety? But we are anxious about this paltry 
 body or estate of ours, or about what Caesar thinks, and 
 not at all about anything internal. Are we ever anxious 
 
 » Ench. XXXI. Disc, 11. 13. Higginson, I. 153-4. 
 
322 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 not to take up a false opinion? No; for this is within 
 our own powder. Or not to follow any pursuit contrary 
 to nature? No, nor this. When, therefore, you see any 
 one pale with anxiety, just as the physician pronounces 
 from the complexion that such a patient is disordered in 
 the spleen, and another in the liver, so do you likewise 
 say, this man is disordered in his desires and aversions; 
 he cannot walk steadily; he is in a fever. For nothing 
 else changes the complexion, or causes trembling, or sets 
 the teeth chattering. 
 
 AS SOCRATES WOULD HAVE DONE 
 
 When ^ you are going to confer with any one, and 
 especially wuth one w^ho seems your superior, represent 
 to yourself how Socrates or Zeno would behave in such a 
 case, and you will not be at a loss to meet properly what- 
 ever may occur. . . . When you do anything from a 
 clear judgment that it ought to be done, never shrink 
 from being seen to do it, even though the world should 
 misunderstand it; for if you are not acting rightly, shun 
 the action itseK; if you are, why fear those who wrongly 
 censure you ? 
 
 * * 
 
 Everything 1° has two handles: one by which it may 
 be borne, another by which it cannot. If your brother 
 acts unjustly, do not lay hold on the affair by the handle 
 of his injustice, for by that it cannot be borne; but rather 
 by the opposite, that he is your brother, that he was 
 brought up with you; and thus you will lay hold on it as 
 it is to be borne. 
 
 » Ench. XXXIII. and XXXV. Higginson, II. 234-5. 
 10 lb., XLIII. Higginson, II. 238. 
 
EPICTETUS 323 
 
 Never ^^ proclaim yourself a philosopher; nor make 
 much talk among the ignorant about your principles, 
 but show them by actions. Thus, at an entertainment 
 do not discourse how people ought to eat; but eat as you 
 ought. For remember that thus Socrates also universally 
 avoided all ostentation. And when persons came to 
 him, and desired to be introduced by him to philosophers, 
 he took them and introduced them; so well did he bear 
 being overlooked. So if ever there should be among the 
 ignorant any discussion of principles, be for the most part 
 silent. For there is great danger in hastily throwing out 
 what is undigested. And if any one tells you that you 
 know nothing, and you are not nettled at it, then you 
 may be sure that you have really entered on your work. 
 For sheep do not hastily throw up the grass, to show the 
 shepherds how much they have eaten; but, inwardly 
 digesting their food, they produce it outwardly in wool 
 and milk. Thus, therefore, do you not make an exhi- 
 bition before the ignorant of your principles; but of the 
 actions to which their digestion gives rise. 
 
 * * 
 Whatever ^^ rules you have adopted, abide by them 
 as laws, and as if you would be impious to transgress 
 them; and do not regard what any one says of you, for 
 this, after all, is no concern of yours. . . . Let whatever 
 appears to be the best, be to you an inviolable law. 
 And if any instance of pain or pleasure, glory or disgrace, 
 be set before you, remember that now is the combat, 
 now the Olympiad comes on, nor can it be put off; and 
 that by one failure and defeat honor may be lost — or 
 won. Thus Socrates became perfect, improving himself 
 
 " Ench. XL VI. Higginson, II. 239. 
 "lb., L. Higginson, II. 241. 
 
324 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 by everything, following reason alone. And though 
 you are not yet a Socrates, you ought, however, to live 
 as one seeking to be a Socrates. 
 
 IN HARMONY WITH GOD AND HIS UNIVERSE 
 
 All 13 things serve and obey the [laws of the] universe : 
 the earth, the sea, the sun, the stars, and the plants and 
 animals of the earth. Our body likewise obeys the same, 
 in being sick and well, young and old, and passing 
 through the other changes decreed. It is therefore 
 reasonable that what depends on ourselves, that is, our 
 own understanding, should not be the only rebel. For 
 the universe is powerful and superior, and consults the 
 best for us by governing us in conjunction with the 
 whole. And further, opposition, besides that it is un- 
 reasonable, and produces nothing except a vain struggle, 
 throws us into pain and sorrows. 
 
 Bring ^^ whatever you please, and I will turn it into 
 good. Bring sickness, death, want, reproach, trial for 
 life. All these, by the rod of Hermes, shall turn to ad- 
 vantage. ''What will you make of death ?'' Why, what 
 but an ornament to you ; what but a means of your show- 
 ing, by action, what that man is who knows and follow^s 
 the will of Nature? ''"What will you make of sickness?" 
 I will show its nature. I will make a good figure in it; 
 I will be composed and happy; I will not beseech my 
 physician, nor yet will I pray to die. What need you ask 
 further? Whatever you give me, I will make it happy, 
 fortunate, respectable, and eligible. 
 
 No, but, "take care not to be sick — it is an evil.'' 
 
 " Fr. CXXXI. Higginson, II. 276. 
 " Disc. III. 20. Hiffginson, II. 59. 
 
EPICTETUS 325 
 
 Just as if one should say, 'Take care that the semblance 
 of three being four does not present itself to you. It is 
 an evil." How an evil, man? If I think as I ought 
 about it, what hurt will it any longer do me ? Will it not 
 rather be even an advantage to me ? If then I think as I 
 ought of poverty, of sickness, of political disorder, is not 
 that enough for me ? Why then must I any longer seek 
 good or evil in externals ? 
 
 * * 
 For 1^ all other pleasures substitute the consciousness 
 that you are obeying God, and performing not in word, 
 but in deed, the duty of a wise and good man. How 
 great a thing is it to be able to say to yourself: ''What 
 others are now solemnly arguing in the schools, and can 
 state in paradoxes, this I put in practice. Those quali- 
 ties which are there discoursed, disputed, celebrated, I 
 have made mine own. Zeus hath been pleased to let 
 me recognize this within myself, and himself to discern 
 whether he hath in me one fit for a soldier and a citizen, 
 and to employ me as a witness to other men, concerning 
 things uncontrollable by will. See that your fears were 
 vain, your appetites vain. Seek not good from without; 
 seek it within yourselves, or you will never find it. For 
 this reason he now brings me hither, now sends me thither; 
 sets me before mankind, poor, powerless, sick; banishes 
 me to Gyaros; leads me to prison; not that he hates me — 
 Heaven forbid! for who hates the most faithful of his 
 servants? — nor that he neglects me, for he neglects not 
 one of the smallest things; but to exercise me, and make 
 use of me as a witness to others. Appointed to such a 
 service, do I still care where I am, or with whom, or 
 what is said of me — instead of being wholly attentive to 
 God and to his orders and commands?" 
 
 » Disc. III. 24. Higginson. II. 107. 
 
XXI 
 
 MARCUS AURELIUS 
 
 [120-180 A.D.] 
 
 FOLLOW NATURE 
 
 Do 1 thou therefore I say absolutely and freely make 
 choice of that which is best, and stick unto it. Now, 
 that they say is best which is most profitable. If they 
 mean profitable to man as he is a rational man, stand 
 thou to it and maintain it; but if they mean profitable 
 as he is a creature only, reject it; and from this thy 
 tenet and conclusion keep off carefully all plausible 
 shows and colors of external appearance, that thou 
 mayst be able to discern things rightly. 
 
 * * 
 
 The end ^ and object of a rational constitution is, to 
 do nothing rashly, to be kindly affected toward men, 
 and in all things willingly to submit unto the gods. 
 Casting therefore all other things aside, keep thyself to 
 these few, and remember withal that no man properly 
 can be said to live more than that which is now present, 
 which is but a moment of time. Whatsoever is besides 
 either is already past, or is uncertain. The time there- 
 fore that any man doth live is but a little, and the place 
 where he liveth is but a very little corner of the earth, and 
 
 * Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, III. 7. The extracts from Marcus 
 Aurelius are, save for a few unimportant changes, given in the 
 translation made by Casaubon early in the 17th century. 
 
 2 lb.. III. 10. 
 
 326 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 327 
 
 the greatest fame that can remain of a man after his 
 death, even that is but httle, and that too, such as it is 
 whilst it is, is by the succession of silly mortal men pre- 
 served, who likewise shall shortly die, and even while 
 they live know not what in very deed they themselves 
 are: and much less can know one who long before is 
 dead and gone. ^ 
 
 Whatsoever ^ is expedient unto thee, World, is 
 expedient unto me. Nothing can either be unseasonable 
 unto me, or out of date, which unto thee is seasonable. 
 Whatsoever thy seasons bear shall ever by me be es- 
 teemed as happy fruit and increase. Nature! from 
 thee are all things, in thee all things subsist, and to thee 
 all tend. Could he say of Athens, Thou lovely City of 
 Cecrops ; and shalt not thou say of the World, Thou lovely 
 City of God? . ^*^ 
 
 He ^ that seeth the things that are now hath seen all 
 that either was ever or ever shall be, for all things are of 
 one kind and all like one unto another. Meditate often 
 upon the connection of all things in the world, and upon 
 the mutual relation that they have one unto another. 
 For all things are after a sort folded and involved one 
 within another, and by these means all agree well to- 
 gether. For one thing is consequent unto another by 
 local motion, by natural conspiration and agreement, 
 and by substantial union or the reduction of all sub- 
 stances into One. 
 
 Fit and accommodate thyself to that estate and to 
 those occurrences which by the destinies have been 
 annexed unto thee ; and love those men whom thy fate 
 
 3 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, IV. 19. 
 «Ib., VI. 34-5. 
 
328 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 it is to live with; but love them truly. An instrument, 
 a tool, an utensil, whatsoever it be, if it be fit for the 
 purpose it was made for it is as it should be, though he 
 perchance that made and fitted it be out of sight and 
 gone. But in things natural, that power which hath 
 framed and fitted them is and abideth within them still. 
 For which reason she ought also the more to be respected, 
 and we are the more obliged (if we may live and pass our 
 time according to her purpose and intention) to think 
 that all is well with us and according to our own minds. 
 After this manner also ... He that is all in all doth 
 enjoy his happiness. * 
 
 We ^ all work to one effect, some willingly and with a 
 rational apprehension of what we do, others without any 
 
 such knowledge. ^ 
 
 * * 
 
 If 6 so be that the gods have deliberated in particular 
 of those things that should happen unto me, I must 
 stand to their deliberation, as discreet and wise. For 
 that a god should be an imprudent god is a thing hard 
 even to conceive. And why should they resolve to do 
 me hurt? For what profit either unto them or the 
 universe (which they specially take care for) could arise 
 from it ? But if so be that they have not deliberated of 
 me in particular, certainly they have of the whole in 
 general, and those things which in consequence and 
 coherence of this general deliberation happen unto me 
 in particular I am bound to embrace and accept of. But 
 if so be that . . . they have not indeed, either in 
 general or particular, deliberated of any of those things 
 that happen unto us in this world, yet God be thanked 
 
 » Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, VI. 37. 
 •lb., VI. 39. 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 329 
 
 that of those things that concern myself it is lawful for 
 me to deliberate myself, and all my deliberation is but 
 concerning that which may be to me most profitable. 
 Now that unto every one is most profitable which is 
 according to his own constitution and nature. And my 
 nature is to be rational in all my actions and, as a 
 good and natural member of a city and commonwealth, 
 toward my fellow-members ever to be sociably and 
 kindly disposed and affected. My city and country as 
 I am Antoninus is Rome; as a man, the whole world. 
 Those things therefore that are expedient and profitable 
 to those cities are the only things that are good and 
 expedient for me. * 
 
 Either '^ with Epicurus we must fondly imagine the 
 atoms to be the cause of all things, or we must needs 
 grant a nature. Let this then be thy first ground, that 
 thou art part of that universe which is governed by 
 nature. Then, secondly, that to those parts that are 
 of the same kind and nature as thou art thou hast 
 relation of kindred. For of these if I shall always be 
 mindful, first, as I am a part, I shall never be displeased 
 with anything that falls to my particular share of the 
 common chances of the world. For nothing that i^ 
 behooveful unto the whole can be truly hurtful to that 
 which is a part of it. For this being the common 
 privilege of all natures, that they contain nothing in 
 themselves that is hurtful unto them, it cannot be that 
 the nature of the universe (whose privilege beyond other 
 particular natures is that she cannot against her will 
 by any higher external cause be constrained) should 
 beget anything and cherish it in her bosom that should 
 
 7 Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, X. 6. 
 
330 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 tend to her own hurt and prejudice. As then I bear in 
 mind that I am a part of such an universe I shall not be 
 displeased with anything that happens. And as I have 
 relation of kindred to those parts that are of the same 
 kind and nature that I am, so I shall be careful to do 
 nothing that is prejudicial to the community, but in all 
 my deliberations shall they that are of my kind ever be ; 
 and the common good shall be that which all my 
 intentions and resolutions shall drive unto, just as that 
 which is contrary unto it I shall by all means endeavor 
 to prevent and avoid. These things once so fixed and 
 concluded, as thou wouldest think him an happy citizen 
 whose constant study and practice were for the good and 
 benefit of his fellow-citizens, and the carriage of the 
 city such toward him that he were well pleased with it 
 — so must it needs be with thee that thou shalt live a 
 happy life. ^*^ 
 
 Ever s consider and think upon the world as being but 
 ^ one Uving substance and having but one soul; and how 
 all things in the world are terminated into one sensitive 
 power, and are done by one general motion, as it were, 
 and by the deliberation of that one soul; and how all 
 things that are concur in the cause of one another's 
 being, and by what manner of connection and con- 
 catenation all things happen. 
 
 What art thou, that better and divine part excepted, 
 but as Epictetus well said, a wretched soul appointed to 
 carry a carcass up and down? 
 
 To suffer change can be no hurt; as no benefit it is by 
 change to attain to being. The age and time of the 
 world is as it were a flood and swift current, consisting 
 
 « Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, IV. 33-4. 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 331 
 
 of the things that are brought to pass in the world. For 
 as soon as anything hath appeared and is passed away 
 another succeeds, and that also will pass presently out 
 of sight. * 
 
 They ^ will say commonly, Meddle not with many 
 things if thou wilt live cheerfully. Certainly there is 
 nothing better than for a man to confine himself to 
 necessary actions; to such and so many only as reason 
 in a creature that knows itseK born for society will 
 command and enjoin. This will not only procure that 
 cheerfulness, w^hich from the goodness, but that also 
 which from the paucity of actions doth usually proceed. 
 For since it is so, that most of those things which we 
 either speak or do are unnecessary, if a man shall cut 
 them off, it must needs follow that he shall thereby gain 
 much leisure and save much trouble; and therefore at 
 every action a man must privately by way of admonition 
 suggest unto himself, What? may not this that now I 
 go about be of the number of unnecessary actions? 
 Neither must he accustom himself to cut off actions only, 
 but also thoughts and imaginations that are unnecessary ; 
 for so will unnecessary consequent actions the better be 
 prevented and cut off. 
 
 THE HARMONY OF THE UNIVERSE 
 
 All 1° parts of the world (all things I mean that are 
 contained within the whole world) must of necessity at 
 some time or other come to corruption. Alteration I 
 should say, to speak truly and properly; but that I may 
 be the better understood I am content at this time to use 
 that more common word. Now, say I, if so be that this 
 
 " Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, IV. 20. 
 »o lb., X. 7. 
 
332 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 be both hurtful unto them and yet unavoidable, would 
 not, thinkest thou, the whole itself be in a sweet case, all 
 the parts of it being subject to alteration — yea and by 
 their making the whole itself fitted for corruption as 
 consisting of things different and contrary? And did 
 nature then either of herself thus project and purpose the 
 affliction and misery of' her parts, and therefore of pur- 
 pose so made them, not only that haply they might, but 
 of necessity that they should fall into evil; or did not she 
 know what she did when she made them? For to say 
 either of these things is equally absurd. But to let 
 pass nature in general, and to reason of things particular 
 according to their own particular natures, how absurd 
 and ridiculous is it, first to say that all parts of the 
 whole are by their proper natural constitution subject 
 to alteration, and then when any such thing doth happen 
 as when one doth fall sick and dieth, to take on and 
 wonder as though some strange thing had happened? 
 Though this besides might move us not to take on so 
 grievously when any such thing doth happen, that 
 whatsoever is dissolved is dissolved into those things 
 whereof it was compounded. For every dissolution is 
 either a mere dispersion of the elements into those 
 elements again whereof everything did consist, or a 
 change of that which is more solid into earth, and of 
 that which is pure and subtile or spiritual into air. So 
 that by this means nothing is lost, but all is resumed 
 again into those rational generative seeds of the universe, 
 and this universe is either after a certain period of time 
 to be consumed by fire or by continual changes to be 
 renewed, and so forever to endure. Now, that solid and 
 spiritual that we speak of, thou must not conceive it to 
 be that very same which at first was when thou wert 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 333 
 
 born. For alas! all this that now thou art in either kind, 
 either for matter of substance or of life, hath but two 
 or three days ago, partly from meats eaten and partly 
 from air breathed in, received all its influx, being the 
 same then in no other respect than a running river, 
 maintained by the perpetual influx and new supply of 
 waters, is the same. That therefore which thou hast 
 since received, not that which came from thy mother, 
 is that which comes to change and corruption. But sup- 
 pose that that for the general substance and more solid 
 part of it should still cleave unto thee never so close, yet 
 what is that to the proper qualities and affections of it 
 by which persons are distinguished, which certainly are 
 quite different? * 
 
 Whatsoever ^^ doth happen in the world is, in the 
 course of nature, as usual and ordinary as a rose in the 
 spring and fruit in summer. Of the same nature is 
 sickness and death, slander and lying in wait, and 
 whatsoever else ordinarily doth unto fools use to be 
 occasion either of joy or sorrow. That, whatsoever it 
 is that comes after, doth always very naturally, and as 
 it were familiarly, follow upon that which was before. 
 For thou must consider the things of the w^orld not as a 
 loose independent number consisting merely of neces- 
 sary events, but as a discreet connection of things orderly 
 and harmoniously disposed. There is then to be seen 
 in the things of the world, not a bare succession, but an 
 admirable correspondence and affinity. 
 
 *** 
 
 As^^ we say commonly, the physician hath prescribed 
 
 unto this man riding; unto another, cold baths; unto a 
 
 " Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, IV. 36. 
 12 lb., V. 8. 
 
334 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 third, to go barefoot : so it is alike to say, The nature of 
 the universe hath prescribed unto this man sickness or 
 blindness or some loss or damage or some such thing. 
 For as there, when we say of a physician that he hath 
 prescribed anything, our meaning is that he hath ap- 
 pointed this for that, as subordinate and conducing to 
 health; so here, whatsoever doth happen unto any is 
 ordained unto him as a thing subordinate unto the fates, 
 and therefore do we say of such things that they do 
 avfjL^alvecv, that is, happen, or fall together; as of square 
 stones, when either in walls or pyramids in a certain 
 position they fit one another, and agree as it were in an 
 harmony, the masons say that they do avfi^alveiv] as 
 if thou shouldst say, fall together. So that in general 
 though the things be divers that make it, yet the consent 
 or harmony itself is but one. And as the whole world is 
 made up of all the particular bodies of the world, one 
 perfect and complete body of the same nature as par- 
 ticular bodies : so is the destiny of particular causes and 
 events one general one, of the same nature that particular 
 causes are. What I now say even they that are mere 
 idiots are not ignorant of, for they say commonly rovro 
 €(f)6pev avTQ), that is. This his Destiny hath brought upon 
 him. This therefore is by the Fates properly and par- 
 ticularly brought upon this, as that unto this in par- 
 ticular is by the physician prescribed. These therefore 
 let us accept of in like manner as we do those that are 
 prescribed unto us by our physicians. For them also 
 in themselves shall we find to contain many harsh things, 
 but we nevertheless, in hope of health and recovery, 
 accept of them. Let the fulfilling and accomplishment 
 of those things which the common nature hath de- 
 termined be unto thee as thy health. Accept them, 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 335 
 
 an(^ be pleased with whatsoever doth happen though 
 otherwise harsh and unpleasing, as tending to that end, 
 to the health and welfare of the universe, and to Jove's 
 happiness and prosperity. For this, whatsoever it be, 
 would not have been produced had it not conduced to the 
 good of the imi verse. For neither doth any ordinary 
 particular nature bring anything to pass that is not 
 agreeable and subordinate to whatsoever is within the 
 sphere of its own proper administration and government. 
 For these two considerations then thou must be well ^ 
 pleased with anything that doth happen unto thee. 
 First, because for thee properly it was brought to pass 
 and unto thee it was prescribed, and from the very 
 beginning, by the series and connection of the first 
 causes, it hath ever had a reference unto thee. And 
 secondly, because the good success and perfect welfare, 
 and indeed the very continuance of Him that is the 
 Administrator of the whole, doth in a manner depend on 
 it. For the whole (because whole, therefore entire and 
 perfect) is maimed and mutilated if thou shalt cut off 
 anything at all whereby the coherence and contiguity 
 (as of parts, so) of causes is maintained and preserved. 
 Of which certain it is that thou dost (as much as lieth 
 in thee) cut off, and in some sort violently take some- 
 what away, as often as thou art displeased with any- 
 thing that happeneth. * 
 
 Thou ^^ must comfort thyself in the expectation of thy 
 natural dissolution and in the meantime not grieve at the 
 delay, but rest contented in these two things : First, that*^ 
 nothing shall happen unto thee which is not according 
 to the nature of the universe. Secondly, that it is in^- 
 
 " Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, V. 10. 
 
-^ 
 
 336 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 thy power to refrain from doing anything contrary to 
 thine own proper god and inward spirit. For it is not in 
 any man's power to constrain thee to transgress against 
 him. 
 
 man's insignificance and his grandeur 
 
 What 1^ a small portion of vast and infinite eternity 
 it is that is allowed unto every one of us, and how soon 
 it vanisheth into the general age of the world. Of the 
 common substance and of the common soul also, what a 
 small portion is allotted unto us, and in what a little clod 
 of the whole earth it is that thou dost crawl. After 
 thou shalt rightly have considered these things with 
 thyself fancy not anything else in the world any more 
 to be of any weight and moment, but this: to do that 
 only which thine own nature doth require, and to con- 
 form thyself to that which the common nature doth 
 afford. 
 
 What is the present estate of my understanding? 
 For herein lieth all indeed. As for all other things they 
 are without the compass of mine own will, and if without 
 the compass of my will then are they as dead things unto 
 me and as it were mere smoke. 
 
 To stir up a man to the contempt of death this among 
 other things is of good power and efficacy, that even they 
 who esteemed pleasure to be happiness and pain misery 
 did nevertheless many of them contemn death as much 
 as any. And can death be terrible to him to whom that 
 only seems good which in the ordinary course of nature 
 is seasonable? to him to whom, whether his actions be 
 many or few, so they be all good, is all one; and who, 
 whether he behold the things of the world being always 
 the same, either for many years or for few years only, is 
 
 " Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, XII. 25. 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 337 
 
 altogether indifferent ? man ! as a citizen thou hast lived 
 and conversed in this great City the World. Whether 
 just for so many years or no, what is it unto thee ? Thou 
 hast lived (thou mayst be sure) as long as the laws and 
 orders of the city required; which may be the common 
 comfort of all. Why then should it be grievous unto thee 
 if [not a tyrant nor an unjust judge, but] the same nature 
 that brought thee into the world doth now send thee out 
 of it ? It is as if the praetor should fairly dismiss him from 
 the stage whom he had taken in to act a while. Oh, 
 but the play is not yet at an end, there are but three acts 
 yet acted of it ? Thou hast well said, for in matter of life 
 three acts is the whole play. Now to set a certain time 
 to every man's acting belongs unto him only who as 
 first he was the cause of thy composition so now is he the 
 cause of thy dissolution. As for thyself, thou hast to 
 do with neither. Go thy ways then well pleased and 
 contented, for so is He that dismisseth thee. 
 
 * * 
 To ^^ live happily is an inward power of the soul when 
 
 she is affected with indifference toward those things 
 that are by their nature indifferent. To be thus affected 
 she must consider all worldly objects, both divided and 
 whole, remembering withal that no object can of itself 
 beget any opinion in us, neither can come to us, but 
 stands without, still and quiet; but that we ourselves 
 beget, and as it were print in ourselves, opinions con- 
 cerning them. Now it is in our power not to print 
 them; and if they creep in and lurk in some corner, it 
 is in our power to wipe them off. Remembering, more- 
 over, that this care and circumspection of thine is to 
 continue but for a while, and then thy life will be at an 
 
 " Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, XI. 15. 
 
338 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 end. And what should hinder but that thou mayst 
 do well with all these things? For if they be according 
 to nature, rejoice in them and let them be pleasing and 
 acceptable unto thee. But if they be against nature, 
 seek thou that which is according to thine own nature, 
 and whether it be for thy credit or no, use all possible 
 speed for the attainment of it; for no man ought to be 
 
 blamed for seeking his own good and happiness. 
 
 * 
 
 Cast ^^ aw^ay from thee opinion and thou art safe. 
 And what is it that hinders thee from casting it away? 
 When thou art grieved at anything hast thou forgotten 
 that all things happen according to the nature of the 
 universe, and that him only it concerns who is in fault, 
 and moreover that what is now done is that which from 
 ever hath been done in the world and will ever be done, 
 and is now done everywhere ? Hast thou forgotten how 
 closely all men are allied one to another by a kindred, 
 not of blood nor of seed, but of the same mind? Thou 
 hast also forgotten that every man's mind partakes of 
 the Deity and issueth from thence, and that no man can 
 properly call anything his own, no, not his son, nor his 
 body, nor his life, for they all proceed from that One 
 who is the giver of all things: that all things are but 
 opinion ; that no man lives properly but that very instant 
 of time which is now present, and therefore that no man, 
 whensoever he dieth, can properly be said to lose any 
 more than an instant of time. 
 
 * * 
 
 How 1^ easy a thing it is for a man to put off from 
 
 him all turbulent adventitious imaginations, and pres- 
 ently to be in perfect rest and tranquillity! 
 
 " Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, XII. 19. 
 " lb., V. 2. 
 
MARCUS AURELIUS 339 
 
 Think thyself fit and worthy to speak or to do any-, 
 thing that is according to nature, and let not the re- 
 proach or report of some that may ensue upon it ever 
 deter thee. If it be right and honest to be spoken or 
 done, undervalue not thyseK so much as to be discouraged 
 from it. As for them, they have their own rational 
 overruling part and their own proper inclination, which 
 thou must not stand and look about to take notice of, but 
 go on straight whither both thine own particular and the 
 common nature do lead thee; and the way of both these is 
 but one. 
 
XXII 
 PLOTINUS t 
 
 [205-270 A.D.] 
 
 THE SOUL 
 
 Ake 1 we ail immortal? Or do we utterly perish? 
 Or, a third alternative, does part of us pass way into 
 dissolution and destruction while part — the real self- 
 is everlasting? These are questions which we might 
 naturally investigate and learn to answer, after the 
 following fashion. 
 
 Man, we might say, is not something simple, but has 
 within him a soul. He has also a body attached to him, 
 it may be as an instrument, it may be in some other 
 capacity. Let us then distinguish the soul from the 
 body and have a look at the nature and character of them 
 both. Evidently a body which is composite cannot in 
 reason be lasting. Moreover our senses perceive its 
 dissolution and disintegration and liability to corruption 
 of every sort, the reversion of its ingredients each to 
 its proper nature, the destruction of one part by another, 
 and their change and corruption into things other than 
 
 iPlotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, §1, 456 (C. p. 843; V. II. p. 120). 
 The chapters referred to are those of the Creuzer text. Where 
 it seemed advisable to do so page references to this text — abbre- 
 viated as C. — are added, and parallel references to the Volkmann 
 text in the Teubner series — abbreviated as V. 
 
 t Dr. B. A. G. Fuller has made the selection and the translation 
 f the i>as8ages from Plotinus. 
 
 340 
 
PLOTINUS 341 
 
 they were. This is particularly noticeable whenever 
 the soul, which puts them in accord, is not present in a 
 mass of matter. Then, too, though each thing in the 
 process of generation becomes an individual, it is not 
 an unit, since it can be resolved into form and matter. 
 Hence even the simple bodies are compound. Again 
 it is a fact that since whatever is corporeal has magnitude 
 and can be divided and broken up into bits, it must for 
 this reason also be subject to corruption. 
 
 It follows that if the body be a part of us, the whole of 
 us is not immortal. And if it be an instrument, it must 
 be given to us for a certain time as such. But the 
 dominant part and the essential man himself would bear 
 the same relation to the body as form to matter, or as 
 a man to the instrument he uses. 
 
 In either case, however, the soul is the man's real self. 
 
 * * 
 
 What 2 now is the nature of the soul ? If the soul be 
 corporeal, it can be wholly disintegrated, seeing that 
 everything corporeal is, as we have said, composite. 
 If it be not corporeal, but of another nature, we must 
 investigate this, too, either after the old or after some 
 other fashion. In the first place [if the soul be corporeal] 
 we must inquire into what this body which they call the 
 soul can be resolved. For since life is necessarily at 
 hand in the soul, this body — which the soul is — must, 
 if it consist of two or more bodies, have life innate in 
 both or each, or one only, or none of these bodies. If 
 life belongs to one of them this body would be the soul. 
 But what kind of body would that be which was 
 naturally animate? For fire, and water, and air, and 
 earth are naturally inanimate, and whenever any one of 
 
 2 Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, § 2. 
 
342 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 them has soul present in it it has possessed itseK of life 
 as of something imported from without. But, besides 
 fire, air, water, and earth there are no bodies. And 
 even such as believe that there are elements different 
 from those enumerated, call them bodies, not souls, and 
 ascribe no life to them. 
 
 If, however, no one of the bodies [which make up the 
 soul] is possessed of life, it is absurd to think that their 
 conjunction has created life. And if each of them is 
 animate, then one of them is sufficient for our purpose. 
 It is pecuHarly impossible, however, that a combina- 
 tion of bodies should produce life or that intellect should 
 be produced by that which is without it. Moreover, 
 it is not maintained that life is produced by any random 
 commingling. There must be then a principle which is 
 directive and causes the mixture. But this would take 
 the place of the soul. In fine, there could be no com- 
 posite, nor even any simple body in being were there not 
 soul in the universe, if indeed it be a seminal reason 
 entering into matter which makes a body, and a seminal 
 reason can come from nowhere except from soul. . . . 
 
 * * 
 
 For 3 there could be no body were there no psychic 
 power existent, since the corporeal is in flux and its 
 nature in motion, and would be immediately destroyed 
 if there were nothing but the corporeal. This would be 
 true even if one gave the name ''soul" to one of these 
 bodies, since this would fare like the others, seeing that 
 they would be of one matter. Or rather, there would 
 be no generation at all, but all things would remain mere 
 matter for the lack of anything to give them form. 
 
 'Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, § 3, 458 C (C. p. 847, 1. 15 et seq.; 
 V. II. 122, 1. 17 et seq.). 
 
I 
 
 PLOTINUS 343 
 
 Perhaps, too, there would not be even any matter, and 
 this world-all would be dissolved, if one trusted for its 
 existence to the conjunction of the corporeal, and gave 
 to this the place of soul, at any rate, so far as the name 
 went, ascribing it to air and to spirits which are most 
 dissoluble and without any unity of themselves. For, 
 I ask you, in view of the divisibility of all corporeal 
 things, will not the man who confides this universe to 
 any one of them, thereby make it unintelligent and 
 borne about at random? What ordering principle is 
 there in animal spirits which owe their order to soul, or 
 what reason or what intelligence? But if soul exists, 
 then all these things are ministrant to her constitution 
 of the world and of the individual living being, in that 
 one power proceeding from another contributes to the 
 whole. Were she, however, not present in things, they 
 would have no being at all, let alone an orderly ex- 
 istence. ... * 
 
 That ^ if the soul were corporeal there would be no 
 sensation nor thought nor undertaking nor virtue nor 
 anything beautiful is clear also from the following con- 
 siderations : If one thing is to perceive another it must 
 be one, and grasp everything in the same operation, even 
 though the incoming perception be multiple and enter 
 through several senses, or there be several qualities of one 
 object, or through the oneness there appear a variety, 
 as in the case of a face. For one operation does not 
 perceive a nose, another the eyes, but the same operation 
 perceives all things together. Moreover, if one sensa- 
 tion come through the eyes, another through the hearing, 
 
 *Plotinu8, Enneads, IV. 7, § 6, 461 A (C. p. 853, 1. 3 et seq.; 
 V. II. 126, 1. 11 et seq.). 
 
344 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 there must be some one thing to which both come. 
 Otherwise, if they did not come both together to thisf 
 same something, how could one say that the perceptions 
 were different? This something must be hke a centre to 
 which the sensations from all sides penetrate like lines 
 converging from the circumference of a circle. Such 
 then is the apperceptive faculty — a real unity. . . . 
 
 * * 
 We ^ may also see the same thing from the case of pain 
 and the sensation of pain. Whenever a man says that 
 his finger hurts, the pain naturally has to do with his 
 finger, but the sensation of pain, it will of course be 
 agreed, has to do with the ruling faculty. Although the 
 part hurt is different from it, the ruling faculty per- 
 ceives the animal spirits and the whole soul suffers the 
 same pain. Now how does this happen? By trans- 
 mission, it is said, in that first the animal spirits which 
 are connected with the finger suffer and hand on their 
 suffering to the next part in turn, and this to still 
 another, and so on till it reaches the ruling faculty. 
 Necessarily then, if the part hurt first feels, the sensa- 
 tion of the second part will be another sensation — in case, 
 I mean, sensation is by transmission, — and that of the 
 third still another. In this way there will be many, in- 
 deed innumerable sensations of the one pain generated, 
 and finally the ruling faculty will feel them all, and its 
 own pain besides. The truth is that on this theory each 
 one of these parts will not feel the pain in the finger, but 
 the part next the finger will feel that the palm of the 
 hand hurts, and the third that there is a pain somewhere 
 else higher up. 
 
 » Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, § 7, 462 A (C. p. 865, I. 9 et seq. ; 
 V. II. 128, 1. 3 et seq.). 
 
PLOTINUS 345 
 
 So there will be many pains, and the ruling faculty 
 will not perceive the pain in the finger but the pain in 
 itself. Only of this last will it be conscious, and will 
 pay no heed to the other pains, and will not understand 
 that it is the finger which is hurting. A sensation then 
 of pain in the finger cannot be generated by transmission, 
 nor can any one part of the body — which is an extended 
 mass — be aware of another's suffering, since in every 
 extended object when one part is in one place the others 
 are in other places. Hence, I say it is necessary to con- 
 ceive the perceiving faculty as throughout identical 
 with itself. But such a conception is not appropriate 
 to body but to some other form of being. 
 
 * * 
 
 That ^ thought also is impossible if the soul be a body 
 of any sort is to be proved as follows. If sensation be 
 the soul's perceiving sensible objects with the help of 
 the body, then thought also cannot be comprehension 
 through the instrumentality of the body, since in that 
 case it will be the same as sensation. If then thought 
 be comprehension of objects without the aid of the body, 
 surely that which thinks has even a stronger claim 
 to not being body. Again, if sensation be of sensible 
 objects, thought is of intelligible objects. If our oppo- 
 nents will not grant this, they must at least grant that 
 there are thoughts of some intelligible objects, and ap- 
 prehensions of things which have no extension. But 
 then how can that which has extension think that which 
 has not, and with its divisible nature think the indi- 
 visible? Do you say, with some indivisible portion of 
 itself? In that case, however, that which thinks will 
 not be a body. For under these circumstances there 
 
 « Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, § 8. 
 
346 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 will be no need of the whole for the contact of thought 
 with its object, but a single part will suffice. 
 
 Moreover, if it be conceded that the most abstract 
 thoughts are of things in every respect pure of the 
 corporeal, what thinks, also, by virtue of being or be- 
 coming pure of the corporeal, attains knowledge of them. 
 And if it be asserted that thoughts are of forms inhering 
 in matter, then the thoughts of the forms are attained 
 only by abstracting the bodies, and it is intellect which 
 does the abstracting. There is, for instance, no residuum 
 of flesh or of matter of any sort in the abstractions of a 
 circle, a triangle, a line, or a point. The soul then, when 
 at such work, must of necessity abstract herself from 
 the body. It follows that she herself cannot be body. 
 I think also that the beautiful and the right are not 
 extended things, and that hence the thought of them 
 cannot be extended. So, when these things meet her, 
 she will receive them with the indivisible part of herself, 
 and they will lie in her indivisible seK. . . . 
 
 Again there is the question whether the soul grasp the 
 maxims of virtue and other intelligible objects as things 
 eternal, or virtue be generated and must needs perish 
 again. But what destroys it, and whence does it spring? 
 For this again would abide. Virtue then must belong 
 to the eternal and abiding, as do geometrical entities. 
 But if it belongs to the eternal and the abiding, it is not 
 corporeal. And that in which it resides must also be 
 incorporeal, and cannot be a body. For all corporeal 
 nature abides not, but is in flux. . . . But if the soul 
 be neither body nor any property of body but rather 
 active and creative, and possessed of much, both in and 
 of herself, she must be a separate essence from bodies. 
 What kind of an essence then ? Clearly she must be that 
 
I 
 
 PLOTINUS 347 
 
 which we call real essence. For the corporeal might all 
 be called a ^process, but not an essence, seeing that it is 
 in a process of generation and corruption and never for a 
 moment really is anything, but by its participation in 
 being is kept in existence to the degree that it does par- 
 ticipate in it. . . . * 
 
 There ^ is then another nature that of itseK possesses 
 all real being such as is neither generated nor destroyed. 
 For all things else would pass away and never again come 
 into existence, if this were destroyed, since this it is 
 which preserves them and this universe, keeping them 
 in existence and in order through the mediation of 
 soul. ... * 
 
 That ^ the soul is akin to the diviner and eternal 
 nature is made clear by the facts that she has been proven 
 to be incorporeal, has neither form nor color, and is 
 intangible. But there are other proofs as well. And 
 since we are agreed that everything divine and possessed 
 of real being enjoys a good and rational life, our next 
 task is to start with our own soul and inquire what her 
 nature is. Let us take then a soul — not one sunk in the 
 body which has laid hold of irrational desires and 
 emotions and received into herself other passions, but 
 one which has sloughed these all off and has as little 
 commerce as possible with the body. Such an one 
 shows clearly that evil is a foreign accretion on the 
 soul, and that in the purified soul everything that is 
 best, wisdom and every other virtue, inheres and is 
 native. 
 
 TPlotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, 463 A (C. p. 863, 1. 13; V. II. 136, L 
 \2 et seq..). 
 
 *1D., § 14, 464 A (C. p. 865, 1. I; V. II. 137, 1, 13 et seq.). 
 
348 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 . . . But ^ in investigating the nature of anything one 
 must regard it in its purity, since any accretion always 
 stands in the way of knowing that to which it is super- 
 added. Abstract then in investigating, or rather let 
 him who abstracts look at himself, and he will be per- 
 suaded that he is immortal when he sees himseK on the 
 intelligible and pure plane. For he will see his intellect 
 regarding not any sensible or mortal thing, but with its 
 eternal seK thinking the eternal, and all things which 
 exist in the intelligible world. Nay, he will see his in- 
 tellect itself become intelligible and luminous, resplendent 
 with the truths proceeding from the good which illumi- 
 nates intelligible objects with truth. . . . 
 
 Again ^^ what sane man could raise a doubt as to the 
 immortality of such a nature, possessed as it is of a 
 self -originated life that cannot be destroyed? . . . For 
 either its essence is life or else Hfe is something super- 
 added to matter. In the first case, this essence will be 
 either self -animated — which is just what we are looking 
 for and we agree is immortal — or may be analyzed as a 
 compound and the process repeated till an imperishable 
 self-moved element be reached which cannot be liable 
 to death. In the second case, if our opponents say 
 that life be a property superadded to matter, they 
 will be forced to confess that the source of this prop- 
 erty of life in matter must itself be immortal, since 
 it cannot be subject to the opposite of what it imparts. 
 There is then one nature whose characteristic activity 
 is life. 
 
 • Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, 464 E. 
 
 10 lb., § 15, 465 (C. p. 867, 1. 11 et seq.; V. II. 139, 1. 10 et seq.). 
 
I 
 
 PLOTINUS 349 
 
 Again, 1^ if it be said that all soul is corruptible, then 
 all things would have perished long ago. But if it be 
 said that some soul perishes, other not, as for instance 
 that the world-soul is immortal but our souls mortal, the 
 reason for this distinction must be given. For both are 
 principles of motion, both are self-animated, and both 
 grasp the same objects with the same faculty, thinking 
 both heavenly objects and those which transcend the 
 heavens, and both seek all essential being and mount up 
 to the first principle of all things. Also her ability to 
 classify each thing of herself because of the notion innate 
 within her — an ability produced by reminiscence of the 
 intelligible — gives our soul an existence prior to the 
 body, and since she is in enjoyment of eternal principles, 
 shows that she herself is also eternal. 
 
 Finally, everything dissoluble has been produced by 
 combination, and is dissolved after the same fashion in 
 which it was combined. But the soul is single and simple, 
 a nature whose characteristic activity consists in living. 
 She cannot then be destroyed by dissolution. But, do 
 you say, she might be destroyed by being divided and 
 broken up ? However, she has no mass or quantity, as 
 has been shown. Or, do you say, by a process of altera- 
 tion she might pass into corruption? Alteration, however, 
 in destroying, though it takes away the form leaves the 
 matter. It is a composite being then, which is liable to it. 
 But if the soul cannot be destroyed after any of these 
 fashions, she must necessarily be immortal. . . . 
 
 *** 
 
 We ^2 speak of the soul of each individual as one, 
 because she is present in her entirety throughout the 
 
 11 Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 7, § 16. 
 
 12 lb., IV. 9, § 1, 477 (C. p. 888; V. II. 153). 
 
350 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 body, and is really one in that she does not have one 
 part here, another there. In sensitive beings, too, the 
 same is true of the sensitive soul, and in plants the 
 whole soul is present throughout in every part. Now 
 are my soul and your soul one, and all souls one in the 
 same way ? And in the universe is one soul present in all 
 things, not divided as a thing which has mass is divided, 
 but everywhere the same ? For why should this soul of 
 mine be one but the soul in the universe not one ? There 
 is no question there either of mass or body. Moreover, if 
 your soul and mine proceed from the world-soul, and it is 
 one, then ours should be one also . And if the world-soul and 
 my soul are derived from one soul, then again they should 
 be one. What sort of a soul would this one then be ? 
 
 First, however, we must decide whether it be indeed 
 correct to call all souls one, in the sense that the soul of a 
 single individual is one. Now it involves a real absurdity 
 if my soul and the soul of any other person are one. 
 For in that case when I perceived, he too would have to 
 perceive, and if I were good, would have to be good, 
 and if I desired, would also have to desire. And in 
 general we should share the same sensations with one 
 another and with the universe, so that whenever I were 
 affected in any wise, the universe would share in my sen- 
 sation. Again, if all souls be one, how can the rational 
 be different from the irrational soul, or the soul in animals 
 different from that in plants? But on the other hand if 
 we do not posit this unity, the universe will not be one, 
 and no single source of souls will have been found. 
 
 * * 
 
 In 13 the first place then, if my soul and the soul of 
 another man be one, it will not follow that both are 
 
 '3 Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 9, § 2. 
 
PLOTINUS 351 
 
 reciprocally identical. For although the same thing may 
 be present in both, it will not have the same properties 
 in the two cases. Thus humanity may be present in me 
 who am in motion, and in you who are not in motion. 
 In me humanity will be moved, in you at rest, and still 
 there is nothing absurd or paradoxical in the fact that 
 it is the same humanity which is in you and me. It is 
 not necessary, then, that when I perceive something, 
 another man should have exactly the same experience. 
 For that matter, too, given a single body, one hand does 
 not perceive what the other feels, but rather the soul 
 which resides in the whole body. And had you to know 
 my feelings our bodies would have to merge into one 
 another, and we two become a single individual. Thus 
 knitted together both souls would have identical per- 
 ceptions. 
 
 We ought also to note the many things of which* the 
 whole is unconscious, even in the case of one and the 
 same body. This is the more noticeable the bigger the 
 body is. For instance, there are huge sea-monsters in 
 which no perception whatever of anything experienced 
 by a part reaches the whole, because of the comparative 
 slightness of the motion excited. We may conclude that 
 no clearly defined experience need be received by the 
 whole organism when one particular part is affected. 
 But that it should be affected sympathetically, though 
 there is not necessarily any definite sensation, is not 
 absurd and cannot be denied. It will not be absurd then 
 that the same thing should be virtuous in me, vicious 
 in you, seeing that it can exist in one man in a state of 
 motion, in another at rest. For after all we do not call 
 the soul one in a sense which altogether excludes plurality. 
 Such imity is to be attributed to the nature which is 
 
352 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 better than soul. Soul, on the contrary, we call one- 
 and-many, and say that it participates in the divisible 
 corporeal nature, and in the indivisible as well, so that 
 again it is one. And just as in my case, whatever is 
 generated by the ruling faculty communicates something 
 to the part, in spite of the fact that the affection of the 
 part does not prevail over the whole; so everything which 
 the universe communicates to the particular is quite 
 manifest because of our manifold sympathetic relations 
 with the universe, whereas we do not know for certain 
 whether our experiences are contributed to the world- 
 all or not. ... * 
 
 The ^^ question now is. After what fashion is the one 
 essence in the many souls? For either the one essence 
 in them all is a sum total, or else the many are derived 
 from the whole and single essence without disturbing its 
 wholeness or unity. It, however, is one, and the many 
 souls are related to it as the one unity which gives itself 
 to the many, and at the same time does not give itself. 
 For it is able to give itself to all, and yet to remain one. 
 It can penetrate simultaneously all things, and not be 
 severed at all from any one of them. It is one and the 
 same thing in many. 
 
 There should be no difficulty about believing this. A 
 science exists as a whole, and is related to its parts 
 in such wise that its wholeness is not impaired by the 
 derivation of the parts from it. A seed also is a whole, 
 and the parts are derived from it into which it naturally 
 divides itself, and each of these is a whole, and remains 
 a whole. 
 
 But the whole is not diminished — it is matter which 
 
 " Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 9, § 5, 480 A (C. p. 894; V. II. 157). 
 
PLOTINUS 353 
 
 divides it up — and all the parts are one. Perhaps, how- 
 ever, it will be said that in the case of a science the part 
 is not the whole. It is true, to be sure, in this case, that 
 the part which we are using is at hand and is emphasized. 
 Still, the other parts also follow, latent and potential, and 
 are all contained in the part in question. It is in this 
 sense that one speaks of the whole science and of a part 
 of it. But in the soul all the parts coexist in their 
 actuality. In the case of a science, to revert, each part 
 is ready to which you may wish to put your hand. The 
 readiness for use lies in the part, but it gets its efficacy 
 from its contiguity to the whole. One cannot regard it 
 as empty of the other propositions. Were it, it would 
 not hold either in practice or in theory, but would be 
 mere child's prattle. If it holds theoretically, it is be- 
 cause it contains all the parts potentially. A thinker in 
 thinking, I say, deduces the other parts by implication. 
 A geometer in his analysis makes clear how the one part 
 or proposition contains all the other propositions through 
 which the analysis has proceeded, and also all the con- 
 sequent propositions which follow from it. These things, 
 however, gain no credence because of our weakness and 
 because they are obscured by the body. But in the 
 intelligible world each and every thing is plain. 
 
 THE INTELLECrr 
 
 Why 15 now must we use the soul as a stepping-stone 
 to something higher and not posit her as the first prin- 
 ciple? In the first place because intellect is different 
 from and better than soul, and what is better by nature 
 comes first. Intellect is better, because soul does not as 
 
 "Plotinus, Enneads, V. 9, § 4, 557 E (C. p. 1030, 1. 16; V. II. 
 251, 1. 9) 
 
354 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 some think generate the intellect of her perfection. For 
 how can the possible become actual, unless there be a 
 cause which makes it actual? Were the process of 
 actualization a matter of chance, perhaps the possible 
 might not become actual. Hence we must regard our 
 first principle as in actual existence, wanting nothing, 
 and perfect. And tha imperfect we must regard as 
 coming later and as perfected by what has produced it, 
 just as parents bring to maturity offspring which they 
 generated in the beginning imperfect. Soul, moreover, 
 is matter in comparison with her first cause, and then 
 is formed and perfected by it. Again since soul is passi- 
 ble, there must be some impassible principle — or else 
 all things in time would be destroyed — and something, 
 too, prior to soul. Finally, since soul is in the 
 world, there must be some principle outside the world, 
 and this, too, must be prior to soul. For if what 
 exists in the world exists in the corporeal and ma- 
 terial, nothing there will preserve its identity. Hence 
 the idea of man and all the forms will be neither eternal 
 nor self-identical. From these considerations as well 
 as from many others, it may be seen that intellect must 
 exist prior to soul. ... * 
 
 Although 16 then the soul is the kind of thing which our 
 discussion has shown her to be, still she is merely a sort 
 of image of the intellect. In fact, just as a thought 
 expressed in words is an image of the thought in the 
 soul, so she is both the thought of the intellect and the 
 entirety of its activity and the life which it sends forth 
 to constitute a new form of being. An illustration of 
 
 » Plotinus, Enneads, V. 1, § 3, 484 B (C. p. 900, 1. 4; V. II. 164, 
 I. 19). 
 
PLOTINUS 355 
 
 what I mean is fire which has both an inherent heat, 
 and a heat which it radiates. . . . 
 
 *** 
 It ^'^ is the intellect then which makes the soul ever 
 
 more divine by its fatherhood and companionship. Nor 
 does anything separate them save the fact that they are 
 different, inasmuch as the soul is one lower in rank and 
 is the receptive principle, whereas the intellect is, as it 
 were, the form. Still even the matter of the intellect is 
 beautiful since it is intelligible and simple. And the 
 excellence of the intellect can be clearly estimated by 
 this superiority to soul, which is such as we have de- 
 scribed. * 
 
 We 1^ should also see the excellence of the intellect, if 
 first admiring the phenomenal universe with an eye to its 
 grandeur and beauty, the orderliness of its eternal motion, 
 its gods both visible and invisible, its spirits, and all 
 its animals and plants, we should then rise to its far 
 truer and more real archetype, and should see how all 
 things there are intelligible and eternal of themselves 
 and dwell in native reason and live with imcorrupted 
 intellect at their head, and unspeakable wisdom and the 
 true life of Chronos which is the offspring of God and 
 the intellect. For the intellect comprehends everything 
 that is immortal, every intellect, every god, every soul, 
 in its eternal peace. Its peace, I say, for why should it 
 in its felicity seek change? And into what could it 
 change, seeing that it has all things of its own self. Nor 
 wiU the intellect seek to develop itself, since it is ab- 
 solutely perfect. Hence everything that shares its 
 
 "Plotinus, Enneads, V. 1, § 3, 484 D (C. p. 901, 1. 16; V. II. 
 165, 1. 3). 
 
 >«Ib., §4. 
 
356 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 existence is perfect, to the end that it may be perfect in 
 every respect, possessed of nothing imperfect and noth- 
 ing which is not the object of its thought. 
 
 Its thought, however, is not a search but a possession. 
 Its fehcity, too, is not acquired from without. Rather 
 is it eternally all things, and is the true eternity of which 
 time encircling the soul is an image — time which leaves 
 the old things behind and lays hold of new. For, to 
 speak still of time, now one thing now another revolves 
 about the soul, now Socrates, and now a horse, and 
 always some single thing. The intellect, on the other 
 hand, is all things. It contains all things in itself at 
 rest within itself. Only the present exists for it, and is 
 present eternally, and for it there is nothing future, since 
 the future is already present to it, and nothing past. 
 Nothing, I say, is past, but all realities have remained 
 at rest there from eternity, as though content with them- 
 selves as they are. Each of them is intellect and real 
 existence, and the sum of them is all intellect and all real 
 existence. 
 
 The intellect in the act of thought produces existence, 
 and existence by being thought gives thought and 
 existence to the intellect. Of both existence and 
 thought, however, there is yet another cause. For they 
 exist simultaneously and never desert one another. 
 But though two, they together constitute that unity 
 which is at once intellect and existence, thinking and 
 the object thought. Intellect this imity is qua thinking, 
 existence qua the object thought, for thinking could 
 not arise were there not identity and difference. The 
 first principles then are intellect, existence, difference, 
 identity. The categories of motion and rest, however, 
 must also be included, motion if there is to be thinking. 
 
PLOTINUS 357 
 
 rest for the sake of identity. Difference must exist 
 that there may be thinking and an object of thought. 
 Take away the category of difference, and the unity 
 which arises from thinking and the object of thought 
 will be given its quietus. The ideas must also differ 
 from one another, and yet be the same in that each is self- 
 identical and all have a common element. Their differ- 
 ence is otherness. These principles by virtue of their 
 plurality generate number and quantity. Quality is 
 generated by the fact that each one of these principles 
 from which all else proceeds has its peculiar and proper 
 character. ... * 
 
 It 1^ is necessary to understand then by intellect, if 
 we are to attach any true significance to the name, not 
 the potential intellect, or the intellectual knowledge 
 developed out of ignorance. Did we, we should have 
 to seek for yet another intellect prior to this. By 
 intellect we are to understand that which is intellect 
 in actu, and eternally. But if its thought be not im- 
 ported from without, when it thinks anything it must 
 itself be the occasion of its thought, and when it is 
 possessed of any object be the occasion of that possession. 
 But if it be the occasion and source of its thought, it 
 will itself be the object of its thought. For were its 
 essence one thing, and the object of its thought another, 
 its essence w^ould not be an intelligible object, and 
 would exist potentially, not actually. The one then is 
 not separable from the other, though it is our custom 
 drawn from our own experience to think of them as 
 separate. 
 
 I'Plotinus, Enneads, V. 9, § 5, 558 C (C. p. 1031, 1. 14; V. II. 
 251, 1. 32). 
 
358 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 What then is the object of the activity and thought 
 of the intellect Hke, that we should regard the intellect as 
 itself the object of its thought? Clearly the intellect, 
 being real existence, must think and support the world 
 of real existences (the ideas). It is then the real ex- 
 istences. It must think of these as existing either else- 
 where than in itself, or in itseK as its own nature. To 
 think them as elsewhere than in itself is impossible. 
 For where could they exist? It thinks them as con- 
 stituting its own nature and existing in itself. 
 
 We come to this conclusion because the seat of the 
 form is not the sensible object as some think. For in 
 no case is the primary and fundamental the phenomenal. 
 The form in sensible objects imposed upon matter is an 
 image of real existence, and every form in objects comes 
 from something without, refers thither, and is an image 
 thereof. 
 
 Again, if there must needs be a maker of this universe, 
 he will not think of what does not as yet exist, in order 
 to create it. The forms of things then must exist prior 
 to the world, not indeed as impressions struck from 
 other things, but as archetypes and originals and the 
 very essence of the intellect. If, however, some people 
 talk of seminal reasons as sufficient, evidently they must 
 be talking of the eternal reasons. But if the reasons are 
 eternal and impassible, they must exist in an intellect, 
 and in an intellect such that it is prior to conditioned 
 existence, nature, and soul, seeing that these have a 
 potential existence. 
 
 The intellect then is all real existences thought as not 
 external to itself. They are neither prior nor subsequent 
 to it, but it is, as it were, the primal lawgiver, or rather 
 the law itself of existence. The saying then is correct 
 
PLOTINUS 359 
 
 that thinking and existing are one and the same thing, 
 and that the knowledge of immaterial entities is the same 
 as the things themselves — also the saying ^'I sought my- 
 self" [as] one of the real existences; and the doctrine of 
 reminiscence is true too. For no real existence is outside 
 the intellect, or in space. Rather do they exist eternally 
 in themselves, subject neither to change nor destruction, 
 and for this reason are real existences. On the other 
 hand what is generated and destroyed enjoys existence 
 as something superadded. Not they, then, but what is 
 superadded, is real existence. Phenomena exist as defin- 
 able objects through participation, in that their sub- 
 stratum gets its form from without. Thus bronze re- 
 ceives its form from the art of casting statues, and 
 wood from that of carpentry, through the entrance into 
 them of images of the arts in question. At the same 
 time the arts themselves remain outside of matter in 
 their self-identity, and contain the true statue and the 
 true bed. This is also true of corporeal things. The 
 difference between images and real existences is shown 
 likewise by this universe which participates in images. 
 For in the intelligible world real existences are im- 
 mutable (whereas the things of this world are mutable), 
 and being without extension reside in themselves without 
 need of space, and have an intellectual and self-sufficient 
 kind of existence. But the nature of corporeal things 
 wants preservation by something outside itself, while the 
 intellect, which with its wonderful nature supports what 
 naturally tends to fall, itself seeks no support. 
 
 We 20 grant then that the intellect is real existence 
 and contains all the real existences in itself, not after a 
 
 20 Plotinus, Enneads, V. 9, § 6. 
 
360 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 spatial fashion, but as though they were its own self, 
 and it were one with them. All things exist together 
 there, and nevertheless are distinguished from one an- 
 other. For the soul also is possessed of many notions 
 at the same time, without confusing them. Each does 
 its proper work at the proper time without involving the 
 others. So, too, each thought has a pure activity drawn 
 from the thoughts which He within it. After this fashion, 
 and to a far greater extent, the intelligible universe is all 
 things together and yet not together inasmuch as each 
 real existence is an individual and peculiar power. But 
 the whole intellect includes them as a genus contains its 
 species, or as a whole its parts. . . . 
 
 *** 
 Whatever 21 appears in the phenomenal world as 
 form is contained in the intelligible world, but what does 
 not so appear has no place there. Hence there is nothing 
 contrary to nature there, just as there is nothing con- 
 trary to art in the arts, nor for that matter lameness in 
 the seed, seeing that lameness arises during growth from 
 the failure of the seminal reason to overcome matter, and 
 is a chance mutilation of form. In the intelligible world 
 also are all harmonious quaUties and quantities, numbers 
 and magnitudes, conditions, actions and natural proper- 
 ties, motions and rests, both in whole and in part. In 
 place of time there is eternity, and space there is repre- 
 sented by logical impUcation. ... 22 Are then only 
 phenomena represented in the intelligible world, or are 
 still more things ? First we must inquire about artificial 
 objects. . . . 
 
 2» Plotinus, Enneads, V. 9, § 10, 562 (C. p. 1038, 1. 10 et seq. ; 
 V. II. 256, 1. 21). 
 22 lb., 562 E. 
 
PLOTINUS 361 
 
 As 23 regards then art and artificial objects. Such arts 
 as are imitative Hke painting and sculpture, dancing and 
 gesticulation, which take their rise in the phenomenal 
 world, and make use of a sensible model and imitate 
 forms and motions, and repeat the symmetries which 
 they behold, could not properly be referred to the 
 intelligible world except as included in the idea of man. 
 But if from the symmetry in animals we be led to reflect 
 upon some condition of living beings in general, our 
 reflection would be part of the power of considering the 
 intelligible world, and beholding the symmetry of all 
 things therein. Every sort of music, too, which is 
 occupied with the concepts of harmony and rhythm, 
 would be in the same class as an art occupied with in- 
 telligible rhythm. Also such arts as fashion sensible 
 objects like architecture and carpentry get their prin- 
 ciples and some of their skill from the intelligible world. 
 But inasmuch as they have mixed their principles up 
 with the phenomenal, they do not reside wholly in the 
 intelligible, but rather in man. Agriculture, however, 
 which deals with sensible things Hke plants does not come 
 from the intelligible, nor medicine which looks to earthly 
 health, and busies itself with keeping people strong and 
 in good condition. For in the intelligible world there is 
 another kind of strength and health by virtue of w^hich all 
 living things are not subject to disturbance and are self- 
 sufficient. Rhetoric and generalship, political economy 
 and statesmanship, if they join beauty to their deeds 
 and have the vision of it, get a portion of their wis- 
 dom from the wisdom on high. Geometry which deals 
 with intelligible entities must be placed there, and 
 also the highest wisdom which is occupied with real 
 
 23 Plotinus, Enneads, V. 9, § 11, 563 A. 
 
362 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 existence. So much must suffice for the arts and arti- 
 ficial objects. * 
 
 Are 24 there then also ideas of particular objects? 
 Let us see. If I and every man can trace ourselves back 
 to the intelligible world, then each man has his separate 
 origin there. And if Socrates and the soul of Socrates 
 are eternal, there will exist in the intelligible world a 
 Socrates in himself as it is called, in so far as the souls 
 of individuals are there. But if what was formerly 
 Socrates becomes at another time another individual like 
 Pythagoras or some one else, then the particular idea 
 of Socrates no longer exists in the intelligible world. Still 
 if the soul of the individual contain the seminal reasons 
 of all those through whom it passes, all will be represented 
 in the intelligible world. For we say also that each soul 
 possesses all the seminal reasons that are in the world. 
 If now the world contains the seminal reasons not only 
 of man, but of particular animals, the soul will possess 
 them too. There will then be an infinite number of 
 seminal reasons, unless indeed they be periodically 
 repeated in world-cycles, and in this way a limit set to 
 their infinity, as often as they are reexemplified. 
 
 However, if generally speaking there are more partic- 
 ulars produced than there are patterns, why need there 
 be seminal reasons and patterns for everything produced 
 within a single world-cycle? One archetypal man is 
 enough for many men, just as a definite number of souls 
 produce [in their reincarnations] an indefinite number of 
 human beings. Still, different things have not the same 
 seminal reason, nor is a single man sufficient as a pattern 
 for men who differ from one another not only in point 
 
 2«Plotinus, Enneads, V. 7, 1. 539 A (C. p. 995; V. II. 228). 
 
PLOTINUS 363 
 
 of matter, but in countless specific points. For such 
 men are not related as the pictures of Socrates are 
 related to the original, but their differences have to be 
 regarded as due to different reasons or ideas. A world- 
 cycle, however, in its entirety contains all the seminal 
 reasons. And then [in the next world-cycle] the same 
 world is repeated after the same ideas. Infinity in the 
 intelligible world is not to be feared. For its infinity 
 is all contained in the indivisible, and proceeds from it, 
 as it were, when the intelligible world exercises its proper 
 activity. . . . 
 
 THE ONE 
 
 Everything 25 which exists, both primary existences 
 and whatsoever is in any way spoken of as being, exists 
 by virtue of its unity. For what would a thing be were 
 it not one thing ? Take away its unity and it is no longer 
 what we define it to be. There is for instance no army 
 except it be a unity, and no chorus or flock which is not 
 one. Nor is there any house or ship which has not unity, 
 since the house is a single thing, and likewise the ship. 
 If this unity be lost, the house is no longer a house nor 
 the ship a ship. Compound and extended bodies then 
 could not exist, unless unity were present in them. And 
 if cut up, so far as they lose their unity they change their 
 existence. So too, the bodies of plants and animals 
 which are each a unit, if in being broken up they escape 
 from unity into plurality, destroy the essence which they 
 had and are no longer what they were, but become 
 something else, and this indeed only in so far as they 
 are still units. Health also exists when the body is 
 organized as a unit, and beauty when the nature 
 of the one holds the parts together, and virtue in the 
 
 "Plotinus, Enneads, VI. 9, § 1, 757 A (C. p. 1385; V. II. 518). 
 
364 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 soul when she is made a unit and unified in a single 
 harmony. . . . 
 
 We must now see whether the unity and the being of 
 the individual be the same, and existence in general 
 identical with the One. But if the being of each in- 
 dividual is a plurality, and the one cannot be many, then 
 they must be different. Now man is both an animal 
 and a rational being, and has many parts which in their 
 multiplicity are bound together in unity. Man then is 
 one thing, unity another. Man is divisible, unity in- 
 divisible. Also existence in general, since it comprises 
 wdthin itself all the real existences, is multiple in nature, 
 and different from unity, and by participation possesses 
 and shares in unity. Real existence has both life and 
 intellect — since it is no lifeless corpse. Hence it is 
 multiple. And if the intellect be real existence, it must 
 be multiple, and still more so, if it comprise the ideas. 
 For the idea is not one but is rather a number of things — 
 each individual idea as well as their sum total. They are 
 one in the same sense as the universe is one. Generally 
 speaking, too, unity is fundamental and primal, but the 
 intellect, and the ideas, and real existence are not primal. 
 Each idea is made up of many parts, is composite, and 
 a consequent, inasmuch as what a thing is composed of is 
 prior to it. 
 
 That intellect cannot be primal is also plain from the 
 following considerations: The intellect necessarily is in 
 thought, and since it regards what is both supremely 
 good and at the same time not external to itself, the object 
 of its thought is prior to itself. For in reverting to itself 
 it reverts to its origin. Moreover, if it be both the 
 thinking and the object of thought, it is dual, not simple, 
 and is not the One. But if it regard another than itself, 
 
PLOTINUS 365 
 
 it will regard what is in every respect better than and 
 prior to itseK. If, however, it regard itself, it regards 
 [qiia thinking] what is better [qica object of its thought] 
 than itself, and so is a secondary entity. 
 
 Now we must consider the intellect such that it com- 
 munes with the good and the first of all things, and 
 regards it, and also communes with itself and thinks 
 itself, and thinks itself as the whole world of real ex- 
 istences. Its variety then falls far short of being unity. 
 The One cannot be all things, since in that case it would 
 be no longer One, nor can it be intellect since it would 
 then be all things because the intellect is all things. Nor 
 can it be existence, for existence is all things. 
 
 What now is the One? WTiat is its nature? It is no 
 wonder that we cannot easily say, in view of the fact that 
 neither existence nor form is easily described. Yet our 
 knowledge is based upon forms and concepts. But the 
 more the soul proceeds into the formless, the more she 
 becomes unable to comprehend it, because it is inde- 
 finable and lacks the impress of variety. Hence she 
 wavers and begins to fear that she has laid hold of blank 
 nothing, and tires at such a height and is glad to descend 
 frequently and to fall back from everything till she has 
 reached the phenomenal world. There she rests from 
 her labors as if on firm ground once more. In the same 
 way our sight when wearied with tiny things gladly falls 
 upon large objects. On the other hand when the soul 
 desires vision absolutely of and by itself, in this vision 
 which comes through communion and union she does not 
 believe that she has attained the object of her search 
 through union with it, just because the object of her 
 thought is not a different thing from herself. 
 
 We, however, who are going to make the One the 
 
366 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 object of our philosophic meditation must needs do as 
 follows. Since it is the One which we are searching for, 
 and the source of all things, the good and the primal, 
 which we are beholding, we must not depart from the 
 neighborhood of things primal, nor sink to those which 
 come last, but must strive rather to betake ourselves 
 from them and their show of sense to the primal things. 
 We must free ourselves from all vice, too, if we be eager 
 for the good, and must rise to the principle hidden within 
 ourselves, and throwing off our multiplicity become one, 
 and be made that principle and a beholder of the One. 
 We must become then intellect, and intrust our souls to 
 our intellect, and establish them there, so that we may- 
 be conscious of what the intellect beholds, and through 
 it enjoy the vision of the One. We must not add thereto 
 any sense-experience, nor receive into our thought any- 
 thing that comes from sense, but with the pure intellect, 
 and the primal part of the intellect behold the Most 
 Pure. 
 
 If now, when so prepared, we attribute in our im- 
 agination either extension or form or mass to this nature, 
 it will not be intellect which guides our vision, because 
 these properties are not naturally objects of intellectual 
 vision, but rather of the activity of sense, and opinion 
 which follows sense. We must rather get from the 
 intellect views of what lies within its power. Nov/ the 
 intellect can behold either what is prior to itself, or its 
 own nature, or what comes after it. Pure is its own 
 nature, but still purer and simpler what are or rather is 
 prior to it. This is not intellect but prior to intellect. 
 For intellect is something which exists. But this other 
 nature is not something, but is prior to everything. It 
 is not an existence, for what exists has the form of ex- 
 
PLOTINUS 367 
 
 istence, and it is formless, even without intelligible form. 
 I say this, because the nature of the One being the 
 creator of all things is itself no one of them. So it is not 
 a thing, nor quahty, nor quantity, nor intellect, nor soul, 
 nor in motion, nor at rest, nor in space, nor in time, but 
 is the absolutely ^^monoform," or rather formless, prior 
 to all form, prior to motion, prior to rest. For these 
 things pertain to existence, and it creates them in their 
 multiplicity. 
 
 Why now, if it be not in motion is it not at rest? 
 Because either or both of these properties pertain to 
 being, and what is at rest is so by virtue of stability, and 
 is not the same as stability. Hence stability is an at- 
 tribute of it, and it is no longer simple. Also if we call 
 the One a cause, we are not predicating something of it, 
 but rather something of ourselves, inasmuch as we are 
 receiving something from it while it exists in itself. 
 Again, strictly speaking we cannot talk of the One as a 
 *'this," or a ''that," but looking at it from without, may 
 only wish to interpret the ways in which it affects us. 
 Now we get nearer to it, now we fall farther short of it, 
 because of the difficulties that hedge it about. 
 
 The greatest of these difficulties is that our apprehen- 
 sion of the One does not partake of the nature of either 
 imderstanding or abstract thought as does our knowledge 
 of other intelligible objects, but has the character of 
 presentation higher than understanding. For under- 
 standing proceeds by concepts, and the concept is a 
 multiple affair, and the soul misses the One when she 
 falls into number and plurality. She must then pass 
 beyond understanding, and nowhere emerge from her 
 unity. She must, I say, withdraw from understanding 
 and its objects and from every other thing, even the 
 
368 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 vision of beauty. For everything beautiful comes after 
 it and is derived from it, as all daylight from the sun. 
 It is for this reason that Plato says that the One is 
 ineffable in spoken or written word. We speak and 
 write of it, however, that we may despatch our spirits 
 toward it, and rouse them from the contemplation of 
 mere concepts to the vision of it, pointing out the way, 
 as it were, to one eager for some sight. Instruction 
 goes as far as showing the road and the way. But the 
 vision is the work of him who has already willed to be- 
 hold it. . . . * 
 
 In 26 what sense now is the One one ? And how is 
 it to be grasped by our thought? I reply, it must be 
 regarded as more one than monad or point. For with 
 these latter entities the soul subtracts magnitude and 
 numerical quantity and stops and rests at the smallest 
 possible remainder — which is indivisible in truth, yet 
 was contained in the divisible and is found in other 
 things. The One, however, is found neither in other 
 things, nor in the divisible, nor is it indivisible in the 
 sense in which the smallest possible remainder is in- 
 divisible. It is the greatest of all things not in extension, 
 but in power, and hence space and extension have noth- 
 ing to do with its power. The real existences which 
 come next to it in rank, are also indivisible and undivided 
 in a dynamic not a spatial sense. We are to understand, 
 too, that it is infinite not by virtue of being immeasurable 
 in extension or number, but because its power cannot 
 be comprehended or circumscribed. When you think 
 of it as intellect or God, it is more. And when you unify 
 
 "Plotinua, Enneads, VI. 9, § 6, 763 E (C. p. 1397, 1. 17; V. II. 
 615, 1. 20). 
 
PLOTINUS 369 
 
 it in your thought it is more — more even than you 
 could imagine God himself to be, if you imagined him to 
 be more one than your thought. For it exists in itself 
 and has no attributes. 
 
 One would not be wrong perhaps in representing God's 
 unity through the concept of self-sufficiency. For he 
 must be the sufficient and self-sufficing, and free from 
 wants of all things, whereas everything which is mul- 
 tiple and not one wants, since it has been made of 
 many things, and its essence stands in need of unity. 
 But the One does not stand in need of itself, since it is 
 itself. Moreover, a thing which is multiple needs as 
 many things as it is composed of. And all such things 
 are subsequent to their components, and not self- 
 existent, but need other things, and display this need 
 both in their parts and as wholes. 
 
 If then there must be something which is absolutety 
 self-sufficient, this must be the One, and must be so in 
 this respect alone, namely, that it wants nothing in re- 
 lation either to itself or to other things. The One seeks 
 nothing in order that it may exist or be happy, nor yet 
 anything to support it. Since it is the cause of all else, 
 it owes its own existence to nothing else. For the same 
 reason why should its happiness be an object external 
 to itself? It follows that happiness is not an attribute 
 of the One. The One is happiness. Furthermore, it is 
 not to be found in space, seeing that it needs no space as 
 if it were not able to support itself. What has spatial 
 position is inanimate and is a falling mass if it be not 
 placed in position. Things have position for the same 
 reasons that they coexist, and each has the place to 
 which it has been assigned. What needs, however, a 
 place in space wants something. 
 
370 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Then too the source does not need the things which 
 follow after it, and the source of all things has no need 
 of any. For what wants, w^ants in the sense that it 
 strives after its source. Again if the One needs anything, 
 it is clearly seeking not to be One, and hence needs its 
 own destruction qva One. Everything which wants, 
 however, stands in need of well-being and preservation. 
 It follows that for the One, nothing can be good, nor can 
 it wish anything. It is rather super-good, a good not 
 for itself but for other things, if any of them be able to 
 attain it. Nor can the One be thinking, lest there be 
 difference and motion in it. It is prior to motion and to 
 thinking. For what shall it think? Itself? In that 
 case before it thinks it will be ignorant, and what is self- 
 sufficient will need thought in order to know itself. But 
 it does not follow that because it does not know or think 
 itself, it will be ignorant of itself. For ignorance has to 
 do with an external object, as w^hen one thing is ignorant 
 of another. But the Only One will neither know any- 
 thing, nor have anything to be ignorant of. Being One 
 and united with itself it does not need to think of itself. 
 You cannot even catch a glimpse of it by ascribing to it 
 union with itself. Rather must you take away thinking 
 and the act of being united, and thought of itself and of 
 anything else. It must not be conceived as the thinker, 
 but more after the fashion of mere thought, which does 
 not think but is the cause of thinking in something else. 
 The cause, however, is not the same as the caused, and 
 the cause of all things is no one of them. It must 
 not then be called the good which it gives to other 
 things, but in some other sense the good above all other 
 goods. 
 
PLOTINUS 371 
 
 THE PROCESS OF EMANATION 
 
 'fhe 27 One is all things and yet no one of them. For 
 the origin of all things is itself, not they, yet all things are 
 in their origin inasmuch as they may all be traced back to 
 their som-ce. It is better, perhaps, to say that in their 
 origin they exist not as present but as future things. 
 How then can they proceed from the One in its simplicity, 
 in whose self-identity there is no appearance of variety 
 or duality whatsoever ? I reply, for the very reason that 
 none of them was in the One, are all of them derived 
 from it. Furthermore, in order that they may be real 
 existences, the One is not an existence, but the father of 
 existences. And the generation of existence is as it were 
 the first act of generation. Being perfect by reason of 
 neither seeking nor possessing nor needing anything, 
 the One overflows as it were, and what overflows forms 
 another hypostasis. . . . For ^s whenever anything else 
 comes to perfection we see that it procreates and, un- 
 wilUng to remain in itself, creates another being. This is 
 true not only of beings which possess conscious purpose, 
 but also of things which develop without conscious 
 purpose. Indeed, even inanimate objects share them- 
 selves as far as may be. Thus fire heats and cold chills 
 and drugs have their appropriate effects upon other 
 things, and all things imitate their origins as they are 
 able with a view to their everlasting self-perpetuation 
 and goodness. How then should the most perfect and 
 primal good stay shut up in itself as if it were envious or 
 impotent? And it the power of all things! How could 
 it be the origin of anything? Something then must be 
 begotten of it, if any of the other hypostases which are 
 
 "Plotinus, Enneads, V. § 2, 493 (C. p. 918; V. II. 176). 
 "lb., V. § 4, 517 (C. p. 958, 1. 17; V. II. 203, 19). 
 
372 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 derived from it are to exist. Necessarily, then, something 
 comes from it. Also what begets all that comes after it 
 must be most worthy of worship, and the hypostasis 
 second to it better than any other created thing. . . . 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 If 29 now there be an hypostasis second to it, and it be 
 unmoved itself, the second hypostasis must come into 
 being without any inclination or will or motion of any 
 sort on the part of the One. How is this accomplished 
 and how are we to think of this second hypostasis that 
 surrounds the abiding and changeless essence of the One ? 
 We are to think of it as a radiance proceeding from the 
 One, and from the One abiding in its changelessness, just 
 as the light about and surrounding the sun is eternally 
 generated from it, without any change or motion in the 
 solar substance. Indeed all things while they last 
 necessarily give of their own power an hypostasis pro- 
 ceeding from their own essence, outside of and surround- 
 ing them, and attached to them — an image as it were of 
 the archetypes which have brought it forth. Fire dis- 
 penses heat from itself, and snow does not keep its cold 
 only within itself. But the best witnesses of this fact are 
 sweet-smelling substances. For as long as they exist 
 there goes forth something from them which surrounds 
 them and is enjoyed by any one w^ho happens to stand 
 near. And everything on attaining perfection generates, 
 and what is eternally perfect eternally generates the 
 eternal; but what is generated is less than the generator. 
 What now are we to say of the most perfect? Nothing 
 comes from it but what is greatest after it. And the 
 greatest after it and second in rank is the intellect. . . . 
 
 "Plotinus, Enneads, V. § 1, 487 (C. p. 906, 1. 16; V. II. 168, 
 1. 15). 
 
PLOTINUS 373 
 
 We 2^ say that the intellect is an image of the One. 
 But we must speak with more precision. In the first 
 place we call it an image because it is begotten of the 
 One, and preserves much of the nature of the One, and 
 is very hke the One, as light is hke the sun. But it is not 
 the One. How then does the One generate the intellect? 
 In this wise — through what is generated by it turning 
 back to behold it. This vision is the intellect. . . . 
 That 31 world of which the One is the possibility, the 
 intellect perceives, separating it as it were from its 
 possibility. Else it w^ould not be intellect, since the 
 essence of intellect consists in a kind of awareness of its 
 possibilities and powers. It defines then through itself 
 its own being by virtue of the possibilities got from the 
 One. It is as it were a part of what comes from the One, 
 and gets its essence thence and is established by the One, 
 and perfected in essence from and of it. It sees that to 
 itself as to the divisible from the indivisible have come 
 life and thought and all things, and that the One is none 
 of them. . . . This ^^ intellect so begotten is worthy 
 of being the purest intellect, and has no other source 
 than the first principle [the One]. In being begotten, it 
 generates everything else with it, all the beauty of the 
 ideas, all the intelligible goods. And it is filled with 
 everything it generates, and swallows them again, so to 
 speak, and contains them within itself lest they fall into 
 matter. ... 
 
 Now 33 the intellect being like the One follows the 
 example of the One and pom's forth a mighty power. 
 This power is a particular form of itself, as was the case 
 
 30 Plotinus, Enneads, V. § 1 488 A. 3i lb., 488 B. 32 ib., 489 A. 
 33 lb., y. § 2, 494 (C. p. 919, 1. 9; V. II. 176, 1. 18). 
 
374 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 with that which the principle prior to intellect poured 
 forth. And this activity proceeding from essence is soul, 
 begotten without change or motion in the intellect — for 
 intellect was begotten without change or motion in the 
 principle prior to it. But the soul does not create, 
 abiding in her changelessness, but in change and motion 
 she generates an image. Looking to the source of her 
 existence, she is filled with intellect, but when she pro- 
 ceeds to other and opposite motions then she generates 
 an image of herself, sensation and the nature in plants. 
 But none of these things is removed or cut off from 
 what is prior to it. . . . ^ 
 
 There ^^ is then a procession from the origin of all 
 things to the last and least of them, and each is left in its 
 appropriate position. What is begotten holds another 
 and lower place than what begets, yet each thing remains 
 identified with that which it follows, as long as it seeks 
 after it. 
 
 3^ Plotinus, Enneads, V. § 2, 494 A, 
 
XXIII 
 VLOTINJJS— Continued 
 
 MATTER 
 
 If 1 now the world of real existences and what tran- 
 scends real existence is such as we have described, no 
 evil can inhere either in real existence or in the tran- 
 scendent One. For they are good. If then evil exist, 
 there remains for it the sphere of not-being, and it is as it 
 were a certain form of not-being, and is concerned with 
 things mixed with not-being or having some commerce 
 with it. By not-being I do not mean absolute non- 
 existence, but only what is different from real existence. 
 Nor do I mean not-being in the sense that motion and 
 rest which are attributes of being are not being, but 
 rather in the sense of an image of real existence, or of 
 something which has even less existence than an image. 
 
 ^Yhsit I am alluding to is the phenomenal universe and 
 all the affections of the sensible world. Or it may be it 
 is either something which follows upon the phenomenal, 
 and is as it were a property thereof, or else is its origin 
 or some one of the things which go to make up the sensi- 
 ble world, such as it is. And one might come to think 
 of it as lack of measure with respect to measure, and 
 as infinity with respect to finitude, and formless with 
 respect to the formative, and eternally wanting with 
 respect to the self-sufficient, as indeterminate, never 
 
 iPotinus, Enneads, I. 8, § 3, 73 D (C p. 139; V. I 101). 
 375 
 
376 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 at rest, subject to every affection, insatiate, poverty 
 absolute. These characteristics are not properties of it 
 but its essence, and whatever part of evil you may see 
 you will find has them all. 
 
 Now whatever else participates in it and is assimilated 
 to it becomes bad, yet is not the principle of evil. What 
 then is the hypostasis in which evil is present not as 
 something extraneous but as the hypostasis itself? For 
 were evil an attribute of something else, there must needs 
 be something prior to it, even if it be not an essence of 
 some sort. Just as there is good the principle, and good 
 the predicate, so there is also evil which exists as a prin- 
 ciple, and evil predicated according to this principle of 
 some other subject. But, do you say, what is measur- 
 edness if it does not consist in being measured, what 
 measure if it does not lie in the measured? I reply that 
 just as there is measure beside what is measured, so there 
 is unmeasuredness which is not merely in the thing 
 unmeasured. For did it exist in some other subject, it 
 must exist either in the unmeasured — which is impossible 
 since it has no need of unmeasuredness, being itself 
 unmeasured — or in the measured, which is impossible 
 since the measured cannot possess unmeasuredness in so 
 far as it is measured. Hence there must be something 
 infinite in itself, and formless in itself and everything else 
 aforesaid which characterized the nature of evil. And 
 if anything else be evil, it either has evil by admixture, 
 or by regarding it, or by performing it. That, then, 
 which underlies figures and forms and structures and 
 measures and bounds, and is adorned with an orderli- 
 ness foreign to it, having nothing good of itself, and 
 being a mere phantom as compared with the soul, the 
 very essence of evil, if evil can have an essence — that, I 
 
PLOTINUS 377 
 
 say, is discovered by our discourse to be the primal 
 
 and the absolute evil. . . . 
 
 * 
 * * 
 
 We 2 must now consider the meaning of the saying that 
 evil cannot be destroyed but exists of necessity, and that 
 it does not exist among the gods, but ever hovers about 
 this mortal nature of ^^this place." The meaning is that 
 the heaven is pure of evil, and goes with a regular and 
 orderly motion, and that there is no unrighteousness 
 there, nor other vice, nor injury of one part by another in 
 their appointed courses; whereas on earth there is un- 
 righteousness and disorder. This is what Plato means 
 by mortal nature, and the phrase ^^this place.'' And the 
 duty of fleeing hence is not to be taken locally as refer- 
 ring to earthly places. Our flight, he says, does not lie 
 in going away from the earth, but in living on earth in 
 righteousness and holiness and sweet reasonableness, 
 which is as much as to say that we must flee from vice. 
 It is vice then and its consequences that he means by 
 evil. 
 
 But when Theodorus in the dialogue answers that evil 
 could be removed if only men could be persuaded of the 
 truth of this opinion, Socrates answers that this could 
 not possibly happen, since evil exists of necessity, seeing 
 that there must be some opposite to the good. . . . But ^ 
 in what sense does it follow that if good exists evil also 
 will exist? In this, I say, that there has to be matter in 
 the universe. For this universe is necessarily composed 
 of opposites, and could not exist were there no matter. 
 The nature of the universe is mixed, as Plato says, of 
 reason and necessity. And whatever comes to it from 
 
 2 Plotinus, Enneads, I. 8, 75 G (C. p. 144, 1. 6; V. I. 104, 1. 29) 
 »Ib., § 7, 77 B (C. p. 147, 1. 6; V. I. 106, 1. 31). 
 
378 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 God is good, but the evil comes from the primeval nature, 
 by which he means the underlying matter as yet unbeau- 
 tified by form. . . . From ^ what has been said then we 
 can now understand the necessity of evil. Since the good 
 is not soUtary, there must necessarily result from the 
 emanation or, if one prefer, from the degeneration and 
 departure from the good, something ultimate and last, 
 beyond and after which nothing more can be generated. 
 This ultimate and last thing is evil. That something 
 should follow from the first principle is necessary, hence 
 this last thing is necessary. And this is matter which 
 has no remainder of the good and the first in it. Hence 
 the necessity of evil. ^^ 
 
 That ^ there must be some substratum in bodies differ- 
 ent from the bodies themselves is evidenced by the con- 
 version of the elements into one another. For the 
 destruction of what is converted is not complete since, 
 if it were, a substance would be put out of existence. 
 Nor does what is generated come into being from abso- 
 lute not-being. There is rather a change of form from 
 one form to another. In change that remains change- 
 less which receives the form of what it becomes, and puts 
 off the form of what it previously was. Destruction 
 shows this plainly, for it pertains to compound objects. 
 If this be true, everything is composed of matter and 
 form. Induction bears witness also, in showing that 
 what is destroyed is compound, also analysis. For ex- 
 ample if a cup can be dissolved into gold, and gold into 
 water, analogy demands also that the water be dissoluble. 
 The elements then must be either form or primitive mat- 
 
 ■ Plotinus, Enneads, I. § 7, 77 E. 
 
 »Ib., II. 4, § 6, 162 C (C. 288, 1. 3; V. I. 154. I. 30). 
 
PLOTINUS 379 
 
 ter or a composite of matter and form. It is impossible, 
 however, that they should be form, for how could they 
 have magnitude and extension without having matter? 
 But they cannot be primitive matter, seeing that they 
 are destroyed. They are then a composite of matter 
 and form, form in respect to quality and structure, 
 matter in respect to a substratum which is indeterminate 
 because it has no form. 
 
 What then is this substratum which we say is one and 
 continuous and without quality like? That it cannot be 
 corporeal if it is without quality is plain enough. If we 
 say that it is the matter of all sensible objects — I don't 
 mean the matter of some, and form in relation to others 
 as clay is matter for the potter yet absolutely speaking 
 not matter, but I do mean matter in relation to every- 
 thing — we ought not to attach to its nature any property 
 perceived in sensible objects. In that case, in addition 
 to qualities like colors and heat and cold, we ought not 
 to attribute to it lightness or heaviness or density or 
 rarity or structure and hence not even extension. For 
 extension is one thing, that which is given extension 
 another, structure one thing, that which is given structure 
 another. It must also not be compound but simple and 
 one in nature. For in this wise is it empty of all at- 
 tributes. 
 
 And what gives it form will give it a form which is 
 different from and independent of matter, bringing ex- 
 tension and everything else to it from the realm of real 
 existences. Otherwise the formative principle would be 
 conditioned by the extent of matter on hand, and would 
 do not as it wishes but as matter wishes. That its will 
 should coincide with the extent of matter is an absurd 
 supposition. But if the formative principle be prior to 
 
380 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 matter then matter will be entirely such as the principle 
 wishes and will be easily cast into all sorts of forms, and 
 hence into extension. But if it had extension it would 
 also possess a structure, and hence would be more in- 
 tractable. Form then enters into it and brings every- 
 thing to it. The form possesses everything, even ex- 
 tension and everything else which is contained in the 
 seminal reason and exists through its agency. It fol- 
 lows from this that in the case of particular kinds of 
 things their quantity is determined along with their form. 
 For the quantity of a man is different from that of birds, 
 and of this or that bird. It is no more remarkable that 
 quantity should bring a new property to matter than 
 that quality should. Nor could quality be a seminal 
 reason, and quantity, which is measure and number, 
 not a form. ... 
 
 If,6 however, the substratum were some quality which 
 all the elements had in common, we should have in the 
 first place to say what that quality was, and then to 
 show how a quality could be a substratum, and how 
 quaHty could be seen in the unextended with neither 
 matter nor extension to it ; and yet again, how if quality 
 be determinate it can be matter. On the other hand 
 were it something indeterminate it would not be quality 
 but substratum and the matter which we are looking for. 
 But one may object at this point — granted that matter 
 has no qualities in that its nature is to partake of none, 
 what is still to prevent its being qualified by just this 
 fact, that it partakes of none, and to hinder it from pos- 
 sessing a property in all respects peculiar to itself, and 
 
 •Plotinus, Enneads, II. 4, § 13, 167 B (C. p. 298, 1. 14; V. I. 
 162, 1. 8). 
 
PLOTINUS 381 
 
 from differing from all other qualities in this very point 
 of being an absence or privation of every quality? One 
 who has been deprived of any quality is qualified by his 
 privation, as for example a blind man. If then an 
 absence or privation of qualities be attributed to mat- 
 ter why is it not qualified thereby? And if absolute 
 privation be ascribed to it why is it not even more 
 qualified? That is, of course, if privation be a kind of 
 quality. 
 
 If, however, a man argue thus, what is he doing but 
 turning everything into qualifications and qualities? 
 Quantity then would be a quality, and essence. But if 
 a thing be qualified, quality is added to it. It is, how- 
 ever, absurd to make a qualified thing of w^hat is different 
 from the qualified and is not qualified. Or do you say 
 that it is qualified by the fact of this difference? But if 
 you mean that matter is sheer absolute difference then it 
 cannot be qualified, since simple quality is not itself a 
 qualified thing. If you mean, on the contrary, that 
 matter is merely different from other things, then it is 
 merely different, not of its own nature but by virtue of 
 difference, and the same by virtue of sameness. Priva- 
 tion then is not quality or a qualified thing, but is a want 
 of quality or of anything else, just as silence is a want of 
 sound or of anything else you please. For privation is 
 negation, and the qualified is found in the sphere of the 
 positive. The peculiar property of matter is not form, 
 but rather not being qualified and not having any form. 
 It is absurd to say that what is not qualified is qualified. 
 That is like saying that a thing has not extension for 
 the very reason that it has. 
 
 Moreover this peculiar property of matter is nox some- 
 thing different from the essence of matter and is not 
 
382 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 added to it, but lies rather in the relation matter bears to 
 other things, to wit, that it is something different from 
 them. Other things, however, are not merely ''other," 
 but each has an individual form. Matter, on the con- 
 trary, ought properly to be called merely ''an other," or 
 perhaps "other" in the plural, so that you may not de- 
 termine it by using the singular, but by the use of the 
 plural indicate its indeterminate character. . . . 
 
 * * 
 
 But ^ if matter be without quality how can it be evil? 
 I reply that it is defined as without quality in the sense 
 that it possesses itself none of those qualities of which it 
 is receptive and which inhere in it as a substratum, but 
 not in the sense that it has no nature. If, however, it 
 have a certain nature, what prevents this nature's 
 being evil? I do not mean evil, as qualified thereby. 
 For quality is that by predication of which something 
 else is qualified. It is then an attribute and is located 
 in a subject other than itself. But matter is not 
 located in a subject different from itself, but is the 
 substratum of which all attributes are predicated. Since 
 then every quality is by nature a predicate, and matter 
 happens to have no predicates, matter is said to be with- 
 out quality. Again if quality is itself unqualified, how 
 could matter which has received no qualities be called 
 qualified? 
 
 It is correct then to speak of matter both as having no 
 quaUties, and as being evil. For it is not called evil be- 
 cause it has qualities but rather because it has not, lest 
 otherwise it were evil from being form, and not from 
 being the nature opposite to form. 
 
 'Plotinus, Enneads, I. 8. § 10, 79 C (C. p. 152; V. I. 110, 1. 8). 
 
PLOTINUS 383 
 
 Finally ^ how are we to have knowledge of the unex- 
 tended m matter? And how are we to know anything 
 that has no qualities? And what must be the concept 
 thereof, and the starting-point for our reflection? I say, 
 indeterminateness. For if like is known by Uke, then 
 the indeterminate is known by the indeterminate. 
 There might indeed be a definite concept of the indeter- 
 minate, but the point from which we must start toward 
 it is indeterminate. And if each thing be known by 
 means of conception and thought, and here the concept 
 tells what it ought to tell about matter, and still the 
 thought which w^e desire is not a thought but rather 
 the absence thereof, then our representation of matter 
 would be rather a bastard and illegitimate concept, 
 born of the untrue principle of the Other, and mixed 
 with it. Perhaps it is with this in his mind's eye 
 that Plato talks of matter as apprehended by a bastard 
 concept. 
 
 What, however, is the indeterminateness of the soul? 
 Is it a complete ignorance like an absence of all knowl- 
 edge? No, the indeterminate has a kind of positive- 
 ness, and just as for the eye darkness is the matter of all 
 invisible colors, so the soul when she takes away every- 
 thing from sensible objects as one might take away light, 
 and is left with something which it is no longer possible to 
 define, becomes like the eye in the dark, and finally is in 
 a sense identified with what she sees. AATiat then does 
 she see? Something like formlessness and want of color 
 and absence of light, and also lack of extension. Other- 
 wise this something will present itself in some form or 
 other. But when she sees nothing is she not affected in 
 
 'Plotinus, Enneads, II. 4, § 10, 164 D (C. p. 292, 1. 14; V. I. 
 158, 1. 4). 
 
384 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 the same way? Not at all. For when she sees nothing, 
 she reports nothing, or rather she is not aifected at all. 
 But when she sees matter she is affected as it were by an 
 impression of the formless. And when she thinks of 
 what has form and extension, she thinks of something 
 compound, as colored and as concretely determined. 
 She thinks of the whole, and thinks of it as all belonging 
 together, and her thought or perception of its properties 
 is clear. But her thought of the formless substratum 
 underlying them is obscure, and obscure is the nature of 
 the formless substratum underlying them, for it is with- 
 out form. There is then a residuum in the whole and 
 compound object which is comprehended along with the 
 properties, and is left by reason in its analysis and ab- 
 straction of the properties. And this the soul thinks 
 obscurely as an obscure thing, and darkly as a dark 
 thing, and thinks it by not thinking. But since matter 
 itself does not remain formless but has been given form 
 in concrete things, the soul also immediately adds the 
 form of concrete things to it, being pained by the indeter- 
 minate as if afraid of being beyond the pale of real exist- 
 ence, and not suffering herself to stop long in the realm 
 of not-being. 
 
 SIN AND SALVATION 
 
 The ^ soul is not essentially vicious, and again every 
 soul is not vicious. What then is a vicious soul? She, 
 says Plato, who has become the slave of a man whose 
 nature engenders evil in her through the reception of 
 evil and lack of measure and superfluity and deficiency on 
 the part of her irrational form. From these characteris- 
 tics wantonness and cowardice and the rest of the soul's 
 
 • PlotiQUs, Enneads, I. 8, § 4, 740 (C. p. 141, 1. 3; V. I. 102, 1. 22). 
 
PLOTINUS 385 
 
 vices arise, as involuntary affections provocative of 
 false opinions and estimations of the good and evil which 
 she shuns and pursues. AVhat, however, is it that is 
 responsible for this viciousness, and after what fashion 
 are we to refer vice to an origin and cause? 
 
 I reply that in the first place the vicious soul is not 
 outside of matter and is not wholly herself. She is 
 mixed with disproportion, and is without part in the 
 form which brings order and induces proportion. For 
 she is mingled with the body which is material. In the 
 second place, if her reasoning faculty be damaged, her 
 vision is hindered both by her affections, and by being 
 darkened by matter and inclined toward matter, and 
 in general by her looking not toward existence but 
 toward generation. And of transition and generation 
 the nature of matter is the source, a nature so evil that 
 the soul which even looks toward it, though it be not yet 
 in it, is filled with evil. For since matter is wholly 
 without part in the good and is the privation thereof, and 
 pure lack, it makes like to itself everything whatsoever 
 which touches it. 
 
 The soul, however, which is perfect and ever inclined 
 to the intellect is ever pure and turned from matter, and 
 neither sees nor approaches anything which is indeter- 
 minate, or without measure, or evil. She remains then 
 pure, absolutely determined as she is by the intellect. 
 But if she does not remain so, but goes forth from her- 
 self, then she is on an imperfect and secondary plane of 
 existence, and is a mere shadow of her former self because 
 of her failure in so far as she has failed, and is filled with 
 disproportionateness and sees darkness. At this point 
 she already has hold of matter, seeing what she does not 
 see, just as we talk about '^seeing the dark." 
 
386 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Now 10 often I am roused from the body to my true 
 self, and emerge from all else and enter myself, and be- 
 hold a marvellous beauty, and am particularly persuaded 
 at the time that I belong to a better sphere, and live a 
 supremely good hfe, and become identical with the god- 
 head, and fast fixed therein attain its divine activity, 
 having reached a plane above the whole intelligible 
 realm; and then after this sojourn in the godhead I 
 descend from the intelligible world to the plane of dis- 
 cursive thought. And after I have descended I am at a 
 loss to know how it is that I have done so, and how my 
 soul has entered into my body, in view of the fact that 
 she really is as her inmost nature was revealed, and yet 
 
 is in the body. ... 
 
 * * 
 
 In 11 seeking to learn Plato's teaching concerning our 
 souls, we are forced to inquire in addition into the ques- 
 tion of soul in general, and ask how it comes in the nature 
 of things to have commerce with the body. Also we 
 ought to consider the nature of the universe in which the 
 soul lives. . . . The i^ body of the world, we find, is com- 
 plete and sufficient and self-sufficing, and has nothing in 
 it contrary to nature. Hence it needs but slight ordering, 
 and its soul is eternally as she wishes herself to be, and is 
 without desires or affections. Nothing is absent from 
 her, and nothing is added to her. So it is that Plato 
 says that our soul when in the companionship of that 
 perfect world-soul becomes perfect herself, lives on high 
 and directs the whole universe. Did she not separate 
 herself therefrom and enter into bodies and become the 
 
 10 Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 8, § 1, 468 (C. p. 872; V. II. 1. 142). 
 
 11 lb., § 2, 470. 
 
 12 lb., 470 a 
 
PLOTINUS 387 
 
 soul of some particular body, she herself like and with 
 the world-soul would easily govern the universe. It is 
 not then under all circumstances an evil thing for the 
 soul to provide the possibility of existence and well- 
 being to a body. For not all providential care of things 
 inferior deprives him who exercises it of living on the 
 best and highest level. . . . 
 
 * * 
 
 There ^^ are two ways in which the commerce of the 
 soul with bodies may cause trouble. In the first place 
 it may be a hindrance to thought, and secondly it may 
 fill the soul full of pleasures and desires and griefs. Still 
 neither of these contingencies should occur in the case of 
 a soul that has not sunk into the interior of the body, 
 nor is the soul of a particular body nor has come to be- 
 long to one — a case where rather the body belongs to the 
 soul, and is such as to have no want or deficiency, and 
 hence as not to fill the soul with desires or fears. For 
 nothing to fear occurs to her in connection with such a 
 body, nor does any w^ant of leisure make her incline 
 downw^ard and lead her away from the better and 
 beatific vision. On the contrary the soul of such a 
 body is ever in the higher regions ordering the world with 
 a power free from all care. 
 
 * * 
 
 Now,^^ individual souls which are endowed on the one 
 hand with inclination tow^ard the intellect, turning 
 as they do to that which generates them, and on the 
 other possess a power which reaches even to this ter- 
 restrial sphere, just as light both depends on the sun 
 above and yet does not grudge giving itseK to the world 
 
 " Plotinus, Enneads, IV. 8, § 2, 471 A. 
 »^Ib., 472 A, §4. 
 
888 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 below; individual souls, I say, are without sin so long as 
 they remain with the world-soul in the intelligible world, 
 and in heaven rule things in her company. Like kings 
 associated with the ruler of all things they reign jointly 
 vvith her without descending from their royal thrones. 
 Ajid they are co-regents with her because they are con- 
 joined with her in the same royal state. But if they alter 
 their mode of existence and change from the whole to 
 the part, and take to existing independently and of 
 themselves, and find, so to speak, their association with 
 the world-soul irksome, they revert each to an inde- 
 pendent existence. When they have done this for some 
 time, and have deserted the world-soul and estranged 
 themselves from her through their separation, and no 
 longer regard the intelligible universe, then each be- 
 comes a part and is isolated and weakened and busied 
 Vv^ith many things, and regards the part instead of the 
 whole. And then when each through her separation 
 from the whole has lighted upon some one particular 
 part, and has deserted everything else, and turned to 
 and entered into that one part which is subject to the im- 
 pact and influence of other things, her apostasy from the 
 whole is accomplished, and she directs the individual 
 surrounded as he is by an environment, and is already in 
 contact and concerned with external things, and lives in 
 their presence and has sunk deep into them. Then it is 
 that she is aptly said to have lost her wings and to lie in 
 the bonds of the body — erring as she is from her life of 
 innocence passed in governing the higher world at the 
 side of the world-soul. This prior state is altogether 
 better if she will but return thither, but as it is, she is 
 fallen and fettered, and inasmuch as she exercises her 
 activities through the medium of sense, because pre- 
 
 1 
 
PLOTINUS 389 
 
 vented in the beginning from exercising them through the 
 intellect, Plato talks of her as buried and in a dark cave. 
 But her return to pure thought when through her 
 recollection of her former state she gets a point of de- 
 parture toward the vision of real existence is called a 
 loosening of her bonds and an ascent to the upper world. 
 For despite her fall the soul has always a higher part. 
 
 * * 
 
 The ^^ soul then has naturally a love of God and de- 
 sires to be united with him with the love which a virgin 
 bears to a noble father. But when she has betaken 
 herself to creation, deceived as it were in her nuptials, she 
 exchanges her former love for mortal loA^e, and is bereft 
 of her father and becomes wanton. Still if she begin 
 again to hate the wantonness of earth, she is purified and 
 turns once more to her father and all is well with her. 
 Those to whom this heavenly love is unknown may get 
 some conception of it from earthly love, and what joy 
 it is to obtain possession of what one loves most. Let 
 him then reflect that these objects of his love are mortal 
 and perishable, mere shadows for his love to feed upon, 
 and soon turned to loathly things, because they are not 
 the true beloved, nor our good, nor what we seek; 
 whereas in the higher world we find the true beloved with 
 whom it is possible for us to unite ourselves when we have 
 seized and held it, because it is not clothed with flesh 
 and blood. 
 
 He who has beheld this beloved knows the truth of 
 what I say, how the soul then receives a new life when 
 she has gone forth to it, and come to it and participated 
 in it, so that in her new condition she knows that the 
 
 "Plotinus, Enneads, VI. 9, 768 C (C. p. 1406, 1. 10: V. II. 521, 
 1. 20). 
 
390 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 giver of true life is beside her, and that she needs nothing 
 else. Such an one knows also, however, that we must 
 put all else away, and abide in the beloved alone, and 
 become only it, stripping off all else that wraps us about; 
 and hence that we must hasten to come forth from the 
 things of this world, and be wroth at the bonds which 
 bind us to them, to the end that we may embrace the 
 beloved with all our soul, and have no part of us left with 
 which we do not touch God. It is possible for us even 
 while here in the body to behold both him and our- 
 selves in such wise as it is lawful for us to see. Our- 
 selves we see illumined, full of the light of the intelligible, 
 or rather as that very light itself, pure, without heavi- 
 ness, upward rising. Verily we see ourselves as made, 
 nay, as being God himself. Then it is that we are kin- 
 dled. But when we again sink to earth, we are, as it 
 were, put out. * 
 
 But ^^ why then do we not remain in the vision? I 
 reply, because we have never wholly come forth from our 
 earthly selves. But there shall come a time for us when 
 the vision will be unbroken, and we are no longer dis- 
 turbed by any unrest of the body. It is not the faculty 
 of vision which is disturbed but some other, when the seer 
 leaves the vision unaccomplished, but deserts not the 
 knowledge which lies in demonstration and belief and the 
 dialectical operation of the soul. The seer and his seeing, 
 however, are no longer reason and reasoning, but su- 
 perior to reason and prior to reason and extraneous to 
 reason, even as is the object of the vision. 
 
 Now whosoever beholds himself, when he beholds his 
 real self will see it as such a being, or rather he will be 
 
 " Plotinus, Enneads, VI. 9, S 10. 
 
PLOTINUS 391 
 
 united with such a being, and feel himself to have be- 
 come such as is wholly simple. Indeed we ought per- 
 haps hardly to say ''he will see himself." Nor should 
 we speak of an object of his vision, if we have to mean 
 thereby a duality of the seer and the seen and do not 
 identify the two as one. It is a bold thing to say, but in 
 the vision a man neither sees, nor if he sees, distinguishes 
 what he sees from himself nor fancies that there are 
 two — the seer and the seen. On the contrary it is by 
 becoming as it were another than himself, and by neither 
 being himself nor belonging to himself that he attains the 
 vision. And having surrendered himself to it he is one 
 with it, as the centre of two circles might coincide. For 
 these centres when they coincide become one, and when 
 the circles are separated there are two centres again. 
 And it is in this sense that we too speak of a difference. 
 It follows that the vision is hard to describe. For how 
 could a man report as something different from himself, 
 what at the time of his vision he did not see as different 
 but as one with himself? 
 
 This is clearly the intent of that injunction of the 
 mysteries which forbids communication of their secret 
 to the uninitiated. Since it was not communicable it 
 was forbidden to explain the divine secret to any one to 
 whom it had not been vouchsafed to see it of himself. 
 Now since in the vision there were not two, but the seer 
 was made one with the seen, not as with something seen, 
 but as with something made one with himself, he who 
 had been united with it might, if he remembered, have 
 by him some faint image of the divine. He himself was 
 one, with no distinctions within himself either as re- 
 garded himself or outer things. There was no move- 
 ment of any sort in him, nor was emotion or desire of 
 
392 SOURCE BOOK IN ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY 
 
 any outer thing present in him after his ascent, no, not 
 any reason or any thought, nor was he himself present to 
 himself, if I may so express it; but as rapt and inspired 
 he rested isolated in his unmoved and untroubled essence, 
 inclining nowhere and not even reflecting upon himself, 
 at rest in all respects, yea, as if he had become rest itself. 
 Nor did he concern himself with the beautiful, but had 
 passed beyond beauty and had transcended the series of 
 virtues as one might penetrate into the interior of the 
 holy of holies, leaving behind in the temple the statues of 
 the gods. And these he would not see again till he came 
 out after having had the vision of what lay within and 
 communion there with what was no statue or image but 
 the divine itself — of which the statues were but second- 
 ary images. And perhaps his experience was not a 
 vision but some other kind of seeing, ecstasy and sim- 
 plification and self-surrender, a yearning to touch and 
 a rest and a thought centred upon being merged in the 
 divine. Perhaps this was his experience if he beheld 
 anything in the holy of holies. Did he look elsewhere, 
 there was nothing there. 
 
 These are mere figures and only hint to the wise among 
 the prophets of the manner in which that God of whom 
 we spoke is beheld. But the wise priest who reads the 
 riddle aright may when he has entered the sanctuary 
 enjoy the vision there; and even if he has not entered, 
 yet because he has believed the sanctuary to be some- 
 thing invisible and has regarded it as a fountain and a 
 source, he will yet know it as the source of all things, and 
 behold it as such, and be merged with it, by like perceiv- 
 ing like, and will miss no divine thing which the soul is 
 capable of attaining. And before the vision comes, he 
 begs for the remnant and remainder of the vision. But 
 
PLOTINUS 393 
 
 for him who has transcended all things there remains 
 that which is prior to all things. 
 
 All that I have said is true, for the nature of the soul 
 never reaches absolute non-existence, but in her descent 
 reaches evil, and in this sense non-existence, but not 
 complete non-existence. And in pursuing the opposite 
 course she reaches no outer object, but herself, and hence 
 she does not dwell in nothing because she is in no outer 
 object, but in herself. But to be in herself and not in ex- 
 istence is to be in God. For a man himself becomes not 
 an essence, but superessential in so far as he clings fast to 
 God. ^Mien now he sees that he has transcended es- 
 sence he is himself an image of God. And when he pro- 
 ceeds out of himself turning from a copy into the original 
 he has reached the goal of his journey. Does he at time 
 fall from the vision, then virtue is aroused within him, 
 and beholding himself adorned in every way, he is again 
 lifted up by the help of virtue to the intelligible world, 
 and thence proceeds through the aid of wisdom back to 
 God. So it is that the life of the gods and of godlike 
 and blessed men is a liberation from the things of earth, 
 a Hfe that takes no joy in them, a flight of the soul 
 isolated from all that exists to the isolation of God. 
 
INDEX OF NAMES 
 
 Alcmseon, 37. 
 
 Anaxagoras, 4, 48, 49> 97, 118, 
 
 229, 244. 
 Anaximander, 3. 
 Anaximenes, 7. 
 Antipater of Tarsus, 272. 
 Antipho, 95. 
 Antisthenes, 145. 
 Apollodorus, 272, 276. 
 Archedemus, 274. 
 Aristippus, 91, 142. 
 Aristotle, 4, 86, 317-368. 
 
 Boethius, 272. 
 
 Chrysippus, 269, 271, 272, 274, 
 
 275, 276, 277, 378. 
 Cleanthes, 269, 273, 274, 276, 
 
 377. 
 
 Democritus, 48, 58, 59, 315. 
 Diogenes, 143, 147, 274. 
 
 Empedocles, 43, 48, 229, 247. 
 
 Epict>etus, 317, 330. 
 
 Epicurus, 143, 144, 281, 390- 
 
 305, 315, 329. 
 Euthydemus, 94. 
 Evenus, 108. 
 
 Gorgias, 67, 85, 108. 
 
 Hecatseus, 30. 
 Hecaton, 273. 
 Heraclitus, 38-35. 
 Hippias, 74, 75, 108. 
 
 Leucippus, 57, 65, 228, 229. 
 Lucretius, 305-316. 
 
 Marcus Aurelius, 336-339. 
 Melissus, 21, 
 Meno, 85, 101. 
 
 Parmenides, 11, 21, 57, 170 et 
 
 seq. 
 Persseus, 275. 
 Phaedrus, 149. 
 Plato, 129, 135, 148-316, 228, 
 
 229, 368, 377, 383, 384, 386, 
 
 389. 
 Plotinus, 340-393. 
 Plutarch, 278. 
 Posidonius, 273. 
 Prodicus, 74, 76, 108. 
 Protagoras, 67, 68, 78. 
 Pythagoras, 30, 35, 36, 149, 
 
 284, 362. 
 
 Socrates, 1, 86-141, 284, 317, 
 
 322, 323, 324, 356, 362, 363. 
 Speusippus, 284. 
 
 Thales, 1. 
 Theffitetus, 78. 
 Theognis, 267. 
 Timseus, 160. 
 
 Xenocrates, 284. 
 Xenophanes, 8, 20, 21, 30, 57. 
 Xenophon, 86. 
 
 Zeno of Citium, 269, 273, 275, 
 
 284, 322. 
 Zeno of Elea, 33, 168. 
 
 395 
 
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