What is there that can be perceived by reason? You say that Dialectics have been discovered, and that that science is, as it were, an arbiter and judge of what is true and false. Of what true and false?-and of true and false on what subject? Will a dialectician be able to judge, in geometry, what is true and false, or in literature, or in music? He knows nothing about those things. In philosophy, then? What is it to him how large the sun is? or what means has he which may enable him to judge what the chief good is? What then will he judge of? Of what combination or disjunction of ideas is accurate,-of what is an ambiguous expression,-of what follows from each fact, or what is inconsistent with it? If the science of dialectics judges of these things, or things like them, it is judging of itself. But it professed more. For to judge of these matters is not sufficient for the resolving of the other numerous and important questions which arise in philosophy. But, since you place so much importance in that art, I would have you to consider whether it was not invented for the express purpose of being used against you. For, at its first opening, it gives an ingenious account of the elements of speaking, and of the manner in which one may come to an understanding of ambiguous expressions, and of the principles of reasoning: then, after a few more things, it comes to the sorites, a very slippery and hazardous topic, and a cla.s.s of argument which you yourself p.r.o.nounced to be a vicious one.
XXIX. What then, you will say; are we to be blamed for that viciousness?
The nature of things has not given us any knowledge of ends, so as to enable us, in any subject whatever, to say how far we can go. Nor is this the case only in respect of the heap of wheat, from which the name is derived, but in no matter whatever where the argument is conducted by minute questions: for instance, if the question be whether a man is rich or poor, ill.u.s.trious or obscure,-whether things be many or few, great or small, long or short, broad or narrow,-we have no certain answer to give, how much must be added or taken away to make the thing in question either one or the other.
But the sorites is a vicious sort of argument:-crush it, then, if you can, to prevent its being troublesome; for it will be so, if you do not guard against it. We have guarded against it, says he. For Chrysippus"s plan is, when he is interrogated step by step (by way of giving an instance), whether there are three, or few, or many, to rest a little before he comes to the "many;" that is to say, to use their own language, ?s????e??. Rest and welcome, says Carneades; you may even snore, for all I care. But what good does he do? For one follows who will waken you from sleep, and question you in the same manner:-Take the number, after the mention of which you were silent, and if to that number I add one, will there be many? You will again go on, as long as you think fit. Why need I say more?
for you admit this, that you cannot in your answers fix the last number which can be cla.s.sed as "few," nor the first, which amounts to "many." And this kind of uncertainty extends so widely, that I do not see any bounds to its progress.
Nothing hurts me, says he; for I, like a skilful driver, will rein in my horses before I come to the end, and all the more if the ground which the horses are approaching is precipitous. And thus, too, says he, I will check myself, and not reply any more to one who addresses me with captious questions. If you have a clear answer to make, and refuse to make it, you are giving yourself airs; if you have not, even you yourself do not perceive it. If you stop, because the question is obscure, I admit that it is so; but you say that you do not proceed as far as what is obscure. You stop, then, where the case is still clear. If then all you do is to hold your tongue, you gain nothing by that. For what does it matter to the man who wishes to catch you, whether he entangles you owing to your silence or to your talking? Suppose, for instance, you were to say, without hesitation, that up to the number nine, is "few," but were to pause at the tenth; then you would be refusing your a.s.sent to what is certain and evident, and yet you will not allow me to do the same with respect to subjects which are obscure.
That art, therefore, does not help you against the sorites; inasmuch as it does not teach a man, who is using either the increasing or diminishing scale, what is the first point, or the last. May I not say that that same art, like Penelope undoing her web, at last undoes all the arguments which have gone before? Is that your fault, or ours? In truth, it is the foundation of dialectics, that whatever is enunciated (and that is what they call ????a, which answers to our word _effatum_,) is either true or false. What, then, is the case? Are these true or false? If you say that you are speaking falsely, and that that is true, you are speaking falsely and telling the truth at the same time. This, forsooth, you say is inexplicable; and that is more odious than our language, when we call things uncomprehended, and not perceived.
x.x.x. However, I will pa.s.s over all this. I ask, if those things cannot be explained, and if no means of judging of them is discovered, so that you can answer whether they are true or false, then what has become of that definition,-"That a proposition (_effatum_) is something which is either true or false?" After the facts are a.s.sumed I will add, that of them some are to be adopted, others impeached, because they are contrary to the first. What then do you think of this conclusion,-"If you say that the sun shines, and if you speak truth, therefore the sun does shine?" At all events you approve of the kind of argument, and you say that the conclusion has been most correctly inferred. Therefore, in teaching, you deliver that as the first mood in which to draw conclusions. Either, therefore, you will approve of every other conclusion in the same mood, or that art of yours is good for nothing. Consider, then, whether you are inclined to approve of this conclusion;-"If you say that you are a liar, and speak the truth, then you are a liar. But you do say that you are a liar, and you do speak the truth, therefore you are a liar." How can you avoid approving of this conclusion, when you approved of the previous one of the same kind?
These are the arguments of Chrysippus, which even he himself did not refute. For what could he do with such a conclusion as this,-"If it shines, it shines: but it does shine, therefore it does shine?" He must give in; for the principle of the connexion compels you to grant the last proposition after you have once granted the first. And in what does this conclusion differ from the other,-"If you lie, you lie; but you do lie, therefore you do lie?" You a.s.sert that it is impossible for you either to approve or disapprove of this: if so, how can you any more approve or disapprove of the other? If the art, or the principle, or the method, or the force of the one conclusion avails, they exist in exactly the same degree in both.
This, however, is their last resource. They demand that one should make an exception with regard to these points which are inexplicable. I give my vote for their going to some tribune of the people; for they shall never obtain this exception from me. In truth, when they cannot prevail on Epicurus, who despises and ridicules the whole science of dialectics, to grant this proposition to be true, which we may express thus-"Hermachus will either be alive to-morrow or he will not;" when the dialecticians lay it down that every disjunctive proposition, such as "either yes or no" is not only true but necessary; you may see how cautious he is, whom they think slow. For, says he, if I should grant that one of the two alternatives is necessary, it will then be necessary either that Hermachus should be alive to-morrow, or not. But there is no such necessity in the nature of things. Let the dialecticians then, that is to say, Antiochus and the Stoics, contend with him, for he upsets the whole science of dialectics.
For if a disjunctive proposition made up of contraries, (I call those propositions contraries when one affirms and the other denies,) if, I say, such a disjunctive can be false, then no one is ever true. But what quarrel have they with me who am following their system? When anything of that kind happened, Carneades used to joke in this way:-"If I have drawn my conclusion correctly, I gain the cause: if incorrectly, Diogenes shall pay back a mina;" for he had learnt dialectics of that Stoic, and a mina was the pay of the dialecticians.
I, therefore, follow that system which I learnt from Antiochus; and I find no reason why I should judge "If it does shine, it does shine" to be true, because I have learnt that everything which is connected with itself is true; and yet not judge "If you lie, you lie," to be connected with itself in the same manner. Either, therefore, I must judge both this and that to be true, or, if I may not judge this to be true, then I cannot judge that to be.
x.x.xI. However, to pa.s.s over all those p.r.i.c.kles, and all that tortuous kind of discussion, and to show what we are:-after having explained the whole theory of Carneades, all the quibbles of Antiochus will necessarily fall to pieces. Nor will I say anything in such a way as to lead any one to suspect that anything is invented by me. I will take what I say from c.l.i.tomachus, who was with Carneades till his old age, a man of great shrewdness, (indeed, he was a Carthaginian,) and very studious and diligent. And he has written four books on the subject of withholding a.s.sent; but what I am going to say is taken out of the first.
Carneades a.s.serts that there are two kinds of appearances; and that the first kind may be divided into those which can be perceived and those which cannot; and the other into those which are probable and those which are not. Therefore, those which are p.r.o.nounced to be contrary to the senses and contrary to evidentness belong to the former division; but that nothing can be objected to those of the second kind. Wherefore his opinion is, that there is no appearance of such a character that perception will follow it, but many such as to draw after them probability. Indeed, it would be contrary to nature if nothing were probable; and that entire overturning of life, which you were speaking of, Lucullus, would ensue.
Therefore there are many things which may be proved by the senses; only one must recollect that there is not in them anything of such a character that there may not also be something which is false, but which in no respect differs from it in appearance; and so, whatever happens which is probable in appearance, if nothing offers itself which is contrary to that probability, the wise man will use it; and in this way the whole course of life will be regulated.
And, in truth, that wise man whom you are bringing on the stage, is often guided by what is probable, not being comprehended, nor perceived, nor a.s.sented to, but only likely; and unless a man acts on such circ.u.mstances there is an end to the whole system of life. For what must happen? Has the wise man, when he embarks on board ship, a positive comprehension and perception in his mind that he will have a successful voyage? How can he?
But suppose he goes from this place to Puteoli, thirty furlongs, in a seaworthy vessel, with a good pilot, and in fine weather like this, it appears probable that he will arrive there safe. According to appearances of this kind, then, he will make up his mind to act or not to act; and he will be more willing to find the snow white than Anaxagoras, who not only denied that fact, but who affirmed, because he knew that water, from which snow was congealed, was of a dark colour, that snow did not even look white. And he will be influenced by anything which affects him in such a way that the appearance is probable, and not interfered with by any obstacle. For such a man is not cut out of stone or hewn out of oak. He has a body, he has a mind, he is influenced by intellect, he is influenced by his senses, so that many things appear to him to be true, and yet not to have conspicuous and peculiar characteristics by which to be perceived.
And therefore the wise man does not a.s.sent to them, because it is possible that something false may exist of the same kind as this true thing. Nor do we speak against the senses differently from the Stoics, who say that many things are false, and are very different from the appearance which they present to the senses.
x.x.xII. But if this is the case, that one false idea can be entertained by the senses, you will find some one in a moment who will deny that anything can be perceived by the senses. And so, while we are silent, all perception and comprehension is done away with by the two principles laid down, one by Epicurus and the other by you. What is Epicurus"s maxim?-If anything that appears to the senses be false, then nothing can be perceived. What is yours?-The appearances presented to the senses are false.-What is the conclusion? Even if I hold my tongue, it speaks for itself, that nothing can be perceived. I do not grant that, says he, to Epicurus. Argue then with him, as he is wholly at variance with you, but leave me alone, who certainly agree with you so far, that the senses are liable to error. Although nothing appears so strange to me, as that such things should be said, especially by Antiochus, to whom the propositions which I have just mentioned were thoroughly known. For although, if he pleases, any one may find fault with this, namely with our denying that anything can be perceived; at all events it is not a very serious reproof that we can have to endure. But as for our statement that some things are probable, this does not seem to you to be sufficient. Grant that it is not. At least we ought to escape the reproaches which are incessantly bandied about by you, "Can you, then, see nothing? can you hear nothing?
is nothing evident to you?"
I explained just now, on the testimony of c.l.i.tomachus, in what manner Carneades intended those statements to be taken. Hear now, how the same things are stated by c.l.i.tomachus in that book which he dedicated to Caius Lucilius, the poet, after he had written on the same subject to Lucius Censorinus, the one, I mean, who was consul with Marcus Manilius; he then used almost these very words; for I am well acquainted with them, because the first idea and arrangement of those very matters which we are now discussing is contained in that book. He then uses the following language-
"The philosophers of the Academy are of opinion that there are differences between things of such a kind that some appear probable, and others the contrary. But that it is not a sufficient reason for one"s saying that some of these can be perceived and that others cannot, because many things which are false are probable; but nothing false can be perceived and known. Therefore, says he, those men are egregiously wrong who say that the Academics deny the existence of the senses; for they have never said that there is no such thing as colour, or taste, or sound; the only point they argue for is, that there is not in them that peculiar characteristic mark of truth and certainty which does not exist anywhere else."
And after having explained this, he adds, that there are two senses in which the wise man may be said to suspend his a.s.sent: one, when it is understood that he, as a general rule, a.s.sents to nothing; the other, when he forbears answering, so as to say that he approves or disapproves of anything, or, so as to deny or affirm anything. This being the case, he approves of the one sense, so as never to a.s.sent to anything; and adheres to the other, so as to be able to answer yes, or no, following probability whenever it either occurs or is wanting. And that one may not be astonished at one, who in every matter withholds himself from expressing his a.s.sent, being nevertheless agitated and excited to action, he leaves us perceptions of the sort by which we are excited to action, and those owing to which we can, when questioned, answer either way, being guided only by appearances, as long as we avoid expressing a deliberate a.s.sent.
And yet we must look upon all appearances of that kind as probable, but only those which have no obstacles to counteract them. If we do not induce you to approve of these ideas, they may perhaps be false, but they certainly do not deserve odium. For we are not depriving you of any light; but with reference to the things which you a.s.sert are perceived and comprehended, we say, that if they be only probable, they appear to be true.
x.x.xIII. Since, therefore, what is probable, is thus inferred and laid down, and at the same time disenc.u.mbered of all difficulties, set free and unrestrained, and disentangled from all extraneous circ.u.mstances; you see, Lucullus, that that defence of perspicuity which you took in hand is utterly overthrown. For this wise man of whom I am speaking will survey the heaven and earth and sea with the same eyes as your wise man; and will feel with the same senses all those other things which fall under each respective sense. That sea, which now, as the west wind is rising over it, appears purple to us, will appear so too to our wise man, but nevertheless he will not sanction the appearance by his a.s.sent; because, to us ourselves it appeared just now blue, and in the morning it appeared yellow; and now, too, because it sparkles in the sun, it is white and dimpled, and quite unlike the adjacent continent; so that, even if you could give an account why it is so, still you could not establish the truth of the appearance that is presented to the eyes.
Whence then,-for this was the question which you asked,-comes memory, if we perceive nothing, since we cannot recollect anything which we have seen unless we have comprehended it? What? Did Polyaenus, who is said to have been a great mathematician, after he had been persuaded by Epicurus to believe all geometry to be false, forget all the knowledge which he had previously possessed? But that which is false cannot be comprehended as you yourselves a.s.sert. If, therefore, memory is conversant only with things which have been perceived and comprehended, then it retains as comprehended and perceived all that every one remembers. But nothing false can be comprehended; and Scyron recollects all the dogmas of Epicurus; therefore they are all true. For all I care, they may be; but you also must either admit that they are so, and that is the last thing in your thoughts, or else you must allow me memory, and grant that there is plenty of room for it, even if there be no comprehension or perception.
What then is to become of the arts? Of what arts? of those, which of their own accord confess that they proceed on conjecture more than on knowledge; or of those which only follow what appears to them, and are dest.i.tute of that art which you possess to enable them to distinguish between truth and falsehood?
But there are two lights which, more than any others, contain the whole case; for, in the first place, you deny the possibility of any man invariably withholding his a.s.sent from everything. But that is quite plain; since Panaetius, almost the greatest man, in my opinion, of all the Stoics, says that he is in doubt as to that matter, which all the Stoics except him think absolutely certain, namely as to the truth of the auspices taken by soothsayers, and of oracles, and dreams, and prophecies; and forbears to express any a.s.sent respecting them. And why, if he may pursue this course concerning those matters, which the men of whom he himself learnt considered unquestionable, why may not a wise man do so too in all other cases? Is there any position which a man may either approve or disapprove of after it has been a.s.serted, but yet may not doubt about?
May you do so with respect to the sorites whenever you please, and may not he take his stand in the same manner in other cases, especially when without expressing his a.s.sent he may be able to follow a probability which is not embarra.s.sed by anything?
The second point is that you declare that man incapable of action who withholds his a.s.sent from everything. For first of all we must see in what a.s.sent consists. For the Stoics say that the senses themselves are a.s.sents; that desire comes after them, and action after desire. But that every thing is at an end if we deny perception.
x.x.xIV. Now on this subject many things have been said and written on both sides, but the whole matter may be summed up in a few words. For although I think it a very great exploit to resist one"s perceptions, to withstand one"s vague opinions, to check one"s propensity to give a.s.sent to propositions,-and though I quite agree with c.l.i.tomachus, when he writes that Carneades achieved a Herculean labour when, as if it had been a savage and formidable monster, he extracted a.s.sent, that is to say, vague opinion and rashness, from our minds,-yet, supposing that part of the defence is wholly omitted, what will hinder the action of that man who follows probability, without any obstacle arising to embarra.s.s him? This thing of itself, says he, will embarra.s.s him,-that he will lay it down, that even the thing he approves of cannot be perceived. And that will hinder you, also, in sailing, in planting, in marrying a wife, in becoming the parent of children, and in many things in which you follow nothing except what is probable.
And, nevertheless, you bring up again that old and often repudiated objection, to employ it not as Antipater did, but, as you say, in a closer manner. For you tell us that Antipater was blamed for saying, that it was consistent in a man who affirmed that nothing could be comprehended, to say that at least this fact of that impossibility could be comprehended; which appeared even to Antiochus to be a stupid kind of a.s.sertion, and contradictory to itself. For that it cannot be said with any consistency that nothing can be comprehended, if it is a.s.serted at the same time that the fact of the impossibility can be comprehended. He thinks that Carneades ought rather to be pressed in this way:-As the wise man admits of no dogma except such as is comprehended, perceived, and known, he must therefore confess that this very dogma of the wise man, "that nothing can be perceived," is perceived; as if the wise man had no other maxim whatever, and as if he could pa.s.s his life without any. But as he has others, which are probable, but not positively perceived, so also has he this one, that nothing can be perceived. For if he had on this point any characteristic of certain knowledge, he would also have it on all other points; but since he has it not, he employs probabilities. Therefore he is not afraid of appearing to be throwing everything into confusion, and making it uncertain. For it is not admissible for a person to say that he is ignorant about duty, and about many other things with which he is constantly mixed up and conversant; as he might say, if he were asked whether the number of the stars is odd or even. For in things uncertain, nothing is probable; but as to those matters in which there is probability, in those the wise man will not be at a loss what to do, or what answer to give.
Nor have you, O Lucullus, omitted that other objection of Antiochus (and, indeed, it is no wonder, for it is a very notorious one,) by which he used to say that Philo was above all things perplexed. For when one proposition was a.s.sumed, that some appearances were false, and a second one that there was no difference between them and true ones, he said that that school omitted to take notice that the former proposition had been granted by him, because there did appear to be some difference between appearances; but that that was put an end to by the second proposition, which a.s.serted that there was no difference between false and true ones; for that no two a.s.sertions could be more contradictory. And this objection would be correct if we altogether put truth out of the question: but we do not; for we see both true appearances and false ones. But there is a show of probability in them, though of perception we have no sign whatever.
x.x.xV. And I seem to myself to be at this moment adopting too meagre an argument; for, when there is a wide plain, in which our discourse may rove at liberty, why should we confine it within such narrow straits, and drive it into the thickets of the Stoics? For if I were arguing with a Peripatetic, who said "that everything could be perceived which was an impression originating in the truth," and who did not employ that additional clause,-"in such a way as it could not originate in what was false," I should then deal plainly with a plain man, and should not be very disputatious. And even if, when I said that nothing could be comprehended, he was to say that a wise man was sometimes guided by opinion, I should not contradict him; especially as even Carneades is not very hostile to this idea. As it is, what can I do? For I am asking what there is that can be comprehended; and I am answered, not by Aristotle, or Theophrastus, or even Xenocrates or Polemo, but by one who is of much later date than they,-"A truth of such a nature as what is false cannot be." I find nothing of the sort. Therefore I will, in truth, a.s.sent to what is unknown;-that is to say, I will be guided by opinion. This I am allowed to do both by the Peripatetics and by the Old Academy; but you refuse me such indulgence, and in this refusal Antiochus is the foremost, who has great weight with me, either because I loved the man, as he did me, or because I consider him the most refined and acute of all the philosophers of our age.
And, first of all, I will ask him how it is that he is a follower of that Academy to which he professes to belong? For, to pa.s.s over other points, who is there, either of the Old Academy or of the Peripatetics, who has ever made these two a.s.sertions which are the subject of discussion,-either that that alone could be perceived which was a truth of such a nature, as what was false could not be; or that a wise man was never guided by opinion? Certainly no one of them ever said so. Neither of these propositions was much maintained before Zeno"s time. But I consider both of them true; and I do not say so just to serve the present turn, but it is my honest opinion.
x.x.xVI. This is what I cannot bear. When you forbid me to a.s.sent to what I do not know, and say such a proceeding is most discreditable, and full of rashness,-when you, at the same time, arrogate so much to yourself, as to take upon yourself to explain the whole system of wisdom, to unfold the nature of all things, to form men"s manners, to fix the limits of good and evil, to describe men"s duties, and also to undertake to teach a complete rule and system of disputing and understanding, will you be able to prevent me from never tripping while embracing all those mult.i.tudinous branches of knowledge? What, in short, is that school to which you would conduct me, after you have carried me away from this one? I fear you will be acting rather arrogantly if you say it is your own. Still you must inevitably say so. Nor, indeed, are you the only person who would say such a thing, but every one will try and tempt me to his own. Come; suppose I resist the Peripatetics, who say that they are closely connected with the orators, and that ill.u.s.trious men who have been instructed by them have often governed the republic;-suppose that I withstand the Epicureans, so many of whom are friends of my own,-excellent, united, and affectionate men;-what am I to do with respect to Deodotus the Stoic, of whom I have been a pupil from my youth,-who has been living with me so many years,-who dwells in my house,-whom I admire and love, and who despises all those theories of Antiochus? Our principles, you will say, are the only true ones. Certainly the only true ones, if they are true at all; for there cannot be many true principles incompatible with one another. Are we then shameless who are unwilling to make mistakes; or they arrogant who have persuaded themselves that they are the only people who know everything? I do not, says he, a.s.sert that I, but that the wise man knows everything.
Exactly so; that he knows those things which are the principles of your school. Now, in the first place, what an a.s.sertion it is that wisdom cannot be explained by a wise man.-But let us leave off speaking of ourselves; let us speak of the wise man, about whom, as I have often said before, the whole of this discussion is.
Wisdom, then, is distributed by most people, and indeed by us, into three parts. First therefore, if you please, let us consider the researches that have been made into the nature of things. Is there any one so puffed up with a false opinion of himself as to have persuaded himself that he knows those things? I am not asking about those reasons which depend on conjecture, which are dragged every way by discussions, and which do not admit any necessity of persuasion. Let the geometricians look to that, who profess not to persuade men to believe them, but to compel them to do so; and who prove to you everything that they describe. I am not asking these men for those principles of the mathematicians, which, if they be not granted, they cannot advance a single step; such as that a point is a thing which has no magnitude,-that an extremity or levelness, as it were, is a s.p.a.ce which has no thickness,-that a line is length without breadth.
Though I should grant that all these axioms are true, if I were to add an oath, do you think a wise man would swear that the sun is many degrees greater than the earth, before Archimedes had, before his eyes, made out all those calculations by which it is proved? If he does, then he will be despising the sun which he considers a G.o.d. But if he will not believe the mathematical calculations which employ a sort of constraint in teaching,-as you yourselves say,-surely he will be very far from believing the arguments of philosophers; or, if he does believe any such, which school will he believe? One may explain all the principles of natural philosophers, but it would take a long time: I ask, however, whom he will follow? Suppose for a moment that some one is now being made a wise man, but is not one yet,-what system and what school shall he select above all others? For, whatever one he selects, he will select while he is still unwise. But grant that he is a man of G.o.dlike genius, which of all the natural philosophers will he approve of above all others? For he cannot approve of more than one. I will not pursue an infinite number of questions; only let us see whom he will approve of with respect to the elements of things of which all things are composed; for there is a great disagreement among the greatest men on this subject.
x.x.xVII. First of all, Thales, one of the seven, to whom they say that the other six yielded the preeminence, said that everything originated out of water; but he failed to convince Anaximander, his countryman and companion, of this theory; for his idea was that there was an infinity of nature from which all things were produced. After him, his pupil, Anaximenes, said that the air was infinite, but that the things which were generated from it were finite; and that the earth, and water, and fire, were generated, and that from them was produced everything else.
Anaxagoras said that matter was infinite; but that from it were produced minute particles resembling one another; that at first they were confused, but afterwards brought into order by divine intellect. Xenophanes, who was a little more ancient still, a.s.serted that all things were only one single being, and that that being was immutable and a G.o.d, not born, but everlasting, of a globular form. Parmenides considered that it is fire that moves the earth, which is formed out of it. Leucippus thought that there was a _plenum_, and a _vacuum_; Democritus resembled him in this idea, but was more copious on other matters: Empedocles adopts the theory of the four ordinary and commonly known elements. Herac.l.i.tus refers everything to fire; Melissus thinks that what exists is infinite, immutable, always has existed, and always will. Plato thinks that the world was made by G.o.d, so as to be eternal, out of matter which collects everything to itself. The Pythagoreans affirm that everything proceeds from numbers, and from the principles of mathematicians.
Now of all these different teachers the wise man will, I imagine, select some one to follow; all the rest, numerous, and great men as they are, will be discarded by him and condemned; but whichever doctrine he approves of he will retain in his mind, being comprehended in the same manner as those things which he comprehends by means of the senses; nor will he feel any greater certainty of the fact of its now being day, than, since he is a Stoic, of this world being wise, being endowed with intellect, which has made both itself and the world, and which regulates, sets in motion, and governs everything. He will also be persuaded that the sun, and moon, and all the stars, and the earth, and sea, are G.o.ds, because a certain animal intelligence pervades and pa.s.ses through them all: but nevertheless that it will happen some day or other that all this world will be burnt up with fire.
x.x.xVIII. Suppose that all this is true: (for you see already that I admit that something is true,) still I deny that these things are comprehended and perceived. For when that wise Stoic of yours has repeated all that to you, syllable by syllable, Aristotle will come forward pouring forth a golden stream of eloquence, and p.r.o.nounce him a fool; and a.s.sert that the world has never had a beginning, because there never existed any beginning of so admirable a work from the adoption of a new plan: and that the world is so excellently made in every part that no power could be great enough to cause such motion, and such changes; nor could any time whatever be long enough to produce an old age capable of causing all this beauty to decay and perish. It will be indispensable for you to deny this, and to defend the former doctrine as you would your own life and reputation; may I not have even leave to entertain a doubt on the matter? To say nothing about the folly of people who a.s.sent to propositions rashly, what value am I to set upon a liberty which will not allow to me what is necessary for you? Why did G.o.d, when he was making everything for the sake of man, (for this is your doctrine,) make such a mult.i.tude of water-serpents and vipers? Why did he scatter so many pernicious and fatal things over the earth? You a.s.sert that all this universe could not have been made so beautifully and so ingeniously without some G.o.dlike wisdom; the majesty of which you trace down even to the perfection of bees and ants; so that it would seem that there must have been a Myrmecides(12) among the G.o.ds; the maker of all animated things.
You say that nothing can have any power without G.o.d. Exactly opposite is the doctrine of Strato of Lampsacus, who gives that G.o.d of his exemption from all important business. But as the priests of the G.o.ds have a holiday, how much more reasonable is it that the G.o.ds should have one themselves? He then a.s.serts that he has no need of the aid of the G.o.ds to account for the making of the world. Everything that exists, he says, was made by Nature: not agreeing with that other philosopher who teaches, that the universe is a concrete ma.s.s of rough and smooth, and hooked and crooked bodies, with the addition of a vacuum: this he calls a dream of Democritus, and says that he is here not teaching, but wishing;-but he himself, examining each separate part of the world, teaches that whatever exists, and whatever is done, is caused, or has been caused, by natural weights and motions. In this way he releases G.o.d from a great deal of hard work, and me from fear; for who is there who, (when he thinks that he is an object of divine care,) does not feel an awe of the divine power day and night? And who, whenever any misfortunes happen to him (and what man is there to whom none happen?) feels a dread lest they may have befallen him deservedly-not, indeed, that I agree with that; but neither do I with you: at one time I think one doctrine more probable, and at other times I incline to the other.
x.x.xIX. All these mysteries, O Lucullus, lie concealed and enveloped in darkness so thick that no human ingenuity has a sight sufficiently piercing to penetrate into heaven, and dive into the earth. We do not understand our own bodies: we do not know what is the situation of their different parts, or what power each part has: therefore, the physicians themselves, whose business it was to understand these things, have opened bodies in order to lay those parts open to view. And yet empirics say that they are not the better known for that; because it is possible that, by being laid open and uncovered, they may be changed. But is it possible for us, in the same manner, to anatomize, and open, and dissect the natures of things, so as to see whether the earth is firmly fixed on its foundations and sticks firm on its roots, if I may so say, or whether it hangs in the middle of a vacuum? Xenophanes says that the moon is inhabited, and that it is a country of many cities and mountains. These a.s.sertions seem strange, but the man who has made them could not take his oath that such is the case; nor could I take mine that it is not the case. You also say that, opposite to us, on the contrary side of the earth, there are people who stand with their feet opposite to our feet, and you call them Antipodes. Why are you more angry with me, who do not despise these theories, than with those who, when they hear them, think that you are beside yourselves?
Hiretas of Syracuse, as Theophrastus tells us, thinks that the sun, and moon, and stars, and all the heavenly bodies, in short, stand still; and that nothing in the world moves except the earth; and, as that turns and revolves on its own axis with the greatest rapidity, he thinks that everything is made to appear by it as if it were the heaven which is moved while the earth stands still. And, indeed, some people think that Plato, in the Timaeus, a.s.serts this, only rather obscurely. What is your opinion, Epicurus? Speak. Do you think that the sun is so small?-Do I? Do you yourselves think it so large? But all of you are ridiculed by him, and you in your turn mock him. Socrates, then, is free from this ridicule, and so is Ariston of Chios, who thinks that none of these matters can be known.
But I return to the mind and body. Is it sufficiently known by us what is the nature of the sinews and of the veins? Do we comprehend what the mind is?-where it is?-or, in short, whether it exists at all, or whether, as Dicaearchus thinks, there is no such thing whatever? If there is such a thing, do we know whether it has three divisions, as Plato thought; those of reason, anger, and desire?-or whether it is single and uniform? If it is single and uniform, do we know whether it is fire, or breath, or blood?-or, as Xenocrates says, number without a body?-though, what sort of thing that is, is not very easy to understand. And whatever it is, do we know whether it is mortal or eternal? For many arguments are alleged on both sides.
XL. Some of these theories seem certain to your wise man: but ours does not even see what is most probable; so nearly equal in weight are the opposite arguments in most cases. If you proceed more modestly, and reproach me, not because I do not a.s.sent to your reasoning, but because I do not a.s.sent to any, I will not resist any further: but I will select some one with whom I may agree. Whom shall I choose?-whom? Democritus?
for, as you know, I have always been a favourer of n.o.ble birth. I shall be at once overwhelmed with the reproaches of your whole body. Can you think, they will say to me, that there is any vacuum, when everything is so filled and close packed that whenever any body leaves its place and moves, the place which it leaves is immediately occupied by some other body? Or can you believe that there are any atoms to which whatever is made by their combination is entirely unlike? or that any excellent thing can be made without intellect? And, since this admirable beauty is found in one world, do you think that there are also innumerable other worlds, above, below, on the right hand and on the left, before, and behind, some unlike this one, and some of the same kind? And, as we are now at Bauli, and are beholding Puteoli, do you think that there are in other places like these a countless host of men, of the same names and rank, and exploits, and talents, and appearances, and ages, arguing on the same subjects? And if at this moment, or when we are asleep, we seem to see anything in our mind, do you think that those images enter from without, penetrating into our minds through our bodies? You can never adopt such ideas as these, or give your a.s.sent to such preposterous notions. It is better to have no ideas at all than to have such erroneous ones as these.
Your object, then, is not to make me sanction anything by my a.s.sent. If it were, consider whether it would not be an impudent, not to say an arrogant demand, especially as these principles of yours do not seem to me to be even probable. For I do not believe that there is any such thing as divination, which you a.s.sent to; and I also despise fate, by which you say that everything is regulated. I do not even believe that this world was formed by divine wisdom; or, I should rather say, I do not know whether it was so formed or not.
XLI. But why should you seek to disparage me? May I not confess that I do not understand what I really do not? Or may the Stoics argue with one other, and may I not argue with them? Zeno, and nearly all the rest of the Stoics, consider aether as the Supreme G.o.d, being endued with reason, by which everything is governed. Cleanthes, who we may call a Stoic, _Majorum Gentium_, the pupil of Zeno, thinks that the Sun has the supreme rule over and government of everything. We are compelled, therefore, by the dissensions of these wise men, to be ignorant of our own ruler, inasmuch as we do not know whether we are subjects of the Sun or of aether. But the great size of the sun, (for this present radiance of his appears to be looking at me,) warns me to make frequent mention of him. Now you all speak of his magnitude as if you had measured it with a ten-foot rule, (though I refuse credit to your measurement, looking on you as but bad architects.) Is there then any room for doubt, which of us, to speak as gently as possible, is the more modest of the two? Not, however, that I think those questions of the natural philosophers deserving of being utterly banished from our consideration; for the consideration and contemplation of nature is a sort of natural food, if I may say so, for our minds and talents. We are elevated by it, we seem to be raised above the earth, we look down on human affairs; and by fixing our thoughts on high and heavenly things we despise the affairs of this life, as small and inconsiderable. The mere investigation of things of the greatest importance, which are at the same time very secret, has a certain pleasure in it. And when anything meets us which appears likely, our minds are filled with pleasure thoroughly worthy of a man. Both your wise man and ours, then, will inquire into these things; but yours will do so in order to a.s.sent, to feel belief, to express affirmation; ours, with such feelings that he will fear to yield rashly to opinion, and will think that he has succeeded admirably if in matters of this kind he has found out anything which is likely.
Let us now come to the question of the knowledge of good and evil. But we must say a few words by way of preface. It appears to me that they who speak so positively about those questions of natural philosophy, do not reflect that they are depriving themselves of the authority of those ideas which appear more clear. For they cannot give a clearer a.s.sent to, or a more positive approval of the fact that it is now daylight, than they do, when the crow croaks, to the idea that it is commanding or prohibiting something. Nor will they affirm that that statue is six feet high more positively after they have measured it, than that the sun, which they cannot measure, is more than eighteen times as large as the earth. From which this conclusion arises: if it cannot be perceived how large the sun is, he who a.s.sents to other things in the same manner as he does to the magnitude of the sun, does not perceive them. But the magnitude of the sun cannot be perceived. He, then, who a.s.sents to a statement about it, as if he perceived it, perceives nothing. Suppose they were to reply that it is possible to perceive how large the sun is; I will not object as long as they admit that other things too can be perceived and comprehended in the same manner. For they cannot affirm that one thing can be comprehended more or less than another, since there is only one definition of the comprehension of everything.
XLII. However, to go back to what I had begun to say-What have we in good and bad certainly ascertained? (we must, of course, fix boundaries to which the sum of good and evil is to be referred;) what subject, in fact, is there about which there is a greater disagreement between the most learned men? I say nothing about those points which seem now to be abandoned; or about Herillus, who places the chief good in knowledge and science: and though he had been a pupil of Zeno, you see how far he disagrees with him, and how very little he differs from Plato. The school of the Megaric philosophers was a very celebrated one; and its chief, as I see it stated in books, was Xenophanes, whom I mentioned just now. After him came Parmenides and Zeno; and from them the Eleatic philosophers get their name. Afterwards came Euclid of Megara, a pupil of Socrates, from whom that school got the name of Megaric. And they defined that as the only good which was always one, alike, and identical. They also borrowed a great deal from Plato. But the Eretrian philosophers, who were so called from Menedumus, because he was a native of Eretria, placed all good in the mind, and in that acuteness of the mind by which the truth is discerned.
The Megarians say very nearly the same, only that they, I think, develop their theory with more elegance and richness of ill.u.s.tration. If we now despise these men, and think them worthless, at all events we ought to show more respect for Ariston, who, having been a pupil of Zeno, adopted in reality the principles which he had a.s.serted in words; namely, that there was nothing good except virtue, and nothing evil except what was contrary to virtue; and who denied altogether the existence of those influences which Zeno contended for as being intermediate, and neither good nor evil. His idea of the chief good, is being affected in neither direction by these circ.u.mstances; and this state of mind he calls ?d?af???a; but Pyrrho a.s.serts that the wise man does not even feel them; and that state is called ?p??e?a.
To say nothing, then, of all these opinions, let us now examine those others which have been long and vigorously maintained. Some have accounted pleasure the chief good; the chief of whom was Aristippus, who had been a pupil of Socrates, and from whom the Cyrenaic school spring. After him came Epicurus, whose school is now better known, though he does not exactly agree with the Cyrenaics about pleasure itself. But Callipho thought that pleasure and honour combined made up the chief good.
Hieronymus placed it in being free from all annoyance; Diodorus in this state when combined with honour. Both these last men were Peripatetics. To live honourably, enjoying those things which nature makes most dear to man, was the definition both of the Old Academy, (as we may learn from the writings of Polemo, who is highly approved of by Antiochus,) and of Aristotle, and it is the one to which his friends appear now to come nearest. Carneades also introduced a definition, (not because he approved of it himself, but for the sake of opposition to the Stoics,) that the chief good is to enjoy those things which nature has made man consider as most desirable. But Zeno laid it down that that honourableness which arises from conformity to nature is the chief good. And Zeno was the founder and chief of the Stoic school.
XLIII. This now is plain enough, that all these chief goods which I have mentioned have a chief evil corresponding to them, which is their exact opposite. I now put it to you, whom shall I follow? only do not let any one make me so ignorant and absurd a reply as, Any one, provided only that you follow some one or other. Nothing more inconsiderate can be said: I wish to follow the Stoics. Will Antiochus, (I do not say Aristotle, a man almost, in my opinion, unrivalled as a philosopher, but will Antiochus) give me leave? And he was called an Academic; but he would have been, with very little alteration, something very like a Stoic. The matter shall now be brought to a decision. For we must either give the wise man to the Stoics or to the Old Academy. He cannot belong to both; for the contention between them is not one about boundaries, but about the whole territory.
For the whole system of life depends on the definition of the chief good; and those who differ on that point, differ about the whole system of life.