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Political changes of the 4th century.

58. Before a hundred years had passed since the death of Socrates, the face of the Greek world had been completely changed. Athens, Lacedaemon, Corinth, Thebes, which had been great powers, had sunk into comparative insignificance; their preeminence was gone, and even of their independence but little remained. Throughout Greece proper the Macedonian was master. But if the old-fashioned politician suffered a bitter disappointment, and the adherents of the old polytheism despaired of the future, there was rich compensation for the young and the hopeful. Petty wars between neighbouring cities, with their wearisome refrain ‘and the men they killed, and the women and children they enslaved[1],’ began to be less common; internal and still more murderous strife between bigoted oligarchs or democrats began to be checked from without. For the enlightened Greek a new world of enterprise had been opened up in the East. Alexander the Great had not only conquered Asia Minor, and established everywhere the Greek language and a Greek bureaucracy; he had opened the way to the far East, and pointed out India and even China as fields for the merchant and the colonizer. His work had been partly frustrated by the disorders that followed his death; but if achievement was thus hindered, hopes were not so quickly extinguished. These new hopes were not likely to be accompanied by any lasting regrets for the disappearance of ancient systems of government now regarded as effete or ridiculous, or of inherited mythologies which were at every point in conflict with the moral sense[2].

East and West.

59. The same historic events which opened the East to Hellenic adventurers also made the way into Europe easy for the Oriental. As the soldier and the administrator travelled eastward, so the merchant and the philosopher pushed his way to the West. Not merely in Persia had ancient superstitions been swept away by reforming zeal; the Jews were now spreading from town to town the enthusiasm of a universalized religion which was ridding itself of bloody sacrifices; and, for the time at least, the humane philosophy of the Buddha was dominant in India, was being preached far and wide by self-sacrificing monks, and was inspiring the policy of great monarchies. We find it hard to picture the clashing of ideals, enthusiasms, and ambitions which was at this time taking place in all the great cities of the old world; but it is certain that in the universal excitement the old distinctions of Greek and barbarian, Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, free and slave, man and woman were everywhere becoming weakened, and community of thought and temperament were beginning to reunite on a new basis individuals who had broken loose from the ties of ancient society.

New schools of philosophy.

60. During this fourth century B.C. the foundations were laid of the four philosophical schools which were destined to vie one with another for the allegiance of the Roman world. The Socratic schools which we have already mentioned, those of the Cynics and Cyrenaics, did not perhaps altogether die out; in particular the Cynic missionaries appear to have been a social force until the second century B.C. But their intellectual basis was too narrow to admit of their effective transplantation to new soil. At the end of the century each gave place to a new school, which preserved the central doctrines of its predecessor. The Socratic paradoxes were handed on from the Cynics to the Stoics; the doctrine that pleasure is the good was accepted by Epicurus. Stoics and Epicureans disputed with a bitterness as yet unequalled, finding themselves just as much opposed upon the subjects of logic and physics, which they introduced anew into popular philosophy, as upon the questions of ethics on which their antipathies were inherited. Between them stood two schools which had meanwhile established themselves. Plato, himself a companion of Socrates, founded the Academy at Athens about 380 B.C.; and if he did not impress his own teaching upon it with absolute fixity, still the school flourished under a succession of leaders, always proud of the fame of its founder, and rendering him at least a nominal allegiance. From the Academy branched off the school of the Peripatetics, founded by Plato’s pupil Aristotle about 350 B.C. After Aristotle’s death this school gravitated towards the Academics, and in later centuries there seemed little difference, if any, between the two. If Stoicism may be called the child of Cynism, it largely drew nourishment from these two schools and their founders. Some account of the teaching of Plato and Aristotle is therefore needed here, partly because of the great importance of both in the general history of philosophy, partly because of their direct influence upon the subject of this book. On account of the much greater prominence of the Academy in the later history we shall often use this term to refer to the general teaching of the two allied schools.

Plato.

61. Of all the companions of Socrates far the most famous is Plato of Athens (427-347 B.C.), the founder of the philosophical association known as the ‘Academy.’ In the general judgment of lovers of Greek letters he stands out not merely as a great master of Attic prose style, but also as the ablest exponent of the true mind of Socrates[3], and the most brilliant light of Greek philosophy[4]. On the first point this judgment stands unchallenged; for delicate and good-natured wit, felicity of illustration and suggestiveness of thought the Platonic dialogues are unrivalled. But it is only in his earlier writings that we can accept Plato as a representative of Socrates; after the death of his master he travelled for many years in Egypt, Lower Italy, and Sicily, and absorbed in particular much of the teaching of the Pythagoreans. The theory of ‘ideas,’ the special characteristic of Plato’s later work, is not strictly Socratic. Neither, we must add, is it of first-rate importance in the history of human thought; from our point of view it lies apart from the main current both of speculation and of practice. It was a still-born theory, not accepted even by Plato’s successors in the control of the Academy[5]. We are therefore very little concerned with the direct teaching of Plato; but all the more readily it should be acknowledged that the Stoics were often indebted to him for help in the treatment of important details, and that the Platonic attitude remained for them a factor of which they needed continuously to take account.

Plato’s realism.

62. A striking feature of the Platonic dialogues is that their results are usually negative. First the opinions of the crowd, then those of Socrates’ contemporaries the ‘sophists’ and of the other Socratic schools are subjected to a cross-examination, under which they are one and all shewn to be unreasonable. This cross-examination is quite in the Socratic spirit, and is before all things a mental gymnastic, training the dialectician to observe with keener eye and to discuss with apter tongue than his fellows. Gradually there emerges from a mass of doubts something like a positive theory that Plato is prepared to adopt. The true reasoning is that of induction from the particular to the general, from the individual to the class. In the class name we come upon the true being of the individual, and by a right definition of it we discern what each thing really is. The ‘idea,’ which corresponds to the class name, is alone really existent; the individual is a more or less imperfect imitation of it (μίμησις). In this way Plato found what seemed to him a solution of a difficulty which Socrates hardly felt, that of explaining the participation (μέθεξις) of the particular in the general (ὑπόθεσις or ἰδέα). Thus where ordinary men see ‘horses,’ and Antisthenes holds that they are right, Plato sees ‘horsiness,’ or the idea of ‘horse.’ In the language of medieval philosophy Plato is a realist, that is, one who holds that our Ideas are more than what men mean when they say ‘mere ideas’; that they are Realities, and have their being in a truly existing world; and that in knowing them we know what is. But just as Plato holds that general conceptions are alone true and real, so he necessarily maintains that objects perceivable by the senses are only half-real, and that the ordinary man lives in a world of illusions. Thus the thoughts of the philosopher are separated by an abyss from the world in which men live and die.

God and the soul.

63. Upon the basis of the individual ‘ideas’ Plato builds up by a process of classification and induction higher and smaller classes of ideas, until we begin to see the vision of a single idea, a class which includes all classes, a supreme ‘being’ from which all being is derived. This highest idea is variously suggested by the names ‘the Good,’ ‘the Beautiful,’ ‘the One.’ By a sudden transformation it becomes the Creator (δημιουργός) of the universe. Containing in itself all being, it needs for its operation some kind of formless and inert matter; for this the name ἄπειρον, ‘the unlimited,’ is taken from Anaximander. The whole created universe may be considered as the joint production of the ‘idea’ and the ‘unlimited’; and the cosmology of Anaxagoras, ‘all things were together, and mind came and ordered them,’ is substantially justified. The world thus created is both good and beautiful, for it is made by a good Creator on the best of patterns.

The human soul is of triple nature. The highest part, the rational soul (τὸ λογιστικόν), is seated in the head; the emotional soul (τὸ θυμοειδές) in the heart; the appetitive soul (τὸ ἐπιθυμητικόν) in the belly. Over these two lower souls the reasoning part should hold control, as a driver over two unruly steeds[6]. The rational soul has existed before birth, and may hope for immortality, for it is knit up with the idea of ‘being.’ Ultimately it may even attain to perfection, if it is purified as by fire from baser elements that have attached themselves to it.

Ethics and Politics.

64. Plato himself does not formulate an ethical ideal of the same precision that his successors used, but we infer from his works a goal towards which he points. Thus the ethical end for each man is the greatest possible participation in the idea of the good, the closest attainable imitation of the deity. The virtue of each part of the human soul lies in the fit performance of its proper work; that of the reasoning soul is Wisdom (σοφία); of the emotional soul Courage (ἀνδρεία); of the appetitive soul Soberness (σοφροσύνη). Over all (it is hinted rather than stated) rules the supreme virtue of Justice (δικαιοσύνη), assigning to each part its proper function. Thus the four cardinal virtues are deduced as a practical application from the Platonic psychology. The high position assigned to Justice leads up to the practical doctrine of Moderation (μετριότης); even the virtues are restricted both in their intensity and in their spheres of work, and if any virtue passes its proper limit it becomes changed into the vice that borders on it. Thus the ideal of practical life is the ‘moderate man,’ calm, considerate, and self-respecting, touched with a warm flow of feeling, but never carried away into excitement; and even this ideal is strictly subordinate to that of the life of philosophic contemplation.

The ideal State is modelled on the individual man. To the three parts of the soul correspond three classes of citizens; the rulers, whose virtue is Wisdom; the guardians, on whom Courage is incumbent; the labourers and tradesmen, who owe the State Soberness and obedience. Thus the political system to which Plato leans is that of an Aristocracy; for the middle class in his state has only an executive part in the government, and the lower orders are entirely excluded from it.

Aristotle.

65. By far the greatest of Plato’s pupils was Aristotle of Stagira (384-322 B.C.), who introduced into philosophy, now convulsed by the disputes of the disciples of Socrates, a spirit of reconciliation. From his point of view the various contentions are not so much erroneous as defective. To attain the truth we need first to collect the various opinions that are commonly held, and then to seek the reconciling formula of which each one is a partial statement.

The ten categories.

66. In his investigation Aristotle did not altogether break with Plato’s theory of ideas, but brought them from a transcendental world into touch with common life. He held fast to the method of induction (ἐπαγωγή) from the particular to the general, and agreed that we reach the true nature of each thing when we have determined the class-conception. But the class-conception or idea (ἰδέα), though the most real existence, does not exist independently, but only in and through the particulars, which compose the class. Having thus come to see that there are gradations of existence, we need to inquire what these are; and to classify the various kinds of judgment with regard to which we inquire whether they are true or false. Now by observation we find that judgments or predications have ten different shapes, to which therefore there must correspond ten kinds of existence. These are the well-known ‘categories’ of Aristotle, and are as follows:

 (i) ‘substance,’ as when we say ‘this is a man,’ ‘a horse’;

 (ii) ‘quantity,’ as that he is ‘six feet high’;

 (iii) ‘quality,’ as ‘a grammarian’;

 (iv) ‘relation,’ as ‘twice as much’;

 (v) ‘place,’ as ‘at Athens’;

 (vi) ‘time,’ as ‘last year’;

 (vii) ‘position,’ as ‘lying down’;

 (viii) ‘possession,’ as ‘with a sword’;

 (ix) ‘action,’ as ‘cuts’; and

 (x) ‘passion,’ as ‘is cut’ or ‘is burned.’

Aristotle thus reinstates the credit of the common man; he it is who possesses the substance of truth and gives it habitual expression by speech, even roughly indicating the various kinds of existence by different forms of words. It is now indicated that a study of grammar is required as the foundation of logic.

Aristotle also greatly advanced the study of that kind of reasoning which proceeds from the general to the particular, and which is best expressed in terms of the ‘syllogism’ (συλλογισμός), of which he defined the various forms.

The four causes.

67. In the study of physics Aristotle picks up the thread which Socrates had dropped deliberately, that is, the teaching of the Ionic philosophers. Either directly from Empedocles, or from a consensus of opinion now fairly established, he accepted the doctrine of the four elements (στοιχεῖα), earth, water, air, and fire; but to these he added a fifth (πεμπτὸν στοιχεῖον, quinta essentia), the aether, which fills the celestial spaces. Behind this analysis lies the more important problem of cosmology, the question how this world comes to be. Collecting once more the opinions commonly held, Aristotle concludes that four questions are usually asked, and that in them the search is being made for four ‘causes,’ which will solve the respective questions. The four causes are:

 (i) the Creator, or ‘efficient cause,’ answering the question;—Who made the world?

 (ii) the Substance, or ‘material cause’;—of what did he make it?

 (iii) the Plan, or ‘modal cause’;—according to what design?

 (iv) the End, or ‘final cause’;—for what purpose?[7]

Reviewing these ‘causes’ Aristotle concludes that the first, third, and fourth are ultimately one, the Creator containing in his own nature both the plan and the purpose of his work[8]. The solution is therefore dualistic, and agrees substantially with that of Plato; the ultimate existences are (i) an informing power, and (ii) matter that has the potentiality of accepting form.

In consequence of this dualism of Aristotle the term ‘matter’ (ὕλη, materia) has ever since possessed associations which did not belong to it in the time of the hylozoists. Matter now begins to suggest something lifeless, inert, and unintelligent; and to be sharply contrasted not only with such conceptions as ‘God’ and ‘mind,’ but also with motion and force. For this reason the Stoics in reintroducing monism preferred a new term, as we shall see below[9].

The microcosm.

68. What God is to the universe, that the soul is to the body, which is a ‘little universe[10].’ But the reasoning part of the soul only is entirely distinct; this is of divine nature, and has entered the body from without; it is at once its formative principle, its plan, and its end. The lower parts of the soul are knit up with the body, and must perish with it. So far Aristotle’s teaching differs little from that of Plato; but a new point of view is introduced when he speaks of the soul as subject to ‘diseases’ (παθήματα), and thus assigns to the practical philosopher a social function as the comrade of the physician. Amongst the diseases he specially names Pity and Fear, which assail the emotional part of the soul. Their cure is found in ‘purging’ (κάθαρσις), that is to say in their complete expulsion from the soul, as reason and circumstances may require; but Aristotle by no means considers that the analogy between body and soul is complete, or that the emotions should always be regarded as injurious[11].

Ethics and Politics.

69. In setting forth an ideal for human activity Aristotle conceives that other philosophers have differed more in words than in substance, and he hopes to reconcile them through the new term ‘blessedness’ (εὐδαιμονία). This blessedness is attained when the soul is actively employed in a virtuous way, and when it is so circumstanced that it commands the instruments of such action, that is, in a life which is adequately furnished. On such activity pleasure must assuredly attend, and it is therefore needless to seek it of set purpose. Further, virtue appears personified in the ‘true gentleman’ (καλὸς κἀγαθός), who ever avoids vicious extremes, and finds his highest satisfaction in pure contemplation, just as the Creator himself lives to contemplate the world he has produced[12].

In politics Aristotle can find ground for approving in turn of monarchy, oligarchy, and democracy, according to the circumstances of each state. We cannot however but feel that his sympathies point most towards monarchy, and that his personal association with Alexander the Great was in full harmony with his inmost convictions. As a means of government he advocates before all things the education of the young.

Social prepossessions.

70. The philosophies of Plato and Aristotle, comprehensive in their range, brilliant and varied in their colouring, nevertheless appeal effectively only to a limited circle. Socrates had been the companion of rich and poor alike; Plato and Aristotle addressed themselves to men of wealth, position, and taste. Their sympathies appear clearly in their political systems, in which the sovereign or the aristocracy is considered fit to play a part, whilst the many are practically excluded from the commonwealth, sometimes as a harmless flock which needs kindly shepherding, and at other times as a dangerous crowd which must be deceived or enslaved for its own good. These prepossessions, which we shall find reappearing within the Stoic system, appear to weaken the practical forcefulness of both philosophies. In the ideal character the Socratic ‘force’ has disappeared, and ‘self-restraint’ alone is the standard of virtue; the just man moves quietly and conventionally through life, perhaps escaping blame, but hardly achieving distinction. In resuming the study of ontology, which Socrates had treated as a ‘mist from Ionia,’ bright fancies had been elaborated rather than dominating conceptions; the deity of Aristotle seems but a faint reflex of the god of Socrates and the Cynics, and neither the ‘idea’ of Plato or the ‘matter’ of Aristotle is so well fitted for the world’s hard work as the atoms of Leucippus and Democritus. The teachers who succeeded to the control of the two schools inclined more and more to engross themselves in special studies, and to leave on one side the great controversial problems.

The Academics.

71. The followers of Plato were known as the ‘Academics’: amongst them we must distinguish between the members of the ‘old Academy,’ as Cicero terms them[13], and those who followed the innovations of Arcesilaus. The old Academy chiefly developed the ethical side of Plato’s teaching, finding that the path of virtue is indicated by the natural capacities of the individual. Thus Xenocrates of Chalcedon (396-314 B.C.) taught that each man’s happiness resulted from the virtue proper to him (οἰκεία ἀρετή)[14]; whilst Polemo of Athens (head of the school 314-270 B.C.) is said by Cicero to have defined it as consisting in ‘virtuous living, aided by those advantages to which nature first draws us,’ thereby practically adopting the standard of Aristotle[15]. The teaching of Polemo had a direct influence upon that of Zeno the founder of Stoicism.

But with the first successes of Stoicism the Academy revived its dialectical position, in strong opposition to the dogmatism of the new school. Arcesilaus of Pitane in Aeolia (315-240 B.C.) revived the Socratic cross-examination, always opposing himself to any theory that might be propounded to him, and drawing the conclusion that truth could never be certainly known[16]. Life must therefore be guided by considerations of probability, and the ethical standard is that ‘of which a reasonable defence may be made[17].’ This sceptical attitude was carried still further by Carneades of Cyrene (214-129 B.C.), whose acute criticism told upon the Stoic leaders of his time, and forced them to abandon some of their most important positions. From this time a reconciliation between the two schools set in[18].

The Peripatetics.

72. The members of the Peripatetic school founded by Aristotle are of less importance to us. The Romans found little difference between their teaching and that of the earlier Academy. Cicero mentions that the Stoic Panaetius was a keen student of two of the pupils of Aristotle, Theophrastus (his successor as head of the Peripatetic school) and Dicaearchus[19]; amongst later teachers in whose views he is interested he names Hieronymus, who held that the supreme good was freedom from pain[20]; Callipho, who combined virtue with pleasure, and Diodorus who combined it with freedom from pain[21]; and amongst his contemporaries Staseas of Naples, who stated the same doctrines in a slightly different form[22], and Cratippus, whom he selected as a teacher for his own son[23]. It was a common complaint of these teachers that the Stoics had stolen their doctrines wholesale, and (as is the way with thieves) had altered the names only[24]. All these writers however agree in denying the doctrine which Zeno accepted from the Cynics that ‘virtue is sufficient for happiness,’ and lay stress upon the supply of external goods (χορηγία) as needed to admit of the active exercise of virtue. They were diligent students of the written works of their founder, and thus opened the way for the work of erudition and interpretation which found its centre in Alexandria in a later period.

Zeno.

73. Amidst the conflict of these schools Zeno grew up. Born in Citium on the island of Cyprus in 336 B.C., in the same year in which Alexander became king of Macedon, he heard as a boy of the Greek conquest of the East, and was only 13 years of age when its course was checked by the death of Alexander. Of the town of Citium the inhabitants were partly Greek, partly Phoenician; and Zeno, whether or not he was of Phoenician blood, certainly derived from his environment something of the character of the enterprising and much-travelled Phoenician nation, and imparted this trait to the school which he founded. He was nicknamed by his contemporaries ‘the Phoenician,’ and the title clung to his followers[25]. His father was a merchant of purple, and often travelled in the one direction to Tyre and Sidon, in the other as far as Athens, whence he brought back a number of ‘Socratic books,’ which were eagerly read by the young Zeno, and in time attracted him to the famous Greek city[26]. We may presume that when he first came to Athens he intended to carry further his studies without abandoning his calling; but when news reached him of the wreck of the ship which carried all his goods, he welcomed it as a call to devote himself entirely to philosophy[27]. His first step in Athens was to seek out the man who best represented the character of Socrates, as represented in Xenophon’s Memoirs; and it is said that a bookseller accordingly pointed him to Crates of Thebes[28], the pupil and (it would seem) the successor of Diogenes as acknowledged head of the Cynic school.

Zeno joins the Cynics.

74. Our authorities busy themselves chiefly with narrating the eccentricities of Crates, who wore warm clothing in summer and rags in winter, entered the theatre as the audience were coming out, and drank water instead of wine. But doubtless, like his predecessors in the Cynic school, he was a man of the true Socratic character, who had trained himself to bear hunger and thirst, heat and cold, flattery and abuse. His life and wisdom won him the love of the high-born Hipparchia, who turned from her wealthy and noble suitors, choosing instead the poverty of Crates, who had abandoned all his possessions. In his company she went from house to house, knocking at all doors in turn, sometimes admonishing the inmates of their sins, sometimes sharing with them their meals[29]. In such a life Zeno recognised the forcefulness of Socrates, and in the dogmas of the Cynic school he reached the foundation on which that life was built. From that foundation neither Zeno nor his true followers ever departed, and thus Stoicism embodied and spread the fundamental dogmas of Cynism, that the individual alone is really existent, that virtue is the supreme good, and that the wise man, though a beggar, is truly a king.

Zeno’s Republic.

75. Whilst still an adherent of the Cynic school[30], Zeno wrote his Πολιτεία or Republic, which is evidently an attack on Plato’s work with the same title[31]. If this work does not reveal to us the fully developed philosopher, it at least shews us better than any other evidence what the man Zeno was. His ideal was the establishment of a perfect State, a completion of the work in which Alexander had failed; and he found a starting-point in a treatise by Antisthenes on the same subject. The ideal State must embrace the whole world, so that a man no longer says, ‘I am of Athens,’ or ‘of Sidon,’ but ‘I am a citizen of the world[32].’ Its laws must be those which are prescribed by nature, not by convention. It will have no images or temples, for these are unworthy of the nature of the deity; no sacrifices, because he cannot be pleased by costly gifts; no law-courts, for its citizens will do one another no harm; no statues, for the virtues of its inhabitants will be its adornment[33]; no gymnasia, for its youth must not waste their time in idle exercises[34].

The people will not be divided into classes (and here Plato’s Republic is contradicted), for all alike will be wise men[35]; nor will men and women be clothed differently, or shamefacedly hide any part of their bodies[36]. No man will speak of a woman as his property, for women will belong to the community only[37]. As for the dead, men will not trouble whether they bury them (as the Greeks), burn them (as the Indians), or give them to the birds (as the Persians); for it matters not at all what happens to men’s dead bodies[38], but whether their souls shall reach the abodes of the blest, or need hereafter to be purged by fire from the foulness they have contracted through contact with the body[39]. To conclude, Love shall be master throughout the State, being as it were a God cooperating for the good of the whole[40]; and the wise man shall be a citizen in it, not a missionary, and shall be surrounded with wife and children[41].

Zeno seeks knowledge.

76. Zeno, after writing his Republic, took up a position more independent of the Cynics. He could not, perhaps, avoid noticing that the coming of his model Kingdom was hindered by the narrowmindedness of the philosophers, their disagreement one with another, and their lack of clear proofs for their dogmas. He began to realize that the study of dialectics and physics was of more importance than his Cynic teachers would allow; and he seems to have conceived the idea of uniting the Socratic schools. He became eager to learn from all sources, and turned first to Stilpo, who then represented the Megarian school[42]. Crates, we are told, tried to drag him back from Stilpo by force; to which Zeno retorted that argument would be more to the point[43]. From this time he no longer restricted his outlook to force of character, but sought also for argumentative power and well ascertained knowledge. The foundations of his state must be surely laid, not upon the changing tide of opinion, but on the rock of knowledge. That a wise man should hesitate, change his views, withdraw his advice, he felt would be a bitter reproach[44]. If indeed virtue, the supreme good, is knowledge, must it not follow that knowledge is within the reach of man?

Zeno’s theory of knowledge.

77. The chief cause of error, Zeno found, lay in hasty assertion; and this he held was a fault not so much of the intellect as of the will. In the simplest case the senses present to the mind a ‘picture’ (φαντασία, visum), carrying with it the suggestion of a statement (e.g. ‘that is a horse’). But it is for the man to consider well whether this suggestion is true, and only to give his ‘assent’ (συγκατάθεσις, adsensus) when he is so assured. Assent is an act of the will, and therefore in our power. Of a picture to which he has given his assent the wise man should retain a firm hold; it then becomes an item of ‘comprehension’ (φαντασία καταληπτική, comprehensio), and may be stored in the memory, thus preparing the way for further acquisitions of knowledge, which in the end combine in ‘scientific knowledge’ (ἐπιστήμη, scientia).

This theory is little more than an exhortation against the prevailing error of hasty thought (δόξα, opinio); but it made a very deep impression, especially as enforced by Zeno’s gestures. He stretched out his fingers and shewed the open palm, saying ‘Such is a picture.’ He partially contracted his fingers, and said ‘This is assent.’ Making a closed fist, he said ‘This is comprehension.’ Then closing in the left hand over the right he pressed his fist tight, and said ‘This is science, and only the wise man can attain to it[45].’

We have no reason to suppose that this theory was in any way suggested by Stilpo, from whom however Zeno probably learnt to attach importance to the formal part of reasoning, such as ‘definition’ and the use of the syllogism. With Stilpo he shared an aversion to the Platonic theory of ideas, maintaining that ideas are by no means realities but have only a ‘kind of existence’ in our minds, or (as we should call it to-day) a ‘subjective existence[46].’

Zeno studies under Polemo.

78. In becoming in turn a listener to Polemo, Zeno, we may imagine, entered a new world. He left behind the rough manners, the stinging retorts, and the narrow culture of the Cynics and Eristics[47], to sit with other intelligent students[48] at the feet of a man of cultured manners[49] and wide reading, who to a love for Homer and Sophocles[50] had, we must suppose, added an intimate knowledge of the works of Plato and Aristotle, was himself a great writer[51], and yet consistently taught that not learning, but a natural and healthy life was the end to be attained. That Zeno profited much from his studies under Polemo we may conjecture from Polemo’s good-natured complaint, ‘I see well what you are after: you break down my garden wall and steal my teaching, which you dress in Phoenician clothes[52].’ From this time it became a conventional complaint that Stoic doctrine was stolen from that of the Academics: yet the sharp conflict between the two schools shews that this cannot apply to essentials. But in two important matters at least Zeno must have been indebted to Academic teaching. This school had elaborated the doctrine of Anaxagoras, which so attracted Socrates, that the world began with the working of mind upon unordered matter. So too, according to all our authorities, Zeno taught that there are two beginnings, the active which is identified with the deity or Logos, and the passive which is inert matter, or substance without quality[53]. This doctrine appears to pledge Zeno to a dualistic view of the universe.

‘Soul is body.’

79. On the other hand the Platonic teaching on the soul was reversed by Zeno. He denied the opposition between soul and body. ‘Soul is Breath[54],’ he taught, and ‘soul is body[55].’ With Plato’s threefold division of the soul he would have nothing to do; rather he maintained that the soul has eight parts[56], each displaying itself in a distinct power or capacity, whilst all of them are qualities or operations of one soul in various relations[57]. In this part of his philosophy Zeno appears as a strong monist, and his debt to the Platonists is necessarily restricted to details.

Zeno studies Heraclitus.

80. It would seem then that Zeno after seeking for philosophic safety for some twenty years in one harbour after another had so far made shipwreck. But from this shipwreck of his intellectual hopes he could afterwards count the beginning of a fair voyage[58]. As he eagerly discussed with his younger fellow-student Arcesilaus the teaching of their master Polemon, he took courage to point out its weak points[59], and began to quote in his own defence not only his previous teachers Crates and Stilpo, but also the works of Heraclitus[60]. He thus broke down the barrier which Socrates had set up against the Ionic philosophers. From Heraclitus Zeno drew two doctrines of first-rate importance; the first, that of the eternal fire[61] and its mutation into the elements in turn[62]; the second (already referred to) that of the Logos[63]. It is evident that the Heraclitean doctrine of fire breaks down the distinction between God and the world, active and passive, soul and body; and is therefore inconsistent with the dualism which Zeno had partly borrowed from Plato. It is not clear whether Zeno attained to clearness on this point; but in the general teaching of the Stoics the monistic doctrine prevailed[64]. Hence God is not separate from body, but is himself body in its purest form[65]. The Logos or divine reason is the power which pervades and gives shape to the universe[66]; and this Logos is identical with the deity, that is with the primitive and creative Fire[67]. The Logos (ὀρθὸς λόγος, vera ratio) brings into harmony the parts of philosophy; for it is also on the one hand the guide to right reasoning[68]; on the other hand the law which prescribes what is right for the State and for the individual[69].