Chapter XXIII: The New Academy (1)

[A. Arcesilaus.]

Plato’s School was the first to put Scepticism on a firm footing, and to cultivate it as a system. It has been already remarked that after the time of Xenocrates this School gradually deserted speculative enquiries, and limited itself to Ethics. To this new tendency it consistently adhered, when, shortly after the beginning of the third century before Christ,

[(1) Denial of knowledge.]

it took a fresh lease of life. Instead, however, of simply ignoring theoretical knowledge, as it had hitherto done, it assumed towards knowledge an attitude of opposition, hoping to arrive at security and happiness in life by being persuaded of the impossibility of knowledge. How far this result was due to the example set by Pyrrho it is impossible to establish authoritatively. But it is not in itself probable that the learned originator of this line of thought in the Academy should have ignored the views of a philosopher whose work had been carried on at Elis in his own lifetime, and whose most distinguished pupil, a personal acquaintance of his own, was then working at Athens as a prolific writer. [1422] The whole tone and character, moreover, of the Scepticism of the New Academy betrays everywhere the presence of Stoic influences. By the confidence of its assertions it provokes contradiction and doubt, without its being necessary to seek an explanation by improbable conjectures as to the personal relations of Arcesilaus and Zeno. [1423]

This connection of the New Academy with Stoicism can be proved in the case of its first founder, [1424] Arcesilaus. [1425] The doubts of this philosopher are directed not only to knowledge derived from the senses, but to rational knowledge as well. [1426] The principal object of his attack was, however, the Stoic theory of irresistible impressions; [1427] and in overthrowing that theory Arcesilaus, it would seem, believed he had exploded every possibility of rational knowledge; for the Stoic appeal to the senses he regarded as the only possible form of a theory of knowledge, and the theories of Plato and Aristotle he ignored altogether. Indeed, no peculiar arguments against knowledge are referred to him. The old sceptical arguments of Plato and Socrates, of Anaxagoras, Empedocles, Democritus, Heraclitus, and Parmenides, are repeated, [1428] all of which apply only to the knowledge of the senses, and not to rational knowledge. Nevertheless, Arcesilaus aimed at overthrowing the latter along with the former. [1429] The opinion that he only used doubt to prepare for or to conceal genuine Platonism, [1430] is opposed to all credible authorities. It appears, however, established that he deemed it unnecessary to refute the theory of a knowledge existing independently of the senses.

The Stoic arguments in favour of irresistible impressions Arcesilaus met by asserting that an intermediate something between knowledge and opinion, a kind of conviction common to the wise and the unwise, such as the Stoic κατάληψις, is inconceivable; the wise man’s conviction is always knowledge, that of the fool is always opinion. [1431] Going then farther into the idea of φαντασία καταληπτική, he endeavoured to show that it contained an internal contradiction; for to conceive (κατάληψις) is to approve (συγκατάθεσις), and approval never applies to sensation, but only to thoughts and general ideas. [1432] Lastly, if the Stoics regarded force of conviction as the distinctive mark of a true or irresistible conception, and as belonging to it in distinction from every other, the Sceptic rejoined that such conceptions do not exist, and that no true conception is of such a nature, but that a false one may be equally irresistible. [1433] If no certainty of perception is possible, no knowledge is possible. [1434] And since the wise man—for on this point Arcesilaus agrees with the Stoics—must only consider knowledge, and not opinion, nothing remains for him but to abstain from all and every statement, and to despair of any certain conviction. [1435] It is therefore impossible to know anything, nor can we even know for certain that we do not know anything. [1436] It was quite in accordance with this theory for Arcesilaus to lay down no definite view in his lectures, but only to refute the views of others. [1437] Even his disparaging remarks on dialectic, [1438] supposing them to be genuine, [1439] are not at variance with this conduct. He might consider the arguments of the Stoics and the sophisms of the Megarians as useless, whilst, at the same time, he was convinced that no real knowledge could be attained by any other means. He might even have inferred from their sterility, that thought leads to truth quite as little as the senses. There is no real difference between the result at which he arrived and that of Pyrrho. [1440]

If opponents asserted that by denying knowledge all possibility of action is denied, [1441] Arcesilaus declined to accede to this statement. No firm conviction is, as he maintained, necessary for a decision of the will; for an action to come about a perception influences the will immediately, leaving the question as to its truth entirely out of sight. [1442] In order to act sensibly

[(2) Probability.]

we need no knowledge; for this purpose probability is quite enough; any one can follow probability, even though he is conscious of the uncertainty of all knowledge. Thus probability is the highest standard for practical life. [1443] We are but scantily informed how Arcesilaus applied this principle to the sphere of morals, but a few of his utterances are on record. [1444] All bear witness to the beautiful spirit of moderation in the moral theory of the Academy, which was otherwise exemplified in his own life. [1445]

[B. Carneades.]

Comparing with the theory of Arcesilaus that which was propounded by Carneades a century later, the same leading features are found to be underlying; but the points have been more carefully worked out, and the theory placed on a wider footing. Of the immediate followers of Arcesilaus [1446] it can only be stated that they clung to their teacher. It may be presumed that they did little in the way of expansion, since the ancients are silent as to their labours; Carneades [1447] is only mentioned as the continuer of the Academic Scepticism. The importance of Carneades is therefore very great, whence he is in consequence called the founder of the third or New Academy; [1448] and it is justly great, witness the admiration which his talents called forth among cotemporaries and posterity, [1449] and the flourishing condition in which he left his School. [1450] Himself a pupil of Chrysippus, and resembling him in tone of mind, [1451] Carneades expanded not only the negative side of the Sceptical theory in all directions with an acuteness entitling him to the first place among the ancient Sceptics, but he was also the first to investigate the positive side of Scepticism, the doctrine of probability, and to determine the degrees and conditions of probability. By his labours in both ways he brought the philosophy of Scepticism to its greatest scientific perfection.

[(1) Negative side of his teaching.]

As regards the negative side of these investigations, or the refutation of dogmatism, the attacks of Carneades were directed partly against the formal possibility of knowledge, and partly against the chief actual results of the knowledge of his day. In both respects he had mainly to do with the Stoics, [1452] though he did not confine himself to them.

[(a) Denial of possibility of formal knowledge.]

To prove the impossibility of knowledge in general, he appeals sometimes to experience. There is no kind of conviction which does not sometimes deceive us; consequently there is none which guarantees its own truth. [1453] Going then further into the nature of our notions, he argues, that since notions consist in the change produced on the soul by impressions from without, they must, to be true, not only furnish information as to themselves, but also as to the objects producing them. Now, this is by no means always the case, many notions avowedly giving a false impression of things. Hence the note of truth cannot reside in an impression as such, but only in a true impression. [1454] It is, however, impossible to distinguish with certainty a true impression from one that is false. For independently of dreams, visions, and the fancies of madmen, in short, of all the unfounded chimeras which force themselves on our notice under the guise of truth, [1455] it is still undeniable that many false notions closely resemble true ones. The transition, too, from truth to falsehood is so gradual, the interval between the two is occupied by intermediate links so innumerable, and gradations so slight, that they imperceptibly pass one into the other, and it becomes impossible to draw a boundary line between the two opposite spheres. [1456] Not content with proving this assertion in regard to impressions of the senses, Carneades went on to prove it with regard to general notions based on experience and intellectual conceptions. [1457] He showed that it is impossible for us to distinguish objects so much alike as one egg is to another; that at a certain distance the painted surface seems raised, and a square tower seems round; that an oar in the water seems broken, and the neck-plumage of a pigeon assumes different colours in the sun; that objects on the shore seem to be moving as we sail by, and so forth; [1458] in all these cases the same strength of conviction belongs to the false as to the true impressions. [1459] He showed further that this applies equally to purely intellectual ideas; that many logical difficulties cannot be solved; [1460] that no absolute distinction can be drawn between much and little, in short between all differences in quantity; and that it is the most natural course in all such cases to follow Chrysippus, and to avoid the dangerous inferences which may be drawn by withholding judgment. [1461] Arguing from these facts, Carneades concluded at first in regard to impressions of the senses, that there is no such thing as φαντασία καταληπτικὴ in the Stoic sense of the term, in other words, that no perception contains in itself characteristics, by virtue of which its truth may be inferred with certainty. [1462] This fact being granted, the possibility is in his opinion precluded of there residing in the understanding a standard for the distinction of truth from falsehood. The understanding—and this belief was shared by his opponents—must derive its material from the senses. [1463] Logic tests the formal accuracy of combinations of thought, but gives no insight into their import. [1464] Direct proofs of the uncertainty of intellectual convictions are not therefore needed. The same result may also be attained in a more personal way, by raising the question, how individuals obtain their knowledge. He can only be said to know a thing who has formed an opinion respecting it. In the mean time, until he has decided in favour of some definite opinion, he has still no knowledge. And what dependence can be placed on the judgment of one who has no knowledge? [1465]

[(b) Attack on the scientific knowledge of the time.]

[(α) The physical views of the Stoics attacked.]

In these formal enquiries into the possibility of knowledge, Carneades had chiefly to deal with the Stoics, with whom he holds a common ground in his appeal to the senses. The Stoics were also his chief opponents in his polemic against the material results of the dogmatic philosophy. Natural science having throughout the period of the post-Aristotelian philosophy been subordinated to ethics, ethics likewise engaged more attention at the hands of Carneades than science. [1466] In as far as he studied Natural science, he appears to have been entirely opposed to the Stoic treatment of the subject, and to this circumstance we owe it, that better information is forthcoming regarding his scientific, or rather his theological, investigations than regarding his moral views. The Stoic theories of God and of final causes [1467] afforded ample scope for the exercise of his ingenuity, and from the ground he occupied it was not difficult for him to expose the weak points of that theory. The Stoics had appealed in support of the belief in God to the consensus gentium. How close at hand was the answer, [1468] that the universality of this belief was neither proved to exist, nor as a matter of fact did it exist, but that in no case could the opinion of an ignorant multitude decide anything. The Stoics thought to find a proof of divine providence in the manner in which portents and prophecies come true. To expose this delusion, no very expanded criticism of divination was necessary. [1469] Going beyond this, Carneades proceeded to call in question the cardinal point of the Stoic system—the belief in God, the doctrine of the soul and reason of the universe, and of the presence of design in its arrangements. How, he asks, is the presence of design manifested? Whence all the things which cause destruction and danger to men if it be true that God has made the world for the sake of man? [1470] If reason is praised as the highest gift of God, is it not manifest that the majority of men only use it to make themselves worse than brutes? In bestowing such a gift God must have been taking but little care of this majority. [1471] Even if we attribute to man direct blame for the misuse of reason, still, why has God bestowed on him a reason which can be so much abused? [1472] The Stoics themselves say that a wise man can nowhere be found. They admit, too, that folly is the greatest misfortune. How, then, can they speak of the care bestowed by God on men, when, on their own confession, the whole of mankind is sunk in the deepest misery? [1473] But allowing that the Gods could not bestow virtue and wisdom upon all, they could, at least, have taken care that it should go well with the good. Instead of this, the experience of hundreds of cases shows that the upright man comes to a miserable end; that crime succeeds; and that the criminal can enjoy the fruits of his misdeeds undisturbed. Where, then, is the agency of Providence? [1474] The facts being entirely different from what the Stoics suppose, what becomes of their inferences? Allowing the presence of design in the world, and granting that the world is as beautiful and good as possible, why is it inconceivable that nature should have formed the world according to natural laws without the intervention of God? Admitting, too, the connection of parts in the universe, why should not this connection be the result simply of natural forces, without a soul of the universe or a deity? [1475] Who can pretend to be so intimately acquainted with the powers of nature, as to be able to prove the impossibility of this assumption? Zeno argued that rational things are better than things irrational, that the world is the best possible, and must therefore be rational. Man, says Socrates, can only derive his soul from the world; therefore the world must have a soul. But what, replies the Academician, [1476] is there to show that reason is best for the world, if it be the best for us? or that there must be a soul in nature for nature to produce a soul? What man is not able to produce, that, argues Chrysippus, must have been produced by a higher being—by deity. But to this inference the same objection was raised by the Academicians as to the former one, viz. that it confounds two different points of view. There may, indeed, be a Being higher than man. But why must there needs be a rational man-like Being? Why a God? Why not nature herself? [1477] Nor did the argument seem to an Academician more conclusive, that as every house is destined to be inhabited, so, too, the world must be intended for the habitation of God. To this there was the obvious reply: [1478] If the world were a house, it might be so; but the very point at issue is whether it is a house constructed for a definite purpose, or whether it is simply an undesigned result of natural forces.

[(β) Theological views of the Stoics attacked.]

Not content with attacking the conclusiveness of the arguments upon which the Stoics built their belief in a God, the scepticism of the Academy sought to demonstrate that the idea of God itself is an untenable one. The line of argument which Carneades struck out for this purpose is essentially the same as that used in modern times to deny the personality of God. The ordinary view of God regards Him as an infinite, but, at the same time, as a separate Being, possessing the qualities and living the life of an individual. To this view Carneades objected, on the ground that the first assertion contradicts the second; and argues that it is impossible to apply the characteristics of personal existence to God without limiting His infinite nature. Whatever view we may take of God, we must regard Him as a living Being; and every living being is composite, having parts and passions, and is therefore destructible. [1479] Moreover, every living being has a sense-nature. Far, therefore, from refusing such a nature to God, Carneades attributed to Him, in the interest of omniscience, other organs of sense than the five we possess. Now, everything capable of impressions through the senses is also liable to change, sensation, according to the definition of Chrysippus, being nothing more than a change of soul. Every such being must therefore be capable of pleasure and pain, without which sensation is inconceivable. Whatever is capable of change is liable to destruction; whatever is susceptible to pain is also liable to deterioration, pain being caused by deterioration, and is also liable to destruction. [1480] As the capacity for sensation, so too the desire for what is in harmony with nature, and the dislike of what is opposed to nature, belong to the conditions of life. Whatever has the power of destroying any being is opposed to the nature of that being, everything that lives being exposed to annihilation. [1481] Advancing from the conception of a living being to that of a rational being, all virtues would have to be attributed to God as well as bliss. But how, asks Carneades, can any virtue be ascribed to God? Every virtue supposes an imperfection, in overcoming which it consists. He only is continent who might possibly be incontinent, and persevering who might be indulgent. To be brave, a man must be exposed to danger; to be magnanimous, he must be exposed to misfortunes. A being not feeling attraction for pleasure, nor aversion for pain and difficulties, dangers and misfortunes, would not be capable of virtue. Just as little could we predicate prudence of a being not susceptible of pleasure and pain; prudence consisting in knowing what is good, bad, and morally indifferent. But how can there be any such knowledge where there is no susceptibility to pleasure or pain? Or how can a being be conceived of capable of feeling pleasure, but incapable of feeling pain, since pleasure can only be known by contrast with pain, and the possibility of increasing life always supposes the possibility of lessening it? Nor is it otherwise with intelligence (εὐβουλία). He only is intelligent who always discovers what will subserve his purpose. If, however, he must discover it, it cannot have been previously known to him. Hence intelligence can only belong to a being who is ignorant about much. Such a being can never feel sure that sooner or later something will not cause his ruin. He will therefore be exposed to fear. A being susceptible of pleasure and exposed to pain, a being who has to contend with dangers and difficulties, and who feels pain and fear, must inevitably, so thought Carneades, be finite and destructible. If, therefore, we cannot conceive of God except in this form, we cannot conceive of Him at all, our conception being self-destructive. [1482]

There is yet another reason, according to Carneades, why God cannot have any virtue; because virtue is above its possessor, and there can be nothing above God. [1483] Moreover, what is the position of God in regard to speech? It was easy to show the absurdity of attributing speech to Him, [1484] but to call him speechless (ἄφωνος) seemed also to be opposed to the general belief. [1485] Quite independently, however, of details, the inconceivableness of God appears, so soon as the question is raised, whether the deity is limited or unlimited, material or immaterial. God cannot be unlimited; for what is unlimited is necessarily immovable because it has no place, and soulless because by virtue of its boundlessness it cannot form a whole permeated by a soul; but God we ordinarily think of both as moving and as endowed with a soul. Nor can God be limited; for all that is limited is incomplete. Moreover, God cannot be immaterial, for Carneades, like the Stoics, held that what is immaterial possesses neither soul, feeling, nor activity. Neither can he be material, all composite bodies being liable to change and destruction, and simple bodies, fire, water, and the like, possessing neither life nor reason. [1486] If, then, all the forms under which we think of God are impossible, His existence cannot be asserted.

[(γ) Polytheistic views attacked.]

Easier work lay before the Sceptics in criticising polytheistic views of religion and their defence by the Stoics. Among the arguments employed by Carneades to overthrow them, certain chain-arguments are prominent, by means of which he endeavoured to show that the popular belief has no distinctive marks for the spheres of God and man. If Zeus is a God, he argues, his brother Poseidon must likewise be one, and if he is one, the rivers and streams must also be Gods. If Helios is a God, the appearance of Helios above the earth, or day, must be a God; and, consequently, month, year, morning, midday, evening, must all be Gods. [1487] Polytheism is here refuted by establishing an essential similarity between what is accepted as God and what is avowedly not a God. It may readily be supposed that this was not the only proof of the acuteness of Carneades’ reasoning. [1488]

Divination, to which the Stoics attached especial importance, [1489] was vigorously assailed. Carneades proved that no peculiar range of subjects belonged thereto, but that in all cases which admit professional judgment experts pass a better judgment than diviners. [1490] To know accidental events beforehand is impossible; it is useless to know those that are necessary and unavoidable, nay, more, it would even be harmful. [1491] No causal connection can be conceived of between a prophecy and the ensuing realisation. [1492] If the Stoics met him by pointing to fulfilled prophecies, he replied that the coincidence was accidental, [1493] at the same time declaring many such stories to be without doubt false. [1494]

[(δ) Moral views of the Stoics attacked.]

Connected probably with these attacks on divination was the defence by Carneades of the freedom of the will. The Stoic fatalism he refuted by an appeal to the fact that our decision is free; and since the Stoics appealed in support of their view to the law of causality, he likewise attacked this law. [1495] In so doing his intention was not to assert anything positive respecting the nature of the human will, but only to attack the Stoic assertion, and if for his own part he adhered to the old Academic doctrine of a free will, he still regarded that doctrine as only probable.

Less information exists as to the arguments by which Carneades sought to assail the current principles of morality. Nevertheless, enough is known to indicate the course taken by his Scepticism in relation thereto. In the second of the celebrated speeches which he delivered at Rome in the year 156 B.C., [1496] he denied that there is such a thing as natural right: all laws are only positive civil institutions devised by men for the sake of safety and advantage, and for the protection of the weak; and hence he is regarded as foolish who prefers justice to interest, which after all is the only unconditional end. In support of these statements he appealed to the fact that laws change with circumstances, and are different in different countries. He pointed to the example of great nations, such as the Romans, all of whom attained to greatness by unrighteous means. He impressed into his service the many casuistical questions raised by the Stoics, expressing the opinion that in all these cases it is better to commit the injury which brings advantage—for instance, to murder another to save one’s own life—than to postpone advantage to right, and hence inferred that intelligence is a state of irreconcileable opposition to justice. [1497]

This free criticism of dogmatic views could not fail to bring Carneades to the same result as his predecessors. Knowledge is absolutely impossible. A man of sense will look at everything from all sides and invariably withhold judgment, thus guarding himself against error. [1498] And to this conviction he clings so persistently that he altogether refuses to listen to the objection that the wise man must be at least convinced of the impossibility of any firm conviction. [1499] The earlier Sceptics, far from attributing on this ground an equal value to all notions, had not dispensed with reasons for actions and

[(2) Positive side of the teaching of Carneades.]

[(a) Theory of probabilities.]

thoughts. This point was now taken up by Carneades, who, in attempting to establish the conditions and degrees of probability, hoped to obtain a clue to the kind of conviction which might be still permitted in his system. However much we may despair of knowledge, some stimulus and groundwork for action is needed. Certain things must therefore be assumed, from which the pursuit of happiness must start. [1500] To these so much weight must be attached that they are allowed to decide our conduct, but we must be on our guard against considering them to be true, or to be something really known and conceived. Nor must we forget that even the nature of true ideas is similar to that of false ones, and that the truth of ideas can never be known with certainty. Hence we should withhold all assent, not allowing any ideas to be true, but only to have the appearance of truth (ἀληθῆ φαίνεσθαι) or probability (ἔμφασις, πιθανότης). [1501] In every notion two things need to be considered, the relation to the object represented which makes it either true or false, and the relation to the subject who has the notion, which makes it seem either true or false. The former relation is, for the reasons already quoted, quite beyond the compass of our judgment; the latter, the relation of a notion to ourselves, falls within the sphere of consciousness. [1502] So long as a notion seemingly true is cloudy and indistinct, like an object contemplated from a distance, it makes no great impression on us. When, on the contrary, the appearance of truth is strong, it produces in us a belief [1503] strong enough to determine us to action, although it does not come up to the impregnable certainty of knowledge. [1504]

Belief, however, like probability, is of several degrees. The lowest degree of probability arises when a notion produces by itself an impression of truth, without being taken in connection with other notions. The next higher degree is when that impression is confirmed by the agreement of all notions which are related to it. The third and highest degree is when an investigation of all these notions results in producing the same corroboration for all. In the first case a notion is called probable (πιθανή); in the second probable and undisputed (πιθανὴ καὶ ἀπερίσπαστος); in the third probable, undisputed, and tested (πιθανὴ καὶ ἀπερίσπαστος καὶ περιωδευμένη). [1505] Within each one of these three classes different gradations of probability are again possible. [1506] The distinguishing marks, which must be considered in the investigation of probability, appear to have been investigated by Carneades in the spirit of the Aristotelian logic. [1507] In proportion to the greater or less practical importance of a question, or to the accuracy of investigation which the circumstances allow, we must adhere to one or the other degree of probability. [1508] Although no one of them is of such a nature as to exclude the possibility of error, this circumstance need not deprive us of certainty in respect to actions, provided we have once convinced ourselves that the absolute certainty of our practical premisses is not possible. [1509] Just as little should we hesitate to affirm or deny anything in that conditional way which is alone possible after what has been stated. Assent will be given to no notion in the sense of its being absolutely true, but to many notions in the sense that we consider them highly probable. [1510]

[(b) Moral and religious view of life.]

Among questions about which the greatest possible certainty is felt to be desirable, Carneades, true to his whole position, gave a prominent place to principles of morals; [1511] life and action being the principal things with which the theory of probability has to do. [1512] We hear, therefore, that he thoroughly discussed the fundamental questions of Ethics, the question as to the highest Good. [1513] On this subject he distinguished six, or relatively four, different views. If the primary object of desire can in general only consist of those things which correspond with our nature, and which consequently call our emotions into exercise, the object of desire must be either pleasure, or absence of pain, or conformity with nature. In each of these three cases two opposite results are possible: either the highest Good may consist in the attainment of a purpose, or else in the activity which aims at its attainment. The latter is the view of the Stoics only, and arises from regarding natural activity or virtue as the highest Good. Hence the six possible views are practically reduced to four, which taken by themselves, or else in combination, include all existing views respecting the highest Good. [1514] But so ambiguously did Carneades express himself as to his particular preference of any one view, that even Clitomachus declared he was ignorant as to his real opinion. [1515] It was only tentatively and for the purpose of refuting the Stoics, that he propounded the statement that the highest Good consists in the enjoyment of such things as afford satisfaction to the primary impulses of nature. [1516] Nevertheless, the matter has often been placed in such a light as though Carneades had propounded this statement on his own account; and the statement itself has been quoted to prove that he considered the satisfaction of natural impulses apart from virtue as an end in itself. [1517] It is also asserted that he approximated to the view of Callipho, which does not appear to have been essentially different from that of the older Academy. [1518] The same leaning to the older Academy and its doctrine of moderation appears in other recorded parts of the Ethics of Carneades. The pain caused by misfortune he wished to lessen by thinking beforehand of its possibility; [1519] and after the destruction of Carthage he deliberately asserted before Clitomachus that the wise man would never allow himself to be disturbed, not even by the downfall of his country. [1520]

Putting all these statements together, we obtain a view not unworthy of Carneades, and certainly quite in harmony with his position. That philosopher could not, consistently with his sceptical principles, allow scientific certainty to any of the various opinions respecting the nature and aim of moral action; and in this point he attacked the Stoics with steady home-thrusts. Their inconsistency in calling the choice of what is natural the highest business of morality, and yet not allowing to that which is according to nature a place among goods, [1521] was so trenchantly exposed by him that Antipater is said to have been brought to admit that not the objects to which choice is directed, but the actual choice itself is a good. [1522] He even asserted that the Stoic theory of Goods only differed in words from that of the Peripatetics; to this assertion he was probably led by the fact that the Stoic morality appeals to nature only, or perhaps by the theory therewith connected of things to be desired and things to be eschewed. [1523] If there were any difference between the two, Stoicism, he thought, ignored the real wants of nature. The Stoics, for instance, called a good name a thing indifferent; Carneades, however, drove them so much into a corner because of this statement that they ever after (so Cicero assures us) qualified their assertion, attributing to a good name at least a secondary value among things to be desired (προηγμένα). [1524] Chrysippus, again, thought to find some consolation for the ills of life in the reflection that no man is free from them. Carneades was, however, of opinion that this thought could only afford consolation to a lover of ill; it being rather a matter for sorrow that all should be exposed to so hard a fate. [1525] Believing, too, that man’s happiness does not depend on any theory of ethics, [1526] he could avow without hesitation that all other views of morality do not go beyond probability; and thus the statement of Clitomachus, as far as it refers to a definite decision as to the highest good, is without doubt correct. But just as the denial of knowledge does not, according to the view of Carneades, exclude conviction in general on grounds of probability, no more does it in the province of ethics. Here, then, is the intermediate position which was attributed to him—a position not only suggested by the traditions of the Academic School, but remaining as a last resource to the sceptical destroyer of systems so opposite as Stoicism and the theory of pleasure. The inconsistency of at one time identifying the satisfaction of natural instincts with virtue, and at another time distinguishing it from virtue, which is attributed to Carneades, is an inconsistency for which probably Cicero is alone responsible. The real meaning of Carneades can only be that virtue consists in an activity directed towards the possession of what is according to nature, and hence that it cannot as the highest Good be separated from accordance with nature. [1527] For the same reason, virtue supplies all that is requisite for happiness. [1528] Hence, when it is stated that, notwithstanding his scepticism on moral subjects, Carneades was a thoroughly upright man, [1529] we have not only no reason to doubt this statement as to his personal character, but we can even discern that it was a practical and legitimate consequence of his philosophy. It may appear to us inconsistent to build on a foundation of absolute doubt the certainty of practical conduct; nevertheless, it is an inconsistency deeply rooted in all the scepticism of post-Aristotelian times. That scepticism Carneades brought to completeness, and in logically developing his theory, even its scientific defects came to light.

For the same reason we may also give credit to the statement that Carneades, like the later Sceptics, notwithstanding his severe criticisms on the popular and philosophic theology of his age, never intended to deny the existence of divine agencies. [1530] On this point he acted like a true Sceptic. He expressed doubts as to whether anything could be known about God, but for practical purposes he accepted the belief in God as an opinion more or less probable and useful.

Taking all things into account, the philosophic importance of Carneades and the School of which he was the head cannot be estimated at so low a value as would be the case were the New Academy merely credited with entertaining shallow doubts, and Carneades’ theory of probabilities deduced from rhetorical rather than from philosophical considerations. [1531] For the last assertion there is no ground whatever; Carneades distinctly avowed that a conviction resting on probabilities seemed indispensable for practical needs and actions. On this point he is wholly in accord with all the forms of Scepticism, not only with the New Academy, but also with Pyrrho and the later Sceptics. He differs from them in the degree of accuracy with which he investigates the varieties and conditions of probability; but a question of degree can least of all be urged against a philosopher. Nor should doubts be called shallow which the ancients even in later times could only very inadequately dissipate, and which throw light on several of the deepest problems of life by the critical investigations they occasioned. No doubt, in the despair of attaining to knowledge at all, and in the attempt to reduce everything to opinion more or less certain, indications may be seen of the exhaustion of the intellect, and of the extinction of philosophic originality. Nevertheless it must never be forgotten that the scepticism of the New Academy was not only in harmony with the course naturally taken by Greek philosophy as a whole, but that it was pursued with an acuteness and a scientific vigour leaving no doubt that it was a really important link in the chain of philosophic development.

[C. School of Carneades.]

In Carneades this Scepticism attained its highest growth. The successor of Carneades, Clitomachus, [1532] is known as the literary exponent of the views taught by Carneades. [1533] At the same time we hear of his being accurately acquainted with the teaching of the Peripatetics and Stoics; and although it was no doubt his first aim to refute the dogmatism of these Schools, it would appear that Clitomachus entered into the connection of their doctrines more fully than is usually the case with opponents. [1534] As to his fellow-pupil, Charmidas (or Charmadas), [1535] one wholly unimportant utterance is our only guide for determining his views. [1536] For ascertaining the philosophy of the other pupils of Carneades, [1537] nothing but the scantiest fragments have been preserved. The statement of Polybius that the Academic School degenerated into empty subtleties, and thereby became an object of contempt, [1538] may deserve no great amount of belief; but it does seem probable that the School made no important advance on the path marked out by himself and Arcesilaus. It did not even continue true to that path for very long. Not a generation after the death of its most celebrated teacher, and even among his own pupils, [1539] that eclecticism began to appear, the general and simultaneous spread of which ushered in a new period in the history of the post-Aristotelian philosophy.

NOTES

[1] Zeller’s Philosophie der Griechen. Part I. 96.

[2] Conf. Arist. Metaph. I. 2, 282 b, 19.

[3] For the life of Zeno, Diogenes is the chief authority, who appears to be indebted for his information chiefly to Antigonus of Carystus, who lived about 250 B.C. In proof of this, compare the account of Diogenes with the extracts given by Athenæus (viii. 345, d; xiii. 563, e; 565, d; 603, e; 607, e; and, in particular, ii. 55, f) from Antigonus’ life of Zeno. Of modern authorities, consult Wagenmann, in Pauly’s Realencyclop.

[4] Diog. vii. 1. Suid. Ζήνων. Plut. Plac. i. 3, 29. Pausan. ii. 8, 4. He is called by others Demeas.

[5] Citium, which the ancients unanimously call the native city of Zeno, was, according to Diog. vii. 1, a πόλισμα Ἑλληνικὸν Φοίνικας ἐποίκους ἐσχηκὸς, i.e. Phœnician immigrants had settled there by the side of the old Greek population, whence its inhabitants are sometimes called ‘e Phœnicia profecti’ (Cic. Fin. iv. 20, 56), and Zeno is himself called a Phœnician (Diog. vii. 3; 15; 25; 30; ii. 114. Suid. Ζήν. Athen. xiii. 563, e. Cic. l.c.). A continuous connection between Citium and Phœnicia is implied in Diog. vii. 6; οἱ ἐν Σιδῶνι Κιτιεῖς.

[6] The details are differently given by Diog. 2–5; 31; Plut. Inimic. Util. 2, p. 87; and Sen. Tranq. An. 14, 3. Most accounts say that he came to Athens for trading purposes, and accidentally became acquainted with Crates and philosophy after being shipwrecked. According to other accounts, he remained at Athens, after disposing of his merchandise, and devoted himself to philosophy. Demetrius of Magnesia (Themist. Or. xxiii. 295, D) further relates that he had already occupied himself with philosophy at home, and repaired to Athens to study it more fully—a view which seems most likely, because the least sensational.

[7] The dates in Zeno’s life are very uncertain. He is said to have been thirty when he first came to Athens (Diog. 2). Persæus, however (Ibid. 28), his pupil and countryman, says twenty-two. These statements are of little use, since the date of his coming to Athens is unknown. If it is true that after reading with Crates he was for ten years a pupil of Xenocrates, who died 314 B.C. (Timocrates in Diog. 2), he must have come to Athens not later than 328 B.C. But this fact may be doubted. For his whole line of thought resembles that of Crates and Stilpo. How then can he have been for ten years a pupil in the Academy, and in addition have enjoyed Polemo’s teaching? Altogether he is said to have frequented the schools of different philosophers for twenty years before opening his own (Diog. 4). According to Apollon. in Diog. 28, he presided over his own school for fifty-eight years, which is hardly reconcileable with the above data, even if he attained the age of ninety-eight (Diog. 28; Lucian, Macrob. 19). According to Persæus (Diog. 28), he only attained the age of seventy-two (Clinton, Fast. Hell. II. 368 capriciously suggests 92), and was altogether only fifty years in Athens. On the other hand, in his own letter to Antigonus (Diog. 9), he distinctly calls himself an octogenarian, but the genuineness of this letter, borrowed by Diogenes from Apollonius the Tyrian about 50 B.C., may perhaps be doubted. The year of Zeno’s death is likewise unknown. His relations to Antigonus Gonatas prove at least that he was not dead before the beginning of his reign in 278 B.C., and probably not till long afterwards. It would appear from the calculation of his age, that his death did not take place till 260 B.C. He may, then, have lived circa 350 to 260 B.C.; but these dates are quite uncertain.

[8] Diog. vii. 2; vi. 105.

[9] Diog. 3: ἐντεῦθεν ἤκουσε τοῦ Κράτητος, ἄλλως μὲν εὔτονος πρὸς φιλοσοφίαν, αἰδήμων δὲ ὡς πρὸς τὴν κυνικὴν ἀναισχυντίαν.

[10] Conf., besides what immediately follows, Diog. 25 and 15: ἦν δὲ ζητητικὸς καὶ περὶ πάντων ἀκριβολογούμενος.

[11] Diog. vii. 2; 4; 16; 20; 24; ii. 114; 120. Numen. in Eus. Pr. Ev. xiv. 5, 9; 6, 6. Polemo is called his teacher by Cic. Fin. iv. 16, 45; Acad. i. 9, 35. Strabo, xiii. 1. 67, p. 614. On Xenocrates compare p. 37, 1. How ready he was to learn from others is proved by the saying in Diog. 25; Plut. Fragm. in Hesiod. ix. T. V. 511. W.

[12] Diog. 5, according to whom he gave instruction walking to and fro, like Aristotle, but never to more than two or three at a time (Diog. 14). It is not probable that he gave any formal lectures.

[13] Which, however, must be judged by the standard of that time and of Greek customs. Conf. Diog. 13; and the quotations in Athen. xiii. 607, e; 563, e, from Antigonus of Carystus.

[14] See Musonius in Stob. Serm. 17, 43. His outward circumstances also appear to have been very simple. According to one account (Diog. 13), he brought to Athens the fabulous sum of 1000 talents, and put it out to interest. Themist. Or. xxi., p. 252, says that he forgave a debtor his debt. He is said to have paid a logician 200 drachmas, instead of the 100 which he asked for (Diog. 25). Nor is there any mention of a Cynical life or of poverty. But, according to Diog. 5, Plut. and Sen., he had lost his property almost entirely. According to Sen. Consol. ad Helv. 12, 5 (contradicted by Diog. 23), he owned no slave. Had he been well to do, he would hardly have accepted the presents of Antigonus. That Zeno was unmarried appears from Diog. 13.

[15] Conf. Diog. 13; 16; 24; 26; Athen. in the passage quoted p. 36, 2; Suid.; Clem. Strom. 413, A. It is mentioned as a peculiarity of Zeno, that he avoided all noise and popular display (Diog. 14); that, though generally grave, he relaxed over his wine, and that too much; that he could not tolerate many words, and was very fond of epigrams. See Diog. 16; 20; 24; Athen. l.c. Stob. Serm. 34; 10; 36; 19; 23. He is said to have carried his parsimoniousness too far. In this respect he was a thorough Phœnician (Diog. 16). The presents of Antigonus he never sought, and broke with an acquaintance who asked for his interest with the king. Still he did not despise them, without abating from his dignity. The loss of his property he bore with the greatest composure (Diog. 3; Plut. and Sen.).

[16] Antigonus (conf. Athen. xiii. 603, e; Arrian, Diss. Epict. ii. 13, 14; Simpl. in Epict. Enchir. 283, c; Æl. V. H. ix. 26) was fond of his society, attended his lectures, and wished to have him at court—but Zeno declined the offer, sending two of his pupils instead. The Athenians, to whom, according to Ælian’s untrustworthy account V. H. vii. 14, he had rendered political services, honoured him with a public panegyric, a golden crown, a statue, and burial in the Ceramicus. That the keys of the city were left in his keeping is not probable. The offer of Athenian citizenship he declined (Plut. Sto. Rep. 4, 1, p. 1034). Nor did his countrymen in Citium fail to show their appreciation (Diog. 6; Plin. H. N. xxxiv. 19, 32) of him, and Zeno always insisted on being a Citian (Diog. 12; Plut. l.c.).

[17] He himself (Diog. vii. 18) compares the λόγοι ἀπηρτισμένοι of the ἀσόλοικοι to the elegant Alexandrian coins, which, instead of being better, were often lighter than those of Athens. He is charged in particular with using words in a wrong sense, and with inventing new words, whence Cic. Tusc. v. 11, 34, calls him ‘ignobilis verborum opifex,’ and Chrysippus, in a treatise περὶ τοῦ κυρίως κεχρῆσθαι Ζήνωνα τοῖς ὀνόμασιν, disparages this καινοτομεῖν ἐν τοῖς ὀνόμασι (Galen. Diff. Puls. III. 1., vol. viii. 642, K.). He is also charged with maintaining that nothing ought to be concealed, but that even the most indelicate things should be called by their proper names. He is further charged with having propounded no new system, but with having appropriated the thoughts of his predecessors, and having concealed his plagiarism by the use of new terms. In Diog. vii. 25, Polemo says: κλέπτων τὰ δόγματα Φοινικῶς μεταμφιεννύς; and Cicero frequently repeats the charge (Fin. v. 25, 74; iii. 2, 5; iv. 2, 3; 3, 7; 26; 72; v. 8, 22; 29, 88. Acad. ii. 5, 15. Legg. 1, 13, 38; 20; 53. Tusc. ii. 12, 29).

[18] Diog. 28, 1. The statement that he was ἄνοσος must be taken with some limitation, according to Diog. vii. 162; Stob. Floril. 17, 43.

[19] Diog. 28; 31. Lucian, Macrob. 19. Lactant. Inst. iii. 18. Stob. Floril. 7, 45. Suid.

[20] The list of them in Diog. 4, to which additions are made Diog. 34; 39; 134. The Διατριβαὶ (Diog. 34; Sext. Pyrrh. iii. 205; 245; Math. xi. 90) may perhaps be identical with the Ἀπομνημονεύματα Κράτητος (Diog. 4), the Τέχνη ἐρωτικὴ (Diog. 34) with Τέχνη (Diog. 4). An exposition of Hesiod, which had been inferred to exist, from Cic. N. D. i. 14, 36, Krische, Forsch. 367, rightly identifies with the treatise περὶ τοῦ ὅλου, and this with the treatise περὶ τῆς φύσεως (Stob. Ecl. i. 178). Other authorities are given by Fabric. Bibl. Gr. iii. 580.

[21] This appears at least probable from Diog. 4: ἕως μὲν οὖν τινὸς ἤκουσε τοῦ Κράτητος· ὅτε καὶ τὴν πολιτείαν αὐτοῦ γράψαντος, τινὲς ἔλεγον παίζοντες ἐπὶ τῆς τοῦ κυνὸς οὐρᾶς αὐτὴν γεγραφέναι.

[22] Mohnike, Cleanthes d. Sto.: Greifsw. 1814. Cleanthis Hymn. in Jovem, ed. Sturz, ed. nov. cur. Merzdorf.: Lips. 1835.

[23] Strabo, xiii. 1, 57, p. 610. Diog. vii. 168. Ælian, Hist. Anim. vi. 50. How Clemens, Protrept. 47, A, comes to call him Πισαδεὺς, it is hard to say, nor is it of any moment. Mohnike, p. 67, offers conjectures. Mohnike also rightly maintains, p. 77, that Cleanthes ὁ Ποντικὸς in Diog. ix. 15 must be the same as this Cleanthes, and Cobet strikes out the words ὁ Ποντικὸς after Κλεάνθης.

[24] According to Antisthenes (the Rhodian), in Diog. l.c., Cleanthes was a pugilist, who came to Athens with four drachmæ, and entered the school of Zeno (according to Hesych. v. Suid., that of Crates, which is impossible for chronological reasons. Conversely, Valer. Max. viii. 7, ext. 11, makes him a pupil of Chrysippus, confounding the relations of pupil and teacher, as we have met with elsewhere), in which he studied for nineteen years (Diog. 176), gaining a maintenance by working as a labourer (Diog. 168; 174; Plut. Vit. Ær. Al. 7, 5, p. 830; Sen. Ep. 44, 3; Krische, Forsch.). A public maintenance, which was offered him, Zeno induced him to refuse, and, in other ways, tried his power of will by the severest tests. It is, therefore, all the more improbable that Antigonus gave him 3000 minæ (Diog. 169). On the simplicity of his life, his constant application, his adherence to Zeno, &c., see Diog. 168; 170; 37; Plut. De Audi. 18, p. 47; Cic. Tusc. ii. 25, 60. He also refused to become an Athenian citizen (Plut. Sto. Rep. 4, p. 1034). He died of self-imposed starvation (Diog. 176; Lucian, Macrob. 19; Stob. Floril. 7, 54). His age is stated by Diog. 176, at eighty; by Lucian and Valer. Max. viii. 7, ext. 11, at ninety-nine. Diog. 174, gives a list of his somewhat numerous writings, mostly on moral subjects, which is supplemented by Fabric. Bibl. iii. 551, Harl. and Mohnike, p. 90. Cleanthes was held in great esteem in the Stoic School, even in the time of Chrysippus (Diog. vii. 179; 182; Cic. Acad. ii. 41, 126). At a later time, the Roman Senate erected a statue to him at Assos (Simpl. in Epict. Enchir. c. 53, 329, b).

[25] Aristo, son of Miltiades, a Chian, discussed most fully by Krische, Forsch. 405, known as the Siren, because of his persuasive powers, and also as the Baldhead, was a pupil of Zeno (Diog. 37; 160; Cic. N. D. i. 14, 37; Acad. ii. 42, 130; Sen. Ep. 94, 2), but is said, during Zeno’s illness, to have joined Polemo (Diocl. in Diog. 162). Although it may be objected that his teaching does not diverge in the direction of Platonism, but rather in the opposite direction, still Polemo’s contempt (Diog. iv. 18) for dialectic may at one time have had its attractions for him. It is a better established fact that his attitude towards pleasure was less indifferent than it ought to have been, according to his principles (Eratos and Apollophanes in Athen. vii. 281, c); but the charge of flattery towards his fellow-pupil Persæus appears not to be substantiated (Athen. vi. 251, c). His letters show that he was on intimate terms with Cleanthes (Themist. Or. xxi. p. 255, b). His loquacity is said to have been displeasing to Zeno (Diog. vii. 18). He appeared as a teacher in the Cynosarges, Antisthenes’ old locality (Diog. 161), thus claiming descent from Cynicism. Of his numerous pupils (Diog. 182; Plut. C. Princ. Philos. i. 4. p. 776), two are mentioned by Diogenes, 161; Miltiades and Diphilus. Athenæus names two more: Apollophanes, and the celebrated Alexandrian sage, Eratosthenes, both of whom wrote an ‘Aristo.’ The latter is also named by Strabo, i. 2, 2, p. 15, Suid. Ἐρατοσθ. Apollophanes, whilst adopting Aristo’s views of virtue in Diog. vii. 92, did not otherwise adopt his ethics. His natural science is mentioned by Diog. vii. 140, his psychology by Tertull. De An. 14. Since Eratosthenes was born 276 B.C., Aristo must have been alive in 250 B.C., which agrees with his being called a cotemporary and opponent of Arcesilaus (Strabo, l.c.; Diog. vii. 162; iv. 40, and 33). According to Diog. vii. 164, he died of sunstroke. Not only had his School disappeared in the time of Strabo and Cicero (Cic. Legg. i. 13, 38; Fin. ii. 11, 35; v. 8, 23; Tusc. v. 30, 85; Off. i. 2, 6; Strabo, l.c.), but no traces of it are found beyond the first generation. The writings enumerated by Diog. vii. 163, with the single exception of the letter to Cleanthes, are said to have been attributed by Panætius and Sosicrates to the Peripatetic; but Krische’s remarks, p. 408, particularly after Sauppe’s demurrer (Philodemi de Vit. Lib. X. Weimar, 1853, p. 7), raise a partial doubt as to the accuracy of this statement. The fragments, at least, of Ὁμοιώματα preserved by Stobæus seem to belong to a Stoic. Perhaps from the Ὅμοια come the statements in Sen. Ep. 36, 3; 115, 8; Plut. De Aud. 8, p. 42; De Sanit. 20, p. 133; De Exil. 5, p. 600; Præc. Ger. Reip. 9, 4, p. 804; Aqua an Ign. Util. 12, 2, p. 958.