THE SEMI-SOCRATICS
Upon the death of Socrates there ensued a phenomenon which is not
infrequent in the history of thought. A great and many-sided
personality combines in himself many conflicting tendencies and ideas.
Let us take an example, not, however, from the sphere of intellect,
but from the sphere of practical life. We often say that it is
difficult to reconcile mercy and justice. Among the many small
personalities, one man follows only the ideal of mercy, and as his
mercy has not in it the stern stuff of justice, it degenerates into
mawkishness and sentimental humanitarianism. Another man follows only
the ideal of justice, forgetting mercy, and he becomes harsh and
unsympathetic. It takes a greater man, a larger personality,
harmoniously to combine the two. And as it is in the sphere of
practical life, so it is in the arena of thought and philosophy. A
great thinker is not he who seizes upon a single aspect of the truth,
and pushes that to its extreme limit, but the man who combines, in one
many-sided system, all the varying and conflicting sides of truth. By
emphasizing one thought, by being obsessed by a single idea and
pushing it to its logical conclusion, regardless of the other aspects
of the truth, one may indeed achieve a considerable local and {156}
temporary reputation; because such a procedure often leads to striking
paradoxes, to strange and seemingly uncommon conclusions. The
reputations of such men as Nietzsche, Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, are
made chiefly in this way. But upon the death of a great all-embracing
personality, just because his thought is a combination of so many
divergent truths, we often find that it splits up into its component
parts, each of which gives rise to a one-sided school of thought. The
disciples, being smaller men, are not able to grasp the great man's
thought in its wholeness and many-sidedness. Each disciple seizes upon
that portion of his master's teaching which has most in common with
his own temperament, and proceeds to erect this one incomplete idea
into a philosophy, treating the part as if it were the whole. This is
exactly what happened after the death of Socrates. Only one man among
his disciples was able to grasp the whole of his teaching, and
understand the whole of his personality, and that was Plato. Among the
lesser men who were the followers and personal friends of Socrates,
there were three who founded schools of philosophy, each partial and
one-sided, but each claiming to be the exponent of the true
Socraticism. Antisthenes founded the Cynic school, Aristippus the
Cyrenaic, and Euclid the Megaric.
Now, of the two aspects of the Socratic philosophy, the theory of
concepts, and the ethical theory, it is easy for us, looking back upon
history, to see which it was that influenced the history of thought
most, and which, therefore, was the most important. But the men of his
own time could not see this. What they fastened upon was the obvious
aspect of Socrates, his ethics, and above all the ethical teaching
which was expressed, not so {157} much in abstract ideas, as in the
life and personality of the master. Both this life and this teaching
might be summed up in the thought that virtue is the sole end of life,
that, as against virtue, all else in the world, comfort, riches,
learning, is comparatively worthless. It is this, then, that virtue is
the sole end of life, which forms the point of agreement between all
the three semi-Socratic schools. We have now to see upon what points
they diverge from one another.
If virtue is the sole end of life, what precisely is virtue? Socrates
had given no clear answer to this question. The only definition he had
given was that virtue is knowledge, but upon examination it turns out
that this is not a definition at all. Virtue is knowledge, but
knowledge of what? It is not knowledge of astronomy, of mathematics,
or of physics. It is ethical knowledge, that is to say, knowledge of
virtue. To define virtue as the knowledge of virtue is to think in a
circle, and gets us no further in the enquiry what virtue is. But
Socrates, as a matter of fact, did not think in a circle. He did not
mean that virtue is knowledge, although his doctrine is often,
somewhat misleadingly, stated in that form. What he meant was--quite a
different thing--that virtue _depends upon_ knowledge. It is the first
condition of virtue. The principle, accurately stated, is, not that
virtue is the knowledge of virtue, which is thinking in a circle, but
that virtue depends upon the knowledge of virtue, which is quite
straight thinking. Only if you know what virtue is can you be
virtuous. Hence we have not here any definition of virtue, or any
attempt to define it. We are still left with the question, "what is
virtue?" unanswered.
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No doubt this was due in part to the unmethodical and unsystematic
manner in which Socrates developed his thought, and this, in its turn,
was due to his conversational style of philosophizing. For it is not
possible to develop systematic thinking in the course of casual
conversations. But in part, too, it was due to the very universality
of the man's genius. He was broad enough to realize that it is not
possible to tie down virtue in any single narrow formula, which shall
serve as a practical receipt for action in all the infinitely various
circumstances of life. So that, in spite of the fact that his whole
principle lay in the method of definitions, Socrates, in fact, left
his followers without any definition of the supreme concept of his
philosophy, virtue. It was upon this point, therefore, that the
followers of Socrates disagreed. They all agreed that virtue is the
sole end of life, but they developed different ideas as to what sort
of life is in fact virtuous.
The Cynics.
Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynic School, repeated the familiar
propositions that virtue is founded upon knowledge, is teachable, and
is one. But what aroused the admiration of Antisthenes was not
Socrates, the man of intellect, the man of science, the philosopher,
but Socrates, the man of independent character, who followed his own
notions of right with complete indifference to the opinions of others.
This independence was in fact merely a by-product of the Socratic
life. Socrates had been independent of all earthly goods and
possessions, caring neither for riches nor for applause, only because
his heart was set upon a greater treasure, the acquisition of wisdom.
Mere independence and indifference to the {159} opinions of others
were not for him ends in themselves. He did not make fetishes of them.
But the Cynics interpreted his teaching to mean that the independence
of earthly pleasures and possessions is in itself the end and object
of life. This, in fact, was their definition of virtue, complete
renunciation of everything that, for ordinary men, makes life worth
living, absolute asceticism, and rigorous self-mortification.
Socrates, again, thinking that the only knowledge of supreme value is
ethical knowledge, had exhibited a tendency to disparage other kinds
of knowledge. This trait the Cynics exaggerated into a contempt for
all art and learning so great as frequently to amount to ignorance and
boorishness. "Virtue is sufficient for happiness," said Antisthenes,
"and for virtue nothing is requisite but the strength of a Socrates;
it is a matter of action, and does not require many words, or much
learning." The Cynic ideal of virtue is thus purely negative; it is
the absence of all desire, freedom from all wants, complete
independence of all possessions. Many of them refused to own houses or
any dwelling place, and wandered about as vagrants and beggars.
Diogenes, for the same reason, lived in a tub. Socrates, following
single-heartedly what he knew to be good, cared nothing what the
vulgar said. But this indifference to the opinion of others was, like
his independence of possessions, not an end in itself. He did not
interpret it to mean that he was wantonly to offend public opinion.
But the Cynics, to show their indifference, flouted public opinion,
and gave frequent and disgusting exhibitions of indecency.
Virtue, for the Cynics, is alone good. Vice is the only evil. Nothing
else in the world is either good or bad. {160} Everything else is
"indifferent." Property, pleasure, wealth, freedom, comfort, even life
itself, are not to be regarded as goods. Poverty, misery, illness,
slavery, and death itself, are not to be regarded as evils. It is no
better to be a freeman than a slave, for if the slave have virtue, he
is in himself free, and a born ruler. Suicide is not a crime, and a
man may destroy his life, not however to escape from misery and pain
(for these are not ills), but to show that for him life is
indifferent. And as the line between virtue and vice is absolutely
definite, so is the distinction between the wise man and the fool. All
men are divided into these two classes. There is no middle term
between them. Virtue being one and indivisible, either a man possesses
it whole or does not possess it at all. In the former case he is a
wise man, in the latter case a fool. The wise man possesses all
virtue, all knowledge, all wisdom, all happiness, all perfection. The
fool possesses all evil, all misery, all imperfection.
The Cyrenaics.
For the Cyrenaics, too, virtue is, at least formally, the sole object
of life. It is only formally, however, because they give to virtue a
definition which robbed it of all meaning. Socrates had not
infrequently recommended virtue on account of the advantages which it
brings. Virtue, he said, is the sole path to happiness, and he had not
refrained from holding out happiness as a motive for virtue. This did
not mean, however, that he did not recognize a man's duty to do the
right for its own sake, and not for the sake of the advantage it
brings. "Honesty," we say, "is the best policy," {161} but we do not
mean thereby to deny that it is the duty of men to be honest even if
it is not, in some particular case, the best policy. Socrates,
however, had not been very clear upon these points, and had been
unable to find any definite basis for morality, other than that of
happiness. It was this side of his teaching which Aristippus now
pressed to its logical conclusions, regardless of all other claims.
Doubtless virtue is the sole end of life, but the sole end of virtue
is one's own advantage, that is to say, pleasure. One may as well say
at once that the sole end of life is pleasure.
The influence of Protagoras and the Sophists also played its part in
moulding the thought of Aristippus. Protagoras had denied the
objectivity of truth, and the later Sophists had applied the same
theory to morals. Each man is a law unto himself. There is no moral
code binding upon the individual against his own wishes. Aristippus
combined this with his doctrine of pleasure. Pleasure being the sole
end of life, no moral law externally imposed can invalidate its
absolute claims. Nothing is wicked, nothing evil, provided only it
satisfies the individual's thirst for pleasure.
Whether such a philosophy will lead, in practice, to the complete
degradation of its devotees, depends chiefly upon what sort of
pleasure they have in mind. If refined and intellectual pleasures are
meant, there is no reason why a comparatively good life should not
result. If bodily pleasures are intended, the results are not likely
to be noble. The Cyrenaics by no means wholly ignored the pleasures of
the mind, but they pointed out that feelings of bodily pleasure are
more potent and intense, and it was upon these, therefore, that they
chiefly {162} concentrated their attention. Nevertheless they were
saved from the lowest abysses of sensuality and bestiality by their
doctrine that, in the pursuit of pleasure, the wise man must exercise
prudence. Completely unrestrained pursuit of pleasure leads in fact to
pain and disaster. Pain is that which has to be avoided. Therefore the
wise man will remain always master of himself, will control his
desires, and postpone a more urgent to a less urgent desire, if
thereby in the end more pleasure and less pain will accrue to him. The
Cyrenaic ideal of the wise man is the man of the world, bent indeed
solely upon pleasure, restrained by no superstitious scruples, yet
pursuing his end with prudence, foresight, and intelligence. Such
principles would, of course, admit of various interpretations,
according to the temperament of the individual. We may notice two
examples. Anniceris, the Cyrenaic, believed indeed that pleasure is
the sole end, but set such store upon the pleasures that arise from
friendship and family affection, that he admitted that the wise man
should be ready to sacrifice himself for his friends or family--a
gleam of light in the moral darkness. Hegesias, a pessimist,
considered that positive enjoyment is impossible of attainment. In
practice the sole end of life which can be realized is the avoidance
of pain.
The Megarics.
Euclid of Megara was the founder of this school. His principle was a
combination of Socraticism with Eleaticism. Virtue is knowledge, but
knowledge of what? It is here that the Eleatic influence became
visible. With Parmenides, the Megarics believed in the One Absolute
Being. All multiplicity, all motion, are illusory. {163} the world of
sense has in it no true reality. Only Being is. If virtue is
knowledge, therefore, it can only be the knowledge of this Being. If
the essential concept of Socrates was the Good and the essential
concept of Parmenides Being, Euclid now combined the two. The Good is
identified with Being. Being, the One, God, the Good, divinity, are
merely different names for one and the same thing. Becoming, the many,
Evil, are the names of its opposite, not-being, Multiplicity is thus
identified with evil, and both are declared illusory. Evil has no real
existence. The Good alone truly is. The various virtues, as
benevolence, temperance, prudence, are merely different names for the
one virtue, knowledge of Being.
Zeno, the Eleatic, had shown that multiplicity and motion are not only
unreal but even impossible, since they are self-contradictory. The
Megarics appropriated this idea, together with the dialectic of Zeno,
and concluded that since not-being is impossible, Being includes all
possibility. Whatever is possible is also actual. There is no such
thing as a possible something, which yet does not exist.
As the Cynics found virtue in renunciation and negative independence,
the Cyrenaics in the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure, so the Megarics
find it in the life of philosophic contemplation, the knowledge of
Being.
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