ungenerable, and perishable or imperishable; noticing what others
have said on the subject before. All of them consider the Kosmos to
be generated: but some think it (although generated) to be eternal;
others look upon it as perishable, like other natural compounds;
others again--Empedokles and Herakleitus--declare it to be generated
and destroyed in perpetual alternation. Now to affirm that it is
generated and yet that it is eternal, is an impossibility: we cannot
reasonably affirm any thing, except what we see to happen with all
things or with most things; and, in the case before us, what happens
is the very reverse of the foregoing affirmation, for all things
generated are seen to be destroyed. Again that which has no beginning
of being as it is now--that which cannot possibly have been otherwise
previously throughout the whole Æon--can never by any possibility
change; for, if it could ever change, there must exist some cause,
which, if it had existed before, would have compelled what is assumed
to be incapable of being otherwise, to be otherwise. To those who say
that the Kosmos has come together from materials previously existing
in another condition, we may reply**: If these materials were always
in this prior condition and incapable of any other, the Kosmos would
never have been generated at all; and, if it _has_ been generated, we
may be sure that the antecedent materials must have been capable of
coming into another condition, and were not under a necessity to
remain always in the same condition; so that aggregations once
existing were dissolved, and disgregations brought into combination,
many times over before the present Kosmos; at least they possibly may
have been so: and this is enough to prove that the Kosmos is not
indestructible (ss. 1-3).
Among those who maintain the Kosmos to have been generated yet to be
indestructible, there are some who defend themselves in the following
manner. They tell us that the generation of which they speak is not
meant to be affirmed as a real past fact, but is a mere explanatory
or illustrative fiction, like the generation of a geometrical figure,
introduced to facilitate the understanding by pupils. But such an
analogy cannot be admitted. For in geometry the conclusions are just
the same, if we suppose all the figures existing simultaneously; but
it is not so with the demonstrations which they tender about the
generation of the Cosmos, where the antecedent condition and the
consequent condition are the reverse of each other. Out of disorder
(they tell us) things came into order: these two conditions cannot be
simultaneous; generation must be a real fact, and distinction of time
comparing the one condition with the other; whereas in geometrical
figures no distinction of time is required (ss. 4-6).
To assume alternate generation and dissolution, over and over again,
is in fact to represent the Kosmos as eternal, but as changing its
form; as if you should suppose the same person to pass from boyhood
to manhood and then back again from manhood to boyhood--calling that
by the name of generation and destruction. For, if the elements come
together, the aggregation resulting will not be accidental and
variable but always the same, especially upon the assumptions of
these philosophers. So that, if the whole Kosmos, remaining
continuous, is sometimes arranged in one way, sometimes in another,
it is these arrangements which are generated and destroyed, not the
Kosmos itself (ss. 7, 8).
Total generation, and total destruction without any renovation, of
Kosmos might be possible, if there were an infinity of Kosmi, but
cannot be possible with only one; for anterior to the moment of
generation there existed the antecedent condition, which, never
having been generated, could not be destroyed (s. 9).
There are some who think (with Plato in Timæus) that the
non-generable may yet be destroyed, and that the generated may be
indestructible. We have combated this opinion on physical grounds,
respecting the Heaven specially. We shall now treat the subject upon
universal reasonings (_i.e._, belonging to Logic or
Metaphysics--[Greek: pro\s ou(\s phusikô=s me\n peri\ tou= ou)ra/nou
mo/non ei)/rêtai; katho/lou de\ peri\ a(/pantos skepsame/nois,
e)/stai kai\ peri\ tou/tou dê=lon]--s. 10).
CH. 11.--In this reasoning, the first step is to point out that
Generable and Non-Generable, Destructible or Indestructible, are
words used in many different senses, which must be discriminated
([Greek: pollachô=s lego/mena]). If a man uses these words in an
affirmative proposition without such discrimination, his affirmation
is indeterminate; you cannot tell in which of their many different
senses he intends to affirm. Non-Generable means: (1) That which now
is, having previously not been, even though without either generation
or change, as, to touch or to be moved; for, according to some
persons, touching or being moved are not cases of generation; you
cannot become touching, or become moved; you are moved, or you are
not moved; you touch, or you do not touch ([Greek: ou) ga\r ei)=nai
gi/nesthai/ phasin a(pto/menon, ou)de\ kinou/menon.] He means, I
presume, that to touch, and to be moved, are instantaneous acts,
though how they can be said to occur [Greek: a)/neu metabolê=s], I
do not see.). It means: (2) That which, though capable of coming to
pass or of having come to pass ([Greek: e)ndecho/menon gi/nesthai
ê)\ gene/sthai]), nevertheless is not; for this too is
non-generable, since it might have come to be. Again, it means:
(3) That which cannot by possibility sometimes exist, sometimes not
exist. Impossible has two meanings: (1) That of which you cannot
truly say that it might be generated ([Greek: o(/ti ge/noit' a)/n]);
(2) That which cannot be generated easily, or quickly, or well
([Greek: kalô=s]). So also the Generable ([Greek: to\ gennêto/n])
means: (1) That which, not existing previously, afterwards exists
at one time and not at another, whether generated or not (he seems
here to point to [Greek: to\ a(/ptesthai] or [Greek: to\
kinei=sthai]); (2) The possible, whether it be the strictly possible,
or the easily possible; (3) That of which there is generation out of
the nonexistent into existence, whether it now does actually exist,
or may exist hereafter. The Destructible and Indestructible ([Greek:
phtharto\n kai\ a)/phtharton]) have similar differences of meaning
(ss. 1-6).
If we say that a man can raise a weight of 100 pounds, or march 100
stadia, we speak always with reference to a certain extreme, meaning
to imply that he can also raise a weight of 50, 40, 30 pounds, and
that he can also walk 50, 40, 30 stadia. If we say that he cannot
raise a weight of 100 pounds, we mean to imply, _à fortiori_, that he
cannot raise a weight of 110 pounds. In regard to sight and hearing,
the case is opposite; he who can see a small object, can certainly
see a large one; he who can hear a faint sound, can certainly hear a
loud one. But he who can see a large object, is not necessarily able
to see a small one; he who can hear a loud sound, is not necessarily
able to hear a faint one. In sight and hearing, superior power is
indicated by the less including the greater; in motion, by the
greater including the less (ss. 7-8).
CH. 12.--If there are some things capable both of existence and of
nonexistence, we must define on which falls the major portion of
time; for, if we cannot in either case define the time, and can only
say that it is greater than any assumed length of time and never less
than any assumed length,--the same thing will be capable both of
existence and of non-existence for an infinite time; which is an
impossibility. We must take our departure from this principle:
Impossibility is one thing, Falsehood another. Both the impossible
and the false are, however, either conditional (as when it is said to
be impossible that the triangle should have its three angles equal to
two right angles, if such and such things are granted, and that the
diameter should be commensurate with the periphery, if such and such
positions were true), or absolute. But there are matters absolutely
false, which are not absolutely impossible. When you are standing, I
affirm that you are sitting: this is absolutely false, but not
absolutely impossible. On the other hand, if I affirm that you are at
the same time sitting and standing, or that the diameter is
commensurable with the periphery, the proposition is not merely
absolutely false, but absolutely impossible. An assumption simply
false is not the same thing as an assumption absolutely impossible:
from an impossible assumption there follow other impossibilities. The
power of sitting or standing means that you can do either one at any
given time--one at one time, the other at another; but not that you
can do both at the same time. But, if any thing has throughout an
infinite time the power of doing more things than one, it must have
the power of doing more things than one at the same time; for this
infinite time comprehends its whole existence. Accordingly, if any
thing existing for an infinite time is nevertheless destructible,
this means that it has the possibility not to exist. This being a
possibility, let us imagine it realized: then the thing in question
will both exist actually for an infinite time and yet not exist;
which is a consequence not only false, but impossible, and thus
proves the premiss assumed to be impossible (_i.e._, that a thing
existing for an infinite time is nevertheless destructible). We thus
see that what exists always is absolutely indestructible (ss. 1-3).
It is also ungenerable; for, if generable, there will be a
possibility that at some time or other it did not exist. That is
generable, which may possibly have not existed at some anterior time,
finite or infinite: so that, if [Greek: to\ a)ei\ o)/n] cannot
possibly not exist, it cannot be generable. Now that which is always
possible to exist, has, for its correlate negative ([Greek:
a)po/phasis]), that which is not always possible to exist; and that
which is always possible not to exist, has, for its contrary, that
which is not always possible not to exist. These two negatives must
of necessity be true of the same subject: there must be something of
which we may truly say--It has no possibility always to exist--It has
no possibility always not to exist. This therefore is something
intermediate between that which always exists, and that which always
exists not, viz., That which may exist and may not exist ([Greek:
kai\ ei)=nai me/son tou= a)ei\ o)/ntos kai\ tou= a)ei\ mê\ o)/ntos,
to\ duna/menon ei)=nai kai\ mê\ ei)=nai]); for both the negative
predicates will find application, if it do not exist always. The
possible to exist, and the possible not to exist, must therefore be
the same thing--a mean between the two above-mentioned extremes (ss.
4, 5).
After a long metaphysical deduction, occupying from sections 6 to 17,
Aristotle proceeds as follows.
We may also discern in the following manner that nothing which has
been once generated, can continue indestructible; nothing which is
ungenerable and which always existed heretofore, can ever be
destroyed. For it is impossible that any thing which arises
spontaneously ([Greek: a)po\ tou= au)toma/tou]) can be either
indestructible or ungenerable. The Spontaneous, and the Casual
([Greek: to\ a)po\ tê=s tu/chês]), are in antithesis to the always
or the most frequently Ens or Fiens ([Greek: para\ to\ a)ei\ kai\ to\
ô(s e)pi\ to\ polu\ ê)\ o)\n ê)\ gino/menon]--s. 18); but that
which has existed for an infinite or a very long tine, must belong to
this last category. Accordingly, such things must by nature sometimes
exist, sometimes not exist. In them, both sides of the contradiction
are alike true, owing to the matter of which they are composed: they
exist, and they do not exist. But you cannot say with truth now that
the thing exists last year; nor could you say last year that it
exists now. Having once been non-existent, it cannot be eternal for
future time; for it will still possess in future time the possibility
of non-existence, yet not the power of non-existing at the moment
when it does exist, nor with reference to last year and to past time;
there being no power bearing upon past time, but only on present and
future time. (Sections 21 and 22 are hardly intelligible to me.)
On physical grounds also it appears impossible that what is eternal
in the past should be destroyed afterwards, or that what did not
exist at some former time should afterwards be eternal. Those things
which are destructible, are all of them generable and changeable
([Greek: gennêta\ kai\ a)lloiôta\ pa/nta]). Those things which
exist by nature, are changed by their opposites and by their
component materials, and are destroyed by the same agencies (s. 23).
. . . . . .
Book II.
CH. 1.--The Heaven has not been generated nor can it be destroyed, as
some (Plato) affirm: it is one and eternal, having neither beginning
nor end of the whole Æon, holding and comprehending in itself
infinite time. This we may believe not merely from the foregoing
reasonings, but also from the opinion of opponents who suppose the
Cosmos to be generated. For, since their opinion has been shown to be
inadmissible, and our doctrine is at least admissible, even thus much
will have great force to determine our faith in the immortality and
eternity of the Heaven. Hence we shall do well to assist in
persuading ourselves that the ancient doctrines, and especially those
of our own country, are true--That there is among the substances
endowed with motion one immortal and divine, whose motion is such
that it has itself no limit but is rather itself the limit of all
other motions, limit being the attribute of the circumscribing
substance. The circular motion of the Heaven, being itself perfect,
circumscribes and comprehends all the imperfect motions which are
subject to limit and cessation. It has itself neither beginning nor
end, but is unceasing throughout infinite time: in regard to other
motions, it is the initiatory cause to some, while it is the
recipient of the cessation of others (ss. 1, 2).
The ancients assigned Heaven to the Gods, as the only place which was
immortal, and our reasonings show that it is not merely
indestructible and ungenerable, but also unsusceptible of all mortal
defect or discomfort. Moreover it feels no fatigue, because it is not
constrained by any extraneous force to revolve contrary to its own
nature: if it were so, that would be tiresome, and all the more since
the motion is eternal; it would be inconsistent with any supremely
good condition. The ancients therefore were mistaken in saying that
the Heaven required to be supported by a person named Atlas: the
authors of this fable proceeded upon the same supposition as recent
philosophers; regarding the celestial body as heavy and earthy, they
placed under it, in mythical guise, an animated necessity ([Greek:
a)na/gkên e)/mpsuchon]), or constraint arising from vital force. But
they are wrong; and so is Empedokles, when he says that the Heaven is
kept permanently in its place by extreme velocity of rotation, which
counteracts its natural inclination downwards ([Greek: oi)kei/as
r(opê=s]). Nor can we reasonably suppose that it is kept eternally
in its place (_i.e._, contrary to its own nature) by the compulsion
of a soul or vital force ([Greek: u(po\ psuchê=s a)nagkazou/sês]):
it is impossible that the life of a soul thus acting can be painless
or happy. The motion which it causes, being accompanied with violence
and being also perpetual (as it is the nature of the First Body to
cause motion continuously throughout the Kosmos), must be a tiresome
duty, unrelieved by any reasonable relaxation; since this soul enjoys
no repose, such as the letting down of the body during sleep affords
to the soul of mortal animals, but is subjected to a fate like
Ixion's--ceaseless and unyielding revolution. Now our reasonings, if
admissible, respecting the First or Circular Motion ([Greek:
prô/tês phora=s]) afford not merely more harmonious conceptions
respecting its eternity, but also the only way of speaking in
language which will be allowed as consistent with the vague
impressions respecting the Deity ([Greek: tê=| mantei/a| tê=| peri\
to\n theo/n]). Enough, however, of this talk for the present
(ss. 3-6).
CH. 2.--Since the Pythagoreans and others recognize a Right and Left
in the Heaven, let us enquire whether such [Greek: a)rchai/] can
properly be ascribed to the body of the Universe; for, if these can
be ascribed, much more may the other [Greek: a)rchai/] prior to them
be ascribed to it. Of [Greek: a)rchai/ kinê/seôs] (_termini a
quibus_), there are three couples: (1) Upwards and Downwards;
(2) Forward and Backward; (3) Right and Left. All the three exist in
animals; but the first alone is found in plants. All the three are in
all perfect bodies, and in all animated bodies which have in
themselves a beginning of motion; but not in inanimate bodies, which
have not in themselves a beginning. Each of these three [Greek:
a)rchai/] or [Greek: diasta/seis] is true and appropriate as an
attribute; but among the three, Upwards and Downwards comes first in
the order of nature, Right and Left, last. The Pythagoreans are to be
blamed for dwelling on Right and Left, and not noticing the other two
pairs which are prior in the order of nature and more appropriate,
and for supposing that Right and Left are to be found in every thing.
Upward is the principle of length; Right, of breadth; Forward, of
depth. Again, from upward movement comes growth; movement from the
right is local movement; movement from before is movement of sense
([Greek: ê( kata\ tê\n ai)/sthêsin]), or the line in which
sensible impressions are propagated ([Greek: e)ph' ô(=|
ai)sthê/seis]). Up is the source from whence motion originates
([Greek: to\ o(/then ê( ki/nêsis]--s. 6); Right, the point from
which the direction of the motion starts; Forward, the point towards
which it goes ([Greek: to\ e)ph' o(/]). In inanimate bodies (which
are either not moved at all, or only moved in one manner and
direction, as fire only upwards, earth only downwards), we speak of
above and below, right and left, only with reference to ourselves,
and not as attributes really belonging to these objects; for by
inverting the objects these attributes will be inverted also, right
will become left, and left will become right. But in animated
objects, which have in themselves an [Greek: a)rchê\ kinê/seôs], a
real right and left, a real upward and downward, are to be
recognized: of course therefore in the Heaven, which is an animated
object of this character ([Greek: e)/mpsuchos]). For we must not make
any difficulty in consequence of the spherical figure of the
universe, or suppose that such a figure excludes real right and left,
the parts being all alike and all in perpetual motion. We must
conceive the case as like that of a person having a real right and
left, distinct in attributes, but who has been enclosed in a hollow
sphere: he will still have the real distinct right and left, yet to a
spectator outside he will appear not to have it. In like manner, we
must speak of the Heaven as having a beginning of motion; for, though
its motion never did begin, yet there must be some point from which
it would have taken its departure, if it ever had begun, and from
which it would recommence, if it ever came to a standstill. I call
the length of the Heaven, the distance between the poles--one of the
poles above, the other below. Now the pole which is above us, is the
lower pole; that which is invisible to us, is the upper pole. For
that is called right, in each object, from whence local movement
takes its departure, or where local movement begins. But the
revolution of the Heaven begins on the side where the stars rise;
this, therefore, is the true right, and the side on which they set,
is left. If, therefore, it begins from the right, and revolves round
to the right ([Greek: e)pi\ ta\ de/xia periphe/retai]), the invisible
pole must be the upper pole; for, if the visible pole were the upper,
the movement of the Heaven would be to the left, which we deny to be
the fact. The invisible pole is therefore the upper, and those who
live near it are in the upper hemisphere, and to the right ([Greek:
pro\s toi=s dexi/ois]); we on the contrary are in the lower
hemisphere, and to the left. The Pythagoreans are in error when they
say that we are in the upper hemisphere, and to the right, and that
inhabitants of the southern hemisphere are in the lower hemisphere
and to the left. But, speaking with reference to the second
revolution ([Greek: tê=s deute/ras periphora=s]) or that of the
planets, which is in the contrary direction to the first revolution
or that of the First Heaven, it is we who are in the upper hemisphere
and on the right side; it is the inhabitants of the southern
hemisphere, who are in the lower hemisphere and on the left side:
that is, it is we who are on the side of the beginning of motion,
they who are on the side of the end (ss. 1-10).
CH. 3.--I have previously laid it down, that circular movement is not
opposite to circular. But, if this be the case, what is the reason
that there are many different revolutions in the Heaven? This is what
I shall now enquire, fully aware of the great distance from which the
enquiry must be conducted ([Greek: po/r)r(ôthen])--not so much a
distance in place, as owing to the small number of accompanying facts
which can be observed by the senses respecting them.
The cause must be looked for in this direction. Every thing which
performs a work, exists for the sake of that work. Now the work of
Deity is immortality, or eternal life; so that the divine substance
must of necessity be in eternal motion. The Heaven is a divine body
and has for that reason the encyclical body, whose nature it is to be
moved for ever in a circle. But why is not the whole body of the
Heaven thus constituted (_i.e._, encyclical)? Because it is necessary
that some portion of its body should remain stationary in the centre;
and no portion of the encyclical body can possibly remain stationary,
either in the centre or elsewhere. For, if it could, its natural
motion (_i.e._, the motion of that supposed portion) would be towards
the centre; whereas its natural motion is circular; and it cannot
move towards the centre contrary to its nature, because on that
supposition its motion would not be eternal: no motion contrary to
nature can be eternal. Moreover that which is contrary to nature is
posterior to that which is natural; it is a deviation therefrom
arising in the course of generation (s. 1).
Hence it is necessary that earth should exist, the nature of which it
is to rest in the centre (_i.e._, the divine encyclical body will not
suffice alone, without adjuncts of different nature). I assume this
for the present; more will be said about it anon.
But, if earth exists, fire must exist also; for of two contraries, if
the one exist by nature, the other must exist by nature also. For the
matter of contraries is the same, and Form (positive and affirmable)
is prior by nature to Privation (for example, hot is prior to cold);
now rest and gravity denote the privation of motion and lightness (s.
2--_i.e._, fire is prior in nature to earth, as having the positive
essences motion and levity, while earth has for its essence the
privation thereof).
Again, if fire and earth exist, the two other elements intermediate
between them must also exist; for each of the four elements has its
peculiar mode of contrariety with reference to each. At least let
this be assumed now: I shall show it at length presently.
Now, these points being established, we see that generation must
necessarily come to pass, because no one of the four elements can be
eternal: they act upon each other, and suffer from each other, with
contrary effects; they are destructive of each other. Besides, each
of them has a mode of motion natural and appropriate to it, but this
mode of motion is not eternal (because it is either to the centre or
to the circumference and therefore has a natural terminus). It is not
reasonable to suppose that any Mobile can be eternal, whose natural
mode of motion cannot be eternal (s. 3).
Thus the four elements are not eternal, but require to be renewed by
generation; therefore generation must come to pass. But, if
generation be necessary, more than one revolution of the celestial
body is indispensably required: two at least, if not more. For, if
there were no other revolution except that of the First Heaven, that
is consistent only with a perfectly uniform condition of the four
elements in relation to each other (s. 4).
When the question is asked, therefore, Why there are (not one only
but) several encyclical bodies? I answer: Because generation _must_
come to pass. There must be generation, if there be fire; there must
be fire and the other elements, if there be earth; there must be
earth, because something must remain stationary eternally in the
centre, if there is to be eternal revolution (s. 5).
CH. 4.--The Heaven is by necessity spherical: this figure is at once
both most akin to its essence and first in its own nature. I shall
begin with some observations respecting figures generally--plane and
solid, as to which among them is the first. Every plane figure is
either rectilinear or curvilinear; the former is comprehended by many
lines, the latter only by one. Now, since in every department one is
prior to many and simple to compound, the first of all plane figures
must be the circle. Moreover, since that is perfect which can receive
nothing additional from without, and since addition can be made to
every straight line, but none whatever to the line circumscribing a
circle, it is plain that this latter is perfect; and therefore the
circle is the first of all plane figures, and the sphere of all solid
figures (ss. 1, 2). This doctrine appears most reasonable when we set
out the different figures, each with a number belonging to it in
numerical order. The circle corresponds to One, the triangle to Two,
since its three angles are equal to two right angles; whereas, if we
assign number One to the triangle and place that first, we can find
no number fit for the circle: the circle will be no longer recognized
as a figure (s. 4).
Now, since the first figure belongs to the first body, which is that
in the extreme or farthest circumference, this body which revolves
constantly in a circle, will be spherical in figure. That which is
continuous with it even to the centre, will also be spherical; and
all the interior parts are in contact and continuity with it: the
parts below the sphere of the planets touch the sphere above them. So
that the whole revolving current, interior and exterior, will be
spherical; for all things touch and are continuous with the spheres
(s. 5).
There is another reason too why the universe is spherical in figure,
since it has been shown to revolve in a circle. I have proved before
that there exists nothing on the outside of the universe; neither
place nor vacuum. If the figure of the Kosmos, revolving as it does
in a circle, were any thing else but spherical--if it were either
rectilinear or elliptical--it could not possibly cover exactly the
same space during all its revolutions: there must therefore be place
and vacuum without it; which has been shown to be impossible (s. 6).
Farthermore, the rotation of the Heaven is the measure of motions,
because it is the only one continuous and uniform and eternal. Now in
every department the measure is the least, and the least motion is
the quickest; accordingly the rotation of the Heaven will be the
quickest of all motions (s. 7). But among all curved lines from the
same back to the same, the circumference of the circle is the
shortest, and motion will be quickest over the shortest distance.
Accordingly, since the Heaven revolves in a circle and with the
quickest of all motions, its figure must be spherical (s. 8).
We may also draw the same conclusion from the bodies fixed in the
central parts of the Kosmos. The Earth in the centre is surrounded by
water; the water, by air; the air, by fire. The uppermost bodies
surround the fire, following the like proportion or analogy; being
not continuous therewith, but in contact therewith. Now the surface
of water is spherical; and that which is either continuous with the
spherical or surrounds the spherical, must itself be spherical also
(s. 9). That the surface of the water is truly spherical, we may
infer from the fact, that it is the nature of water always to flow
together into the lowest cavities, that is, into the parts nearest to
the centre (s. 10).
From all the foregoing reasonings, we see plainly that the Kosmos is
spherical, and moreover turned with such a degree of exact sphericity
([Greek: kata\ a)kri/beian e)/ntornos ou(/tôs]), that no piece of
human workmanship nor any thing ever seen by us on earth can be
compared to it. For none of the component materials here on earth is
so fit for receiving perfect level and accuracy as the nature of the
First or Peripheral Body; it being clear that, in the same proportion
as water is more exactly spherical, the elements surrounding the
water become more and more spherical in proportion as they are more
and more distant from the centre (s. 11).
CH. 5.--Circular revolution may take place in two directions; from
the point A on one side towards B, or on the other side towards C.
That these two are not contrary to each other, I have already shown.
But, since in eternal substances nothing can possibly take place by
chance or spontaneity, and since both the Heaven and its circular
revolution are eternal, we may enquire what is the reason why this
revolution takes place in one direction and not in the other. This
circumstance either depends upon some first principle, or is itself a
first principle (s. 1). Perhaps some may consider it a mark either of
great silliness, or great presumption, to declare any positive
opinion at all upon some matters, or upon all matters whatever,
leaving out nothing. But we must not censure indiscriminately all who
do this: we must consider what is the motive which prompts each
person to declare himself, and with what amount of confidence he
affirms, whether allowing for human fallibility or setting himself
above it. Whenever a man can find out exact and necessary grounds for
the conclusions which he propounds, we ought to be grateful to him:
here we must deliver what appears to be the truth. Nature (we know)
always does what is best among all the practicable courses. Now the
upper place is more divine than the lower, and accordingly among
rectilinear currents, that which is directed upwards is the more
honourable. In the same manner, the current forwards is more
honourable than backwards; and the current towards the right more
honourable than that towards the left--as was before laid down. The
problem above started indicates to us that there is here a real Prius
and Posterius--a better and a worse; for, when we recognize this, the
difficulty is solved. The solution is that this is the best
practicable arrangement, viz., that the Kosmos is moved in a motion,
simple, never-ending, and in the most honourable direction ([Greek:
e)pi\ to\ timiô/teron], s. 2).
CH. 6.--I have now to show that this motion of the First Heaven is
uniform and not irregular ([Greek: o(malê\s kai\ ou)k a)nô/malos]):
I speak only of the First Heaven and of the First Rotation; for in
the substances lower than this many rotations or currents have
coalesced into one. If the motion of the First Heaven be irregular,
there will clearly be acceleration and remission of its motion, and
an extreme point or maximum ([Greek: a)kmê/]) thereof. Now the
maximum of motion must take place either at the terminus _ad quem_,
as in things moved according to nature; or at the terminus _a quo_,
as in things moved contrary to nature; or during the interval
between, as in things thrown ([Greek: e)n toi=s r(iptoume/nois]). But
in circular motion, there is neither terminus _a quo_, nor terminus
_ad quem_, nor middle between the two--neither beginning, nor end,
nor mean; for it is eternal in duration, compact as to length or
space moved over, and unbroken ([Greek: tô=| mê/kei sunêgme/nê
kai\ a)/klastos]). It thus cannot have any maximum or acceleration or
remission; and of course, therefore, it cannot be irregular (s. 1).
Besides, since every thing that is moved is moved by some thing, the
irregularity, if there be such, must arise either from the Movens, or
the Motum, or both: the power of the Movens, or the quality of the
Motum, or both, must undergo change. But nothing of the sort can
happen with the Motum, being in this case the Heaven; for it has been
shown to be a First, simple, ungenerable, indestructible, and in
every way unchangeable. Much more then is it reasonable to believe
that the Movens is such; for that which is qualified to move the
First, must be itself a First ([Greek: to\ ga\r prô=ton tou=
prô/tou kinêtiko/n]); that which is qualified to move the simple,
must be itself simple, &c. If then the Motum, which is a body,
undergoes no change, neither will the Movens, being as it is
incorporeal (s. 2). Accordingly the current, or motion ([Greek:
phora/]), cannot possibly be irregular. For, if it comes to pass
irregularly, its irregularity either pervades the whole, the velocity
becoming alternately more or less, or certain parts only. But, in
regard to the parts separately, there is certainly no irregularity:
if there had been, the relative distances of the stars one from the
other would have varied in the course of infinite time; now no such
variation in their distances has ever been observed. Neither in
regard to the whole is there any irregularity. For irregularity
implies relaxation, and relaxation arises in every subject from
impotence. Now impotence is contrary to nature: in animals, all
impotences (such as old age or decay) are contrary to nature; for all
animals, perhaps, are compounds put together out of elements each of
which has a different place of its own and not one of which is in its
own place. In the First Bodies, on the other hand, which are simple,
unmixed, in their own places, and without any contrary, there can be
no impotence, and therefore neither relaxation nor intensification,
which always go together ([Greek: ei) ga\r e)pi/tasis, kai\
a)/nesis], s. 3). Besides, we cannot with any reason suppose that the
Movens is impotent for an infinite time, and then again potent for an
infinite time; nothing contrary to nature lasts for an infinite time,
and impotence is contrary to nature; nor can it be for an equal time
contrary to nature and agreeable to nature--impotent and potent. If
the motion relaxes, it cannot go on relaxing for an infinite time,
nor go on being intensified, nor the one and the other alternately.
For in that case the motion would be infinite and indeterminate;
which is impossible, since every motion must be from one term to
another term and also determinate (s. 4: [Greek: a)/peiros ga\r a)\n
ei)/ê kai\ a)o/ristos ê( ki/nêsis. a(/pasan de/ phamen e)/k tinos
ei)/s ti ei)=nai, kai\ ô(risme/nên]--_i.e._, all motion must be
determined both in distance and direction).
Again, the supposition may be made that there is a minimum of time
required for the revolution of the Heaven, in less than which the
revolution could not be completed; just as there is a minimum of time
indispensable for a man to walk or play the harp. Admitting this
supposition, there cannot be perpetual increase in the intensity or
velocity of the motion (the increase has an impassable limit), and
therefore there cannot be perpetual relaxation; for both are on the
same footing (s. 5).
It might be urged, indeed, that intensification and relaxation go on
alternately; each proceeding to a certain length, and then giving
place to the other. But this is altogether irrational--nothing better
than a gratuitous fiction. Besides, if there were this alternation,
we may reasonably assume that it could not remain concealed from us;
for contrasting conditions coming in immediate sequence to each other
are more easily discerned by sense. What has been said, then, is
sufficient to prove--That the Heaven or Cosmos is one and only one;
that it is ungenerable and eternal; that its motion is uniform (s.
6).
CH. 7.--Next in order, I have to speak of what are called the Stars
([Greek: tô=n kaloume/nôn a)/strôn]). Of what are they composed?
What is their figure? What are their motions?
It is consistent with the foregoing reasonings, as well as in itself
the most rational doctrine, to conceive each of the stars as composed
of portions of that body in which its current of motion takes place;
that is, of that body, whose nature it is to move in a circle. For
those who affirm the stars to be fire say this because they believe
the upper body to be fire, assuming it as reasonable that each thing
should be composed of the elements in which it is; and I assume the
same also (s. 1). The heat and light of the stars arises from their
friction with the air in their current of motion. If it is the nature
of motion to inflame pieces of wood, and stones, and iron, it is
still more reasonable that what is nearest to fire (that is, air)
should be so inflamed. We see that darts projected are so inflamed,
that their leaden appendages are melted; and, these being thus
inflamed, the air around them must be modified in the same manner.
Now objects like these darts are thus violently heated, because they
are carried along in the medium of the air, which through the shock
given by their motion becomes fire. But each of the upper bodies or
stars is carried round (not in the air, but) in its appropriate
sphere, so that they themselves are not inflamed; while the air which
is under the sphere of the encyclical body becomes of necessity
heated by the rotation of that sphere; and most of all at the point
where the Sun has happened to be fastened in ([Greek: kai\ tau/tê|
ma/lista, ê(=| o( ê(/lios tetu/chêken e)ndedeme/nos]).
Let it then be understood, that the stars are neither composed of
fire, nor are they carried round in the medium of the fire (s. 2).
CH. 8.--It is seen as a fact, that both the stars, and the entire
Heaven, change their place ([Greek: methista/mena]). Now, in this
change, we must assume either that both continue at rest, or that
both are in motion, or that one is at rest, and the other is in
motion. Now it is impossible that both can be at rest, at least if we
assume the earth to be at rest; for the facts which we see would not
have taken place, upon that supposition (s. 1). Either therefore both
are in motion, or one is in motion and the other at rest. Now, if
both are in motion, it is against reason that the stars and the
circles in which they are fastened should have equal velocities of
motion. Each one of them must, be equal in velocity to the circle or
sphere in which it is carried, since all come back round along with
their circles to the same position; so that in one and the same time,
the star has gone round its circle, and the circle has completed its
revolution. It is not reasonable to suppose that the velocities of
the stars and the magnitudes of the circles should be in the same
proportion. Comparing one circle with another, indeed, it is not only
not absurd, but even necessary, that the velocities should be in
proportion to the magnitudes; but it is not reasonable that each of
the stars in these circles should be of such velocity. For, if it be
necessary that what is carried round in the larger circle should have
the greater velocity, the consequence would be that, if the stars in
one circle were transferred to another, their motions would become
accelerated or retarded; which is equivalent to saying that they have
no motion of their own at all, but are carried round by the
revolution of the circles (s. 2). If, on the contrary, it be not
necessary, but a spontaneous coincidence ([Greek: ei)/te a)po\
tau)toma/tou sune/pesen]) that what is carried round in the greater
circle has the greater velocity, neither upon this supposition is it
reasonable that in all the circles without exception the
circumference should be greater, and the motion of the star fastened
in the greater circle quicker, in the same proportion. That this
should happen with one or two of them, might be reasonably expected;
but that it should happen with all alike, savours of fiction.
Moreover chance has no place in matters according to nature; nor is
that which occurs everywhere and belongs to all, ever the produce of
chance (s. 3).
So much for the hypothesis, that both stars and circles are in
motion. Let us now assume that one is at rest, and the other in
motion; and first, let the circles be at rest, and the stars in
motion. This again will lead to absurdities; for we shall still be
unable to explain how it happens that the outermost stars are moved
most quickly, and that their velocities are proportioned to the
magnitudes of the circles.
Since then we cannot assume either that both are moved, or that the
star alone is moved, we must adopt the third supposition, that the
circles are moved, and that the stars, being themselves at rest, are
fastened in the circles and carried round along with them. This is
the only hypothesis which entails no unreasonable consequences. For
it is reasonable that, of circles fastened round the same centre, the
greater velocity should belong to the greatest. For, as in all the
varieties of body the heavier fragment is carried with greater
velocity than the lighter in its appropriate motion, so it happens
with the encyclical body. When two straight lines are drawn from the
centre, the segment of the greater circle intercepted between them
will be greater than the segment of the smaller; and it is consistent
with reason that the greater circle should be carried round in equal
time. This is one reason why the Kosmos is not split into separate
parts; another reason is, because the universe has been shown to be
continuous (s. 4, 5).
Now we all agree that the stars are of spherical figure: and
spherical bodies have two motions of their own--rolling and rotatory
([Greek: ku/lisis kai\ di/nêsis]). If they were moved of themselves,
they would be moved in one or other of these two ways; but we see
that they are so in neither. They do not rotate; for, if they did,
they would remain always in the same place, which contradicts
universal observation and belief. Besides, it is reasonable to
suppose that all the stars move in the same manner, but the Sun is
the only one that is seen so to move, when he rises or sets; and he
too, not by any movement of his own, but through the distance of our
vision, which when stretched to a great distance, rotates from
weakness (s. 6). This is perhaps the reason why the stars fastened
(in the outer sphere) twinkle, while the planets do not twinkle; for
the planets are near to us, so that our vision reaches them while yet
strong; whereas in regard to the unmoved stars it is made to quiver
in consequence of the great distance from being stretched out too
far, and its quivering causes the appearance of motion in the star.
For there is no difference between moving the vision and moving the
object seen ([Greek: ou)the\n ga\r diaphe/rei kinei=n tê\n o)/psin
ê)\ to\ o(rô/menon]--s. 6).
Again, neither do the stars roll nor revolve forward. For that which
rolls forward must necessarily turn round; but the same side of the
moon--what is called the face of the moon--is always clearly visible
to us (s. 7).
Since it is reasonable to believe, therefore, that, if the stars were
moved in themselves, they would be moved in their own special variety
of motion (_i.e._, rolling or rotatory), and since it has been shown
that they are not moved in either of these two ways, we see plainly
that they cannot be moved in themselves (but are carried round in the
revolution of the Aplanês).
Besides, if they were moved in **themselves, it is unreasonable that
Nature should have assigned to them no organ suitable for motion,
since Nature does nothing by haphazard; and that she should have been
considerate in providing for animals, while she overlooked objects so
honourable as the stars. The truth rather is, that she has withheld
from them, as it were by express purpose, all aids, through which it
was possible for them to advance forward in themselves, and has
placed them at the greatest possible distance from objects furnished
with organs for motion (s. 8).
Hence it would seem to be the reasonable doctrine--That the entire
Heaven is spherical, and that each of the stars (fastened in it) is
also spherical. For the sphere is the most convenient of all figures
for motion in the same place, so that the Heaven being spherical
would be moved most rapidly and would best maintain its own place.
But for forward motion the sphere is of all figures the most
inconvenient; for it least resembles self-moving bodies; it has no
outlying appendage or projecting end, as rectilinear figures have,
and stands farthest removed from the figures of marching bodies.
Since therefore it is the function of ([Greek: dei=]) the Heaven to
be moved by a motion in the same place ([Greek: kinei=sthai tê\n e)n
au(tô=| ki/nêsin]), and that of the stars not to make any advance
by themselves ([Greek: ta\ a)/lla d' a)/stra mê\ proi+e/nai di'
au(tô=n]), it is with good reason that both of them are spherical.
For thus will the Heaven best be moved, and the stars will best be at
rest.
CH. 9.--From what I have said, it is plain that those who affirm that
the revolving celestial bodies emit in their revolutions sounds
harmonious to each other, speak cleverly and ingeniously, but not
consistently with the truth. There must necessarily be sound (they
say) from the revolution of such vast bodies. Since bodies near to us
make sound in motion, the sun, moon, and stars, being so much larger
and moving with so much greater velocity, must make an immense sound;
and, since their distances and velocities are assumed to be in
harmonic proportion, the sounds emitted in their revolution must also
be in harmony. To the question put to them--Why do we not hear this
immense sound? they reply, that we have been hearing it constantly
from the moment of our birth; that we have no experience of an
opposite state, or state of silence, with which to contrast it, and
that sound and silence are discriminated only by relation to each
other ([Greek: ô(/ste mê\ dia/dêlon ei)=nai pro\s tê\n e)nanti/an
sigê/n; pro\s a)/llêla ga\r phônê=s kai\ sigê=s ei)=nai tê\n
dia/gnôsin]); that men thus cease to be affected by it, just as
blacksmiths from constant habit cease to be affected by the noise of
their own work (s. 1).
The reasoning of these philosophers (the Pythagoreans), as I have
just said, is graceful and poetical, yet nevertheless inadmissible.
For they ought to explain, upon their hypothesis, not merely why we
hear nothing, but why we experience no uncomfortable impressions
apart from hearing. For prodigious sounds pierce through and destroy
the continuity even of inanimate bodies; thus thunder splits up
stones and other bodies of the greatest strength. The impression
produced here by the sound of the celestial bodies must be violent
beyond all endurance. But there is good reason why we neither hear
nor suffer any thing from them; viz., that they make no sound. The
cause thereof is one which attests the truth of my doctrine laid down
above--That the stars are not moved of themselves, but carried round
by and in the circle to which they are fastened. Bodies thus carried
round, make no sound or shock: it is only bodies carried round of
themselves that make sound and shock. Bodies which are fastened in,
or form parts of, a revolving body, cannot possibly sound, any more
than the parts of a ship moving, nor indeed could the whole ship
sound, if carried along in a running river. Yet the Pythagoreans
might urge just the same reasons to prove that bodies so large as the
mast, the stern, and the entire ship, could not be moved without
noise. Whatever is carried round, indeed, in a medium not itself
carried round, really makes sound; but it cannot do so, if the medium
itself be carried round continuously. We must therefore in this case
maintain that, if the vast bodies of the stars were carried round in
a medium either of air or of fire (whose motion is rectilinear), as
all men say that they are, they must necessarily make a prodigious
sound, which would reach here to us and would wear us out ([Greek:
diaknai/ein]). Since nothing of this nature occurs, we may be sure
that the stars are not carried round in a current of their own,
either animated or violent. It is as if Nature had foreseen the
consequence, that, unless the celestial motions were carried on in
the manner in which they are carried on, nothing of what now takes
place near us ([Greek: tô=n peri\ to\n deu=ro to/pon]), could have
been as it is now. I have thus shown that the stars are spherical,
and that they are not moved by a motion of their own (ss. 2-5).
CH. 10.--Respecting the arrangement of the stars--how each of them is
placed, some anterior others posterior, and what are their distances
from each other--the books on astronomy must be consulted and will
explain. It consists with the principles there laid down, that the
motions of the stars (planets) should be proportional to their
distances, some quicker, others slower. For, since the farthest
circle of the Heaven has a revolution both simple and of extreme
velocity, while the revolutions of the other stars (planets) are many
in number and slower, each of them being carried round in its own
circle in the direction contrary to that of the first or farthest
circle of the Heaven, the reasonable consequence is, that that planet
which is nearest to the first and simple revolving circle takes the
longest time to complete its own (counter-revolving) circle, while
that which is most distant from the same circle takes the shortest
time, and the remaining planets take more or less time in proportion
as they are nearer or farther. For the planet nearest to the first
revolving circle has its own counterrevolution most completely
conquered or overpowered thereby; the planet farthest from the same,
has its own counterrevolution least conquered thereby; and the
intermediate planets more or less in inverse proportion to their
distances from the same, as mathematicians demonstrate.
CH. 11.--We may most reasonably assume the figure of the stars to be
spherical. For, since we have shown that it is not their nature to
have any motion of their own, and since Nature does nothing either
irrational or in vain, it is plain that she has assigned to the
immovables that figure which is least fit for motion; which figure is
the sphere, as having no organ for motion. Besides, what is true of
one is true of all ([Greek: e)/ti d' o(moi/ôs me\n a(/panta kai\
e(/n]): now the Moon may be shown to be spherical, first, by the
visible manifestations which she affords in her waxings and wanings,
next, from astronomical observations of the eclipses of the Sun.
Since therefore one among the stars is shown to be spherical, we may
presume that the rest will be so likewise.
CH. 12.--I proceed to two other difficulties, which are well
calculated to perplex every one. We must try to state what looks most
like truth, considering such forwardness not to be of the nature of
audacity, but rather to deserve respect, when any one, stimulated by
the thirst for philosophy, contents himself with small helps and
faint approximations to truth, having to deal with the gravest
difficulties.
1. Why is it, that the circles farthest from the outermost circle (or
Aplanês) are not always moved by a greater number of motions than
those nearer to it? Why are some of the intermediate circles (neither
farthest nor nearest) moved by a greater number of motions than any
of the others? For it would seem reasonable, when the First Body is
moved by one single rotatory current, that the one nearest to it
should be moved by two, the next nearest by three, and so on in
regular sequence to those which are more distant. But we find that
the reverse occurs in fact: Sun and Moon have fewer movements than
some of the planets, which are nevertheless farther from the centre,
and nearer to the First Body. In regard to some of the planets, we
know this by visual evidence; for we have seen the Moon when at
half-moon passing under Mars, who was occulted by the dark part of her
body, and emerged on the bright side of it. The like is attested
respecting the other planets, by the Egyptians and Babylonians, the
most ancient of all observers.
2. Why is it, that in the First Revolution (in the revolution of the
First Heaven or First Body) there is included so vast a multitude of
stars as to seem innumerable; while in each of the others there is
one alone and apart, never two or more fastened in the same current?
Here are two grave difficulties, which it is well to investigate and
try to understand, though our means of information are very scanty,
and though we stand at so great a distance from the facts. Still, as
far as we can make out from such data, these difficulties would not
seem to involve any philosophical impossibility or incongruity. Now
we are in the habit of considering these celestial bodies as bodies
only; and as monads which have indeed regular arrangement, but are
totally destitute of soul or vital principle. (When Aristotle here
says _we_, he must mean the philosophers whose point of view he is
discussing: for the general public certainly did not regard the Sun,
Moon, and stars as [Greek: a)/psucha pa/mpan], but, on the contrary,
considered this as blameable heresy, and looked upon them as
Gods**.) We ought, however, to conceive them as partaking of life
and action ([Greek: dei= d' ô(s metecho/ntôn u(polamba/nein
pra/xeôs kai\ zôê=s]); and in this point of view the actual state
of the case will appear nowise unreasonable (s. 2). For we should
naturally expect that to that which is in the best possible
condition, such well-being will belong without any agency at all; to
that which is next best, through agency single and slight; to such as
are farther removed in excellence of condition, through action more
multiplied and diversified. Just so in regard to the human body: the
best constituted body maintains its good condition without any
training at all; there are others which will do the same at the cost
of nothing more than a little walking; there are inferior bodies
which require, for the same result, wrestling, running, and other
motions; while there are even others which cannot by any amount of
labour attain a good condition, but are obliged to be satisfied with
something short of it (s. 3). Moreover it is difficult to succeed in
many things, or to succeed often: you may throw one or two sixes with
the dice, but you cannot throw ten thousand; and, farther, when the
conditions of the problem become complicated--when one thing is to be
done for the sake of another, that other for a third result, and that
third for a fourth, &c.--success, which may be tolerably easy when
the steps are only few, the more they are multiplied, becomes harder
and harder.
Hence we must consider the agency of the stars as analogous to that
of plants and animals. For here the agency of man is most
multifarious, since he is capable of attaining many varieties of
good, and accordingly busies himself about many things and about one
thing for the sake of others. The agency of other animals on the
other hand is more restricted; that of plants yet more so, being of
slight force and only of one special character (s. 4). But that which
exists in the best possible condition stands in no need of acting or
agency; for it already possesses that for the sake of which action is
undertaken. Now action always includes two elements--that for the
sake of which and what is for the sake thereof--the end and the
means: there is either some one end, which the agent may attain, as
in the case of man; or there are many different matters all of which
may be used as means towards the best possible condition. Thus one
agent possesses and partakes of the best possible condition; another
comes near to it with little trouble; a third, with much trouble; a
fourth does not even aspire to the end, but is competent only to
arrive near to the last of the means. For example, let health be the
end: one man is always in health; a second becomes so, by being
starved down; a third by that, combined with running exercise; a
fourth is obliged to take some additional exercise, in order to
qualify himself for running, so that his motions are multiplied; a
fifth is incapable of arriving at health, but arrives only at the
running and the being thinned down, one of which in this case serves
as end. For it would be best for all, if they could attain the
supreme end--health; but, if that be impossible, then the next best
thing is to get as near to the best as possible (ss. 5-7).
For this reason the Earth is not moved at all, and the matters near
the Earth are moved with few motions; since they do not arrive at the
extreme best, but only as near as their ability permits to obtain or
hit the supremely divine principle; while the First Heaven, on the
contrary, obtains or hits it at once, through one single motion; and
the bodies intermediate between the First Heaven and those which are
last (or nearest to the Earth), obtain it or arrive at it also, but
only through a greater number of motions.
There is the other difficulty also to be considered--that vast
multitude of stars are put all together in the one single First
Current or Revolution, but each of the other stars (planets) has its
own motions singly and apart. The principal reason of this we may
fairly suppose to be that it follows as a natural consequence from
the vast superiority of the first, in each variety of life and in
each beginning, over all posterior to the first. Here the First
Current or Revolution, being one and by itself, moves many of the
divine bodies, while the others (secondary or countercurrents),
numerous as they are, move each only one; for each one of these
wandering bodies or planets is carried by many different currents.
Thus Nature establishes equalization and a sort of symmetry, by
assigning, in the one case, many bodies to one current, and in the
other, many currents to one body (ss. 8-10). Beside this principal
reason, there is also another. The other currents have each one body
only, because motion is given to many bodies by all of them prior to
the last which bears the one star. For the last sphere is carried
round fastened into many spheres, and each sphere is a body (ss. 11,
12. I do not clearly understand the lines that follow:--[Greek:
e)kei/nês a)\n ou)=n koino\n ei)/ê to\ e)/rgon; au(/tê me\n ga\r
e(ka/stê| ê( i)/dios phu/sei phora/; au(/tê de\ oi(=on
proskei=tai. panto\s de\ peperasme/nou sô/matos pro\s peperasme/non
ê( du/nami/s e)stin.]).[1]
[Footnote 1: [See Prantl's note on this difficult passage in his
German translation of the De Coelo, p. 309 (Leipzig, 1857).]]
CH. 13.--Having thus explained, respecting the Stars and Planets
which are carried round in circular motion, what is their essence,
figure, current, and order of position, we now proceed to speak of
the Earth: What is its position? Whether is it at rest or in motion?
What is its figure?
Philosophers differ respecting the position of the Earth. Most of
those who conceive the entire Kosmos as finite, declare the Earth to
be in its centre. But the Italian philosophers, called Pythagoreans,
are of an opposite opinion; affirming that Fire is in the centre, and
that the Earth, being one of the stars revolving round the centre,
makes night and day. They assume moreover another Earth opposite to
this ([Greek: e)nanti/an a)/llên tau/tê|])--which other they call
_Antichthon_. Herein they do not adjust their theories and look out
for causes adapted to the phenomena; but, on the contrary, they
distort the phenomena so as to suit their own doctrines and
reasonings, and try to constitute themselves auxiliary governors of
the Kosmos ([Greek: peirô/menoi sugkosmei=n]--s. 1). And, if we are
to look for assurance not to the phenomena but to our own reasonings,
many others might agree with them, that it is not proper ([Greek:
mê\ dei=n]) to assign to the Earth the central place. They think
that the most honourable place belongs to the most honourable body,
and that Fire is more honourable than Earth; that the two extremes,
centre and circumference, are more honourable than the parts
intermediate between them. Upon these grounds they consider that Fire
and not Earth is at the centre of the Universal Sphere; and they have
another reason, peculiar to themselves, for this conclusion: they
hold that the centre is the most important place in the universe, and
that it ought as such to be the most carefully guarded; wherefore
they call it the watch of Zeus ([Greek: Dio\s phulakê/n]), and
regard it as occupied by Fire (s. 2).
This assumes that what is absolutely (_i.e._, without subjoining any
qualifying adjunct), described as _the centre_, is at once centre of
the magnitude, centre of the object, and centre of nature. But we
ought rather to follow the analogy of animals, where the same point
is not the centre of the animal and the centre of the body: the case
is the same in the entire Kosmos. Hence the Pythagoreans need not
feel any anxiety about the Universe ([Greek: ou)the\n au)tou\s dei=
thorubei=sthai peri\ to\ pa=n]), nor introduce a guard at the centre.
They ought rather to enquire where and of what character the middle
point is; for that middle point is the true beginning and the
honourable. The middle of the place occupied is rather like an end
than like a beginning; for that which is limited is the middle, that
which limits is the boundary: now that which comprehends and is
boundary, is more honourable than that which is bounded; the former
is the Essence of the entire compound, the latter is only its Matter
(s. 3).
As about the place of the Earth, so also about its motion or rest,
philosophers differ. The Pythagoreans and those who do not even place
it at the centre, consider it to revolve in a circle, and they
consider the Antichthon to revolve in like manner. Some even think it
possible that there may be many other bodies carried round the centre
in like manner, though invisible to us, by reason of the obstructing
body of the Earth. Hence (they say) the eclipses of the moon are more
frequent than those of the Sun; since not only the Earth, but also
each of these unseen bodies, causes the Moon to be eclipsed. For, the
Earth not being a point, we on the circumference thereof, even
assuming it to occupy the centre, are distant from the centre by the
entire hemisphere of the Earth; yet we do not find out that we are
not in the centre, and astronomical appearances present themselves to
us just as if we were so. Thus it happens (according to these
philosophers), the Earth not being in the centre at all: the
appearances presented to us are just the same as if we were at the
centre.
Again, there are some who (like Plato in Timæus) affirm that the
Earth, though situated in the centre, is packed and revolves round
the axis stretched across the universe (s. 4).
About the figure of the Earth, there is no less difference of
opinion. Some say that it is spherical; others, that it is flat and
in shape like a tambourine ([Greek: tumpanoeidê/s]). These last
adduce as proof, that the Sun, at rising and setting, exhibits a
rectilinear section or eclipse of his disk and not a circular one,
when partially concealed by the Earth, and becoming invisible under
the horizon or visible above the horizon. They do not take proper
account of the vast distance of the Sun and the magnitude of his
circumference. The segment of a long circle appears from a distance
like a straight line. These philosophers further add, that the flat
tambourine-like shape must be inferred of necessity from the fact
that the Earth remains stationary (s. 5).
Upon this disputed question, a feeling of perplexity comes
unavoidably upon every one. It would argue a very irrational mind not
to wonder how a small piece of the Earth, if suspended in the air, is
carried downward and will not stop of itself, and the larger piece is
carried downward more quickly than the smaller; while nevertheless
the entire Earth, if suspended in like manner, would not be so
carried. In spite of its great weight, it remains stationary (s. 6).
But the solutions of this problem which some suggest are more strange
and full of perplexity, and it is surprising that they have not been
so considered. The Kolophonian Xenophanes affirmed that the lower
depths of the Earth were rooted downwards to infinity, in order to
escape the troublesome obligation of looking for a reason why it
remained stationary. Others say, that the Earth rests upon water,
floating thereupon like wood: this is an ancient doctrine promulgated
by Thales; as if there were not as much perplexity about the water
which supports the Earth, as there is about the Earth itself. For it
is not the nature of water to remain suspended, but always to rest
upon something (s. 7). Moreover, air is lighter than water, and water
lighter than earth; how then can these men think that the substance
naturally lighter can lie below the substance naturally heavier?
Besides, if it were the nature of the whole Earth to remain resting
on water, it must be the nature of each part of the Earth to do the
same; but this does not happen: each part of the earth is carried
down to the bottom, and the greater part more quickly than the less
(s. 8).
All these philosophers carry their researches to a certain point, but
not to the bottom of the problem. It is indeed a habit with all of us
to conduct our enquiries not with reference to the problem itself,
but with reference to our special opponents. If we have no opponent
but are conducting our investigations alone, we pursue them as far as
that point where we can make no farther objections to ourselves.
Whoever therefore intends to investigate completely must take care to
make objections to himself upon all the points of objection which
really belong to the subject; and this he can only do after having
thoroughly surveyed all the differences of opinion and doctrine (s.
9).
The reason why the Earth remains at rest, Anaximenes, Anaxagoras, and
Demokritus, declare to be its breadth or flatness ([Greek: to\
pla/tos]): it does not (they say) divide the air beneath, but covers
over the air like a lid ([Greek: ou) ga\r te/mnein, a)ll'
e)pipômati/zein to\n a)e/ra to\n ka/tôthen]); as we see that flat
and spreading bodies usually do, being difficult to be moved and
making strong resistance even against the winds. The Earth does the
same, through its flatness, against the air beneath, which remains at
rest there (in the opinion of these philosophers) because it finds no
sufficient place into which to travel, like water in a _klepsydra_:
they also produce many evidences to show that air thus imprisoned,
while remaining stationary, can support a heavy weight (s. 10).
Now, in the first place, these men affirm that, unless the shape of
the Earth were flat, it would not remain at rest. Yet on their own
showing it is not alone the flat shape of the earth which causes it
to remain at rest, but rather its magnitude. For the air beneath
remains _in situ_ by reason of its vast mass, finding no means of
escape through the narrow passage: and the mass of the air is thus
vast, because it is imprisoned inside by the great magnitude of the
Earth; which effect will be produced in the same manner, even though
the Earth be spherical, provided it be of its present magnitude.
Moreover, philosophers who hold this opinion about the motion of the
Earth, think only of its motion as a whole, and take no account of
its parts. For they ought to define at the first step whether bodies
have or have not one special mode of motion by nature; and, if none
by nature, then whether they have any mode of motion violent or
contra-natural. I have already determined this point as well as my
powers admitted, and shall therefore assume the results as settled.
If there be no special motion natural to bodies, neither will there
be any which is contra-natural or violent; and, if there be none
either natural or violent, no body will be moved at all. I have
already shown that this is a necessary consequence; and, farther,
that (upon that supposition) there can be no body even at rest; for
rest, like motion, is either natural or contra-natural; and, if there
be any special mode of motion which is natural, neither
contra-natural motion, nor contra-natural rest, can stand alone
(ss. 11-13).
Let us then assume (reasoning on the hypothesis of these
philosophers) that the Earth now remains in its present place
contrary to nature, and that it was carried into aggregation at the
centre by the revolution of the Kosmos (also contrary to
nature--[Greek: kai\ sunê=lthen e)pi\ to\ me/son pherome/nê dia\ tê\n
di/nêsin]--s. 14). For all those who recognize a generation of the
Kosmos assign this revolution as the cause which determined the
aggregation of the Earth at the centre, upon the analogy of particles
carried round in liquids or in air, where the larger and heavier
particles are always carried to the centre of the revolution. They
profess thus to know the cause which determined the Earth to _come
to_ the centre; but what they seek to find out is the cause which
determines it to remain there, and upon that they differ: some
saying, as has been stated just now, that its breadth and magnitude
is the cause; others, with Empedokles, ascribing the fact to the
revolution of the Heaven, the extreme velocity of which checks the
fall of the Earth downward, just as water in a cup may be whirled
rapidly round without falling to the ground. But suppose absence of
these two causes: in which direction will the Earth be naturally
carried? Not to the centre; for (upon the doctrine which we are now
criticising) its motion to the centre, and its remaining at the
centre, are both of them contra-natural; but some special mode of
motion, natural to the Earth, there must necessarily be. Is this
upward, or downward, or in what other direction? If there be no
greater tendency downward than upward, and if the air above does not
hinder the Earth from tending upward, neither will the air beneath
hinder it from tending downwards: the same causes produce the same
effects, operating on the same matter (ss. 14, 15).
A farther argument becomes applicable, when we are reasoning against
Empedokles. When the four elements were first separated out of their
confused huddle by the influence of Contention, what was the cause
for the Earth to remain still and _in situ_? Empedokles cannot claim
to introduce then the agency of the cosmical revolution. Moreover, it
is strange that he should not have reflected that in the first
instance the particles and fragments of the Earth were carried to the
centre. But what is the cause now that every thing having weight is
carried towards the Earth? It cannot be the revolution of the Heaven
which brings these things nearer to us (s. 16).
Again, Fire is carried upward. What is the cause of this? The
revolution of the Heaven cannot cause it. But, if it be the nature of
fire to be carried in one certain direction, it must be equally the
nature of Earth to be carried in one certain direction. Light and
heavy, also, are not discriminated by the heavenly revolution. There
are matters originally heavy, and matters originally light: the
former are carried to the centre, the latter to the circumference,
each by its own special motion. Even prior to the heavenly revolution
there existed things intrinsically light and intrinsically heavy;
which are discriminated by certain attributes--a certain natural mode
of motion and a certain place. In infinite space, there can be no
upward and downward; and it is by this (local distinction) that light
and heavy are discriminated (ss. 17, 18).
While most philosophers insist upon the causes just noticed why the
Earth remains stationary where it is, there are others, like
Anaximander, among the ancients, who say that it remains so because
of its likeness or equality ([Greek: dia\ tê\n o(moio/tera]--equal
tendency in all directions). That which is situated in the centre
(they say) and which has like relation to the extreme parts (_i.e._,
like to _all_ the extreme parts) ought not to be carried any more
upward or downward or sideways; and it cannot be moved in opposite
directions at once; so that it remains stationary by necessity (s.
19).
This doctrine is ingenious, but not true. For the property affirmed
is noway peculiar to the Earth: the affirmation is, that every thing
which is placed at the centre must of necessity remain there; so that
Fire also would remain there at rest, as well as Earth. But this
necessity must be denied. For it is shown by observation that the
Earth not only remains at the centre, but is carried to the centre;
since each part of it is carried thither, and, whithersoever the
parts are carried, the whole is carried necessarily to the same
point. The peculiar property of the earth therefore is, not (as this
hypothesis declares) to have like relation to all the extreme
parts--for that is common to all the elements--but to be carried
towards the centre (ss. 20, 21).
Moreover, it is absurd to investigate why the Earth remains at the
centre, and not to investigate equally why Fire remains at the
extremity. For, if you explain this last by saying that Fire has its
natural place at the extremity, the Earth must have its natural place
somewhere else. If the centre be not the natural place of the Earth,
and if the Earth remains there through like tendency in all
directions, like the hair in equal tension or the man both hungry and
thirsty between food and drink, you must equally assign the reason
why Fire remains at the extremity. It is singular too that you should
try to explain only the _remaining at rest_ ([Greek: monê=s]) of the
Earth, and not also seek to explain the natural current ([Greek:
phora/])--why Earth is carried downward, and Fire upward, when there
is no opposing force (s. 22).
Nor can it be admitted that the doctrine is true. Thus much indeed is
true by accident--that every thing which has no greater obligation to
be moved in this direction than in that, must necessarily remain at
the centre. But this is true only so long as it remains a compact
whole; for, according to the theory which we are discussing, it will
not remain stationary, but will be moved: not indeed as a whole, but
dispersed into parts (s. 23: [Greek: a)lla\ mê\n ou)de\ a)lêthe/s
e)sti to\ lego/menon. kata\ sumbebêko\s me/ntoi tou=to/ ge
a)lêthe/s, ô(s a)nagkai=on me/nein e)pi\ tou= me/sou pa=n, ô(=|
mêthe\n ma=llon deu=ro ê( deu=ro kinei=sthai prosê/kei. a)lla\
dia/ ge tou=ton to\n lo/gon ou) menei= a)lla\ kinêthê/setai; ou)
me/ntoi o(/lon, a)lla\ diespasme/non.]--I understand [Greek: kata\
sumbebêko/s] to mean, subject to the condition of its remaining a
compact whole). For the same reasoning would apply to Fire as well as
to Earth: it would prove that Fire, if placed at the centre, will
remain there just as much as Earth, because Fire will have like
relation to each point of the extreme periphery. Yet nevertheless it
will (not remain at the centre, but will) be carried away, if not
impeded, as we observe that it is carried in fact, to the periphery;
only not all to one and the same point of the periphery, but
corresponding portions of the Fire to corresponding portions of the
periphery: I mean, that the fourth part (_e.g._) of the Fire will be
carried to the fourth part of the periphery; for a point is no real
part of bodies ([Greek: ou)the\n ga\r stigmê\ tô=n sôma/tôn
e)sti/n]). This is the only necessary consequence flowing from the
principle of likeness of relation. As, if supposed to be put all
together at the centre, it would contract from a larger area into a
smaller, so, when carried away from the centre to the different parts
of the periphery, it would become rarer and would expand from a
smaller area into a larger. In like manner the Earth also would be
moved away from the centre, if you reason upon this principle of
likeness of relation, and if the centre were not the place belonging
to it by nature (s. 24).
CH. 14.--Having thus reported the suppositions of others respecting
the figure, place, rest and motion, of the Earth, I shall now deliver
my own opinion, first, whether it is in motion or at rest; for some
philosophers, as I have said, regard it as one of the stars (and
therefore not in the centre, but moving round the centre--the
Pythagorean theory); others (as Plato), though they place it in the
centre, consider it to be packed and moved round the middle of the
axis of the Kosmos ([Greek: oi( de\ e)pi\ tou= me/sou the/ntes,
ei)lei=sthai kai\ kinei=sthai/ phasi peri\ to\n me/son po/lon]).
That neither of these hypotheses is possible, we shall perceive if we
take as our point of departure--That, if the Earth be carried round,
whether in the centre or apart from the centre, such motion must
necessarily be violent or contra-natural. Such motion does not belong
naturally to the Earth itself; for, if such were the fact, it would
belong equally to each portion of the Earth, whereas we see that all
these portions are carried in a straight line to the centre. Being
thus violent or contra-natural, it cannot possibly be eternal. But
the order of the Kosmos is eternal. Besides, all the bodies which are
carried round in a circular revolution (all except the First or
Outermost Sphere--the Aplanês) appear to observation as lagging
behind and as being moved in more than one current. The like ought to
happen with the Earth, if moved round, whether on the centre or apart
from the centre: it ought to be moved in two currents; and, as a
consequence thereof, there ought to be side-motions and back-turnings
of the stars fastened in their sphere. But we see by observation that
this does not happen; and that the same stars always rise and set at
the same places of the Earth (s. 1).
Farthermore, the natural current both of the entire Earth and of each
of its parts is towards the middle of the universe: this is the
reason why it is at the centre, even though it happens to be actually
there at present ([Greek: dia\ tou=to ga\r, ka)\n ei) tugcha/nei
keime/nê nu=n e)pi\ tou= ke/ntrou]--he means that though actually
there, it remains there not through any force of inertia or other
cause, but because it has a natural current towards the centre). You
might start a doubt, indeed, since the centre of the Universe
coincides with the centre of the Earth, to which of the two it is
that the current of heavy bodies naturally tends: whether they tend
thereto because it is the centre of the Universe, or because it is
the centre of the Earth. We must however necessarily suppose the
former; since Fire and light bodies, whose current is the contrary of
the current of heavy bodies, are carried to the extreme periphery of
the Universe, or of that place which comprehends and surrounds the
centre of the Universe (ss. 2, 3). But it happens ([Greek:
sumbe/bêke]: it is an accompanying fact) that the same point is
centre of the Universe and centre of the Earth; accordingly heavy
bodies are carried by accident ([Greek: kata\ sumbebêko/s]--by
virtue of this accompanying fact) to the centre of the Earth; and the
proof that they are carried to this same point is, that their lines
of direction are not parallel but according to similar angles (s. 4).
That the Earth therefore is at the centre, and that it is at rest, we
may see by the foregoing reasons, as well as by the fact, that stones
thrown upwards to ever so great a height, are carried back in the
same line of direction to the same point (s. 5).
We may see farther the cause why the Earth remains at rest. For, if
its natural current be from all directions towards the centre, as
observation shows, and that of Fire from the centre to the
periphery,--no portion of it can possibly be carried away from the
centre, except by violence. For to one body belongs one current of
motion, and to a simple body a simple current--not the two opposite
currents; and the current _from_ the centre is opposite to the
current _to_ the centre. If, therefore, it be impossible for any
portion of the Earth to be carried in a direction away from the
centre, it is yet more impossible for the whole Earth to be so; for
the natural current of each part is the same as that of the whole.
Accordingly, since the Earth cannot be moved except by a superior
force or violence, it must necessarily remain stationary at the
centre (s. 6). The same conclusion is confirmed by what we learn from
geometers respecting astronomy; for all the phenomena of the
Heavens--the changes in figure, order, and arrangement of the
stars--take place as if the Earth were in the centre (s. 7).
The figure of the Earth is necessarily spherical. For each of its
parts has gravity, until it reaches the centre; and the lesser part,
pushed forward by the greater, cannot escape laterally, but must
become more and more squeezed together, one part giving place to the
other, until the centre itself is reached. We must conceive what is
here affirmed as occurring in a manner like what some of the ancient
physical philosophers tell us, except that _they_ ascribe the
downward current to an extraneous force; whereas we think it better
to state the truth, and to say that it occurs because _by nature_ all
heavy bodies are carried towards the centre. Since, therefore, the
preliminary Chaos or hotchpotch existed in power (or with its
inherent powers existing though not exercised), the elements (those
which had gravity), were carried from all sides equally towards the
centre ([Greek: e)n duna/mei ou)=n o)/ntos tou= mi/gmatos, ta\
diakrino/mena e)phe/reto o(moi/ôs pa/ntothen pro\s to\ me/son]--this
is an allusion to the doctrine of Anaxagoras); indeed, whether
brought together at the centre equally from all the periphery or in
any other manner, the result will be the same. If we suppose
particles to be brought together at the centre equally from all
sides, it is plain that the mass so formed will be regular and
spherical; and, even if not equally from all sides, this will make no
difference in the reasoning; for, since all portions of the mass have
weight or tend to the centre, the larger portions will necessarily
push the lesser before them as far as the centre (ss. 8, 9).
A difficulty here presents itself, which may be solved upon the same
principles. The Earth being spherical, and at the centre, suppose
that a vast additional weight were applied to either of its
hemispheres. In that case, the centre of the Universe, and the centre
of the Earth, would cease to coincide: either, therefore, the Earth
will not remain at the centre; or, if it would still remain at rest,
while not occupying the centre, it is in its nature to be moved even
now (s. 10: [Greek: ô(/ste ê)\ ou) menei= e)pi\ tou= me/sou, ê)\
ei)/per ê)remê/sei ge kai\ mê\ to\ me/son e)/chousa ê)=|,
pe/phuke kinei=sthai kai\ nu=n])--_i.e._, if the Earth _can_ be at
rest when not at the centre, we must infer that the centre is not its
natural place, and therefore that its nature will be to be moved from
the centre towards that natural place wherever situated).
Such is a statement of the difficulty; but we shall see that it may
be cleared up with a little attention. We must distinguish what we
mean when we affirm that every particle having weight is carried
towards the centre. We clearly do not mean that it will be so carried
until the particles farthest from the centre shall touch the centre.
We mean that the greater mass must press with preponderating force
([Greek: dei= kratei=n to\ plei=on e(/ôs a)\n la/bê| tô=| au(tou=
me/sô| to\ me/son]) until its centre grasps the centre of the
universe; up to this point its gravity will last; and this is equally
true about any clod of earth as about the whole earth: large or small
size makes no difference. Whether the whole Earth were carried in a
mass from any given position, or whether it were carried in separate
particles, in either case it would be carried onward until it
embraced the centre equally on all sides; the smaller parts being
equalized to the greater in gravitating tendency because they are
pushed forward by the greater ([Greek: a)nisazome/nôn tô=n
e)latto/nôn u(po\ tô=n meizo/nôn tê=| proô/sei]--s. 11). If,
therefore, the Earth was ever generated, it must have been generated
in this manner, and must thus acquire a spherical figure; and, even
if it be ungenerable and stationary from everlasting, we must
conceive its figure to be that which it would have acquired, if it
had been generable and generated from the first ([Greek: ei)/te
a)ge/nnêtos a)ei\ me/nousa, to\n au)to\n tro/pon e)/chein, o(/nper
ka)\n ei) gignome/nê to\ prô=ton e)ge/neto]). That it must be
spherical, we see not only from this reasoning, but also because all
heavy bodies are carried towards it, not in parallel lines but, in
equal angles. This is what naturally happens with what is either
actually spherical, or by nature spherical. Now we ought to call
every thing such as it by nature wishes to become and to be: we ought
not to call it such as it is by force and contrary to nature (s. 12).
The same conclusion is established by the sensible facts within our
observation. If the Earth had been of any other than spherical
figure, the eclipses of the Moon would not have projected on the Sun
the outlines which we now see. The moon in her configurations
throughout the month takes on every variety of outline--rectilinear,
double convex, and hollow. But in her eclipses the distinguishing
line is always convex. Now this must necessarily be occasioned by the
circumference of the Earth being spherical, since the eclipses of the
Moon arise from the interposition of the Earth (s. 13).
Farthermore, we see from the visible phenomena of the stars not only
that the Earth is spherical, but also that its magnitude is not
great. For, when we change our position a little as observers, either
to the north or to the south, we find the celestial horizon to be
manifestly different. The stars at the zenith are greatly changed,
and the same stars do not appear: some stars are visible in Egypt and
Cyprus, but become invisible when we proceed farther north; and those
which are constantly visible in the northern regions, are found to be
not constantly visible, but to set, when the observer is in Egypt or
Cyprus. The bulk of the Earth must therefore be small, when a small
change of position is made so soon manifest to us (s. 14). Hence
those who hold that the regions near the pillars of Herakles join on
with India and that the ocean eastward and westward is one and the
same, must not be supposed to talk extravagantly ([Greek: mê\ li/an
u(polamba/nein a)/pista dokei=n]): they infer this from the presence
of elephants alike at both extremities. Geometers who try to
calculate the magnitude of the Earth, affirm that its circumference
is 400,000 stadia.
It follows necessarily from all these reasonings, that the body of
the Earth is not only of spherical form, but also not large compared
with the magnitude of the other Stars (ss. 15, 16).
[The remaining two books of the treatise known by the title 'De
Coelo,' while connected with the foregoing, are still more closely
connected with the two Books composing the treatise entitled 'De
Generatione et Corruptione.' The discussion carried on throughout the
two treatises is in truth one; but, if anywhere broken, it is at the
end of Book II. De Coelo, as above. From this point Aristotle
proceeds to consider (in four Books) the particular phenomena
presented by natural bodies--phenomena of Generation and Destruction
(in the widest sense of these words)--dependent on the opposition of
the upward and downward motions; bodies, thus light or heavy, being
thence seen to be ultimately reducible to four elements variously
combined. Treating of the Kosmos in its larger aspects, the first two
Books of De Coelo, here abstracted, are obviously those that alone
correspond strictly to the name of the treatise.]
V.
EPIKURUS
Our information from Epikurean writers respecting the doctrines of
their sect is much less copious than that which we possess from Stoic
writers in regard to Stoic opinions. We have no Epikurean writer on
philosophy except Lucretius; whereas respecting the Stoical creed
under the Roman Empire, the important writings of Seneca, Epictetus,
and Marcus Antoninus, afford most valuable evidence.
The standard of Virtue and Vice is referred by Epikurus to Pleasure
and Pain. Pain is the only evil, Pleasure is the only good. Virtue is
no end in itself, to be sought; vice is no end in itself, to be
avoided. The motive for cultivating virtue and banishing vice arises
from the consequences of each, as the means of multiplying pleasures
and averting or lessening pains. But to the attainment of this
purpose, the complete supremacy of Reason is indispensable; in order
that we may take a right comparative measure of the varieties of
pleasure and pain, and pursue the course that promises the least
amount of suffering.
This theory (taken in its most general sense, and apart from
differences in the estimation of particular pleasures and pains), had
been proclaimed long before the time of Epikurus. It is one of the
various theories of Plato; for in his dialogue called Protagoras
(though in other dialogues he reasons differently) we find it
explicitly set forth and elaborately vindicated by his principal
spokesman, Sokrates, against the Sophist Protagoras. It was also held
by Aristippus (companion of Sokrates along with Plato) and by his
followers after him, called the Kyrenaics. Lastly, it was maintained
by Eudoxus, one of the most estimable philosophers contemporary with
Aristotle. Epikurus was thus in no way the originator of the theory;
but he had his own way of conceiving it, his own body of doctrine
physical, cosmological, and theological, with which it was
implicated, and his own comparative valuation of pleasures and pains.
Bodily feeling, in the Epikurean psychology, is prior in order of
time to the mental element; the former is primordial, while the
latter is derived from it by repeated processes of memory and
association. But, though such is the order of sequence and
generation, yet when we compare the two as constituents of happiness
to the formed man, the mental element much outweighs the bodily, both
as pain and as pleasure. Bodily pain or pleasure exists only in the
present; when not felt, it is nothing. But mental feelings involve
memory and hope, embrace the past as well as the future, endure for a
long time, and may be recalled or put out of sight, to a great
degree, at our discretion.
This last point is one of the most remarkable features of the
Epikurean mental discipline. Epikurus deprecated the general habit of
mankind in always hankering after some new satisfaction to come;
always discontented with the present, and oblivious of past comforts
as if they had never been. These past comforts ought to be treasured
up by memory and reflection, so that they might become as it were
matter for rumination, and might serve, in trying moments, even to
counterbalance extreme physical suffering. The health of Epikurus
himself was very bad during the closing years of his life. There
remains a fragment of his last letter, to an intimate friend and
companion, Idomeneus:--"I write this to you on the last day of my
life, which, in spite of the severest internal bodily pains, is still
a happy day, because I set against them in the balance all the mental
pleasure felt in the recollection of my past conversations with you.
Take care of the children left by Metrodorus, in a manner worthy of
your demeanour from boyhood towards me and towards philosophy."
Bodily pain might thus be alleviated, when it occurred; it might be
greatly lessened in occurrence, by prudent and moderate habits;
lastly, even at the worst, if violent, it never lasted long; if not
violent, it might be patiently borne, and was at any rate terminated,
or terminable at pleasure, by death.
In the view of Epikurus, the chief miseries of life arose, not from
bodily pains, but partly from delusions of hope and exaggerated
aspirations for wealth, honours, power, &c., in all which the objects
appeared most seductive from a distance, inciting man to lawless
violence and treachery, while in the reality they were always
disappointments and generally something worse; partly, and still
more, from the delusions of fear. Of this last sort, were the two
greatest torments of human existence--fear of Death and of eternal
suffering after death, as announced by prophets and poets, and fear
of the Gods. Epikurus, who did not believe in the continued existence
of the soul separate from the body, declared that there could never
be any rational ground for fearing death, since it was simply a
permanent extinction of consciousness. Death was nothing to us (he
said): when death comes, _we_ are no more, either to suffer or to
enjoy. Yet it was the groundless fear of this nothing that poisoned
all the tranquillity of life, and held men imprisoned even when
existence was a torment. Whoever had surmounted that fear was armed
at once against cruel tyranny and against all the gravest
misfortunes. Next, the fear of the gods was not less delusive, and
hardly less tormenting, than the fear of death. It was a capital
error (Epikurus declared) to suppose that the gods employed
themselves as agents in working or superintending the march of the
Kosmos; or in conferring favour on some men, and administering
chastisement to others. The vulgar religious tales, which represented
them in this character, were untrue and insulting as regards the gods
themselves, and pregnant with perversion and misery as regards the
hopes and fears of mankind. Epikurus believed sincerely in the gods;
reverenced them as beings at once perfectly happy, immortal, and
unchangeable; and took delight in the public religious festivals and
ceremonies. But it was inconsistent with these attributes, and
repulsive to his feelings of reverence, to conceive them as agents.
The idea of agency is derived from human experience: we, as agents,
act with a view to supply some want, to fulfil some obligation, to
acquire some pleasure, to accomplish some object desired but not yet
attained--in short, to fill up one or other of the many gaps in our
imperfect happiness: the gods already _have_ all that agents strive
to get, and more than agents ever do get; their condition is one not
of agency, but of tranquil, self-sustaining, fruition. Accordingly,
Epikurus thought (as Aristotle[1] had thought before him) that the
perfect, eternal, and imperturbable well-being and felicity of the
gods excluded the supposition of their being agents. He looked upon
them as types of that unmolested safety and unalloyed satisfaction
which was what he understood by pleasure or happiness, as objects of
reverential envy, whose sympathy he was likely to obtain by
assimilating his own temper and condition to theirs as far as human
circumstances allowed.
[Footnote 1: Aristot. De Coelo, II. xii. p. 292, a. 22-b. 7: [Greek:
e)/oike ga\r tô=| me\n a)/rista e)/chonti u(pa/rchein to\ eu)= a)/neu
pra/xeôs, tô=| d' e)ggu/tata dia\ o)li/gês kai\ mia=s, toi=s de\
por)r(ôta/tô dia\ pleio/nôn,--tô=| d' ô(s a)/rista e)/chonti ou)the\n
dei= pra/xeôs; e)/sti ga\r au)to\ to\ ou(= e(/neka, ê( de\ pra=xis
a)ei/ e)stin e)n dusi/n, o(/tan kai\ ou(= e(/neka ê)=| kai\ to\
tou/tou e(/neka.] &c. Ibid. iii. p. 286, a. 9: [Greek: theou= d'
e)ne/rgeia a)thanasi/a; tou=to d' e)sti\ zôê\ a)i+/dos], &c.
In the Ethica, Aristotle assigns theorizing contemplation to the
gods, as the only process worthy of their exalted dignity and supreme
felicity.]
These theological views were placed by Epikurus in the foreground of
his ethical philosophy, as the only means of dispelling **those fears
of the gods that the current fables instilled into every one, and
that did so much to destroy human comfort and security. He proclaimed
that beings in immortal felicity neither suffered vexation in
themselves nor caused vexation to others; neither showed anger nor
favour to particular persons. The doctrine that they were the working
managers in the affairs of the Kosmos, celestial and terrestrial,
human and extra-human, he not only repudiated as incompatible with
their attributes, but declared to be impious, considering the
disorder, sufferings, and violence, everywhere visible. He disallowed
all prophecy, divination, and oracular inspiration, by which the
public around him believed that the gods were perpetually
communicating special revelations to individuals, and for which
Sokrates had felt so peculiarly thankful.
It is remarkable that Stoics and Epikureans, in spite of their marked
opposition in dogma or theory, agreed so far in practical results,
that both declared these two modes of uneasiness (fear of the gods
and fear of death) to be the great torments of human existence, and
both strove to remove or counterbalance them.
So far the teaching of Epikurus appears confined to the separate
happiness of each individual, as dependent upon his own prudence,
sobriety, and correct views of Nature. But this is not the whole of
the Epikurean Ethics. The system also considered each man as in
companionship with others: the precepts were shaped accordingly,
first as to Justice, next as to Friendship. In both, these, the
foundation whereon Epikurus built was Reciprocity--not pure sacrifice
to others, but partnership with others, beneficial to all. He kept
the ideas of self and of others inseparably knit together in one
complex association: he did not expel or degrade either, in order to
give exclusive ascendancy to the other. The dictate of Natural
Justice was, that no man should hurt another: each was bound to
abstain from doing harm to others; each, on this condition, was
entitled to count on security and relief from the fear that others
would do harm to him. Such double aspect, or reciprocity, was
essential to social companionship: those that could not, or would
not, accept this covenant, were unfit for society. If a man does not
behave justly towards others, he cannot expect that they will behave
justly towards him; to live a life of injustice, and expect that
others will not find it out, is idle. The unjust man cannot enjoy a
moment of security. Epikurus laid it down explicitly, that just and
righteous dealing was the indispensable condition to every one's
comfort, and was the best means of attaining it.
The reciprocity of Justice was valid towards all the world; the
reciprocity of Friendship went much farther: it involved indefinite
and active beneficence, but could reach only to a select few.
Epikurus insisted emphatically on the value of friendship, as a means
of happiness to both the persons so united. He declared that a good
friend was another self, and that friends ought to be prepared, in
case of need, to die for each other. Yet he declined to recommend an
established community of goods among the members of his fraternity,
as prevailed in the Pythagorean brotherhood: for such an institution
(he said) implied mistrust. He recommended efforts to please and to
serve, and a forwardness to give, for the purpose of gaining and
benefiting a friend, and he even declared that there was more
pleasure in conferring favours than in receiving them; but he was no
less strenuous in inculcating an intelligent gratitude on the
receiver. No one except a wise man (he said) knew how to return a
favour properly.[2]
[Footnote 2: Seneca, Epist. p. 81.]
These exhortations to active friendship were not unfruitful. We know,
even by the admission of witnesses adverse to the Epikurean
doctrines, that the harmony among the members of the sect, with
common veneration for the founder, was more marked and more enduring
than that exhibited by any of the other philosophical sects. Epikurus
himself was a man of amiable personal qualities: his testament, still
remaining, shows an affectionate regard both for his surviving
friends, and for the permanent attachment of each to the others as
well as of all to the school. Diogenes Laertius tells us--nearly 200
years after Christ, and 450 years after the death of Epikurus--that
the Epikurean sect still continued its numbers and dignity, having
outlasted its contemporaries and rivals. The harmony among the
Epikureans may be explained, not merely from the temper of the
master, but partly from the doctrines and plan of life that he
recommended. Ambition and love of power were discouraged; rivalry
among the members for success, either political or rhetorical, was at
any rate a rare exception; all were taught to confine themselves to
that privacy of life and love of philosophical communion which alike
required and nourished the mutual sympathies of the brotherhood. In
regard to politics, Epikurus advised quiet submission to established
authority, without active meddling beyond what necessity required.
Virtue and happiness, in the theory of Epikurus, were inseparable. A
man could not be happy until he had surmounted the fear of death and
the fear of gods instilled by the current fables, which disturbed all
tranquillity of mind; until he had banished those factitious desires
that pushed him into contention for wealth, power, or celebrity; nor
unless he behaved with justice to all, and with active devoted
friendship towards a few. Such a mental condition, which he thought
it was in every man's power to acquire by appropriate teaching and
companionship, constituted virtue; and was the sure as well as the
only precursor of genuine happiness. A mind thus undisturbed and
purified was sufficient to itself. The mere satisfaction of the wants
of life, and the conversation of friends, became then felt pleasures:
if more could be had without preponderant mischief, so much the
better; but Nature, disburthened of her corruptions and prejudices,
required no more to be happy. This at least was as much as the
conditions of humanity admitted: a tranquil, undisturbed, innocuous,
non-competitive fruition, which approached most nearly to the perfect
happiness of the Gods.
When we read the explanations given by Epikurus and Lucretius of what
the Epikurean theory really was, and compare them with the numerous
attacks upon it made by opponents, we cannot but remark that the
title and formula of the theory was ill-chosen, and really a
misnomer. What Epikurus meant by Pleasure was not what most people
meant by it, but something very different--a tranquil and comfortable
state of mind and body; much the same as what Demokritus had
expressed before him by the phrase [Greek: eu)thumi/a]. This last
phrase would have expressed what Epikurus aimed at, neither more nor
less. It would at least have preserved his theory from much misplaced
sarcasm and aggressive rhetoric.
The Physics of Epikurus was borrowed in the main from the atomic
theory of Demokritus, but modified by him in a manner subservient and
contributory to his ethical scheme. To that scheme it was essential
that those celestial, atmospheric, or terrestrial phenomena which the
public around him ascribed to agency and purposes of the gods, should
be understood as being produced by physical causes. An eclipse, an
earthquake, a storm, a shipwreck, unusual rain or drought, a good or
a bad harvest--and not merely these, but many other occurrences far
smaller and more unimportant, as we may see by the eighteenth chapter
of the 'Characters' of Theophrastus--were then regarded as
visitations of the gods, requiring to be interpreted by recognized
prophets, and to be appeased by ceremonial expiations. When once a
man became convinced that all these phenomena proceeded from physical
agencies, a host of terrors and anxieties would disappear from the
mind; and this Epikurus asserted to be the beneficent effect and real
recommendation of physical philosophy. He took little or no thought
for scientific curiosity as a motive _per se_, which both Demokritus
and Aristotle put so much in the foreground.
He composed a treatise called 'Kanonicon' (now lost), which seems to
have been a sort of Logic of Physics--a summary of the principles of
evidence. In his system, Psychology was to a great extent a
branch--though a peculiar and distinct branch--of Physics, since the
soul was regarded as a subtle but energetic material compound (air,
vapour, heat, and another nameless ingredient), with its best parts
concentrated in the chest, yet pervading and sustaining the whole
body--still, however, depending for its support on the body, and
incapable of separate or disembodied continuance.
Epikurus recognized, as the primordial basis of the universe, Atoms,
Vacuum, and Motion. The atoms were material solid _minima_, each too
small to be apprehended separately by sense; they had figure,
magnitude, and gravity, but no other qualities. They were infinite in
number, and ever moving in an infinite vacuum. Their motions brought
them into various coalitions and compounds, resulting in the
perceptible bodies of nature; each of which in its combined state
acquired new, specific, different qualities. In regard to the
primordial movements of the atoms, out of which these endowed
compounds grew, Epikurus differed from Demokritus who supposed the
atoms originally to move with an indefinite variety of directions and
velocities, rotatory as well as rectilineal; whereas Epikurus
maintained that the only original movement common to all atoms was
one and the same--in the direction of gravity straight down, and all
with equal velocity in the infinite void. But it occurred to him
that, upon this hypothesis only, there could never occur any
collisions or combinations of the atoms--nothing but continued and
unchangeable parallel lines. Accordingly he modified it by saying
that the line of descent was not strictly rectilinear, but that each
atom deflected a little from the straight line, each in its own
direction and degree; so that it became possible to assume
collisions, resiliences, adhesions, combinations, among them, as it
had been possible under the variety of original movements ascribed to
them by Demokritus. The opponents of Epikurus derided this auxiliary
hypothesis, affirming that he invented the individual deflection of
each atom without assigning any cause, and only because he was
perplexed by the mystery of man's freewill. But Epikurus was not more
open to attack on this ground than other physical philosophers. Most
of them (except perhaps the most consistent of the Stoic fatalists)
believed that some among the phenomena of the universe occurred in
regular and predictable sequence, while others were essentially
irregular and unpredictable: each philosopher devised his hypothesis,
and recognized some fundamental principle, to explain the latter
class of phenomena as well as the former; thus, Plato admitted an
invincible erratic necessity, Aristotle introduced Chance and
Spontaneity, Demokritus multiplied indefinitely the varieties of
atomic movements. The hypothetical deflection alleged by Epikurus was
his way, not more unwarranted than the others, of providing a
fundamental principle for the unpredictable phenomena of the
universe. Among these are the volitional manifestations of men and
animals; but there are many others besides, and there is no ground
for believing that what is called the mystery of Free-Will (_i. e._,
the question whether volition is governed by motives, acting upon a
given state of the mind and body) was at all peculiarly present to
his mind. Whatever theory may be adopted on this point, it is certain
that the movements of an individual man or animal are not exclusively
determined by the general law of gravitation, or by another cause
extrinsic to himself; but to a great degree by his own separate
volition, which is often imperfectly knowable beforehand and
therefore not predictable. For these and many other phenomena,
Epikurus provided a fundamental principle in his supplementary
hypothesis of atomic deflection; and indeed not for these only, but
also for the questions of opponents, how there could ever be any
coalition between the atoms, if all followed only one single law of
movement--rectilineal descent with equal velocity. Epikurus rejected
the inexorable and all-comprehensive fatalism contained in the
theories of some Stoics, though seemingly not construed in its full
application even by them. He admitted a limited range of empire to
Chance, or phenomena essentially irregular. But he maintained that
the will, far from being among the phenomena essentially irregular,
is under the influence of motives; for no man can insist more
strenuously than he does (see the letter to Menoekeus) on the
complete power of philosophy--if the student could be made to feel
its necessity and desire the attainment of it, so as to meditate and
engrain within himself sound views about the gods, death, and human
life generally--to mould our volitions and character in a manner
conformable to the exigencies of virtue and happiness.
All true belief, according to Epikurus, rested ultimately upon the
impressions of sense, upon our internal feelings, and upon our
correct apprehension of the meaning of terms. He did not suppose the
significance of language to come by convention, but to be an
inspiration of Nature, different among different people. The facts of
sense were in themselves beyond all question. But truth, though
founded upon these evidences, included various inferences, more than
sense could directly testify. Even the two capital points of the
Epikurean physical philosophy--Atoms and Void--were inferences from
sense, and not capable of direct attestation. It was in these
inferences, and in the superstructure built upon sense, that error
was so frequently imposed upon us. We ought to test all affirmations
or dogmas by the evidence of sensible phenomena; looking therein, if
possible, for some positive grounds in support of them, but at any
rate assuring ourselves that there were no grounds in contradiction
of them, or, if there were such, rejecting the dogmas at once. Out of
the particular impressions of sense, when often repeated, remembered,
and compared, there grew certain general notions or anticipations
([Greek: prolê/pseis]), which were applied to interpret or illustrate
any new case when it arose. These general notions were not inborn or
intuitive, but gradually formed (as Aristotle and the Stoics also
conceived them) out of frequent remembrances and association.
Besides those conclusions which could be fully proved by the
evidentiary data just enumerated, Epikurus recognized admissible
hypotheses, which awaited farther evidence confirmative or refutative
([Greek: to\ pro/smenon]), and also other matters occult or as yet
unexplained ([Greek: ta\ a)/dêla]). Along with the intermediate or
half-explained class, he reckoned those in which plurality of causes
was to be invoked. A given effect might result from any one out of
two, three, or more different causes, and there was often no
counter-evidence of sense to exclude either of them in any particular
case. This plural explanation ([Greek: to\ pleonachô=s]) was not so
complete or satisfactory as the singular ([Greek: to\ monachô=s]);
but it was often the best that we could obtain, and was quite
sufficient, by showing a possible physical agency, to rescue the mind
from those terrors of ignorance, which drove men to imagine
visitations of the gods.
Epikurus agreed with Demokritus in believing that external objects
produced their impressions on our senses by projecting thin images,
outlines of their own shapes. He thought that the air was peopled
with such images, which passed through it and still more through the
infinite vacuum beyond it with prodigious velocity. Many of them
became commingled, dissipated, recombined, during the transit, so
that, when they reached us, the impressions produced were not
conformable to any real object; hence the phenomena of dreams,
madness, and the various delusions of waking men.
In setting forth the criterion of truth, Epikurus insisted chiefly
upon the fundamental groundwork--particular facts of sense, as the
data for proving or disproving general affirmations; and he had the
merit of calling attention to refutative data as well as to
probative. But, respecting the process of passing from these
particulars to true generalities and avoiding the untrue, we can make
out no clear idea from his writings that remain: his great work on
Physical Philosophy is lost. It is certain that he disregarded the
logical part of the process--the systematic study of propositions,
and their relations of consistency with one another--which had made
so prodigious a stride during his early years under Aristotle and
Theophrastus. We can, indeed, detect in his remaining sentences one
or two of those terms which Aristotle had stamped as technical in
Logic; but he discouraged as useless all the verbal teaching and
discussion of his day--all grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic, beyond
the lowest minimum. He disapproved of the poets as promulgators of
mischievous fables and prejudices, the rhetoricians as furnishing
weapons for the misleading career of political ambition, the
dialecticians as wasting their time in useless puzzles. None of them
were serviceable in promoting either the tranquillity of the mind, or
the happiness of life, or the acquisition of truth. He himself
composed a great number of treatises and epistles, on subjects of
ethics and philosophy; but he is said to have written in haste,
without taking time or trouble to correct his compositions. By the
Alexandrine critic, Aristophanes of Byzantium, his style was censured
as unpolished; yet it is declared to have been simple, unaffected,
and easily understood. This last predicate is hardly applicable to
the three epistles which alone remain from his pen; but those
epistles are intended as brief abstracts of doctrine, on topics which
he had already treated at length in formal works; and it is not easy
to combine clearness with brevity.
VI.
THE STOICS--A FRAGMENT.
The Stoics were one of the four sects of philosophy recognized and
conspicuous at Athens during the three centuries preceding the
Christian era and during the century or more following. Among these
four sects, the most marked antithesis of ethical dogma was between
the Stoics and the Epikureans.
The Stoics agreed with the Peripatetics (anterior to Epikurus, not
specially against _him_) that the first principle of nature is (not
pleasure or relief from pain, but) Self-preservation or Self-love; in
other words, the natural appetite or tendency of all creatures is, to
preserve their existing condition with its inherent capacities, and
to keep clear of destruction or disablement. This appetite (they
said) manifests itself in little children before any pleasure or pain
is felt, and is moreover a fundamental postulate, pre-supposed in all
desires of particular pleasures, as well as in all aversions to
particular pains. We begin by loving our own vitality; and we come,
by association, to love what promotes or strengthens our vitality; we
hate destruction or disablement, and come (by secondary association)
to hate whatever produces that effect.
This doctrine associated, and brought under one view, what was common
to man not merely with the animal, but also with the vegetable world;
a plant was declared to have an impulse or tendency to maintain
itself, without feeling pain or pleasure. Aristotle (in the tenth
Book of the Ethica) says that he will not determine whether we love
life for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of life; for
he affirms the two to be essentially yoked together and inseparable:
pleasure is the consummation of our vital manifestations. The
Peripatetics, after him, put pleasure down to a lower level, as
derivative and accidental. The Stoics went farther in the same
direction--possibly from antithesis against the growing school of
Epikurus.
The primary _officium_ (in a larger sense than our word duty) of man
is (they said) to keep himself in the State of Nature; the second or
derivative _officium_ is to keep to such things as are according to
nature, and to avert those that are contrary to nature; our gradually
increasing experience enables as to discriminate the two. The youth
learns, as he grows up, to value bodily accomplishments, mental
cognitions and judgments, good conduct towards those around him,--as
powerful aids towards keeping up that state of nature. When his
experience is so far enlarged as to make him aware of the order and
harmony of nature and human society, and to impress upon him the
comprehension of this great _idéal_, his emotions as well as his
reason becomes absorbed by it. He recognizes this as the only true
Bonum or Honestum, to which all other desirable things are referable;
as the only thing desirable for itself and in its own nature. He
drops or dismisses all these _prima naturæ_ that he had begun by
desiring. He no longer considers any of them as worthy of being
desired in itself, or for its own sake.
While, therefore, (according to Peripatetics as well as Stoics) the
love of self and of preserving one's own vitality and activity is the
primary element, intuitive and connate, to which all rational
preference (_officium_) was at first referred, they thought it not
the less true that in process of time, by experience, association,
and reflection, there grows up in the mind a grand acquired sentiment
or notion, a new and later light, which extinguishes and puts out of
sight the early beginning. It was important to distinguish the feeble
and obscure elements from the powerful and brilliant after-growth;
which indeed was fully realized only in chosen minds, and in them
hardly before old age. This idea, when once formed in the mind, was
The Good--the only thing worthy of desire for its own sake. The
Stoics called it the only good, being sufficient in itself for
happiness; other things being not good, nor necessary to happiness,
but simply preferable or advantageous when they could be had: the
Peripatetics recognized it as the first and greatest good, but said
also that it was not sufficient in itself; there were two other
inferior varieties of good, of which something must be had as
complementary (what the Stoics called _præposita_ or _sumenda_).[1]
Thus the Stoics said about the origin of the Idea of Bonum or
Honestum, much the same as what Aristotle says about ethical Virtue.
It is not implanted in us by nature; but we have at birth certain
initial tendencies and capacities, which, if aided by association and
training, enable us (and that not in all cases) to acquire it.
[Footnote 1: Aristotle and the Peripatetics held that there were
_tria genera bonorum_: (1) Those of the mind (_mens sana_); (2) Those
of the body; and (3) External advantages. The Stoics altered this
theory by saying that only the first of the three was _bonum_; the
others were merely _præposita_ or _sumenda_. The opponents of the
Stoics contended that this was an alteration in words rather than in
substance.
The earlier Stoics laid it down that there were no graduating marks
below the level of wisdom: all shortcomings were on a par. Good was a
point, Evil was a point; there were gradations in the _præposita_ or
_sumenda_ (none of which were good), and in the _rejecta_ or
_rejicienda_ (none of which were evil), but there was no more or less
good.]
A distinction was made by Epictetus and other Stoics between things
in our power and things not in our power. In our power are our
opinions and notions about objects, and all our affections, desires,
and aversions: not in our power are our bodies, wealth, honour, rank,
authority, &c., and their opposites; though, in regard to these last,
it is in our power to _think_ of them as unimportant. With this
distinction we may connect the arguments between the Stoics and their
opponents as to what is now called the Freedom of the Will. But we
must first begin by distinguishing the two questions. By things in
our power, the Stoics meant things that we could do or acquire if we
willed: by things not in our power, they meant things that we could
not do or acquire if we willed. In both cases, the volition was
assumed as a fact: the question what determined it, or whether it was
non-determined, _i. e._, self-determining, was not raised in the
antithesis. But it was raised in other discussions between the Stoic
theorist Chrysippus, and various opponents. These opponents denied
that volition was determined by motives, and cited the cases of equal
conflicting motives (what is known as the Ass of Buridan) as proving
that the soul includes in itself, and exerts, a special supervenient
power of deciding action in one way or the other--a power not
determined by any causal antecedent, but self-originating, and
belonging to the class of agency that Aristotle recognizes under the
denomination of automatic, spontaneous (or essentially irregular and
unpredictable). Chrysippus replied by denying not only the reality of
this supervenient force said to be inherent in the soul, but also the
reality of all that Aristotle called automatic or spontaneous agency
generally. Chrysippus said that every movement was determined by
antecedent motives; that in cases of equal conflict the exact
equality did not long continue, because some new but slight motive
slipped in unperceived and turned the scale on one side or the
other.[2] Here, we see, the question now known as the Freedom of the
Will is discussed, and Chrysippus declares against freedom, affirming
that volition is always determined by motives.
[Footnote 2: See Plutarch, De Stoicorum Repugnantiis, xxiii. p.
1045.]
But we also see that, while declaring this opinion, Chrysippus does
not employ the terms Necessity or Freedom of the Will; neither did
his opponents, so far as we can see: they had a different and less
misleading phrase. By freedom, Chrysippus and the Stoics meant the
freedom of doing what a man willed, if he willed it. A man is free as
to the thing that is in his power, when he wills it: he is not free
as to what is not in his power, under the same supposition. The
Stoics laid great stress on this distinction. They pointed out how
much it is really in a man's power to transform or discipline his own
mind--in the way of controlling or suppressing some emotions,
generating or encouraging others, forming new intellectual
associations, &c.; how much a man could do in these ways, if he
willed it, and if he went through the lessons, habits of conduct, and
**meditations, suitable to produce such an effect. The Stoics
strove to create in a man's mind the volitions appropriate for
such mental discipline, by depicting the beneficial consequences
resulting from it, and the misfortune and shame inevitable, if the
mind were not so disciplined. Their purpose was to strengthen the
governing reason of his mind, and to enthrone it as a fixed habit and
character, which would control by counter suggestions the impulse
arising at each special moment--particularly all disturbing terrors
or allurements. This, in their view, is a free mind; not one wherein
volition is independent of all motive, but one wherein the
susceptibility to different motives is tempered by an ascendant
reason, so as to give predominance to the better motive against the
worse. One of the strongest motives that they endeavoured to enforce,
was the prudence and dignity of bringing our volitions into harmony
with the schemes of Providence; which (they said) were always
arranged with a view to the happiness of the Kosmos on the whole. The
bad man, whose volitions conflict with these schemes, is always
baulked of his expectations, and brought at last against his will to
see things carried by an over-ruling force, with aggravated pain and
humiliation to himself: while the good man, who resigns himself to
them from the first, always escapes with less pain, and often without
any at all. As a portion of their view concerning Providence it may
here be mentioned that the earlier Stoics, Zeno and Chrysippus,
entertained high reverence for the divination, prophecy, and omens
that were generally current in the ancient world. They considered
that these were the methods whereby the gods were graciously pleased
to make known beforehand revelations of their foreordained purposes.
Herein lay one among the marked points of contrast between Stoics and
Epikureans.
We have thus seen that in regard to the doctrine called in modern
times the Freedom of the Will (_i.e._, that volitions are
self-originating and unpredictable), the Stoic theorists not only
denied it, but framed all their Ethics upon the assumption of the
contrary. This same assumption of the contrary, indeed, was made also
by Sokrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Epikurus; in short, by all the
ethical teachers of antiquity. All of them believed that volitions
depended on causes; that, under the ordinary conditions of men's
minds, the causes that volitions generally depended upon are often
misleading and sometimes ruinous; but that, by proper stimulation
from without and meditation within, the rational causes of volition
might be made to overrule the impulsive. Plato, Aristotle, Epikurus,
not less than the Stoics, wished to create new fixed habits and a new
type of character. They differed, indeed, on the question what the
proper type of character was; but each of them aimed at the same
general end--a new type of character, regulating the grades of
susceptibility to different motives. And the purpose of all and each
of these moralists precludes the theory of free-will, _i.e._, the
theory that our volitions are self-originating and unpredictable.
While the Epikureans declined, as much as possible, interference in
public affairs, the Stoic philosophers urged men to the duties of
active citizenship.[3] Chrysippus even said that the life of
philosophical contemplation (such as Aristotle preferred and
accounted godlike) was to be placed on the same level with the life
of pleasure; though Plutarch observes that neither Chrysippus nor
Zeno ever meddled personally with any public duty: both of them
passed their lives in lecturing and writing. The truth is that both
of them were foreigners residing at Athens, and at a time when Athens
was dependent on foreign princes. Accordingly, neither Zeno nor
Chrysippus had any sphere of political action open to them: they
were, in this respect, like Epictetus afterwards, but in a position
quite different from Seneca, the preceptor of Nero, who might hope to
influence the great imperial power of Rome, and from Marcus
Antoninus, who held that imperial power in his own hands.
[Footnote 3: Tacitus says of the Stoics (Ann. xiv. 57): 'Stoicorum
secta, quæ turbidos et negotiorum appetentes facit.']