Cp) “ “ mae i ee O45} Ζ΄. © bi ae Se oe m Ba ΚΞ IH ΩΣ ΠΩ < 2B 41 ὦ - mS Ξ ae os mad Fone $95e01e0 Tat i ΠῚ ili II ALISH3SAINN VWIHOLDIA GREEK [THINKERS A HislORY OF ANCIENT. PHILOSOPHY By THEODOR GOMPERZ PROFESSOR EMERITUS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF VIENNA, AND MEMBER OF THE IMPERIAL ACADEMY ; HON. LL.D., DUBLIN AND CAMBRIDGE; HON. PH.D., KONIGSBERG CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE BRITISH ACADEMY FOR THE PROMOTION OF PHILOSOPHICAL, HISTORICAL, AND PHILOLOGICAL STUDIES AUTHORIZED EDITION VOLUME IV TRANSLATED BY GG. BERRY, -BA-. BALLIOL COLLEGE, OXFORD LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET 1912 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES. DEC 13 1994 Co the MEMORY OF MY EARLY DEPARTED BROTHERS KARE AND RU DOLE (1829-1851) (1830-1851) ΘΑ ΤῊ VOLUME PREFACE. ee OH IN bringing to a close the publication of this work, begun more than a decade and a half ago, I find myself compelled to justify certain modifications of my original plans. The Preface to the second volume has already called attention to the impracticability, as it turned out, of including in that volume (Vols. II. and III. in the English Edition) the treatment of Aristotle and his successors. As the work progressed, however, a still more fundamental change of design has forced itself upon me. It became necessary to restrict the work, which had now reached its allotted number of volumes, within narrower limits of subject- matter. At the outset it had been my desire to carry the history of Greek philosophy down to the beginning of our era; but gradually it became manifest to me that with the first quarter of the third century before Christ a more appropriate terminus would be attained. This was an epoch at which the development of the special sciences reached a height which essentially changed their relations to philosophy. Though here and there an isolated writer appeared who took the whole of learning for his pro- vince, such as the Stoic Posidonius (first century B.C.), we are entitled to affirm that on the whole philosophy and the special sciences henceforth pursued separate paths. Universal science—the main object of this work—dis- appeared as such; the centre of gravity of scientific progress was transferred to the subordinate branches (cf. pp. 459 and 506). Vill PREFACE. The chronological limit thus indicated has on the whole been reached. The matter still wanting to its complete attainment, the description of the beginnings of the Stoic and Epicurean schools, and of the Sceptic movement, the author hopes to supply in a separate book, The Philosophy of the Hellenistic Age, in which anticipatory glances will also be cast upon the later periods. TH, GOMPERZ: VIENNA, May, 1909. On August 29, 1912, when the last sheets of this volume were passing through the press, Dr. Theodor Gomperz died, almost at the moment when he had finished the revision of the final proofs. It is matter for sincere regret that he did not live to see the publication of this English edition, on which he bestowed infinite pains, but which has been long delayed, owing to circumstances over which neither the author nor the publisher had control. I am informed by his representatives that at the time of his death, Dr. Gomperz had not been able to make any considerable progress with the writing of the con- templated volume on the Philosophy of the Hellenistic Age, referred to in the last sentence of the foregoing Preface, and that therefore there is now no hope of its appearing. JOHN MURRAY, 19th Sept., 1912. CONTENTS: BOOK VI. ARISTOTLE AND HIS SUCCESSORS. CHAPTER I. THE OLD ACADEMY. PAGE PAGE $1 Tey S53 12 § : 5 | 57 13 CHAPTER II. THE LIFE OF ARISTOTLE. CHAPTER III. ARISTOTLE, THE MAN AND THE AUTHOR. §1 τὸς ae nate oa 27 708 ae 500 ve aoe. ae 8 2 ἘΠ ἜΝ on Nee 129 CHAPTER IV. ARISTOTLE’S CATEGORIES. 81 ἘΣ as aC pee 0.839 aes ἊΣ τὰ gem At 82 eas ἘΠ τ δ 30 CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. ARISTOTLE AS LOGICIAN AND DIALECTICIAN, PAGE PAGE 44 | §3 25, BOC ae Rot ce5O 40 | §4 Ὧν a τ pty CHAPIER Vi- THE PLATONIST AND THE ASCLEPIAD. Go ES e “0 eer ae a OO 58 CHAPTER VII. THE ARISTOTELIAN DOCTRINE OF THE ELEMENTS. 62 | §3 Boe AOC "ΗΝ 5st ΘΔ, 63 | §4 aoe πε ae ee 400 CHAPTER VIII. THE PRINCIPLES OF PROOF. 69 | $3 ace Sac Καὶ eT S 72 | CHAPTER IX. THE ARISTOTELIAN ONTOLOGY. Tal eA aA Ἣν oe Bue 85 80 | ὃς ἜΣ aes ΤᾺ Be 58 83! 86 ΤῈ er τ ἘΠ O 2 CHAPTER X. OF CHANCE AND NECESSITY. : 95 , §4 ποτ ΠΝ 96} ὃ5 SHE ss = es 101 eer) ken 97 | §6 ane Bs ae w+ τοῦ CONTENTS, ΧΙ CHAP TER. ΧΙ: ARISTOTLE AS AN INVESTIGATOR OF NATURE (INORGANIC NATURE). PAGE PAGE δι 108 | §7 ἴξιν ee ἊΝ a § 2 110 | §8 ae ee, ἊΣ eos ©6122 §3 114 | §9 ΞΡ Sp 500 ὙΠ Ε121 §4 115 | § 10 bot Aer oer eee 125 §5 116 | § 41 ae ἐς τ ate 127 § 6 ΤΙΣ δ 12 ἐμὴ ᾿: τι πα ZO CHAPTER XII. ARISTOTLE AS AN INVESTIGATOR OF NATURE (CONTINUATION: ORGANIC NATURE). I 130 | ΕΣ: ἐν a rE 190 2 10 80 τ ἜΝ ae nee 141 5 135 | §7 . 143 4 137 un «20 rm CHAPTER XIII. ARISTOTLE AS AN INVESTIGATOR OF NATURE (CONTINUATION: THE SYSTEMATIST, THE COMPARATIVE ANATOMIST AND PHYSIOLOGIST). δι 146 | $7 a he ee ΡΠ §2 147 | §8 ee ee eer 10 $3 148 | §9 τ: ἘΣ τῇ ores $4 16 16S 10) ee oe ecg $5 SoG hl ee Ot §6 154 | CHAPTER XIV. ARISTOTLE AS AN INVESTIGATOR OF NATURE (CONCLUSION : EMBRYOLOGY). $1 ἘΠῚ ay ce =. 105.) 94 oe ΠΕ ὙΠ ἜΣ 160 8 2 ὌΠ ἘΝ, See 107-1865 es τς δὸς ee L771 Go ies ΧΙ Tr QP MP «Οὐ Mr LP Ambo nN = “na nN "» τον Un Mr 9 oN " CONTENTS. CHAPTER XV. ARISTOTLE’S DOCTRINE OF THE SOUL. PAGE 175 | ὃ 7 176 | §8 177 | §9 179 | § 10 180 | § 11 181 CHAPTER XVI. ARISTOTLE’S DOCTRINE OF THE SOUL (CONTINUATION: THE PROBLEM OF WILL). 192 | §3 195 CHAPTER XVII. ARISTOTLE’S DOCTRINE OF THE SOUL (THE DOCTRINE OF NOUS, OR REASON: CONCLUSION). CHAPTER XVIII. ARISTOTLE’S THEOLOGY. 208 | §5 209 | §6 22 1 7 213 | §8 CHAPTER XIX. ARISTOTLE’S THEOLOGY (CONTINUATION AND CONCLUSION: ARISTOTLE’S ASTRONOMY). 223 | $5 225 | § 6 227 | 87 229 | δ ὃ PAGE 183 185. 186 187 189 196 203 205 206 216 217 219 220 Or Mi Mr «οὐ ὍΠΩΣ ΙΝ " MOM ὦ: ΣΝ " fon " τῶ" ἐσ: a “9 ὍΛΟΣ Ν " 5 εοὐ .ὁ59 «οὐ Ta Mr WB N= CONTENTS. ΧΗΣ CHAPTER XX. ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS. PAGE | PAGE 240 | $5 247 241 | 86 ε BE τ πε 2AO 244 | 87 Soe ae SBC eee OL 246 | §8 oe, 253 CHAPTER XXI. ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS (CONTINUATION: JUSTICE). 257, 54 ἀν ae ἘΣ 202 250. 8.5 Ae aoe τ eee 202 201. ὃ6 306 ae a pee 205 CHAPTER XXII. ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS (CONTINUATION: THE INTELLECTUAL VIRTUES AND WEAKNESS OF WILL). 267 | $5 τ ΝΣ ΣΝ ay yl 269 | § 6 Suk sac ἘΣ 76270 272Ὲ 8 7 Bos ἘΣ ἘΠ. 270 275 | 88 282 CHAPTER XXIII. ARISTOTLE’S ETIIICS (CONTINUATION : FRIENDSHIP). 284 | §5 “ιν ane ae por 200 286 | $6 ee et vee 20k 286 | §7 ᾿ το: a 209 288 CHAPTER XXIV. ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS (THE LAST BOOK). 296 , §4 300 207 | 35 302 298 | §6 303 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXV. ARISTOTLE’S ETHICS (CONCLUSION: THE DOCTRINE OF PLEASURE). PAGE PAGE §1 eae τ Soe e305 § 3 we Age ὅθο ἐπ 200 8 2 ae 0c boc soe eter CHAPTER XXVI. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (THE PRELIMINARY STUDY, THE STRUCTURE OF THE WORK, AND THE INTRODUCTION TO IT). §1 311 | §4 Ὁ es Hb a3 LO § 2 312 | §5 ae Ὡς ΤΡ §3 213168 6 Sat 506 306 noo 220 CHAPTER XXVII. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (THE QUESTION OF SLAVERY, GREEKS AND BARBARIANS, BANAUSOI). §1 500 Soc BA ἘΠ 322! §5 es ag ν᾿ noe. 3920 2 Bee Abe . τς 224. 8:6 see ae τε, Ὁ 151 §3 ate ῥοῦ ase oe 3200 877 333 $4 noc 5dG ee so 2), tS 334 CHAPTER XXVIII. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (THE CONFLICT OF FORMS OF STATE). 81 Ἢ: ane ἘΣ ἢ 533. “80 ae ἘΞ ΤΣ oo 570 $2 Sor ape bbc + 339. 87 οὐ ae ne sos 346 8.3 ma 500 "ἧς «+ 340 88 rio not πῶς eos 247 84 ΕΝ OBE 508 vs 3241 89 0 “6. 906 ... 349 δ 5 πο Ὁ tee nod. 5452. CHAPTER XXIX. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (MONARCHY). δι 351 | §4 ἘΠ oe en γος 8 2 BUC 2. ὃ 5 “τὼ ἽΝ 5c pee 350 §3 vee eee 354 MOmmran Mme ON "- CONTENTS. XV CHAPTER XXX. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (POLITICAL STATICS). PAGE PAGE 358 | 86 oe ἊΣ i τ 304 359 | §7 30 ἘΣ a se» 305 360 | §8 50 nie tie 5.366 362 | §9 τ aes ἫΝ 307 363 CHAPTER ΧΧΧΙ, ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (POLITICAL DYNAMICS). 879... Ὁ 378 372, §7 380 3724 §8 382 375. §9 384 7. 8 τὸ 385 CHAPTER XXXII. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (CRITICISM OF POLITICAL IDEALS AND IDEAL STATES). BOT 3 Sor S06 es Bon ate) 388 | §4 ae Soc XC ἐν Stee) CHAPTER XXXIII. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (THE PHILOSOPHER’S POLITICAL IDEAL). 393 §4 397 nee 395 ὃ 5 398 oes 260 S00 ἘΣ 300. | CHAPTER XXXIV. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF THE STATE (QUESTIONS OF REPRODUCTION AND EDUCATION). 400 | §3 ee S60 Ac 2} 402 401 Xvi reer MUNN mT [9] eal M&W Ὁ & PMN Ty mph WN = §1 $3 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXV. ARISTOTLE’S THEORY OF ART. PAGE | 101. § 6 405 | §7 407 | §8 408 | §9 410 CHAPTER XXXVI. ARISTOTLE AND RHETORIC. 420 | §6 421 | §7 422 | §8 424 | §9 425 | § 10 CHAPTER XXXVIL ARISTOTLE AND RHETORIC (CONTINUATION : THE EMOTIONS AND TYPES OF CHARACTER). 435 | $4 436 | ὃ 5 439 | § 6 CHAPTER XXXVIII. ARISTOTLE AND RHETORIC (CONTINUATION AND CONCLUSION). 445 | § 6 447 | §7 448 | 88 450 | §9 450 | § 10 CHAPTER XXXIX. THEOPHRASTUS OF ERESUS. PAGE 41| 413 415 418 427 428 430 432 433 441 442 443 465 467 468 CONTENTS. XVIi CHAPTHR: Ob. THEOPHRASTUS OF ERESUS (CONTINUATION : THEOPHRASTUS AS BOTANIST). PAGE | PAGE Ne 471 | §3 oe ae oe 476 §2 474 | §4 a ἜΝ ae ATO CHAPTER Xr THEOPHRASTUS OF ERESUS (CONTINUATION : THE DELINEATOR OF CHARACTERS). $1 ie ae “δὰ - 480 | §4 ey Ἐπ ae τ 485 ὃ 2 Εἰ: re Ἧι SRO lis ὃς a te τὰ τὸ 150 823 Ὁ oe AB ΠΕ 287 CHAPTER XLII. THEOPHRASTUS OF ERESUS (CONTINUATION AND CONCLUSION). §1 490 84 ᾿Σ oe — 2 404 § 2 491 | § 5 Gh ee ee AGG § 3 492 | CHAPTER XLII STRATON OF LAMPSACUS. δι 499 | ὃ 5 ἜΠΗ a το Σ §2 500 | 86 ρος τοῦ § 3 sor | §7 506 §4 502 NOTES AND ADDITIONS _... ons et a es eS ἸΝΌΕΣ πὸ VOU ING re ee τ τ81 Ge Bie er rN Kee RS: BOOK VE ARISTOTLE AND HIS SUCCESSORS. “Ts enim ut est diligentissimus in cognoscendis rebus singulis _ quarum ingentem prorsus et prope incredibilem animo complexus est scientiam, ut est acutus et ingeniosus in redigendis his singulis rebus ad summas, quas distinxit, omnium entium categorias: ita quum de iaciendis altissimis doctrine fundamentis et de confir- mandis interque se conciliandis principiis agitur, plurimum relinquit dubitationis.,—-HERMANN BONITZ. CHAPTER. I. THE OLD ACADEMY. I. PLATO’S successors drew their sustenance from the heritage of his later years. The freshness and vigour— the youthful vigour, we had almost said-——of the great philosopher’s old age manifested itself in impulses which for well-nigh a century dominated the activities of his school. Even within this period, it is true, we can trace the operation of that law, fundamental for the development of the Platonic school, by which the master’s different phases of thought enjoyed successive supremacy. But it was not till near its close that any real change took place. From that point onward the teaching of Plato’s old age ceased to inspire the labours of those who suc- ceeded to the headship of his school. The dialectics of refutation, the Elenctic primarily due to Socrates, awoke to new life after long repression; and its reappearance VOLES LV, B 2 GREEK THINKERS. marks the beginning of the Middle Academy, which took its rise with the Sceptic Arcesilaus. Plato committed the direction of the Academy to his sister’s son Speusippus, who held it for eight years (347- 339). The figure of the nephew is to some extent lost in the shadow of his mighty uncle; in ancient as in modern times his significance has perhaps been rated unduly low. It lies, if we are not mistaken, in his having been the first to carry forward the line of thought entered upon in the “ Sophist ” and the “Statesman.” His chief work consisted of ten books on “Similarities” (Ὅμοια) in which, following the thread of analogy, he surveyed the whole realm of plants and animals, endeavouring to set like by the side of like, while separating those organisms whose affinity rested on appearance only, and not on truth. Expression is here given to the same classificatory instinct which marks the two Platonic dialogues just named, and which attained its richest development in Aristotle. Speusippus may thus be regarded as Aristotle’s prede- cessor. A further link between the two is the strength of their common interest in the whole length and breadth of the world of experience, not least of all in the sphere of human affairs—a disposition of mind which brought Speusippus into close relations with wide circles of Syra- cusan society, and led Timonides to address to him his narrative of Dion’s expedition (cf. Vol. III. p. 138). This reinforcement of the empirical sense may be regarded as the leading feature of his thought. Going a little further into particulars, we may say that close study of the organic world ripened in his mind the idea of development. This is plain from what we are told by Aristotle. Speusippus refused to set the principle of the Good at the head of the world-process, and justified his refusal by pointing to individual plants and animals which in the course of their existence advance from a less to a more perfect state. He thus came to discern, in the prime cause of the universe, a formative principle akin to the vital forces of the organic world, and by this attitude drew upon himself the taunt of atheism. SPEUSIPPUS AND THE “NATURAL SYSTEM.” 3 With this empirical and inductive tendency there went (the reverse side of the medal) a renunciation of every kind of dialectic except the purely classificatory ; nor did this kind escape profound modification. No reverence for his great uncle deterred Speusippus from rejecting the Platonic doctrine of Ideas. For all labours in the field of definition he showed as little respect as Antisthenes. Like the latter, he was manifestly unwilling to admit the distinction between essential and accidental attributes. “He who would define one thing rightly must know every- thing ; for the definition of the one thing presupposes a knowledge of all the differences between it and everything else.” In this connexion we gain a welcome glimpse into the peculiar character of his studies in natural history. Evidence which is above suspicion ascribes to him the rejection of “subdivision and definitions.” This rejection, however, rested solely on the above objection to the possi- bility of adequate definition—an objection warranted by no less a person than Eudemus. The conclusion which we draw is as follows. Speusippus certainly did not abstain from any and every attempt at classification. So much is clear from the title of his main work, already referred to, as well as from the remnants, scanty as they are, of his writings. What he rejected was, as we infer, not classifica- tion at large, but that division of natural objects which is based on definitions of classes. He was, in other words, an opponent of what is now called technical or artificial classification, and the first advocate of that mode of forming groups which is called by antithesis the “natural system.” He would have sided with Bernard de Jussieu against Linneus. Of this method, triumphant in our own day, the following account has been given by Whewell, in his “ History of Scientific Ideas ” :— ‘‘ The class is steadily fixed, though not precisely limited ; it is given, though not circumscribed; it is determined, not by a boundary line without, but by a central point within; not by what it strictly excludes, but by what it eminently includes ; by an example, not a precept; in short, instead of Definition we haye a Type for our Director,” 4 GREEK THINKERS, In the fragments of Speusippus’ work such terms as “resembling,” “like,” “similar,” are of constant recurrence, while there is no trace of sharp delimitation or rigid definition. This agrees well with the conclusion stated above; but when we come to the application in detail of the fundamental principles, we are left nearly as much in the dark as with regard to the arrangement of the subject-matter. Lastly, our hypothesis is confirmed by a book-title: “On the Patterns or Types of Genera and Species.” In his endeavours after a natural system, in his opposition to the excessive use of twofold subdivision, Speusippus is a forerunner of Aristotle. Dichotomy, it is true, had already been abandoned by Plato in the “Statesman.” Close study of the endless multiplicity of organic structures could not possibly have been favourable to the hypothesis which identifies duality or the principle of differentiation with the principle of evil. We are thus not astonished to find the nephew here again in disaccord with the uncle. On the other hand, we cannot but be surprised by the records which represent Speusippus as nearer in some respects to the Pythagoreans than Plato himself. A great deal in these records is untrustworthy or inconclusive, but as much as this seems certain—Speu- sippus raised numbers to the rank of prime causes of things ; like the Pythagoreans, he carried into detail the analogies between geometrical and arithmetical relations, and among other things raised a hymn of praise which has quite a Pythagorean ring to the number Ten. But considerations which are not far to seek soon diminish our surprise. Plato’s quest for fundamental principles, which led him into speculations on numbers, started from the point at which the Ideas passed into the background of his thought. We are thus prepared to find the same tendency accentuated in the work of a pupil, who not merely sub- ordinated but abandoned the Ideas. For in abandoning them he did not at the same time lose hold of that fundamental premiss of the Platonic epistemology accord- ing to which knowledge would be impossible if there were THE PERSONALITY OF XENOCRATES. 5 no entities transcending the world of sense. It must, more- over, be set down to the credit of Speusippus that he made no total surrender to what may be called the analogism of he Pythagoreans, but, in relation both to this and to the corresponding tendency in Plato, put forth by no means contemptible efforts towards sharper distinction of ideas. Thus, for him, the point was not identical with unity, but only of similar nature; nor, again, did he identify reason with unity and the good, but distinguished it from them as something “specifically unique.” His numerous ethical writings exhibit him as moderate in his claims upon life and free from visionary extravagance. While reserving the highest place to the virtues, he did not deny all value to health, wealth, and other external goods. 2. The figure of Xenocrates is presented to us in less shadowy outline. No favourite of the Graces; needing the spur, not the curb—such are the expressions with which Plato himself described the ungracious, reserved, somewhat heavy personality of his disciple. It was only by a “bare majority” that the students elected him head of the Academy after the death of Speusippus. To-day hardly even a minority of competent judges would venture to assign him the rank of a great original thinker. And yet his scholarchate, which lasted a quarter of a century (339-314), must not be regarded as wholly without signifi- cance for the destinies of the Platonic school. An ingenious essayist has observed that among princely houses those only have established themselves permanently in which the founder was followed by an heir who proved a diligent custodian of the newly acquired patrimony, and administered it for a fair space of time. In philosophic dynasties the same rule seems to hold good. Thus Theophrastus was such an heir in the Aristotelian school and Cleanthes in the Stoic; in the school of Plato (after the short reign of Speusippus) a similar part was played by Xenocrates of Chalcedon, whose fidelity to the master was greater than even that of his own sister's son. It is true that in one respect, doubtless to the advantage of the 6 GREEK THINKERS. school, he trod other paths than those of the founder. The alien settler in Athens found the democratic con- stitution of his adopted home more congenial than it had been to the aristocratically-minded descendant of Attic kings. He enjoyed the confidence of the people, and after the unfortunate ending of the Lamian war was elected a member of the embassy which treated with the Macedonian regent, Antipater. During the occupation of Munychia by a Macedonian garrison (B.C. 322) he showed his patriotic grief by omitting the usual sacrifices to the Muses at the Academy. Lastly, he refused the grant of citizenship, offered him by Demades, on the ground that it would be shameful for him to accept a share in a constitution, imposed by Macedonian lances, to resist whose introduction the people had deputed him to Antipater. Xenocrates was commended to the Athenian people not merely by the warmth of his patriotism and the universally acknowledged blamelessness of his life, but also by the marked independence which he showed in his relations to the great. When Alexander placed a con- siderable sum of money at his disposal, he invited the messenger charged with the gift to the common table. Pointing to the simplicity of the meal and the inexpensive mode of life usual at the Academy, he declined the royal bounty ; or rather, by accepting a small fraction of it, took off the edge of a refusal that otherwise might have seemed insulting or defiant. His attitude towards religion, too, was such as to bring him nearer to the heart of the people. He was a forerunner of the Stoic school (whose founder, by the way, was one of his pupils) in what the ancients called “adaptation ” (συνοικείωσις), an abstract interpreta- tion of mythical tales and symbols well suited to bridge the gulf between philosophy and popular beliefs. Indeed, he went so far as to modify the late Platonic doctrine of numbers in an anthropomorphic sense by assigning to the principles of unity and duality the characters, respectively, of male and female divine principles—a new instance of the tendency, which we have already noticed in the case IDEAL NUMBERS. 7 of the Megarian Euclides and the aged Plato, to an atavism by which metaphysical entities revert to the theological type (cf. Vol. II. p. 174; Vol. III. p. 173). Similarly, in the deification of natural forces, he went further than the star-gods of his master, and, lastly, he imagined count- less hosts of demons mediating between the gods and men. In this demonology, following the precedent of ‘the evil world-soul in the “ Laws,” he did not shrink from admitting spirits that plague and torment. Here, espe- cially, we find him at a vast distance from the pride of intellect characteristic of true Socratism, and swayed by the ineradicable instincts of the popular mind. Whether Xenocrates counted among the demons souls not yet incarnated or souls severed from their bodies, is a question that cannot be answered with full certainty. More important is his definition of the soul, applied by him to the world-soul as well as to the souls of human individuals: A number which moves itself. We rub our eyes on reading this marvellous definition for the first time. Well might Aristotle call it “the summit of absurdity.” But at the same time he elucidated, aptly if not exhaus- tively, the currents of thought which brought it into being. On the “self-movement” we need waste no words. The reader is familiar to satiety with the doctrine of the “ Phedrus ” and the “ Laws” that all motion is of psychic origin (cf. Vol. III. p. 45, seg.). Besides holding this doctrine, Xenocrates desired to lay emphasis on the cog- nitive function of the soul. Now, number was regarded as typically the most abstract, and therefore the purest and most exalted object of knowledge. Herewith was joined the ancient doctrine of the essential similarity between the knower and the known. Just as for Empedocles earth was known by earth and discord by discord (Vol. I. p. 246), so here it may be, some share in the nature of number was ascribed to that by which number is known. Perhaps, also, the following consideration may assist towards the understanding of this curiosity in definitions. If we suppose that Xenocrates wished to describe the soul as something that knows and that moves itself, he would have had a 8 GREEK THINKERS. difficulty in specifying this something more precisely with- out at the same time suggesting erroneous ideas. It was important to prevent the soul being imagined as material, as extended in space, or even as a composite product into which body entered as well as soul; such words, therefore, as “thing,” “living being,” perhaps even “being,” were hardly fit for his use. Turning his back on this region of terminology, he lighted on the word “ number,” which both commended itself by its abstractness, and promised to express the quantitative relation of the parts of the soul. In this latter respect the definition is no more absurd than the kindred conception of the soul as a harmony (cf. Vol. III. p. 43); both are open to Aristotle’s objection that a harmony is a relation or a mode of composition, and presupposes elements which it relates or of which it is the synthesis. This application of the concept of number is closely bound up with that product of Plato’s old age which, under the name of intelligible or ideal numbers, has provided ancient and modern students with so much labour to so little purpose. The hint contained in the “Philebus” (cf. Vol. IIT. p. 215) was followed by a fuller exposition in a course of lectures “On the Good” which a well-informed ancient commentator described as “enigmatic.” If the immediate successors of Plato were unable to solve these riddles satisfactorily, or even to make some approach to unanimity as to their solution, how should better success be possible for us, to whom the mere statement of the riddles is only known through dark and fragmentary allusions? Very little is known with certainty ; for example, that those ideal numbers were distinguished from the numbers with which we calculate, and that there were not more than ten of them. Thus Plato cannot have been concerned with numbers in the mathematical sense, but with the principles of numbers. In these principles he believed he had discovered the fundamental causes of things. Preciser information is not within our reach, except with regard to the principles of unity and duality, also called the principles of indivisibility and divisibility, from the mixture of which SPECULATIONS ON NUMBER. 9 numbers in the ordinary sense were supposed to take their rise—as “unity in multiplicity,” to speak with a logician of the present age. With this exception, we discover nothing but vague analogies. The Pythagoreans had adduced parallels between arithmetical and geometrical ideas (point and unity, line and duality, surface and triplicity, body and quadruplicity, cf. Vol. I. pp. 104, 105) ; these were now supplemented by a parallelism dealing with the region of knowledge. Pure reason was assimilated to unity, knowledge to duality, opinion to triplicity, sense- perception to quadruplicity. Such is the account given by Aristotle of these speculations. A glimmer of light is thrown upon them when we remember that so far back as in the “Republic” Plato had paralleled the shadow- pictures of mere fallible opinion with the first superficial number, three (cf. Vol. III. p. 101). The equation of know- ledge with duality seems to rest on the consideration that knowledge implies both a something that knows and a something that is known; while pure reason is regarded as holding the two elements of subject and object in an as yet undivided unity, in the form, it may be, of divine self-contemplation. Two principles of arrangement seem here to be working at cross purposes. For, while there is a plain step downwards from reason to opinion, nothing of the kind is visible, at least at first sight, in the relations of opinion to sense-perception. Possibly, however, Plato might have met this objection by observing that in opinion, uncertain and deceptive as it may be, there is yet an element of active thought, a reflected flicker of reason ; while sense-perception plunges us fathom-deep in the world of the unreal, and, as one of the functions of the soul, takes its stand nearer to the corporeal and animal sphere than does opinion, which latter estimates and compares the impressions of sense. Analogies of this type may be spun out to whatever lengths we like; but they will never furnish us, any more than they furnished Plato, with an Ariadne-clue to lead us out of the labyrinth of vague similitudes. Recent attempts to discover in these theories anticipations of the most modern school of logical ΙΟ GREEK THINKERS. mathematicians are, as we think, destitute of any tenable basis. In this doctrine Plato indulged, to a greater extent than anywhere else, the craving for simplification natural to a speculative mind. We have noted how in the “ Statesman,” with a breadth of vision recalling Heraclitus, he sought to identify the powers that rule the moral sphere with those that rule the world of nature. In the “Timzus” we have seen ethics placed on a cosmic basis, while nature was ethicized, and, in the language of the ancient gibe, “ mathe- maticized.” We have witnessed the triumph which was won by mathematics in the arena of Plato’s mind over a dialectic now held in lower regard because of its real or supposed misuse. Thus the tendency of thought which, at the in- ception of the doctrine of Ideas, made the reality of mathe- matical objects an inference from the irrefragable truth of mathematical propositions, moved on to complete victory (cf. Vol. III. pp. 4,5). With the speculative forces we have named there was joined the Pythagorean conception of number as not merely the expression but the generator of universal law, as the source of all existence, as the highest reality (cf. Vol. I. p. 104). The last barriers are overthrown by which the several realms of Being were divided. Natural philosophy, ethics, epistemology are fused into a single whole ; and their highest concepts coalesce in the numerical principles which they have in common. At the summit of the pyramid of numbers, which is at the same time a pyramid of concepts, stands the principle of unity. We recall here that Platonic yearning for the unconditional unification of man and society which grew into a fierce hatred of all sundering differences, all Mine and Thine, all divergence of opinion, all individuality. In the universe, again, unity became the principle of salvation, of per- manent subsistence, and so of the Good (cf. Vol. III. p. 215). To all this we have now to add the intellectual sphere, in which the principle of unity makes its appearance as self- thinking, universal reason, or as self-contemplating deity, drawing as yet no distinction between subject and object. We have already reached a point where more is surmise THE TRIADS OF XENOGCRATES, ΤῊ than inference. No glimpse whatever is afforded us of the manner in which Plato reduced the Ideas to numerical principles. All that can be said with certainty is that he associated each subordinate concept with its appropriate summum genus, or number-principle, the whole forming an arrangement in which the more general always ranked above the more particular (cf. Vol. III. p. 374). We can understand how a sober thinker like Speusippus, instead of falling under the intoxicating spell of these philosophic identities, found himself called upon to assert the specific differences which distinguish the fundamental conceptions of the ethical and physical, the intellectual and mathe- matical spheres. Such sobriety was not among the gifts of Xenocrates. The magic of number held him in thrall. The sacred number three was discovered by him everywhere. It appeared in the composition of philosophy, which he sub- divided primarily into physics, ethics, and logic. It was seen in the structure of the universe, to whose three regions there corresponded three forms of the Godhead, and three stages of knowledge ; while the threefold nature of entities —intelligible, sensible, and mixed—found a concrete repre- sentation in the three Parce. On fancies such as these there is no need to dwell. Nor is there much more profit to be won from the study of his physics. This was closely modelled on that of the “Timzus,” with the distinction that the place of the primary triangles was taken by genuinely material particles. He would have nothing to do with an origin of the world in time, or a creation of the world-soul ; and accordingly he was one of the first, if not the first, to treat the expressions in the “ Timzus ” which set forth these ideas as mere devices of exposition. His ethics, which was contained in numerous writings, is known to us only in uncertain outline. One of his utterances which places the desire to do evil on a level with the accomplished deed, surprises us by the refinement of feeling it manifests. He did not entirely disregard bodily and external goods, and clearly was further removed from the Cynic position than his successor. 12 GREEK THINKERS. 3. This was Polemon of Athens, a member of a wealthy family of ancient nobility, who was head of the Academy from 314 to 270. His youth was wild, even dissolute. He was once one of a company of revellers jwho rioted through the magnificent street of the “ Potter’s Market” in broad daylight. Intrigues which went beyond the limits allowed by Greek manners gave his wife occasion for a divorce suit. Intercourse with Xenocrates trans- formed him beyond recognition. His ideal came to be calmness and rigidity of mind carried to the extent of insensibility. In the theatre, when all around were in the grip of the keenest emotion, the little man with the hard stern features could not be seen to move a muscle. Not even the bite of a mad dog drew from him a cry of fear or anguish. From his pupils he received not only admira- tion, but the warmest devotion. Many of them, in order to be always near him, chose to live in the garden of the Academy, in which they erected small huts. In his teaching, dialectic and physics passed into the background ; his sole concern was with the Platonic ethics, which in his hands approximated to the Cynic type. He acknowledged nature as his guide; and his commendation of the “ life according to nature” contained germs capable of the richer elaboration which they subsequently received from Stoics and Epicureans. His professional labours were seconded by those of Crantor, a man of no slight import- ance, who, by expounding the “ Timzeus,’ opened the series of Platonic exegetes, though his interpretation of the dialogue followed lines traced by Xenocrates. In another direction, too, Crantor was a pioneer, for his cele- brated book “On Mourning” founded the literature of consolation. Among other things, this work contained a review of the pros and cons of immortality which recalled Plato’s “Apology.” A precious fragment of it is extant, in which a profound understanding is revealed of the function performed by bodily pain as a guardian of health, and by mental pain as a preservative from brutish de- moralization. A similar tone of moderation is shown in his “table of goods,” in which virtue occupies the highest CRATES AND ARCESILAUS, 13 place, while room is yet found for health and riches, and for pleasure between the two. The different goods were represented as appearing before a festival assembly of the Greeks and contending for the first prize—an idea which was carried out with the same grace and spirit that marked the work “On Mourning.” Though Polemon’s ideal of apathy or insensibility was not that of Crantor, the two men were bound by ties of the most intimatc friendship. Indeed, their companionship grew into a complete com- munity of life, in which they were joined by Crates, Polemon’s successor in the headship of the school (270- ὃ), and lastly by the next head, Arcesilaus (?-241). Even the bones of the friends were directed to be laid in the same grave, a touch of sentimentality in which the spirit of the age proved stronger than the somewhat Cynically coloured ideal of Polemon. The latter would seem to have felt, dimly at any rate, the onesidedness of his nature and his consequent need of a complement. Otherwise, a man of his stamp, one who held aloof from all partici- pation in state affairs, who avoided all gatherings of men, who entered the city as seldom as possible, would hardly have attached himself to Crates, who took an active share in politics and was even willing to undertake journeys as envoy. Crates, again, wrote a book on Comedy, while Polemon’s favourite author was the tragic poet Sophocles. There was a still sharper contrast between Polemon and Arcesilaus, the fourth of the friendly band. While the former despised all dialectic, the latter awoke it to a new and vigorous life within the school of Plato. But with him we have reached the limits of the Old Academy. We cannot, however, take our leave of it without men- tioning an accessory but exceedingly attractive figure, of whose manifold activities we must now give the briefest possible account. 4. The name of Heraclides is not new to our readers. They will remember the considerable share which he had in the progress of astronomical theory (cf. Vol. I. p. 121). But his many-sided intellect was not exhausted in this contribution, This native of Heraclea on the Black Sea 14 GREEK THINKERS, had become at home in the circle of Plato’s pupils. It would appear that he stood in particularly close relation to Speusippus; and he received instruction in rhetoric from Aristotle during the latter’s first residence in Athens. Plato is said to have left him, during his last Sicilian journey, to take his place at the Academy ; and, in any case, his reputation in that quarter was so great that on the death of Speusippus he nearly obtained the headship. He was, however, second to Xenocrates, though by only a narrow margin of votes, and his disappointment gave him a motive for returning to his home. Unfortunately, his literary and educational work did not satisfy his am- bition. Like Empedocles, he was something of a poseur, and the resemblance was heightened by his craving for more than human honours. This presumption was visited by a requital which may be called tragic. When his native land had been suffering from persistent bad harvests, and the Delphic oracle was consulted in the hope of obtaining deliverance, he contrived, by bribing the envoys sent to Delphi, as well as the Pythia herself, to have an answer returned to the effect that the Heracleots would prosper better if they were to crown Heraclides with a golden crown as a benefactor of his country, and after his death honour him asa hero. The sequel could not but impress men’s minds as a divine judgment. For while the response of the oracle was being announced in the theatre before the assembled people, Heraclides, who was in a state of violent excitement, suddenly fell down dead, like that Olympic victor who was seized with apoplexy at the moment of his triumph. This touch of the charlatan in his character has influenced in undue measure the judg- ments of men upon Heraclides the author. We do not know, it is true, whether there is any justice in the charge of plagiarism which was brought against him by a rival. But if his dialogues were adorned with wonderful tales and inventions of fantastic audacity, he was well within his rights as an artist, and is no more blameable on that account than was Plato for his vision of Er the Pamphy]l- lian, not to mention the marvellous realm of Atlantis. HERACLIDES OF PONTUS. 15 The most remarkable of his fictions was probably that in which he represented a man as coming from the moon to the earth, perhaps with the same object as that which Voltaire had in view when he made his Micromegas leave his native Sirius to visit the earth and criticize the affairs of men. This fashion of expanding the dialogue form beyond its original bounds by all manner of fanciful additions was by no means confined to Heraclides. Eudoxus composed “ Dog-dialogues ;” and the “Panther” and the “Crow” of Diogenes are additional instances which imply an incursion into the realm of animal-lore. That which especially distinguished the dialogues of the Pontine philosopher was the rich variety of character depicted in them, the great extent of the narratives which formed their framework or were woven into their texture, and also the lifelike “medium conversational tone” for which they were famous. They were divided into tragic and comic, and embraced a wide gamut of subjects and modes of treatment. One of them, entitled “On the Apparently Dead,” described a marvellous cure said to have been wrought by Empedocles. Another of his contributions to this class of literature introduced the reader into the world below, and yet another represented a Magus as arriving at the court of Gelo, and narrating the circum- navigation of Libya. Lastly, there was the “ Abaris,” in which Pythagoras appeared as an interlocutor as well as the Hyperborean wonder-worker whose name furnished the title. This work, which filled several volumes, would seem to have been simply a novel interspersed with dialogues. Was Heraclides the author greater than Heraclides the philosopher? One is inclined to conjecture that he was. For while the artistic form of his works receives repeated praise, and is imitated even by Varro and Cicero, the number of specific doctrines, apart from his great innovations in astronomy, that are attributed to him, is not considerable. Our authorities, it is true, often leave us in the lurch, We learn that he modified the 16 GREEK THINKERS. Atomism of Abdera, and that this doctrine, so modified, was retained by Asclepiades, the founder of the “Methodic” school of medicine (first century B.C.). But we have anything but clear information on the nature and extent of this transformation. In any case, Heraclides aban- doned the old and largely misleading form of the doctrine by rejecting the conception of an atom and substituting for it that of a simple body. For it is obvious that his “unarticulated particles” can be interpreted in this and no other way. Testimony of unimpeachable credit forbids us to suppose that he tampered with what is fundamental in the atomic theory, the limitation of objective reality to the mechanical properties of the primitive particles. He may, however, have lopped off certain fanciful ac- cretions to it; he may have denied the infinite series of simple kinds of body, and thrown the burden which this hypothesis was intended to bear on an assumed multiplicity of combinations by which varying effects are produced on our senses. This view of his teaching, which would thus have had affinities with modern chemistry, is suggested to us by the report, hardly susceptible of any other interpretation, that his atoms were liable to undergo changes, due, no doubt, to their action upon each other. The theistic disciple of Plato, moreover, can hardly have attributed to the world of matter that sovereign importance which it possessed in the eyes of Democritus, for whom the gods themselves were the products of linked atoms, incapable, as he thought, of exerting any influence on the processes of the world. The position of Heraclides may in this respect have resembled that of modern theologians, who no longer resist the doctrine of evolution, but regard that process rather as an instrument of the Divine purposes than as a prime cause in itself. That he attacked the Demo- critean theory of perception, we gather from the title of one of his books (“On Phantasms against Democritus”). His polemical activity was further directed against Heraclitus, as well as against his Eleatic antithesis, Zeno ; while the history of the Pythagorean school was a favourite subject with his pen. He filled many volumes with his writings HERACLIDES AND THE ATOMIC THEORY. 17 on ethics and politics, mathematics and physics, and the history of music, in addition to his works of a mere purely literary character. The same tendency to the encyclo- pedic pursuit of knowledge is to be met with, on a much larger scale, in another and greater thinker, who, like the Pontine, sprang from the school of Plato, and, like him, failed to find a place within its bounds, VOL. IV. ς 18 GREEK THINKERS. ΘΕΈ ΒΕ ΗΠ’ THE LIFE OF ARISTOTLE. 1. APART from founders of religions, no single man has ever exerted so permanent an influence on the mental life of mankind as Socrates. But this influence was very largely indirect. It is to be perceived in quarters where the name of Socrates has never been heard. A very different destiny awaited the most illustrious of his intel- lectual grandchildren. The victorious march of Aristotle is without a parallel. Fifteen hundred years after his death he is spoken of by the great poet of the Middle Ages as the “Master of those who know.” Ecclesiastical assemblies of Christian Europe penalize all deviation from the metaphysical doctrines of the heathen thinker: many a faggot blazes to consume his opponents. And the man whom Christendom delights to honour is no less the idol of Islam. In Bagdad and Cairo, in Cordova and Samar- cand, the minds of men acknowledge his sway. The Crusader and the Moslem forget their strife while they vie in praises of the Grecian sage. Truly the threads of fate are strangely interwoven here. Medizval Europe owed the revival of Aristotelian philosophy to the Arabs. They in their turn drew their knowledge from Syriac translations, the makers of which were well fitted to mediate between their Greek brethren in the faith and their Arabian brethren of the Semite stock. Thus the dead Aristotle set up reciprocal influences of far-reaching compass between East and West, and con- tributed his part towards the realization of the ideal which his great pupil kept before his mind—that fusion of Orient and Occident after which Alexander strove in many a hotly contested fight. ARISTOTLE’S FIRST RESIDENCE AT ATHENS. 19 This relation of pupil and teacher, which bound Alexander to Aristotle, the arbiter of the world to the arbiter of thought, strikes us as one of the most curious caprices of history. It had its origin in the connexion of the philosopher’s father with the Macedonian Court. Nicomachus, an eminent member of the Asclepiad family, and not unknown to literary fame, stood in close relation to Philip’s father Amyntas, as his physician and trusted adviser. Thus Aristotle spent his years of childhood at a royal court ; he was saved, however, from the enervating influences of court life by the bereavement which left him an orphan in his boyhood. He grew up in his native place, the humble Stagira, under the care of his guardian, Proxenus. At the age of seventeen he went to Athens and entered the school of Plato (367). Here he abode for two decades, up to the death of the master. There were current in ancient days stories of the pupil’s relation to the teacher, as to the truth of which we are in some measure able to judge. It is related that Aristotle made use of Plato’s repeated absences to secure his own preponderant influence in the school, for which reason Plato charged him with ingratitude, and compared him to a colt that lashes out at his mother. Closely examined, this tale may be seen to be mere idle gossip. It is not only that in those of his works which have been preserved Aristotle displays the deepest reverence for his great teacher. For instance, there is the well-known passage in the “Ethics,” where he prefaces a polemic against the Ideas by the fine saying that, difficult as he finds it to combat a doctrine originating in a friendly quarter, truth yet demands the sacrifice. “For if the choice is left to us between regard for truth and regard for a man, piety bids us pay the higher honour to truth.” That which is most important is the simple fact that he spent all those years at Athens and in the Academy. Nor is it entirely without significance that a literary opponent, who assailed Aristotle during that period, could think of no more effective plan than to make the exclusively Platonic doctrine of Ideas the objective of his attack. 20 GREEK THINKERS. “ He struck at Plato, wishing to wound Aristotle,” says our authority. From this it is clear that he was at that time regarded simply as a member of the Platonic school, and that of misunderstandings between the two men out- siders at any rate knew nothing. The polemical writing referred to was the work of a pupil of Isocrates, Cephiso- dorus by name, and was connected with the rivalry which existed between Aristotle and Isocrates as teachers of rhetoric. For the Stagirite had already begun to give instruction in this subject, though not in philosophy ; and that he looked with some contempt on the pretentious superficiality of the older man is what we might have conjectured even if it had not been expressly attested. He meted out public chastisement to the inferiority of his distinguished rival. In other ways, too, that period of his life saw him busy with his pen. The greater part, if not the whole, of his dialogues had been composed before he turned his back on Athens. This step was one which he could not bring himself to take till the aged master had drawn his last breath (347), just as for that master himself the execution of Socrates had been the signal for departure. Not only was the bond broken which had hitherto bound him to Athens ; it is clear that he could not see in Speusippus the man best qualified to direct the school. This is confirmed by the circumstance that when he left Athens he was accompanied by Xenocrates. For the new scene of their labours the comrades chose Assos, a city of Mysia. This ‘city, together with Atarneus, was governed by Hermias, who had formerly been a slave of Eubulus, the sovereign of Assos, but who had risen to be his master’s successor. He had at one time been a fellow-student of the two young philosophers at Athens ; he now acted as an out-sentinel of the Macedonian empire, which here came into collision with the Persian. This conflict claimed him as a victim; for after Mentor the Rhodian, a commander of Persian troops, had enticed him outside the city on pretext of a diplomatic conference, he was taken prisoner and sent to the Great King, who had him put to a shameful death. ARISTOTLE AND ALEXANDER. Zt The two friends fled to Mitylene, the chief city of the neighbouring island Lesbos. At the same time, Pythias, a niece and adopted daughter of the fallen prince, likewise sought safety in flight. Aristotle felt himself drawn to her in her distress, and chose her for his wife. From Mitylene he was summoned (342) to the Macedonian Court, to which he was recommended by his literary achieve- ments, the memory of the royal physician his father, and his close relations to Hermias, the unfortunate victim of Macedonian policy. Withan unerring eye, Philip perceived in the rising scholar and author the right man to educate his son, then a boy of fourteen. The kings of Macedon had always set store on “moral conquests” in Hellas. So far back as the first Persian wars, Alexander I. had sought to establish his claim to take part in the Olympic games by producing a pedigree which reached back to Heracles. At the present moment Philip was a member of the Delphic Amphictyony ; he had acted as president of the Pythian games; he was already de facto the Protector of Greece. It was not to be thought of that an heir destined to still greater things should lack those means of education for the command of which Greek princes and statesmen strove at that time with the keenest rivalry. But, even apart from possible political complications, it may well have seemed undesir- able to place him in the midst of Athenian democrats at the school of Isocrates or of Speusippus. The monarch seized upon an expedient which does the greatest honour to his pedagogic insight. He decided that Alexander should complete his studies in the peace of the country, far from the din of the court, under the guidance of the most eminent educational talent to be had. For this purpose he selected Mieza, a city lying to the south-west of the royal seat, at the foot of the wooded heights of Bermion, or rather not the city itself, but a shrine of the nymphs in its neighbourhood, not far from an extensive stalactite cave. There a kind of private university was established. To a late date tourists were shown the stone benches and shady avenues in which Aristotle can hardly have been the 22 GREEK THINKERS. only teacher or Alexander the only pupil. We shall do better to picture the one at the head of a professorial staff, and the other surrounded by a company of fellow-students drawn from the highest Macedonian aristocracy. This university-life of Alexander lasted only two years. In the year 340 he was called upon to act as regent for his father while the latter was absent on a military expedition. This duty over, he may have continued his intercourse with the philosopher for a few years more, though not without frequent interruptions occasioned by participation in his father’s campaigns. To take the measure of the influence which Aristotle exercised over his ambitious pupil is, unfortunately, a task beyond the materials at our command. It is easier to indicate the point at which this influence failed. The Stagirite was filled with the consciousness of nationality steeped in national pride. The line between Greek and Barbarian was for him an inviolable frontier. Nature, he thought, had ordained the one to rule and the other to serve. The conqueror of the world, on the other hand, who in the far East assumed Persian dress, adopted Persian court-ceremonial, and entrusted Orientals with high office, mightily battered those barriers, and prepared the way for their final collapse. Whatever counsel Aristotle gave under this head was disregarded. It may be that we have here the source of that coolness which arose between the two men, of that growing estrangement whose traces were thought to be discernible in the tone of Alexander’s letters. However begun, it was almost certainly enhanced by the embroilment of the king with a former fellow-student, Callisthenes, who was also a nephew of Aristotle. It is easy to understand that, in spite of all this, the royal pupil showed no remissness in bestowing honours on his teacher and providing financial support for his researches. Philip had during his lifetime accorded a full measure of favour to the tutor of his heir, and had entrusted him with the rebuilding of Stagira, which he himself had destroyed. A year after Alexander’s accession Aristotle returned to Athens, and there, in the eastern part of the city, founded ARISTOTLE AFTER ALEXANDERS DEATH. 23 a school in connexion with the gymnasium known as the Lyceum, a name which was also borne by the school, and has passed into modern languages.