The Academic Questions, Treatise De Finibus, and Tusculan Disputations, of M.T. Cicero, With a Sketch of the Greek Philosophers Mentioned by · Marcus Tullius Cicero
SECOND BOOK OF THE ACADEMIC QUESTIONS.
And after having explained this, he adds, that there are two senses in which the wise man may be said to suspend his assent: one, when it is understood that he, as a general rule, assents to nothing; the other, when he forbears answering, so as to say that he approves or disapproves of anything, or, so as to deny or affirm anything. This being the case, he approves of the one sense, so as never to assent to anything; and adheres to the other, so as to be able to answer yes, or no, following probability whenever it either occurs or is wanting. And that one may not be astonished at one, who in every matter withholds himself from expressing his assent, being nevertheless agitated and excited to action, he leaves us perceptions of the sort by which we are excited to action, and those owing to which we can, when questioned, answer either way, being guided only by appearances, as long as we avoid expressing a deliberate assent. And yet we must look upon all appearances of that kind as probable, but only those which have no obstacles to counteract them. If we do not induce you to approve of these ideas, they may perhaps be false, but they certainly do not deserve odium. For we are not depriving you of any light; but with reference to the things which you assert are perceived and comprehended, we say, that if they be only probable, they appear to be true.
XXXIII. Since, therefore, what is probable, is thus inferred and laid down, and at the same time disencumbered of all difficulties, set free and unrestrained, and disentangled from all extraneous circumstances; you see, Lucullus, that that defence of perspicuity which you took in hand is utterly overthrown. For this wise man of whom I am speaking will survey the heaven and earth and sea with the same eyes as your wise man; and will feel with the same senses all those other things which fall under each respective sense. That sea, which now, as the west wind is rising over it, appears purple to us, will appear so too to our wise man, but nevertheless he will not sanction the appearance by his assent; because, to us ourselves it appeared just now blue, and in the morning it appeared yellow; and now, too, because it sparkles in the sun, it is white and dimpled, and quite unlike the adjacent continent; so that, even if you could give an account why it is so, still you could not establish the truth of the appearance that is presented to the eyes.
Whence then,—for this was the question which you asked,—comes memory, if we perceive nothing, since we cannot recollect anything which we have seen unless we have comprehended it? What? Did Polyænus, who is said to have been a great mathematician, after he had been persuaded by Epicurus to believe all geometry to be false, forget all the knowledge which he had previously possessed? But that which is false cannot be comprehended as you yourselves assert. If, therefore, memory is conversant only with things which have been perceived and comprehended, then it retains as comprehended and perceived all that every one remembers. But nothing false can be comprehended; and Scyron recollects all the dogmas of Epicurus; therefore they are all true. For all I care, they may be; but you also must either admit that they are so, and that is the last thing in your thoughts, or else you must allow me memory, and grant that there is plenty of room for it, even if there be no comprehension or perception. What then is to become of the arts? Of what arts? of those, which of their own accord confess that they proceed on conjecture more than on knowledge; or of those which only follow what appears to them, and are destitute of that art which you possess to enable them to distinguish between truth and falsehood?
But there are two lights which, more than any others, contain the whole case; for, in the first place, you deny the possibility of any man invariably withholding his assent from everything. But that is quite plain; since Panætius, almost the greatest man, in my opinion, of all the Stoics, says that he is in doubt as to that matter, which all the Stoics except him think absolutely certain, namely as to the truth of the auspices taken by soothsayers, and of oracles, and dreams, and prophecies; and forbears to express any assent respecting them. And why, if he may pursue this course concerning those matters, which the men of whom he himself learnt considered unquestionable, why may not a wise man do so too in all other cases? Is there any position which a man may either approve or disapprove of after it has been asserted, but yet may not doubt about? May you do so with respect to the sorites whenever you please, and may not he take his stand in the same manner in other cases, especially when without expressing his assent he may be able to follow a probability which is not embarrassed by anything? The second point is that you declare that man incapable of action who withholds his assent from everything. For first of all we must see in what assent consists. For the Stoics say that the senses themselves are assents; that desire comes after them, and action after desire. But that every thing is at an end if we deny perception.
XXXIV. Now on this subject many things have been said and written on both sides, but the whole matter may be summed up in a few words. For although I think it a very great exploit to resist one’s perceptions, to withstand one’s vague opinions, to check one’s propensity to give assent to propositions,—and though I quite agree with Clitomachus, when he writes that Carneades achieved a Herculean labour when, as if it had been a savage and formidable monster, he extracted assent, that is to say, vague opinion and rashness, from our minds,—yet, supposing that part of the defence is wholly omitted, what will hinder the action of that man who follows probability, without any obstacle arising to embarrass him? This thing of itself, says he, will embarrass him,—that he will lay it down, that even the thing he approves of cannot be perceived. And that will hinder you, also, in sailing, in planting, in marrying a wife, in becoming the parent of children, and in many things in which you follow nothing except what is probable.
And, nevertheless, you bring up again that old and often repudiated objection, to employ it not as Antipater did, but, as you say, in a closer manner. For you tell us that Antipater was blamed for saying, that it was consistent in a man who affirmed that nothing could be comprehended, to say that at least this fact of that impossibility could be comprehended; which appeared even to Antiochus to be a stupid kind of assertion, and contradictory to itself. For that it cannot be said with any consistency that nothing can be comprehended, if it is asserted at the same time that the fact of the impossibility can be comprehended. He thinks that Carneades ought rather to be pressed in this way:—As the wise man admits of no dogma except such as is comprehended, perceived, and known, he must therefore confess that this very dogma of the wise man, “that nothing can be perceived,” is perceived; as if the wise man had no other maxim whatever, and as if he could pass his life without any. But as he has others, which are probable, but not positively perceived, so also has he this one, that nothing can be perceived. For if he had on this point any characteristic of certain knowledge, he would also have it on all other points; but since he has it not, he employs probabilities. Therefore he is not afraid of appearing to be throwing everything into confusion, and making it uncertain. For it is not admissible for a person to say that he is ignorant about duty, and about many other things with which he is constantly mixed up and conversant; as he might say, if he were asked whether the number of the stars is odd or even. For in things uncertain, nothing is probable; but as to those matters in which there is probability, in those the wise man will not be at a loss what to do, or what answer to give.
Nor have you, O Lucullus, omitted that other objection of Antiochus (and, indeed, it is no wonder, for it is a very notorious one,) by which he used to say that Philo was above all things perplexed. For when one proposition was assumed, that some appearances were false, and a second one that there was no difference between them and true ones, he said that that school omitted to take notice that the former proposition had been granted by him, because there did appear to be some difference between appearances; but that that was put an end to by the second proposition, which asserted that there was no difference between false and true ones; for that no two assertions could be more contradictory. And this objection would be correct if we altogether put truth out of the question: but we do not; for we see both true appearances and false ones. But there is a show of probability in them, though of perception we have no sign whatever.
XXXV. And I seem to myself to be at this moment adopting too meagre an argument; for, when there is a wide plain, in which our discourse may rove at liberty, why should we confine it within such narrow straits, and drive it into the thickets of the Stoics? For if I were arguing with a Peripatetic, who said “that everything could be perceived which was an impression originating in the truth,” and who did not employ that additional clause,—“in such a way as it could not originate in what was false,” I should then deal plainly with a plain man, and should not be very disputatious. And even if, when I said that nothing could be comprehended, he was to say that a wise man was sometimes guided by opinion, I should not contradict him; especially as even Carneades is not very hostile to this idea. As it is, what can I do? For I am asking what there is that can be comprehended; and I am answered, not by Aristotle, or Theophrastus, or even Xenocrates or Polemo, but by one who is of much later date than they,—“A truth of such a nature as what is false cannot be.” I find nothing of the sort. Therefore I will, in truth, assent to what is unknown;—that is to say, I will be guided by opinion. This I am allowed to do both by the Peripatetics and by the Old Academy; but you refuse me such indulgence, and in this refusal Antiochus is the foremost, who has great weight with me, either because I loved the man, as he did me, or because I consider him the most refined and acute of all the philosophers of our age.
And, first of all, I will ask him how it is that he is a follower of that Academy to which he professes to belong? For, to pass over other points, who is there, either of the Old Academy or of the Peripatetics, who has ever made these two assertions which are the subject of discussion,—either that that alone could be perceived which was a truth of such a nature, as what was false could not be; or that a wise man was never guided by opinion? Certainly no one of them ever said so. Neither of these propositions was much maintained before Zeno’s time. But I consider both of them true; and I do not say so just to serve the present turn, but it is my honest opinion. XXXVI. This is what I cannot bear. When you forbid me to assent to what I do not know, and say such a proceeding is most discreditable, and full of rashness,—when you, at the same time, arrogate so much to yourself, as to take upon yourself to explain the whole system of wisdom, to unfold the nature of all things, to form men’s manners, to fix the limits of good and evil, to describe men’s duties, and also to undertake to teach a complete rule and system of disputing and understanding, will you be able to prevent me from never tripping while embracing all those multitudinous branches of knowledge? What, in short, is that school to which you would conduct me, after you have carried me away from this one? I fear you will be acting rather arrogantly if you say it is your own. Still you must inevitably say so. Nor, indeed, are you the only person who would say such a thing, but every one will try and tempt me to his own.
Come; suppose I resist the Peripatetics, who say that they are closely connected with the orators, and that illustrious men who have been instructed by them have often governed the republic;—suppose that I withstand the Epicureans, so many of whom are friends of my own,—excellent, united, and affectionate men;—what am I to do with respect to Deodotus the Stoic, of whom I have been a pupil from my youth,—who has been living with me so many years,—who dwells in my house,—whom I admire and love, and who despises all those theories of Antiochus? Our principles, you will say, are the only true ones. Certainly the only true ones, if they are true at all; for there cannot be many true principles incompatible with one another. Are we then shameless who are unwilling to make mistakes; or they arrogant who have persuaded themselves that they are the only people who know everything? I do not, says he, assert that I, but that the wise man knows everything. Exactly so; that he knows those things which are the principles of your school. Now, in the first place, what an assertion it is that wisdom cannot be explained by a wise man.—But let us leave off speaking of ourselves; let us speak of the wise man, about whom, as I have often said before, the whole of this discussion is.
Wisdom, then, is distributed by most people, and indeed by us, into three parts. First therefore, if you please, let us consider the researches that have been made into the nature of things. Is there any one so puffed up with a false opinion of himself as to have persuaded himself that he knows those things? I am not asking about those reasons which depend on conjecture, which are dragged every way by discussions, and which do not admit any necessity of persuasion. Let the geometricians look to that, who profess not to persuade men to believe them, but to compel them to do so; and who prove to you everything that they describe. I am not asking these men for those principles of the mathematicians, which, if they be not granted, they cannot advance a single step; such as that a point is a thing which has no magnitude,—that an extremity or levelness, as it were, is a space which has no thickness,—that a line is length without breadth.
Though I should grant that all these axioms are true, if I were to add an oath, do you think a wise man would swear that the sun is many degrees greater than the earth, before Archimedes had, before his eyes, made out all those calculations by which it is proved? If he does, then he will be despising the sun which he considers a god. But if he will not believe the mathematical calculations which employ a sort of constraint in teaching,—as you yourselves say,—surely he will be very far from believing the arguments of philosophers; or, if he does believe any such, which school will he believe? One may explain all the principles of natural philosophers, but it would take a long time: I ask, however, whom he will follow? Suppose for a moment that some one is now being made a wise man, but is not one yet,—what system and what school shall he select above all others? For, whatever one he selects, he will select while he is still unwise. But grant that he is a man of godlike genius, which of all the natural philosophers will he approve of above all others? For he cannot approve of more than one. I will not pursue an infinite number of questions; only let us see whom he will approve of with respect to the elements of things of which all things are composed; for there is a great disagreement among the greatest men on this subject.
XXXVII. First of all, Thales, one of the seven, to whom they say that the other six yielded the preeminence, said that everything originated out of water; but he failed to convince Anaximander, his countryman and companion, of this theory; for his idea was that there was an infinity of nature from which all things were produced. After him, his pupil, Anaximenes, said that the air was infinite, but that the things which were generated from it were finite; and that the earth, and water, and fire, were generated, and that from them was produced everything else. Anaxagoras said that matter was infinite; but that from it were produced minute particles resembling one another; that at first they were confused, but afterwards brought into order by divine intellect. Xenophanes, who was a little more ancient still, asserted that all things were only one single being, and that that being was immutable and a god, not born, but everlasting, of a globular form. Parmenides considered that it is fire that moves the earth, which is formed out of it. Leucippus thought that there was a _plenum_, and a _vacuum_; Democritus resembled him in this idea, but was more copious on other matters: Empedocles adopts the theory of the four ordinary and commonly known elements. Heraclitus refers everything to fire; Melissus thinks that what exists is infinite, immutable, always has existed, and always will. Plato thinks that the world was made by God, so as to be eternal, out of matter which collects everything to itself. The Pythagoreans affirm that everything proceeds from numbers, and from the principles of mathematicians.
Now of all these different teachers the wise man will, I imagine, select some one to follow; all the rest, numerous, and great men as they are, will be discarded by him and condemned; but whichever doctrine he approves of he will retain in his mind, being comprehended in the same manner as those things which he comprehends by means of the senses; nor will he feel any greater certainty of the fact of its now being day, than, since he is a Stoic, of this world being wise, being endowed with intellect, which has made both itself and the world, and which regulates, sets in motion, and governs everything. He will also be persuaded that the sun, and moon, and all the stars, and the earth, and sea, are gods, because a certain animal intelligence pervades and passes through them all: but nevertheless that it will happen some day or other that all this world will be burnt up with fire.
XXXVIII. Suppose that all this is true: (for you see already that I admit that something is true,) still I deny that these things are comprehended and perceived. For when that wise Stoic of yours has repeated all that to you, syllable by syllable, Aristotle will come forward pouring forth a golden stream of eloquence, and pronounce him a fool; and assert that the world has never had a beginning, because there never existed any beginning of so admirable a work from the adoption of a new plan: and that the world is so excellently made in every part that no power could be great enough to cause such motion, and such changes; nor could any time whatever be long enough to produce an old age capable of causing all this beauty to decay and perish. It will be indispensable for you to deny this, and to defend the former doctrine as you would your own life and reputation; may I not have even leave to entertain a doubt on the matter? To say nothing about the folly of people who assent to propositions rashly, what value am I to set upon a liberty which will not allow to me what is necessary for you? Why did God, when he was making everything for the sake of man, (for this is your doctrine,) make such a multitude of water-serpents and vipers? Why did he scatter so many pernicious and fatal things over the earth? You assert that all this universe could not have been made so beautifully and so ingeniously without some godlike wisdom; the majesty of which you trace down even to the perfection of bees and ants; so that it would seem that there must have been a Myrmecides(12) among the gods; the maker of all animated things.
You say that nothing can have any power without God. Exactly opposite is the doctrine of Strato of Lampsacus, who gives that God of his exemption from all important business. But as the priests of the gods have a holiday, how much more reasonable is it that the gods should have one themselves? He then asserts that he has no need of the aid of the gods to account for the making of the world. Everything that exists, he says, was made by Nature: not agreeing with that other philosopher who teaches, that the universe is a concrete mass of rough and smooth, and hooked and crooked bodies, with the addition of a vacuum: this he calls a dream of Democritus, and says that he is here not teaching, but wishing;—but he himself, examining each separate part of the world, teaches that whatever exists, and whatever is done, is caused, or has been caused, by natural weights and motions. In this way he releases God from a great deal of hard work, and me from fear; for who is there who, (when he thinks that he is an object of divine care,) does not feel an awe of the divine power day and night? And who, whenever any misfortunes happen to him (and what man is there to whom none happen?) feels a dread lest they may have befallen him deservedly—not, indeed, that I agree with that; but neither do I with you: at one time I think one doctrine more probable, and at other times I incline to the other.
XXXIX. All these mysteries, O Lucullus, lie concealed and enveloped in darkness so thick that no human ingenuity has a sight sufficiently piercing to penetrate into heaven, and dive into the earth. We do not understand our own bodies: we do not know what is the situation of their different parts, or what power each part has: therefore, the physicians themselves, whose business it was to understand these things, have opened bodies in order to lay those parts open to view. And yet empirics say that they are not the better known for that; because it is possible that, by being laid open and uncovered, they may be changed. But is it possible for us, in the same manner, to anatomize, and open, and dissect the natures of things, so as to see whether the earth is firmly fixed on its foundations and sticks firm on its roots, if I may so say, or whether it hangs in the middle of a vacuum? Xenophanes says that the moon is inhabited, and that it is a country of many cities and mountains. These assertions seem strange, but the man who has made them could not take his oath that such is the case; nor could I take mine that it is not the case. You also say that, opposite to us, on the contrary side of the earth, there are people who stand with their feet opposite to our feet, and you call them Antipodes. Why are you more angry with me, who do not despise these theories, than with those who, when they hear them, think that you are beside yourselves?
Ideas discussed in this chapter
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