Plato (Collins)/Chapter 8
CHAPTER VIII.
LATER PLATONISM.
Speusippus, Plato's nephew, succeeded his uncle at the head of the Academy; and both he and those who succeeded him appear to have taken a few texts and phrases from their great master's writings, and on them to have built up ethical systems of their own; while others, like Hermodorus, traded on those "unwritten doctrines," said to have been divulged only to a favoured few. But all that time has brought down to us of the later Academy is some brief and fragmentary writings, and some untrustworthy traditions; and, for the most part, the memorial of these philosophers has perished with them.
Even in Plato's own day, divisions had sprung up among his followers; and one of his most promising pupils, who for twenty years had attended lectures in the Academy, founded that school which has ever since divided with his own the world of thought. "Every man is born an Aristotelian or a Platonist:" their principles are mutually repugnant, and there is no common ground between the two; and if Aristotle himself could not understand his master's point of view, there is still less chance of a modern Aristotelian ever doing so. The very beauty of Plato's style, his exuberant fancy, the myths and metaphors in which he clothed his noblest thoughts, were all so many offences to the shrewd common-sense of Aristotle, who reasoned rigidly from fact to fact, who analysed the constitutions of three hundred states before he wrote a line of his "Politics," and whose cold and keen temperament had little sympathy with a philosopher who "poetised rather than thought."[1] As for the Platonic "Ideas"—the very foundation of Platonism—he regarded them as inconceivable and impossible, or, if possible, practically useless.
Plato's method of doubt and inquiry—carried far farther by his pupils than he ever intended it to be—resulted in the "New Academy," a school of Sceptics, of whom Pyrrho, originally a soldier in Alexander's army, was the leader. These Sceptics were a sign of the times. A weariness and despair of truth was creeping over society, and hence there grew up a feeling of indifference as to all moral distinctions, which the philosophers who professed it termed a "divine repose." Plato had said that there was no reality except in an ideal world, and Pyrrho and his followers pushed this doctrine so far as to deny the existence of any fixed standard of right and wrong, or of any certainty which sense or mind could perceive.
Socrates, it has been said, "sat for the portrait of the Stoic sage;"[2] and Stoicism perhaps owes as much to Plato as to the Cynics, of which school it was the legitimate offshoot. The majesty of mind, the high ideal of a life in accordance with reason and untrammelled by self-interest, the strong sense of a personal conscience, the doctrine that a man's soul was an emanation from the Deity—all these tenets might have been held by Plato or his master. But the Stoic disregarded, if he did not disbelieve in, the immortality of the soul; and suicide, which Plato held cowardly and impious, was looked upon by Seneca and Epictetus as an easy and justifiable refuge against all the evils of life.
Zeno was the first who lectured at Athens in the Painted Porch, which gave its name (Stoa) to the sect. His pupil Cleanthes—so slow and sure that his master compared his memory to a leaden tablet, difficult to write upon but retaining an indelible impression—carried out in actual practice the principles of his training, drawing water and kneading dough the whole night long, that he might have leisure for philosophy in the day-time. Chrysippus followed, the second founder of the "Porch," who is said to have written upwards of seven hundred volumes; and lastly Posidonius, the most learned of all, whose lectures at Rhodes were heard both by Cicero and Pompey.
Rome was naturally the home of Stoicism. The pride and "majestic egotism" which was their ideal of virtue, suited stern and zealous characters like Cato or Cornutus; and this pride, when softened by religious sentiment, produced the noblest examples of pagan philosophy in the Emperor Marcus Aurelius and the slave Epictetus. But though Stoicism could raise up a school of heroes, it suppressed all softer emotions, and set up an ideal unattainable by any except the most exalted minds, A change was coming over society, and the want was felt of a more tender and attractive philosophy, and a longing for some deeper truth than the cold comfort given by a "creed outworn" like paganism. Hence a reaction set in against the casuistry and scepticism of the later Stoics in favour of the more spiritual side of humanity. Allegory, Mysticism, Inspiration, and Ecstasy, were the characteristics of this new philosophy; a critical spirit and the strict inductions of reason were discouraged; to elicit divine ideas, and to subdue the senses, was held to be the end of life. And, like other creeds, this dawned in the East.
Alexandria was the meeting-point of Eastern and Western civilisation. In its vast gardens and libraries might be found a medley of all nations, creeds, and languages; for the policy of the first three Ptolemys—known as Sotēr, Philadelphus, and Euergetes ("Saviour," "Loving-brother," and "Benefactor")—was a liberal and universal toleration. Accordingly, a temple of Isis might be found side by side with a Jewish synagogue, or a shrine dedicated to Venus; and freethinkers like Stilpo or Theodorus (banished from their own states in Greece for their impiety) were received with the same welcome at court as the translators of the Septuagint or the high priest from Eleusis. Everything, indeed, combined to make Alexandria the centre of attraction for philosophers and men of letters. Besides the natural charms of the place—the bright sunshine, the clear atmosphere, and a soil so rich in flowers and fruits that "a man," says Ammianus, "might almost believe himself in another world"—there was the certainty of royal favour, of learned and congenial society, and (better than all) of a comfortable pension and a luxurious residence in or near the palace. For the further encouragement of literature, Ptolemy I. had founded and liberally endowed the "Museum" (or, as we should call it, "university"), with its porticos and lecture-rooms and dining-hall, and its library of 700,000 volumes—burnt when Alexandria was besieged by Cæsar. In connection with the library there grew up a school of grammarians and critics, whose lives were passed in the usual routine of a royal literary circle,—writing, publishing, dining together, talking scandal, and carrying on an incessant war of words.
In the learned world at Alexandria, some Jews founded a new system of philosophy by blending Judaism with Platonism. They sought for the deeper truth which they believed was hidden under every text of Scripture; intensifying all that was miraculous or supernatural, discarding the literal interpretation, and neglecting the ceremonial law as being merely the symbolism which veiled the truth. Philo headed this "mystical rationalism," tracing Plato's world of ideas back to Moses, but giving them a place in the Word of God as the plan of a building has a place in the mind of the builder. And, in language like that which Plato uses in the "Timæus," he describes how God, an invisible but ever-present Essence, created and ruled the world by means of ministering spirits or potencies, of whom the Word is highest, and second only to Himself.
Philo lived just before the Christian era; and from his time a succession of Alexandrian Jews continued to give to the world their transcendental theories, founded on one portion or another of Plato's writings; some, like Apollonius of Tyana, going back to Pythagoras for their inspiration, and others, like the Therapeutæ, seeking "illumination" in a lonely and ascetic life,—until, towards the end of the second century, the school of Neo-Platonists was founded by Ammonius Saccas. They united the Eastern doctrine of "emanation" with the Platonic doctrine of ideas, believing that the ideas emanated from the One, as the soul emanates from the ideas, and that the last and lowest stage of emanation was the sensible and material world around us. They held it man's duty to purify his soul, and make it pass through various stages of perfection, until at last it should be freed from all contamination of the senses, and, in a sublime moment of ecstasy, enter into actual communion with God. Four times (so Porphyry tells us) his master Plotinus was thus "caught up" in a celestial trance. Indeed, this philosopher was so ashamed of having a body at all, that he would tell no one who were his parents or what was his country, and resolutely refused ever to have his portrait taken; for it was bad enough (he said) that his soul should be veiled at all by an earthly image, and he would never hand down an image of that image to posterity. How deeply he was imbued with Platonism may be seen from the mere titles of the fifty-four treatises which have come down to us. Providence, Time and Eternity, Reason, Being, Ideas, the "Dæmon" who has received each of us in charge,—such are the subjects of some of the chapters in his "Enneads." He at one time even obtained leave of the reigning emperor to found a city in Campania, to be called Platonopolis, whither he and his friends were to retire from the world; but happily the idea was never actually put into execution.
The next generation of Neo-Platonists carried their Mysticism still further. They revived divination and astrology; they interpreted dreams and visions; they consulted oracles; and practised those ancient rites of expiation which Plato himself had so strongly condemned. Iamblichus, one of their number, traced a mysterious affinity between earth and heaven; and on one of Plato's texts—"all things are full of gods"—he constructed a hierarchy of heroes, dæmons, angels, and archangels. Proclus, again—a fanatic who wished that all books might be burnt except Plato's "Timæus"—interpreted his "God-enlightened master" in his own fashion, and perfected himself in every form of ritual, fasting and keeping vigil, celebrating the festival of every god in the pagan calendar, and honouring with mysterious rites the souls of all the dead.
There was one Neo-Platonist in the reign of Trajan whose genial and sympathetic character stands out in strong contrast to the superstition and pedantry of his age. This was Plutarch of Chæronea, better known as a biographer than a philosopher. He discusses the Socratic morality with calm good sense, purges the old mythology, and preaches a purer monotheism than any of his contemporaries.
The last of the Neo-Platonists of whom we have any record was Boethius, who lectured at Athens; and shortly after his time the Emperor Justinian gave the death-blow to Greek philosophy by interdicting all instruction in the Platonic school.
It has been said that "Mysticism finds in Plato all its texts," and certainly most of Christian Mysticism may be traced back to the Neo-Platonists. From their time to our own we find this tendency towards a theologia mystica appearing in one form or another,—whether it be in the secret traditions of the Jewish Cabala—in the preaching of Eckhart in the fourteenth century—in the revival of Neo-Platonism at Florence in the days of Cosmo de Medici—in the science of sympathies taught by Agrippa and Paracelsus—in Jacob Behmen's celestial visions—or in Saint Teresa's "four degrees" of prayer necessary to reach a perfect "quietism."
Plato was regarded by the early Fathers of the Church in the light of another apostle to the Gentiles. Justin Martyr, Jerome, and Lactantius, all speak of him as the wisest and greatest of philosophers. Augustine calls him his converter, and thanks God that he became acquainted with Plato first and with the Gospel afterwards: and Eusebius declared that "he alone of all the Greeks had attained the Porch of Truth." It is easy to understand the grounds of this feeling. Passages from his Dialogues might be multiplied to prove the close similarity which exists between them and the Scriptures, especially the books of the Pentateuch. The picture of the ideal Socrates preaching justice and temperance, and opposing to the self-assertion of the Pharisees of his age the humility of the earnest inquirer and the soberness of truth—his declaration at his trial that he will obey God rather than man, and fears not those who are only able to kill the body—the description of the just man persecuted, scourged, tortured, and finally crucified,[3]—such passages serve to explain the prayer of Erasmus, who added to the invocation of Christian saints in his litany, "Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis;" and the belief of so many of the Fathers that Plato, like St John the Baptist, was a forerunner of Christ. Again, the strong faith in the immortality of the soul—the no less strong sense of the pollution of sin—the belief that virtue is likeness to God—the idea in the "Phædrus" of a word sown in the heart, and bringing forth fruit in due season-the parable of the "Cave" and the Light of the upper world,—are a few instances out of many which might be quoted to show the foreshadowings of Christianity so often traced in Plato. Once, indeed—in the last conversation held by Socrates with his friends—a passage occurs which seems to point even more directly than any we have quoted to a Revelation hereafter to be granted. Simmias, one of the speakers in the Dialogue, thinks it impossible to hope for exact knowledge in the great question they are discussing—the unknown future of the soul; still, he argues, they should persevere in the search for truth, taking the best of human words to bear them up "as on a raft" through the stormy waters of life; but their voyage on this frail bark would be perilous, unless they might hope to meet with some securer stay—some "word from God," it might be.
Passages of this sort explain sufficiently the grounds of the reverence with which Plato was regarded by the Eastern Church, and especially in the school for catechists at Alexandria, where Clement and Origen taught. They even go far to justify the belief of Augustine that Plato might perhaps have listened to Jeremiah in Egypt, and that in his esoteric lectures in the Academy he revealed the mystery of the Trinity to a few chosen disciples.
Tertullian, on the other hand, declaimed bitterly at Carthage against all Greek philosophy. He headed the reaction which had set in against the Gnostics of a former century, who had changed Plato's "Ideas" into a world of Æons, and held that the Word, Wisdom, and Power, were so many emanations from the divine mind. Platonism Tertullian held to be the source of all heresies, and denied that there could be any fellowship between the disciple of Greece and the disciple of heaven, or between the Church and the Academy.
Boethius, as we have said, was the last Neo-Platonist; and his "Consolations of Philosophy" is the link between the old world and the new. Then came the Dark Ages, when the classics were only read by monks and churchmen, till they were revived in the schools of Alcuin and Charlemagne.
Philosophy soon passed into scholasticism, and was confined to the dogmas of the Church; and throughout the Middle Ages we find two great hostile camps among the Schoolmen—the Realists and Nominalists—each fighting under the shadow of a great name; Plato being the first (said Milton) "who brought the monster of Realism into the schools," in his doctrine of Ideas, so sharply criticised by Aristotle. The question at issue between these two parties was whether Universals had a real and substantial existence, subject to none of the change and decay which affects particulars, or whether (as the Nominalists argued) they were merely general names expressive of general notions.
Early in the thirteenth century came a reaction from the East in favour of Aristotle. His writings (which had escaped destruction by the merest accident) had been translated as early as the fifth century into Syriac and Arabic; the Jews had translated them into Latin; and the conquests of the Arabs in Spain had brought them to the knowledge of the Schoolmen. Averroes, the greatest of Arabian commentators, looked upon Aristotle as the only man whom God had suffered to attain perfection, and as the source of all true science. He died in A.D. 1198, Just before the rule of the Moors in Spain came to an end; but "Averroism," with its pantheistic tenets, long survived its founder.
Albert of Bollstadt, Provincial of the Dominican order in Germany, "the universal doctor" (who bears a kind of half-mythical reputation as Albertus Magnus), reduced Aristotle's writings to a system. His pupil, Thomas Aquinas, "the angelic doctor," soon followed in his steps, rejecting all the texts of Platonism, denying innate ideas, or à priori reasoning in theology; but he is so far a realist that he recognises the existence of universals ante rem—that is, in the divine mind; and post rem—that is, obtained by the effort of the individual reason. His contemporary, Duns Scotus, "the subtle doctor," went further, and assailed Platonism with every weapon that the logic of his age supplied; while, later on, William of Ockham, "the invincible doctor," revived Nominalism, and regarded universals as a mere conception of the mind. Realism passed out of date with Descartes in the sixteenth century, and the tendency of all modern philosophy has been distinctly towards Nominalism. Our own great philosophical writers, Hobbes, Berkeley, Hume, and Locke, all maintain that it is possible to have general names as the signs or images of general ideas.
Bacon, the contemporary of Descartes, denounced the wisdom of the Greeks as being "showy and disputatious;" their logic he considers useless, their induction haphazard, their dialectic "the mere chattering of children;" and among one of the grand causes of human error—"the idols of the theatre," as he terms them[4]—he ranks the Platonic "Ideas."
Once again an attempt was made to revive Platonism, at the end of the seventeenth century, by Cudworth, a writer of profound classical learning, who maintained that there were certain eternal and immutable verities which can only be comprehended by reason, can never be learned by experience, and cannot be changed by the will or opinion of men. And in this sense every intuitive moralist may be said to be a Platonist; for the doctrine of a moral sense, which apprehends of itself the distinctions of right and wrong, and is not merely the product of society or association, has its origin in the Platonic theory of "reminiscence."
END OF PLATO.