Early Greek Philosophy (pre-Socratic fragments and testimony)

Diels formerly read ἔκ πη ἐόντος, “from that which in any way is”; but he has now reverted to the reading ἔκ μὴ ἐόντος, supposing that the other horn of the dilemma has dropped out. In any case, “nothing but what is not can arise from what is not” gives a perfectly good sense. For the difficulties which have been felt about μᾶλλον here, see Diels’s note. If the word is to be pressed, his interpretation is admissible; but it seems to me that this is simply an instance of “polar expression.” It is true that it is only the case of there being less of what is in one place than another that is important for the divisibility of the One; but if there is less in one place, there is more in another than in that place. The Greek language tends to express these implications. The position of the relative clause makes a difficulty for us, but hardly for a Greek. Simplicius certainly read μὴ ἐὸν δ’ ἂν παντὸς ἐδεῖτο, which is metrically impossible. I followed Bergk in deleting μή, and have interpreted with Zeller. So too Diels. For the construction of ἔστι νοεῖν, see above, p. 198, n. 435.

As Diels rightly points out, the Ionic φατίζειν is equivalent to ὀνομάζειν. The meaning, I think, is this. We may name things as we choose, but there can be no thought corresponding to a name that is not the name of something real. This is Zeller’s way of taking the words, and still seems to me the best. Diels objects that ἑτέρην would be required, and renders nur eine derselben, das sei unerlaubt, giving the words to the “mortals.” This seems to me to involve more serious grammatical difficulties than the use of μίαν for τὴν ἑτέραν, which is quite legitimate when there is an emphasis on the number. Aristotle must have taken it so; for he infers that one of the μορφαί is to be identified with τὸ ἐόν. Note the curious echo of Il. v. 214. Empedokles has it too (v. 154). It appears to be a joke, made in the spirit of Xenophanes, when it was first discovered that the moon shone by reflected light.

This fragment of the theory of knowledge which was expounded in the second part of the poem of Parmenides must be taken in connexion with what we are told by Theophrastos in the “Fragment on Sensation” (Dox. p. 499; cf. p. 222). It appears from this that he said the character of men’s thought depended upon the preponderance of the light or the dark element in their bodies. They are wise when the light element predominates, and foolish when the dark gets the upper hand. This is a fragment of Parmenides’s embryology. Diels’s fr. 18 is a retranslation of the Latin hexameters of Caelius Aurelianus quoted R. P. 127 a. [Sidenote: “It is.”]

86. In the First Part of his poem, we find Parmenides chiefly interested to prove that it is; but it is not quite obvious at first sight what it is precisely that is. He says simply, What is, is. To us this does not seem very clear, and that for two reasons. In the first place, we should never think of doubting it, and we cannot, therefore, understand why it should be asserted with such iteration and vigour. In the second place, we are accustomed to all sorts of distinctions between different kinds and degrees of reality, and we do not see which of these is meant. Such distinctions, however, were quite unknown in those days. “That which is,” with Parmenides, is primarily what, in popular language, we call matter or body; only it is not matter as distinguished from anything else. It is certainly regarded as spatially extended; for it is quite seriously spoken of as a sphere (fr. 8, 40). Moreover, Aristotle tells us that Parmenides believed in none but a sensible reality, which does not necessarily mean with him a reality that is actually perceived by the senses, but includes any which might be so perceived if the senses were more perfect than they are. Parmenides does not say a word about “Being” anywhere. The assertion that it is amounts just to this, that the universe is a plenum; and that there is no such thing as empty space, either inside or outside the world. From this it follows that there can be no such thing as motion. Instead of endowing the One with an impulse to change, as Herakleitos had done, and thus making it capable of explaining the world, Parmenides dismissed change as an illusion. He showed once for all that if you take the One seriously you are bound to deny everything else. All previous solutions of the question, therefore, had missed the point. Anaximenes, who thought to save the unity of the primary substance by his theory of rarefaction and condensation, did not observe that, by assuming there was less of what is in one place than another, he virtually affirmed the existence of what is not (fr. 8, 42). The Pythagorean explanation implied that empty space or air existed outside the world, and that it entered into it to separate the units (§ 53). It, too, assumes the existence of what is not. Nor is the theory of Herakleitos any more satisfactory; for it is based upon the contradiction that fire both is and is not (fr. 6).

Arist. de Caelo, Γ, 1. 298 b 21, ἐκεῖνοι δὲ (οἱ περὶ Μέλισσόν τε καὶ Παρμενίδην) διὰ τὸ μηθὲν μὲν ἄλλο παρὰ τὴν τῶν αἰσθητῶν οὐσίαν ὑπολαμβάνειν εἶναι κ.τ.λ. So too Eudemos, in the first book of his Physics (ap. Simpl. Phys. p. 133, 25), said of Parmenides: τὸ μὲν οὖν κοινὸν οὐκ ἂν λέγοι. οὔτε γὰρ ἐζητεῖτό πω τὰ τοιαῦτα, ἀλλ’ ὕστερον ἐκ τῶν λόγων προήλθεν, οὔτε ἐπιδέχοιτο ἂν ἂ τῷ ὅντι ἐπιλέγει. πῶς γὰρ ἔσται τοῦτο “μέσσοθεν ἰσοπαλὲς” καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα; τῷ δὲ οὐρανῷ (the world) σχεδὸν πάντες ἐφαρμόσουσιν οἱ τοιοῦτοι λόγοι The Neoplatonists, of course, saw in the One the νοητὸς κόσμος, and Simplicius calls the sphere a “mythical figment.” See especially Baümker, “Die Einheit des Parmenideischen Seiendes” (Jahrb. f. kl. Phil. 1886, pp. 541 sqq.), and Das Problem der Materie, pp. 50 sqq. We must not render τὸ ἐόν by “Being,” das Sein or l’être. It is “what is,” das Seiende, ce qui est. As to (τὸ) εἶναι it does not, and could not, occur. Cf. p. 198, n. 435, above.

The allusion to Herakleitos in the verses last referred to has been doubted, though upon insufficient grounds. Zeller points out quite rightly that Herakleitos never says Being and not-Being are the same (the common translation of fr. 6, 8); and, were there nothing more than this, the reference might well seem doubtful. The statement, however, that, according to the view in question, “all things travel in opposite directions,” can hardly be understood of anything but the “upward and downward path” of Herakleitos (§ 71). And, as we have seen, Parmenides does not attribute the view that Being and not-Being are the same to the philosopher whom he is attacking; he only says that it is and is not, the same and not the same. That is the natural meaning of the words; and it furnishes a very accurate description of the theory of Herakleitos. See above, p. 198, n. 437. [Sidenote: The method of Parmenides.]

87. The great novelty in the poem of Parmenides is the method of argument. He first asks what is the common presupposition of all the views with which he has to deal, and he finds that this is the existence of what is not. The next question is whether this can be thought, and the answer is that it cannot. If you think at all, you must think of something. Therefore there is no nothing. Philosophy had not yet learned to make the admission that a thing might be unthinkable and nevertheless exist. Only that can be which can be thought (fr. 5); for thought exists for the sake of what is (fr. 8, 34).

This method Parmenides carries out with the utmost rigour. He will not have us pretend that we think what we must admit to be unthinkable. It is true that if we resolve to allow nothing but what we can understand, we come into direct conflict with the evidence of our senses, which present us with a world of change and decay. So much the worse for the senses, says Parmenides. To many this will doubtless seem a mistake on his part, but let us see what history has to say on the point. The theory of Parmenides is the inevitable outcome of a corporeal monism, and his bold declaration of it ought to have destroyed that theory for ever. If he had lacked courage to work out the prevailing views of his time to their logical conclusion, and to accept that conclusion, however paradoxical it might seem to be, men might have gone on in the endless circle of opposition, rarefaction and condensation, one and many, for ever. It was the thorough-going dialectic of Parmenides that made progress possible. Philosophy must now cease to be monistic or cease to be corporealist. It could not cease to be corporealist; for the incorporeal was still unknown. It therefore ceased to be monistic, and arrived at the atomic theory, which, so far as we know, is the last word of the view that the world is matter in motion. Having worked out its problems on those conditions, philosophy next attacked them on the other side. It ceased to be corporealist, and found it possible to be monistic once more, at least for a time. This progress would have been impossible but for that faith in reason which gave Parmenides the courage to reject as untrue what was to him unthinkable, however strange the result might be.

[Sidenote: The results.] 88. He goes on to develop all the consequences of the admission that it is. It must be uncreated and indestructible. It cannot have arisen out of nothing; for there is no such thing as nothing. Nor can it have arisen from something; for there is no room for anything but itself. What is cannot have beside it any empty space in which something else might arise; for empty space is nothing, nothing cannot be thought, and therefore cannot exist. What is, never came into being, nor is anything going to come into being in the future. “Is it or is it not?” If it is, then it is now, all at once. That Parmenides was really denying the existence of empty space was quite well known to Plato. He says that Parmenides held “all things were one, and that the one remains at rest in itself, having no place in which to move.” Aristotle is no less clear. In the de Caelo he lays it down that Parmenides was driven to take up the position that the One was immovable just because no one had yet imagined that there was any reality other than sensible reality.

Plato, Tht. 180 e 3, ὡς ἕν τε πάντα ἐστὶ καὶ ἕστηκεν αὐτὸ ἐν αὐτῷ οὐκ ἔχον χώραν ἐν ᾗ κινεῖται. Arist. de Caelo, Γ, 1. 298 b 21, quoted above, p. 203, n. 449. That which is, is; and it cannot be more or less. There is, therefore, as much of it in one place as in another, and the world is a continuous, indivisible plenum. From this it follows at once that it must be immovable. If it moved, it must move into an empty space, and there is no empty space. It is hemmed in by what is, by the real, on every side. For the same reason, it must be finite, and can have nothing beyond it. It is complete in itself, and has no need to stretch out indefinitely into an empty space that does not exist. Hence, too, it is spherical. It is equally real in every direction, and the sphere is the only form which meets this condition. Any other would be in one direction more than in another. And this sphere cannot even move round its own axis; for there is nothing outside of it with reference to which it could be said to move. [Sidenote: Parmenides the father of materialism.]

89. To sum up. What is, is a finite, spherical, motionless corporeal plenum, and there is nothing beyond it. The appearances of multiplicity and motion, empty space and time, are illusions. We see from this that the primary substance of which the early cosmologists were in search has now become a sort of “thing in itself.” It never quite lost this character again. What appears later as the elements of Empedokles, the so-called “homoeomeries” of Anaxagoras and the atoms of Leukippos and Demokritos, is just the Parmenidean “being.” Parmenides is not, as some have said, the “father of idealism”; on the contrary, all materialism depends on his view of reality. [Sidenote: The beliefs of “mortals.”]

90. It is commonly said that, in the Second Part of his poem, Parmenides offered a dualistic theory of the origin of things as his own conjectural explanation of the sensible world, or that, as Gomperz says, “What he offered were the Opinions of Mortals; and this description did not merely cover other people’s opinions. It included his own as well, as far as they were not confined to the unassailable ground of an apparent philosophical necessity.” Now it is true that in one place Aristotle appears to countenance a view of this sort, but nevertheless it is an anachronism. Nor is it really Aristotle’s view. He was perfectly well aware that Parmenides did not admit the existence of “not-being” in any degree whatever; but it was a natural way speaking to call the cosmology of the Second Part of the poem that of Parmenides. His hearers would understand at once in what sense this was meant. At any rate, the Peripatetic tradition was that Parmenides, in the Second Part of the poem, meant to give the belief of “the many.” This is how Theophrastos put the matter, and Alexander seems to have spoken of the cosmology as something which Parmenides himself regarded as wholly false. The other view comes from the Neoplatonists, and especially Simplicius, who very naturally regarded the Way of Truth as an account of the intelligible world, and the Way of Opinion as a description of the sensible. It need hardly be said that this is almost as great an anachronism as the Kantian parallelism suggested by Gomperz. Parmenides himself tells us in the most unequivocal language that there is no truth at all in the theory which he expounds, and he gives it merely as the belief of “mortals.” It was this that led Theophrastos to speak of it as the opinion of “the many.”

Greek Thinkers, pp. 180 sqq. Met. Α, 5. 986 b 31 (R. P. 121 a). Aristotle’s way of putting the matter is due to his interpretation of fr. 8, 54, which he took to mean that one of the two “forms” was to be identified with τὸ ὄν and the other with τὸ μὴ ὄν. Cf. Gen. Corr. Α, 3. 318 b 6, ὥσπερ Παρμενίδης λέγει δύο, τὸ ὂν καὶ τὸ μὴ ὂν εἶναι φάσκων. This last sentence shows clearly that when Aristotle says Παρμενίδης, he means what we should call “Parmenides.” He cannot have supposed that Parmenides admitted the being of τὸ μὴ ὄν in any sense whatever (cf. Plato, Soph. 241 d 5). Theophr. Phys. Op. fr. 6 (Dox. p. 482; R. P. 121 a), κατὰ δόξαν δὲ τῶν πολλῶν εἰς τὸ γένεσιν ἀποδοῦναι τῶν φαινομένων δύο ποιῶν τὰς ἀρχάς. For Alexander cf. Simpl. Phys. p. 38, 24.

Simpl. Phys. p. 39, 10 (R. P. 121 b). Gomperz, Greek Thinkers, p. 180. E. Meyer says (Gesch. des Alterth. iv. § 510, Anm.): “How too can we think that a teacher of wisdom taught his disciples nothing as to the way in which they must take the existing sensible world, even if only as a deception?” This implies (1) that the distinction between Appearance and Reality had been clearly grasped; and (2) that a certain hypothetical and relative truth was allowed to Appearance. These are palpable anachronisms. Both views are Platonic, and they were not held even by Plato in his earlier writings.

His explanation however, though preferable to that of Simplicius, is not convincing either. “The many” are as far as possible from believing in an elaborate dualism such as Parmenides expounded, and it is a highly artificial hypothesis to assume that he wished to show how the popular view of the world could best be systematised. “The many” would hardly be convinced of their error by having their beliefs presented to them in a form which they would certainly fail to recognise. This, indeed, seems the most incredible interpretation of all. It still, however, finds adherents, so it is necessary to point out that the beliefs in question are called “the opinions of mortals” simply because the speaker is a goddess. Further, we have to note that Parmenides forbids two ways of research, and we have seen that the second of these, which is also expressly ascribed to “mortals,” must be the system of Herakleitos. We should surely expect, then, to find that the other way too is the system of some contemporary school, and it seems hard to discover any of sufficient importance except the Pythagorean. Now it is admitted by every one that there are Pythagorean ideas in the Second Part of the poem, and it is therefore to be presumed, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, that the whole system comes from the same source. It does not appear that Parmenides said any more about Herakleitos than the words to which we have just referred, in which he forbids the second way of inquiry. He implies, indeed, that there are really only two ways that can be thought of, and that the attempt of Herakleitos to combine them was futile. In any case, the Pythagoreans were far more serious opponents at that date in Italy, and it is certainly to them that we should expect Parmenides to define his attitude.

Cf. frs. 4 and 6, especially the words αἵπερ ὁδοὶ μοῦναι διζήσιός εἰσι νοῆσαι. The third way, that of Herakleitos, is only added as an afterthought—αὐτὰρ ἔπειτ’ ἀπὸ τῆς κ.τ.λ.

It is still not quite clear, however, why he should have thought it worth while to put into hexameters a view which he believed to be false. Here it becomes important to remember that he had been a Pythagorean himself, and that the poem is a renunciation of his former beliefs. In such cases men commonly feel the necessity of showing where their old views were wrong. The goddess tells him that he must learn of those beliefs also “how men ought to have judged that the things which seem to them really are.” That is clear so far; but it does not explain the matter fully. We get a further hint in another place. He is to learn these beliefs “in order that no opinion of mortals may ever get the better of him” (fr. 8, 61). If we remember that the Pythagorean system at this time was handed down by oral tradition alone, we shall perhaps see what this means. Parmenides was founding a dissident school, and it was quite necessary for him to instruct his disciples in the system they might be called upon to oppose. In any case, they could not reject it intelligently without a knowledge of it, and this Parmenides had to supply himself.

I read χρῆν δοκιμῶσ’ εἶναι in fr. 1, 32 with Diels, but I do not feel able to accept his rendering wie man bei gründlicher Durchforschung annehmen müsste, dass sich jenes Scheinwesen verhalte. We must, I think, take χρῆν δοκιμῶσαι (i.e. δοκιμάσαι) quite strictly, and χρῆν with the infinitive means “ought to have.” The most natural subject for the infinitive in that case is βροτούς, while εἶναι will be dependent on δοκιμῶσαι, and have τὰ δοκοῦντα for its subject. This way of taking the words is confirmed by fr. 8, 54, τῶν μίαν οὐ χρεών ἐστιν, if taken as I have taken it with Zeller. See above, p. 201, n. 445.

The view that the opinions contained in the Second Part are those of others, and are not given as true in any sense whatsoever, is that of Diels. The objections of Wilamowitz (Hermes, xxxiv. pp. 203 sqq.) do not appear to me cogent. If we interpret him rightly, Parmenides never says that “this hypothetical explanation is ... better than that of any one else” (E. Meyer, iv. § 510, Anm.). What he does say is that it is untrue altogether. It seems to me, however, that Diels has weakened his case by refusing to identify the theory here expounded with Pythagoreanism, and referring it mainly to Herakleitos. Herakleitos was emphatically not a dualist, and I cannot see that to represent him as one is even what Diels calls a “caricature” of his theory. Caricatures must have some point of likeness. It is still more surprising to me that Patin, who makes ἓν πάντα εἶναι the corner-stone of Herakleiteanism, should adopt this view (Parmenides im Kampfe gegen Heraklit, 1899). E. Meyer (loc. cit.) seems to think that the fact of Zeno’s having modified the δόξα of Parmenides in an Empedoklean sense (Diog. ix. 29; R. P. 140) proves that it was supposed to have some sort of truth. On the contrary, it would only show, if true, that Zeno had other opponents to face than Parmenides had.

[Sidenote: The dualist cosmology.]

91. The view that the Second Part of the poem of Parmenides was a sketch of contemporary Pythagorean cosmology is, doubtless, incapable of rigorous demonstration, but it can, I think, be made extremely probable. The entire history of Pythagoreanism up to the end of the fifth century B.C. is certainly conjectural; but, if we find in Parmenides ideas which are wholly unconnected with his own view of the world, and if we find precisely the same ideas in later Pythagoreanism, the most natural inference will surely be that the later Pythagoreans derived these views from their predecessors, and that they formed part of the original stock-in-trade of the society to which they belonged. This will only be confirmed if we find that they are developments of certain features in the old Ionian cosmology. Pythagoras came from Samos, which always stood in the closest relations with Miletos; and it was not, so far as we can see, in his cosmological views that he chiefly displayed his originality. It has been pointed out above (§ 53) that the idea of the world breathing came from Anaximenes, and we need not be surprised to find traces of Anaximander as well. Now, if we were confined to what Aristotle tells us on this subject, it would be almost impossible to make out a case; but his statements require, as usual, to be examined with a certain amount of care. He says, first of all, that the two elements of Parmenides were the Warm and the Cold. In this he is so far justified by the fragments that, since the Fire of which Parmenides speaks is, of course, warm, the other “form,” which has all the opposite qualities, must of necessity be cold. But, nevertheless, the habitual use of the terms “the warm” and “the cold” is an accommodation to Aristotle’s own system. In Parmenides himself they were simply one pair of attributes amongst others.

Met. Α, 5. 986 b 34, θερμὸν καὶ ψυχρόν; Phys. Α, 5. 188 a 20; Gen. Corr. Α, 3. 318 b 6; Β, 3. 330 b 14.

Still more misleading is Aristotle’s identification of these with Fire and Earth. It is not quite certain that he meant to say Parmenides himself made this identification; but, on the whole, it is most likely that he did, and Theophrastos certainly followed him in this. It is another question whether it is accurate. Simplicius, who had the poem before him (§ 85), after mentioning Fire and Earth, at once adds “or rather Light and Darkness”; and this is suggestive enough. Lastly, Aristotle’s identification of the dense element with “what is not,” the unreal of the First Part of the poem, is not very easy to reconcile with the view that it is earth. On the other hand, if we suppose that the second of the two “forms,” the one which should not have been “named,” is the Pythagorean Air or Void, we get a very good explanation of Aristotle’s identification of it with “what is not.” We seem, then, to be justified in neglecting the identification of the dense element with earth for the present. At a later stage, we shall be able to see how it may have originated. The further statement of Theophrastos, that the Warm was the efficient cause and the Cold the material or passive, is intelligible enough if we identify them with the Limit and the Unlimited respectively; but is not, of course, to be regarded as historical.

Phys. Α, 5. 188 a 21, ταῦτα δὲ (θερμὸν καὶ ψυχρὸν) προσαγορεύει πῦρ καὶ γῆν; Met. Α, 5. 986 b 34, οἷον πῦρ καὶ γῆν λέγων. Cf. Theophr. Phys. Op. fr. 6 (Dox. p. 482; R. P. 121 a). [Plut.] Strom. fr. 5 (Dox. p. 581), λέγει δὲ τῆν γῆν τοῦ πυκνοῦ καταρρυέντος ἀέρος γεγονέναι. Zeller, p. 568, n. 1 (Eng. trans. p. 593, n. 2). Phys. p. 25, 15, ὡς Παρμενίδης ἐν τοῖς πρὸς δόξαν πῦρ καὶ γῆν (ἢ μᾶλλον φῶς καὶ σκότος). Met. Α, 5. 986 b 35, τούτων δὲ κατὰ μὲν τὸ ὂν τὸ θερμὸν τάττει, θάτερον δὲ κατὰ τὸ μὴ ὄν. See above, p. 208, n. 457. See below, Chap. VII. § 147. Theophr. Phys. Op. fr. 6 (Dox. p. 482; R. P. 121 a), followed by the doxographers.

We have seen that Simplicius, with the poem of Parmenides before him, corrects Aristotle by substituting Light and Darkness for Fire and Earth, and in this he is amply borne out by the fragments which he quotes. Parmenides himself calls one “form” Light, Flame, and Fire, and the other Night, and we have now to consider whether these can be identified with the Pythagorean Limit and Unlimited. We have seen good reason to believe (§ 58) that the idea of the world breathing belonged to the earliest form of Pythagoreanism, and there can be no difficulty in identifying this “boundless breath” with Darkness, which stands very well for the Unlimited. “Air” or mist was always regarded as the dark element. And that which gives definiteness to the vague darkness is certainly light or fire, and this may account for the prominence given to that element by Hippasos. We may probably conclude, then, that the Pythagorean distinction between the Limit and the Unlimited, which we shall have to consider later (Chap. VII.), made its first appearance in this crude form. If, on the other hand, we identify darkness with the Limit, and light with the Unlimited, as most critics do, we get into insuperable difficulties.

Note the identification of the dense element with “air” in [Plut.] Strom., quoted p. 213, n. 462; and for the identification of this “air” with “mist and darkness,” cf. Chap. I. § 27, and Chap. V. § 107. It is to be observed further that Plato puts this last identification into the mouth of a Pythagorean (Tim. 52 d). See above, p. 121. [Sidenote: The heavenly bodies.] 92. We must now look at the general cosmical view expounded in the Second Part of the poem. The fragments are scanty, and the doxographical tradition hard to interpret; but enough remains to show that here, too, we are on Pythagorean ground. All discussion of the subject must start from the following important passage of Aetios:—

Parmenides held that there were crowns crossing one another and encircling one another, formed of the rare and the dense element respectively, and that between these there were other mixed crowns made up of light and darkness. That which surrounds them all was solid like a wall, and under it is a fiery crown. That which is in the middle of all the crowns is also solid, and surrounded in turn by a fiery circle. The central circle of the mixed crowns is the cause of movement and becoming to all the rest. He calls it “the goddess who directs their course,” “the Holder of Lots,” and “Necessity.” Aet. ii. 7. 1 (R. P. 126). It seems most likely that ἐπαλλήλους here means “crossing one another,” as the Milky Way crosses the Zodiac. The term ἐπάλληλος is opposed to παράλληλος. [Sidenote: The “crowns.”]

93. The first thing we have to observe is that it is quite unjustifiable to regard these “crowns” as spheres. The word στέφαναι can mean “rims” or “brims” or anything of that sort, but it seems incredible that it should be used of spheres. It does not appear, either, that the solid circle which surrounds all the crowns is to be regarded as spherical. The expression “like a wall” would be highly inappropriate in that case. We seem, then, to be face to face with something of the same kind as the “wheels” of Anaximander, and it is obviously quite likely that Pythagoras should have taken this theory from him. Nor is evidence altogether lacking that the Pythagoreans did regard the heavenly bodies in this way. In Plato’s Myth of Er, which is certainly Pythagorean in its general character, we do not hear of spheres, but of the “lips” of concentric whorls fitted into one another like a nest of boxes. Even in the Timaeus there are no spheres, but bands or strips crossing each other at an angle. Lastly, in the Homeric Hymn to Ares, which seems to have been composed under Pythagorean influence, the word used for the orbit of the planet is ἄντυξ, which must mean “rim.”

Rep. x. 616 d 5, καθάπερ οἱ κάδοι οἱ εἰς ἀλλήλους ἁρμόττοντες; e 1, κύκλους ἄνωθεν τὰ χείλη φαίνοντας (σφονδύλους). Tim. 36 b 6, ταύτην οὖν τὴν σύστασιν πᾶσαν διπλῆν κατὰ μῆκος σχίσας, μέσην πρὸς μέσην ἐκατέραν ἀλλήλαις οἷον χεῖ (the letter Χ) προσβαλὼν κατέκαμψεν εἰς ἓν κύκλῳ. Hymn to Ares, 6: πυραυγέα κύκλον ἑλίσσων αἰθέρος ἑπταπόροις ἐνὶ τείρεσιν, ἔνθα σε πῶλοι ζαφλεγέες τριτάτης ὑπὲρ ἄντυγος αἰὲν ἔχουσι. So, in allusion to an essentially Pythagorean view, Proclus says to the planet Venus (h. iv. 17): εἴτε καὶ ἑπτὰ κύκλων ὑπὲρ ἄντυγας αἰθέρα ναίεις. The fact is, there is really no evidence that any one ever adopted the theory of celestial spheres at all, till Aristotle turned the geometrical construction which Eudoxos had set up as a hypothesis “to save appearances” (σῴζειν τὰ φαινόμενα ) into real things. From that time forward we hear a great deal about spheres, and it was natural that later writers should attribute them to the Pythagoreans; but there is no occasion to do violence to the language of Parmenides by turning his “crowns” into anything of the sort. At this date, spheres would not have served to explain anything that could not be explained more simply without them.

On the concentric spheres of Eudoxos, see Dreyer, Planetary Systems, chap. iv. It is unfortunate that the account of Plato’s astronomy given in this work is wholly inadequate, owing to the writer’s excessive reliance on Boeckh, who was led by evidence now generally regarded as untrustworthy to attribute all the astronomy of the Academy to their predecessors, and especially to Philolaos.

We are next told that these “crowns” encircle one another or are folded over one another, and that they are made of the rare and the dense element. We also learn that between them are “mixed crowns” made up of light and darkness. Now it is to be observed, in the first place, that light and darkness are exactly the same thing as the rare and the dense, and it looks as if there was some confusion here. It may be doubted whether these statements are based on anything else than fr. 12, which might certainly be interpreted to mean that between the crowns of fire there were crowns of night with a portion of fire in them. That may be right; but I think it is rather more natural to understand the passage as saying that the narrower circles are surrounded by wider circles of night, each with its portion of fire rushing in the midst of it. These last words would then be a simple repetition of the statement that the narrower circles are filled with unmixed fire, and we should have a fairly exact reproduction of the planetary system of Anaximander. It is, however, possible, though I think less likely, that Parmenides represented the space between the circles as occupied by similar rings in which the fire and darkness were mixed instead of having the fire enclosed in the darkness.

Such a repetition (παλινδρομία) is characteristic of all Greek style, but the repetition at the end of the period generally adds a new touch to the statement at the opening. The new touch is here given in the word ἵεται. I do not press this interpretation, but it seems to me much the simplest. [Sidenote: The goddess.]

94. “In the middle of those,” says Parmenides, “is the goddess who steers the course of all things.” Aetios, that is, Theophrastos, explains this to mean in the middle of the mixed crowns, while Simplicius declares that it means in the middle of all the crowns, that is to say, in the centre of the world. It is not very likely that either of them had anything better to go upon than the words of Parmenides just quoted, and these are ambiguous. Simplicius, as is clear from the language he uses, identified this goddess with the Pythagorean Hestia or central fire, while Theophrastos could not do this, because he knew and stated that Parmenides held the earth to be round and in the centre of the world. In this very passage we are told that what is in the middle of all the crowns is solid. The data furnished by Theophrastos, in fact, exclude the identification of the goddess with the central fire altogether. We cannot say that what is in the middle of all the crowns is solid, and that under it there is again a fiery crown. Nor does it seem fitting to relegate a goddess to the middle of a solid spherical earth. We must try to find a place for her elsewhere.

Simpl. Phys. p. 34, 14 (R. P. 125 b). Diog. ix. 21 (R. P. 126 a). I do not discuss the interpretation of περὶ ὃ πάλιν πυρώδης which Diels gave in Parmenides Lehrgedicht, p. 104, and which is adopted in R. P. 162 a, as it is now virtually retracted. In the second edition of his Vorsokratiker (p. 111) he reads καὶ τὸ μεσαίτατον πασῶν στερεόν, <ὑφ’ ᾧ> πάλιν πυρώδης [sc. στεφάνη]. That is a flat contradiction. It is of interest to observe that Mr. Adam also gets into the interior of the earth in his interpretation of the Myth of Er. It is instructive, too, because it shows that we are really dealing with the same order of ideas. The most heroic attempt to save the central fire for Pythagoras was my own hypothesis of an annular earth (1st ed. p. 203). This has met with well-deserved ridicule; but all the same it is the only possible solution on these lines. We shall see in Chap. VII. that the central fire belongs to the later development of Pythagoreanism.

We are further told by Aetios that this goddess was called Ananke and the “Holder of Lots.” We know already that she steers the course of all things, that is, that she regulates the motions of the celestial crowns. Simplicius adds, unfortunately without quoting the actual words, that she sends souls at one time from the light to the unseen world, at another from the unseen world to the light. It would be difficult to describe more exactly what the goddess does in the Myth of Er, and so here once more we seem to be on Pythagorean ground. It is to be noticed further that in fr. 10 we read how Ananke took the heavens and compelled them to hold fast the fixed courses of the stars, and that in fr. 12 we are told that she is the beginner of all pairing and birth. Lastly, in fr. 13 we hear that she created Eros first of all the gods. Modern parallels are dangerous, but it is not really going much beyond what is written to say that this Eros is the Will to Live, which leads to successive rebirths of the soul. So we shall find that in Empedokles it is an ancient oracle or decree of Ananke that causes the gods to fall and become incarnate in a cycle of births.

R. P. 126, where Fülleborn’s ingenious emendation κλῃδοῦχον for κληροῦχον is tacitly adopted. This is based upon the view that Aetios (or Theophrastos) was thinking of the goddess that keeps the keys in the Proem (fr. 1, 14). I now think that the κλῆροι of the Myth of Er are the true explanation of the name. Philo uses the term κληροῦχος θεός. Simpl. Phys. p. 39, 19, καὶ τὰς ψυχὰς πέμπειν ποτὲ μὲν ἐκ τοῦ ἐμφανοῦς εἰς τὸ ἀειδές (i.e. ἀιδές), ποτὲ δὲ ἀνάπαλίν φησιν. We should probably connect this with the statement of Diog. ix. 22 (R. P. 127) that men arose from the sun (reading ἡλίου with the MSS. for the conjecture ἰλύος in the Basel edition). Empedokles, fr. 115.

We should, then, be more certain of the place which this goddess occupies in the universe if we could be quite sure where Ananke is in the Myth of Er. Without, however, raising that vexed question, we may lay down with some confidence that, according to Theophrastos, she occupied a position midway between the earth and the heavens. Whether we believe in the “mixed crowns” or not makes no difference in this respect; for the statement of Aetios that she was in the middle of the mixed crowns undoubtedly implies that she was in that region. Now she is identified with one of the crowns in a somewhat confused passage of Cicero, and we have seen above (p. 69) that the whole theory of wheels or crowns was probably suggested by the Milky Way. It seems to me, therefore, that we must think of the Milky Way as a crown intermediate between the crowns of the Sun and the Moon, and this agrees very well with the prominent way in which it is mentioned in fr. 11. It is better not to be too positive about the other details of the system, though it is interesting to notice that according to some it was Pythagoras, and according to others Parmenides, who discovered the identity of the evening and morning star. That fits in exactly with our general view.

Cicero, de nat. D. i. 11, 28: “Nam Parmenides quidem commenticium quiddam coronae simile efficit (στεφάνην appellat), continente ardore lucis orbem, qui cingat caelum, quem appellat deum.” We may connect with this the statement of Aetios, ii. 20, 8, τὸν ἥλιον καὶ τὴν σελήνην ἐκ τοῦ γαλαξίου κύκλου ἀποκριθῆναι. Diog. ix. 23, καὶ δοκεῖ (Παρμενίδης) πρῶτος πεφωρακέναι τὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι Ἕσπερον καὶ Φωσφόρον, ὥς φησι Φαβωρῖνος ἐν πέμπτῳ Ἀπομνημονευμάτων· οἱ δὲ Πυθαγόραν. If, as Achilles says, the poet Ibykos of Rhegion had anticipated Parmenides in announcing this discovery, that is to be explained by the fact that Rhegion had become the chief seat of the Pythagorean school.

Besides all this, it is quite certain that Parmenides went on to describe how the other gods were born and how they fell, an idea which we know to be Orphic, and which may well have been Pythagorean. We shall come to it again in Empedokles. In Plato’s Symposium, Agathon couples Parmenides with Hesiod as a narrator of ancient deeds of violence committed by the gods. If Parmenides was expounding the Pythagorean theology, all this is just what we should expect; but it seems hopeless to explain it on any of the other theories which have been advanced on the purpose of the Way of Belief. Such things do not follow naturally from the ordinary view of the world, and we have no reason to suppose that Herakleitos expounded his views of the upward and downward path of the soul in this form. He certainly did hold that the guardian spirits entered into human bodies; but the whole point of his theory was that he gave a naturalistic rather than a theological account of the process. Still less can we think it probable that Parmenides made up these stories himself in order to show what the popular view of the world really implied if properly formulated. We must ask, I think, that any theory on the subject shall account for what was evidently no inconsiderable portion of the poem.

Plato, Symp. 195 c 1. It is implied that these παλαιὰ πράγματα were πολλὰ καὶ βίαια, including such things as ἐκτομαί and δεσμοί. The Epicurean criticism of all this is partially preserved in Philodemos, de pietate, p. 68, Gomperz; and Cicero, de nat. D. i. 28 (Dox. p. 534; R. P. 126 b). [Sidenote: Physiology.]

95. In describing the views of his contemporaries, Parmenides was obliged, as we see from the fragments, to say a good deal about physiological matters. Like everything else, man was composed of the warm and the cold, and death was caused by the removal of the warm. Some curious views with regard to generation were also stated. In the first place, males came from the right side and females from the left. Women had more of the warm and men of the cold, a view which we shall find Empedokles contradicting. It is just the proportion of the warm and cold in men that determines the character of their thought, so that even corpses, from which the warm has been removed, retain a perception of what is cold and dark. These fragments of information do not tell us much when taken by themselves; but they connect themselves in a most interesting way with the history of medicine, and point to the fact that one of its leading schools stood in close relation with the Pythagorean Society. Even before the days of Pythagoras, we know that Kroton was famous for its doctors. A Krotoniate, Demokedes, was court physician to the Persian king, and married Milo the Pythagorean’s daughter. We also know the name of a very distinguished medical writer who lived at Kroton in the days between Pythagoras and Parmenides, and the few facts we are told about him enable us to regard the physiological views described by Parmenides not as isolated curiosities, but as landmarks by means of which we can trace the origin and growth of one of the most influential of medical theories, that which explains health as a balance of opposites.

For all this, see R. P. 127 a, with Arist. de Part. An. Β, 2. 648 a 28; de Gen. An. Δ, 1. 765 b 19. Theophr. de sens. 3, 4 (R. P. 129). Herod. iii. 131, 137. [Sidenote: Alkmaion of Kroton.] 96. Aristotle tells us that Alkmaion of Kroton was a young man in the old age of Pythagoras. He does not actually say, as later writers do, that he was a Pythagorean, though he points out that he seems either to have derived his theory of opposites from the Pythagoreans or they theirs from him. In any case, he was intimately connected with the society, as is proved by one of the scanty fragments of his book. It began as follows: “Alkmaion of Kroton, son of Peirithous, spoke these words to Brotinos and Leon and Bathyllos. As to things invisible and things mortal, the gods have certainty; but, so far as men may infer ...” The quotation unfortunately ends in this abrupt way, but we learn two things from it. In the first place, Alkmaion possessed that reserve which marks all the best Greek medical writers; and in the second place, he dedicated his work to the heads of the Pythagorean Society. On Alkmaion, see especially Wachtler, De Alcmaeone Crotoniata (Leipzig, 1896).

Arist. Met. Α, 5. 986 a 27 (R. P. 66). In a 30 Diels reads, with great probability, ἐγένετο τὴν ἡλικίαν <νέος> ἐπὶ γέροντι Πυθαγόρᾳ. Cf. Iambl. V. Pyth. 104, where Alkmaion is mentioned among the συγχρονίσαντες καὶ μαθητεύσαντες τῷ Πυθαγόρᾳ πρεσβύτῃ νέοι. Ἀλκμαίων Κρωτωνιήτης τάδε ἔλεξε Πειρίθου υἱὸς Βροτίνῳ καὶ Λέοντι καὶ Βαθύλλῳ· περὶ τῶν ἀφανέων, περὶ τῶν θνητῶν, σαφήνειαν μὲν θεοὶ ἔχοντι, ὡς δὲ ἀνθρώποις τεκμαίρεσθαι καὶ τὰ ἑξῆς. The fact that this is not written in conventional Doric, like the forged Pythagorean books, is a strong proof of genuineness. Brotinos (not Brontinos) is variously described as the son-in-law or father-in-law of Pythagoras. Leon is one of the Metapontines in the catalogue of Iamblichos (Diels, Vors. p. 268), and Bathyllos is presumably the Poseidoniate Bathylaos also mentioned there.

Alkmaion’s chief importance in the history of philosophy really lies in the fact that he is the founder of empirical psychology. It is certain that he regarded the brain as the common sensorium, an important discovery which Hippokrates and Plato adopted from him, though Empedokles, Aristotle, and the Stoics reverted to the more primitive view that the heart performs this function. There is no reason to doubt that he made this discovery by anatomical means. We have some authority for saying that he practised dissection, and, though the nerves were not yet recognised as such, it was known that there were certain “passages” which might be prevented from communicating sensations to the brain by lesions. He also distinguished between sensation and understanding, though we have no means of knowing exactly where he drew the line between them. His theories of the special senses are of great interest. We find in him already, what is characteristic of Greek theories of vision as a whole, the attempt to combine the view of vision as an act proceeding from the eye with that which attributes it to an image reflected in the eye. He knew the importance of air for the sense of hearing, though he called it the void, a thoroughly Pythagorean touch. With regard to the other senses, our information is more scanty, but sufficient to show that he treated the subject systematically.

Everything bearing on the early history of this subject is brought together and discussed in Prof. Beare’s Greek Theories of Elementary Cognition, to which I must refer the reader for all details. Theophr. de sens. 26 (Beare, p. 252, n. 1). Our authority for the dissections of Alkmaion is only Chalcidius, but he gets his information on such matters from far older sources. The πόροι and the inference from lesions are vouched for by Theophrastos. The details will be found in Beare, pp. 11 sqq. (vision), pp. 93 sqq. (hearing), pp. 131 sqq. (smell), pp. 180 sqq. (touch), pp. 160 sqq. (taste).

His astronomy seems surprisingly crude for one who stood in close relations with the Pythagoreans. We are told that he adopted Anaximenes’ theory of the sun and Herakleitos’s explanation of eclipses. It is all the more remarkable that he is credited with originating the idea, which it required all Plato’s authority to get accepted later, that the planets have an orbital motion in the opposite direction to the diurnal revolution of the heavens. This, if true, probably stood in close connexion with his saying that soul was immortal because it resembled immortal things, and was always in motion like the heavenly bodies. He seems, in fact, to be the real author of the curious view which Plato put into the mouth of the Pythagorean Timaios, that the soul has circles revolving just as the heavens and the planets do. This too seems to be the explanation of his further statement that man dies because he cannot join the beginning to the end. The orbits of the heavenly bodies always come full circle, but the circles in the head may fail to complete themselves. This new version of the parallelism between the microcosm and the macrocosm would be perfectly natural for Alkmaion, though it is, of course, no more than a playful fancy to Plato.

Aet. ii. 22, 4, πλατὺν εἶναι τὸν ἥλιον; 29, 3, κατὰ τὴν τοῦ σκαφοειδοῦς στροφὴν καὶ τὰς περικλίσεις (ἐκλείπειν τὴν σελήνην). Aet. ii. 16, 2, (τῶν μαθηματικῶν τινες) τοὺς πλανήτας τοῖς ἀπλάνεσιν ἀπὸ δυσμῶν ἐπ’ ἀνατολὰς ἀντιφέρεσθαι. τούτῳ δὲ συνομολογεῖ καὶ Ἀλκμαίων. Arist. de An. Α, 2. 405 a 30 (R. P. 66 c). Arist. Probl. 17, 3. 916 a 33, τοὺς ἀνθρώπους φησὶν Ἀλκμαίων διὰ τοῦτο ἀπόλλυσθαι, ὅτι οὐ δύνανται τὴν ἀρχὴν τῷ τέλει προσάψαι.

Alkmaion’s theory of health as “isonomy” is at once that which most clearly connects him with earlier inquirers like Anaximander, and also that which had the greatest influence on the subsequent development of philosophy. He observed, to begin with, that “most things human were two,” and by this he meant that man was made up of the hot and the cold, the moist and the dry, and the rest of the opposites. Disease was just the “monarchy” of any one of these—the same thing that Anaximander had called “injustice”—while health was the establishment in the body of a free government with equal laws. This was the leading doctrine of the Sicilian school of medicine which came into existence not long after, and we shall have to consider in the sequel its influence on the development of Pythagoreanism. Taken along with the theory of “pores,” it is of the greatest importance for later science. Arist. Met. Α, 5. 986 a 27 (R. P. 66). Aet. v. 30, 1, Ἀλκμαίων τῆς μὲν ὑγιείας εἶναι συνεκτικὴν τὴν ἰσονομίαν τῶν δυνάμεων, ὑγροῦ, ξηροῦ, ψυχροῦ, θερμοῦ, πικροῦ, γλυκέος, καὶ τῶν λοιπῶν, τὴν δ’ ἐν αὐτοῖς μοναρχίαν νόσου ποιητικήν· φθοροποιὸν γὰρ ἐκατέρου μοναρχίαν.

My colleague, Dr. Fraser Harris, points out to me that Alkmaion’s πόροι may have been a better guess than he knew. The nerve-fibres, when magnified 1000 diameters, “sometimes appear to have a clear centre, as if the fibrils were tubular.”—Schäfer, Essentials of Physiology (7th edition), p. 132.

EMPEDOKLES OF AKRAGAS [Sidenote: Pluralism.] 97. The belief that all things are one was common to the philosophers we have hitherto studied; but now Parmenides has shown that, if this one thing really is, we must give up the idea that it can take different forms. The senses, which present to us a world of change and multiplicity, are deceitful. From this there was no escape; the time was still to come when men would seek the unity of the world in something which, from its very nature, the senses could never perceive.

We find, accordingly, that from the time of Parmenides to that of Plato, all thinkers in whose hands philosophy made real progress abandoned the monistic hypothesis. Those who still held by it adopted a critical attitude, and confined themselves to a defence of the theory of Parmenides against the new views. Others taught the doctrine of Herakleitos in an exaggerated form; some continued to expound the systems of the early Milesians. This, of course, showed want of insight; but even those thinkers who saw that Parmenides could not be left unanswered, were by no means equal to their predecessors in power and thoroughness. The corporealist hypothesis had proved itself unable to bear the weight of a monistic structure; but a thorough-going pluralism such as the atomic theory might have some value, if not as a final explanation of the world, yet at least as an intelligible view of a part of it. Any pluralism, on the other hand, which, like that of Empedokles and Anaxagoras, stops short of the atoms, will achieve no permanent result, however many may be the brilliant aperçus which it embodies. It will remain an attempt to reconcile two things that cannot be reconciled, and may always, therefore, be developed into contradictions and paradoxes. [Sidenote: Date of Empedokles.]

98. Empedokles was a citizen of Akragas in Sicily, and his father’s name, according to the best accounts, was Meton. His grandfather, also called Empedokles, had won a victory in the horse-race at Olympia in Ol. LXXI. (496-95 B.C.), and Apollodoros fixed the floruit of Empedokles himself in Ol. LXXXIV. 1 (444-43 B.C.). This is the date of the foundation of Thourioi; and it appears from the quotation in Diogenes that the almost contemporary biographer, Glaukos of Rhegion, said Empedokles visited the new city shortly after its foundation. But we are in no way bound to believe that he was just forty years old at the time of the event in his life which can most easily be dated. That is the assumption made by Apollodoros; but there are reasons for thinking that his date is too late by some eight or ten years. It is, indeed, most likely that Empedokles did not go to Thourioi till after his banishment from Akragas, and he may well have been more than forty years old when that happened. All, therefore, we can be said to know of his date is, that his grandfather was still alive in 496 B.C.; that he himself was active at Akragas after 472, the date of Theron’s death; and that he died later than 444.

Aet. i. 3, 20 (R. P. 164), Apollodoros ap. Diog. viii. 52 (R. P. 162). The details of the life of Empedokles are discussed, with a careful criticism of the sources, by Bidez, La biographie d’Empédocle (Gand, 1894). For this we have the authority of Apollodoros (Diog. viii. 51, 52; R. P. 162), who follows the Olympic Victors of Eratosthenes, who in turn appealed to Aristotle. Herakleides of Pontos, in his Περὶ νόσων (see below, p. 233, n. 520), spoke of the elder Empedokles as a “breeder of horses” (R. P. 162 a); and Timaios mentioned him as a distinguished man in his Fifteenth Book. Glaukos wrote Περὶ τῶν ἀρχαίων ποιητῶν καὶ μουσικῶν, and is said to have been contemporary with Demokritos (Diog. ix. 38). Apollodoros adds (R. P. 162) that, according to Aristotle and Herakleides, Empedokles died at the age of sixty. It is to be observed, however, that the words ἔτι δ’ Ἡρακλείδης are Sturz’s conjecture, the MSS. having ἔτι δ’ Ἡράκλειτον, and Diogenes certainly said (ix. 3) that Herakleitos lived sixty years. On the other hand, if the statement of Aristotle comes from the Περὶ ποιητῶν, it is not obvious why he should mention Herakleitos at all; and Herakleides was one of the chief sources for the biography of Empedokles.

See Diels, “Empedokles und Gorgias,” 2 (Berl. Sitzb., 1884). Theophrastos said that Empedokles was born “not long after Anaxagoras” (Dox. p. 477, 17); and Alkidamas made him the fellow-pupil of Zeno under Parmenides, and the teacher of Gorgias (see below, p. 231, n. 5). Now Gorgias was a little older than Antiphon (b. Ol. LXX.), so it is clear we must go back at least to 490 B.C. for the birth of Empedokles. Even these indications are enough to show that he must have been a boy in the reign of Theron, the tyrant who co-operated with Gelon of Syracuse in the repulse of the Carthaginians from Himera. His son and successor, Thrasydaios, was a man of another stamp. Before his accession to the throne of Akragas, he had ruled in his father’s name at Himera, and completely estranged the affections of its inhabitants. Theron died in 472 B.C., and Thrasydaios at once displayed all the vices and follies usual in the second holder of a usurped dominion. After a disastrous war with Hieron of Syracuse, he was driven out; and Akragas enjoyed a free government till it fell before the Carthaginians more than half a century later. E. Meyer, Gesch. des Alterth. ii. p. 508. [Sidenote: Empedokles as a politician.]

99. In the political events of the next few years, Empedokles certainly played an important part; but our information on the subject is of a very curious kind. The Sicilian historian Timaios told one or two stories about him, which are obviously genuine traditions picked up about a hundred and fifty years afterwards; but, like all popular traditions, they are a little confused. The picturesque incidents are remembered, but the essential parts of the story are dropped. Still, we may be thankful that the “collector of old wives’ tales,” as sneering critics called him, has enabled us to measure the historical importance of Empedokles for ourselves by showing us how he was pictured by the great-grandchildren of his contemporaries. He is called γραοσυλλέκτρια in Souidas, s.v. The view taken in the text as to the value of his evidence is that of Holm.

We read, then, that once he was invited to sup with one of the “rulers.” Tradition delights in such vague titles. “Supper was well advanced, but no wine was brought in. The rest of the company said nothing, but Empedokles was righteously indignant, and insisted on wine being served. The host, however, said he was waiting for the serjeant of the Council. When that official arrived, he was appointed ruler of the feast. The host, of course, appointed him. Thereupon he began to give hints of an incipient tyranny. He ordered the company either to drink or have the wine poured over their heads. At the time, Empedokles said nothing; but next day he led both of them before the court, and had them condemned and put to death—both the man who asked him to supper, and the ruler of the feast. This was the beginning of his political career.” The next tale is that Empedokles prevented the Council from granting his friend Akron a piece of land for a family sepulchre on the ground of his eminence in medicine, and supported his objection by a punning epigram. Lastly, he broke up the assembly of the Thousand—perhaps some oligarchical association or club. It may have been for this that he was offered the kingship, which Aristotle tells us he refused. At any rate, we see that Empedokles was the great democratic leader at Akragas in those days, though we have no clear knowledge of what he did.

Timaios ap. Diog. viii. 64 (F.H.G. i. p. 214, fr. 88 a). In the first edition, I suggested the analogy of accusations for incivisme. Bidez says (p. 127), “J’imagine qu’un Jacobin aurait mieux jugé l’histoire” (than Karsten and Holm); “sous la Terreur, on était suspect pour de moindres vétilles.” Diog. viii. 65. The epigram runs thus: ἄκρον ἰητρὸν Ἄκρων’ Ἀκραγαντῖνον πατρὸς Ἄκρου κρύπτει κρημνὸς ἄκρος πατρίδος ἀκροτάτης. On Akron, see M. Wellmann, op. cit. p. 235, n. 1. Diog. viii. 66, ὕστερον δ’ ὁ Ἐμπεδοκλῆς καὶ τὸ τῶν χιλίων ἄθροισμα κατέλυσε συνεστὼς ἐπὶ ἔτη τρία. The word ἄθροισμα hardly suggests a legal council, and συνίστασθαι suggests a conspiracy. Diog. viii. 63. Aristotle probably mentioned this in his Sophist. Cf. Diog. viii. 57. [Sidenote: Empedokles as a religious teacher.]

100. But there is another side to his public character which Timaios found it hard to reconcile with his political views. He claimed to be a god, and to receive the homage of his fellow-citizens in that capacity. The truth is, Empedokles was not a mere statesman; he had a good deal of the “medicine-man” about him. According to Satyros, Gorgias affirmed that he had been present when his master was performing sorceries. We can see what this means from the fragments of the Purifications. Empedokles was a preacher of the new religion which sought to secure release from the “wheel of birth” by purity and abstinence; but it is not quite certain to which form of it he adhered. On the one hand, Orphicism seems to have been strong at Akragas in the days of Theron, and there are even some verbal coincidences between the poems of Empedokles and the Orphicising Odes which Pindar addressed to that prince. There are also some points of similarity between the Rhapsodic Theogony, as we know it from Damaskios, and certain fragments of Empedokles, though the importance of these has been exaggerated. On the other hand, there is no reason to doubt the statement of Ammonios that fr. 134 refers to Apollo; and, if that is so, it would point to his having been an adherent of the Ionic form of the mystic doctrine, as we have seen (§ 39) that Pythagoras was. Further, Timaios already knew the story that he had been expelled from the Pythagorean Order for “stealing discourses,” and it is probable on the whole that fr. 129 refers to Pythagoras. It would be very hazardous to dogmatise on this subject; but it seems most likely that Empedokles had been influenced by Orphic ideas in his youth, and that, in later life, he preached a form of Pythagoreanism which was not considered orthodox by the heads of the Society. In any case, it seems far more probable that his political and scientific activity belong to the same period of his life, and that he only became a wandering prophet after his banishment, than that his scientific work belonged to his later days when he was a solitary exile.

Diog. viii. 59 (R. P. 162). Satyros probably followed Alkidamas. Diels suggests (Emp. u. Gorg. p. 358) that the φυσικός of Alkidamas was a dialogue in which Gorgias was the chief speaker. In that case, the statement would have little historical value. See Bidez, p. 115, n. 1. O. Kern, “Empedokles und die Orphiker” (Arch. i. pp. 489 sqq.). For the Rhapsodic Theogony, see Introd. p. 9, n. 10. See below, note in loc. Diog. viii. 54 (R. P. 162). See below, note in loc. The latter view is that of Bidez (pp. 161 sqq.); but Diels has shown (Berl. Sitzb., 1898, pp. 406 sqq.) that the former is psychologically more probable.

We hear of a number of marvels performed by Empedokles, which are for the most part nothing but inferences from his writings. Timaios told how he weakened the force of the etesian winds by hanging bags of asses’ skins on the trees to catch them. He had certainly said, in his exaggerated way, that the knowledge of science as taught by him would enable his disciples to control the winds (fr. 111); and this, along with the fabled windbags of Aiolos, is enough to account for the tale. We are also told how he brought back to life a woman who had been breathless and pulseless for thirty days. The verse where he asserts that his teaching will enable Pausanias to bring the dead back from Hades (fr. 111) shows how this story may have arisen. Again, we hear that he sweetened the pestilent marsh between Selinous and the sea by diverting the rivers Hypsas and Selinos into it. We know from coins that this purification of the marshes actually took place, but we may doubt whether it was attributed to Empedokles till a later time.

I follow the wilder form of the story given by Diog. viii. 60, and not the rationalised version of Plutarch (adv. Col. 1126 b). The epithets ἀλεξανέμας and κωλυσανέμας were perhaps bestowed by some sillographer in mockery; cf. ἀνεμοκοίτης. The Περὶ νόσων of Herakleides, from which it is derived, seems to have been a sort of medico-philosophical romance. The words are (Diog. viii. 60): Ἡρακλείδης τε ἐν τῷ Περὶ νόσων φησὶ καὶ Παυσανίᾳ ὑφηγήσασθαι αὐτὸν τὰ περὶ τὴν ἄπνουν. It was a case of hysterical suffocation. For these coins see Head, Historia Numorum, pp. 147 sqq. [Sidenote: Rhetoric and medicine.]

101. Aristotle said that Empedokles was the inventor of Rhetoric; and Galen made him the founder of the Italian school of Medicine, which he puts on a level with those of Kos and Knidos. Both these statements must be considered in connexion with his political and scientific activity. It seems to be certain that Gorgias was his disciple in physics and medicine, and some of the peculiarities which marked his style are to be found in the poems of Empedokles. It is not to be supposed, of course, that Empedokles wrote a formal treatise on Rhetoric; but it is in every way probable, and in accordance with his character, that the speeches, of which he must have made many, were marked by that euphuism which Gorgias introduced to Athens at a later date, and which gave rise to the idea of an artistic prose. The influence of Empedokles on the development of medicine was, however, far more important, as it affected not only medicine itself, but through it, the whole tendency of scientific and philosophical thinking. It has been said that Empedokles had no successors, and the remark is true if we confine ourselves strictly to philosophy. On the other hand, the medical school which he founded was still living in the days of Plato, and it had considerable influence on him, and still more on Aristotle. Its fundamental doctrine was the identification of the four elements with the hot and the cold, the moist and the dry. It also held that we breathe through all the pores of the body, and that the act of respiration is closely connected with the motion of the blood. The heart, not the brain, was regarded as the organ of consciousness. A more external characteristic of the medicine taught by the followers of Empedokles is that they still clung to ideas of a magical nature. A protest against this by a member of the Koan school has been preserved. He refers to them as “magicians and purifiers and charlatans and quacks, who profess to be very religious.” Though there is some truth in this, it hardly does justice to the great advances in physiology that were due to the Sicilian school.

Diog. viii. 57 (R. P. 162 g). Galen, x. 5, ἤριζον δ’ αὐτοῖς (the schools of Kos and Knidos) ... καὶ οἱ ἐκ τῆς Ἰταλίας ἰατροί, Φιλιστίων τε καὶ Ἐμπεδοκλῆς καὶ Παυσανίας καὶ οἱ τούτων ἑταῖροι κ.τ.λ. Philistion was the contemporary and friend of Plato; Pausanias is the disciple to whom Empedokles addressed his poem. See Diels, “Empedokles und Gorgias” (Berl. Sitzb., 1884, pp. 343 sqq.). The oldest authority for saying that Gorgias was a disciple of Empedokles is Satyros ap. Diog. viii. 58 (R. P. 162); but he seems to have derived his information from Alkidamas, who was the disciple of Gorgias himself. In Plato’s Meno (76 c 4-8) the Empedoklean theory of effluvia and pores is ascribed to Gorgias. Diels (Berl. Sitzb., 1884, p. 343). See M. Wellmann, Fragmentsammlung der griechischen Ärtzte, vol. i. (Berlin, 1901). According to Wellmann, both Plato (in the Timaeus) and Diokles of Karystos depend upon Philistion. It is impossible to understand the history of philosophy from this point onwards without keeping the history of medicine constantly in view.

For the four elements, cf. Anon. Lond. xx. 25 (Menon’s Iatrika), Φιλιστίων δ’ οἴεται ἐκ δʹ ἰδεῶν συνεστάναι ἡμᾶς, τοῦτ’ ἔστιν ἐκ δʹ στοιχείων· πυρός, ἀέρος, ὕδατος, γῆς. εἶναι δὲ καὶ ἑκάστου δυνάμεις, τοῦ μὲν πυρὸς τὸ θερμόν, τοῦ δὲ ἀέρος τὸ ψυχρόν, τοῦ δὲ ὕδατος τὸ ὑγρόν, τῆς δὲ γῆς τὸ ξηρόν. For the theory of respiration, see Wellmann, pp. 82 sqq.; and for the heart as the seat of consciousness, ib. pp. 15 sqq. Hippokr. Περὶ ἰερῆς νόσου, c 1, μάγοι τε καὶ καθάρται καὶ ἀγύρται καὶ ἀλαζόνες. The whole passage should be read. Cf. Wellmann, p. 29 n. [Sidenote: Relation to predecessors.] 102. In the biography of Empedokles, we hear very little of his theory of nature. The only hints we get are some statements about his teachers. Alkidamas, who had good opportunities of knowing, made him a fellow-student of Zeno under Parmenides. That is both possible and likely. Theophrastos too made him a follower and imitator of Parmenides. But the further statement that he had “heard” Pythagoras cannot be right. Probably Alkidamas said “Pythagoreans.” Diog. viii. 54-56 (R. P. 162).

Some writers hold that certain parts of the system of Empedokles, in particular the theory of pores and effluvia (§ 118), which do not seem to follow very naturally from his own principles, were due to the influence of Leukippos. This, however, is not necessarily the case. We know that Alkmaion (§ 96) spoke of “pores” in connexion with sensation, and it may equally well be from him that Empedokles got the theory. It may be added that this is more in accordance with the history of certain other physiological views which are common to Alkmaion and the later Ionian philosophers. We can generally see that those reached Ionia through the medical school which Empedokles founded. Diels, Verhandl. d. 35 Philologenversamml. pp. 104 sqq., Zeller, p. 767. It would be fatal to the main thesis of the next few chapters if it could be proved that Empedokles was influenced by Leukippos. I hope to show that Leukippos was influenced by the later Pythagorean doctrine (Chap. IX. § 171), which was in turn affected by Empedokles (Chap. VII. § 147).

For πόροι in Alkmaion, cf. Arist. de Gen. An. Β, 6. 744 a 8; Theophr. de sens. 26; and for the way in which his embryological and other views were transmitted through Empedokles to the Ionian physicists, cf. Fredrich, Hippokratische Untersuchungen, pp. 126 sqq. [Sidenote: Death.] 103. We are told that Empedokles leapt into the crater of Etna that he might be deemed a god. This appears to be a malicious version of a tale set on foot by his adherents that he had been snatched up to heaven in the night. Both stories would easily get accepted; for there was no local tradition. Empedokles did not die in Sicily, but in the Peloponnese, or, perhaps, at Thourioi. He had gone to Olympia to have his religious poem recited to the Hellenes; his enemies were able to prevent his return, and he was seen in Sicily no more. R. P. 162 h. The story is always told with a hostile purpose. R. P. ib. This was the story told by Herakleides of Pontos, at the end of his romance about the ἄπνους.

Timaios took the trouble to refute the common stories at some length (Diog. viii. 71 sqq.; R. P. ib.). He was quite positive that Empedokles never returned to Sicily. Nothing can be more likely than that, when wandering as an exile in the Peloponnese, he should have seized the opportunity of joining the colony at Thourioi, which was a harbour for many of the “sophists” of this time. [Sidenote: Writings.] 104. Empedokles was the second philosopher to expound his system in verse, if we leave the satirist Xenophanes out of account. He was also the last among the Greeks; for the forged Pythagorean poems may be neglected. Lucretius imitates Empedokles in this, just as Empedokles imitated Parmenides. Of course, the poetical imagery creates a difficulty for the interpreter; but it would be wrong to make too much of it. It cannot be said that it is harder to extract the philosophical kernel from the verses of Empedokles than from the prose of Herakleitos. See Chap. IV. § 85.

There is some divergence of opinion as to the poetical merit of Empedokles. The panegyric of Lucretius is well known. Aristotle says in one place that Empedokles and Homer have nothing in common but the metre; in another, that Empedokles was “most Homeric.” To my mind, there can be no question that he was a genuine poet, far more so than Parmenides. No one doubts nowadays that Lucretius was one, and Empedokles really resembles him very closely. Lucr. i. 716 sqq. Poet. 1. 1447 b 18; cf. Diog. viii. 57 (R. P. 162 i). [Sidenote: The remains.]

105. We have more abundant remains of Empedokles than of any other early Greek philosopher. If we may trust our manuscripts of Diogenes and of Souidas, the librarians of Alexandria estimated the Poem on Nature and the Purifications together as 5000 verses, of which about 2000 belonged to the former work. Diels gives about 350 verses and parts of verses from the cosmological poem, or not a fifth of the whole. It is important to remember that, even in this favourable instance, so much has been lost. Besides the two poems, the Alexandrian scholars possessed a prose work of 600 lines on medicine ascribed to Empedokles. The tragedies and other poems which were sometimes attributed to him seem really to belong to a younger writer of the same name, who is said by Souidas to have been his grandson. Diog. viii. 77 (R. P. 162); Souidas s.v. Ἐμπεδοκλῆς· καὶ ἔγραψε δι’ ἐπῶν Περὶ φύσεως τῶν ὄντων βιβλία βʹ, καὶ ἔστιν ἔπη ὡς δισχίλια. It hardly seems likely, however, that the Καθαρμοί extended to 3000 verses, so Diels proposes to read πάντα τρισχίλια for πεντακισχίλια in Diogenes. It is to be observed that there is no better authority than Tzetzes for dividing the Περὶ φύσεως into three books. See Diels, “Über die Gedichte des Empedokles” (Berl. Sitzb., 1898, pp. 396 sqq.).

Hieronymos of Rhodes declared (Diog. viii. 58) that he had met with forty-three of these tragedies; but see Stein, pp. 5 sqq. The poem on the Persian Wars, which Hieronymos also refers to (Diog. viii. 57), seems to have arisen from an old corruption in the text of Arist. Probl. 929 b 16, where Bekker still reads ἐν τοῖς Περσικοῖς. The same passage, however, is said to occur ἐν τοῖς φυσικοῖς, in Meteor. Δ, 4. 382 a 1, though there too E reads Περσικοῖς. I give the remains as they are arranged by Diels:— And do thou give ear, Pausanias, son of Anchitos the wise!

For straitened are the powers that are spread over their bodily parts, and many are the woes that burst in on them and blunt the edge of their careful thoughts! They behold but a brief span of a life that is no life, and, doomed to swift death, are borne up and fly off like smoke. Each is convinced of that alone which he had chanced upon as he is <<5>> hurried to and fro, and idly boasts he has found the whole. So hardly can these things be seen by the eyes or heard by the ears of men, so hardly grasped by their mind! Thou, then, since thou hast found thy way hither, shalt learn no more than mortal mind hath power. R. P. 163. ... to keep within thy dumb heart.

But, O ye gods, turn aside from my tongue the madness of those men. Hallow my lips and make a pure stream flow from them! And thee, much-wooed, white-armed Virgin Muse, do I beseech that I may hear what is lawful for the children of a day! Speed me on my way from the abode of <<5>> Holiness and drive my willing car! Thee shall no garlands of glory and honour at the hands of mortals constrain to lift them from the ground, on condition of speaking in thy pride beyond that which is lawful and right, and so to gain a seat upon the heights of wisdom. Go to now, consider with all thy powers in what way each thing is clear. Hold not thy sight in greater credit as <<10>> compared with thy hearing, nor value thy resounding ear above the clear instructions of thy tongue; and do not withhold thy confidence in any of thy other bodily parts by which there is an opening for understanding, but consider everything in the way it is clear. R. P. 163. But it is ever the way of low minds to disbelieve their betters. Do thou learn as the sure testimonies of my Muse bid thee, dividing the argument in thy heart.

Hear first the four roots of all things: shining Zeus, life-bringing Hera, Aidoneus, and Nestis whose tear-drops are a well-spring to mortals. R. P. 164. ... uncreated. And I shall tell thee another thing. There is no coming into being of aught that perishes, nor any end for it in baneful death; but only mingling and change of what has been mingled. Coming into being is but a name given to these by men. R. P. 165. But, when the elements have been mingled in the fashion of a man and come to the light of day, or in the fashion of the race of wild beasts or plants or birds, then men say that these come into being; and when they are separated, they call that woeful death. They call it not aright; but I too follow <<5>> the custom, and call it so myself. Avenging death. Fools!—for they have no far-reaching thoughts—who deem that what before was not comes into being, or that aught can perish and be utterly destroyed. For it cannot be that aught can arise from what in no way is, and it is impossible and unheard of that what is should perish; for it <<5>> will always be, wherever one may keep putting it. R. P. 165 a.

And in the All there is naught empty and naught too full. In the All there is naught empty. Whence, then, could aught come to increase it? A man who is wise in such matters would never surmise in his heart that as long as mortals live what they call their life, so long they are, and suffer good and ill; while before they were formed and after they have been dissolved they are just nothing at all. R. P. 165 a. For of a truth they (Strife and Love) were aforetime and shall be; nor ever, methinks, will boundless time be emptied of that pair. R. P. 166 c.

I shall tell thee a twofold tale. At one time it grew to be one only out of many; at another, it divided up to be many instead of one. There is a double becoming of perishable things and a double passing away. The coming together of all things brings one generation into being and destroys it; the other grows up and is scattered as things become <<5>> divided. And these things never cease continually changing places, at one time all uniting in one through Love, at another each borne in different directions by the repulsion of Strife. Thus, as far as it is their nature to grow into one out of many, and to become many once more when the one is parted <<10>> asunder, so far they come into being and their life abides not. But, inasmuch as they never cease changing their places continually, so far they are ever immovable as they go round the circle of existence.

But come, hearken to my words, for it is learning that increaseth wisdom. As I said before, when I declared the <<15>> heads of my discourse, I shall tell thee a twofold tale. At one time it grew together to be one only out of many, at another it parted asunder so as to be many instead of one;—Fire and Water and Earth and the mighty height of Air; dread Strife, too, apart from these, of equal weight to each, and Love among them, equal in length and breadth. <<20>> Her do thou contemplate with thy mind, nor sit with dazed eyes. It is she that is known as being implanted in the frame of mortals. It is she that makes them have thoughts of love and work the works of peace. They call her by the names of Joy and Aphrodite. Her has no mortal yet marked moving <<25>> round among them, but do thou attend to the undeceitful ordering of my discourse.

For all these are equal and alike in age, yet each has a different prerogative and its own peculiar nature. And nothing <<30>> comes into being besides these, nor do they pass away; for, if they had been passing away continually, they would not be now, and what could increase this All and whence could it come? How, too, could it perish, since no place is empty of these things? They are what they are; but, running through one another, they become now this, now that, and like things <<35>> evermore. R. P. 166. Love. Clinging Love. This (the contest of Love and Strife) is manifest in the mass of mortal limbs. At one time all the limbs that are the body’s portion are brought together by Love in blooming life’s high season; at another, severed by cruel Strife, they wander <<5>> each alone by the breakers of life’s sea. It is the same with plants and the fish that make their homes in the waters, with the beasts that have their lairs on the hills and the seabirds that sail on wings. R. P. 173 d.

Come now, look at the things that bear witness to my earlier discourse, if so be that there was any shortcoming as to their form in the earlier list. Behold the sun, everywhere bright and warm, and all the immortal things that are bathed in heat and bright radiance. Behold the rain, everywhere dark <<5>> and cold; and from the earth issue forth things close-pressed and solid. When they are in strife all these are different in form and separated; but they come together in love, and are desired by one another. For out of these have sprung all things that were and are and shall be—trees and men and women, beasts and birds <<10>> and the fishes that dwell in the waters, yea, and the gods that live long lives and are exalted in honour. R. P. 166 i. For these things are what they are; but, running through one another, they take different shapes—so much does mixture change them. R. P. 166 g.

For all of these—sun, earth, sky, and sea—are at one with all their parts that are cast far and wide from them in mortal things. And even so all things that are more adapted for mixture are like to one another and united in love by Aphrodite. Those things, again, that differ most in origin, <<5>> mixture and the forms imprinted on each, are most hostile, being altogether unaccustomed to unite and very sorry by the bidding of Strife, since it hath wrought their birth. Just as when painters are elaborating temple-offerings, men whom wisdom hath well taught their art,—they, when they have taken pigments of many colours with their hands, mix them in due proportion, more of some and less of others, and from them produce shapes like unto all things, making trees <<5>> and men and women, beasts and birds and fishes that dwell in the waters, yea, and gods, that live long lives, and are exalted in honour,—so let not the error prevail over thy mind, that there is any other source of all the perishable creatures that appear in countless numbers. Know this for sure, for thou <<10>> hast heard the tale from a goddess. Stepping from summit to summit, not to travel only one path to the end....

What is right may well be said even twice. For they prevail in turn as the circle comes round, and pass into one another, and grow great in their appointed turn. R. P. 166 c. They are what they are; but, running through one another, they become men and the tribes of beasts. At one time they are all brought together into one order by Love; at another, <<5>> they are carried each in different directions by the repulsion of Strife, till they grow once more into one and are wholly subdued. Thus in so far as they are wont to grow into one out of many, and again divided become more than one, so far they come into being, and their life is not lasting; but in <<10>> so far as they never cease changing continually, so far are they evermore, immovable in the circle. There are distinguished neither the swift limbs of the sun, no, nor the shaggy earth in its might, nor the sea,—so fast was the god bound in the close covering of Harmony, spherical and round, rejoicing in his circular solitude. R. P. 167. (27_a_) There is no discord and no unseemly strife in his limbs. But he was equal on every side and quite without end, spherical and round, rejoicing in his circular solitude.

Two branches do not spring from his back, he has no feet, no swift knees, no fruitful parts; but he was spherical and equal on every side. But, when Strife was grown great in the limbs of the god and sprang forth to claim his prerogatives, in the fulness of the alternate time set for them by the mighty oath, ... for all the limbs of the god in turn quaked. R. P. 167. The joint binds two things. Even as when fig juice rivets and binds white milk.... Cementing meal with water....

But now I shall retrace my steps over the paths of song that I have travelled before, drawing from my saying a new saying. When Strife was fallen to the lowest depth of the vortex, and Love had reached to the centre of the whirl, in it do all things come together so as to be one only; not all at once, <<5>> but coming together at their will each from different quarters; and, as they mingled, countless tribes of mortal creatures were scattered abroad. Yet many things remained unmixed, alternating with the things that were being mixed, namely, all that Strife not fallen yet retained; for it had not yet altogether retired <<10>> perfectly from them to the outermost boundaries of the circle. Some of it still remained within, and some had passed out from the limbs of the All. But in proportion as it kept rushing out, a soft, immortal stream of blameless Love kept running in, and straightway those things became mortal which had been immortal before, those things were mixed that had been <<15>> unmixed, each changing its path. And, as they mingled, countless tribes of mortal creatures were scattered abroad endowed with all manner of forms, a wonder to behold. R. P. 169. Earth increases its own mass, and Air swells the bulk of Air.

Come, I shall now tell thee first of all the beginning of the sun, and the sources from which have sprung all the things we now behold, the earth and the billowy sea, the damp vapour and the Titan air that binds his circle fast round all things. R. P. 170 a. If the depths of the earth and the vast air were infinite, a foolish saying which has been vainly dropped from the lips of many mortals, though they have seen but a little of the All.... R. P. 103 b. The sharp-darting sun and the gentle moon. But (the sunlight) is gathered together and circles round the mighty heavens. And she cuts off his rays as he goes above her, and casts a shadow on as much of the earth as is the breadth of the pale-faced moon. Even so the sunbeam, having struck the broad and mighty circle of the moon, returns at once, running so as to reach the sky. It flashes back to Olympos with untroubled countenance. R. P. 170 c. There circles round the earth a round borrowed light, as the nave of the wheel circles round the furthest (goal). For she gazes at the sacred circle of the lordly sun opposite. It is the earth that makes night by coming before the lights.

... of solitary, blind-eyed night. And Iris bringeth wind or mighty rain from the sea. (Fire) swiftly rushing upwards.... And many fires burn beneath the earth. R. P. 171 a. For so as it ran, it met them at that time, though often otherwise. R. P. 171 a. But the air sank down upon the earth with its long roots. R. P. 171 a. Sea the sweat of the earth. R. P. 170 b. Salt was solidified by the impact of the sun’s beams. On it (the earth) many heads sprung up without necks and arms wandered bare and bereft of shoulders. Eyes strayed up and down in want of foreheads. R. P. 173 a. Solitary limbs wandered seeking for union. But, as divinity was mingled still further with divinity, these things joined together as each might chance, and many other things besides them continually arose. Shambling creatures with countless hands. Many creatures with faces and breasts looking in different directions were born; some, offspring of oxen with faces of men, while others, again, arose as offspring of men with the heads of oxen, and creatures in whom the nature of women and men was mingled, furnished with sterile parts. <<5>> R. P. 173 b.

Come now, hear how the Fire as it was separated caused the night-born shoots of men and tearful women to arise; for my tale is not off the point nor uninformed. Whole-natured forms first arose from the earth, having a portion both of water and fire. These did the fire, desirous of <<5>> reaching its like, send up, showing as yet neither the charming form of women’s limbs, nor yet the voice and parts that are proper to men. R. P. 173 c. ... But the substance of (the child’s) limbs is divided between them, part of it in men’s and part in women’s (body). And upon him came desire reminding him through sight. ... And it was poured out in the pure parts; and when it met with cold women arose from it. The divided meadows of Aphrodite. For in its warmer part the womb brings forth males, and that is why men are dark and more manly and shaggy. On the tenth day of the eighth month the white putrefaction arises. Double bearing. Sheepskin.

But if thy assurance of these things was in any way deficient as to how, out of Water and Earth and Air and Fire mingled together, arose the forms and colours of all those mortal things that have been fitted together by Aphrodite, and so are now come into being.... <<5>> How tall trees and the fishes in the sea.... And even as at that time Kypris, preparing warmth, after she had moistened the Earth in water, gave it to swift fire to harden it.... R. P. 171. Leading the songless tribe of fertile fish. All of those which are dense within and rare without, having received a moisture of this kind at the hands of Kypris.... This thou mayest see in the heavy-backed shell-fish that dwell in the sea, in sea-snails and the stony-skinned turtles. In them thou mayest see that the earthy part dwells on the uppermost surface. It is the air that makes evergreen trees flourish with abundance of fruit the whole year round. And so first of all tall olive trees bear eggs.... Wherefore pomegranates are late-born and apples succulent. Wine is the water from the bark, putrefied in the wood. Hair and leaves, and thick feathers of birds, and the scales that grow on mighty limbs, are the same thing.

But the hair of hedgehogs is sharp-pointed and bristles on their backs. And even as when a man thinking to sally forth through a stormy night, gets him ready a lantern, a flame of blazing fire, fastening to it horn plates to keep out all manner of winds, and they scatter the blast of the winds that blow, but the light leaping out through them, shines across the threshold <<5>> with unfailing beams, as much of it as is finer; even so did she (Love) then entrap the elemental fire, the round pupil, confined within membranes and delicate tissues, which are pierced through and through with wondrous passages. They keep out the deep water that surrounds the pupil, but they <<10>> let through the fire, as much of it as is finer. R. P. 177 b. But the gentle flame (of the eye) has but a scanty portion of earth. Out of these divine Aphrodite fashioned unwearying eyes. Aphrodite fitting these together with rivets of love. One vision is produced by both the eyes. Know that effluences flow from all things that have come into being. R. P. 166 h. So sweet lays hold of sweet, and bitter rushes to bitter; acid comes to acid, and warm couples with warm.

Water fits better into wine, but it will not (mingle) with oil. R. P. 166 h. Brass mixed with tin. The berry of the blue elder is mingled with scarlet. And the black colour at the bottom of a river arises from the shadow. The same is seen in hollow caves. Since they (the eyes) first grew together in the hands of Kypris. The kindly earth received in its broad funnels two parts of gleaming Nestis out of the eight, and four of Hephaistos. So arose white bones divinely fitted together by the cement of proportion. R. P. 175. The spine (was broken). And the earth, anchoring in the perfect harbours of Aphrodite, meets with these in nearly equal proportions, with Hephaistos and Water and gleaming Air—either a little more of it, or less of them and more of it. From these did blood arise and the manifold forms of flesh. R. P. 175 c. The bell ... the fleshy sprout (of the ear).

Thus do all things draw breath and breathe it out again. All have bloodless tubes of flesh extended over the surface of their bodies; and at the mouths of these the outermost surface of the skin is perforated all over with pores closely packed together, so as to keep in the blood while a free <<5>> passage is cut for the air to pass through. Then, when the thin blood recedes from these, the bubbling air rushes in with an impetuous surge; and when the blood runs back it is breathed out again. Just as when a girl, playing with a water-clock of shining brass, puts the orifice of the pipe upon <<10>> her comely hand, and dips the water-clock into the yielding mass of silvery water,—the stream does not then flow into the vessel, but the bulk of the air inside, pressing upon the close-packed perforations, keeps it out till she uncovers the compressed stream; but then air escapes and an equal volume <<15>> of water runs in,—just in the same way, when water occupies the depths of the brazen vessel and the opening and passage is stopped up by the human hand, the air outside, striving to get in, holds the water back at the gates of the ill-sounding neck, pressing upon its surface, till she lets go with her hand. <<20>> Then, on the contrary, just in the opposite way to what happened before, the wind rushes in and an equal volume of water runs out to make room. Even so, when the thin blood that surges through the limbs rushes backwards to the interior, straightway the stream of air comes in with a rushing swell; <<25>> but when the blood returns the air breathes out again in equal quantity.

(The dog) with its nostrils tracking out the fragments of the beast’s limbs, and the breath from their feet that they leave in the soft grass. Thus all things have their share of breath and smell. Thus have all things thought by fortune’s will.... And inasmuch as the rarest things came together in their fall. (The heart), dwelling in the sea of blood that runs in opposite directions, where chiefly is what men call thought; for the blood round the heart is the thought of men. R. P. 178 a. For the wisdom of men grows according to what is before them. R. P. 177. For out of these are all things formed and fitted together, and by these do men think and feel pleasure and pain. R. P. 178. And just so far as they grow to be different, so far do different thoughts ever present themselves to their minds (in dreams). R. P. 177 a. For it is with earth that we see Earth, and Water with water; by air we see bright Air, by fire destroying Fire. By love do we see Love, and Hate by grievous hate. R. P. 176.

For if, supported on thy steadfast mind, thou wilt contemplate these things with good intent and faultless care, then shalt thou have all these things in abundance throughout thy life, and thou shalt gain many others from them. For these things grow of themselves into thy heart, where is each <<5>> man’s true nature. But if thou strivest after things of another kind, as is the way with men, ten thousand woes await thee to blunt thy careful thoughts. Soon will these things desert thee when the time comes round; for they long to return once more to their own kind; for know that all things have <<10>> wisdom and a share of thought. And thou shalt learn all the drugs that are a defence against ills and old age; since for thee alone will I accomplish all this. Thou shalt arrest the violence of the weariless winds that arise and sweep the earth; and again, when thou so desirest, thou shalt bring back their blasts with a rush. Thou <<5>> shalt cause for men a seasonable drought after the dark rains, and again thou shalt change the summer drought for streams that feed the trees as they pour down from the sky. Thou shalt bring back from Hades the life of a dead man.

The MSS. of Sextus have ζωῆσι βίου. Diels reads ζωῆς ἰδίου. I still prefer Scaliger’s ζωῆς ἀβίου. Cf. fr. 15, τὸ δὴ βίοτον καλέουσι. The person here addressed is still Pausanias, and the speaker Empedokles. Cf. fr. 111. No doubt mainly Parmenides. The sense of taste, not speech. Zeller in his earlier editions retained the full stop after νοῆσαι, thus getting almost the opposite sense: “Withhold all confidence in thy bodily senses”; but he admits in his fifth edition (p. 804, n. 2) that the context is in favour of Stein, who put only a comma at νοῆσαι and took ἄλλων closely with γυίων. So too Diels. The paraphrase given by Sextus (R. P. ib.) is substantially right. There is no difficulty in the MS. διατμηθέντος if we take λόγοιο as “discourse,” “argument” (cf. διαιρεῖν). Diels conjectures διασσηθέντος, rendering “when their words have passed through the sieve of thy mind.” Nor does it seem to me necessary to read χαρτά for κάρτα in the first line. The four elements are introduced under mythological names, for which see below, p. 264, n. 583. Diels is clearly right in removing the comma after τέγγει, and rendering Nestis quae lacrimis suis laticem fundit mortalibus destinatum.

Reading μετὰ τοῖσιν. I still think, however, that Knatz’s palaeographically admirable conjuncture μετὰ θεοῖσιν (i.e. among the elements) deserves consideration. Keeping ἄλλοτε with Diels. Reading ἄμβροτα δ’ ὅσσ’ ἴδει with Diels. For the word ἶδος, cf. frs. 62, 5; 73, 2. The reference is to the moon, etc., which are made of solidified Air, and receive their light from the fiery hemisphere. See below, § 113. Reading with Blass (Jahrb. f. kl. Phil., 1883, p. 19): οὕτω μή σ’ ἀπάτη φρένα καινύτω κ.τ.λ. Cf. Hesychios: καινύτω· νικάτω. This is practically what the MSS. of Simplicius give, and Hesychios has many Empedoklean glosses. The “goddess” is, of course, the Muse. Cf. fr. 5. The word μονίῃ, if it is right, cannot mean “rest,” but only solitude. There is no reason for altering περιηγέι, though Simplicius has περιγηθέι. The masculine καλλήσας shows that the subject cannot have been Φιλότης; and Karsten was doubtless right in believing that Empedokles introduced the simile of a baker here. It is in his manner to take illustrations from human arts. The MSS. of Clement have ἥλιον ἀρχήν and the reading ἡλίου ἀρχήν is a mere makeshift. Diels reads ἥλικά τ’ ἀρχήν, “the first (elements) equal in age.”

The lines are referred to Xenophanes by Aristotle, who quotes them de Caelo, Β, 13. 294 a 21. See above, Chap. II. p. 137. I have translated Diels’s conjecture ἀπεστέγασεν δέ οἱ αὐγάς, | ἔστ’ ἂν ἴῃ καθύπερθεν. The MSS. have ἀπεσκεύασεν and ἔστε αἶαν. Reading στείροις with Diels, Hermes, xv. loc. cit. Retaining εἴδεος (i.e. ἴδεος), which is read in the MSS. of Simplicius. Cf. above, p. 243, n. 549. That Empedokles regarded milk as putrefied blood is stated by Aristotle (de Gen. An. Δ, 8. 777 a 7). The word πύον means pus. There may be a punning allusion to πυός, “beestings,” but that has its vowel long. Said of women in reference to births in the seventh and ninth months. Of the membrane round the fœtus. Reading ἴδεα ποιπνύουσα with Diels. See Beare, p. 16, n. 1, where Plato, Tim. 45 b 4 (τοῦ πυρὸς ὅσον τὸ μὲν κάειν οὐκ ἔσχεν, τὸ δὲ παρέχειν φῶς ἥμερον), is aptly quoted. Alexander ad loc. understands κατὰ βηλόν to mean κατ’ οὐρανόν, which seems improbable. On fr. 99, see Beare, p. 96, n. 1.

This passage is quoted by Aristotle (de Respir, 473 b 9), who makes the curious mistake of taking ῥινῶν for the genitive of ῥίς instead of ῥινός. The locus classicus on the subject of the klepsydra is Probl. 914 b 9 sqq. (where read αὐλοῦ for ἄλλου, b 12). The klepsydra was a metal vessel with a narrow neck (αὐλός) at the top and with a sort of strainer (ἠθμός) pierced with holes (τρήματα, τρυπήματα) at the bottom. The passage in the Problems just referred to attributes this theory of the phenomenon to Anaxagoras, and we shall see later that he also made use of a similar experiment (§ 131).

This seems to be the experiment described in Probl. 914 b 26, ἐὰν γάρ τις αὐτῆς (τῆς κλεψύδρας) αὐτὴν τὴν κωδίαν ἐμπλήσας ὕδατος, ἐπιλαβὼν τὸν αὐλόν, καταστρέψῃ ἐπὶ τὸν αὐλόν, οὐ φέρεται τὸ ὕδωρ διὰ τοῦ αὐλοῦ ἐπὶ στόμα. ἀνοιχθέντος δὲ τοῦ στόματος, οὐκ εὐθὺς ἐκρεῖ κατὰ τὸν αὐλόν, ἀλλὰ μικροτέρῳ ὕστερον, ὡς οὐκ ὂν ἐπὶ τῷ στόματι τοῦ αὐλοῦ, ἀλλ’ ὕστερον διὰ τούτου φερόμενον ἀνοιχθέντος. The epithet δυσηχέος applied to ἰσθμοῖο is best explained as a reference to the ἐρυγμός or “belching” referred to at 915 a 7 as accompanying the discharge of water through the αὐλός. Any one can produce this effect with a water-bottle. If it were not for this epithet, it would be tempting to read ἠθμοῖο for ἰσθμοῖο. Sturz conjectured this, and it is actually the reading of a few MSS. On fr. 101, see Beare, p. 135, n. 2. That the reference is to dreams, we learn from Simpl. de An. p. 202, 30. PURIFICATIONS

Friends, that inhabit the great town looking down on the yellow rock of Akragas, up by the citadel, busy in goodly works, harbours of honour for the stranger, men unskilled in meanness, all hail. I go about among you an immortal god, no mortal now, honoured among all as is meet, crowned with fillets and <<5>> flowery garlands. Straightway, whenever I enter with these in my train, both men and women, into the flourishing towns, is reverence done me; they go after me in countless throngs, asking of me what is the way to gain; some desiring oracles, while some, who for many a weary day have been pierced <<10>> by the grievous pangs of all manner of sickness, beg to hear from me the word of healing. R. P. 162 f. But why do I harp on these things, as if it were any great matter that I should surpass mortal, perishable men? Friends, I know indeed that truth is in the words I shall utter, but it is hard for men, and jealous are they of the assault of belief on their souls.

There is an oracle of Necessity, an ancient ordinance of the gods, eternal and sealed fast by broad oaths, that whenever one of the dæmons, whose portion is length of days, has sinfully polluted his hands with blood, or followed strife and <<5>> forsworn himself, he must wander thrice ten thousand years from the abodes of the blessed, being born throughout the time in all manners of mortal forms, changing one toilsome path of life for another. For the mighty Air drives him into the Sea, and the Sea spews him forth on the dry Earth; Earth tosses him into the beams of the blazing Sun, and he <<10>> flings him back to the eddies of Air. One takes him from the other, and all reject him. One of these I now am, an exile and a wanderer from the gods, for that I put my trust in insensate strife. R. P. 181. Charis loathes intolerable Necessity. For I have been ere now a boy and a girl, a bush and a bird and a dumb fish in the sea. R. P. 182. I wept and I wailed when I saw the unfamiliar land. R. P. 182. From what honour, from what a height of bliss have I fallen to go about among mortals here on earth.

We have come under this roofed-in cave. ... the joyless land, where are Death and Wrath and troops of Dooms besides; and parching Plagues and Rottennesses and Floods roam in darkness over the meadow of Ate. There were Chthonie and far-sighted Heliope, bloody Discord and gentle-visaged Harmony, Kallisto and Aischre, Speed and Tarrying, lovely Truth and dark-haired Uncertainty, Birth and Decay, Sleep and Waking, Movement and Immobility, crowned Majesty and Meanness, Silence and Voice. <<5>> R. P. 182 a. Alas, O wretched race of mortals, twice unblessed: such are the strifes and groanings from which ye have been born! From living creatures he made them dead, changing their forms. (The goddess) clothing them with a strange garment of flesh. Among beasts they become lions that make their lair on the hills and their couch on the ground; and laurels among trees with goodly foliage. R. P. 181 b.

Nor had they any Ares for a god nor Kydoimos, no nor King Zeus nor Kronos nor Poseidon, but Kypris the Queen.... Her did they propitiate with holy gifts, with painted figures and perfumes of cunning fragrancy, with offerings of pure myrrh and sweet-smelling frankincense, casting on the <<5>> ground libations of brown honey. And the altar did not reek with pure bull’s blood, but this was held in the greatest abomination among men, to eat the goodly limbs after tearing out the life. R. P. 184. And there was among them a man of rare knowledge, most skilled in all manner of wise works, a man who had won the utmost wealth of wisdom; for whensoever he strained with all his mind, he easily saw everything of all the things that are, in ten, yea, twenty lifetimes of men. <<5>> For all things were tame and gentle to man, both beasts and birds, and friendly feelings were kindled everywhere. R. P. 184 a. If ever, as regards the things of a day, immortal Muse, thou didst deign to take thought for my endeavour, then stand by me once more as I pray to thee, O Kalliopeia, as I utter a pure discourse concerning the blessed gods. R. P. 179.