Here I present Kurt Lampe’s section regarding “Aristippus on Education, Virtue, and Happiness” from Chapter 4 of his excellent book The Birth of Hedonism, lightly edited, with select content underlined for emphasis and ease of reference.
Aristippus on Education, Virtue, and Happiness:
Pleasure, pain, and distress are not the only items of value in Aristippean thinking. The evidence for his commitment to the development of philosophical insight and ethical character is extremely strong. In this section I explore the anecdotal evidence for the value he places on education, wisdom, and virtue. In many anecdotes Aristippus argues that “education” (paideia), and especially the education he himself offers, is a precious thing. Two examples will suffice:
When someone asked him how much he was asking for the education of his son, [Aristippus] replied, “A thousand drachmas.” The other said, “By Heracles! That’s an exorbitant demand! I could buy a slave for a thousand drachmas!” “Then you’ll have two slaves,” Aristippus replied, “your son and the one you buy.” (Plut. Mor. 4f = SSR 4A.5; cf. D.L. 2.72)
Aristippus said that he took money from his associates not in order to use it, but so they would know on what they should spend their money. (D.L. 2.72; cf. Gnom. Vat. 743 n. 24 = SSR 4a.7)
The primary reason that numerous anecdotes on this topic have been preserved is because Socrates did not accept payments, so Aristippus’s fee-charging arrangements opened him to accusations of “un-Socratic” behavior. Thus it is hardly surprising to find him defending the merit of his product. But there is no reason to doubt that Aristippus genuinely believed the training he offered was excellent value for money. While he may have taught the rhetorical art of “speaking well,” the anecdotes consistently suggest that he provided much more: as he implies above, his students were transforming their “slavish” characters into “free” ones. Having a “free” character might involve not only the capacity to speak with sophistication but also the understanding and self-possession to merit the privileges accorded to free males (as opposed to women or slaves) in the hierarchical world of Greek antiquity. Another saying on this topic corroborates the transformational power of education, but does so rather differently: “When he was asked how those who are educated exceed those who are not, he said, ‘In the same way as tame horses exceed wild ones’” (D.L. 2.69). Rather than moving from slavishness to freedom, these pupils move from savagery to civilization. It is unclear precisely how Aristippus believes tame horses exceed wild ones. It is obvious, however, that breaking and training a horse not only gives it the capacity to perform new tasks, but also transforms its attitudes about many experiences and provides it with a new way of life. Aristippus is suggesting that the education of a human being has the same breadth of effect, and therefore is worth every obol.
The content of this character- and life-transforming pedagogy is surely nothing other than Aristippus’s own philosophy. Certainly this is the case regarding his daughter: “He instructed his daughter Arete in the best fashion, sharing with her his training in being disdainful of excess” (D.L. 2.72). This description emphasizes the exercises through which Arete accustoms herself to a new mode of thinking and feeling: Aristippus “shared his training” (sunaskōn); he taught Arete “to be disdainful of excess” (huperoptikēn tou pleionos einai). These exercises would have been underpinned by reasoning about what is good and what is bad, as the anonymous authors of the spurious Socratic Epistles have imaginatively reconstructed.
In the twenty-seventh epistle, Aristippus, who has fallen ill on the way home from Sicily, indicates that he has received a letter from Arete complaining about how the officials in Cyrene are treating her. Aristippus counsels her,
I instruct you to manage this business with the rulers in such a way that my advice benefits you. That advice was not to desire what is excessive. In this way you’ll live out your life in the best fashion, if you’re disdainful of every excess. Those men will never wrong you so much that you’ll be in want, since you still have the two orchards, and they suffice even for a luxurious life. Even if only the property in Berenice were left, it wouldn’t fail to support an excellent lifestyle. (Socr. Ep. 27.2)
Here the authors imagine Aristippus in the very act of “instructing” his daughter (hupotithemai). It is clear that he has already taught the principles of “not wanting excess” (mē tou pleonos orignasthai) and “being disdainful of every excess” (huperoptikē pantos . . . tou pleonos). It is now a matter of helping her to see how they apply in this circumstance. Arete already has several properties in and around Cyrene. Aristippus urges her to consider that those properties are more than sufficient for an “excellent” and even “luxurious” lifestyle. Note, therefore, that “disdaining excess” does not entail embracing austerity: excess is defined relative to what is actually good, which for Aristippus is pleasure, not excluding luxurious enjoyment. Aristippus makes this explicit later: “Since you share this pleasant lifestyle with those women, let the officials in Cyrene wrong you as much as they want: they won’t wrong you with respect to your natural end” (27.3). The phrase “natural end” (phusikon telos) is anachronistic for Aristippus, but we can nevertheless appreciate how this letter recreates his effort, through both teaching Arete principles and training her in their application, to mold her thoughts and feelings with the rational standards of judgment articulated by their shared philosophy. The result at which this kind of education aims is not only understanding of what is good and bad, but also everyday feelings and actions in accord with this understanding. In short, it is a transformation of both belief and desire.
Since it is a behavioral disposition with a rational underpinning, we can usefully think of the ability to disdain excess as one of the virtues of Aristippean philosophy. In fact, we could call it Aristippus’s version of “temperance” or “soundness of mind” (sōphrosunē). Numerous anecdotes display the value Aristippus attributes to this disposition and the positive consequences he recognizes from it. In one family of anecdotes he is threatened at sea, either by pirates or by his fellow passengers. He ensures his safety by tossing his money overboard (D.L. 2.77, Suda A 3909, Gnom. Vat. 743 n. 39 = SSR 4a.79, 82). After all, he needs his life, but not his money. In a saying recorded by Plutarch, Aristippus explains the virtue of disdaining excess with a medical metaphor:
Anyone who remembers Aristippus would be especially amazed by people who haven’t lost anything, have many possessions, but always still need more [pleonos]. He used to say, “If someone eats a lot and drinks a lot and is never satisfied, he goes to the doctor and asks what his illness is, what his condition is, and how he can be freed from it. But if someone has five couches and wants ten, or possesses ten tables and buys as many again, or isn’t satisfied when plenty of estates and money are available, but remains stressed, sleepless, and insatiable with everything, this man doesn’t think he needs someone to care for him and show him why he has this illness.” (Mor. 524a–b = SSR 4a.73)
Those who are always dissatisfied, no matter what they acquire, have an “illness” (pathos). The justification for pathologizing this state is not only that it is “unreasonable” or “unnatural,” which some might contest, but also—and more importantly from a hedonistic perspective—that it is uncomfortable: its symptoms include stress (suntetatai) and insomnia (agrupnei). Another Aristippean saying makes a similar point: “It’s better to live by sleeping on straw but feeling confident than to have wealth but be strangled by your own thoughts” (Anecd. Gr. ed. Boissonade I p. 36.18–21 = SSR 4a.77). Aristippus’s philosophy aims to equip its practitioners with the beliefs and attitudes they need in order to be “cured” of their attachment to superfluities, and thus to be freed from their stress, insomnia, and the stranglehold of their own preoccupations.
Aristippean temperance also has a positive aspect. It not only eliminates mental “illness,” it also enables enjoyment. Once again there are numerous anecdotes testifying to this function. The most popular concerns an incident in the court of the tyrant Dionysius in Syracuse:
Once when they were drinking and Dionysius ordered everyone to put on purple robes and dance, Plato refused. “I couldn’t put on women’s clothing,” he said. But Aristippus took the robes and when he was about to dance he gracefully replied, “even in Bacchic celebrations, if a lady is sound of mind [sōphrōn], she won’t be corrupted.” (D.L. 2.78)
Here Plato is quoting the verses of Pentheus, the doomed protagonist in Euripides’ Bacchae (line 836). Aristippus, by contrast, is quoting the verses of the blind prophet Tiresias, who always perceives the truth that tragic protagonists stubbornly refuse to see (lines 317–18). The moral is obviously that whoever has a truly sound mind can indulge in beautiful clothes, dancing, and bodily pleasure without “being corrupted”—in other words, without beginning to feel that those things are necessary. Such a person will not forget that what really matters is simply to avoid pain and distress and experience some sort of pleasure. The source of that pleasure is unimportant, as a key passage testifies: “[Aristippus] enjoyed the pleasure of what was present, and didn’t hunt painfully after the enjoyment of what was not present” (D.L. 2.66). This is why Aristippus can walk away from any particular source of pleasure without even a twinge of regret, as he sometimes demonstrates very conspicuously:
Once Dionysius ordered [Aristippus] to choose one of three courte- sans. Aristippus led away all three, saying, “It didn’t do Paris any good to choose just one!” But they say that after he led them away, when he got as far as the gate he dismissed them. That’s how strong he was in both choosing and disdaining. (D.L. 2.67; cf. Athen. 544d, Socratic Epistle 9.1 = SSR 4a.86, 96, 222)
Aristippus can send away the courtesans because he knows that his night will be none the worse for it. Of course, having sex with three women would be pleasant and therefore choiceworthy. But a display of wit and magnanimity will impress Dionysius and thus secure future enjoyment. And for anyone with an understanding of what is really good and bad, three courtesans are excessive: one sexual partner, or even an alternative source of bodily pleasure, is just as good. This insight provides Aristippus with both the tranquility and the self-mastery to which every ancient Greek sage aspires. It is encapsulated in what may be Aristippus’s most famous saying, which refers to his relationship with the renowned courtesan Laïs: “I have, but I am not had” (SSR 4a.95–96). In other words, he knows what he wants from this relationship, which is simply pleasure. Unlike so many others, he has not become infatuated with this renowned courtesan; she has no hold over him.
Aristippus’s particular interpretation of temperance dovetails with another of his virtues, which is mastery of interpersonal relations. For ease of reference I shall refer to this as “sociability.” Aristippus’s concern with sociability emerges from the way he reportedly characterizes the product of his understanding and training: “When he was asked what he got out of his philosophy, he said, ‘The ability to associate confidently with all people [pasi tharrountōs homilein]” (D.L. 2.68).17 This saying suggests at least two aspects to Aristippean sociability: first, he can get along with any sort of person whatsoever; second, he can do so without anxiety. It is possible to reconstruct links between both of these and Aristippean temperance. First, because Aristippus understands both cognitively and emotionally that all he really needs is to avoid pain and discover some modicum of pleasure, he feels more relaxed around people. He does not need to impress anyone, since he is not after wealth or political advancement. This is why he feels confident. Second, knowing that just about every situation presents opportunities for enjoyment encourages him simply to accommodate himself to his company at any given moment: “He was able to adapt himself to every place and time and role and to act harmoniously in every circumstance” (D.L. 2.51). This responsiveness could help him to get along with others.
Of course, responsiveness requires versatility and adroitness. That Aristippean sociability encompasses these capacities is corroborated by other sayings and anecdotes. For example, “When he was asked how a wise man differs from someone who is not wise, he said, ‘Send them both naked among strangers, and you’ll find out’” (D.L. 2.73). The point is not merely that the wise man will be feel comfortable, but also that he will be adroit enough to turn the situation to his advantage. A popular story illustrates this:
The Socratic philosopher Aristippus was shipwrecked and thrown onto the shore of Rhodes. When he saw geometrical figures drawn there, he reportedly said to his companions, “Cheer up! I see signs of humans,” and right away he hurried to the citadel of Rhodes and went straight to the gymnasium. There he was rewarded with gifts for his philosophical disputations, so that he not only equipped himself, he also provided clothes and food for those who were with him. When his companions wanted to return to their country and asked him what news he wanted sent home, he told them to say, “The kind of possessions and traveling provisions free men ought to acquire are those which can swim away from a ship-wreck with them.” (Vitruvius, De Arch. 6.1.1)
This anecdote actually brings together adroitness, confidence, and temperance. Aristippus’s adroitness is displayed through his ability to impress the Rhodians with his dazzling wit and wisdom. This adroitness is part of what gives him confidence. (In fact, the word “confidence” appears explicitly in Galen’s Greek version: “He became confident [etharrēse] when he saw a geometric drawing in the sand” [Protr. 5].) And the lesson of the entire anecdote, which Aristippus explicitly communicates to “the folks back home” (nominally the Cyreneans, but more importantly us who have not yet completed his philosophical “journey”), is about temperance. In the journey of life, we should only carry the kind and quantity of provisions that could swim away from a shipwreck along with us. Of course, Aristippus has in mind his own philosophical wisdom, which swims as well as he does. That is why a naked sage has everything he needs to flourish among strangers.
These intellectual and ethical virtues lead Aristippus to value both himself and his life as a whole, as a final anecdote attests:
Once when [Aristippus] was sailing to Corinth and was caught in a storm it happened that he became upset. Someone said, “We common people weren’t afraid, but you philosophers acted like cowards!” “Well,” he answered, “we aren’t contending for the same kind of soul!” (D.L. 2.71)
Aristippus has a lot more to lose than his fellow passengers, because his soul is the repository of his knowledge and capacities. There is an almost heroic grandiloquence in his statement that his soul is not of the same kind as that of his fellow passengers (ou . . . homoias psuchēs). In his version of the anecdote, Aulus Gellius brings this out in a slightly different way: “he replied that of course the other hadn’t been terribly worried about the soul of a totally worthless loser [nequissimi nebulonis], but he was afraid for the soul of Aristippus!” (Noct. Att. 19.1.1 = SSR 4a.49).
Aristippus is set apart from the class to which this uppity but ignorant critic belongs. And as Odysseus reasserts his status by beating Thersites with his scepter, Aristippus reasserts his with a put-down witty enough to be remembered throughout antiquity.
It may seem audacious to compare Aristippus with Odysseus, but we will see below that this comparison occurs more than once in our ancient evidence ([Plut.] Vit. Hom. 2.150 = SSR 4a.55, D.L. 2.79–80 [twice]). Moreover, the shipwreck anecdote we have just encountered recalls Odysseus’s shipwreck on Phaeacia, just as the overwhelming impression Aristippus makes on the Rhodians recalls Odysseus’s impression on the Phaeacians (whose young men he defeats in athletic competition, and whose king offers him the princess’s hand in marriage [Od. 7–8]). More generally, heroic posturing is a common element in Greek philosophizing. As Hobbs has convincingly shown, Plato’s dialogues contain an extended rumination on the allure and psychology of Homeric heroes and an attempt to represent philosophers like Socrates as alternative role models. Heroic motifs are also scattered throughout many Stoic and Epicurean texts, although no one, to my knowledge, has explored these in detail.
The aim of this section has been to explore how the objects of Aristippus’s care and pursuit extend beyond moments of pleasure and pain to comprehend an entire life. The primary concerns which knit together his life are education and the virtues at which it aims. I have not insisted that Aristippean virtues are valued purely as instruments for the generation of pleasure and avoidance of pain, since our evidence does not encourage doctrinal reconstructions, and besides Aristippus may not have favored systematic articulation. But such evidence as we possess suggests that Aristippus tends to view virtues as instrumental goods. It is therefore worth concluding by looking at a third version of the storm-at-sea anecdote. According to Aelian, Aristippus’s response to his fellow sailor is, “Naturally [I was afraid]! After all, your concern and risk just now involved an unhappy life, but mine involved a happy one” (VH 9.20). In this response what Aristippus values is neither his own heroic superiority nor the virtues contained in his soul. Rather, it is now explicit that Aristippus values those virtues for the sake of the happy life (biou . . . eudaimonos) which they will permit him to live in the years to come. Whether or not this wording goes back to Aristippus—and it probably does not—it is entirely plausible that the reason Aristippus prizes the virtues of temperance and sociability is indeed because they support a pleasant life.
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