tions Xenophanes
and Pythagoras in terms of obloquy. Homer, he thinks, should be taken
out and whipped. Hesiod he considers to be the teacher of the common
herd, one with them, "a man," he says, "who does not even know day and
night." Upon the common herd of mortals he looks down with infinite
scorn. Some of his sayings remind us not a little of Schopenhauer in
their pungency and sharpness. "Asses prefer straw to {73} gold." "Dogs
bark at everyone they do not know." Many of his sayings, however, are
memorable and trenchant epitomes of practical wisdom. "Man's character
is his fate." "Physicians who cut, burn, stab and rack the sick,
demand a fee for doing it, which they do not deserve to get." From his
aloof and aristocratic standpoint he launched forth denunciations
against the democracy of Ephesus.

Heracleitus embodied his philosophical thoughts in a prose treatise,
which was well-known at the time of Socrates, but of which only
fragments have come down to us. His style soon became proverbial for
its difficulty and obscurity, and he gained the nickname of
Heracleitus the "Dark," or the "Obscure." Socrates said of his work
that what he understood of it was excellent, what not, he believed was
equally so, but that the book required a tough swimmer. He has even
been accused of intentional obscurity. But there does not seem to be
any foundation for this charge. The fact is that if he takes no great
trouble to explain his thoughts, neither does he take any trouble to
conceal them. He does not write for fools. His attitude appears to be
that if his readers understand him, well; if not, so much the worse
for his readers. He wastes no time in elaborating and explaining his
thought, but embodies it in short, terse, pithy, and pregnant sayings.

His philosophical principle is the direct antithesis of Eleaticism.
The Eleatics had taught that only Being is, and Becoming is not at
all. All change, all Becoming is mere illusion. For Heracleitus, on
the contrary, only Becoming is, and Being, permanence, identity, these
are nothing but illusion. All things sublunary are {74} perpetually
changing, passing over into new forms and new shapes. Nothing stands,
nothing holds fast, nothing remains what it is. "Into the same river,"
he says, "we go down, and we do not go down; for into the same river
no man can enter twice; ever it flows in and flows out." Not only does
he deny all absolute permanence, but even a relative permanence of