Roman
Stoicism
(1911)
E.
Vernon Arnold
Preface
This book is the outcome of a course of
lectures delivered by me in successive years to Latin Honours students in
accordance with the regulations of the University of Wales. It is therefore
primarily intended for the assistance of classical students; but it may perhaps
appeal in its present form to a somewhat wider circle.
At the time that the book was begun the
best systematic exposition of the Stoic philosophy available for English
readers was to be found in Prof. E. ZELLER’S Stoics Epicureans and Sceptics,
translated by O. J. REICHEL (Longmans, 1892). This work, admirable in detail,
is nevertheless somewhat inadequate to the subject, which appeared to its
learned author as a mere sequel to the much more important philosophical
systems of Plato and Aristotle. Since its first appearance many qualified
writers have been inclined to assign a higher rank to Stoicism, amongst whom L.
STEIN, A. SCHMEKEL, and HANS von ARNIM in the German-speaking countries, and A.
C. PEARSON, G. H. KENDALL, and R. D. HlCKS in our own, are perhaps most
conspicuous.
The view taken in this book corresponds
generally to that taken by the writers named. Shortly expressed, it regards
Stoicism as the bridge between ancient and modern philosophical thought; a
position which appears to be accepted by W. L. DAVIDSON writing on behalf of
students of modern philosophy. Mr. Hicks and Mr. Davidson have recently
published works dealing with the Stoic philosophy as a whole; but as neither of
these quite covers the ground marked out for this book, I believe that room
will be found for a further presentation of the subject.
To the writers named and to many
others, my obligations are great, and their extent is generally indicated in
the Index. I owe a more intimate debt to Mr. A. C. PEARSON and Prof. ALFRED
CALDECOTT, who have given me ungrudgingly of their knowledge and counsel during
the whole period of the preparation of this book.
The appearance of H. von Arnim’s
‘Stoicorum veterum fragmenta’ made available to me a mass of material from
Greek sources, and has (I hope) made this book less imperfect on the side of
Greek than it would otherwise have been. For the quotations in the notes from
the Greek and the less-known Latin authors I have generally given references to
von Arnim’s collections, which will doubtless be more accessible to most of my
readers than the original writers. These references include those to the
fragments of Zeno and Cleanthes, for which von Arnim is in the main indebted to
the earlier work of Pearson.
So general a treatment of the subject
as is here presented must necessarily leave room for correction and
amplification in its various branches, and I trust that I am pointing out to
younger students a field in which a rich harvest may yet be gleaned. To such
students the appended Bibliography, though necessarily incomplete, may be of
use as an introduction to the considerable literature which is available to
them.
The concluding chapter makes its appeal
not so much to classical students, as such, as to those who are interested in
the problem of Christian origins; the further problems of the influence of
Stoicism on modern literature and philosophy, though at first included in my
programme, I have not ventured to enter upon. But I hope that at least I have
been able to show that the interest of classical studies, even as regards
Hellenistic philosophy, does not lie wholly in the past.
My sincere thanks are due to the
Council of the University College of North Wales for granting me special
assistance in my College duties during the Spring term of 1910, in order that I
might give more time to this book; to the Syndics of the Cambridge University
Press for undertaking its publication; and to Mr. Clay and his expert staff for
the admirable execution of the printing.
E.
VERNON ARNOLD
25 January 1911
CHAPTER
I.
THE WORLD-RELIGIONS.
THE WORLD-RELIGIONS.
1. Roman literature. THE present work treats of outstanding
interest in the literature which is associated with the history of the Roman
State, and which is expressed partly in Hellenistic Greek, partly in Latin. In
the generations preceding our own, classical study has, to a large extent,
attended to form rather than to matter, to expression rather than to content.
To-day it is beginning to take a wider outlook. We are learning to look on
literature as an unveiling of the human mind in its various stages of
development, and as a key to the true meaning of history. The literature of
Greece proper does not cease to attract us by its originality, charm, and variety;
but the new interest may yet find its fullest satisfaction in Roman literature;
for of all ancient peoples the Romans achieved most, and their achievements
have been the most enduring. It was the Roman who joined the ends of the world
by his roads and his bridges, poured into crowded towns unfailing supplies of
corn and perennial streams of pure water, cleared the countryside of
highwaymen, converted enemies into neighbours, created ideals of brotherhood
under which the nations were united by common laws and unfettered marriage
relations, and so shaped a new religion that if it shattered an empire it yet
became the mother of many nations. We are the inheritors of Roman civilization;
and if we have far surpassed it in scientific knowledge and material plenty, we
are not equally confident that we possess better mental balance, or more
complete social harmony. In this direction the problems of Roman life are the
problems of Western life to-day; and the methods by which they were approached
in the Roman world deserve more than ever to be studied by us. Such a study, if
it is to be in any true sense historical, must break through the convention by
which ancient Greece and Rome have come to be treated as a world apart; it must
seek its starting point in the distant past, and count that of chief importance
which will bear fruit in the ages that follow.
2. Beliefs of the Romans. Great achievements are born of strong
convictions; and Roman statesmen, jurists, soldiers, and engineers did not
learn to ‘scorn delights and live laborious days’ without some strong impulse
from within. These inner convictions do not come to the surface everywhere in
the Latin literature with which we are most familiar. The Roman orator or poet
is generally content to express a conventional view of religion and morals,
whilst he conceals his real thoughts in a spirit of reticence and almost of
shame. Yet here and there every attentive reader will catch the accent of
sincerity, sometimes in the less restrained conversation of the lower classes,
sometimes flights of poetic imagination, or again in instruction designed for
the young. In this way we learn that the Romans of the last century of the
republic and of the first century of the principate were profoundly concerned,
not so much with questions connected with the safety of their empire or the
justice of their form of government, as with problems in which all mankind has
a common interest. What is truth, and how can it be ascertained? What is this
universe in which we dwell, and by whom and how was it made? What are the
beings called gods, and do they concern themselves with the affairs of men?
What is man’s nature, his duty, and his destiny? These the Romans called the
problems of philosophy, and they eagerly sought for definite and practical
solutions to them. Such solutions when embodied in theoretical systems we still
call ‘philosophies’; but when such systems are developed in a practical form
and claim the obedience of large bodies of men they become relgions. Stoicism
is in the first instance a philosophy, and amongst its many competitors that
one which appealed most successfully to the judgment of men who played a
leading part in the Roman world; but as its acceptance becomes more general, it
begins to assume all the features of a religion. All Latin literature is
thickly strewn with allusions to Stoicism and the systems which were its
rivals, and thus bears witness to the widespread interest which they excited.
3. Origin of Philosophy. The Romans learnt philosophy from
Greek teachers; and they were not free from a sense of shame in thus sitting at
the feet of the children of a conquered race. But they acknowledged their
obligations in a generous spirit; and from Roman literature an impression has
arisen, which is still widespread, that Greece was the birthplace of
philosophy, and that its triumphs must be placed to the credit of Hellenic
culture. But to the Hellenes themselves philosophy equally appeared as a
foreign fashion, assailing their national beliefs and dangerous to their
established morality; and of its teachers many of the most distinguished were
immigrants from Asia Minor. Thus Greece itself as aappears only halting-place
in the movement of philosophy; and we are carried more and more to the East as
we seek to discover its origin. Yet at the time with which we are concerned it
had also spread to the extreme West. ‘The Magi,’ says Aristotle, ‘taught the
Persians philosophy; the Chaldaeans taught it to the Babylonians and Assyrians;
the Gymnosophists to the Indians; the Druids and Semnothei to the Gauls and
Celts.’ It was a world-wide stirring of the human intellect, and we must
attempt to outline its meaning more completely.
4. National and World-Religions. Philosophy, in the sense in which
Aristotle uses the term, appears to be a general name for a great change in
man’s intellectual attitude towards his environment, corresponding to a
definite era in the history of civilization. Before philosophy came
nationalism, the habit of thinking according to clan and race; and nationalism
remains on record for us in the numerous national religions in which each
people does reverence to the deity which lives within its borders and goes
forth to fight with its armies. Philosophy is at once broader in its outlook
and more intimate in its appeal. It breaks down the barriers of race, and
includes the whole world in its survey; but on the other hand it justifies the
individual in asserting his own thoughts and choosing his own way of life. Thus
philosophy on its arrival appears in each particular country as a
disintegrating force; it strikes at the roots of patriotism and piety, and
challenges equally the authority of king and of priest. But everywhere in turn
philosophy, as it gains ground, begins to construct a new patriotism and a new
piety, and gradually takes concrete shape as a new religion. To us, as we look
backwards to the past, the track of philosophy is recorded by a series of
religions, all alike marked with the note of world-wide outlook, reverence for
reason, and the sentiment of human sympathy. The era of philosophy is the era
of the world-religions. It belongs to that millennium when from China to
Ireland men of good will and bold spirit realized that they all looked up
toward one sky, breathed one air, and travelled on one all-encircling sea; when
they dreamed that before long all men should be united in one kingdom, converse
in one language, and obey the one unchanging law of reason.
5. Spread of the World-Religions. The general importance and direction
of this movement will best be seen if we select for consideration a certain
number of the world-religions in which it was from time to time embodied.
Aristotle has already called our attention to the ‘philosophies’ of the
Chaldaeans, the Persians, and the Indians; amongst these last Buddhism at least
was a movement which had shaken off limitations of race and class. To these he
has added the Druids, whom we may well keep in mind if only because they are
representative of Western Europe. Stoicism best represents the part played by
the Greco-Roman world, and Judaism and Christianity come under consideration as
forces with which Stoicism in the course of its history came into close
contact. The Greeks little realized that they were being carried along in so
mighty a stream. Regarding themselves as isolated and elevated, the sole
pioneers of civilization in a ‘barbarian’ world, the beliefs of neighbouring
peoples seemed to them beneath their notice. To this prejudice they clung in
spite of the protests of their own men of learning; the Romans inherited it
from them; and though the Europe of the Middle Ages and of to-day professes an
Oriental faith, its religious survey is still limited and its critical power
impaired by the same assumption of superior wisdom. Our information is however
wider than that of the ancient world, and our sympathies are beginning to be
quickened; and we are thus in a position to trace generally the history of
these seven religions. In this work, we shall use, as far as possible, the
classical authorities, supplementing them (where deficient) from other sources.
6. Chaldaism. The oldest of these philosophical or
religious systems is that of the Chaldaeans, as the Romans termed a pastoral,
star-gazing folk presumably identical with the people which, in or about the
year 2800 B.C., mapped out the constellations as we now know them, traced the
orbits of the planets, and predicted their future movements. This work was not
carried out entirely in the spirit of modern science; it was further stimulated
by the belief that the skies displayed a written message to mankind. But the
nature of that message, of which fragments are possibly embodied in the names
of the constellations, was not preserved to the Romans by any tradition. Two
principles seem to have survived, those of the inexorable tie between cause and
effect called ‘fate,’ and of the interdependence of events in heaven and on
earth. Hence arose the hope of prophetic insight into the future; and the
people of Babylon, under Chaldaean influence, are said to have spent four hundred
and seventy years in collecting observations of the history of boys born under
particular combinations of heavenly bodies. We are not acquainted with the
results of these observations; but undoubtedly they established a profession of
astrologers, whose craft it was to observe the position of sun, moon and stars
at a man’s birth or at some other critical hour, and thence to deduce his
future character or career. These wanderers, called by the Romans ‘Chaldaei’ or
‘Mathematici,’ spread over all Europe, and founded a lucrative trade on men’s
fears and ambitions. Philosophers studied their methods, and did not always
entirely deny their validity. In society the atsrologer is a common figure; he
found his way to the chambers of princes, and was regularly consulted by
conspirators. The dramatic scene in Walter Scott’s Betrothed is as true
in character to Roman times as to the Middle Ages. Roman literature is full of
allusions to the horoscope. But whether we attribute these practices to fraud
or to self-deception, there is every reason to believe that they only form a
diseased outgrowth from a system which at an earlier time was of much wider
import.
7. Persism. The popular expression ‘magic’ still
recalls to us the system of which the Magi of Persia were the professed
exponents, and of which the Romans had a knowledge which is to a large extent
confirmed from other sources. This system we shall here call ‘Persism,’ in
order to free ourselves of the popular associations still connected with such
terms as Magism, Parsee-ism, and so forth; meaning by ‘Persism’ the teaching of
Zarathustra (the Latin Zoroastres) as it affected the Greek and Latin world.
Persism has its roots in the older nationalism, inasmuch as its deity is one
who takes sides with his believer and brings him victory in war; but on the
other hand it grows into a world-religion because that which begins as a
conflict between races gradually changes into a struggle between right and
wrong. It is based also on the Chaldaean system, in so far as it looks up to the
heaven as the object of human reverence and to the sun, moon and planets as at
least the symbols of human destiny; but here again the outlook is transformed,
for in the place of impersonal and inexorable forces we find a company of
celestial beings, intimately concerned in the affairs of men, and engaged in an
ardent struggle for the victory of the better side. The meaning of Persism and
its immense influence on the Greco-Roman world are still so little realized
that it is necessary here to deal with the subject with some fulness.
8. Zarathustra. The Greeks and Romans refer to the
teachings of Zarathustra as of immemorial antiquity; whilst on the other hand
the direct Persian tradition (existing in a written form from about the year
800 A.D.) ascribes them to a date 258 years before the era of Alexander’s
invasion of Persia. The best modern authorities incline to the Persian view,
thus giving the date of about 600 B.C. to Zarathustra, and making him roughly a
contemporary of the Buddha and Confucius. On the other hand considerations,
partly of the general history of religion, partly of the linguistic and
metrical character of such fragments of Zarathustra’s writings as still remain,
indicate a date earlier than this by many hundred years. Zarathustra belonged
to the tribe of the Magi, who maintained religious practices of which the
nature can only be inferred from such of them as survived the prophet’s
reforms; in their general character they cannot have differed widely from those
recorded in the Rigveda. In the midst of this system Zarathustra came forward
as a reformer. He was deeply learned in the doctrines of the Chaldaeans, and
was an ardent student of astronomy. In a period of solitary contemplation in
the desert, it was revealed to him that a great and wise being named Ahura
Mazdā, was the creator and ruler of heaven and earth. Upon him attend Angels
who do him service; whilst the spirit of Mischief and his attendants
ceaselessly work to oppose his purposes. Ahura is the light, his enemy is the darkness.
The struggle between them is that between right and wrong, and in it every man
must take one or the other side. His soul will survive what men call death, and
receive an everlasting reward according to his deeds. After quitting the mortal
body, the soul will pass over the Bridge of Judgment, and will there by turned
aside to the right or to the left; if it has been virtuous, to enter Paradise,
but if vicious, the House of Falsehood. Full of this doctrine, Zarathustra
enters the court of King Vishtāspa, and converts him and his court. The monarch
in turn sets out to convert the unbelieving world by the sword, and the War of
Religion begins.
9. Spread of Persism. We cannot trace the long history of
the War of Religion through its whole course, but in the end we find that the
Religion has welded together the great kingdom of Persia, and its warlike zeal
is directed towards establishing throughout the world the worship of the ‘God
of heaven,’ and the destruction of all images, whether in the shape of men or
of beasts, as dishonouring to the divine nature. In the sixth century B.C.
Babylon opposed the Religion in the east, and Lydia in the west; both fell
before Cyrus the Great. The fall of Babylon set free the Jews, who accepted the
king’s commission to establish the Religion in Jerusalem, and (at a rather late
date) in Egypt; on the other hand that of Lydia exposed the Hellenes, a people
devoted to idol-worship, to the fury of the image-breakers. The battles of
Marathon and Salamis checked the warlike advance of Persism, and the victories
of Alexander suppressed its outward observance and destroyed its literature and
its priesthood. But in this period of apparent depression some at least of its
doctrines were winning still wider acceptance than before.
10. Persism invades Greece. The departure of the Persians from
Europe was the signal for an outburst of enthusiasm in Greece for the old gods
and their worship with the aid of images. Yet, unfavorable as the time might
seem, a monotheistic sentiment developed apace in Hellas, which we shall follow
more closely in the next chapter. Even Herodotus, writing as a fair-minded
historian, no longer regards the Persians as impious, but realizes that they
are actuated by conviction. Socrates was an outspoken defender of all the main
articles of the Religion, to the horror of nationalists like Aristophanes, who
not unjustly accused him of corrupting the loyalty of the youth of Athens to the
institutions of their mother city. Xenophon, the most intimate of his
disciplines, translated this bias into action, and joined with the 10,000
Greeks in a vain effort to re-establish the strength of Persia: he did not even
hesitate to engage in war against his native land. To him Cyrus the Persian was
a greater hero than any Homeric warrior or Greek sage; and from Cyrus he drew
the belief in the immortality of the soul which from this time on is one of the
chief subjects of philosophic speculation.
11. Persism welcomed in Rome. The Romans had not the same national
motives as the Greeks to feel an antipathy to Persism. For the doctrine of
monotheism they had probably been prepared by their Etruscan sovereigns, and
the temple of Capitoline Jove kept before their eyes a symbol of this
sentiment. But in the Roman period Persian sovereignty had receded to the far
distance, and the doctrines of Persism only reached Rome through the Greek
language and in Greek form. Thus of the doctrines of the Evil Spirit, the war
between Good and Evil, and the future punishment of the wicked, only faint
echoes ever reached the Roman ear. On the other hand, the doctrines of the
divine government of the world and of the immortality of the soul made a deep
impression; and Cicero in a well-known passage repeats and amplifies the
account Xenophon gives in his Cyropaedia of the dying words of Cyrus,
which is doubtless to some extent coloured by recollections of the death of
Socrates:
‘We read in Xenophon that Cyrus the
elder on his death-bed spoke as follows — “Do not think, my very dear children,
that when I quit you I shall no longer be in existence. So long as I was with
you, you never saw my soul, but you realized from my actions that it dwelt in
this my body. Believe then that it will still exist, even if you see nothing of
it. Honours would not continue to be paid to great men after death, did not
their souls assist us to maintain their memory in freshness. I have never been
able to persuade myself that souls live whilst they are enclosed in mortal
bodies, and die when they issue from them; nor that the soul becomes dull at
the moment it leaves this dull body; I believe that when it has freed itself
from all contact with the body and has begun to exist in purity and perfection,
then it becomes wise. Further, when the framework of humanity is broken up in
death, we see clearly whither each of its parts speeds away, for all go to the
elements from which they have sprung; the soul alone is not see by us either
whilst it is with us or when it departs. Lastly nothing resembles death so
closely as sleep. But men’s souls, whilst they themselves sleep, most clearly
reveal their divine nature; for then, being set free from their prison house,
they often foresee things to come. From this we may gather what their
properties will be, when they have utterly freed themselves from the fetters of
the body. If then this is so, do reverence to me as a god; but if the soul is
destined to perish with the body, still do reverence to the gods, who guard and
rule all this beauteous world, and while so doing keep up the memory of me in
loyal and unalterable affection.” So spoke Cyrus on his death-bed.’
12. The Manifold Deity. The Persian doctrine of the ‘Angels’
seems to have been very little understood either in Greece or at Rome, but, as
we shall see in the course of this book, it profoundly influenced the course of
religious history. The ‘Angels’ or good Spirits of Persism are, from one point
of view, identical with the Creator himself, forms under which he manifests
himself to men. Their names are all those of abstractions: the Good Mind, the
Best Reason, the Desired Kingdom, Holy Humility, Salvation, and Immortality. On
the other hand, they gradually assume to the worshipper who contemplates them
the appearance of separate personalities, dwelling, like the Creator himself,
in an atmosphere of heavenly Glory. Thus a system which is in principle
strictly monotheistic gradually develops into one in which the deity is
sevenfold, as in the following hymn from the later part of the Avesta:
‘We praise the heavenly Glory.
The mighty, the god-given,
The praiseworthy, the life-giving,
Healing, strengthening, watching
High above the other creatures.
The Glory that belongs to the Immortal Spirits,
The rulers, that act by a look alone,
The lofty, all-powerful ones,
The strong servants of the All-wise,
That live for ever and work justice.
All seven have the same Thought,
All seven have the same Word,
All seven have the same Deed.
One Thought, one Word, one Deed, one Father and Master
The All-wise, the Creator.
The mighty, the god-given,
The praiseworthy, the life-giving,
Healing, strengthening, watching
High above the other creatures.
The Glory that belongs to the Immortal Spirits,
The rulers, that act by a look alone,
The lofty, all-powerful ones,
The strong servants of the All-wise,
That live for ever and work justice.
All seven have the same Thought,
All seven have the same Word,
All seven have the same Deed.
One Thought, one Word, one Deed, one Father and Master
The All-wise, the Creator.
Of these ‘Angels’ one was destined to
play a considerable part in several of the world-religions; namely that which
the Persians called the ‘Best Reason,’ and which the Greeks knew as Wisdom
(σοφία) or the Word (λόγος). Sometimes an aspect of the Deity, sometimes an
emanation from him, and then again a distinguishable personality, this figure
is again and again presented to our consideration. The personification of
abstractions appealed with special force to the Romans, for from the earliest
periods of their history they had raised temples to Faith (fides),
Concord (concordia), and other deified virtues; and its character can
perhaps best be appreciated by reference to the personification of Light in
Christian hymnology, both ancient and modern:
‘Hail, gladdening Light, of his pure
glory poured
Who is the immortal Father, heavenly, blest!’
‘Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead thou me on.’
Who is the immortal Father, heavenly, blest!’
‘Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead thou me on.’
13. Sanctity of the Elements. Amongst the subsidiary, but still
important, doctrines of Persism, is that of the sanctity of the four elements.
Earth, air, fire and water are alike holy. Hence the dead must not be buried,
for that would be to defile the earth; nor burned, for that would be to defile
fire; nor may any impurity be thrown into the water. This respect for the
elements often appeared to strangers as worship of them. Between the elements
they sometimes discriminated, considering earth and water as more akin to
darkness and the evil spirit, but fire and air to light and the good spirit.
The element of fire they held in special reverence, so that at all times they
have been called fire-worshippers. More careful observes have always recognized
them as monotheists, distinguished by a certain rapturous language in their
description of the deity which they refused to picture in any concrete shape.
They were all zealous that their teaching should find its expression in a
healthy social and political life. In the education of the young they laid a
special stress on speaking the truth.
14. Alexander in the East. ‘The Gymnosophists taught philosophy
to the people of India.’ Who are the teachers thus indicated? An answer may be
found, though of a later date, in Plutarch’s ‘Life of Alexander,’ where he
describes the meeting of Alexander with some eminent gymnosophists, who had
stirred up opposition to his rule: —
‘[Alexander] captured ten of the Indian
philosophers called Gymnosophistae; who had been instrumental in causing Sabbas
to revolt, and had done much mischief to the Macedonians. These men are
renowned for their short, pithy answers, and Alexander put difficult questions
to all of them, telling them that he would first put to death the man who
answered him worst, and so the rest in order.
The first was asked whether he thought
the living or the dead to be the more numerous. He answered “The living, for
the dead are not.”
The second was asked, “Which breeds the
largest animals, the sea or the land?” He answered “The land, for the sea is
only a part of it.”
The third was asked, “Which is the
cleverest of beasts?” He answered “That which man has not yet discovered.”
The fourth was asked why he made Sabbas
rebel. He answered “Because I wished him either to live or to die with honour.”
The fifth was asked, which he thought
was first, the day or the night. He answered “The day was first, by one day.”
As he saw that the king was surprised by this answer, he added “Impossible
questions require impossible answers.”
Alexander now asked the sixth how a man
could make himself most beloved. He answered “By being very powerful, and yet
not feared by his subjects.”
Of the remaining three, the first was
asked how a man could become a god. He answered “By doing that which it is
impossible for a man to do.”
The next was asked which was the
stronger, life or death. He answered “Life, because it endures such terrible
suffering.”
The last, being asked how long it was
honourable for a man to live, answered “As long as he thinks it better for him
to live than to die.”
The king loaded them with presents, and
dismissed them.’
15. Were the Gymnosophists Buddhists? In these ‘gymnosophists’ it is easy to
recognise a type familiar to Indian antiquity. These men, who have almost
dispensed with clothing and know nothing of the luxuries or even the
conveniences of life, are nevertheless influential leaders of the people. They,
like the Persians, have broken away from the old religions; they talk lightly
of the gods, and do not guide their actions by an decrees supposed divine. The
sight of human sorrow fills them with sympathy for the ills of life, and makes
them doubt whether death is not the better choice. Their ethical standard is
high, and includes both courage and gentleness. That they are Buddhist monks is
probable enough, but not certain, because India contained at this time many
sects professing similar principles. But the teaching of Gautama, the Buddha,
or ‘enlightened,’ represents to us in the most definite form the nature of this
propaganda. It implies a revolt against national rivalries, ritualist
observances, and polytheistic beliefs; it is severely practical, and inculcates
obedience to reason and universal benevolence; and it is spread from East to
West by devoted bands of ascetic missionaries.
16. Buddhist teaching. The fundamental teachings of Buddhism
appear clearly in the traditional account of the Sermon of Benares:
‘This is the holy truth of Sorrow;
birth is Sorrow, age is Sorrow, disease is Sorrow, death is Sorrow; to be
joined with the unloved is Sorrow, to be parted from the loved is Sorrow; to
lose one’s desire is Sorrow; shortly, the five-fold clinging to existence is
Sorrow.
This is the holy truth of the Origin of
Sorrow; it is the thirst to be, leading from birth to birth, finding its
pleasure here and there; the thirst for pleasure, the thirst to be, the thirst
to be prosperous.
This is the holy truth of the Removing
of Sorrow; the removal of the thirst by destroying desire, by letting it go, by
cutting oneself off from it, separating from it, giving it no place.
This is the holy truth of the Path to
the Removing of Sorrow; it is the holy Path of eight branches, which is called
Right Belief, Right Aspiration, Right Word, Right Act, Right Life, Right
Effort, Right Meditation, Right Annihilation of Self.
Specially characteristic of Buddhism is
that gentleness of temper, instictively opposed to all anger and cruelty, which
no provocation can turn aside. We read in the Dhammapada:
‘Hatred does not cease by hatred at any
time; hatred ceases by love; this is an old rule. Let a man overcome anger by
love, let him overcome evil by good; let him overcome the greedy by liberality,
the liar by truth.’
17. Buddhists and Cynics. The doctrines of Buddhism were not
inculcated in India alone. From the first it was a missionary religion; and its
emissaries must often have appeared in the Hellenistic world, promising ‘to
seekers after God eternal communion with his very essence, to the weary
pessimist eternal forgetfulness.’ From contemporary Indian inscriptions we
learn of missionaries sent out by Acoka, the first great Buddhist king of India,
‘with healing herbs and yet more healing doctrine’ to Ptolemy II king of Egypt,
Antiochus of Syria, and others, before the year 250 B.C.; and this mission can
have been but one out of many. It thus appears very remarkable that we have no
record of Buddhist communities established in the Greco-Roman world. But if the
name of Gautama remained unknown to the West, and his community had no formal
adherents, the manner of life of his apostles did not lack imitators. In the
Cynic preacher the Buddhist monk reappears. In Greek literature he is usually
an object of ridicule; his uncouth appearance, his pitiable poverty, and his
unconventional speech give constant opportunity for the wit of his critics. But
the Cynics carried with them not only the outward garb of the Buddhist monks,
but also their lofty ethical standard, their keen sympathy with human troubles,
and their indifference to purely speculative problems. In spite of the contempt
heaped upon them (or perhaps in consequence of it) they gradually won respect
and admiration as the sincere friends and helpers of the poor. Thus Buddhism at
its best is pictured for us in the sketches drawn by Epictetus of Diogenes and
the Cynic preachers of his own day, of which the following are examples:
‘Did Diogenes love nobody, who was so
kind and so much a lover of all that for mankind in general he willingly
undertook so much labour and bodily suffering? He did love mankind, but how? As
became a minister of God, at the same time caring for men, and being also
subject to God. For this reason all the earth was his country, and not one
particular place; and when he was taken prisoner he did not regret Athens nor
his associates and friends there, but even he became familiar with the pirates
and tried to improve them; and being sold afterwards he lived in Corinth as
before at Athens. This is freedom acquired.’
‘And how is it possible that a man who
has nothing, who is naked, houseless, without a hearth, squalid, without a
slave, without a city, can pass a life that flows so easily? See, God has sent
you a man to shew you it is possible. Look at me, who am without a city,
without a house, without possessions, without a slave; I sleep on the ground; I
have no wife, no children, no praetorium, but only the earth and heavens, and
one poor cloak. And what do I want? Am I not without sorrow? Am I not without
fear? Am I not free? When did any of you see me failing in the object of my
desire, or ever falling into that which I would avoid? did I ever blame God or
man? did I ever accuse any man? did any of you ever see me with sorrowful
countenance?
This is the language of the Cynics,
this their character, this their purpose.’
Except that a single form of theism has
replaced the Buddhist atheism, there is hardly a word here that we might not expect
from a Buddhist monk.
18. Stoicism. The Stoic philosophy was founded by
Zeno of Citium (350–260 B.C.). Although he lived and taught at Athens, his
youth was spent in a city that was half Phoenician, and many of his
distinguished followers had a like association with the Eastern world. The
system deals with all the great themes touched upon by Chaldaism, Persism, and
Buddhism. Like the first, it insists that there exists an unchanging Destiny,
according to which events throughout the universe are predetermined from all
eternity. Like the second, it sets up as claiming the worship and allegiance of
men a Supreme Deity, who governs the world with boundless power and benevolent
will, and is manifested to men as the Logos or ‘divine Word.’ In its interpretation
of the physical universe it accepts as a first principle a living and creative
fire, ultimately identical with the deity, and containing the germs of the
whole creation. It sees in the will of man an independent and divine power,
subject to no compulsion from without, but attaning its highest and best by
willing submission to the Supreme Being. In its practical ethics, though it
does not advocate the suppresion of all desires, it so far agrees with Buddhism
as to hold that happiness is only found in the subordination of individual
claims to the voice of universal reason. Finally, its teachers are actively engaged
in propagating its doctrines and guiding its disciples. Stoicism has, in short,
the inward and outward characteristics of the other great movements we have
described, and may claim without presumption to be reckoned amongst the
world-religions.
19. Comprehensiveness of the Stoic
view. If however we reckon
Stoicism amongst the world-religions, we must not forget that of all of them it
is the most philosophical and this in a double sense. In the first place the
founders of Stoicism are conscious of the problems to which preceding schools
of thought have endeavoured to find answers, and attempt to reconcile or at any
rate to bring into relation the answers which their predecessors have found.
Secondly they are greatly occupied with intellectual problems, and clearness of
thought is to them almost equally important with rightness of thought. The
theory of Fate which we have attributed to the Chaldaeans is to the plain man
irreconcileable with the doctrine of the government of the world by a Supreme
Deity; yet the Stoics hold both dogmas. The theory of the freedom of the human
will is a limitation equally of the dominion of Fate and of that of the Deity:
the Stoics maintain the freedom of the human will and refuse to admit the
limitation of either power. The Persians maintained that the power of the
principle of Good was balanced by that of the principle of Evil; and from this
they drew what seemed to be the legitimate conclusion that man may choose to
obey the one or the other, to do good or to do evil. The Stoics omitted the
principle of Evil altogether from their scheme, and yet maintained the theory
of the moral choice. To understand the Stoic system it is necessary to know
exactly in what balance its different elements were maintained, and to avoid
identifying it with other systems, ancient or modern, which are more sharply
cut. Thus when it is commonly asserted that Stoicism on its religious side is
Pantheism, the very brevity of this summary must create suspicion. Certainly
the Stoics frequently speak of the universe as divine; but they hold with equal
firmness the doctrines that the universe is governed by Providence, and that
human perversity may thwart the divine purpose, both being doctrines which in
ancient as in modern times are associated with Theism, and held to be
inconsistent with pantheistic views.
20. God and the ‘World.’ A similar difficulty confronts us when
we ask whether the deity of the Stoics is to be considered as personal. All the
terms commonly used in association with a personal deity are adopted by the
Stoics: their god is Lord and Father. But then they use with equal freedom
terms commonly associated with materialism: for the Supreme Being is to them
body or stuff, a primitive fire which converts itself by natural laws into
every form of being. For this reason the Stoics are commonly called
materialists, and yet the main body of their teaching is contrary to that
usually associated with materialism. Further, beside the personal and the
material conceptions of the Deity, they adopted and developed a conception
which exercised an extraordinary influence over other systems, when they
attributed the exercise of all the power of deity to the divine Word, which
from one point of view is the deity himself, and from another is something
which emanates from him and is in some way distinct. Thus the term ‘God,’ which
to children and child-like religions appears so simple, is in the Stoic system
extraordinarily complex; and its full content cannot be grasped without a
willingness to revise the meaning of many conceptions which seem firmly
established, such as those of personality, material, and quality. If we are to
suppose that the Stoic conception of the Word arose ultimately from similar
conceptions in Hebraism or Persism, by which the voice of a personal God
attained to a quasi-independent personality, we must allow that the Stoics made
use of this term with a boldness and consistency which from the time of their
appearance brought it into the forefront of religious and metaphysical
controversy. Through the Stoics the doctrine of the Word passed into the
systems of Judaism and Christianity, to perform in each the like service by
reconciling doctrines apparently contradictory. Of all the systems we may
perhaps say that Stoicism makes the fewest new assertions or negations, but
introduces the most numerous interpretations.
21. Influence of Stoicism. We have comparatively little means of
judging of the influence of Stoicism in the world of Asia Minor, but
incidentally we may infer that it was very considerable. In Athens the moral
earnestness of its eachers found little response in public feeling, whilst it
laid the exponents of its tenets open to many a sharp thrust from keen critics
whose constructive powers were after all inferior. In Rome itself Stoicism took
root rapidly. The brilliant circle that gathered round Scipio Africanus the
younger was imbued with its ideals; Cato, the leading republican of the first
century B.C., was a living representative of its principles; and Cicero and
Brutus, with many others less known to fame, were greatly influenced by it. In
the first century of the principate Stoicism imparted a halo of heroism to a
political and social opposition which otherwise would evoke little sympathy; in
the second century A.D. its influence was thrown on the side of the government;
the civilized world was ruled under its flag, and its principles were embodied
in successive codes of law which are not yet extinct. Its direct supremacy was
not long-lived; for at the very time when a Stoic philosopher sits in the seat
of the Caesars its followers seem to be losing their hold on its most important
doctrines. It came into sharp conflict with Christianity on matters of outward
observance; but in the cores of the two systems there was much likeness, and
from Stoic homes were drawn the most intelligent advocates of the newer faith.
22. Judaism. By Judaism we mean here the way of
thinking which was prevalent in the Jewish world from the date of the return
from Babylon to that of the destruction of Jerusalem. Judaism was of course by
no means restricted to the soil of Palestine; it was carried by the diffusion
of the Jewish race to all the coasts of the Mediterranean; besides its national
centre at Jerusalem, it included a great centre of learning at Alexandria, and
its branches, as we have seen, extended to the south of Egypt. The chief
external impulse which affected it was the spread of Persism. The two systems
agreed in their belief in a God of heaven, and in their dislike to
idol-worship; and it can be no matter of wonder if one party at least among the
Jews readily accepted the more strictly Persian doctrines of the ministry of
angels, the struggle between good and evil, the immortality of the soul, and
the reward after death, as well as such observances as the washing of hands.
Strong Persian influence has been traced in the book of Daniel, and as Jewish
speculation developed at Alexandria, it took up the use of the Greek language,
and so came into touch with the influences that were moulding thought
throughout Asia Minor. The most interesting and elevated production of
Alexandrine Judaism is the book known as the Wisdom of Solomon, probably
composed in the first century B.C.
23. ‘The Wisdom of Solomon.’ The author of this book, whilst
himself a firm adherent of monotheism, shews a not altogether intolerant
appreciation of those systems in which either the heavenly bodies or the
elements seem to occupy the most important place: —
1. For verily all men by nature were
but vain who had no perception of God,
And from the good things that are seen they gained not power to know him that is,
Neither by giving heed to the works did they recognize the artificer;
2. But either fire, or wind, or swift air,
Or circling stars, or raging water, or the luminaries of heaven,
They thought to be gods that rule the world.
3. And if it was through delight in their beauty that they took them to be the gods,
Let them know how much better than these is their sovereign Lord:
For the first author of beauty created them:
4. But if it was through astonishment at their power and influence,
Let them understand from them how much more powerful is he that formed them:
5. For from the greatness of the beauty even of created things
In like proportion does man form the image of their first maker.
6. But yet for these men there is but small blame,
For they too peradventure do but go astray
While they are seeking God and desiring to find him.
Wisdom of Solomon, xiii 1–6.
And from the good things that are seen they gained not power to know him that is,
Neither by giving heed to the works did they recognize the artificer;
2. But either fire, or wind, or swift air,
Or circling stars, or raging water, or the luminaries of heaven,
They thought to be gods that rule the world.
3. And if it was through delight in their beauty that they took them to be the gods,
Let them know how much better than these is their sovereign Lord:
For the first author of beauty created them:
4. But if it was through astonishment at their power and influence,
Let them understand from them how much more powerful is he that formed them:
5. For from the greatness of the beauty even of created things
In like proportion does man form the image of their first maker.
6. But yet for these men there is but small blame,
For they too peradventure do but go astray
While they are seeking God and desiring to find him.
Wisdom of Solomon, xiii 1–6.
The same author rises to still greater
heights when he personifies Wisdom or Philosophy as a Spirit attendant upon,
and almost identified with the deity. Here his language resembles that of the
Avestic hymns, describing the angels attendant upon Ahura Mazdā: —
22. For there is in Wisdom a spirit
quick of understanding, holy,
Alone in kind, manifold,
Subtil, freely moving,
Clear in utterance, unpolluted,
Distinct, unharmed,
Loving what is good, keen, unhindered,
23. Beneficent, loving toward man,
Stedfast, sure, free from care.
All-powerful, all-surveying,
And penetrating through all spirits
That are quick of understanding, pure, most subtil:
24. For wisdom is more mobile than any motion:
Yea, she pervadeth and penetrateth all things by reason of her pureness.
25. For she is a breath of the power of God,
And a clear effluence of the glory of the Almighty:
Therefore can nothing defiled find entrance into her.
26. For she is an effulgence from everlasting light,
And an unspotted mirror of the working of God,
And an image of his goodness.
27. And she, being one, hath power to do all things:
And remaining in herself, reneweth all things,
And from generation to generation passing into holy souls
She maketh men friends of God, and prophets;
29. For she is fairer than the sun,
And above all the constellations of the stars.
Wisdom of Solomon, vii 22–29.
Alone in kind, manifold,
Subtil, freely moving,
Clear in utterance, unpolluted,
Distinct, unharmed,
Loving what is good, keen, unhindered,
23. Beneficent, loving toward man,
Stedfast, sure, free from care.
All-powerful, all-surveying,
And penetrating through all spirits
That are quick of understanding, pure, most subtil:
24. For wisdom is more mobile than any motion:
Yea, she pervadeth and penetrateth all things by reason of her pureness.
25. For she is a breath of the power of God,
And a clear effluence of the glory of the Almighty:
Therefore can nothing defiled find entrance into her.
26. For she is an effulgence from everlasting light,
And an unspotted mirror of the working of God,
And an image of his goodness.
27. And she, being one, hath power to do all things:
And remaining in herself, reneweth all things,
And from generation to generation passing into holy souls
She maketh men friends of God, and prophets;
29. For she is fairer than the sun,
And above all the constellations of the stars.
Wisdom of Solomon, vii 22–29.
24. Philo the Jew. The fusion of Greek and Judaic modes
of thought is most complete in the works of Philo the Jew (c. 20 B.C.–54 A.D.).
This writer in commenting upon the books of the Old Testament, finds himself
able by way of interpretation to introduce large parts of Greek philosophies.
The place of Wisdom in the writer last named is taken in his works by the Logos
or ‘Word’; and the ‘Word’ is many times described as an emanation of the deity,
after the Persian fashion. Without anticipating the further discussion of this
philosophical conception, we may well notice here how characteristic it is of an
age which paid boundless homage to reason, and how it supplies a counterpoise
to conceptions of the deity which are rigidly personal. But Philo is of still
more direct service to the study of Stoicism, because he had so completely
absorbed the system that, where other authorities fail us, we may often trust
to his expositions for a knowledge of details of the Stoic system.
Another work of about the same period
is the Fourth book of the Macacabees, in which Stoic ethics, only
slightly disguised, are illustrated from Jewish history. In this fusion of
Hebraic and Hellenistic thought, unfortunately interrupted by political
convulsions, eminent modern Jews have recognised the natural development of the
teaching of the Hebrew prophets.
25. Christianity. The foregoing discussions will already
have suggested that Christianity is bound by intimate ties to the other
world-religions; though it is beyond our present purpose to examine the precise
nature of those ties. It is pre-eminently concerned with the breaking down of
Jewish nationalism, and its constant appeal to ‘the truth’ is essentially the
same as the appeal of kindred systems to ‘wisdom’ or ‘philosophy.’ The Lord’s
Prayer, addressed to the ‘Father in heaven,’ and with its further references to
‘The Name,’ ‘The Kingdom,’ ‘The Will,’ ‘temptation,’ and ‘the Evil One,’
reflects the principal conceptions of Persism, of which we are again reminded
in the Apocalypse by the reference to the ‘seven spirits of God.’ The Sermon on
the Mount has been, not without reason, compared to the Buddhist sermon of
Benares. With Stoicism Christianity has special ties, both direct and indirect.
Its chief apostle was Paul of Tarsus, who was brought up in a city from which
more than one eminent Stoic teacher had proceeded, and whose ways of thinking
are penetrated by Stoic conceptions. The most profound exponent of its theology
(the author of the Gospel according to John) placed in the forefront of
his system the doctrine of the ‘Word’ which directly or (more probably)
indirectly he derived from Stoic sources. The early church writers felt the
kinship of thought without perceiving the historical relation. To them Cicero
in his Stoic works was ‘anima naturaliter Christiana’; and they could only
explain the lofty teachings of Seneca by the belief that he was a secret
convert of the apostle Paul. Parallelism between Stoic and Christian
phraseology is indeed so frequently traced that it may be well to emphasize the
need of caution. It is not by single phrases, often reflecting only the general
temper of the times, that we can judge the relation of the two systems; it is
necessary also to take into account the general framework and the fundamental
principles of each.
26. Druidism. Of the systems named by Aristotle far
the least known to us is Druidism. It appeared to Caesar and other Romans to be
the national religion of the Gauls and Britons, exactly as Magism appeared to
the Greeks to be the national religion of the Persians. But other evidence
indicates that Druidism was a reformed religion or philosophy, not unlike
Persism in its principles. The training of Druidical students was long and
arduous; it claimed to introduce them to a knowledge of heavenly deities denied
to the rest of the world, and to reveal to them the immortality of the soul.
Our best authority is the Latin poet Lucan: —
‘To you alone it has been granted to
know the gods and the powers of heaven; or (it may be) to you alone to know
them wrongly. You dwell in deep forests and far-away groves: according to your
teaching the shades do not make their way to the still regions of Erebus or the
grey realm of Dis below; the same spirit guides a new body in another world; if
you know well what you say, then death is but an interlude in life. If not, at
least the peoples, on whom the northern star gazes directly, are happy in their
illusion; for the greatest of terrors, the fear of death, is nothing to them.
Hence it comes that their warriors’ hearts are ready to meet the sword, and
their souls have a welcome for death, and they scorn to be thrifty with life,
in which they can claim a second share.’
Druidism, like Stoicism, seems to have
prepared its adherents for a specially ready acceptance of Christianity.
27. The goal not reached yet. The story of the world-religions, with
their countless prophets, teachers, confessors and martyrs, has its tragic
side. We ask what was attained by so much study and self-denial, such
courageous defiance of custom and prejudice, such bold strivings after the
unattainable, so many hardly spent lives and premature deaths, and feel puzzled
to find a reply. To the problems proposed the world-religions gave in turn
every possible answer. Some found life sweet, others bitter; some bowed before
the inexorable rule of destiny, others believed in a personal and benevolent
government of the universe; some looked forward to a life after death, others
hoped for annihilation. Their theories crystallized into dogmas, and as such
became the banners under which national hatreds once more sought outlet in
bloodshed. Their adherents sacrificed everything in the hope of reaching
certain and scientific truth, and, at the end of all, religion still appears
the whole world over to be in conflict with science, and the thousand years
during which Wisdom was counted more precious than riches are often looked back
upon as a time of human aberration and childishness. It is not to be denied
that thousands of noble spirits set out during this period for a goal that they
never reached; and those who are inclined to destructive criticism may
plausibly characterise their enterprise as vanity.
28. The path still onward. It is the task of literary research to
pierce through this limited view, and to trace the real effect of philosophical
effort on the life of individuals and nations. All over the civilized world it
raised a race of heroes, struggling not for power or splendour as in the epoch
of barbarism, but for the good of their fellow-men. It gave a new value to life,
and trampled under food the fear of death. It united the nations, and spread
the reign of law and justice. Where its influence has weakened, the world has
not changed for the better; so that the very failures of the world-religions
most attest their value. India has relapsed from Buddhism, its own noblest
work, to its earlier creeds, and they still bar its path against social
progress. Europe no longer united by the sentiment of a catholic religion, and
increasingly indifferent to literary sympathies, is falling back into the
slough of frontier impediments and racial hatreds. From all this there is no
way out except in the old-fashioned quest of truth and good will.
29. Estimates of Stoicism. Both in ancient and in modern times
the importance of Stoicism has been very variously estimated, according as the
critic has set up a purely literary standard, or has taken into account
historical influence. To those who look upon philosophy as it is embodied in
books, and forms a subject for mental contemplation and aesthetic enjoyment,
the philosophies of Plato and Aristotle have always seemed of far higher rank.
As contributions to the progress of humanity, in politics and law, in social
order and in the inventive adaptation of material surroundings, they can hardly
claim to approach any one of the systems discussed in this chapter. But it is
with no wish to deprecate the great masterpeices of Hellenic culture that we
now set against the criticisms of some of its ardent advocates the maturer
judgment of writers who have approached with greater sympathy the study of the
Hellenistic and Roman worlds. ‘In Plato and Aristotle,’ says Zeller, ‘Greek
philosophy reached its greatest perfection.’ ‘Its bloom was short-lived.’
‘Greece was brought into contact with the Eastern nations, whereby it became
subject to a back-current of Oriental thought.’ ‘With the decline of political
independence the mental powers of the nation were broken past remedy.’ ‘What
could be expected in such an age, but that philosophy would become practical,
if indeed it were studied at all?’ To minds of another temper it does not seem
so fatal that ‘philosophy should become practical.’ ‘It should be insisted,’
says Prof. Mahaffy, ‘that the greatest practical inheritance the Greeks left in
philosophy was not the splendour of Plato, or the vast erudition of Aristotle,
but the practical systems of Zeno and Epicurus, and the scepticism of Pyrrho.
In our own day every man is either a Stoic, an Epicurean, or a Sceptic.’ The
greatness of Stoicism in particular was eloquently recognised by a French
writer of the eighteenth century: ‘elle seule savait fire les citoyens, elle
seule faisait les grands hommes, elle seule faisait les grands empereurs!’ With
these tributes may be compared that paid by a writer who approaches the subject
from the standpoint of modern philosophy and theology. ‘[Stoicism] has
perennial fascination; and there are not wanting signs that it appeals with
special attractiveness to cultured minds at the present day. It has both
speculative and practical value; its analysis of human nature and its theory of
knowledge, no less than its ethical teaching, giving insight into the problems
of the universe and the right mode of guiding life. As an important stage in
the march of philosophical thought, and as a luminous chapter in the history of
natural theology, it solicits our attention and will repay our study.’
30. Interpretative Stoicism. Judgments so contradictory reveal the
fact that ancient divergencies of philosophic sympathies have their counterparts
to-day; and perhaps in studying and judging the systems of antiquity a little
more is needed of the sympathy and interpretative elasticity which every man
unconsciously uses in maintaining the political, philosophic and religious
views to which he is attracted by inheritance or personal conviction. Thus to
understand Stoicism fully a man must himself become for the time being a Stoic.
As such he will no longer bind himself by the letter of the school authorities.
In many a phrase they use he will recognise an obsolete habit of thought, an
exaggerated opposition, a weak compliance in the face of dominant opinions, or
a mistaken reliance upon what once seemed logical conclusions. At other points
he will see difficulties felt to which an answer can now easily be supplied. At
each step he will ask, not so much what the Stoics thought, but what a Stoic
must necessarily think. Whilst constantly referring to the original
authorities, he will allow much to be forgotten, and in other cases he will
draw out more meaning than the writers themselves set in their words. If he can
walk boldly but not without caution, on this path, he will assuredly find that
Stoicism throws light on all the great questions to which men still seek
answers, and that to some at least it still holds out a beckoning hand.
CHAPTER
II.
HERACLITUS AND SOCRATES.
HERACLITUS AND SOCRATES.
31. Greek thought. We have seen already that the great
problems of which Stoicism propounds one solution were agitated during the
millennium which preceded the Christian era alike in India, Persia and Asia
Minor on the one hand, and in Greece, Italy and the Celtic countries on the
other. To the beginnings of this movement we are unable to assign a date; but
the current of thought appears on the whole to have moved from East to West.
But just at the same time the influence of Greek art and literature spreads
from West to East; and it is to the crossing and interweaving of these two
movements that we owe almost all the light thrown on this part of the history
of human thought. The early history of Stoicism has reached us entirely through
the Greek language, and is bound up with the history of Greek literature and
philosophy. But long before Stoicism came into existence other movements
similar in kind had reached Greece; and the whole of early Greek literature,
and especially its poetry, is rich in contributions to the discussion of the
physical and ethical problems to which Stoicism addressed itself. From the
storehouses of this earlier literature the Stoics drew many of their arguments
and illustrations; the speculations of Heraclitus and the life of Socrates were
especially rich in suggestions to them. The study of Greek literature and
philosophy as a whole is therefore indispensable for a full appreciation of
Stoicism; and the way has been made easier of late by excellent treatises,
happily available in the English language, dealing with the general development
of philosophic and religious thought in Greece. Here it is only possible to
refer quite shortly to those writers and teachers to whom Stoicism is most
directly indebted.
32. Homer. Although the HOMERIC POEMS include
representations of gods and men corresponding to the epoch of national gods and
to other still earlier stages of human thought, nevertheless they are pervaded
by at least the dawning light of the period of the world-religions. Tales of
the gods that are bloodthirsty or coarse are kept in the background; and though
heroes like Agamemnon, Achilles, and Ajax move in an atmosphere of greed,
bloodshed, and revenge, yet all of them are restrained both in word and in act
by a strong feeling of self-respect, the αἰδώς or shamefastness which entirely
differentiates them from the heroes of folk-lore; in particular, the typical
vices of gluttony, drunkenness, and sexual unrestrainst are amongst the things
of which it is a shame to speak without reserve. The gods are many, and in
human shape; yet they are somewhat fairer than men, and something of the
heavenly brilliance in which the Persian archangels are wrapped seems to
encircle also the heights where the gods dwell on mount Olympus. Gradually too
there comes to light amidst the picture of the many gods something resembling a
supreme power, sometimes impersonally conceived as Fate (αἶσα, μοῖρα),
sometimes more personally as the Fate of Zenus, most commonly of all as Zeus
himself, elevated in rank above all other gods. Thus Zeus is not only king, but
also father of gods and men; he is the dispenser of happiness to men, ‘to the
goood and the evil, to each one as he will,’ and the distributor of gracious
gifts, unbounded in power and in knowledge. The gods again, in spite of the
many tales of violence attached to their names, exercise a moral governance
over the world. ‘They love not froward deeds, but they reverence justice and
the righteous acts of men’; ‘in the likeness of strangers from far countries,
they put on all manner of shapes, and wander through the cities, beholding the
violence and the righteousness of men.’
Whilst therefore the philosophers of
later times could rightly object to Homer that he told of the gods tales
neither true nor worthy of their nature, there was on the other hand much in
the Iliad and Odyssey, and particularly in the latter, which was
in harmony with philosophical conceptions. It was not without reason that the
Stoics themselves made use of Ulysses, who in Homer plays but little part in
fighting, an example of the man of wisdom and patience, who knows men and
cities, and who through self-restraint and singleness of purpose at last wins
his way to the goal. From this starting-point the whole of the Odyssey
is converted into a ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’; the enchantress Circe represents the
temptations of gluttony, which turns men into swine; the chant of the Sirens is
an allegory of the enticements of sensual pleasure.
33. Hesiod. In HESIOD (8th century B.C.) we find
the first attempt to construct a history of the universe; his Theogeny
is the forerunner of the Cosmology which later on is a recognised part of
philosophy. Here in the company of the personal gods we find not only the
personified lights of heaven, Sun and Moon, but also such figures as those of
Earth and Ocean, Night and Day, Heaven and Hell, Fate, Sleep, and Death, all
bearing witness to the emergence of the spirit of speculation. In Hesiod again
we first find the description of the ‘watchmen of Jove,’ who are no longer the
gods themselves as in Homer, but an intermediate class of beings, corresponding
to the Persian angels and the δαίμονες of later Greek.
‘Thrice ten thousand are the servants
of Zeus, immortal, watchmen over mortal men; these watch deeds of justice and
of wickedness, walking all ways up and down the earth, clothed in the mist.’
But it is in his ethical standards that
Hesiod is more directly a forerunner of the Stoic school: for neither the warlike
valour nor the graceful self-control of the hero appeals to him, but the stern
sense of justice and the downright hard work of the plain man.
‘Full across the way of Virtue the
immortal gods have set the sweat of the brow; long and steep is the path that
reaches to her, and rough at the beginning; but when you reach the highest
point, hard though it is, in the end it becomes easy.’
34. The Orphic poems. Between Epic and Attic literature
stands the poetry of the ‘Orphic’ movement, belonging to the sixth century
B.C., and exercising a wide influence over various schools of philosophy in the
succeeding centuries. For an account of this movement the reader must look
elsewhere; here we can only notice that it continued the cosmological
speculations of Hesiod’s Theogony, and in particular developed a strain
of pantheism which is echoed in the Stoic poets. According to an Orphic poet
‘Zeus is the first and the last, the
head and the foot, the male and the female, Earth and Heaven, Night and Day; he
is the one force, the one great deity, the creator, the alluring power of love;
for all these things are immanent in the person of Zeus.’
Here amidst the fusion of poetry and
theology we first see the budding principle of philosophic monism, the reaching
after a unity which will comprehend all things. To the same school is
attributed the doctrine that ‘the human soul is originally and essentially
divine.’
35. The Hylozoists. To the sixth century B.C. belong also
the earliest Greek philosophers who are known to us by name. In all of these
the early polytheism is either abandoned or becomes so dim in its outlines that
the origin and governing force of the universe is sought in quite other
directions. The philosophers of Ionia busied themselves with the problem of the
elements. THALES of Miletus was a man of many attainments; he had travelled both
in Egypt and in Babylon, and was an active political reformer. To him water was
the primary substance, from which all others proceeded and to which they
returned. ANAXIMANDER of the same town was the first who undertook to give the
Greeks a map of the whole known world. To him it seemed that the primary matter
could not be the same as any visible substance, but must be a protoplasm of
undefined character (ἄπειρον), capable of assuming in turn all shapes.
ANAXIMENES (once more of Miletus) assumed air as the first principle, and
derived the other elements from it by processes of condensation (πύκνωσις) and
rarefaction. But on one point all the Ionian philosophers were agreed: the primary
substance was the cause of its own motion; they were ‘hylozoists,’ since they
hold that matter (ὕλη) is a living thing (ζῷον). They are from the standpoint
of physics ‘monists,’ as opposed to those who hold matter and life, or matter
and force, to be two things eternally distinct, and are therefore ‘dualists’ in
their theory.
36. Pythagoras. To the same sixth century belong two
other notable philosophers. PYTHAGORAS, born in Samos about 575 B.C., and like
Thales, one who had travelled widely, left his native land rather than submit
to the rule of a tyrant, and founded in Croton in Lower Italy a community half
religious and half political, which in its original form was not long-lived.
But a widespread tradition remained as to his doctrines, in which the theory of
Numbers held a leading position. Pythagoras appears to have been a good
mathematician and astronomer, and followers of his school were at an early date
led to the doctrines of the rotation of the earth on its axis and the central
position of the sun in the planetary system. His name is also connected with
the theory of the transmigration of souls, which we may supposed him to have
derived ultimately from some Indian source; and to the same country we must
look as having suggested to him and his followers the practice of abstaining
from animal food.
37. Xenophanes. If we looked merely to the theories of
the philosophers, it might seem as if the old mythologies and theogonies were
already dead. But in fact the battle was yet to come. XENOPHANES of Colophon
(born circ. 580 B.C.) witnessed in his youth the fall of Ionia before the
conquering progress of Cyrus king of Persia. Rather than submit to the power of
the invader he adopted the life of a wandering minstrel, and finally settled in
Elea, in Lower Italy, where he became the founder of the Eleatic school. But in
his religious convictions he was whole-heartedly on the Persian side. ‘There is
one God, greatest amongst gods and men, not like mortal men in bodily shape or
in mind.’ Thus the worship of many gods and that of images of the deity are
alike condemned; and it is probable that in this false worship he found the
cause of his country’s fall. With the lack of historic sense which is
characteristic of the zealous reformer, he condemned Homer and Hesiod as
teachers of immorality, since they ‘ascribed to the gods theft, adultery, and
deceit, and all acts that are counted shame and blame amongst men.’ With keen
criticism he pointed out that myths as to the birth of the gods dishonoured
them just as much as if they related their deaths; for on either supposition
there is a time when the gods do not exist. The conception of the deity formed
by Xenophanes seems to approach Pantheism or Nature-worship, and so far to
foreshadow the Stoic deity; but the fragments that survive of his works are
insufficient to make this point clear. The successors of Xenophanes did not
inherit his religious zeal, but they emphasized all the more the philosophic
principle of an ultimate Unity in all things.
38. Heraclitus. With the opening of the fifth century
B.C. we reach HERACLITUS of Ephesus, a philosopher of the highest importance to
us, since the Stoics afterwards accepted his teaching as the foundation of
their own system of physics. The varied speculations of the sixth century were
all examined by Heraclitus, and all found wanting by him; his own solutions of
the problems of the world are set forth in a prophetic strain, impressive by
its dignity, obscure in its form, and lending itself to much variety of interpretation.
For the opinions of the crowd, who are misled by their senses, he had no respect;
but even learning does not ensure intelligence, unless men are willing to be
guided by the ‘Word,’ the universal reason. The senses shew us in the universe
a perpetual flowing: fire changes to water (sky to cloud), water to earth (in
rainfall), which is the downward path; earth changes to water (rising mist),
and water to fire, which is the upward path. Behind these changes the Word
points to that which is one and unchanging. Anaximander did well when he
pointed to the unlimited as the primary stuff, but it is better to describe it
as an ‘everliving fire.’ Out of this fire all things come, and into it they
shall all be resolved. Of this ever-living fire a spark is buried in each man’s
body; whilst the body lives, this spark, the soul, may be said to be dead; but
when the body dies it escapes from its prison, and enters again on its own
proper life. The ‘Word’ is from everlasting; through the Word all things happen;
it is the universal Law which holds good equally in the physical world and in
the soul of man. For man’s soul there is a moral law, which can be reached only
by studying the plan of the world in which we live. But of this law men are
continually forgetful; they live as in a dream, unconscious of it; it calls to
them once and again, but they do not hear it. Most of all it is needed in the
government of the state; for ‘he who speaks with understanding must take his
foothold on what is common to all; for all human laws are nourished by the one
divine law.’
39. The Word. The general import of the physical
teaching of Heraclitus and the indebtedness of the Stoics to it, have long been
recognised: the bearing of this teaching upon religion, ethics and politics is
a more disputable matter. Does Heraclitus by the ‘Logos’ which he so often
names mean merely his own reasoning and message? is he speaking of the common
reason of mankind? or does the term suggest to him a metaphysical abstraction,
a divine power through which the world is created and governed? For the fuller
meaning we have analogies in the beliefs of Persism before Heraclitus, and of
Stoics, Judaists, and Christians afterwards. The latest commentator, adopting
this explanation, sums it up in three propositions: first, the ‘Logos’ is
eternal, being both pre-existent and everlasting, like the world-god of
Xenophanes; secondly, all things both in the material and in the spiritual
world happen through the ‘Logos’; it is a cosmic principle, ‘common’ or ‘universal’;
and in the third place, it is the duty of man to obey this ‘Logos,’ and so to
place himself in harmony with the rest of nature. And accordingly, in agreement
with many recent writers, he adopts the translation ‘the Word’ as on the whole
the most adequate. Even the Romans found it impossible to translate λόγος by
any single word, and they therefore adopted the phrase ratio et oratio
(reason and speech); in modern language it seems clearly to include also the
broad notion of ‘Universal Law’ or the ‘Laws of Nature.’ If we can rightly
attribute to Heraclitus all that is thus included in the interpretation of this
one word, he certainly stands out as a great creative power in Greek
philosophy, harmonizing by bold generalizations such diverse provinces as those
of physics, religion, and ethics; ‘he was the first [in Greece, we must
understand] to build bridges, which have never since been destroyed, between
the natural and the spiritual life.’ It is to the Stoics almost alone that we
owe it that teaching so suggestive and so practical was converted into a
powerful social and intellectual force.
40. Zarathustra and Heraclitus. The prominence given to fire in the
system of Heraclitus has very naturally suggested that his doctrine is borrowed
from that of Zarathustra. The historical circumstances are not unfavourable to
this suggestion. Ionia was conquered in turn by Cyrus and Darius, and
definitely annexed by Persia about 496 B.C., that is, at the very time at which
Heraclitus taught. Moreover the Persian invasion was akin to a religious
crusade, and had for a principal aim the stamping out of the idle and
superstitious habit of worshipping images, by which (according to the Persians)
the true God was dishonoured. The elevated character of the Persian religion could
hardly fail to attract learned Greeks, already dissatisfied with the crude
mythology of their own people. Further, the resemblance between the teaching of
Zarathustra and that of Heraclitus is not restricted to the language used of
the divine fire; the doctrines of an all-creating, all-pervading Wisdom, the
λόγος or Word, and of the distinction between the immortal soul and the
corruptible body, are common to both. But the differences between the two
systems are almost equally striking. Heraclitus is a monist; according to him
all existences are ultimately one. Zarathustra taught a principle of Evil,
everywhere opposed to the Good Spirit, and almonst equally powerful; his system
is dualist. Zarathustra is not free from nationalism, Heraclitus is cosmopolitan.
In the Ephesian system we find no trace of the belief in Judgment after death,
in Heaven, or in Hell. We may in fact well believe that Heraclitus was
acquainted with Zoroastrianism and influenced by it, but we have not the means
to determine what the extent of that influence was. It is related of him that
he received (but declined) an invitation to the court of Darius; and that his
dead body was given up to be torn to pieces by dogs in the Persian fashion.
41. The tragedians. The development of philosophic thought
at Athens was, as we have noticed, much complicated by the political relations
of Greece to Persia. Although the Persian empire had absorbed Asia Minor, it
was decisively repulsed in its attacks on Greece proper. Athens was the centre
of the resistance to it, and the chief glory of the victories of Marathon (490
B.C.) and Salamis (480 B.C.) fell to Athenian statesmen and warriors. By these
successes the Hellenes not only maintained their political independence, but
saved the images of their gods from imminent destruction. A revival of
polytheistic zeal took place, as might have been expected. The wealth and skill
of Greece were ungrudingly expended in the achievement of masterpieces of the
sculptor’s art, and their housing in magnificent temples. But even so religious
doctrines strikingly similar to those of the Persians gained ground. The same
Aeschylus who (in his Persae) celebrates the defeat of the national
enemy, a few years later (in his Agamemnon) questions whether the
Supreme Ruler be really pleased with the Greek title of Zeus, and the Greek
method of worshipping him. His more conservative successor Sophocles was
contented, in the spirit of the Homeric bards, to eliminate from the old myths
all that seemed unworthy of the divine nature. Euripides adopts a bolder tone.
Reproducing the old mythology with exact fidelity, he ‘assails the resulting
picture of the gods with scathing censure and flat contradiction.’ With equal
vigour he attacks the privileges of noble birth, and defends the rights of the
slave; he has a keen sympathy for all the misfortunes that dog man’s life; but
his ethical teaching in no way derives its sanction from any theology. The
Hellenes have lost confidence in their inherited outlook on the world.
42. The Sophists. The same problems which the poets
discussed in the city theatre were during the fifth century B.C. the daily
themes of a class of men now becoming so numerous as to form the nucleus of a
new profession. These were the ‘sophists,’ who combined the functions now
performed partly by the university professor, partly by the public journalist.
Dependent for their livelihood upon the fees of such pupils as they could
attract, and therefore sensitive enough to the applause of the moment, they
were distinguished from the philosophers by a closer touch with the public
opinion of the day, and a keener desire for immediate results. Their
contribution to philosophic progress was considerable. Cultivating with
particular care the art of words, they created a medium by which philosophic
thought could reach the crowd of men of average education; eager advocates of
virtue and political progress, they gave new hopes to a people which, in spite
of its material successes, was beginning to despair because of the decay of its
old moral and civic principles. In PRODICUS of Ceos we find a forerunner of the
popular Stoic teachers of the period of the principate:
‘A profound emotion shook the ranks of
his audience when they heard his deep voice, that came with so strange a sound
from the frail body that contained it. Now he would describe the hardships of
human existence; now he would recount all the ages of man, beginning with the
new-born child, who greets his new home with wailing, and tracing his course to
the second childhood and the gray hairs of old age. Again he would rail at
death as a stony-hearted creditor, wringing his pledges one by one from his
tardy debtor, first his hearing, then his sight, next the free movement of his
limbs. At another time, anticipating Epicurus, he sought to arm his disciples
against the horrors of death by explaining that death concerned neither the
living nor the dead. As long as we live, death does not exist; as soon as we
die, we ourselves exist no longer.’
To Prodicus we owe the well-known tale
of Hercules at the parting of the ways, when Virtue on the one hand, and
Pleasure on the other, each invite him to join company with her. This tale we
shall find to be a favourite with the Roman philosophers. The same Prodicus
introduced a doctrine afterwards taken up by the Cynics and the Stoics in
succession, that of the ‘indifference’ of external advantages as distinct from
the use to which they are applied. He also propounded theories as to the origin
of the gods of mythology, explaining some of them as personifications of the
powers of nature, others as deified benefactors of the human race; theories
which later on were adopted with zeal by the Stoic Persaeus. To another
sophist, HIPPIAS of Elis, we owe the doctrine of the ‘self-sufficiency’ of
virtue, again adopted both by Cynics and Stoics. ANTIPHON was not only the
writer of an ‘Art of Consolation,’ but also of a treatise of extraordinary
eloquence on political concord and the importance of education. ‘If a noble
disposition be planted in a young mind, it will engender a flower that will
endure to the end, and that no rain will destroy, nor will it be withered by
drought.’
43. The Materialists. Among the sophists of Athens was
counted ANAXAGORAS, born at Clazomenae about 500 B.C., and a diligent student
of the Ionic philosophers. But in his explanation of nature he broke away from
‘hylozoism’ and introduced a dualism of mind and matter. ‘From eternity all
things were together, but Mind stirred and ordered them.’ More famous was his
contemporary EMPEDOCLES of Agrigentum, whose name is still held in honour by
the citizens of that town. In him we first find the list of elements reaching
to four, earth, air, fire, and water; and the doctrine that visible objects
consist of combinations of the elements in varying proportions, first brought
together by Love, then separated by Hatred. Just in so far as Empedocles
abandoned the quest after a single origin for all things, his conceptions
became fruitful as the basis of the more limited study now known as Chemistry. His
work was carried further by LEUCIPPUS and DEMOCRITUS, both of Abdera, who for
the four elements substituted invisible atoms, of countless variety, moving by
reason of their own weight in an empty space. This simple and powerful analysis
is capable of dealing effectively with many natural phenomena, and with
comparatively slight alterations is still held to be valid in chemical
analysis, and exercises a wide influence over the neighbouring sciences of
physics and botany. When however (as has frequently been the case both in
ancient and modern times) the attempt is made to build upon it a general
philosophical system, its failure to explain the cohesion of matter in masses,
the growth of plants and animals, and the phenomena of mind, become painfully
apparent. Such attempts roughly correspond to the attitude of mind now called materialism,
because in them the atoms, endowed with the material properties of solidity,
shape, and weight alone, are conceived to be the only true existences, all
others being secondary and derivative. This materialism (with some significant
qualifications) was a century later the central doctrine of Epicurus, and is of
importance to us by reason of its sharp contrast with the Stoic system of
physics.
44. Socrates. The value of these scientific
speculations was not for the time being fully recognised at Athens. It was in
the atmosphere of sophistic discussion, not free from intellectual mists, but
bracing to the exercise of civic and even of martial virtue that SOCRATES of
Athens (circ. 469–399 B.C.) grew to maturity. He set to his fellow-citizens an
example of the vigorous performance of duty. As a soldier he was brave almost
to rashness, and took an active part in three campaigns. As a magistrate he
discharged his duty unflinchingly. After the battle of Arginusae the ten
Athenian generals were said to have neglected the duty of succouring certain
disabled ships and the people loudly demanded that all should be condemned to
death by a single vote. Socrates was one of the presiding senators, and he
absolutely refused to concur in any such illegal procedure. Again, when Athens
was under the rule of the Thirty, Socrates firmly refused to obey their unjust
orders. But when himself condemned to death, he refused to seize an opportunity
for flight which was given him; for this, he said, would be to disobey the laws
of his country.
His private life was marked by a firm
self-control. Athens was now wealthy, and its leading citizens frequently
gathered together for festive purposes. Socrates joined them, but showed the
greatest moderation in eating and drinking: such a course, he said, was the
better for health and also produced more real pleasure. Over the grosser
temptations of the senses he had won a complete victory. His temper was calm
and even; he was not put out by the violences of his wife, nor did he allow
himself to break out into rage with his slaves. His personal habits, though
simple, were careful: he did not approve any neglect either of bodily
cleanliness or of neatness in dress.
Thus Socrates gave an example of a life
of activity and self-control (ἰσχὺς καὶ κράτος); and by his character, even
more than by his speculation, exercised an influence which extended widely over
many centuries.
45. His teaching. The teaching of Socrates is not easily
reduced to the set formulae of a philosophical school. But clearly it was
focussed upon the life of men in the city and in the home, and was no longer
chiefly concerned with the phenomena of the sky or the history of the creation
of the universe. So Cicero well says of him that ‘Socrates called philosophy
down from the heavens to earth, and introduced it into the houses and cities of
men, compelling men to enquire concerning life and morals and things good and
evil’; and Seneca that he ‘recalled the whole of philosophy to moral questions,
and said that the supreme wisdom was to distinguish between good and evil.’ He
had no higher object than to send out young men, of whose good disposition he
was assured, to take an active part in the affairs of the community, and to
this course he urged them individually and insistently. But it must not be
supposed that he put on one side problems concerned with the acquirement of
truth, or with the constitution and government of the universe. His views on
these points carried perhaps all the more weight because they were stated by
him not as personal opinions, but as points upon which he desired to share the
convictions of his neighbours, if only they could assure him that reason was on
their side.
46. Reason the guide. Socrates more than any other man
possessed the art of persuasive reasoning, thereby making his companions wiser
and better men. First he asked that terms should be carefully defined, so that
each man should know what the nature is of each thing that exists, and should
examine himself and know well of what he speaks. Next he introduced the
practice of induction (ἐπακτικοὶ λόγοι), by which men make the larger outlook
of their minds, understand one thing by comparison with another, and arrange
the matter of their thought by classes. By induction we arrive at general
truths: not however by any mechanical or mathematical process, but (at least in
higher matters) by the use of Divination, that is, by a kind of divine
enlightenment. He who has accustomed himself to think with deliberation, to
look on the little in its relation to the great, and to attune himself to the
divine will, goes out into the world strengthened in self-restraint, in
argumentative power, and in active goodwill to his fellow-men.
Most directly this method appeals to
the future statesman. Of those who seek the society of Socrates many intend to
become generals or magistrates. Let them consider well what these words mean.
Is not a pilot one who knows how to steer a ship? a cook one who knows how to
prepare food? must we not then say that a statesman is one who knows how to
guide the state? And how can he know this but by study and training? Must we
not then say generally that all arts depend on knowledge, and knowledge on
study? Do we not reach the general truths that ‘virtue is knowledge’ and that
‘virtue can be taught’? We may hesitate as to how to apply these principles to
our individual actions, and Socrates will accuse none on this point; but
himself he has a divine monitor which never fails to warn him when his mind is
turned towards a course which the gods disapprove.
47. His dualism in physics. In the speculations of the Ionian
philosophers Socrates could find no satisfaction. But one day he discovered
with pleasure the words of Anaxagoras; ‘it is mind that orders the world and is
cause of all things.’ Thus he was attracted to a dualistic view of the
universe, in which matter and mind are in fundamental contrast. In the
beginning there existed a chaos of unordered dead meaningless matter, and also
mind, the principle of life, meaning, and order. Mind touched matter, and the
universe sprang into being. Mind controls matter, and thus the universe
continues to exist. The proof is found in the providential adaptation of the
world for the life and comfort of mankind: for it is only consistent to suppose
that things that exist for use are the work of mind. He that made man gave him
eyes to see with, ears to hear with, and a mouth conveniently placed near to
the organs of sight and smell; he implanted in him a love of his offspring, and
in the offspring a love of its parents; and lastly endowed him with a soul
capable of understanding and worshipping his maker. For the divine power
Socrates uses quite indifferently the words ‘god’ and ‘gods’: but his belief is
essentially monotheistic. In the gods of the city of Athens he has ceased to
believe, although he still makes sacrifices upon their altars in good-humoured
conformity with the law, and even adopts the popular term ‘divination,’ though
in a sense very different to that in which the official priesthood used it.
In the analysis of human nature
Socrates adopts a similar dualism. Man consists of body and soul: the soul is
lord and king over the body, and indeed may rightly be called divine, if anything
that has touch with humanity is such.
48. His pietism. The practical teaching of Socrates was
entirely dominated by his religious principles. The gods, he held, know all
things, our words, our deeds, and the secrets of our hearts: they are
everywhere present and give counsel to men concerning the whole of life. The
first duty of man is therefore to enter into communion with the gods by prayer,
asking them to give us the good and deliver us from the evil, but not
qualifying the prayer by any instruction to the gods as to what is good or
evil; for this the gods themselves know best. In these words then we may pray:
‘Zeus our king, give us what is good for us whether we ask for it or not; what
is evil, even though we ask for it in prayer, keep far from us.’
In this spirit of what we should to-day
call ‘pietism’ we must interpret his principle that ‘virtue is knowledge.’ This
not only asserts that no one can rightly practise any art unless he has studied
and understands it, but also that no one can rightly understand an art without
practising it. We say that there are men who know what is good and right, but
do not perform it; but this is not so; for such men in truth think that some other
course is good for them. Only the wise and pious man has a right understanding;
others cannot do good even if they try; and when they do evil, even that they
do without willing it.
In its application to politics the
teaching of Socrates came into collision with the democratic sentiments
prevalent at Athens. To say the least, Socrates had no prejudice against the
rule of kings. He distinguished sharply between kingship and tyranny, saying
that the rule of one man with the assent of his subjects and in accordance with
the laws was kingship, but without such assent and according to the man’s
arbitrary will was tyranny. But under whatever constitutional form goverment
was carried on, Socrates asserted that those who knew the business of
government were alone the true rulers, and that the will of the crowd, if
conflicting with that of the wise, was both foolish and impious.
49. Why Socrates was condemned. So teaching and influencing men
Socrates lived in Athens till his seventieth year was past, and then died by
the hands of the public executioner. This fate he might so easily have avoided
that it seemed almost to be self-chosen. His disciple Xenophon expresses
amazement that the jurors should have condemned a man so modest and so wise,
and so practical a benefactor of the Athenian people. Modern historians, with a
wider knowledge of human nature, wonder rather that Socrates was allowed to
live so long. The accusers complained that Socrates offended by disbelieving in
the gods of the city, introducing new deities, and corrupting the youth of
Athens. From the point of view of conservatively-minded Athenians, the charges
were amply justified. Clearly Socrates disbelieved, not merely in the official
gods of the city, but also in the deities it worshipped most earnestly,
democracy and empire. Not only did he introduced new deities, but it might
fairly be argued that he was introducing the most essential parts of the
religion of the national enemy, Persia. Daily inculcating these heretical
doctrines upon young men of the highest families in Athens, he might well be
the cause that the Athenian state was less unquestioningly served than before.
That the heresies of Socrates were soundly founded on wide observation and
general truths could not be considered to make them less dangerous. Athens had
already passed the time when its political power could be of service to its
neighbours; it had not reached that when it could be content with intellectual
influence; Socrates, just because he was in harmony with the future of Athens,
was a discordant element in its present.
50. The companions of Socrates. It is with difficult, and not without
the risk of error, that we trace even in outline the positive teaching of
Socrates. The severe self-repression with which he controlled his senses was
exercised by him no less over his intelligence. In his expositions it took the
shape of irony (εἰρωνεία), that is, the continual withholding of his personal
convictions, and obstetrics (μαιευτική), the readiness to assist others in
bringing their speculations to the birth. Thus he was a great educator rather
than a great teacher. For whilst he held that virtue alone was worthy of
investigation, and that virtue was essentially wisdom, he professed to be
entirely at a loss where to find this wisdom for himself; he left it to his
pupils to go out and discover the precious cup. Thus whilst men of all classes
and with every variety of mental bias listened to his teaching, not one was
content with his negative attitude. Of the various suggestions which Socrates
threw out, without committing himself to any one, his pupils took up each in
turn and endeavoured to construct out of it a system. These systems were in the
sharpest possible contrast one with another, but they have certain points in
common. All the teachers retained a strong personal affection and loyalty
towards their common master; each was convinced that he alone possessed the
secret of his real convictions. All of them held aloof from the physical
speculations of which the ripe fruit was already being gathered in by the
Atomists. The portal of knowledge was to all of them the right use of the
reasoning power; the shrine itself was the discipline of virtue, the attainment
of happiness, the perfect ordering of social life. Such were the Socratic schools,
in which philosophy was now somewhat sharply divided into the two brances of
dialectics and ethics. Another century had yet to elapse before the rejected
discipline of physics again established its importance.
51. The Cynics. Of the Socratic schools three
contributed directly to the Stoic system. Of these the Cynic school, founded by
ANTISTHENES of Athens (circ. 440–365 B.C.) and developed by DIOGENES of Sinope,
is its immediate precursor. The Cynic masters inherited most completely the
moral earnestness and the direct pietistic teaching of Socrates; and for this
reason Antisthenes appears to have been the master’s favourite pupil. The lives
both of these men and of their successors were marked by simplicity and
self-abnegation, and they devoted themselves with true missionary zeal to the
reformation of moral outcasts. The caricature of the figure of Diogenes which
was promulgated by his opponents and still lives in literary tradition needs
constantly to be corrected by the picture which Epictetus gives of him, and
which (though not without an element of idealization and hero-worship) shews us
the man as he appeared to his own disciples.
The breach with the state-religion
which was latent in Socrates was displayed without disguise by the Cynics.
Antisthenes, following in the track of the ardent Xenophanes, declared that the
popular gods were many, but the god of nature was one; he deounced the use of
images; and he and his followers naturally acquired the reproach of atheism.
Equally offensive to the Athenians was their cosmopolitanism, which treated the
pride of Hellenic birth as vain, and poured contempt on the glorious victories
of Marathon and Salamis. Nor did the Cynics consider the civilization of their
times as merely indifferent; they treated it as the source of all social evils,
and looked for a remedy in the return to a ‘natural’ life, to the supposed
simplicity and virtue of the savage unspoilt by education. Thus they formulated
a doctrine which especially appealed to those who felt themselves simple and
oppressed, and which has been well described as ‘the philosophy of the
proletariate of the Greek world.’
52. Cynic intuitionism. The destructive criticism of the
Cynics did not stop with its attack upon Greek institutions; it assailed the
citadel of reason itself. Socrates had renounced physics; the Cynics considered
that dialectic was equally unnecessary. For the doctrine of general concepts
and the exercise of classification they saw no use; they were strict
Nominalists; horses they could see, but not ‘horsiness.’ In their ethics they
held to the chief doctrines of Socrates, that ‘virtue is knowledge,’ ‘virtue
can be taught’ and ‘no one willingly sins’; and they laid special stress on the
‘sufficiency’ (αὐτάρκεια) of virtue, which to produce happiness needs
(according to them) nothing in addition to itself except a Socratic strength of
character (Σωκρατικὴ ἰσχύς). But in reality they identified virtue with this
will-power, and entirely dispensed with knowledge; virtue was to them a matter
of instinct, not of scientific investigation. They appear therefore as the real
founders of that ethical school which bases knowledge of the good on intuition,
and which is at the present time, under ever-varying titles, the most
influential of all. In practice, the virtue which specially appealed to the
Cynics was that of ‘liberty,’ the claim of each man at every moment to do and
say that which seems to him right, without regard to the will of sovereigns,
the conventions of society, or the feelings of his neighbour; the claim made at
all times by the governed against their rulers whether these are just or
unjust, reckless or farseeing.
53. Limits of Cynicism. Cynicism is in morals what Atomism is
in physics; a doctrine which exercises a widespread influence because of its
extreme simplicity, which is extraordinarily effective within the range of
ideas to which it is appropriate, and fatally mischievous outside that range.
Nothing is more alien from Cynicism than what we now call cynicism; the Cynics
were virtuous, warm-hearted, good-humoured, and pious. In their willing
self-abnegation they equalled or surpassed the example set by Buddhist monks,
but they were probably much inferior to them in the appreciation of natural
beauty and the simple pleasures of life. As compared with their master
Socrates, they lacked his genial presence, literary taste, and kindly
tolerance; and they were intensely antipathetic to men of the type of Plato and
Aristotle, whose whole life was bound up with pride in their country, their
birth, and their literary studies.
54. Xenophon. The Cynics themselves seem to have
made no effective use of literature to disseminate their views; but in the
works of XENOPHON of Athens (440–circ. 350 B.C.) we have a picture of Socrates
drawn almost exactly from the Cynic standpoint. Xenophon was a close personal
friend of Antisthenes, and thoroughly shared his dislike for intellectual
subtleties. He was possessed of a taste for military adventure, and his
interpretation of Socratic teaching entirely relieved him of any scruples which
patriotism might have imposed upon him in this direction, leaving him free at
one time to support the Persian prince Cyrus, and at another to join with the
Spartan king Agesilaus against his own countrymen. From adventure he advanced
to romance-writing, and his sketches of the expedition of the Ten Thousand
Greeks (in which he took part in person) and of the life of Cyrus the Great
have an interest which in no way depends upon their accuracy. The account which
he gives of Socrates in his Memorabilia (ἀπομνημονευματα) is not always
to be depended upon; it is at the best a revelation of one side only of the
historic philosopher; but it is to a large extent confirmed by what we learn
from other soruces, and is of special interest to us because of the great
influence it exercised over Latin literature.
55. The Cyrenaics. In the opposite direction ARISTIPPUS
of Cyrene shared the sympathetic tone of Socrates, but could not adopt his
moral earnestness or his zeal for the good of others. He refused altogether the
earnest appeal of Socrates that he should take part in politics. ‘It seems to
me,’ he says, ‘to show much folly that a man who has quite enough to do to find
the necessities of life for himself, should not be satisfied with this, but should
take upon himself to provide his fellow-citizens with all that they want, and
to answer for his action in the courts if he is not successful.’ Aristippus
revolted altogether from the ascetic form in which the Cyncis represented his
master’s teaching, and held that the wise man, by self-restraint and liberal
training, attained to the truest pleasure, and that such pleasure was the end
of life. The Cyrenaics (as his followers were called) were the precursors in
ethics of the school of Epicurus; and the bitter opposition which was later on
to rage between Stoics and Epicureans was anticipated by the conflict between
the Cynics and the Cyrenaics.
56. The Megarians. The school of EUCLIDES of Megara
swerved suddenly from these ethical interests and devoted itself mainly to the
problems of dialectic. From the Socratic practice of classification it arrived
at the doctrine of the One being, which alone it held to be truly existent, and
which it identified with the One God proclaimed by Xenophanes and his followers
of the Eleatic school. To the Megaric school we are therefore chiefly indebted
for the assertion of the philosophical principle of monism; the same school
drew the necessary logical consequence, that evil is not in any real sense
existent. From the Eleatics the Megarians further derived an interest in
logical speculation of all kinds, and they were greatly occupied with the
solution of fallacies: amongst the followers of this school we first meet with
the puzzles of ‘the heap’ (Sorites), ‘the liar’ (Pseudomenos),
and others upon which in later times Chrysippus and othe Stoics sharpened their
wits. DIODORUS the Megarian set out certain propositions with regard to the
relation of the possible and the necessary which are of critical importance in
connexion with the problems of free-will. Finally STILPO, who taught in Athens
about 320 B.C., and who made a violent attack upon Plato’s theory of ideas,
adopted an ethical standpoint not unlike that of the Cynics, and counted
amongst his pupils the future founder of Stoicism. Stilpo enjoyed amongst his
contemporaries a boundless reputation; princes and peoples vied in doing him
honour; but we have scarcely any record of his teaching, and know him almost
exclusively as one who contributed to form the mind of Zeno.
57. Advances of Philosophy. With the school founed by Phaedo of
Elis we are not concerned; the consideration of Plato and Aristotle and their
respective followers we must leave to another chapter. We have already seen
philosophy grow from being the interest of isolated theorists into a force
which is gathering men in groups, and loosening the inherited bonds of city and
class. So far its course has violently oscillated, both as regards its
subject-matter and its principles. But its range is now becoming better
defined, and in the period that is approaching we shall find determined
attempts to reach a comprehensive solution of the problems presented to
enquiring minds.
CHAPTER
III.
THE ACADEMY AND THE PORCH.
THE ACADEMY AND THE PORCH.
58. Political changes of the 4th
century.
BEFORE a hundred years had passed since the death of Socrates, the face of the
Greek world had been completely changed. Athens, Lacedaemon, Corinth, Thebes,
which had been great powers, had sunk into comparative insignificance; their
preeminence was gone, and even of their independence but little remained.
Throughout Greece proper the Macedonian was master. But if the old-fashioned
politician suffered a bitter disappointment, and the adherents of the old
polytheism despaired of the future, there was rich compensation for the young
and the hopeful. Petty wars between neighbouring cities, with their wearisome
refrain ‘and the men they killed, and the women and children they enslaved,’
began to be less common; internal and still more murderous strife between
bigoted oligarchs or democrats began to be checked from without. For the
enlightened Greek a new world of enterprise had been opened up in the East.
Alexander the Great had not only conquered Asia Minor, and established everywhere
the Greek language and a Greek bureaucracy; he had opened the way to the far
East, and pointed out India and even China as fields for the merchant and the
colonizer. His work had been partly frustrated by the disorders that followed
his death; but if achievement was thus hindered, hopes were not so quickly extinguished.
These new hopes were not likely to be accompanied by any lasting regrets for
the disappearance of ancient systems of government now regarded as effete or
ridiculous, or of inherited mythologies which were at every point in conflict
with the moral sense.
59. East and West. The same historic events which opened
the East to Hellenic adventures also made the way into Europe easy for the
Oriental. As the soldier and the administrator travelled eastward, so the
merchant and the philosopher pushed his way to the West. Not merely in Persia
had ancient superstitions been swept away from reforming zeal; the Jews were
now spreading from town to town the enthusiasm of a universalized religion which
was ridding itself of bloody sacrifices; and, for the time at least, the humane
philosophy of the Buddha was dominant in India, was being preached far and wide
by self-sacrificing monks, and was inspiring the policy of great monarchies. We
find it hard to picture the clashing of ideals, enthusiasms, and ambitions which
was at this time taking place in all the great cities of the old world; but it
is certain that in the universal excitement the old distinctions of Greek and
barbarian, Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, free and slave, man and woman were
everywhere becoming weakened, and community of thought and temperament were
beginning to reunite on a new basis individuals who had broken loose from the
ties of ancient society.
60. New schools of philosophy. During this fourth century B.C. the
foundations were laid of the four philosophical schools which were destined to
vie one with another for the allegiance of the Roman world. The Socratic
schools which we have already mentioned, those of the Cynics and Cyrenaics, did
not perhaps altogether die out; in particular the Cynic missionaries appear to
have been a social force until the second century B.C. But their intellectual
basis was too narrow to admit of their effective transplantation to new soil.
At the end of the century each gave place to a new school, which preserved the
central doctrines of its predecessor. The Socratic paradoxes were handed on
from the Cynics to the Stoics; the doctrine that pleasure is the good was
accepted by Epicurus. Stoics and Epicureans disputed with a bitterness as yet
unequalled, finding themselves just as much opposed upon the subjects of logic
and physics, which they introduced anew into popular philosophy, as upon the
questions of ethics on which their antipathies were inherited. Between them
stood two schools which had meanwhile established themselves. Plato, himself a
companion of Socrates, founded the Academy at Athens about 380 B.C.; and if he
did not impress his own teaching upon it with absolute fixity, still the school
flourished under a succession of leaders, always proud of the fame of its
founder, and rendering him at least a nominal allegiance. From the Academy
branched off the school of the Peripatetics, founded by Plato’s pupil Aristotle
about 350 B.C. After Aristotle’s death this school gravitated towards the
Academics, and in later centuries there seemed little difference, if any,
between the two. If Stoicism may be called the child of Cynicism, it largely
drew nourishment from these two schools and their founders. Some account of the
teaching of Plato and Aristotle is therefore needed here, partly because of the
great importance of both in the general history of philosophy, partly because
of their direct influence upon the subject of this book. On account of the much
greater prominence of the Academy in the later history we shall often use this
term to refer to the general teaching of the two allied schools.
61. Plato. Of all the companions of Socrates far
the most famous is PLATO of Athens (427–347 B.C.), the founder of the
philosophical association known as the ‘Academy.’ In the general judgment of
lovers of Greek letters he stands out not merely as a great master of Attic
prose style, but also as the ablest exponent of the true mind of Socrates, and
the most brilliant light of Greek philosophy. On the first point this judgment
stands unchallenged; for delicate and good-natured wit, felicity of
illustration and suggestiveness of thought the Platonic dialogues are
unrivalled. But it is only in his earlier writings that we can accept Plato as
a representative of Socrates; after the death of his master he travelled for
many years in Egypt, Lower Italy, and Sicily, and absorbed in particular much
of the teaching of the Pythagoreans. The theory of ‘ideas,’ the special
characteristic of Plato’s later work, is not strictly Socratic. Neither, we
must add, is it of first-rate importance in the history of human thought; from
our point of view it lies apart from the main current both of speculation and
of practice. It was a still-born theory, not accepted even by Plato’s
successors in the control of the Academy. We are therefore very little
concerned with the direct teaching of Plato; but all the more readily it should
be acknowledged that the Stoics were often indebted to him for help in the
treatment of important details, and that the Platonic attitude remained for
them a factor of which they needed continuously to take account.
62. Plato’s realism. A striking feature of the Platonic
dialogues is that their results are usually negative. First the opinions of the
crowd, then those of Socrates’ contemporaries the ‘sophists’ and of the other
Socratic schools are subjected to a cross-examination, under which they are one
and all shewn to be unreasonable. This cross-examination is quite in the
Socratic spirit, and is before all things a mental gymnastic, training the
dialectician to observe with keener eye and to discuss with apter tongue than
his fellows. Gradually there emerges from a mass of doubts something like a
positive theory that Plato is prepared to adopt. The true reasoning is that of
induction from the particular to the general, from the individual to the class.
In the class name we come upon the true being of the individual, and by a right
definition of it we discern what each thing really is. The ‘idea,’ which
corresponds to the class name, is alone really existent; the individual is a
more or less imperfect imitation of it (μίμησις). In this way Plato found what
seemed to him a solution of a difficulty which Socrates hardly felt, that of
explaining the participation (μέθεξις) of the particular in the general
(ὑπόθεσις or ἰδέα). Thus where ordinary men see ‘horses,’ and Antisthenes holds
that they are right, Plato sees ‘horsiness,’ or the idea of ‘horse.’ In the
language of medieval philosophy Plato is a realist, that is, one who
holds that our Ideas are more than what men mean when they say ‘mere ideas’;
that they are Realities, and have their being in a truly existing world; and
that in knowing them we know what is. But just as Plato holds that
general conceptions are alone true and real, so he necessarily maintains that
objects perceivable by the senses are only half-real, and that the ordinary man
lives in a world of illusions. Thus the thoughts of the philosopher are separated
by an abyss from the world in which men live and die.
63. God and the soul. Upon the basis of the individual
‘ideas’ Plato builds up by a process of classification and induction higher and
smaller classes of ideas, until we begin to see the vision of a single idea, a
class which includes all classes, a supreme ‘being’ from which all being is
derived. This highest idea is variously suggested by the names ‘the Good,’ ‘the
Beautiful,’ ‘the One.’ By a sudden transformation it becomes the Creator (δημιουργός)
of the universe. Containing in itself all being, it needs for its operation
some kind of formless and inert matter; for this the name ἄπειρον, ‘the
unlimited,’ is taken from Anaximander. The whole created universe may be
considered as the joint production of the ‘idea’ and the ‘unlimited’; and the
cosmology of Anaxagoras, ‘all things were together, and mind came and ordered
them,’ is substantially justified. The world thus created is both good and
beautiful, for it is made by a good Creator on the best of patterns.
The human soul is of triple nature. The
highest part, the rational soul (τὸ λογιστικόν), is seated in the head; the
emotional soul (τὸ θυμοειδές) in the heart; the appetitive soul (τὸ
ἐπιθυμητικὸν) in the belly. Over these two lower souls the reasoning part
shquld hold control, as a driver over two unruly steeds. The rational soul has
existed before birth, and may hope for immortality, for it is knit up with the
idea of ‘being.’ Ultimately it may even attain to perfection, if it is purified
as by fire from baser elements that have attached themselves to it.
64. Ethics and Politics. Plato himself does not formulate an
ethical ideal of the same precision that his successors used, but we infer from
his works a goal towards which he points. Thus the ethical end for each man is
the greatest possible participation in the idea of the good, the closest
attainable imitation of the deity. The virtue of each part of the human soul
lies in the fit performance of its proper work; that of the reasoning soul is
Wisdom (σοφία); of the emotional soul Courage (ἀνδρεία); of the appetitive soul
Soberness (σωφροσύνη). Over all (it is hinted rather than stated) rules the
supreme virtue of Justice (δικαιοσύνη), assigning to each part its proper
function. Thus the four cardinal virtues are deduced as a practical application
from the Platonic psychology. The high position assigned to Justice leads up to
the practical doctrine of Moderation (μετριότης); even the virtues are
restricted both in their intensity and in their spheres of work, and if any
virtue passes its proper limit it becomes changed into the vice that borders on
it. Thus the ideal of practical life is the ‘moderate man,’ calm, considerate,
and self-respecting, touched with a warm flow of feeling, but never carried
away into excitement; and even this ideal is strictly subordinate to that of
the life of philosophic contemplation.
The ideal State is modelled on the
individual man. To the three parts of the soul correspond three classes of
citizens; the rulers, whose virtue is Wisdom; the guardians, on whom Courage is
incumbent; the labourers and tradesmen, who owe the State Soberness and
obedience. Thus the political system to which Plato leans is that of an
Aristocracy; for the middle class in his state has only an executive part in
the government, and the lower orders are entirely excluded from it.
65. Aristotle. By far the greatest of Plato’s pupils
was ARISTOTLE of Stagira (384–322 B.C.), who introduced into philosophy, now
convulsed by the disputes of the disciples of Socrates, a spirit of
reconciliation. From his point of view the various contentions are not so much
erroneous as defective. To attain the truth we need first to collect the
various opinions that are commonly held, and then to seek the reconciling
formula of which each one is a partial statement.
66. The ten categories. In his investigation Aristotle did not
altogether break with Plato’s theory of ideas, but brought them from a
transcendental world into touch with common life. He held fast to the method of
induction (ἐπαγωγή) from the particular to the general, and agreed that we
reach the true nature of each thing when we have determined the
class-conception. But the class-conception or idea (ἰδέα), though the most real
existence, does not exist independently, but only in and through the
particulars, which compose the class. Having thus come to see that there are
gradations of existence, we need to inquire what these are and to classify the
various kinds of judgment with regard to which we inquire whether they are true
or false. Now by observation we find that judgments or predications have ten
different shapes, to which therefore there must correspond ten kinds of
existence. These are the well-known ‘categories’ of Aristotle, and are as
follows:
- (i) ‘substance,’ as when we say ‘this is a man,’ ‘a horse’
- (ii) ‘quantity,’ as that he is ‘six feet high’;
- (iii) ‘quality,’ as ‘a grammarian’;
- (iv) ‘relation,’ as ‘twice as much’;
- (v) ‘place,’ as ‘at Athens’;
- (vi) ‘time,’ as ‘last year’;
- (vii) ‘position,’ as ‘lying down’;
- (viii) ‘possession,’ as ‘with a sword’;
- (ix) ‘action,’ as ‘cuts’; and
- (x) ‘passion,’ as ‘is cut’ or ‘is burned.’
Aristotle thus reinstates the credit of
the common man; he it is who possesses the substance of truth and gives it
habitual expression by speech, even roughly indicating the various kinds of
existence by different forms of words. It is now indicated that a study of
grammar is required as the foundation of logic.
Aristotle also greatly advanced the
study of that kind of reasoning which proceeds from the general to the
particular, and which is best expressed in terms of the ‘syllogism’
(συλλογισμός), of which he defined the various forms.
67. The four causes. In the study of physics Aristotle
picks up the thread which Socrates had dropped deliberately, that is, the
teaching of the Ionic philosophers. Either directly from Empedocles, or from a consensus
of opinion now fairly established, he accepted the doctrine of the four
elements (στοιχεῖα), earth, water, air, and fire; but to these he added a fifth
(πεμπτὸν στοιχεῖον, quinta essentia), the aether, which fills the
celestial spaces. Behind this analysis lies the more important problem of
cosmology, the question how this world comes to be. Collecting once more the
opinions commonly held, Aristotle concludes that four questions are usually
asked, and that in them the search is being made for four ‘causes,’ which will
solve the respective questions. The four causes are:
- (i) the Creator, or ‘efficient cause,’ answering the question; — Who made the world?
- (ii) the Substance, or ‘material cause’; — of what did he make it?
- (iii) the Plan, or ‘modal cause’; — according to what design?
- (iv) the End, or ‘final cause’; — for what purpose?
Reviewing these ‘causes’ Aristotle
concludes that the first, third, and fourth are ultimately one, the Creator
containing in his own nature both the plan and the purpose of his work. The
solution is therefore dualistic, and agrees substantially with that of Plato;
the ultimate existences are (i) an informing power, and (ii) matter that has
the potentiality of accepting form.
In consequence of this dualism of
Aristotle the term ‘matter’ (ὕλη, materia) has ever since possessed
associations which did not belong to it in the time of the hylozoists. Matter
now begins to suggest something lifeless, inert, and unintelligent; and to be
sharply contrasted not only with such conceptions as ‘God’ and ‘mind,’ but also
with motion and force. For this reason the Stoics in reintroducing monism
preferred a new term, as we shall see below.
68. The microcosm. What God is to the universe, that the
soul is to the body, which is a ‘little universe.’ But the reasoning part of
the soul only is entirely distinct; this is of divine nature, and has entered
the body from without; it is at once its formative principle, its plan, and its
end. The lower parts of the soul are knit up with the body, and must perish
with it. So far Aristotle’s teaching differs little from that of Plato but a new
point of view is introduced when he speaks of the soul as subject to ‘diseases’
(παθήματα), and thus assigns to the practical philosopher a social function as
the comrade of the physician. Amongst the diseases he specially names Pity and
Fear, which assail the emotional part of the soul. Their cure is found in
‘purging’ (κάθαρσις), that is to say in their complete expulsion from the soul,
as reason and circumstances may require; but Aristotle by no means considers
that the analogy between body and soul is complete, or that the emotions should
always be regarded as injurious.
69. Ethics and Politics. In setting forth an ideal for human
activity Aristotle conceives that other philosophers have differed more in
words than in substance, and he hopes to reconcile them through the new term
‘blessedness’ (εὐδαιμονία). This blessedness is attained when the soul is
actively employed in a virtuous way, and when it is so circumstanced that it
commands the instruments of such action, that is, in a life which is adequately
furnished. On such activity pleasure must assuredly attend, and it is therefore
needless to seek it of set purpose. Further, virtue appears personified in the
‘true gentleman’ (καλὸς κἀγαθός), who ever avoids vicious extremes, and finds
his highest satisfaction in pure contemplation, just as the Creator himself
lives to contemplate the world he has produced.
In politics Aristotle can find ground
for approving in turn of monarchy, oligarchy, and democracy, according to the
circumstances of each state. We cannot however but feel that his sympathies
point most towards monarchy, and that his personal association with Alexander
the Great was in full harmony with his inmost convictions. As a means of
government he advocates before all things the education of the young.
70. Social prepossessions. The philosophies of Plato and
Aristotle, comprehensive in their range, brilliant and varied in their
colouring, nevertheless appeal effectively only to a limited circle. Socrates
had been the companion of rich and poor alike; Plato and Aristotle addressed
themselves to men of wealth, position, and taste. Their sympathies appear
clearly in their political systems, in which the sovereign or the aristocracy
is considered fit to play a part, whilst the many are practically excluded from
the commonwealth, sometimes as a harmless flock which needs kindly shepherding,
and at other times as a dangerous crowd which must be deceived or enslaved for
its own good. These prepossessions, which we shall find reappearing within the
Stoic system, appear to weaken the practical forcefulness of both philosophies.
In the ideal character the Socratic ‘force’ has disappeared, and
‘self-restraint’ alone is the standard of virtue; the just man moves quietly
and conventionally through life, perhaps escaping blame, but hardly achieving
distinction. In resuming the study of ontology, which Socrates had treated as a
‘mist from Ionia,’ bright fancies had been elaborated rather than dominating
conceptions; the deity of Aristotle seems but a faint reflex of the god of
Socrates and the Cynics, and neither the ‘idea’ of Plato or the ‘matter’ of
Aristotle is so well fitted for the world’s hard work as the atoms of Leucippus
and Democritus. The teachers who succeeded to the control of the two schools
inclined more and more to engross themselves in special studies, and to leave
on one side the great controversial problems.
71. The Academics. The followers of Plato were known as
the ‘Academics’: amongst them we must distinguish between the members of the
‘old Academy,’ as Cicero terms them, and those who followed the innovations of
Arcesilaus. The old Academy chiefly developed the ethical side of Plato’s
teaching, finding that the path of virtue is indicated by the natural
capacities of the individual. Thus XENOCRATES of Chalcedon (396–314 B.C.)
taught that each man’s happiness resulted from the virtue proper to him (οἰκεία
ἀρετή); whilst POLEMO of Athens (head of the school 314–270 B.C.) is said by
Cicero to have defined it as consisting in ‘virtuous living, aided by those
advantages to which nature first draws us,’ thereby practically adopting the
standard of Aristotle. The teaching of Polemo had a direct influence upon that
of Zeno the founder of Stoicism.
But with the first successes of
Stoicism the Academy revived its dialectical position, in strong opposition to
the dogmatism of the new school. ARCESILAUS of Pitane in Aeolia (315–240 B.C.)
revived the Socratic cross-examination, always opposing himself to any theory
that might be propounded to him, and drawing the conclusion that truth could
never be certainly known. Life must therefore be guided by considerations of
probability, and the ethical standard is that ‘of which a reasonable defence
may be made.’ This sceptical attitude was carried still further by CARNEADES of
Cyrene (214–129 B.C.), whose acute criticism told upon the Stoic leaders of his
time, and forced them to abandon some of their most important positions. From
this time a reconciliation between the two schools set in.
72. The Peripatetics. The members of the Peripatetic school
founded by Aristotle are of less importance to us. The Romans found little
difference between their teaching and that of the earlier Academy. Cicero
mentions that the Stoic Panaetius was a keen student of two of the pupils of
Aristotle, THEOPHRASTUS (his successor as head of the Peripatetic school) and
DICAEARCHUS; amongst later teachers in whose views he is interested he names
HIERONYMUS, who held that the supreme good was freedom from pain; CALLIPHO, who
combined virtue with pleasure, and DlODORUS who combined it with freedom from
pain; and amongst his contemporaries STASEAS of Naples, who stated the same
doctrines in a slightly different form, and CRATIPPUS, whom he selected as a
teacher for his own son. It was a common complaint of these teachers that the
Stoics had stolen their doctrines wholesale, and (as is the way with thieves)
had altered the names only. All these writers however agree in denying the
doctrine which Zeno accepted from the Cynics that ‘virtue is sufficient for
happiness,’ and lay stress upon the supply of external goods (χορηγία) as
needed to admit of the active exercise of virtue. They were diligent students
of the written works of their founder, and thus opened the way for the work of
erudition and interpretation which found its centre in Alexandria in a later
period.
73. Zeno. Amidst the conflict of these schools
ZENO grew up. Born in Citium on the island of Cyprus in 336 B.C., in the same
year in which Alexander became king of Macedon, he heard as a boy of the Greek
conquest of the East, and was only 13 years of age when its course was checked
by the death of Alexander. Of the town of Citium the inhabitants were partly
Greek, partly Phoenician; and Zeno, whether or not he was of Phoenician blood, certainly
derived from his environment something of the character of the enterprising and
much-travelled Phoenician nation, and imparted this trait to the school which
he founded. He was nicknamed by his contemporaries ‘the Phoenician,’ and the
title clung to his followers. His father was a merchant of purple, and often
travelled in the one direction to Tyre and Sidon, in the other as far as
Athens, whence he brought back a number of ‘Socratic books,’ which were eagerly
read by the young Zeno, and in time attracted him to the famous Greek city. We
may presume that when he first came to Athens he intended to carry further his
studies without abandoning his calling; but when news reached him of the wreck
of the ship which carried all his goods, he welcomed it as a call to devote
himself entirely to philosophy. His first step in Athens was to seek out the
man who best represented the character of Socrates, as represented in
Xenophon’s Memoirs; and it is said that a bookseller accordingly pointed him to
CRATES of Thebes, the pupil and (it would seem) the successor of Diogenes as
acknowledged head of the Cynic school.
74. Zeno joins the Cynics. Our authorities busy themselves
chiefly with narrating the eccentricities of Crates, who wore warm clothing in
summer and rags in winter, entered the theatre as the audience were coming out,
and drank water instead of wine. But doubtless, like his predecessors in the
Cynic school, he was a man of the true Socratic character, who had trained
himself to bear hunger and thirst, heat and cold, flattery and abuse. His life
and wisdom won him the love of the high-born Hipparchia, who turned from her
wealthy and noble suitors, choosing instead the poverty of Crates, who had
abandoned all his possessions. In his company she went from house to house,
knocking at all doors in turn, sometimes admonishing the inmates of their sins,
sometimes sharing with them their meals. In such a life Zeno recognised the
forcefulness of Socrates, and in the dogmas of the Cynic school he reached the
foundation on which that life was built. From that foundation neither Zeno nor
his true followers ever departed, and thus Stoicism embodied and spread the
fundamental dogmas of Cynism, that the individual alone is really existent,
that virtue is the supreme good, and that the wise man, though a beggar, is
truly a king.
75. Zeno’s Republic. Whilst still an adherent of the Cynic
school, Zeno wrote his Πολιτεία or Republic, which is evidently an
attack on Plato’s work with the same title. If this work does not reveal to us
the fully developed philosopher, it at least shews us better than any other
evidence what the man Zeno was. His ideal was the establishment of a perfect
State, a completion of the work in which Alexander had failed; and he found a
starting-point in a treatise by Antisthenes on the same subject. The ideal
State must embrace the whole world, so that a man no longer says, ‘I am of
Athens,’ or ‘of Sidon,’ but ‘I am a citizen of the world.’ Its laws must be
those which are; prescribed by nature, not by convention. It will have no
images or temples, for these are unworthy of the nature of the deity; no
sacrifices, because he cannot be pleased by costly gifts; no law-courts, for
its citizens will do one another no harm; no statues, for the virtues of its inhabitants
will be its adornment; no gymnasia, for its youth must not waste their time in
idle exercises.
The people will not be divided into
classes (and here Plato’s Republic is contradicted), for all alike will
be wise men; nor will men and women be clothed differently, or shamefacedly
hide any part of their bodies. No man will speak of a woman as his property,
for women will belong to the community only. As for the dead, men will not
trouble whether they bury them (as the Greeks), burn them (as the Indians), or
give them to the birds (as the Persians); for it matters not at all what
happens to men’s dead bodies, but whether their souls shall reach the abodes of
the blest, or need hereafter to be purged by fire from the foulness they have
contracted through contact with the body. To conclude, Love shall be master
throughout the State, being as it were a God cooperating for the good of the
whole; and the wise man shall be a citizen in it, not a missionary, and shall
be surrounded with wife and children.
76. Zeno seeks knowledge. Zeno, after writing his Republic,
took up a position more independent of the Cynics. He could not, perhaps, avoid
noticing that the coming of his model Kingdom was hindered by the
narrowmindedness of the philosophers, their disagreement one with another, and
their lack of clear proofs for their dogmas. He began to realize that the study
of dialectics and physics was of more importance than his Cynic teachers would
allow; and he seems to have conceived the idea of uniting the Socratic schools.
He became eager to learn from all sources, and turned first to Stilpo, who then
represented the Megarian school. Crates, we are told, tried to drag him back
from Stilpo by force; to which Zeno retorted that argument would be more to the
point. From this time he no longer restricted his outlook to force of
character, but sought also for argumentative power and well ascertained
knowledge. The foundations of his state must be surely laid, not upon the
changing tide of opinion, but on the rock of knowledge. That a wise man should
hesitate, change his views, withdraw his advice, he felt would be a bitter
reproach. If indeed virtue, the supreme good, is knowledge, must it not follow
that knowledge is within the reach of man?
77. Zeno’s theory of knowledge. The chief cause of error, Zeno found,
lay in hasty assertion; and this he held was a fault not so much of the
intellect as of the will. In the simplest case the senses present to the mind a
‘picture’ (φαντασία, visum), carrying with it the suggestion of a
statement (e.g. ‘that is a horse’). But it is for the man to consider well whether
this suggestion is true, and only to give his ‘assent’ (συγκατάθεσις, adsensus)
when he is so assured. Assent is an act of the will, and therefore in our
power. Of a picture to which he has given his assent the wise man should retain
a firm hold; it then becomes an item of ‘comprehension’ (φαντασία καταληπτική, comprehensio),
and may be stored in the memory, thus preparing the way for further
acquisitions of knowledge, which in the end combine in ‘scientific knowledge’
(ἐπιστήμη, scientia).
This theory is little more than an
exhortation against the prevailing error of hasty thought (δόξα, opinio);
but it made a very deep impression, especially as enforced by Zeno’s gestures.
He stretched out his fingers and shewed the open palm, saying ‘Such is a picture.’
He partially contracted his fingers, and said ‘This is assent.’ Making a closed
fist, he said ‘This is comprehension.’ Then closing in the left hand over the
right he pressed his fist tight, and said ‘This is science, and only the wise
man can attain to it.’
We have no reason to suppose that this
theory was in any way suggested by Stilpo, from whom however Zeno probably
learnt to attach importance to the formal part of reasoning, such as
‘definition’ and the use of the syllogism. With Stilpo he shared an aversion to
the Platonic theory of ideas, maintaining that ideas are by no means realities
but have only a ‘kind of existence’ in our minds, or (as we should call it
to-day) a ‘subjective existence.’
78. Zeno studies under Polemo. In becoming in turn a listener to
Polemo, Zeno, we may imagine, entered a new world. He left behind the rough
manners, the stinging retorts, and the narrow culture of the Cynics and
Eristics, to sit with other intelligent students at the feet of a man of
cultured manners and wide reading, who to a love for Homer and Sophocles had,
we must suppose, added an intimate knowledge of the works of Plato and
Aristotle, was himself a great writer, and yet consistently taught that not
learning, but a natural and healthy life was the end to be attained. That Zeno
profited much from his studies under Polemo we may conjecture from Polemo’s
good-natured complaint, ‘I see well what you are after: you break down my garden
wall and steal my teaching, which you dress in Phoenician clothes.’ From this
time it became a conventional complaint that Stoic doctrine was stolen from
that of the Academics: yet the sharp conflict between the two schools shews
that this cannot apply to essentials. But in two important matters at least
Zeno must have been indebted to Academic teaching. This school had elaborated
the doctrine of Anaxagoras, which so attracted Socrates, that the world began
with the working of mind upon unordered matter. So too, according to all our
authorities, Zeno taught that there are two beginnings, the active which is
identified with the deity or Logos, and the passive which is inert matter, or
substance without quality. This doctrine appears to pledge Zeno to a dualistic
view of the universe.
79. ‘Soul is body.’ On the other hand the Platonic
teaching on the soul was reversed by Zeno. He denied the opposition between
soul and body. ‘Soul is breath,’ he taught, and ‘soul is body.’ With Plato’s
threefold division of the soul he would have nothing to do; rather he
maintained that the soul has eight parts, each displaying itself in a distinct
power or capacity, whilst all of them are qualities or operations of one soul
in various relations. In this part of his philosophy Zeno appears as a strong
monist, and his debt to the Platonists is necessarily restricted to details.
80. Zeno studies Heraclitus. It would seem then that Zeno after
seeking for philosophic safety for some twenty years in one harbour after
another had so far made shipwreck. But from this shipwreck of his intellectual
hopes he could afterwards count the beginning of a fair voyage. As he eagerly
discussed with his younger fellow-student Arcesilaus the teaching of their
master Polemon, he took courage to point out its weak points, and began to
quote in his own defence not only his previous teachers Crates and Stilpo, but
also the works of Heraclitus. He thus broke down the barrier which Socrates had
set up against the Ionic philosophers. From Heraclitus Zeno drew two doctrines
of first-rate importance; the first, that of the eternal fire and its mutation
into the elements in turn; the second (already referred to) that of the Logos.
It is evident that the Heraclitean doctrine of fire breaks down the distinction
between God and the world, active and passive, soul and body; and is therefore
inconsistent with the dualism which Zeno had partly borrowed from Plato. It is
not clear whether Zeno attained to clearness on this point; but in the general
teaching of the Stoics the monistic doctrine prevailed. Hence God is not
separate from body, but is himself body in its purest form. The Logos or
divine reason is the power which pervades and gives shape to the universe; and
this Logos is identical with the deity, that is with the primitive and creative
Fire. The Logos (ὀρθὸς λόγος, vera ratio) brings into harmony the parts
of philosophy; for it is also on the one hand the guide to right reasoning; on
the other hand the law which prescribes what is right for the State and for the
individual.
81. Zeno opens his school. When Zeno definitely accepted the teaching
of Heraclitus, he felt bound to break finally with the school of Polemo, and he
founded soon after 300 B.C. a school of his own, which was rapidly crowded. His
followers were at first called Zenonians, but afterwards Stoics, from the
‘picture porch’ (so called because it was decorated with paintings by
Polygnotus) in which he delivered his lectures. He now applied himself afresh
to the problem of ethics. Whilst still adhering to the Cynic views that ‘virtue
is the only good,’ and that ‘example is more potent than precept,’ he entirely
rejected the intuitional basis which the Cynics had accepted, deciding in
favour of the claims of reason. He found his ideal in ‘consistency’ (ὁμολογία, convenientia);
as the Logos or Word rules in the universe, so should it also in the
individual. Those who live by a single and harmonious principle possess divine
favour and an even flow of life; those that follow conflicting practices are ill-starred.
In this consistency there is found virtue, and (here again he follows the
Cynics) virtue is sufficient for happiness, and has no need of any external
support.
82. His theory of virtue. But whilst the virtue of the Cynics is
something detached and self-contained, and is ‘natural’ only in the sense that
it is not determined by custom or authority, that of Zeno is bound up with the
whole scheme of the universe. For the universe puts before men certain things,
which though rightly named ‘indifferent’ by the Cynics, and wrongly named
‘good’ by the Academics, have yet a certain value (ἀξία, aestimatio),
and are a natural goal for men’s actions. Such are health, prosperity, good
name, and other things which the Academics named ‘things according to nature’
(τὰ κατὰ φύσιν). These Zeno took over, not as a part of his theory of virtue,
but as the basis of it; and for things having value introduced the term ‘of
high degree’ (προηγμένα), and for their opposites the term ‘of low degree’
(ἀποπροηγμένα), these terms being borrowed from court life. Thus virtue alone
is queen, and all things naturally desired are subject to her command. The end
of life is therefore to live consistently, keeping in view the aims set before
us by nature, or shortly, to live ‘consistently with nature.’ Our authorities
do not agree as to whether Zeno or Cleanthes was the first to use this phrase;
but there can be no doubt that the doctrine is that of Zeno, that it is a
fundamental part of the Stoic system, and that it was maintained unaltered by
all orthodox Stoics. On the other hand the Academics and Peripatetics ridiculed
these new and barbarous terms προηγμένα and ἀποπροηγμένα, and their view has
generally been supported both in ancient and modern times. We cannot however
question the right of Zeno to reserve a special term for that which is morally
good; he was in fact feeling his way towards the position, still imperfectly
recognized, that the language of common life is inadequate to the exact
expression of philosophic principles.
83. Zeno’s syllogisms. In expounding his system Zeno made
much use of the syllogism, thereby laying the foundations of a new style of
oratory, consisting of short and pointed clauses, which became a characteristic
of his school. He no doubt regarded this form as a sure method of attaining
truth but even at the present day the principle that truth can only be reached
from facts and not from words is not everywhere admitted. The syllogisms of
Zeno have all their weak points, and as a rule the term which is common to the
major and minor premisses suffers a shift of meaning. These syllogisms can no
longer convince us, and even in antiquity they were severely criticized. But
they are excellent aids to the memory, and so serve the same end as the
catechisms of the Reformation period. Amongst the syllogisms attributed to Zeno
are these: ‘That which has reason is better than that which has not reason; but
nothing is better than the universe; therefore the universe has reason.’ ‘No
one trusts a secret to a drunken man; but one trusts a secret to a good man;
therefore a good man will not be drunken.’ ‘No evil is accompanied by glory;
but death is accompanied by glory; therefore death is no evil.’ Such syllogisms
were embedded in the numerous works of Zeno, of which many were certainly
extant as late as the time of Epictetus.
84. Epicurus and Arcesilaus. At the very time when Zeno was
elaborating the doctrines of the Porch, another school of equal eminence was
established at Athens by EPICURUS (341–207 B.C.) in his Gardens. Epicurus
combined the ethical principle of the Cyrenaics, that pleasure is the end of
life, with the atomistic philosophy of Democritus; he had no respect for the
study of dialectic, but placed the criterion of truth in the observations of
the senses, leaving little room for the participation of mind or will. Thus in
every part of philosophy his teaching was opposed to that of Zeno, and the two
schools during their whole existence were in the sharpest conflict. We may
nevertheless notice some points of contact between them. Both founded, or
conceived that they founded their ethical doctrine upon physical proofs; that
is, both maintained that the end of life which they put forward was that
prescribed by natural law. As a consequence, they agreed in removing the
barrier which Socrates had set up against the pursuit of natural science. Both
again were positive teachers, or (in the language of the ancients) propounders
of dogmas; and here they came into conflict with the Academic school, which
maintained, and was soon about to emphasize, the critical spirit of Socrates
and Plato. For in the last years of Zeno’s life his old fellow-pupil Arcesilaus
became head of the Academic school (270 B.C.), and at once directed his
teaching against Zeno’s theory of knowledge. Following the practice of Socrates
and of Plato’s dialogues, he argued against every point of view presented, and
concluded that certain truth could not be known by man. He pressed Zeno closely
as to his definition of ‘comprehension,’ and induced him to add a clause which,
in the opinion of his opponent, shewed the worthlessness of the whole doctrine.
Thus was raised the question of the κριτήριον or test of truth, which for at
least a century to come sharply divided the schools.
85. Zeno at Athens. The conflict between these three
schools, which from this time on greatly surpassed all others in importance,
did not embitter the political life of Athens. The citizens watched with
amusement the competition of the schools for numbers and influence, and drew
their profit from the crowds of foreigners who were drawn to Athens by its
growing fame as a centre of adult education. To the heads of the schools they
were ready to pay every mark of respect. With Zeno they deposited the keys of
their gates, and they awarded him during his life-time a gold crown and a
bronze statue. His fame spread abroad, and those of his fellow-citizens of
Citium who were then resident at Sidon claimed a share in it. In his old age
the high-minded Antigonus Gonatas (who occupied the throne of Macedonia with
varying fortune from 278 to 239 B.C.) looked to him for advice and help. But no
offers of public employment could draw Zeno himself from his simple life and
the young companions who surrounded him: like Socrates, he thought that he
could best serve the State by sending out others to take part in its duties. He
died in the year 264 B.C. 90, having been engaged in teaching for more than 30
years from the time when he ‘discovered the truth.’
86. Honours paid to him. The vote which the Athenians passed in
honour of Zeno, shortly before his death, deserves record by its contrast with
that by which their predecessors had condemned Socrates. It ran somewhat as
follows:
‘Whereas Zeno the son of Mnaseas from
Citium has spent many years in this city in the pursuit of philosophy; and has
been throughout a good man in all respects; and has encouraged the young men
who resorted to him in virtue and temperance, and has sped them on the right
path; and has made his own life an example to all men, for it has been
consistent with the teaching he has set forth;
Now it seems good to the people of
Athens to commend Zeno the son of Mnaseas from Citium, and to crown him with a
golden crown (in accordance with the law) for his virtue and temperance, and to
build him a tomb on the Ceramicus at the public expense. And the people shall
elect five Athenian citizens to provide for the making of the crown and the
building of the tomb. And the town clerk shall engrave this vote on two
pillars, and shall set up one in the Academy, and one in the Lyceum. And the
treasurer shall make due allotment of the expense, that all men may see that
the people of Athens honours good men both in their life time and after their
death.’
We have no reason to doubt the
sincerity of this tribute. It is true that all the charges brought against
Socrates hold even more forcibly as against Zeno. But the spirit of political
and religious independence was now dead, and the advantage of the philosophical
schools to the fame and business interests of the city had become clearer; so
that nothing prevented any longer the open recognition of Zeno’s virtues and
eminence. Who will may also read in the decree a belated mark of respect to the
memory of Socrates.
87. Zeno’s breadth of view. In this sketch of the life of Zeno no
attempt has been made to give a complete view of his philosophy; but a few
landmarks have been indicated, by which it may be possible to distinguish which
parts of it were his own, which were taken over from others, and how all were
gradually combined in one whole. Zeno had not the kind of originality which
begins by assuming a general principle, and then explains all things human and
divine by deductions from it. Instead of this he gathered together (as Aristotle
had done before, but with a very different bias) what seemed most sound and
illuminating in the teaching of all the schools which surrounded him. He did
this in a positive spirit, feeling assured that truth exists and is
discernible, and must be consistent in all its parts. We seem unable to say
that in his writings he attained to this consistency, but at least he worked
steadily towards it. The effort for consistency led him in the direction of
monistic principle, though his points of departure both in physics and in
ethics are dualistic. But the teaching of Zeno does not lend itself to that
kind of study which assigns all new facts to compartments of thought ready
labelled in advance, nor can it be summarized by any of the technical terms
which are in use in modern philosophical thought. Enough has perhaps been said
to shew that, great as was the debt of Zeno to his predecessors, he was no mere
imitator or plagiarist; the history of the following centuries will shew that
he had in some sense touched the pulses of human life more truly than any of
his contemporaries.
CHAPTER
IV.
THE PREACHING OF STOICISM.
THE PREACHING OF STOICISM.
88. The companions of Zeno. DURING the later years of his life
Zeno gathered round him a number of men of practical and speculative capacity,
not unworthy of comparison with the companions of Socrates. His death dissolved
the immediate tie between them. Some took an active part in the work of
government; others followed their teacher’s example, and became the founders of
independent schools of thought; a few devoted themselves to strengthening and
extending Zeno’s system; and many were doubtless engaged in useful employment
of which no record has reached us. Zeno’s work had not yet been exposed to the
test of time, and another century was to pass before it could be seen that the
Stoic school was to be of permanent importance. Towards the schools of the
Cynics, the Megarians, and the Academics, from which its principles were so
largely derived, the attitude of the hearers of Zeno was that of a friendly
interchange of opinions, in which sharp controversy stopped short of enmity;
the followers of Aristotle (the Peripatetics) continued to be but slightly
distinguished from the Academics. But all these schools appear to have united
in opposition to the Cyrenaics and Epicureans; the champions of virtue could
hold no communings with the advocates of pleasure. Individual teachers who
practically reverted to Cynic or Academic teaching still called themselves
Stoics: but the only one of Zeno’s hearers who adopted Cyrenaic views was
contemptuously branded as ‘the deserter.’
89. Persaeus. The most intimate companion of Zeno
was Persaeus of Citium (circ. 300–243 B.C.). He was the fellow-townsman of
Zeno, and, as good authorities assert, at first his personal servant (οἰκέτης)
and afterwards his fellow-lodger. On the recommendation of Zeno he took
service, together with Aratus the poet, with Antigonus Gonatas, king of
Macedonia. Here he was often twitted as to the Stoic paradoxes. King Antigonus
sent him messengers announcing the loss of his wife, child, and property, and
found that he was not entirely indifferent to external circumstances. He
adapted himself easily to court life, and is said to have written a treatise on
the theory of the banquet, in which he did not rise above the moral standard of
his neighbours. Nor did he disdain to hoax Aristo of Chius, who held strongly
to the paradox that ‘the wise man never opines’; he first sent him money by one
of two twins, and then sent another to demand it back. Another Socratic paradox,
that ‘the wise man is sure to be a good general,’ he endeavoured to maintain by
his personal example. Antigonus placed him in command of the acropolis at
Corinth, which was nevertheless taken by Aratus of Sicyon in 243 B.C. According
to one account, Persaeus was wounded in the attack, and afterwards put to death
by the conqueror; others relate that he escaped to Cenchreae. As a philosopher
he is of little importance; but Cicero mentions that he not only maintained
that amongst the gods were men raised to the sky for their services to mankind
(which was an accepted Stoic doctrine), but also that objects useful to man had
been deified.
90. Aratus. Two other companions of Zeno also took
service under Antigonus, apparently at the same time. Of these PHILONIDES of
Thebes is otherwise unknown to us. The other was ARATUS of Soli in Cilicia,
author of the well-known poem The Phaenomena, an astronomical treatise
afterwards; translated into Latin by Cicero, and largely used by Virgil in his Georgics.
The poems of Aratus had a wide influence, and were probably the source from
which so many Stoic conceptions reached Virgil. The most interesting part for
us is the Introduction, in which he interprets Zeus in Stoic fashion as the
deity who dwells in sea and land, in markets and streets: whose family is
mankind; and whose providence has set the stars in the heaven to regulate the
seasons of the year and to be a guide to the farmer and the sailor. The spirit
of this poem is closely akin to that of the hymn of Cleanthes.
91. Sphaerus. Still another hearer of Zeno took a
prominent part in political life. SPHAERUS from the Bosphorus (circ. 250 B.C.)
was attracted to Cleomenes III, king of Sparta, who under his influence
reintroduced the laws of Lycurgus in his city, and particularly those which
referred to the education of the youth and the taking of meals in common. With
these he combined the plan of a monarchy after the Stoic model, in which the
sovereign was to side with the poor against the rich. But in 221 B.C. Cleomenes
suffered a crushing defeat, and was compelled to take refuge with Ptolemy III
(Euergetes), king of Egypt. Sphaerus found his way to the same court. The death
of Ptolemy III left Cleomenes in the position of a disregarded suppliant; but
Sphaerus appears to have found a congenial home in Alexandria, now the centre
of Hellenistic learning, and doubtless introduced the Stoic philosophy in the
circle that gathered round the Museum. He gained a special reputation by the
excellence of his definitions. From an anecdote related of him we must infer
that whilst adhering to Zeno’s doctrine that the wise man will not opine, he
accepted reasonable assurance (τὸ εὔλογον) as a sufficient guide in daily life.
He appears to have laid special stress upon the unity of virtue, maintaining
that the separate virtues are but appearances of virtue or knowledge in
different spheres of action.
92. Herillus. HERILLUS of Carthage (circ. 250 B.C.)
is frequently referred to by Cicero as teaching doctrines hardly
distinguishable from those of the Academy, in that he made knowledge the
highest good, and taught that separate from it, yet with claims of their own,
there existed inferior ends of action (ὑποτελίδες). It does not, however,
appear clearly that he differed much from Zeno. Sphaerus, as we have seen, had
defined the virtues as being ‘knowledge displayed in different spheres of
action,’ and the aim of Herillus, ‘to live according to the standard of life
accompanied by knowledge,’ points in the direction of practical rather than of
speculative wisdom. His ‘subordinate aims’ appear also to correspond with
Zeno’s ‘things of high degree’ (προηγμένα), and are defined as being the first
states to which an animal is attracted upon birth, as food, life, strength
(πρῶτα κατὰ φίσιν); they serve only for ‘ends’ (τέλη) for men who have not yet
attained to wisdom. This doctrine corresponds closely to the Stoic doctrine as
developed somewhat later.
93. Aristo. Aristo of Chios (circ. 250 B.C.)
departed more decidedly from Zeno’s teaching, falling back generally on Cynic
views. He was no favourite of Zeno, who called him a chatterbox: and in later
life he was accused of becoming a flatterer of Persaeus when the latter was in
power, and of luxury in his personal habits. But his success as a teacher was
great, and he formed a body of followers who called themselves Aristonians.
He appears to have supported Zeno
vigorously as to the doctrine of ‘comprehension’; and if on this subject he was
worsted for the moment by Persaeus, he retaliated on some Academic by asking:
‘do you see who is sitting next you?’ The Academic replied ‘I do not.’ ‘Are you
blind, then,’ said Aristo; ‘where are your eyes?’ Still he considered any
systematic study of dialectics to be a mere waste of time; like spiders’ webs,
which seem to display much skill, but are of no use. With regard to physics he
was openly agnostic; of the nature of the gods he thought we could know
nothing, not even whether the deity were animate or no. Ethics alone remained;
but this part of philosophy he reduced by omitting all practical precepts, as
introducing the element of uncertainty. In ethics proper he rejects the theory
of ‘things of high degree’ (προηγμένα), observing that this term does not
harmonize with the treatment of advantages as ‘indifferent,’ but comes
dangerously near to calling them ‘good.’ Virtue, or rather knowledge, is, as he
maintains, the only good; and all that lies between good and evil is alike
indifferent. The highest good may therefore be defined as a state of
indifference (ἀδιαφορία) towards all such things.
Aristo was however once more in
agreement with Stoic doctrine when he maintained the unity of virtue. ‘The
soul,’ he said, ‘has one power only, that of reasoning; one virtue only, the
knowledge of good and evil. When we need to choose the good and avoid the evil,
we call this knowledge Soberness; when we need to do good and not evil, we call
it Wisdom; Courage, when it is bold and cautious at the right moments; and when
it gives every man his due, Justice.’ But in deciding his action the wise man
will be bound by no theories: he can do whatever comes into his head, provided
only he keep himself free from distress, fear and greed.
The popularity of these views was
repressed by the activity of Chrysippus; in Cicero’s time they were, in
cultivated society, extinct. But from the numerous references to Aristo in
literature it is clear that his teaching was by no means forgotten; and when
there took place the revival of the Cynic tone which, we see illustrated in the
writings of Epictetus and M. Aurelius, Aristo is again treated with high
respect.
94. Eratosthenes. An eminent pupil of Aristo was
ERATOSTHENES of Cyrene, the grammarian, whom he won over from the Cyrenaic
school. Eratosthenes undoubtedly represented the spirit of his teacher and of
the Cynic school towards which he inclined, when he vehemently repudiated the
prejudice which then divided mankind into Hellenes and barbarians. He was
invited by Ptolemy III (Euergetes) to be chief librarian of the Museum at
Alexandria, and tutor to the crown-prince, and has left us an epigram in honour
of this great patron of learning and philosophy. Amongst other followers of
Aristo we hear specially of APOLLOPHANES of Antiochia.
95. Dionysius. Alone amongst the hearers of Zeno
DIONYSIUS of Heraclea abandoned his principles, and went over from the camp of
virtue to that of pleasure. A painful disease of the eyes had made him abandon
the doctrine that ‘pain is no evil.’ His secession was used by Antiochus as an
argument against the doctrine of comprehension or certain knowledge. That his
life after he became a Cyrenaic was openly scandalous we need not too readily
believe: such accusations may easily be mere deductions from his supposed
philosophic principles. Dionysius appears to have been a particular friend and
admirer of the poet Aratus.
Of the less important hearers of Zeno
we have the names of, amongst others, ATHENODORUS of Soli, CALLIPPUS of
Corinth, POSIDONIUS of Alexandria, and ZENO of Sidon. The last, if he existed,
must be kept distinct from other Zenos, such as Zeno of Tarsus the pupil of
Chrysippus, and Zeno of Sidon the Epicurean philosopher.
96. Cleanthes. We come last amongst Zeno’s hearers to
Cleanthes of Assos in Asia Minor (331–232 B.C.), who succeeded Zeno as head of
the school when already advanced in years, and presided over it for a whole
generation. In personal character he was a worthy successor of Socrates,
Diogenes, and Zeno. He was trained in hardship and willing endurance; and if he
did not quickly understand, yet all he learnt was deeply impressed upon him. He
studied Zeno’s life even more attentively than his doctrines; lived with him,
watched his hours of retirement, inquired whether his actions corresponded to
his teaching. Himself a man of the people, he ardently desired to spread his
convictions amongst the many, and chose verse as the best means to express
clearly his meaning and win access to men’s ears. He remained constant to
Zeno’s teaching, but he inspired it with a fresh enthusiasm and developed it in
more consistent detail. He is before all things the theologian of Stoicism. The
belief in the deity, which in the fragments of Zeno’s teaching appears merely
formal and argumentative, becomes in the verse of Cleanthes ardent and
dominating. God is the creator and the director of the world; his Logos gives
it order and harmony. In God’s designs it is the privilege and duty of man to
co-operate; but since he is possessed of free will, it is also within his power
to make a futile opposition. In this way the good and the bad stand in definite
contrast. Finally, right knowledge and right action are only possible by
association with the deity through praise and prayer.
97. His poetry. It is our good fortune to possess
several complete poems of Cleanthes, which are of more value to us towards
appreciating his standpoint than a hundred detached sentences would be. The hymn
to Zeus is the most important, and its likeness to the opening of Aratus’ Phaenomena
will not escape notice.
Hymn to Zeus.
Supreme of gods, by titles manifold
Invoked, o thou who over all dost hold
Eternal dominance, Nature’s author, Zeus,
Guiding a universe by Law controlled;
Hail! for ’tis meet that men should call on thee
Whose seed we are; and ours the destiny
Alone of all that lives and moves on earth,
A mirror of thy deity to be.
Therefore I hymn thee and thy power I praise;
For at thy word, on their appointed ways
The orbs of heaven in circuit round the earth
Move, and submissive each thy rule obeys,
Who holdest in thy hands invincible
So dread a minister to work thy will —
The eternal bolt of fire, two-edged, whose blast
Thro’ all the powers of nature strikes a chill —
Whereby thou guid’st the universal force,
Reason, through all things interfused, whose course
Commingles with the great and lesser lights —
Thyself of all the sovran and the source:
For nought is done on earth apart from thee,
Nor in thy vault of heaven, nor in the sea;
Save for the reckless deeds of sinful men
Whose own hears lead them to perversity.
But skill to make the crookèd straight is thine,
To turn disorder to a fair design;
Ungracious things are gracious in thy sight,
For ill and good thy power doth so combine
That out of all appears in unity
Eternal Reason, which the wicked flee
And disregard, who long for happiness,
Yet God’s great Law can neither hear nor see;
Ill-fated folk! for would they but obey
With understanding heart, from day to day
Their life were full of blessing, but they turn
Each to his sin, by folly led astray.
Glory would some thro’ bitter strife attain
And some are eager after lawless gain;
Some lust for sensual delights, but each
Finds that too soon his pleasure turns to pain.
But, Zeus all-bountiful! the thunder-flame
And the dark cloud thy majesty claim:
From ignorance deliver us, that leads
The sons of men to sorrow and to shame.
Wherefore dispel it, Father, from the soul
And grant that Wisdom may our life control,
Wisdom which teaches thee to guide the world
Upon the path of justice to its goal.
So winning honour thee shall we requite
With honour, lauding still thy works of might;
Since gods nor men find worthier meed than this —
The universal Law to praise aright.
Translated by W. H. Porter.
Supreme of gods, by titles manifold
Invoked, o thou who over all dost hold
Eternal dominance, Nature’s author, Zeus,
Guiding a universe by Law controlled;
Hail! for ’tis meet that men should call on thee
Whose seed we are; and ours the destiny
Alone of all that lives and moves on earth,
A mirror of thy deity to be.
Therefore I hymn thee and thy power I praise;
For at thy word, on their appointed ways
The orbs of heaven in circuit round the earth
Move, and submissive each thy rule obeys,
Who holdest in thy hands invincible
So dread a minister to work thy will —
The eternal bolt of fire, two-edged, whose blast
Thro’ all the powers of nature strikes a chill —
Whereby thou guid’st the universal force,
Reason, through all things interfused, whose course
Commingles with the great and lesser lights —
Thyself of all the sovran and the source:
For nought is done on earth apart from thee,
Nor in thy vault of heaven, nor in the sea;
Save for the reckless deeds of sinful men
Whose own hears lead them to perversity.
But skill to make the crookèd straight is thine,
To turn disorder to a fair design;
Ungracious things are gracious in thy sight,
For ill and good thy power doth so combine
That out of all appears in unity
Eternal Reason, which the wicked flee
And disregard, who long for happiness,
Yet God’s great Law can neither hear nor see;
Ill-fated folk! for would they but obey
With understanding heart, from day to day
Their life were full of blessing, but they turn
Each to his sin, by folly led astray.
Glory would some thro’ bitter strife attain
And some are eager after lawless gain;
Some lust for sensual delights, but each
Finds that too soon his pleasure turns to pain.
But, Zeus all-bountiful! the thunder-flame
And the dark cloud thy majesty claim:
From ignorance deliver us, that leads
The sons of men to sorrow and to shame.
Wherefore dispel it, Father, from the soul
And grant that Wisdom may our life control,
Wisdom which teaches thee to guide the world
Upon the path of justice to its goal.
So winning honour thee shall we requite
With honour, lauding still thy works of might;
Since gods nor men find worthier meed than this —
The universal Law to praise aright.
Translated by W. H. Porter.
98. Another short poem of Cleanthes
identifies Zeus with fate, and points the same moral as to human duty:
Lead me, O Zeus, and lead me, Destiny,
What way soe’er ye have appointed me!
I follow unafraid: yea, though the will
Turn recreant, I needs must follow still.
What way soe’er ye have appointed me!
I follow unafraid: yea, though the will
Turn recreant, I needs must follow still.
In other poems characteristic Stoic
doctrines are set forth with clearness and emphasis:
‘Look not at common opinion, and be not
eager to be wise of a sudden; fear not the chatter of the many, in which there
is no judgment and no modesty; for the crowd does not possess shrewd just and
fair judgment, but amongst the few you may perchance find this.’
‘Do you ask me of what kind the good
is? Listen then. It is orderly, just, innocent, pious, self-controlled, useful,
fair, necessary, severe, upright, always of advantage; fearless, painless,
profitable, without smart; helpful, pleasing, sure, friendly, honourable,
consistent; noble, not puffed up, painstaking, comforting, full of energy,
biding its time, blameless, unchanging.’
‘He who abstains from some disgraceful
action yet all the while has desire for it, will some day do it, when he gets
opportunity.’
In the last of the passages we are
introduced to an ethical paradox of the highest importance to Stoicism: that
good and evil are set in the will and the intention, and are not dependent upon
the action.
99. Originality of Cleanthes. To the ancients Cleanthes was the
faithful disciple of Zeno. Persaeus, Aratus, and others had turned aside from
the direct pursuit of philosophy, and their contact with science and politics
might easily sully the purity of their philosophic creed. Herillus had adopted
Academic doctrine, Aristo had fallen back into Cynism, Dionysius had actually
seceded to the party of pleasure. It might seem that the far-reaching sweep of
Zeno’s intellect had no real hold on his companions. But Cleanthes at least
stood firm by the old landmarks. We must not suppose from this that he was a
man of no originality; his language and his style at least are his own. Nor on
the other hand can we go all the way with some recent writers, who attribute to
him exclusively large parts of the Stoic system. Our authorities commonly refer
either to Zeno alone, or to Zeno, Cleanthes, and Chrysippus jointly, as
vouching for accepted Stoic doctrine; and we are hardly entitled to lay great
stress on the comparatively few fragments of which the authorship is assigned exclusively
to Cleanthes, as evidence for the independence of his teaching; especially as
we can in many instances see that our authorities delight in attributing a
difference of meaning to the Stoic masters, when in reality there is nothing
more to be found than a difference of phrasing. It is however clear that
Stoicism did not assume its complete form in the hands of its first propagator;
and to a limited extent we can see the directions in which his teaching was
amplified by his successors.
100. Physics of Cleanthes. Cleanthes took a special interest in
the physical speculations of Heraclitus, on whose writings he composed four
books, and in particular in the bearing of his speculations upon the nature of
the deity. The belief in the dualism of God and matter, of the Word and the
world, is attributed to Cleanthes as distinctly as to Zeno; but on the other
hand the conception of an overruling unity is much more pronounced in the later
writer. Hence from the first Cleanthes endeavours to give a wider meaning to
the primary fire of Heraclitus, the creative fire of Zeno. For this fire he proposed
the new term ‘flame’ (φλόξ); at other times he identified it with the sky, with
the sun, and with the principle of heat; and finally adopted the term ‘spirit’
(πνεῦμα, spiritus), which has ever since held its place in the
discussion of natural theology. This term appears to have been at first
intended to combine the conceptions of the creative fire and of the Logos, but
it gradually came to have distinctive associations of its own. Like fire,
‘spirit’ is to the Stoics a substance, stuff, or body akin to the element of
air, but associated with warmth and elasticity; it is conceived as immanent in
the universe and penetrating it as the deity; immanent in the human body and
penetrating it as the soul. The elasticity of spirit is measured by its ‘tension
(τόνος, intentio), by means of which its creative power pushes forward
from the centre to the circumference: as for instance in the human body walking
is effected by ‘spirit exercising tension towards the feet.’ The theory of
‘tension’ has an immediate application to ethics. When the soul has sufficient
tension to perform its proper work, it operates according to the virtues of
Wisdom, Justice, Courage, and Soberness; but when the tension is relaxed, the
soul becomes disordered and is seized upon by the emotions.
101. Theology of Cleanthes. To Cleanthes also it fell to explain
more fully the government both of the universe and of the individual. Zeno
indeed is said to have used the term ἡγεμονικόν (principale, principatus),
which we may translate by ‘ruling power,’ or shortly (following the Latin) by
‘principate,’ for the highest power of the human soul; Cleanthes sought a
similar principle in the universe also, and is said to have found it in the
sun. By thus using the term in a double sense he implies the analogy which is
expressed by the correlative terms ‘macrocosm’ and ‘microcosm,’ and which leads
up to the definition of God as the ‘soul of the universe.’ Cleanthes further
speaks of the universe itself as god; but before describing him as a pantheist
it is well to consider that this is only one form out of many in which he
expresses his creed. He was also the first to give the four proofs of the
existence of the deity upon which all discussions of the ‘evidences of Natural
Religion’ have been based down to the present day, and which we shall further
discuss in a later chapter.
The pious zeal of Cleanthes was not
without a touch of bigotry, destined to have serious consequences in the final
developments of Stoicism, and to reappear in the history of the middle ages
with distressing intensity; he was bitterly opposed to the novel heliocentric
theory of the universe as an impiety.
102. Weakness of Stoicism. Thus even though we can no longer
discriminate sharply between the teaching of Zeno and that of Cleanthes, we
have every reason to suppose that the latter was possessed of originality of
thought and vigour and copiousness of expression. We cannot easily believe that
a man of such powers failed to attract hearers or to retain a hold upon them.
But in his extreme old age it seems that the majority were drawn aside either
to the ingenious arguments of Arcesilaus the Academic, or to the more
independent teaching of Aristo of Chios. The continued existence of Stoicism
seemed threatened; its critics were not to be contented with rhetoric or
poetry, but insistently demanded proofs. In this crisis it was saved and
established by a younger man, Chrysippus of Soli (280–206 B.C.), who was far
inferior in original power, but equally zealous and more in harmony with the tastes
and demands of the younger generation.
103. Chrysippus. Chrysippus was a fellow-townsman of
Aratus of Soli, and his appearance is doubtless a sign of the active interest
in philosophy which for some centuries marks the neighbourhood of the important
town of Tarsus. Born in 280 B.C. he found in his early manhood three prominent
teachers at Athens, Arcesilaus, Aristo, and Cleanthes. Of these Aristo seems to
have been the most popular, and surprise was expressed that Chrysippus did not
join his school. ‘Had I followed the many,’ he replied, ‘I should not have
become a philosopher.’ His convictions drew him to Cleanthes, but he felt much
impatience with his methods. This state of mind he must have expressed freely,
for in after life he reproached himself that he had not behaved more kindly towards
his teacher in his old age. Confident in his own powers, he desired to relieve
Cleanthes of the burden of replying to the many attacks made upon his
doctrines, especially as to dialectics. It is well known that he asked his
master to supply him with his dogmas only, saying that he himself would find
the proofs. Chrysippus probably outlived his opponents, and during the time
when he was head of the school (232–206 B.C.) only found himself opposed by men
of mediocre talents. He devoted his whole energies to strengthening and
systematizing Stoic doctrine. He not only gave its proofs, but used every art
of the dialectician to recommend it to his hearers. From his facile pen there
poured an endless stream of writings, not remarkable either for originality or
for style, but of the highest importance as fixing definitely the standard of
Stoic orthodoxy. He gathered numerous hearers round him, and before his death
it could truly be said that he had saved the Stoa.
104. Dialectic of Chrysippus. In his method of exposition Chrysippus
made great use of the syllogism, thus reverting to the practice of Zeno as
opposed to the more poetical style of Cleanthes. As to the value of this
syllogistic reasoning very contrary opinions were expressed in antiquity. By
his contemporaries he was greatly admired, so that it was said that ‘if the
gods had needed a dialectic, they would have taken that of Chrysippus.’ On the
other hand members of his own school complained that he often stated his opponents’
case more forcibly than his own. The Romans mix their praise with censure, and
find that he sometimes entangles himself in the threads of his own argument;
and we ourselves cannot fail to notice that when his major and minor premisses
are compared, the meaning of the common term has usually shifted. But if
Chrysippus did not provide a final solution to great problems, he at least
adapted the Stoic system to the taste of his age, alike by his use of
syllogisms and by the attention he paid to the solution of fallacies.
105. Opposition of the Academy. Whilst the works of Chrysippus cover
the whole range of the Stoic philosophy, their special colour is largely due to
the interests of his own time. The stress laid by Zeno on the certainty of
knowledge had produced a reaction in the Academic school. Arcesilaus, who had
succeeded Polemo as its leader, leaving on one side the positive teaching of
Plato’s later years, reverted to the sceptical attitude which had been one
characteristic of Socrates, and which is so prominent in most of the Platonic
dialogues. He attacked with the utmost vigour Zeno’s doctrine of
‘comprehension’; and further argued that certain knowledge is unnecessary for
practical life, of which probability, that is, such action as can find reasonable
justification, is the sufficient guide. Chrysippus defended with the utmost
energy the dogma of the certainty of knowledge, based upon the perspicuity of
true mind pictures; but the teaching of Arcesilaus obtained a hold upon him,
and (as we shall see) was ultimately allowed by him a place within the Stoic
system.
106. Spread of Epicureanism. Chrysippus meanwhile had a more
dangerous enemy to meet than the Academy. During the weakness which befel the
Stoic school in the middle of the third century B.C., the rival school of
Epicurus had won an enormous popularity. Yet its ethical standard, which it had
inherited from the Cyrenaics, offended not only the followers of Zeno but all
sober-minded philosophers. For Epicurus had set up Pleasure as the queen of
life, and had converted the virtues into her handmaidens; and so far was he
from taking interest in model states, that he advised his hearers to hold aloof
altogether from public life. Worst of all, his followers only smiled at the
reproofs that were showered upon them. They formed among themselves a cheerful,
affectionate, and united society their simple pleasures created no public
scandal, though their entertainments were often enlivened by tales of the moral
lapses of their self-righteous rivals. The bracing morality of Cynism seemed to
be quite gone out of fashion, and even the Aristonians had ceased to exist.
107. Alliance of the three schools. Under these circumstances the
remaining schools began to look one to another for support, and were even brought
into a kind of alliance. The adherents of the Academy and the Porch, in
particular, began to meet in friendly discussion, and sometimes defined anew
their doctrines so as to minimize points of difference, sometimes directly
modified them by way of concession to opposed arguments. This process resulted
in a toning down, of Stoicism in every part of its system. The Stoic teachers
began to disregard or push into the background those characteristic doctrines
which had been embodied in the Socratic paradoxes and enforced by the Cynic
propaganda. Thus their teaching gave less offence to the lax crowd, and at the
same time (it must be admitted) less support to the striving few; but its tone
was now so modest that men of gentle and judicious temperament were attracted
to Stoicism for the first time. Stoicism began now to shew itself receptive of
literary influences, especially as regards the works of Plato and Aristotle,
and even appreciative of artistic ideals. Such was the tendency of the system
during both the second and the first centuries B.C.; but it is more difficult
to estimate the extent of the deviation. Terms like εὐκρασία ‘well proportioned
mixture,’ εὔροια ‘even flow,’ εὺτονία ‘due tone,’ συμφωνία ‘harmony,’ are
attributed even to the earliest masters: whilst it is abundantly clear that the
Socratic and Cynic paradoxes formed at all times part of the generally accepted
view of Stoic doctrine.
108. Chrysippus inclines to the
Academy.
It is an interesting question, which perhaps needs further investigation, to
what extent this approximation between the doctrines of the Academy and the
Porch can be traced in the writings of Chrysippus. On the one hand we must
remember that Chrysippus was a man of distinctly orthodox temperament; he
firmly opposed the Cynizing heresies of Aristo, and strongly defended the Stoic
theory of knowledge against the Academy. But our knowledge of the teaching of
Chrysippus, abundant in volume, is lacking in precision. Our authorities, as we
have seen, very imperfectly distinguish,and very inadequately record, the teaching
of the two earlier masters; and the doctrines which are regarded as common to
all Stoics must be assumed to be generally stated in the language of
Chrysippus, whose works remained for centuries the recognised standard of
orthodoxy. Even so there are few distinctive doctrines of Chrysippus which do
not seem to be foreshadowed in expressions attributed to some earlier teacher.
Yet we may fairly assume that in his ethical teaching there was a substantial
sacrifice of the forcefulness of the Socratic character, and a corresponding
approach to Academic views. This appears when he defines the supreme good as ‘a
life according to nature, that is, both general nature and our individual human
nature,’ and adds, ‘for our individual natures are parts of the nature of the
all.’ This approaches the doctrine of ‘virtue appropriate to the individual’
(οἰκεία ἀρετή, as taught by the Academics. A still more striking concession is
his permission to men engaged in practical life to describe advantages as ‘good
things,’ provided they are carefully distinguished from the supreme good.
109. Successors of Chrysippus. The weakening hold of the Stoics upon
the principles of their founder first becomes evident in the department of
physics. Thus it is an essential part of the theory which the Stoics borrowed
from Heraclitus, that as the whole universe has proceeded from the all-creative
fire, so it must in due course be re-absorbed in it, this periodical
re-absorption being technically known as the ‘conflagration’ (ἐκπύρωσις). On
the other hand the followers of Aristotle, following dualistic principles,
placed God and the universe in eternal contrast, and held both to be immortal.
Ingenious controversialists now pressed the Stoics to explain how their deity
exercised his providence during the periodic intervals in which the universe
had no separate existence. This and like arguments had an immediate effect.
BOËTHUS of Sidon, a contemporary of Chrysippus, abandoned altogether the Stoic
theory on this subject; ZENO of Tarsus, who had been with his father
DIOSCORIDES a pupil of Chrysippus, and who succeeded him as head of the school,
discreetly ‘suspended his judgment’ upon the point. But whatever its
theoretical embarrassments, the Stoic school continued to prosper. Zeno of
Tarsus wrote but few books, but had more disciples than any other; he was
succeeded by SELEUCUS of the Tigris, and he in turn by Diogenes, Antipater, and
Panaetius. The last of these maintained Zeno’s ‘suspense of judgment’ on the
question of the conflagration; but after his death the Stoics quietly returned
to the older opinion.
110. Diogenes and Antipater. Diogenes of Seleucia (circ. 238–150
B.C.; often called ‘of Babylon,’ or simply Diogenes Stoicus), and
ANTIPATER of Tarsus (circ. 200–129 B.C.), were both men of eminence in the
history of Stoicism, but they were unequally matched against Carneades (218–128
B.C.), who was head of the Academic school about the same time, and who
proclaimed the doctrine of a universal suspension of judgment. The many volumes
of Chrysippus gave Carneades ample opportunities for the exercise of his
critical powers; and Antipater, unable or unwilling to meet him in open
argument, fell himself into the evil habit of book-writing. Both these teachers
specially interested themselves in questions of casuistry. Diogenes, who
defined the good as ‘reasonableness in the choice of natural ends,’ adopted
practically that interpretation of ‘reasonableness’ in which divine reason has
the least part, and human plausibility the freest play. Thus he discusses the
problems whether the seller of a house ought to inform the purchaser of its
defects, and whether a man upon whom false coins have been passed may transfer
them to his neighbour. Exactly as Carneades, he finds ‘reasonable excuse’ for
the less scrupulous course. Antipater on the other hand holds that a man’s duty
to his neighbour requires perfect frankness; yet he is said to have abandoned
the Socratic doctrine of the self-sufficiency of virtue, and to have held that
external goods are a part (though only a small part) of the supreme good.
111. Lesser Stoics. We may now shortly mention some less
important Stoic teachers, chiefly of the early part of the second century B.C.,
since their number alone is an indication of the wide influence of the sect.
ARISTOCREON, said to have been the nephew of Chrysippus, set up a statue in his
honour, as the man who could cut his way through the knots tied by the
Academics. ZENODOTUS was a pupil of Diogenes, and wrote an epigram on Zeno: he
at least defended the ‘manly doctrine’ of the founder, and recalled the
principle of the sufficiency of virtue. APOLLODORUS of Seleucia on the Tigris
(sometimes called Ephillus), another pupil of Diogenes, leant towards Cynic
views; for he declared that ‘the wise man will be a Cynic, for this is a short
cut to virtue’; an opinion afterwards adopted by the Stoics generally. He also
wrote on physics. A third pupil of Diogenes was APOLLODORUS of Athens. Closely
associated with Antipater is ARCHEDEMUS of Tarsus; like his fellow-townsman, he
was greatly devoted to dialectics; in ethics he appears to have inclined
strongly to Academic views, holding that the end of life was the regular
performance of daily duties. Just about the time we have now reached (the
middle of the second century B.C.) Eumenes II founded the great library at
Pergamus, intended to rival that of Alexandria. As librarian he installed a
Stoic philosopher, CRATES of Mallos, who devoted much of his time to
grammatical inquiries, and endeavoured to bring Homer into accord with the
Stoic views on geography; he is the first Stoic of whom we hear at Rome, which
he visited about 159 B.C. Being detained there by an accident, he employed his
time in giving lectures on literature; and his pupil Panaetius was destined to
introduce Stoicism to Roman society. Lastly we may mention HERACLIDES of
Tarsus, a pupil of Antipater, said to have broken away from the teaching of the
school by denying that all sins are equal. Athenodorus of Tarsus, who held the
same view, belongs to a later generation. Of uncertain date are Basilides, who
pushed his monism so far as to declare that all things, even statements, are
bodies; EUDROMUS, who wrote on the elements of ethics; and CRINIS, who
interested himself in logic.
CHAPTER
V.
THE STOIC SECT IN ROME.
THE STOIC SECT IN ROME.
112. Growth of the Stoic ‘sect.’ In the third century B.C. Stoicism won
adherents slowly and one by one, as individuals were convinced by reasoning and
example. In the second century its progress became more rapid, for it was
reinforced by inheritance and social influence. Fathers handed down its
doctrine to their sons, and teachers to their pupils. Groups of men united by a
common respect for the school and its founders began to associate together, not
only at Athens, but also (as we may well infer from the list of names given at
the end of the last chapter) at such centres as Pergamus, Babylon, Seleucia,
Tarsus, Sidon, and even Alexandria. Thus out of the school there grew up the
‘sect’ (secta); that is, a society of men drawn from different nations
and ranks, but sharing the same convictions, united by a bond of brotherhood,
and feeling their way towards mutual consolation and support; a company going
through life on the same path, and prepared to submit to a common authority.
The spread of the sect was rapid though quiet; and as we cannot expect to trace
its history from place to place, we are unable to say when first it found
adherents at Rome. But early in the second century B.C. Rome entered into close
political relations with two of the most highly civilized states of Asia Minor,
Pergamus and Rhodes; and through the men of learning and taste who were
associated with these communities Stoicism was introduced to the ruling class
at the centre of the new empire, to win there an easy conquest which proved no
slight compensation for the political subordination of the states from which
its emissaries had sprung.
113. Panaetius. We have already noticed that the Stoic
Crates, the head of the library established at Pergamus, visited Rome in 159
B.C. and there gave lectures on literature, in which he may perhaps have taken
occasion to expound at least the chief doctrines of the Stoic school. Only a
few years later, in 155 B.C., the celebrated embassy from Athens, which included
the heads of three of the chief philosophical schools at that time, arrived in
Rome. Diogenes of Seleucia represented the Stoics, Critolaus the Peripatetics,
and Carneades the Academic school; and all three expounded their respective
theories before enormous audiences. We are told that Diogenes made a good
impression by his sober and temperate style. Thus the way was prepared for the
more permanent influence of PANAETIUS of Rhodes (circ. 189–109 B.C.). He was a
gentleman of position in the wealthy and well-governed island state, and in
early youth pursued his studies at Pergamus, so that he was probably attracted
to the school by Crates. From Pergamus he passed to Athens, where he found
established the three teachers already named, and attached himself to Diogenes,
and after his death to his successor Antipater. His writings shew that he was
also much influenced by the teaching of Carneades. But more than any of his
predecessors he appreciated philosophy in its literary form. Plato, the ‘Homer
of philosophers,’ he held in veneration; from Aristotle, Xenocrates,
Theophrastus and Dicaearchus he constantly quoted. His admiration for these
philosophers greatly influenced his style, and caused him to reject the stiff
and paradoxical form used by his predecessors; it also led to the surrender of
some characteristic Stoic doctrines in favour of the teaching of Plato and
Aristotle. His studies extended to every branch of philosophy, including
astronomy and politics. The latter interest brought him into association with
Polybius the historian, with whom he held frequent discussions as to the best
form of government; the two learned and experienced Greeks agreed in their
admiration for the constitution of Rome. Panaetius visited Rome, and there
became the intimate friend of Scipio Africanus minor: this friendship must have
begun before the year 140 B.C., when Panaetius accompanied Scipio on a mission
to settle the affairs of the East; it lasted till the death of Scipio in 129
B.C. Round Scipio and his Greek friends Polybius and Panaetius there gathered a
society of the noblest and most intelligent men of Rome; and in this circle the
Latin language as well as Greek philosophy found a new birth. At the time of
Scipio’s death Panaetius became the head of the Stoic school at Athens, and
held this position till his own death twenty years later. Amongst his friends
and pupils were men who took a leading part in the government of their native
cities.
114. His ethical teaching. Panaetius may well be regarded as the
founder of Roman Stoicism, and is of special interest to us as the writer of
the treatise (περὶ καθήκοντος) which Cicero has freely translated in his de
Officiis. He sets before us Stoicism as the school which will train the
scholar, the gentleman, and the statesman, whilst he shrinks from those bolder
doctrines, borrowed from the Cynic school, which conflict with that which is
conventional, or, as their opponents say, with that which is becoming. The
central, doctrine that virtue is knowledge, and is the sole and sufficient
good, he accepts as the plain teaching of nature; and with it the paradox that
the wise man never errs. Yet even these maxims are somewhat toned down as he
expresses them; and external advantages appear to him worthy of pursuit, not
only as giving a meaning to virtue and providing a field for its exercise, but
also for their own sake, so long as they do not conflict with virtue; and he
perhaps hesitated to assert positively that ‘pain is no evil.’ In his treatises
the figure of the wise man is withdrawn to the background; he is practically
concerned only with the ‘probationer’ (ὁ προκόπτων), who is making some advance
in the direction of wisdom. This advance is not made by acts of perfect virtue,
but by regular performance of ‘services’ (καθήκοντα, officia), the
simple and daily duties which come in the way of the good citizen. Further,
scientific investigation must not become the main end of life, as perhaps it
seemed to Aristotle; it is permitted only as a recreation in the well-earned
intervals between the calls of active life.
115. His views on physics. It does not appear that Panaetius
devoted much attention to logic; on the other hand he was much occupied with
that part of philosophy which deals with the history of the universe and its
government by divine providence. The Heraclitean theory he appears to have left
altogether on one side; for he rejected the theory of the conflagration, as
Boethus had done before him, accepting the objection of Carneades that ‘if
everything turned into fire, the fire would go out for lack of fuel.’ He
therefore joined the Peripatetics in holding that the universe is immortal; but
since again Carneades has shown that ‘no living thing is immortal,’ it follows
that the world is not an animal, nor is the deity its soul. Upon all these
subjects Panaetius ceased to maintain Stoic doctrines; and, alone amongst Stoic
teachers, he ‘suspended his judgment’ as to the reality of divination.
116. Concession in ethics. Similar concessions to his opponents
mark his treatment in detail of ethics. Thus he takes from Aristotle the view
that ‘virtue is a mean between two vices’; and this doctrine, so alien from
true Stoic principle, forms the basis of the treatment which we find adopted in
the de Officiis. The theory of the four ‘cardinal virtues,’ Wisdom,
Justice, Courage, and Soberness, was probably common property at this time; but
whereas in Cynism Courage and in the earlier Stoicism Wisdom are the dominant
virtues, in the theory of Panaetius Soberness, identified with decorum, far
exceeds the rest in practical importance. Thus the triumph won by Panaetius for
the name of Stoicism was purchased by the sacrifice not only of its physics,
but very largely of its ethics also; and the success of the new system might
not unfairly be described as a victory of literature over logic, of
reasonableness over reason, and of compromise over consistency. However this
may be, Panaetius undoubtedly succeeded in presenting Greek philosophy to his
Roman friends is a form in which it recommended itself alike to their reasoning
powers and to their moral sense.
117. Posidonius. The virtual, though not the nominal,
successor of Panaetius was POSIDONIUS of Rhodes (circ. 135–51 B.C.), who after
studying under Panaetius at Athens travelled widely, finally settling at
Rhodes, and there took an active part in political life. Like his master, he
was a devoted student of Plato, and he wrote a commentary on the Timaeus.
In this commentary he developes a new theory of the universe, which he asserts
to be that which Plato had learnt from the Pythagoreans, and to be at root the
same as that taught by the Stoics. The starting-point is the μονάς or unit;
from this are evolved the numbers and the elements by a principle of flux, as
in the system of Heraclitus. The unity and the first of the numbers, the two,
differ as force and matter; so that the dualism of Aristotle is here definitely
subordinated to a supreme monism. This study of Posidonius is therefore
incidentally of high importance as a side-light on Stoic metaphysics and cosmology.
In addition he wrote on almost all the principal divisions of philosophy, thus
acquiring a brilliant reputation, particularly in the eyes of the philosophic
nobles of Rome. Cicero made his acquaintance at Rhodes in 78 B.C., and refers
to him more often in his works than to any other of his instructors. Pompey, in
the midst of his eastern campaigns, put himself to much trouble to visit him.
Amongst his Roman visitors and admirers were also Velleius, Cotta, and
Lucilius. A century later, Seneca looked back to him as one of those who had
made the largest contribution to philosophy.
118. His teaching. As compared with the more scientific
Panaetius, Posidonius marks a reaction in favour of the religious side of
Stoicism. Thus it comes about that Cicero bases on his work ‘on gods’ (περὶ
θεῶν) his own statement of the Stoic theology in the second book of his de
Natura deorum. Posidonius restores the theory of Divination, as to which
Panaetius had held the gravest doubts. He strongly asserts the divine origin of
the soul, and accepts the Persian view that in this life it is imprisoned in
the body. He affirmed the future conflagration, and found this theory not
inconsistent with a belief in the pre-existence and the immortality of the
individual soul.
In physics and logic alike Posidonius
upholds the doctrine of the Logos, and it appears that it passed directly from
him to Philo of Alexandria, and so into Judaeo-Christian speculation. In ethics
he maintained the sufficiency of virtue, and re-defined it in the spirit of
Cleanthes rather than of Chrysippus. In the practical application of such
doctrines to cases of conscience he disliked the lax views of Diogenes, and
sided rather with Antipater and Panaetius. Finally, he held that the ideal
Republic had already been achieved in the golden age, when the wise had ruled
for the protection and happiness of their subjects.
119. Hecato. HECATO of Rhodes was also a pupil of
Panaetius: he wrote books on ethics and casuistry which were largely used by
Cicero and by Seneca, both of whom frequently refer to him by name. In laying
the foundations of his ethics he distinguishes between the ‘theoretic virtues,’
such as Wisdom, Justice, Courage and Soberness, which call for the assent of
the individual, and are possessed only by the wise man, and the corresponding
‘non-theoretic virtues,’ which are dispositions of body found also amongst the
unwise; as health which corresponds to temperance, and so forth. By this
extension of the conception of virtue the doctrine of its sufficiency is
rendered easy of acceptance. In the practical application of his theory he laid
great stress on the doctrine of ‘relations’ (σχέσεις), that is on duties
towards parent, wife, child, slave, country, and so forth. In order to be in a
position to perform these duties a man is entitled to care for his own life and
property. He need not be too careful to provide for his slaves if provisions
are dear; nor should he too hastily give up for another his chance of escape
from a shipwreck. Hecato therefore seems rather to side with Diogenes in
questions of casuistry, taking a lax view where Antipater and Panaetius would
be inclined to a more altruistic standpoint.
120. The unsectarian philosopher. The three teachers of Rhodes appear to
us as men of great learning and of wide interests, and not without original
force; on the other hand we cannot say that they made any very large contributions
towards the discussion of the great problems of philosophy. Apart from them we
find little trace of creative ability in the school during the first century
B.C. There were however numerous teachers occupied in expounding and defending
the doctrines of the school, and their special interest lay in the
controversies between the Porch and the Academy. From these there resulted a temporary
fusion of the two schools. Their respective names and dogmas remained
unaltered; but attention was no longer given to the great differences of
principle which divided them. Learning, politics, and social influences alike
were at work, not to solve the great controversies, but to throw a mist over
them. From these circumstances there emerged the type which we now call the
‘eclectic,’ but which the Romans called simply the ‘philosopher’; that is, the
man who drew practical wisdom from all sources alike, binding himself to the
dogmas of no school, but winning his way by aptness of discourse and sympathy
of manner to social importance. We have but a limited interest at the present
day in these ephemeral reputations; the type is still with us, both in the
preacher whose sympathies are given with equal readiness to half-a-dozen
warring denominations, and in the politician who emphasizes his connexion by
birth with three or four nationalities and as many grades of society. Nor are
we called upon to question the usefulness of this blurring of differences. We
must however remark that so far as our immediate subject is concerned, the
fusion was equivalent to a defeat of Stoicism by the Academy. That nothing can
be definitely proved; that a man may choose his principles at the bidding of
his fancy; that an argument may be sufficiently sound for practical purposes
even when there exists a counter-argument of almost equal strength; that the
problems of dialectics, physics, and ethics may be discussed separately, instead
of being treated as parts of one whole; all these are the points for which the
Academic contended with as much consistency as his system allowed, and which
every philosopher, whether or not he called himself a Stoic, conceded when he
began to combine the teachings of diverse systems.
121. Lesser Stoics. After the death of Panaetius the
school at Athens appears to have been conducted by DARDANUS and MNESARCHUS,
both of Athens, jointly; later we find at its head DIONYSIUS of Cyrene, who
enjoyed a great reputation as a mathematician, and was a vigorous opponent of
Demetrius the Epicurean. About the same time ATHENODORUS the elder of Tarsus
(circ. 130–60 B.C.) became librarian at Pergamus; he made use of his position
to erase from Zeno’s works those passages (probably from the Republic)
which were repugnant to the Stoic teaching of his own time; he was however
detected and the passages in question were restored. It appears also that he
counselled withdrawal from the vexations of public life, a policy by no means
consistent with the teaching of Zeno, and for which he is rebuked by Seneca.
From him we first hear the practical precept which both Seneca and Juvenal
echo, to ask nothing of the gods that you cannot ask openly. In his old age he
left Pergamus and came to reside at Rome with M. Porcius Cato in B.C. 70.
Amongst the younger friends of Cato were ANTIPATER of Tyre, who wrote on
practical ethics, and died at Athens about 45 B.C.; and APOLLONIDES, with whom
he conversed on the subject of suicide shortly before his death. From DIODOTUS
Cicero received instruction in Stoicism before 88 B.C.; he conceived a great
affection for him, and invited him to live in his house: he remained there till
his death in 59 B.C., when left Cicero a considerable property. In his old age
he was blind, but he continued his studies, and in particular that of
mathematics, as ardently as ever. APOLLONIUS of Tyre wrote a biography of Zeno,
from which Diogenes Laertius often quotes. To this period perhaps belongs
HIEROCLES, who was bitterly opposed to Epicurus on account of his choosing
pleasure as the end of life, and still more for his denial of providence.
122. Cicero. We have little reason to regret that
only fragments at most remain to us of the works of these philosophers, since CICERO
presents to us a comprehensive view not only of the doctrines they professed,
but also of the criticisms which their opponents passed upon them, and again of
the replies they made to these criticisms. In carrying out this work for
Stoicism and its rival systems Cicero not only created the philosophic
terminology of the future by his translations of technical terms from Greek
into Latin, but also established a new style of philosophic discussion. By the
friendly tone of his dialogues, placed in the mouths of men whose common
interest in Greek studies made the divergencies of the schools to which they
belonged a secondary matter; by the amplitude of his style, which gives itself
time and space to approach a difficult conception from many points of view; and
by the simplicity of his language and illustrations, which assumes that every
philosophical contention can be plainly and forcibly put before the average man
of letters, he has set an example of the art of exposition which has perhaps
not been surpassed since. His most systematic expositions of Stoic doctrine are
as follows. In the Academica a general view of Zeno’s teaching is given
by M. Varro (i 10, 35 to 11, 42), and the Stoic logic, as accepted by
Antiochus, is defended by L. Licinius Lucullus (ii 1, 1 to 19, 63). In the de
Natura deorum (bk ii) the Stoic physics is explained by Q. Lucilius Balbus;
in the de Finibus (bk iii) the Stoic ethics by M. Porcius Cato, as the
most distinguished Roman who has adopted them as a standard of life. In the de
Officiis Cicero adopts the form of a letter addressed to his son when
studying at Athens, and avowedly adapts the substance of the work of Panaetius
already mentioned, supplementing it from a memorandum of the teaching of
Posidonius which was specially prepared for him by ATHENODORUS CALVUS; this
book deals with ethics mainly in its practical applications. In many of his
other works, such as the de Amicitia, de Senectute, Tusculan
disputations, de Fato, de Divinatione, and Paradoxa,
Cicero makes use of Stoic material without giving professedly an exposition of
the Stoic system.
123. The school to which Cicero finally
attached himself was that founded by ANTIOCHUS of Ascalon (circ. 125–50 B.C.),
who under the name of the ‘old Academy’ taught doctrines which were practically
indistinguishable from those of the diluted Stoicism which now prevailed,
avoiding only the dogmatic temper and a few of the paradoxes of the Stoics.
This appears to have been the prevailing tone of philosophical discussion from
the fall of the Republic to the death of Augustus. Brutus (the ‘tyrannicide’),
though family and political associations have linked his name with that of
Cato, was in his philosophical opinions a follower of Antiochus. Not very
different were probably the views of two teachers, nominally Stoics, who held
high positions in the household of Augustus. ATHENODORUS the younger of Tarsus
(possibly the same as the Athenodorus Calvus mentioned in the last section) was
a pupil of Posidonius, and whilst teaching at Apollonia counted amongst his
pupils Julius Caesar’s great-nephew Octavius, who was afterwards to become the
emperor Augustus. Octavius took his teacher with him to Rome, and he had the
credit of exercising a restraining influence on his patron. In B.C. 30 he was
sent in his old age to reform the government of his native city Tarsus. He
appears to have written chiefly on popular moral subjects. Areius DlDYMUS of
Alexandria, who was for a longer period installed in the household of Augustus,
is of interest to us as the first of those who made excerpts from the works of
earlier writers, and to him we owe most of the Stoic fragments found in the
work of Stobaeus. He probably depended in the first instance on the writings of
Antiochus of Ascalon. He was instrumental in saving his native town Alexandria
when taken by Augustus in B.C. 30. It is probable enough that his ‘Epitome’ was
prepared for the use of Augustus, and provided the material for philosophical
discussions at the banquet, such as those to which Horace so often refers.
Seneca tells us that he was acquainted with the inmost thoughts of the family
of Augustus, and reports the language in which he consoled Livia upon the death
of her son Drusus (B.C. 9). He was succeeded by THEON of Alexandria, also a
Stoic, who took a special interest in physiology.
124. We know from Horace that in the time
of Augustus Stoic philosophers were found not only at the court, but also in
the public lecture-room, and at the street-corners. Such were Stertinius, of
whom the commentators say that he was the author of 120 books on Stoicism;
Crispinus, said to have been a bad poet; and Damasippus. In Horace’s amusing
sketches we find the Stoic as he appeared to the unconverted. He has sore eyes,
or else a troublesome cough; he presses his teaching upon his hearers
unreasonably and unseasonably. But in the reign of Tiberius we find these
popular lecturers held in very high esteem. One of the most eminent was
ATTALUS, of whom Seneca the philosopher gives us a glowing account. Seneca was
the first each day to besiege the door of his school, and the last to leave
through it. This philosopher must have exercised an extraordinary influence
over the young men of his time. In his mouth the paradox ‘the wise man is a
king’ seemed a modest statement; his pupils were half disposed to regard him as
a god. When he declaimed on the misery of human life, a deep pity for their
fellow-men fell upon them when he extolled poverty, they felt disposed to
renounce their wealth; when he recommended the simple life, they readily
abandoned the use of meat and wine, of unguents and of warm baths. Seneca
quotes from him in full an address on the vanity of wealth, which shews his
teaching to be very similar to that of the more famous Musonius. He attached a
special value to the discipline which hardships bring with them. He incurred
the dislike of Seianus, who defrauded him of his property and reduced him to
the position of a peasant.
125. Cornutus. Our attention is next attracted by L.
ANNAEUS CORNUTUS (circ. 20–66 A.D.), who was born in Africa, and entered the
house of the Annaei, presumably as a slave. There he received his freedom, and
became the teacher of the two poets Persius and Lucan; of these the former has
left us an attractive account of his personality. He wrote in Greek, and one of
his works, ‘On the Nature of the Gods,’ is still extant. This book is a
development of the system which we see followed by Cicero in the de Natura
deorum (based upon Posidonius), by which a reconciliation is effected
between the Stoic physics and the popular mythology. By means of etymology and
allegory, all that is incredible or offensive in the old legends of the gods is
metamorphosed into a rationalistic explanation of the phenomena of the
universe. Thus Zeus is the soul of the universe, because he is the cause of
life in all living things, Zeus being derived from ζῆν ‘live.’ Apollo is the
sun, and Artemis the moon: Prometheus the providence that rules in the
universe. Pan is the universe. Cronos consumes all his offspring except Zeus,
for time consumes all except what is eternal. Hera, the air (Ἥρα from ἀήρ) is
sister and wife of Zeus, because the elements of fire and air are intimately
associated. The popularity of such a treatise goes far to explain to us the
close connexion now becoming established between the Stoic philosophy and the
practices of Roman religion.
126. Seneca. Roughly contemporary with Annaeus
Cornutus, but perhaps rather older, was the famous Latin writer L. ANNAEUS
SENECA (circ. 4 B.C.–65 A.D.). Born in Corduba in Spain, he may have inherited
simple tastes from his provincial origin; but it was the eloquence of Attalus
which moved him to a deliberate choice of the philosophic life. Under this
influence he was at one time tempted to throw away his wealth; whilst the Pythagorean
philosopher Sotion induced him to become for a time a vegetarian. To the end of
his days he adhered to the ‘simple life’; he felt an aversion to wine, oysters,
and all luxurious food; he discarded hot baths and soft chairs as debilitating;
and of perfumes he would have only the best, that is, none at all. He was an
ardent lover of books, and appears to us as the last Roman who made a
systematic study of Stoicism in the original authorities, and thus grasped the
system in its full extent. He did not however claim, like his teacher Attalus,
to be a wise man; far from that, he laments that he is still in the deep waters
of wickedness. In an age when a governmental career was freely open to talent,
Seneca’s powers and industry carried him to high political station, and greatly
increased his inherited wealth. He played a part in the court of Claudius, and
in time became the tutor, and ultimately the minister, of Nero. He did not
possess the zeal of a reformer, and doubtless tolerated many an abuse, and often
bowed his head before power even when linked with tyranny. But if he did not
imitate the unbending stiffness of Cato, we have still no reason to credit the
personal calumnies that pursued him at court. Had his career as a whole been a
discredit to his philosophical profession, we may feel sure that Juvenal would
never have overlooked so sensational a contrast. For the last few years of his
life he resigned political power, that he might devote himself to what he
deemed a more important task, the exposition of the practical teaching of
Stoicism. Finally he was, or appeared to be, drawn into a plot against the
emperor, and was called upon in consequence to put an end to his life.
127. His style. The literary style of Seneca was
severely criticized by critics almost contemporary with him. Gellius tells us
that in his time it was by many not thought worth while to read his writings,
because the style was found to be vulgar, the matter characteristic of
half-educated men, the argument petty and exaggerated. Quintilian finds that
much of his work is admirable, but much also is tainted by a striving for cheap
effect and a want of solid knowledge; and he thinks him in no way comparable to
Cicero. This judgment is generally maintained in the world of modern scholarship,
with the result that Seneca’s works are not read in our schools and
universities, and are little known even to professional scholars. On the other
side we may set the extraordinary popularity of Seneca both in his own times
and in those of the Renascence. It is possible to argue that his style
represents the true tendency of the Latin language in his day, and that it is
in the direct line towards the modern style of French prose, generally
considered the best in the world. As regards his matter it is not possible to
deny that he repeats the same moral teaching many times in slightly altered form,
and that he seldom gives us a continuous or thorough treatment of any important
subject. His writings may well be compared with articles in our periodical literature
and the hebdomadal productions of our pulpits; they aim at immediate effect
rather than at the slow building up of ordered knowledge. Just for that reason
they admirably illustrate for us Stoicism in its practical application to daily
life; and the extraordinary popularity which they enjoyed for many centuries
seems to shew that they are in touch with deeply-rooted instincts of humanity.
128. His independence. Seneca claims to be an independent
thinker, only adopting the views of Stoic masters because their arguments
convince him. Still he does not use the liberty he claims to assert any new
principles, but only to deviate occasionally in the direction of popular views.
Thus he frequently adopts some dogma of Epicurus or some Cynic paradox to point
a moral, and appears unconscious of the deep-lying differences which keep these
schools apart from Stoicism; and only in reply to some challenge does he state
with any care the Stoic position. This is particularly the case with the
problem of wealth, which both Epicurean and Cynic disparage, but the true Stoic
is called upon to defend as a ‘thing of high degree.’ Yet when Seneca is called
upon to defend his own possession of wealth he states his case with admirable
clearness.
129. Weakening of Stoicism. It is perhaps partly due to his style
that it appears at times as if Seneca’s hold on Stoic doctrine was often weak.
He has no real belief in conviction and scientific knowledge: ‘if we try to be
exact everywhere, we shall need to keep silence; for there is something to be
said against most statements.’ For the detailed Stoic system of logic he feels
only contempt. In physics however his interest is keen, probably under the
influence of his favourite Posidonius. He sets forth with great clearness the
theory of tone (τόνος, intentio): he eloquently maintains the existence
of gods, abandoning the traditional proofs, and basing his conviction upon the
moral sense in man: he holds firmly to the doctrine of the conflagration. Still
we have constant reason to doubt whether these beliefs are linked together in
his mind by any consistent principle. His ethics are marked by a similar
weakness: the Socratic ‘strength and force’ is wanting, and is replaced by a
spirit of quietism and resignation. The important position which he has filled
in Roman politics awakens no enthusiasm in himself, nor does the greatness of the
Roman empire excite his admiration. His heart is in his books; to them he gives
up entirely his closing years. His wise man will not go out of the way to mix in
politics; rather he will carefully consider how he may avoid the dangers of
social strife. This enfeebled moral teaching is found also in the successors of
Seneca, and in modern literature is constantly quoted as true Stoic doctrine.
But though Seneca’s philosophy finds him many an excuse for his retirement, he
would have been a more faithful disciple of Zeno and Cleanthes if he had borne
the burden of public life to the end.
130. Musonius. To the same period as Seneca belongs
C. MUSONIUS RUFUS, in whom however we observe distinctly, what we may
conjecture had also been the case with Attalus, that ethical teaching is
becoming divorced from philosophical theory, and so the Cynic standpoint
approached. Musonius was a preacher with a singular impressiveness of address.
Speaking from the heart on matters of direct moral import, he won respect even
from those who were least willing to be guided by him. He disdained the
applause of his hearers, desiring instead to see each one tremble, blush,
exult, or stand bewildered according as the address affected him. ‘If you have
leisure to praise me,’ he said to his pupils, ‘I am speaking to no purpose.’
‘Accordingly,’ said one of them, ‘he used to speak in such a way that every one
who was sitting there supposed that some one had accused him before Rufus: he
so touched on what was doing, he so placed before the eyes every man’s faults.’
Amongst his pupils were Aulus Gellius the antiquarian, Epictetus, and a certain
Pollio who made a collection of his sayings (ἀπομνημονεύματα Μουσωνίου), of
which extracts have been preserved for us by Stobaeus. They consist of moral
maxims (χρεῖαι), such as ‘Live each day as if your last,’ ‘Nothing is more
pleasurable than temperance,’ and discourses or ‘diatribes’ (διατριβαί) dealing
with subjects such as discipline, endurance, marriage, obedience to parents,
and so forth. In elevation of standard these writings stand higher than those
of the early Stoics; and the influence of Musonius was so great that we may
almost regard him as a third founder of the philosophy.
131. His part in politics. In public life Musonius played a
conspicuous part; he was the Cato of his generation, trusted by all parties for
his absolute rectitude of character, and respected for his fearlessness; but he
was much less out of touch with the real conditions of the Roman world. When in
A.D. 62 Rubellius Plautus found himself unable to quiet Nero’s suspicions of
his loyalty, it was believed that Musonius encouraged him to await his end
calmly, rather than attempt rebellion. After the conspiracy of Piso, Musonius
was banished from Rome by Nero, together with most of the eminent personalities
of the capital. On Nero’s death he returned to Rome, and when the armies of
Vespasian and, Vitellius were fighting in the suburbs of the city, the senate
sent delegates to propose terms of peace. Musonius joined them, and ventured to
address the common soldiers, expatiating on the blessings of peace, and sternly
reproving them for carrying arms. He was roughly handled and forced to desist.
Tacitus speaks severely of this unseasonable display, of philosophy; and
certainly Rome would not have been the gainer if the issue had remained
undecided. But that such an attempt was possible in defiance of all military
discipline speaks much both for the courage of the speaker and for the respect
in which his profession was held. Musonius continued to play an honourable part
in public life during the reign of Vespasian, and retained the confidence of
the emperor even at a time when his advisers secured his assent to a measure
for expelling other philosophers from the capital.
132. Euphrates and Dio. In the reigns of Titus and his
successors pupils and converts of Musonius played not inconspicuous parts in
public life. Amongst them was one Euphrates, of Tyre or Epiphania (circ. 35–118
A.D.), who in his day won all hearts and convinced all judgments. ‘Some
persons,’ says Epictetus, one of his fellow-pupils, ‘having seen a philosopher,
and having heard one speak like Euphrates — and yet who can speak like him? —
wish to be philosophers themselves.’ Pliny made his acquaintance in his native
land, and was filled with affection for the man. He found his style dignified
and sublime but especially he noticed its sweetness, which attracted even his
opponents. His personal appearance was even more charming; he was tall,
handsome, and the proprietor of a long and venerable beard. His private life
was beyond reproach, and he was devoted to the education of his family of two
sons and one daughter. He appears to have completely achieved the
reconciliation of philosophy with worldly success.
More ascetic in temper was Dio of Prusa
(circ. 40–117 A.D.), who was first an opponent but afterwards a follower of
Musonius. A Stoic in theory, a Cynic in practice, he assumed the shabby cloak,
and wandered as a physician of souls. His eloquence succeeded in calming a mutiny
of soldiers which followed on the death of Domitian, and won for him from a
following generation the title of the ‘golden-mouthed.’ He was held in high
honour both by Nerva and by Trajan. A large number of his harangues are still
extant.
133. Epictetus. The influence of such teachers was at
any rate widespread, and if we suspect that Stoicism was already losing its
intensive force as it extended the sphere of its influence, in this it did but
obey what we shall see to be its own law of creative activity. We still have to
consider the two teachers who are of all the most famous and the most familiar;
not however because they most truly express the substance of Stoicism, but
because they have most deeply touched the feelings of humanity. These are
EPICTETUS of Hierapolis (circ. 50–130 A.D.) and Marcus Aurelius, who later
succeeded to the principate. The contrast between their positions has often
excited comment, since Epictetus was born a slave, and only obtained his
freedom in mature years, that is, after the death of Nero in 68 A.D. In reality
it is characteristic of the times that so many men of foreign and even servile
origin rose to positions of eminence and became the associates and teachers of
men of high official rank. In the great slave households, in particular, of
imperial Rome unequalled opportunities lay open to talent; the ‘educational
ladder’ was everywhere set up to encourage the youth to make the best of his
gifts. Further, just as young nobles were frequently enamoured of slave girls,
so far superior to the ladies of their own class in wit, gentleness of manners,
and loyalty in the face of all terrors and temptations; so their elders found a
delight in the company of the thoughtful and intellectual men who came to the
front through the competition of the slave schools. Thus the emperor Claudius
chose his ministers amongst his freedmen, provoking thereby the sneers of the
Roman aristocracy, but greatly advancing the good government of the Roman
empire; and it was Epaphroditus, himself a freedman of Nero, who sent the young
Epictetus to study at the feet of Musonius Rufus. Epictetus was a man of warm
feelings and clear head; his addresses, recorded for us by his hearer Arrian,
serve admirably to stimulate the domestic virtues and to keep alive the
religious spirit; but his teaching lacks the force which befits the training of
a statesman or a king. In logic he inclines too much to suspense of judgment,
in ethics to resignation. But he did not altogether miss the Socratic force: in
his youth he had gone about inquiring of his neighbours if their souls were in
good health, and even when they replied ‘What is this to you, my good man? Who
are you?’ he had persisted in giving trouble. Only when they raised their hands
and gave him blows had he recognised that there was something wanting in his
method. Other young philosophers, he felt, lacked this energy, and were men of
words, not deeds. Like other philosophers, he was expelled from Rome by
Domitian in A.D. 89, when he retired to Nicopolis; there he gave lectures till
the time of his death.
134. His Cynicism. Epictetus was a vigorous opponent of
the group of young philosophers who delighted to display their talent upon the
intricacies of the Stoic logic, and in his early youth he was taken to task by
his teacher Musonius for underrating this part of philosophy. He came however
to see the great importance of a thorough training in the methods of reasoning,
so that in practical life a man should distinguish the false from the true, as
he distinguishes good coins from bad. In physics he lays stress chiefly on
theology, and the ‘will of God’ fills a large place in his conception of the
government of the world. In his treatment of practical ethics he makes free use
of illustrations from the social life of his own day: he finds examples of
Socratic strength in the athlete and the gladiator and he makes it clear that
the true philosopher is not (as many believe the Stoics to hold) a man devoid
of natural feeling, but on the contrary affectionate and considerate in all the
relations of life. He has a special respect for the Cynic, who appears in his
lectures not as the representative of a differing philosophical system, but as
philanthropist, teacher, comforter, and missionary. There is indeed in the
addresses of Epictetus a complete fusion of Stoicism with Cynism; and we trace
in them pictures not only of the Cynic system as a whole, but also of
individual teachers like Antisthenes and Diogenes, profoundly different from
and much more human than the representations of them familiar through other
literature; they are in fact pictures of Cynic teachers passed down or
idealized by the members of their own sect. By their side stand the pictures of
Ulysses the sage and Heracles the purger of the world, as they must have been
described from generation to generation by Cynic orators to their hearers
amongst the poor and the unhappy.
135. Arrian. In the second century A.D. the
professed teachers of Stoicism must have been very numerous; with the death of
Domitian persecution had passed away. The philosophers were everywhere held in
high esteem, and in turn their whole influence was used in support of the
existing state of society and the official religion. In the early part of the
century FLAVIUS ARRIANUS (circ. 90–175 A.D.) is the most eminent of Stoics; and
it was noted that his relation to his teacher Epictetus much resembled that of
Xenophon to Socrates. To him we owe the publication of the ‘discourses’
(διατριβαί) which he heard Epictetus deliver. In A.D. 124, when lecturing at
Athens, he won the favour of the emperor Hadrian, and was appointed by him to
high public offices, in which he shewed himself a wise administrator and a
skilful, general; in A.D. 130 he received the consulship; and later he withdrew
to his native town of Nicomedia in Bithynia, where he filled a local priesthood
and devoted himself to the production of works on history and military tactics.
To Stoic doctrine he made no direct contribution.
Rusticus. After Arrian had given up the teaching
of philosophy for public life Q. JUNIUS RUSTICUS succeeded to the position he
left vacant. To him, amongst other teachers belonging to various philosophical
schools, was entrusted the education of the future emperor M. Aurelius, who
gives us the following picture of the teaching he received:
‘From Rusticus, I first conceived the
need of moral correction and amendment; renounced sophistic ambitions and
essays on philosophy, discourses provocative to virtue, or fancy portraitures
of the sage or the philanthropist; learned to eschew rhetoric and poetry and
fine language; not to wear full dress about the house, or other affectations of
the kind; in my letters to keep to the simplicity of his own, from Sinuessa, to
my mother to be encouraging and conciliatory towards any one who was offended
or out of temper, at the first offer of advances upon their side. He taught me
to read accurately, and not to be satisfied with vague general apprehension;
and not to give hasty assent to chatterers. He introduced me to the memoirs of
Epictetus, presenting me with a copy from his own stores.’
In Rusticus we may confidently trace a
successor of the school of Musonius and Epictetus.
136. Marcus Aurelius. M. AURELIUS ANTONINUS PIUS (121–180
A.D.) is commonly spoken of as ‘the philosopher upon the throne,’ but this
description may be misleading. Aurelius was in the first instance a Roman
prince; to the institutions of Rome and to his own position as their chief
representative he owed his chief allegiance. He was undoubtedly an apt pupil of
the courtly philosophers by whom he was surrounded; he deliberately chose
philosophy in preference to rhetoric, and of the various schools of philosophy
his judgment ranked Stoicism highest. He was fairly well instructed, but by no
means learned, in its doctrines; he adhered with sincerity, but without ardour,
to its practical precepts. In the leisure hours of a busy life it was his
comfort and his relaxation to express his musings in the form of philosophic
reflections. But his attitude towards Stoicism is always that of a judge rather
than that of an advocate; and much that the school received as convincing
reasoning he rejected as ingenious pleading. Hence a large part of Stoic
doctrine, and almost the whole of its detailed instruction, disappears from his
view; but we have the advantage that the last of the Stoic writers brings out
into clearer relief those features of this philosophy which could still rivet
attention in his own time, and which therefore form part of the last message of
the ancient world to the coming generations.
137. His belief in the cosmos. It follows at once from the judicial
attitude of Marcus Aurelius that he cannot countenance the Stoic claim to certainty
of knowledge. The objection of opponents that the wise man, who alone
(according to Stoic theory) possesses such knowledge, is nowhere to be found,
is sustained:
‘Things are so wrapped in veils, that
to gifted philosophers not a few all certitude seems unattainable. Nay to the
Stoics themselves such attainment seems precarious; and every act of
intellectual assent is fallible; for where is the infallible man?’
Yet Aurelius does not relapse into
scepticism. One doctrine at least is so convincing that he cannot for a moment
doubt it; it does after all shine forth as true by its own light. It is that
all things are ultimately one, and that man lives not in a chaos, but in a
cosmos:
‘All things intertwine one with
another, in a holy bond; scarce one thing is disconnected from another. In due
coordination they combine for one and the same order. For the world-order is
one made out of all things, and god is one pervading all, and being is one, and
law is one, even the common reason of all beings possessed of mind, and truth
is one: seeing that truth is the one perfecting of beings one in kind and
endowed with the same reason.’
From the belief in a cosmos he is led
on to a trust in Providence theoretically, because the doctrine of the chance
clashing of atoms is out of harmony with the belief in ultimate unity
practically, because in such a conviction only man can find a starting-point
for his own activity. The choice is to him all-important; either Fortune or
Reason is king, and claims allegiance from all.
‘Is it the portion assigned to you in
the universe, at which you chafe? Recall to mind the alternative — either a
foreseeing providence, or blind atoms — and all the abounding proofs that the
world is as it were a city.’
‘The world is either a welter of alternate
combination and dispersion, or a unity of order and providence. If the former,
why crave to linger on in such a random medley and confusion? why take thought
for anything except the eventual “dust to dust”? why vex myself? do what I
will, dispersion will overtake me. But on the other alternative I reverence, I
stand steadfast, I find heart in the power that disposes all.’
138. His piety. Aurelius makes full use of the Stoic
proofs of the existence of the gods, but it soon appears to us that his attachment
to the established religion was not in any way founded upon philosophical
arguments. In discussing this point he displays a certain heat which we have
not yet had occasion to notice:
‘If indeed they [the gods] take no
thought for anything at all — an impious creed — then let us have done with
sacrifice and prayer and oaths, and all other observances by which we own the
presence and the nearness of the gods.’
Finally, he breaks away altogether from
philosophy and rests his convictions on personal experience:
‘To those who press the question,
“Where have you seen the gods, whence your conviction of their existence, that
you worship them as you do?” I reply — first, they are visible even to the
bodily eye; secondly, neither have I set eyes upon my soul, and yet I do it
reverence. So it is with the gods; from my continual experience of their power,
I have the conviction that they exist, and yield respect.’
One further argument he held in
reserve; the sword, the cross, and the stake for the ‘atheists’ who refused to
be convinced. He was, after all, a king.
139. Ethics. In ethics, Aurelius states the main
principles of Stoicism with clearness; but he altogether ignores the Stoic
paradoxes, and does not trouble himself with any detailed theory of the virtues
and vices. Firmness of character is to him the supreme good.
‘Be like the headland, on which the
billows dash themselves continually but it stands fast, till about its base the
boiling breakers are lulled to rest. Say you, “How unfortunate for me that this
should have happened”? Nay rather, “How fortunate, that in spite of this, I own
no pang, uncrushed by the present, unterrified at the future!” The thing might
have happened to any one, but not every one could have endured it without a
pang.’
But in spite of these doctrines, we
trace throughout his pages a tinge of melancholy. Too apt a pupil of Epictetus,
he had learnt from him the principles of submission and resignation, but he had
not acquired the joyous confidence of an older period, through which the wise
man, even if a slave, felt himself a king. Rather, though a king, he felt
himself in truth a slave and a subject to the universe that was his master. He
would not go against the universal order, but he hardly felt the delight of
active cooperation. In this sense he represents to us the decadence of
Stoicism, or (to put it more correctly) Stoicism coloured by the decadence of
Rome.
140. Absorption of the soul. On the question of continued existence
after death Aurelius takes up and emphasizes the teaching of Epictetus,
ignoring the fact that other Stoic teachers, from Zeno to Seneca, had taken larger
views or at least allowed themselves an ampler language. There had been,
indeed, a change in the point of view. The early Stoics, occupied with the
question of physics, had insisted upon the indestructibility of substance, and
the reuniting of the ‘spirit’ (πνεῦμα) with the all-pervading spirit from which
it came at the beginning. The Roman school concerned itself more with the
question of individuality and personality. Accepting fully the principle that
that which is born must die, it comes to the definite conclusion that that
which we trace from the mother’s womb through infancy and youth, through
success and failure in life, through marriage and the family ties onwards to
weakness and dotage, must reach its end in death. The ‘I’ cannot survive the body.
The future existence of the soul, if such there be, is no longer (as with
Seneca) a matter of joyful expectation, but of complete indifference.
Epictetus had expressed this with
sufficient clearness:
‘Death is a change, not from the state
which now is to that which is not, but to that which is not now. Shall I then
no longer exist? You will not exist, but you will be something else, of which
the world now has need; for you also came into existence, not when you chose,
but when the world had need of you.’
Aurelius constantly repeats the
doctrine in varied forms:
‘You exist but as a part inherent in a
greater whole. You will vanish into that which gave you being; for rather, you
will be re-transmuted into the seminal and universal reason.’
‘Death put Alexander of Macedeon and
his stable boy on a par. Either they were received into the seminal principles
of the universe, or were alike dispersed into atoms.’
141. Preparation for death. The saddened outlook of Marcus
Aurelius upon life harmonizes well with the resignation with which he
contemplates a death, which for himself individually will be the end. Hence it
is that his reflections so often make the thought of death a guiding principle
of ethics he who has learnt to look forward calmly to his last act has learnt
thereby to abide patiently all the troubles which postpone it. Thus the last
message of the princely philosopher, as of his predecessor, is that men should
‘bear and forbear’:
‘Contemn not death, but give it
welcome; is not death too a part of nature’s will? As youth and age, as growth
and prime, as the coming of teeth and beard and grey hairs, as begetting and
pregnancy and the bearing of children, as all other operations of nature, even
such is dissolution. Therefore the rational man should not treat death with
impatience or repugnance or disdain, but wait for it as one of nature’s
operations.’
‘O for the soul ready, when the hour of
dissolution comes, for extinction or dispersion or survival! But such readiness
must proceed from inward conviction.’
‘Serenely you await the end, be it
extinction or transmutation. While the hour yet tarries, what help is there?
what, but to reverence and bless the gods, to do good to men, “to endure and to
refrain”? and of all that lies outside the bounds of flesh and breath, to
remember that it is not yours, nor in your power.’
142. His yearnings. Aurelius was no teacher of Stoicism in
his time: his thoughts are addressed to himself alone. But the happy accident
that has preserved this work, which for nine centuries was lost to sight,
enables us to obtain a view of this philosophy from which otherwise we should
have been shut out. We do not go to Aurelius to learn what Stoic doctrine was;
this is taken for granted throughout the book but we can see here how it
affected a man in whom the intellectual outlook was after all foreshortened by
sympathies and yearnings which had grown up in his nature. The traditional criticism
of the school as being harsh, unsympathetic, unfeeling, breaks to pieces as we
read these ‘thoughts’; rather we find an excess of emotion, a surrender to
human weakness. A study of Stoicism based on the works of Aurelius alone would
indeed give us but a onesided picture; but a study in which they were omitted
would certainly lack completeness. He is also our last authority. In the
centuries which succeeded, other waves of philosophic thought washed over
Stoicism, and contended in turn with more than one religion which pressed in
from the East. Yet for a long time to come Stoic principles were faithfully inculcated
in thousands of Roman homes, and young men taught in childhood to model their
behaviour upon the example of Zeno, Cleanthes, and Epictetus formed the salt of
the Roman world. If in riper years they joined, in ever increasing numbers, the
Christian church, they brought with them something which the world could not
afford to lose.
CHAPTER
VI.
OF REASON AND SPEECH.
OF REASON AND SPEECH.
143. Parts of philosophy. The history of Greek philosophy, even
before the time of Zeno, leads naturally to its division into the three parts
of logic, physics, and ethics. The Ionic philosophers had chiefly occupied
themselves with the nature and history of the universe, that is, with the
problems of physics. The sophists were greatly concerned with questions as to
the validity of human knowledge, that is, with logic. Socrates shared this
interest, but attached greater importance to the discussion of moral
activities, that is, to ethics. It is however not clear when a formal division
into these three parts was first made. Cicero attributes it to the immediate
followers of Plato in the Academic school; others assign it definitely to
Xenocrates. The Peripatetics and Stoics both adopted the division, but whereas
the former assigned to Logic an inferior position, making it an introduction to
philosophy, the Stoics insist that it is a part of philosophy itself; and that
of the three parts it comes first in the order of study, ‘as in the measuring
of corn we place first the examination of the measure.’ It must not however be
thought that the three parts of philosophy can be separately treated, for they
are intertwined; so that in treating of Logic we shall constantly have need to
assume a general knowledge of Stoic views both on physics and ethics. Logic is
subdivided into ‘dialectic,’ which deals with reasoning, and ‘rhetoric,’ the
art of speech. The relation between reason and speech was in ancient times, as
now, a matter of perplexity; but it may be taken as a fundamental position of
Stoicism that the two should always be in agreement.
144. Knowledge is attainable. Stoicism, as one of the positive and
dogmatic schools, assumes that knowledge is attainable. Since this is the very
point on which Socrates never reached assurance, except on the one particular
that he himself knew nothing, it was a matter of primary importance to the
Stoics to make good this position; more especially since they held (this time
in agreement with Socrates) that virtue is but another form of knowledge. Yet
the Stoics could not agree with the Cynics, that true knowledge can be imparted
without a study of its method. Knowledge is, in their view, a high privilege
derived by man from his divine ancestry, and shared by him with the deity
alone: and the whole duty of man may be summed up by saying that he should keep
upright his reason. They therefore devoted themselves with special zeal to this
part of philosophy, and were accordingly nicknamed ‘the dialecticians.’ Their
aim in this was solely the ascertainment and imparting of truth; but the common
view that their style was in consequence harsh and repellent will be found to
need considerable qualification.
145. Are the senses true? The chief argument for the certainty
of knowledge is that we assume as much in the practical affairs of life; and
(as we have already seen) Aristo found it ridiculous that his Academic
neighbour should not even know who he was. Against it is the fact that men
frequently disagree even as to what they see, and commonly distinguish between
what is known to them and what ‘seems’ to be this or that. Hence Epictetus well
defines the function of dialectic as
‘a perception of the disagreement of
men with one another, and an inquiry into the cause of this disagreement; a
condemnation and distrust of that which only seems, and some kind of
investigation of that which seems, as to whether it rightly seems; and the
discovery of some rule (κανών).’
Of all kinds of knowledge that which
comes through the senses appears to the ordinary man most worthy of confidence,
and of the five senses that of sight seems to the philosopher the most divine.
In consequence, the whole controversy hinges on the question whether the eyes
can be trusted. The positivist argues that the evidence of sight is so plain
and unmistakeable that man, if he had the choice, could wish for no better informant.
The sceptic replies that nevertheless, if a straight oar be placed partly in
the water, it appears to the eyes to be bent; and that the feathers on a dove’s
neck, though really alike, appear to the eyes as many-coloured. To deal with
such questions we must examine closely the nature of sensation.
146. Process of sensation. The Stoics fancifully derive the word
αἴσθησις (‘sensation’) from εἴσθεσις (‘storage’); it is therefore, strictly
speaking, the process by which the mind is stored; but it is also, from an
opposite point of view, the process by which the mind reaches out towards an
external object. From the object (αἰσθητόν) proceed waves which strike upon the
sense-organ (αἰσθητήπιον); this impact is called a ‘sensation’ in a narrower
sense. At the same time there proceeds from the mind (which is the ruling part
or ‘principate’ of the soul), a ‘spirit’ or thrill which goes out to meet this
impact; and this spirit and its operation are also called ‘sensation.’ As a
result of the contact of these two waves, and simultaneously with it, there is
produced in the soul an effect like the imprint of a seal, and this imprint is
the φαντασία or ‘mind-picture.’ That the process may be sound, it is necessary
that the intellect be in a healthy state, and further that the organ of sense
be healthy, the object really there, and the place and the manner in accord.
But we must carefully distinguish between the single sensation and the
mind-picture. A flash of light, a cry, a touch, a smell, a thrill of pleasure
or pain, is always that which the senses declare it to be; here there is no
possibility of error; so understood ‘the sensations are always true.’ But if we
go in each case a step further; if we say ‘that is white,’ ‘this is sweet,’
‘this is musical,’ ‘this is fragrant,’ ‘that is rough,’ we are now dealing with
mind-pictures, not with ‘sensations’ in the strict sense. And as to the
mind-pictures we agree with the Academics that things are not always what they
seem; ‘of the mind-pictures some are true, some are false.’
147. The criterion of clearness. In order then that we may distinguish
the true mind-picture from the false, we have need of a ‘rule’ (κανών) or
‘criterion’ (κριτήριον). The true mind-picture is a stirring of the soul, which
reveals both what is taking place in the soul and the object which has caused
this: just as light reveals both itself and the objects that lie within its
range. On the other hand the false mind-picture is an empty twitching of a soul
which is not in a healthy condition; no real object corresponds to it, but to
that which appears to be an object corresponding to it we give the name
‘phantasm.’ When Orestes thinks he sees the Furies leaping upon him, though his
sister assures him that in real truth he sees nothing, the vision of the Furies
is a phantasm. The appearances of dreams are equally phantasms. Now a true
mind-picture differs from that of a phantasm by being clearer; or, in other
words, the distinctive note of a true mind-picture is its ‘clearness’
(ἐνάργεια, perspicuitas). Clearness then is a quality which attaches
itself to a true vision in a way in which it can never attach itself to a work
of phantasy. To this clearness the mind cannot but bow; it is therefore (so far
as our study has proceeded) the criterion of truth.
148. Assent. The mind-picture as such is not within
a man’s control but it rests with him to decide whether he will give it his
‘assent’ (συγκατάθεσις, adsensio or adsensus). This assent is
therefore an act of the soul, in its capacity as will; and can only be rightly
exercised by a soul properly strung, that is, possessed of due tension. Assent
wrongly given leads to ‘opinion’ (δόξα, opinio), and all wrong assent is
error or ‘sin’ (ἁμαρτόα, peccatum). This error may take place in two
directions, either by a hasty movement of the will (προπίπτειν), giving assent
to a picture which is not really clear; or by feebleness of will, which leads
to assent in a false direction (διαψεύδεσθαι). Even haste however is a form of
weakness, so that we may say that all opining is a weak form of assent. To
ensure a right assent due attention should be given to each of its parts it
includes (i) the intention of mastering the object (πρόθεσις); (ii) careful
attention directed to the object, or ‘application’ (ἐπιβολή); and (iii) assent
in the narrower sense. Apart from assent, three courses remain open: these are
(i) ‘quiescence’ (ἡσυχάζειν, quiescere): (ii) ‘suspense of judgment’
(ἐπέχειν, adsensum sustinere), which is a settled quiescence; and (iii)
negation.
149. Comprehension. Close upon assent follows
‘comprehension’ (κατάληψις, comprehensio): this is the ratification of
the assent given, the fixing irrevocably in the mind of the picture approved.
This picture now becomes a ‘comprehension-picture’ (καταληπτικὴ φαντασία), and
as such a unit of knowledge. We may understand thereby that the mind has
grasped the external object, and this is the plain meaning of Zeno’s simile; or
we may say that the object has gained a hold upon the mind, and has left its
stamp upon it. Both interpretations are consistent with Stoic doctrine: but the
former view, which represents the soul as active and masterful, undoubtedly
expresses the more adequately the meaning of the school. From this mutual grasp
there follows an important physical deduction. Since only like can grasp like,
the soul must be like the object, and the popular dualism of mind and matter is
(to this extent) at an end. Still this likeness is not complete; and the soul
in sensation does not grasp the object from every point of view, but only so
far as its own nature permits in each case. For this reason the trained
observer and the artist grasp far more of the object than the ordinary man.
150. From sensation to reason. The soul, having grasped single
mind-pictures, retains its hold upon them by memory; the frequent exercise of
which keeps each picture fresh and complete. As the air, when an orchestra is
performing, receives the impression of many sounds at the same time, and yet
retains the distinctive tone of each, so the soul by concurrent alterations of
its texture preserves its hold on the separate pictures it has once grasped.
Fresh operations of soul now supervene. First, from the comparison of many like
pictures, comes ‘experience’ (ἐμπειρία, experientia); out of other
comparisons, ‘similitude’ (ὁμοιότης), as ‘Socrates’ from his portrait; and
‘analogy’ (ἀναλογία, proportio), as ‘the centre of the earth’ from that
of other spheres; ‘transference’ (μετάθεσις, translatio), as ‘eyes in
the heart’; ‘composition’ (σύνθεσις, compositio), as ‘a Hippocentaur’;
‘opposition’ (ἐναντίωσις, transitio), as ‘death’ from life;
‘deprivation’ (κατὰ στέρησιν), as ‘a cripple.’ All these are based on the
general principle of likeness and unlikeness, and may be summed up under the
general heading of ‘reason’s work of comparison’ (collatio rationis), or
shortly, of reason (λόγος). Sensation shews us the present only; but reason
brings the past and the future within our view, and points out to us the
workings of cause and effect.
151. Preconceptions and Conceptions. With the mind-pictures (φαντασίαι, visa)
which are derived from sensation we may now contrast the ‘notions’ (ἔννοιαι, notiones
or intellegentiae) which are derived from the combination of sensation
and reasoning; the former correspond generally to ‘perceptions,’ the latter to
‘conceptions’ in the language of modern philosophy. But each of the Stoic terms
is also used in a wider sense which includes the other. The sensory pictures
are inscribed upon the mind as upon a blank sheet from birth upwards; in this
sense they may well be called ‘entries on the mind’ (ἔννοια from ἐν νῷ). On the
other hand the conceptions may be called ‘rational mind-pictures’ quite as much
as the sensory mind-pictures they need the prudent assent of the will before
they become ‘comprehensions,’ when they are once more units capable of entering
into further combinations and becoming part of scientific knowledge. If then for
the sake of clearness we use the modern terms, we may say that perceptions
correspond generally to individual objects which have a real existence, whilst
conceptions correspond to classes of things, which (according to the Stoics)
have no real existence in themselves, but only a sort of existence in our
minds. Thus the ‘ideas’ of Plato are all conceptions, subjectively but not
objectively existent. So far as our study has gone, all conceptions are based
on perceptions: therefore all the elements of knowledge either come from sense
and experience solely, or from sense and experience combined with reasoning;
and the most important reasoning process is that comparison of like perceptions
which in this philosophy takes the place of induction.
152. Preconceptions. But even if all ‘conceptions’ are
ultimately derived from ‘perceptions,’ it does not follow that in each
particular case the mind commences de novo to collect and shape its
material. On the contrary, it is clear that not only all practical life, but
also all philosophy, takes for granted a great many matters which are either
allowed by general consent, or at least assumed by the thinker; and these
matters are mostly of the nature of class-conceptions. If it is stated that
‘the consul entered Rome in a chariot drawn by four horses,’ we assume that the
ideas expressed by ‘consul,’ ‘chariot,’ ‘four,’ ‘horses,’ are matters of
general consent, and we may go on to assume that the person of the consul and
the locality called ‘Rome’ are also already known to the speaker and his
hearers. The general term in the post-Aristotelian writers for such legitimate
assumptions is ‘preconception’ (πρόληψις, anticipatio or praesumptio).
The precise meaning of this term (of which the invention is ascribed to
Epicurus) appears not to be always the same. Most commonly the ‘preconception’
is a general term or conception, and therefore to the Stoics it is one variety
of the ἔννοια; it is ‘a mental shaping, in accordance with man’s nature, of
things general’. All such preconceptions are foreshadowings of truth,
especially in so far as they correspond to the common judgment of mankind; and
the art of life consists in correctly applying these presumptions to the
particular circumstances with which each individual man has to deal. If the
preconceptions are rightly applied, they become clearer by use, and thus attain
the rank of true knowledge by a process of development or ‘unravelling’ (enodatio).
As to the nature of a preconception,
there is a great difference between Epicurus and the Stoics. Epicurus
identifies all the terms ‘preconception,’ ‘comprehension,’ ‘right opinion,’
‘conception,’ and ‘general notion,’ and maintains that each of these is nothing
but memory of a sensation frequently repeated; the Stoics however hold that
preconceptions are established by the mind, and (so far as they are common to
all men) by the universal reason. This difference is fundamental. Epicurus, as
a materialist in the modern sense, explains perception as a bodily function,
and ‘conceptions’ of every kind as mere echoes of such bodily functions. The
Stoics on the other hand recognise at each stage the activity of mind, and this
in increasing degree as we proceed to the higher levels of thought.
153. Notions of inner growth. We now approach the most critical
point in the Stoic theory of knowledge. Is it possible for man to possess
knowledge which is not derived, either directly or indirectly, through the
organs of sense? Such a question cannot be answered by any appeal to single
Stoic texts; it needs an appreciation of the whole philosophic outlook, and
upon it depend the most vital principles of the system. Let us then first
consider, on the supposition that such knowledge exists, what its nature is,
what its content, and how it is attained by individual men. Knowledge cut off
from the sense-organs is cut off from all human individuality; it is therefore
the expression of the common reason (κοινὸς λόγος), and its parts are ‘common
notions’ (κοιναὶ ἔννοιαι or προλήψεις), shared by gods and men, but by men only
so far as they are partakers of the divine nature. The principal content of
such knowledge is also clear; it includes the conception of what is morally
good, and the beliefs that gods exist and that the world is governed by their
providence. Lastly, as of all general conceptions, the rudiments or rough
outlines only of these beliefs are inborn in men, by virtue of their divine
ancestry; whence they are called ‘innate notions’ (ἔμφυτοι ἔννοιαι, insitae
notiones). These notions in their full development are not attainable by
children at all, nor by men till they attain to reason, that is, till they
become wise men.
154. ‘Proofs’ of inborn notions. The Stoics are naturally reluctant to
admit that doctrines which it is impious to deny are nevertheless unattainable
except by perfect wisdom; but their whole system points inevitably to this
conclusion. But there are intermediate stages between the rough inborn outlines
of these truths and their ripe completeness. As man grows in reason, he becomes
increasingly able to appreciate contributory truths, derived from the
combination of perception and reasoning, that is, by processes such as
‘analogy’ and ‘comparison,’ which point in the direction of the supreme
beliefs. In this sense, and (it is here suggested) in this sense only, can
there be ‘proofs’ (ἀποδείξεις) of these. Only in the crowning moment of that
probation which is described later on, at the moment of conversion, these
truths finally flash forth, stirred up indeed by secondary evidence, but really
rooted in the man’s deepest nature; they then reveal themselves to the soul
with an illuminating power which is all their own, but which carries with it
the most complete conviction. Ordinary men must meanwhile somehow make shift
with reflections or pale copies of this knowledge, to which however the name of
common or inborn notions can also be applied.
155. The inward touch. The list of ‘common notions’ is
doubtless not limited to the high philosophical principles which we have mentioned;
for instance it must include such mathematical principles as ‘two and two make
four,’ ‘a straight line is the shortest distance between two points,’ ‘a
three-sided figure has three angles,’ and so forth. With these however we have
little direct concern. Of more interest to us is another kind of perception
recognised by the Stoics as well as by other schools of philosophy, that called
the ‘inward touch’ (ἐντὸς ἁφή). By this the soul becomes aware of its own
workings, most obviously of its pleasure and pain. The doctrine of the ‘inward
touch’ is of great philosophical importance, for it breaks down the dualism of
subject and object, the barrier between the knowing and the known. Since these
are the same in the specific cases named, the door is open to the conclusion
that everywhere there is a kinship between the two, and that without this
knowledge would be without firm foundation. By this kinship we may also explain
the fact that direct communications are made by the deity to man, as by dreams,
oracles and augury.
156. Knowledge; the parts and the
whole. Thus it appears that
the elements of knowledge, according to the Stoics, are sensations,
perceptions, conceptions or notions, and general or inborn notions. As in the
other parts of the Stoic philosophy, we shall regard this fourfold division as
indicating generally the ground covered, and not as setting up definite lines
of demarcation. The same material may be analyzed from other points of view, as
for instance in the study of words, in which we shall find a division into
objects, statements, conditional statements, and syllogisms. The elements may
also be combined in various ways. A combination or ‘system’ (σύστημα) which is
directed towards a useful or pleasurable object, such as music or grammar, is
called an ‘art’ (τέχνη, ars); and arts are attainable by ordinary men.
The wise man, on the other hand, is not necessarily acquainted with the several
arts; his practice is to ‘keep quiet’ when matters are discussed which require
such special knowledge. The combination of all knowledge in one all-embracing
system is ‘science’ (ἐπιστέμη, scientia); the only science in the full
sense is philosophy; and in this system no part can be at variance with any
other part. The elements of knowledge also acquire the character of science,
when they are found to be parts of this compacted system, and therefore
incapable of coming into conflict with any other part; and in particular we
find the term ‘science’ predicated of comprehensions which are firmly
established and cannot be refuted by any argument. In the language of Zeno’s
simile, over the closed fist that grasps the object is placed the other hand,
keeping it with firmness and assurance in its place; or, to use a comparison
first suggested in ridicule of Stoicism, but which by the progress of architectural
skill has since then been made less damaging, science is like a firm and immoveable
building constructed upon a shifting foundation. Finally ordinary men can reach
comprehension, but only the wise man can attain to science.
157. The criterion reviewed. We revert to the difficult problem of
the criterion of truth, that is, the discovery of a rule by which the true can
be separated from the false. Our authorities differ greatly as to what the
Stoic criterion is; and this vacillation must have placed the Stoics at a great
disadvantage in their controversy with the Academics, who maintain that there
is no criterion. The most usual statement is that the ‘comprehensive
mind-picture’ (καταληπτικὴ φαντασία) is the criterion this view is expressly
attributed to Chrysippus, Antipater, and Apollodorus. As we have seen, the
meaning of this is that a true mind-picture can be distinguished from one that
is false by the note of clearness, and this general doctrine can be traced back
to Zeno. It appears at first sight to provide a criterion which can be applied
by the percipient at the moment when it is needed, and it was doubtless
intended to be a practical tool in this sense; but under the pressure of
criticism the Stoics were frequently compelled to modify it. They could not but
admit that in the case of dreams and drunken visions it is only at a later
moment that the lack of clearness can be appreciated; whereas on the other hand
a picture may be perfectly clear, and yet the percipient, because of some
prepossession, may not realize this. Such was the case when Hercules brought
Alcestis from the world below; her husband Admetus received a true mind-picture
of her, but put no confidence in it, because he knew her to be dead. It follows
that no mind-picture can be implicitly trusted for itself; for our sense organs
may be clouded, or our previous experience in conflict with it. If the
Academics urged that the sure note of clearness is not to be found in the
senses, the Stoics admitted as much when they now said that a true
comprehensive picture must come from a real object, when they added the words
that ‘no objection must arise’; thus really admitting that it must be not only
persuasive, but also such as no reasoning process can shake, and such as has
been examined from all sides. Thus they shifted the centre of certainty from
the single comprehension to the general field of science; they still held to it
in theory, but no longer maintained its practical application. For this too
they had the authority of the older masters. For we learn on the authority of
Posidonius that ‘some of the older Stoics’ held the true criterion to be ‘right
reason’ (ὀρθὸς λόγος), and this is equivalent to saying that only the deity and
the wise man possess the secret. In a loose sense any important part of the
Stoic theory of reason may be said to be a criterion; thus Chrysippus again
said that ‘the criteria are sensation and preconception,’ and Boethus set up
many criteria, as mind, sense, science, and (in practical matters) appetite.
158. General consent. Seeing that the full assurance of
truth is not at every moment attainable, it is necessary to be contented from
time to time with something less complete. Amongst such tests the ‘general
consent of mankind’ plays an important part, especially in connexion with the
dogma ‘that gods exist.’ We may indeed well believe that this criterion was not
originally suggested by revolutionary philosophers, but rather by conservative
advocates of an established religion and therefore we are not surprised to see
it emphasized first by Posidonius and afterwards by Seneca. General consent is
however by itself no proof of truth, but at most an indication of the presence
of a ‘common notion’ in its rough shape. If however we see that the ‘common
notion’ grows stronger and more clear every day, and if it is the more firmly
held as men approach the standard of wisdom, it becomes a strong support.
159. Probability the guide of life. From a very early period, as we have
already indicated, Stoic teachers accepted probability as the guide of life in
its details, being perhaps aided by the happy ambiguity of the expression
‘reasonableness’ (τὸ εὔλογον), which suggests formally the pursuit of reason,
but in practice is a justification of every course of which a plausible defence
can be brought forward. Ptolemy Philopator, we are told, jestingly put wax fruit
before Sphaerus at his table, and when Sphaerus tried to eat it cried out that
he was giving his assent to a false mind-picture. Sphaerus replied that he had
not assented to the picture ‘this is fruit,’ but only to the picture ‘this is
probably fruit.’ Antipater of Tarsus, when he explained that the very essence
of virtue lay in the choice of natural ends upon probable grounds, was felt to
be giving way to Carneades. Panaetius justified the maintaining of that which
is plausible by the advocate, and Cicero, whose own conscience was not at ease
in the matter, was glad enough to quote so respectable an authority on his own
behalf. In the Roman imperial period a growing spirit of humility and pessimism
led to a general disparagement of human knowledge, centring in attacks on the
trustworthiness of the senses. So Seneca speaks of the ‘usual weakness’ of the
sense of sight, and Marcus Aurelius feels that ‘the organs of sense are dim and
easily imposed upon.’ The older Stoics had admitted the frequent errors of the
senses, but they had been confident they could surmount this difficulty. Their
latest disciples had lost the courage to do this, and in consequence the
practice of ‘suspension of judgment,’ which before had been the exception,
became with them the rule. Nevertheless Epictetus, who alone amongst these
later Stoics was an ardent student of dialectics, held fast to the main
principle that certainty is attainable. ‘How indeed’ he said ‘perception is
effected, whether through the whole body or any part, perhaps I cannot explain,
for both opinions perplex me. But that you and I are not the same, I know with
perfect certainty.’
160. Grammar. Having now dealt with the theory of
knowledge, we may consider briefly the subordinate sciences (or rather ‘arts’)
of Grammar, Logic (in the narrower sense), and Style. Here we may leave the
technical divisions and sub-divisions of the Stoics; for these matters are
substantially independent of the main lines upon which the ancient philosophies
parted company, and have for us only a secondary and historical interest. The
Stoics distinguish five parts of speech: ‘name’ (ὄνομα, nomen), as
‘Diogenes’; ‘class-name’ (προσηγορία, appellatio), as ‘man, horse’;
‘verb’ (ῥῆμα, verbum); ‘conjunction’ (σύνδεσμος, coniunctio); and
‘article’ (ἄρθρον, articulus). The last they define naïvely as a little
word which is all ending, and serves to distinguish the cases and numbers. To
the list of the parts of speech Antipater added the ‘mixed part’ or participle
(μεσότης). The noun has four cases (πτώσεις), the ‘upright case’ (πτῶσις
εὐθεῖα, casus rectus; this is of course a contradiction in terms); and
the ‘oblique’ cases (πλάγιαι), that is the ‘class’ case (γενική), the ‘dative’
(δοτική), and the ‘effect’ case (αἰτιατική). The ῥῆμα or verb is identical with
the κατηγόρημα or ‘predicate,’ and may take the ‘active’ form (ὀρθά), the
‘passive’ (ὕπτια), or the ‘neuter’ (οὐδέτερα); some verbs also express action
and reaction, and are called ‘reflexive’ (ἀντιπεπονθότα). The Stoics also
distinguished the tenses. Time (χρόνος) being of three kinds, past
(παρῳχημένος), present (ἐνεστώς), and future (μέλλων), we have the following
tenses which are ‘definite’ (ὡρισμένοι): the ‘present imperfect’ (ἐνεστὼς
ἀτελής), the ‘past imperfect’ (παρῳχημένος ἀτελής), the ‘present perfect’
(ἐνεστὼς τέλειος), and the ‘past perfect’ (παρῳχημένος τέλειος); in addition to
these we have the ‘indefinite’ tenses, the future (μέλλον), and the past
indefinite, called simply indefinite (ἀόριστος).
161. Theories of Speech. So far we find in the Stoic system the
general framework of the grammar of the period, much of it adapted with
modifications from Aristotle. In some other details points of real grammatical
or philosophical interest are raised. Such is the controversy between ‘anomaly,’
the recognition of the individuality of each word in its flexion, and
‘analogy,’ in which the validity of the rules of declension and conjugation is
insisted upon. Two Stoic masters, Chrysippus and Crates of Mallos, took up the
cause of ‘anomaly.’ Further the Stoics held that all correct language exists by
nature (φύσει), and not by convention (θέσει), as Aristotle had maintained the
elements of language being imitations of natural sounds. Further, they held
that the natural relation between ‘things’ (σημαινόμενα, significata)
and the words that express them (σημαόνοντα, significantia) can
frequently be determined by etymology; for instance φωνή ‘voice’ is φῶς νοῦ
‘the mind’s lamp,’ αἰών ‘age’ is ἀεὶ ὄν ‘enduring for ever.’ Like Heraclitus
and Aristotle, the Stoics distinguished between ‘thought’ (λόγος ἐνδιάθετος, ratio)
and ‘speech’ (λόγος προφαρικός, oratio), which the Greek word λόγος
tends to confuse; thought is immaterial, but speech, as consisting of air in
motion, is body. Young children and animals do not possess real speech, but
only ‘a sort of speech.’
162. Propositions and Syllogisms. Words in combination form statements,
questions, wishes, syllogisms, and so forth; there is therefore no clear line
drawn between what we call syntax and logic respectively. Whenever we have a
complete combination of words expressing that which must either be false or
true, as ‘Hannibal was a Carthaginian,’ ‘Scipio destroyed Numantia,’ we call it
a ‘statement’ or ‘proposition’ (ἀξίωμα); for phrases of all kinds we have the
more general term ‘phrase’ (λεκτόν, id quod dicitur). Of special
interest is the conditional sentence (συνημμένον), which has two parts, the
conditional clause (ἡγούμενον) and the contingent clause (λῆγον). The
conditional or leading clause always contains a sign (σημεῖον), by means of
which we reach proof: thus in saying ‘if it is day, it is light’ we mean that
‘day’ is a sign of light. Proof is ‘speech on every subject gathering what is
less clear from that which is more clear.’ Its most important form is the
syllogism, of which Chrysippus recognises five forms:
- (i) if A, then B; but A, therefore B.
- (ii) if A, then B; but not B, therefore not A.
- (iii) not A and B together; but A, therefore not B.
- (iv) either A or B; but A, therefore not B.
- (v) either A or B; but not A, therefore B.
All these matters admit of endless
qualifications, subdivisions, and developments, and were therefore serviceable
to those Stoics who were before all things makers of books. Examples of Stoic
syllogisms have been given above.
163. Fallacies. Closely connected with the theory of
the syllogism is the enticing subject of the ‘resolution of fallacies’
(σοφισμάτων λύσις), which the Megarians had brought within the range of
philosophy. To this subject the Stoics gave much attention. The most famous
fallacy is that of the ‘heap’ (σωρίτης, acervus); ‘if two are few, so
are three; if three, then four; and so forth.’ In this Chrysippus took a
special interest; his reply was to keep still. Another is the ‘liar’
(ψευδόμενος, mentiens); ‘when a man says “I lie,” does he lie or not? if
he lies, he speaks the truth; if he speaks the truth, he lies.’ On this subject
Chrysippus wrote a treatise, which Epictetus thought not worth reading. Seneca
gives us examples of other fallacies, which also are verbal quibbles. Of an
altogether different kind are those problems in which the question of
determinism as opposed to moral choice is involved. Such is the ‘reaper,’ which
maintains ‘either you will reap or you will not reap; it is not correct to say
“perhaps you will reap.”’ Such again is the ‘master-argument’ of Diodorus the
Megarian, directly aimed against every moral philosophy. These difficulties we
shall discuss later as touching the supreme problems which are presented to the
human reason.
164. Definition. The scientific study of syllogisms and
fallacies promises at first sight to be a guide to truth and a way of escape
from error, but experience shews it nevertheless to be barren. It has however
an advantage in securing a careful statement of teaching, and for this purpose
was much used by Zeno and Chrysippus. The later members of the school realized
that this advantage could be more simply gained by the practice of careful
definition (ὅρος, definitio). Antipater thus defined definition itself:
‘definition is an expression which elaborates in detail without falling short
or going too far.’ He and all other Stoics of his time gave numerous
definitions of the most important terms used in the system, such as God, fate,
providence, the supreme good, virtue, and so forth; and these are of great
value in giving precision to their doctrine.
165. Style. In considering Style we first notice
the distinction between dialectic in the narrower sense, in which statements
are made in the shortest and most precise form, and rhetoric, in which they are
expanded at length. Zeno compared one to the closed fist, the other to the open
palm. Both Cleanthes and Chrysippus wrote upon rhetoric, and it appears to have
become a tradition to ridicule their teaching, chiefly on the ground of the
novel terms which the Stoics introduced, as προηγμέα, κοσμόπολις. But it is
exactly in these new-fangled words that we observe one of the chief aims of the
Stoic theory of style, namely the use of words which precisely and exclusively
correspond to the objects described (κυριολογόα, proprietas verborum),
and which therefore lead up to transparent clearness of speech (σαφήνεια, pellucida
oratio. To this clearness the study of grammar is contributory;
‘barbarisms’ (faults in spelling and pronunciation) must be avoided, with
proper help from the doctrines of ‘anomaly’ and ‘analogy’ for the Stoics learnt
in time that neither of these is exclusively true. Equally important is the
avoidance of ‘solecisms,’ or faults in syntax. In this way a pure use of
language (Ἑλληνισμός, Latinitas) is attained; this is largely based upon
the example of older writers, such as Homer in Greek, and Cato the elder in
Latin, but not to such an extent as to employ words not commonly intelligible.
But little more is needed; the Stoic will say what he has to say with ‘brevity’
(συντομία, brevitas); the graces of style will be represented by
‘becomingness’ (πρέπον decorum) and ‘neatness’ (κατασκευή), the latter
including euphony. These virtues of speech are sufficient for speaking well,
which is neither more nor less than speaking truthfully; for the Stoic needs
only to instruct his hearer, and will not lower himself either to amuse him or
to excite his emotions. Style has three varieties, according as it is employed
in the council, in the law-courts, or in praise of goodness and good men; in
the last there was no doubt greater room allowed for that expansiveness of
speech which the Stoics specially designated as ‘rhetoric.’
166. The Stoic orator. The ‘Stoic style’ was a severe
intellectual and moral discipline. The speaker was called upon under all
circumstances to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
He could hold back nothing from his audience, even though his words might be
offensive to their religious opinions, their patriotic feelings, or their sense
of decency; he could add no word which would touch their sympathies or kindle
their indignation in the direction he himself might wish. He had always before
his eyes the example of Socrates’ defence before the Athenian jury and its
result. The Stoic appeared before his audience as a brave, sane, and rather
rugged speaker, painfully ill-equipped in all those arts which the
circumstances demanded. Even the Stoics of the transition period, in spite of
their Academic leanings and their literary acquirements, made this impression
at Rome. Diogenes, who had himself done much to elaborate the theory of style,
was noted as a quiet and self-restrained speaker. The influence of Panaetius
may be traced in his friend Lucilius, who in his book on style is never tired
of ridiculing the artifices of rhetoricians. Then followed a succession of
these reserved speakers, which we shall trace in another chapter, leading up to
Cato of Utica, by far the best-known and the most ridiculed of them all.
It is not easy to form a fair judgment
of the merits of the Stoic style. It must be admitted that the works of
Chrysippus are not readable; but on the other hand Antipater, Panaetius,
Posidonius, Musonius Rufus, and Epictetus were all writers or speakers of great
attractiveness.
167. Paradox. In connexion with style we may call
attention to the important function of paradoxes (παράδοξα, inopinata),
that is, propositions contrary to common opinion. Since all philosophies
conflict with common opinion, they must necessarily include many paradoxes. The
chief Stoic paradoxes are those which were borrowed directly from the Cynic
school, and indirectly from the teaching of Socrates: and Cicero devotes a
special work to their defence. He includes the following: (i) that only what is
honourable is good; (ii) that virtue is sufficient for happiness (iii) that
right actions and; offences are equal (iv) that all foolish men are mad; (v)
that the wise man alone is free and every foolish man a slave; (vi) that the
wise man alone is rich. These of course include the very pith and marrow of
Stoic ethics; and the form is calculated to arrest the attention of the crowd
and to challenge defiantly its cherished opinions. The Stoics of literary taste
and social position usually shew some distaste for paradoxes, and prefer to
state their teaching in ways more obviously reasonable. But it should hardly be
necessary to explain that no paradox is complete in itself, but each needs to
be interpreted according to the principles of the school which propounds it. In
proportion as the doctrines of any school win general recognition, its
paradoxes tend to find ready acceptance, and may ultimately become truisms.
The treatment of myths as allegories
may also be considered as the use of a kind of paradox; this we shall find it
most convenient to discuss in connexion with Stoic views upon the nature of the
gods.
168. Dangers of logic. The study of logic is at first sight
dismal and repulsive; when progress has been made in it, it seems illuminating;
in the end it becomes so alluring, that the would-be philosopher may easily be
lost for ever in its mazes. The early Stoics had pressed this discipline upon
their pupils; those of the Roman period, themselves (with the exception of
Epictetus) weak dialecticians, never cease to warn their hearers against its
fascinations. So Seneca tells us that many logical inquiries have nothing to do
with real life; and that the older Stoics had wasted much time over them;
Epictetus complains that his hearers never get beyond the resolving of
syllogisms, and M. Aurelius thanks the gods that he never wasted his time in
this way.
169. Stoic and Academic logic. It was a favourite contention of
Cicero, adopted from his teacher Antiochus, that the Stoic dialectic was no
original system, but only a modification of the views of the old Academy. Such
a conclusion seems partly due to the fact that the Stoics of his own time had
largely borrowed from the Academic system in detail; and partly to the overlooking
by Antiochus of an essential difference of spirit between the two schools.
Plato is speculative, Zeno positive; Plato plays with a dozen theories, Zeno
consistently adheres to one. Plato ranks the mind high, Zeno the will; Plato
bases his system on the general concept, Zeno on the individual person or
object. It would seem that no contrast could be more complete. Nor does Zeno’s
theory agree with that of Epicurus. Both indeed are positive teachers, and hold
that the senses are messengers of truth. But here Epicurus stops, whilst Zeno
goes on. We have to understand rightly the functions and limitations of the
senses, or we shall quickly glide into error; we have also to learn that the
senses are but servants, and that the mind rules them as a monarch by divine
right, coordinating the messages they bring, shaping them according to its own
creative capacity, even adding to them from the material it has derived from
its source. The Stoic theory is in fact a bold survey of the results of the
reflection of the human mind upon its own operations it has, as we might
expect, many gaps, a good deal of overlapping description, and some
inconsistencies. To sceptical objections it is of course unable to give answers
which are logically satisfactory; but its general position proved acceptable to
men who sought in philosophy a guide to practical life.
170. Questions of temperament. In the approximation between Stoicism
and the Academy which characterizes the first century B.C., the Stoic logic
obtained in the end the upper hand; and the logic of the so-called ‘old
Academy’ founded by Antiochus is in all essentials that of the Stoics.
Nevertheless the objections urged against it by Cicero represent not only his
reason but also his sentiments. The positive system appears at its best in the
education of children; and even at the present day the theory of knowledge
which is tacitly adopted in schools is substantially that of the Stoics. It leads
to careful observation, earnest inquiry, and resolute choice; and thus lays the
foundation of solidity of character. But it must be admitted that it also works
in the direction of a certain roughness and harshness of disposition. Not only
is the Stoically-minded man lacking in sympathy for beliefs different from his
own, which he is bound to regard as both foolish and wicked; but he is also
blind to that whole side of the universe which cannot be reduced to syllogistic
shape. Thus we may account for the indifference or hostility with which most
Stoics regarded both literature and art. The Academic, on the other hand, even
if he lacked moral firmness and saw too clearly both sides of every question,
was saved by his critical powers from extreme assertions and harsh personal
judgments, and had a delicate appreciation of the finer shadings of life. Thus
behind the formal differences of the two schools there lies a difference of
character. We have long since learnt that the fundamental questions between the
two schools are incapable of solution by the human mind, and we can therefore
appreciate the one without condemning the other. In practical life each theory
has its appropriate sphere; but the Romans were hardly in the wrong when in
matters of doubt they leaned towards the Stoic side.
CHAPTER
VII.
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PHYSICS.
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PHYSICS.
171. Physics. Under the general heading of Physics
the ancients included a number of subjects which in modern times form
independent branches of philosophy. Cleanthes subdivided the subject into
Physics proper and Theology. Here it will be convenient to make a larger number
of subdivisions, so as to treat separately of (i) the Foundations of Physics,
generally called (after Aristotle’s treatise) ‘Metaphysics’; (ii) Physics
proper, that is, the account of the Universe and its history; (iii) the final
problems involved in the history of the Universe, such as its government by
Divine Providence, the Existence of Evil, Free-will, and Chance; (iv) the
problems of Religion, such as the existence of gods, their number, character,
and claims on mankind; and (v) the nature of Man, including the modern subjects
of Psychology and Physiology, and to some extent of Anthropology also, treated
by the Stoics as a Kingdom governed by the Soul. According to Stoic principles
these subjects cannot be separated one from the other, or from the other parts
of philosophy; and therefore in treating each one we shall, as before, assume a
general knowledge of all the others. The Stoics laid great stress upon the study
of Physics, as the only sound basis for a scientific rule of human conduct; and
some of them (beginning with Chrysippus), having especial regard to the
elevated dignity of the study of Theology, were disposed to rank this branch of
philosophy as the highest and last of its three principal divisions. We shall
however, in accordance with a view more generally held, reserve the last place
for Ethics.
172. Fundamental Conceptions. To the earlier Greek philosophers, as
we have already seen, it appeared that a single bold intuition was enough, or
almost enough, to discover a sufficient foundation upon which to construct a
reasoned account of all things. Thus the Ionic philosophers took up as such a
foundation one or more of the elements of air, fire, and water. But as soon as
these three, together with earth, were recognized as ‘elements’ existing side
by side, it became necessary to dig deeper, so as to secure a foundation for
these as well. Thus Democritus resolved all four into ‘atoms’ and ‘void’; his
theory was taken over by Epicurus, and remains to this day not only the most
popular solution of the problem, but also that which (till quite recently) was
tacitly assumed as the basis of all scientific investigation. Anaxagoras,
working on different lines, began his account of the universe with ‘mind’ on
the one hand and a primal conglomerate ‘matter’ on the other; a doctrine
evidently based upon the popular dualism of soul and body, and still the basis
of all transcendental philosophy and established religious conceptions. This
Aristotle varied by assuming rather an ‘active’ and a ‘passive’ principle,
force which works and matter upon which it works. Resides these conceptions
many others need to be considered, which if not absolutely fundamental, are
nevertheless matters of discussion in all philosophical schools, as those of
motion, space, time, soul, body, God, the universe, cause, effect, will and
necessity. In this way the original inquiry into the foundation of the universe
develops into a general study of fundamental conceptions; and it is at this
stage that it is taken over and dealt with by Stoicism, which adds to the list
certain conceptions on which it lays a special stress and to which it gives a
characteristic colour such are those of ‘body,’ ‘spirit,’ and ‘tone.’
173. The Stoic monism. The fact that the Stoics use from time
to time the language of other schools or of popular speculation does not
necessarily imply that this language is an adequate statement of their
doctrine; and we frequently find that the discussion of particular problems
seems to be based on dualisms, though these are in the end subordinated to
monistic statements. Thus in logic we have already noticed the sharp contrast
between the perceiving mind and the external object of perception (αἰσθητόν,
ὑπάρχον); nevertheless mind and object are ultimately declared to be akin. So
in particular the popular dualism of ‘soul’ and ‘body’ is often accepted by the
Stoics, and yet as steadily superseded by the paradox that ‘soul is body.’ The
reason given for this is that ‘body is that which acts and is acted upon’; and
this statement in the end overrides the Aristotelian distinction of force and
matter, active principle and passive principle. ‘Body,’ as conceived by the
Stoics, is the one ultimate element, the foundation and beginning of the
universe; it contains within itself the capacity of action, and nothing but
‘body’ has this capacity. Body, and nothing but body, exists in the true sense;
that certain other things have a quasi-existence (as we shall see later in this
chapter) is an embarrassment which only brings into clearer relief this
distinctive feature of the system. The Stoic ‘body,’ though it is also called
‘matter’ (ὕλη, materia), must not be confused with the ‘matter’ of
modern philosophy, which has derived from Aristotle the implication of
passivity; much more closely it corresponds with the ‘stuff’ by which modern
monistic philosophers denote the substratum of mind and body alike. To call
the. Stoics ‘materialists’ will generally prove misleading; it is the Epicurean
system, to which the Stoics were sharply opposed, which (as we have seen)
corresponds to modern materialism.
174. The nature of ‘body.’ The conception of ‘body’ therefore
replaces in the Stoic system the various elements which the Ionic philosophers
assumed as the basis of the universe, and combines both parts of such dualistic
elements as were assumed by Democritus, Anaxagoras and Aristotle. Since it is
the foundation of all.things it must be capable of taking very various shapes.
In logic we have met with it under the name of the ‘substratum’ (τὸ ὑπάρχον, id
quod est), but it none the less includes the ‘subject’ or feeling and
reasoning mind. In the universe as a whole it is ‘essence’ (οὐσόα, essentia);
in its parts it is ‘matter’ (ὕλη, silva) but it also appears, possessed
of intelligence, as the deity, and again is identified with ‘breath’ or
‘spirit,’ and through this with the human soul. Even in ethics it has its
place; for all causes are bodily, and not least ‘the good’ and the respective
virtues, all of which are bodies, for they act upon body; similarly the
emotions such as anger and melancholy, are of the nature of body.
175. Motion, space and time. The Stoic ‘body’ in all its
transformations is active and alert. It contains in itself the principle or
power of movement; for though we observe that one body is set in motion by
another, yet this could not be the case unless in the beginning there had been
a body which had movement of itself. As to the nature of the primal movement,
the Stoics agree with Anaximenes that it may be described as alternate rarefaction
and condensation. Rarefaction is a wave or ‘spirit’ spreading from the centre
to the extremities; condensation is a contrary movement from the extremities to
the centre. The extension of body is ‘space,’ which therefore does not exist of
itself, but only as a function of body. Where there is no body (and body is
limited), there is no space, but only the ‘boundless void’ beyond the universe;
of this we cannot say that it ‘exists’; rather it ‘not exists.’ Time also does
not exist ‘of itself, but only in the movement of body. Neither space nor time
existed before the universe, but have been all along bound up with it.
176. Body comprises life and thought. In almost every particular we find a
sharp contrast between the Stoic conception of ‘body’ and the Epicurean ‘atom.’
The atom is extremely small and entirely unchangeable; ‘body’ is immensely
large and in a high degree plastic. Atoms alternate with void but ‘body’
spreads continuously throughout the entire universe it can never be torn apart
or show a gap. Atoms move downwards in parallel straight lines; ‘body’ moves
from the centre to the circumference, and thence returns to the centre. Two
atoms can never occupy the same space; but ‘body’ everywhere moves through
body, penetrating it and combining with it throughout its whole extent. The
atom is a convenient hypothesis within the range of modern physical and
chemical science; the conception of ‘body’ gains force as we enter the region
of biology. For life also is a movement which proceeds from a warm centre (and
warmth is body rarefied), and extends towards a circumference which, isin
comparison gross and cold. Going further, we find that ‘body’ and its functions
are so interpreted as to provide a key to the activities of the human reason
and will.
177. Tone or tension. To the central conception of body are
attached in the Stoic system various supplementary conceptions, which serve to
bring into clearer view its nature and powers. Of these the most characteristic
is that of ‘tone’ or ‘strain’ (τόνος, intentio). This term appears
originally to have expressed muscular activity, and was next used by the Cynics
to denote that active condition of the soul which is the true end of life; ‘no
labour,’ said Diogenes, ‘is noble, unless its end is tone of soul.’ Although we
cannot trace the term ‘tone’ directly to Zeno, we find that he explains sleep
as a relaxation of the soul, substantially agreeing with later writers who call
it a ‘relaxation of the sensory tone around the soul.’ With Cleanthes the word
becomes fairly common, first in the ethical application, in which ‘tone’ is ‘a
shock of fire, which if it be strong enough to stir the soul to fulfil its
duties is called strength and force,’ and then in physics to explain the
unceasing activity of the universe, personified by Hercules in Stoic
allegorical theology. In later writers tone becomes constantly associated with
the ‘spirit’ or ‘thrill’ which explains both the unity and the movement of all
things, so that ‘tone of spirit’ or ‘thrill-tone’ (πνευματικὸς, intentio
spiritus) explains to us the operations of body and mind alike.
178. The seed power. Body however is not only active but
creative; there is inherent in it a power, which is that of the ‘seed’ (σπέμα, semen),
and which is most conspicuously illustrated in the seed of animals and plants.
It is the characteristic of seed that from a small beginning it developes a
great plan, and that this plan never changes. This plan or purpose is named by
the Stoics its ‘reason’ or ‘word’ (λόγος), and at this point Stoicism
incorporates the doctrine of the ‘Word’ or universal reason with which it became
acquainted through Heraclitus. The ‘Word’ or ‘seed-power’ (λόγος σπερματικκός)
of the universe is one; it is the primal fire in its work of creation; it is
Zeus the Creator who moulds gross matter into the things that are to be; it is
wisdom which plies matter as it will. But there are also in individual objects,
animate and inanimate, indestructible seed-powers, countless in number,
displayed alike in growth, procreation, and purpose; these seed-powers are, as
it were, spirits or deities, spread throughout the universe, everywhere
shaping, peopling, designing, multiplying; they are activities of fiery spirit
working through tension in its highest development. But the seed-power of the
universe comprehends in itself all the individual seed-powers; they are
begotten of it, and shall in the end return to it. Thus in the whole work of
creation and re-absorption we see the work of one Zeus, one divine Word, one
all-pervading spirit.
179. Cause. Closely akin to the theory of
‘seed-powers’ and the Word is that of ‘cause’ (αἰτία, causa). Aristotle
had already explained this term in connexion with cosmogony, laying down that,
in order that a universe may come into being, three ‘causes’ are required;
matter, without which nothing can be made; a workman, to make things; and the
form or shape, which is imposed on every work as on a statue. To these may be
added a fourth cause, the purpose of the work. Thus to produce a statue we need
the bronze, the artist, the design, and the fee. Grammatically these causes may
be expressed by the help of prepositions, as the ex quo, a quo, in
quo and propter quod. To this theory of multiple causes the Stoics
oppose the doctrine of a single ‘first cause,’ the maker of the universe. This
first cause can be none other than the primal creative fire in a new aspect;
equally it is the creative Word.
It seems well to translate here in full
the argument of Seneca on this point, for it stands almost alone as an example
of his powers in continuous exposition:
The Stoic dogma is that there is one cause
only, the maker. Aristotle holds that cause is threefold. ‘The first cause,’ he
says, ‘is the material itself, for without it nothing can be made. The second
cause is the maker. The third is the design, which is impressed on every single
work as on a statue;’ this Aristotle calls the εἶδος. I will now explain what
he means.
The bronze is the first cause of a
statue; for it could never have been made, had there not been stuff to be cast
or wrought into shape. The second cause is the sculptor; for the bronze could
never have been brought into the shape of a statue without the artist’s touch.
The third cause is the design; for the statue would not be called the
‘javelin-man’ or the ‘crowned king’ had not such a design been impressed upon
it.
There is besides a fourth cause, the
purpose. What is purpose? It is that which induced the sculptor to undertake
the work, the aim that he had in view. It may have been money, if he intended
to sell it; or glory, if he wished to make himself a name; or religious feeling,
if he proposed to present it to a temple. That for the sake of which a thing is
done is therefore also a cause; for you cannot think it right in making up a
list of causes to omit something, apart from which the thing would never have
been made.
Thus Aristotle postulates a
multiplicity of causes; but we maintain that the list is either too long or too
short.
If we hold that everything, apart from
which the thing would never have been made, is a cause of its making, then the
list is too short. We ought to reckon time as a cause, for nothing can be made
without time. We ought to reckon space as a cause; for if there is no room for
a thing to be made, it will certainly not be made. Movement too should be
placed in the list for without movement nothing can be produced or destroyed;
without movement there can be neither art nor change.
We Stoics look for a first and general
cause. Such a cause must be single, for the stuff of the universe is single. We
ask what that cause is, and reply that it is the creative reason, the deity.
The various causes in the list that has been made are not a series of
independent causes, but are all variations of a single cause, namely ‘the
maker.’
180. Causation and free-will. Although the ‘first cause’ and the
‘Word’ are thus formally identified, their associations in connexion with
cosmogony are very different. For whereas the ‘Word’ suggests reason and
purpose, and leads up to the dogma that the universe is governed by divine
providence, the term ‘cause’ suggests the linking of cause and effect by an
unending chain, the inevitable sequence of events which leaves no room for
effort or hope. These terms therefore point to the supreme problems of Fate and
divine Purpose, Determinism and Free-will, and as such will be discussed in a later
chapter. Here it is sufficient to note that the Stoics not only accept, but
insist upon the use of terms suggesting both points of view, and look therefore
beyond their immediate opposition to an ultimate reconciliation; and that the
importance attached to the doctrine of a ‘single and general cause’ by no means
excludes a multiplicity of individual causes depending upon it, and capable of
classification according to their relative importance.
181. The categories. Thus the conception of ‘body,’ so simple
to the plain man, becomes to the philosopher manifold and intricate. Its
interpretation is to some extent brought into harmony with common speech
through the doctrine of the ‘categories’ based upon Aristotle’s teaching. But
whereas Aristotle endeavoured in his categories to classify the various but
independent classes of existences, the Stoics considered the different aspects
in which the one primary body might be studied. The first two categories, those
of ‘substance’ (ὑποκείμενον) and of ‘quality’ (ποιόν), agree with those of
Aristotle, and clearly correspond to the grammatical categories of noun and
adjective. The third category is that of ‘disposition’ (πὼς ἔχον), as ‘lying
down’ or ‘standing.’ The fourth is that of ‘relative position’ (πρός τί πως ἔχον),
as ‘right’ and ‘left,’ ‘son’ and ‘father.’ Some of the categories are further
subdivided; but enough is here stated to shew the object of the analysis, which
in practice may have been useful in securing some completeness in the
discussion of particular conceptions. Of ‘substances’ the Stoics, like others,
say that they ‘exist,’ and are ‘bodies’; of qualities they boldly say the same.
But they do not consistently apply the same terms to disposition and relative
position; in this direction they are at last led, like other philosophers, to
speak of things which ‘do not exist.’ They could not take the modern view that
all such discussions are verbal entanglements, of which no solution is
possible, because they believed that there was a natural harmony between words
and things. We on the other hand shall be little inclined to follow their
analysis into its manifold details.
182. Substance. The analysis of the first two
categories, those of Substance and Quality, leads us at once to the profoundest
problems of Metaphysics; and even if we allow that the difficulty is primarily
grammatical, and resolves itself into a discussion of the functions of
Substantive and Adjective, it is none the less inextricably interwoven with all
our habits of thought. It would be unreasonable to expect from the Stoics
perfectly clear and consistent language on this point; they absorb into their
system much from popular philosophy, and much from the teaching of Aristotle in
particular. The view which is distinctively Stoic is that Substance and Quality
are both body, but in two different aspects. The terms ‘body’ and ‘substance’
refer to the same reality, but do not describe it with the same fulness. Yet
because the very word ‘substance’ (οὐσία) suggests existence, the Stoics are
drawn also to speak of ‘substance without quality’ (ἄποιος οὐσία), and seem to
identify it with a dead ‘matter’ (ὕλη), or ‘substratum’ (ὑποκείμενον), as
though life must be introduced into it from without. This is practically the
view of Aristotle, embodied in the phrase ‘matter without quality is
potentially body’; but just so far as terms of this kind imply a dualistic
explanation of the universe, they are not really reconcileable with the
fundamental principles of Stoicism, and they must therefore be understood with
reservations. It may often seem that the three terms ‘body,’ ‘substance,’
‘matter,’ are practically interchangeable, but they are of different rank. For
body exists eternally of itself; whereas substance and matter, except when
loosely used as equivalents of body, do not exist of themselves, but substance
always in association with quality, and matter always in association with
force. Further we may distinguish between ‘substance’ in general, or ‘first
matter,’ which is a ‘substratum’ (ὑποκείμενον) to the universe, and the
‘matter’ of particular things. The former never grows greater or less, the
latter may alter in either direction.
183. Quality. Quality (ποιότης τὸ ποιόν, qualitas),
constitutes the second category. It is defined by the Stoics as a difference in
a substance which cannot be detached from that substance, but makes it ‘such
and such,’ as for instance ‘sweet,’ ‘round,’ ‘red,’ ‘hot.’ Qualities, say the
Stoics, are bodies. This paradoxical statement may be understood in two ways;
first, in that qualities do not exist independently, but are aspects of ‘body’
which possesses quality; secondly, in that qualities are bodies in a secondary
sense. We may consider it evidence of the second point of view that language
describes the qualities by nouns, as ‘sweetness,’ ‘rotundity,’ ‘redness,’
‘heat’; and indeed it is not so long since our own chemists described heat as a
‘substance’ under the name of ‘caloric.’ This point of view is carried to an
extreme when the Stoics say ‘qualities are substances,’ thus throwing the first
two categories into one. Much stronger is the tendency towards Aristotle’s
views, so that as substance becomes identified with dead matter, quality is
explained as the movement, tension, or current which endows it with life. Hence
the Stoics say ‘the movement of rarefaction is the cause of quality’ ‘matter is
a dull substratum, qualities are spirits and air-like tensions’; ‘quality is a
spirit in a certain disposition’; ‘the air-current which keeps each thing
together is the cause of its quality.’ All these expressions must however be
interpreted in the light of the Stoic theory as a whole. Finally we notice
that, corresponding to the two kinds of substance, general and particular,
there are two kinds of quality, as shewn in the ‘generically qualified’ (κονῶς
ποιόν) and the ‘individually qualified’ (ἰδίως ποιόν); for instance, heat in
the universe and heat in particular objects.
184. Disposition. The third category is that of
‘disposition’ (πὼς ἔχοντα, res quodammodo se habens). It differs from
quality in its variableness; for a brave man is always brave, and fire is
always hot; but a man is sometimes standing, sometimes lying; fire is sometimes
lambent, sometimes still. Qualities therefore appear to correspond generally to
the συμβεβηκότα (coniuncta) of Epicurus, in that they can never be
separated from a body; and dispositions rather with the συμπτώματα (eventa),
which come and go. The third category appears to be used by the Stoics in a
very wide sense, and to correspond to several of the categories of Aristotle.
Disposition is attached to quality as quality is attached to substance; and
though, dispositions are not expressly termed bodies, yet we must consider them
to be, as the terms in the Greek and Latin sufficiently indicate, bodies in
particular aspects.
In the further applications of Stoic
theory disposition as defined above appears to be replaced in Greek by the term
ἕξις. But this term is used in two different senses. In the first place it is
the movement of rarefaction and condensation, by which a spirit or thrill
passes from the centre of an object to the extremities, and returns from the
extremities to the centre; in this sense it is translated in Latin by unitas,
and takes bodily form as an air-current. This force, when it requires a further
motive power in the direction of development, becomes the principle of growth
(φύσις, natura), and is displayed not only in the vegetable world, but
also in animals, as in particular in the hair and nails. Growth when it takes
to itself the further powers of sensation and impulse becomes soul (ψυχή, anima),
and is the distinctive mark of the animal world.
In a rather different sense ἕξις or
temporary condition is contrasted with διάθεσις or ‘permanent disposition.’ In
this sense the virtues are permanent dispositions of the soul, because virtue
is unchanging; the arts are temporary conditions. The virtues belong to the
wise man only, the arts to the ordinary man. This distinction however does not
hold its ground in the Roman period, the word habitus (representing ἕξις),
our ‘habit,’ being used in both senses. The virtues are bodies, being
dispositions of the soul which is bodily.
185. Relative position. The fourth category, that of ‘relative
position’ (τί πως ἔχον), appears to be of less importance than the others. Its
characteristic is that it may disappear without altering that to which it
belongs. Thus that which is on the right hand may cease to be so by the
disappearance of that which was on its left; a father may cease to be such on
the death of his son. It seems difficult to describe the fourth category as one
consisting of ‘body,’ but at least it is a function of body. Also it does not
appear that ‘relative position’ can be predicated of the universe as a whole;
it is peculiar to individual objects, but works towards their combination in a
larger whole. The fourth category has an important application in practical
ethics in the doctrine of daily duties, for these are largely determined by the
relative positions (σχέσεις) of the parties concerned: such are the duties of a
king to his people, a father to his son, a slave to his master.
186. Combination. Having fully considered bodies and
their relationships, we proceed to consider their combination. In ordinary
experience we meet with three kinds of combination; juxtaposition (παράθεσις),
as in a mixture of various kinds of grain; mixture (μῖξις), when solid bodies
are interfused, as fire and heat, or fusion (κρᾶσις), when fluids are
interfused, as wine poured into the sea; chemical mixture (σύγχυσις), when each
of the two bodies fused disappears. Of these the second in its most completed
form (κρᾶσις δι᾽ ὅλων, universa fusio) is of high importance. For in
this way we find that soul is fused with body, quality with substance, light
with air, God with the universe. Aristotle admits that there is this mixture
between substance and qualities; but as both of these are to the Stoics bodies,
and so too are the members of the other pairs quoted, the Stoic doctrine must
be summed up in the paradox ‘body moves through body.’ This also follows from
the Stoic doctrine that there is no void in the universe. Correspondingly the
sum total of body in its various aspects and mixtures completes the whole
(ὅλον), which is identical with the ‘world-order’ or ‘universe’ (κόσμος). It
seems likely that this important conception had been reached in very early
times by the Chaldaean astronomers; it was definitely propounded by Pythagoras,
had been taken up by Socrates and the Sophists, and was in Stoic times
generally accepted both in popular philosophy and in scientific investigation.
187. Quiddities. Up to this point the Stoic system has
been guided by a determined monism. Body is; that which is not body is not. Yet
in the end the Stoics feel compelled to speak of certain things which are not
body (ἀσώματα, incorporalia). In the first instance there is the void
beyond the universe. It is possible to dispute as to whether void may more
correctly be said to exist or not to exist; but at least it is a part of
nature, and we need some term like ‘the all’ (τὸ πᾶν) to include both the
universe and the void beyond. Next we have to deal with statements (λεκτά), and
mental conceptions of every kind, which stand as a class in contrast with the
real objects to which they may or may not respectively correspond. Lastly, the
Stoics included space and time, which they had previously explained as functions
of body, in the list of things not bodily. Having thus reached the two main
classes of ‘bodies,’ and ‘things not bodily,’ the monistic principle can only
be saved by creating a supreme class to include both. Let this then be called
the existent (τὸ ὄν, quod est), or, if it be objected that things
incorporeal do not exist, we may use the name ‘quiddities’ (τινά, quid).
In this way the monistic theory, though a little damaged in vitality, is again
set on its feet so far as the ingenious use of words can help.
188. Statements. The language of the Stoics with regard
to the phenomena of speech and thought is not always easy to follow, and
perhaps not altogether consistent. On the one hand, attaching high importance
to the reasoning power, they desire to include its operations in that which is
real and bodily. Thus the ‘mind-pictures’ and indeed all mental conceptions are
bodily and even ‘animal,’ in the sense that they are operations of body; and
truthfulness, ignorance, science and art are all bodies in the sense that they
are dispositions of the soul, which is bodily. But ‘phrases’ (λεκτά) are
definitely incorporeal, and with them appear to be ranked all mental
conceptions and general ideas; about these there is a question, not merely
whether they exist or not, but whether they may even be classed in the most
general class of all as ‘quiddities.’ Nor can we call general conceptions true
or false; though of some of them, as of Centaurs, giants, and the like, we may
say that they are formed by false mental processes. Finally statements are
either true or false, but are not to be called existent. The whole discussion
therefore ends with the broad distinction between the object, which may be real
or ‘existent,’ and the predication which may be ‘true’; and the attempt to
unite these two conceptions is not persisted in.
189. Force and matter. Although the Stoics aim consistently
at the monistic standard, they make frequent use of dualistic statements, some
of which we have already noticed. The Latin writers often contrast soul and
body from the standpoint of ethics; and we meet in all the Stoic writers, and
often in unguarded language, the favourite Aristotelian dualism of force and
matter, or (what comes to the same thing) the active and passive principles.
‘Zeno’ (we are told) ‘laid down that there are two principles in the universe,
the active and the passive. The passive is matter, or essence without quality;
the active is the Logos or deity within it.’ So also Cleanthes and Chrysippus
taught; and in the Roman period Seneca regarded this as a well-understood dogma
of the whole school. But even if direct evidence were lacking, the whole
bearing of the philosophy would shew that this dualism is also surmounted by an
ultimate monism. God and matter are alike body; they cannot exist the one apart
from the other. Of this Cicero, speaking for the Stoics, gives a proof; matter
could never have held together, without some force to bind it; nor force
without matter. We must not therefore be led by the term ‘principles’ (ἀρχαί, principia)
to think of force and matter in any other way than as two aspects of primary
body, separable as mental conceptions, inseparable as physical realities. The
interpretation is essentially the same, whether the Stoics speak of God and the
universe, matter and cause, body and tension, or substance and quality, and has
been already discussed with some fulness under these separate headings.
190. The elements. The position of the four ‘elements’
(στοιχεῖα, elementa) is similar; these are in the Stoic philosophy
sub-divisions of the two principles just discussed. For fire and air are of the
nature of cause and movement; water and earth of receptivity and passivity.
Body is therefore made up of the four elements mixed, or perhaps rather of the
elementary qualities of heat and cold, dry and wet, which they represent. The
doctrine of primary or elemental qualities had been taught before, first by
Anaximenes, then by Hippocrates the physician, and by Aristotle; the list of
the four elements is traced back to Empedocles. For Aristotle’s ‘fifth element’
Zeno found no use.
191. Conclusion. Such are the fundamental conceptions
or postulates with which the Stoics approach the problems of physics. It is not
necessary for our purpose to compare their merit with those of Aristotle, or to
set a value on the debt that Zeno and his successors owed to the founder of the
Peripatetic school. Still less do we suggest that the Stoics have perfectly
analyzed the contents of the universe, or have even produced an orderly and rounded
scheme. But at least it seems clear that their work shews intellectual power,
and that speculation is not necessarily less profound because it is pursued
with a practical aim. The founders of the Stoic philosophy had a wide reach;
they took all knowledge to be their province; and they worked persistently
towards the harmonization of all its parts.
CHAPTER
VIII.
THE UNIVERSE.
THE UNIVERSE.
192. Study of the heavens. In including in their system the study
of the physical study of the universe the Stoics broke daringly with Socrates
ancd his faithful followers the Cynics. These had joined with the ignorant and
the prejudiced in ridiculing those whose eyes were always turned up towards the
sky, whilst they saw nothing of things that were nearer at hand and concerned them
more closely. But it was not for nothing that the most highly civilised nations
of antiquity, Egyptians, Chaldaeans, and Babylonians, had studied the starry
heavens, mapped out the constellations, measured the paths of the wandering
stars, predicted eclipses, reckoned with the tides, the seasons, and the winds;
with the result that their successors defied the common opinion by declaring
the earth to be a sphere, and to hold inhabitants whom they called Antipodes,
because they walk with their feet turned up towards ours. All this body of
knowledge, called generically the knowledge of the sky (though it included the
whole physical geography of the earth), had impressed and fascinated the
Eastern world. It seemed that as the eyes were raised to the sky, so the mind
of man was elevated and made ampler and nobler, leaving behind it the petty
contentions and rivalries of common life; and further that true knowledge had
surely been reached, when the positions of the heavenly bodies and the eclipses
of sun and moon could be predicted so long before with unfailing accuracy.
These feelings are now commonplaces of literature, and were fully shared by the
Stoics. ‘Is not the sun,’ says Seneca, ‘worthy of our gaze, the moon of our
regard? When the sky displays its fires at night, and countless stars flash
forth, who is not absorbed in contemplation of them? They glide past in their
company, concealing swift motion under the outward appearance of immobility. We
comprehend the movements of a few of them, but the greater number are beyond
our ken. Their dignity fills all our thoughts.’ In the golden age which
preceded our iron civilisation ‘men lay at nights in the open fields, and
watched the glorious spectacle of the heavens. It was their delight to note the
stars that sank in one quarter and rose in another. The universe swept round
them, performing its magnificent task in silence.’ ‘Their order never changes,
spring and autumn, winter and summer succeed according to fixed laws.’ And in
the same tone writes the Stoic poet: ‘unshaken the lights of heaven ever move
onwards in their proper orbit.’ The emotion roused in the Stoic by the
contemplation of the sky was thus identical with that expressed in Judaic
poetry by the ‘Song of the Three Holy Children,’ and in more modern times by
Addison’s famous hymn.
193. The world-order. The phenomena of earth and heaven
combined, in the general opinion of intelligent men, to show the existence of a
‘world-order’ or ‘universe.’ The Stoics accepted this conception in their
physics from Heraclitus, who had declared that ‘neither god nor man created
this world-order,’ as in their ethics from Diogenes, the ‘citizen of the
universe.’ They therefore needed only to adjust an established notion to their
own physical postulates. We observe at once that the very conception of an
ordered whole differentiates that whole from the absolute totality of all
things. The universe is indeed on the one hand identified with the substance of
all things (οὐσία τῶν ὅλων), but only as a thing made individual by the
possession of quality (ἰδίως ποιόν), and necessarily one. It is self-created;
and it may therefore be identified with its creator, the deity; it also
includes all that is bodily; but outside there remains the boundless void. It
is therefore defined by Chrysippus as ‘the combination of heaven and earth and
all natures that are in them,’ or alternatively as ‘the combination of gods and
men and all that is created for their sake.’
194. Its position. The Stoic conception of the universe
is therefore that of a continuous body, having a definite outline, and
stationed in the boundless void. That the universe has shape the Stoics deduce
from its having ‘nature’ (φύσις), that is, the principle of growth, displayed
in the symmetry of its parts; and its shape is the perfect shape of a sphere.
Within this sphere all things tend towards the middle; and we use the terms
‘down’ meaning ‘towards the middle,’ and ‘up’ meaning thereby from the middle.
The Peripatetics are therefore needlessly alarmed, when they tell us that our
universe will fall down, if it stands in the void; for, first, there is no ‘up’
or ‘down’ outside the universe; and, secondly, the universe possesses ‘unity’
(ἕξις) which keeps it together. And here we see the folly of Epicurus, who says
that the atoms move downwards from eternity in the boundless void; for there is
no such thing as ‘downwards’ in that which is unlimited. Further, the universe
is divided into two parts, the earth (with the water and the air surrounding
it) which is stable in the middle, and the sky or aether which revolves around
it.
195. The heliocentric theory. Thus early in their theory the Stoics
were led to make two assertions on questions of scientific fact, in which they
opposed the best scientific opinion of their own time. For many authorities
held that the earth revolved on its axis, and that the revolution of the sky
was only apparent. Such were HICETAS of Syracuse, a Pythagorean philosopher,
whose views were quoted with approval by Theophrastus, and later ECPHANTUS the
Pythagorean, and HERACLIDES of Pontus. From the point of view of astronomical
science this view seemed well worthy of consideration, as Seneca in particular
emphasizes. Other astronomers had gone further, declaring that the sun lay in
the centre, and that the earth and other planets revolved round it.
Theophrastus stated that Plato himself in his old age had felt regret that he
had wrongly placed the earth in the centre of the universe; and the
heliocentric view was put forward tentatively by ARISTARCHUS of Samos, and
positively by the astronomer SELEUCUS, in connexion with the theory of the
earth’s rotation. For this Cleanthes had said that the Greeks should have put
Aristarchus on trial for impiety, as one who proposed to disturb ‘the hearth of
the universe.’ This outburst of persecuting zeal, anticipating so remarkably
the persecution of Galileo, was effective in preventing the spread of the novel
doctrine. Posidonius was a great astronomer, and recognised the heliocentric
doctrine as theoretically possible; indeed, as one who had himself constructed
an orrery, shewing the motion of all the planets, he must have been aware of
its superior simplicity. Nevertheless he opposed it vigorously on theological
grounds, and perhaps more than any other man was responsible for its being
pushed aside for some 1500 years. The precise ground of the objection is not
made very clear to us, and probably it was instinctive rather than reasoned. It
could hardly be deemed impious to place the sun, whom the Stoics acknowledged
as a deity, in the centre of the universe; but that the earth should be
reckoned merely as one of his attendant planets was humiliating to human
self-esteem, and jeopardised the doctrine of Providence, in accordance with
which the universe was created for the happiness of gods and men only.
196. The elements. Having determined that the earth is
the centre of the universe, and the sun above it, the way is clear to
incorporate in the system the doctrine of the four elements (στοιχεῖα, naturae),
which probably had its origin in a cruder form of physical speculation than the
doctrine of the heavenly bodies. As we have seen above, the elements are not
first principles of the Stoic physics, but hold an intermediate position
between the two principles of the active and the passive on the one hand, and
the organic and inorganic world on the other. Earth is the lowest of the
elements, and also the grossest; above it is placed water, then air, then fire;
and these are in constant interchange, earth turning to water, this into air,
and this into aether, and so again in return. By this interchange the unity of
the universe is maintained. The transition from one element to the next is not
abrupt, but gradual; the lowest part of the aether is akin to air; it is
therefore of no great importance whether we speak with Heraclitus of three
elements, or with Empedocles of four. The two grosser elements, earth and
water, tend by nature downwards and are passive; air and fire tend upwards and
are active. Zeno did not think it necessary to postulate a fifth element as the
substance of soul, for he held that fire was its substance.
197. Fire and breath. Fire, heat, and motion are ultimately
identical, and are the source of all life. Thus the elemental and primary fire
stands in contrast with the fire of domestic use; the one creates and
nourishes, the other destroys. It follows that fire, though it is one of the four
elements, has from its divine nature a primacy amongst the elements, which
corresponds to its lofty position in the universe; and the other elements in
turn all contain some proportion of fire. Thus although air has cold and
darkness as primary and essential qualities, nevertheless it cannot exist
without some share of warmth. Hence air also may be associated with life, and
it is possible to retain the popular term ‘spirit’ (πνεῦμα, spiritus)
for the principle of life. In the development of the Stoic philosophy we seldom
hear again of air in connexion with coldness; and between the ‘warm breath’ (anima
inflammata) and the primary fire there is hardly a distinction; we may even
say that ‘spirit’ has the highest possible tension.
198. God in the stone. Air on its downward path changes to
water. This change is described as due to loss of heat, and yet water too has
some heat and vitality. Even earth, the lowest and grossest of the elements,
contains a share of the divine heat; otherwise it could not feed living plants
and animals, much less send up exhalations with which to feed the sun and
stars. Thus we may say even of a stone that it has a part of the divinity in
it. Here then we see the reverse side of the so-called Stoic materialism. If it
is true that God is body, and that the soul is body, it is equally true that
even water, the damp and cold element, and earth, the dry and cold element, are
both penetrated by the divinity, by the creative fire without the operation of
which both would fall in an instant into nothingness.
199. The heavenly bodies. We return to the consideration of the
heavenly bodies. These are set in spheres of various diameter, all alike
revolving around the earth. The succession we find described in Plato’s Timaeus;
the moon is nearest to the earth, then comes the sun, then in order Venus,
Mercury, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. This theory was taken up by Aristotle and
after him by Eudoxus, from whom it passed to Aratus and Chrysippus. A tradition
derived from Chaldaean sources gave a different order, setting Venus and
Mercury nearer to the earth than the sun; and this order was accepted by the
middle Stoics, that is to say by Panaetius and Posidonius, the latter placing
Venus nearer to the earth, and therefore further from the sun, than Mercury.
The moon, like the earth, obtains her light from the sun, being crescent-shaped
when nearest to him, full-orbed when furthest away. Her distance from the earth
is two million stadia (250,000 miles) when she lies between the earth and the
sun she eclipses his light, but when she is on the side of the earth directly
away from the sun she is herself eclipsed. Her phases are explained by her
position relative to the sun. The sun is 60 millions of miles from the earth;
his diameter is 37 ½ times as large as that of the earth; he appears larger
when on the horizon because his rays are refracted through the thick
atmosphere. The planets, whether they revolve round the earth or the sun, are
falsely called ‘wandering stars,’ since their orbits have been fixed from all
eternity. The fixed stars revolve round the earth at such a distance that the
earth, when compared with it, is merely the central point. All the heavenly
bodies are, like the earth, of spherical form. Finally Seneca, in advance of
the school, declared the comets to be a regular part of the celestial world.
200. Cruder theories. Whilst the Stoics generally were in
sympathy with the best astronomical teaching of their time, they combined with
it many views based on much cruder forms of observation. Even Seneca thinks it
bold to suggest that the sun is not a little larger than the whole earth; and
it is commonly held that not only the sun and moon, but also the heavenly
bodies generally, feed upon moist exhalations from the Ocean. Cleanthes in
particular seems to have viewed the astronomers with suspicion. He alone
regarded the moon not as a sphere, but as a hemisphere with the flat side
turned towards us; the stars he considered to be conical. These views, very
probably derived from Heraclitus, seem to point to the conception of the sky or
aether as a single fixed fiery sphere, in which the heavenly bodies only differ
from the surrounding element by containing more closely packed masses of fiery
matter; a conception which harmonizes far more closely with the Stoic theory of
the elements than the doctrines which are astronomically more correct.
Cleanthes also explained that the sun could not venture to travel beyond his
solstitial positions, lest he should be out of reach of his terrestrial food.
And Cleanthes and Posidonius agree that the sun keeps within the ‘torrid zone’
of the sky, because beneath it flows the Ocean, from which the sun sucks up his
nutriment.
201. Deity of the stars. From the relation of the heavenly
bodies to the element of fire the Stoics draw the conclusion that they are
animated, reasoning, self-determined, and divine; in short, that they are gods.
This godhead pertains particularly to the sun. Of this doctrine Cleanthes is
especially the upholder, deeming that the sun is the ruling power in the
universe, as reason in man. It is not clear whether the Stoics derived their
theory of the divinity of the heavenly bodies from logical deduction, or
whether they were here incorporating some Eastern worship. In favour of the
latter point of view is the consideration that at this time the association of
Mithra with the sun was probably making some progress in the Persian religion,
and that the popular names of the seven days of the week, following the names
of the sun, moon, and five planets, must have been already current.
202. Deity of the universe. But in the Stoic system this doctrine
is overshadowed by the paradox that the universe itself is a rational animal,
possessed of free-will and divine. This is the teaching of all the masters of the
school, beginning with Zeno himself. It appeared to him to follow logically
from two principles, the first that the universe possesses a unity, the second
that the whole is greater than its parts. ‘There cannot be a sentient part of a
non-sentient whole. But the parts of the universe are sentient; therefore the
universe is sentient.’ ‘The rational is better than the non-rational. But
nothing is better than the universe; therefore the universe is rational.’ ‘The
universe is one’; we must not therefore think of it as of an army or a family,
which comes into a kind of existence merely through the juxtaposition of its
members. By the same reasoning the universe possesses divinity. Upon this
favourite Stoic text is based the frequent assertion of modern commentators
that the philosophy is pantheistic; but the more central position of Stoicism
is that the deity bears the same relation to the universe as a man’s soul to
his body, and the universe is therefore no more all divine than a man is all
soul. This view is expressed with great clearness by Varro, who says: ‘As a man
is called wise, being wise in mind, though he consists of mind and body; so the
world is called God from its soul, though it consists of soul and body.’ The
Stoics are however in strong conflict with the Epicureans and all philosophers
who hold that the world is fundamentally all matter, and that soul and mind are
developments from matter. ‘Nothing that is without mind can generate that which
possesses mind,’ says Cicero’s Stoic, in full opposition to modern popular
theories of evolution. Further, just as it may be questioned in the case of man
whether the soul is situated in the head or in the heart, so in the case of the
universe we may doubt whether its soul, or rather its ‘principate,’ is in the
sun, as Cleanthes held, or in the sky generally, as Chrysippus and Posidonius
maintain, or in the aether, as Antipater of Tyre taught.
203. The earth’s inhabitants. In the study of the universe we are
not called upon merely to consider the earth as a member of the celestial
company; we have to contemplate it as the home of beings of various ranks,
which also display to us the principle of orderly arrangement. Preeminent
amongst the inhabitants of the earth stands man, who is distinguished by being
the sole possessor of the faculty of reason, and in addition owns all those
capacities which are shewn in beings of lower rank. The nature of man
constitutes so large a part of philosophy that we must reserve its full
consideration for a special chapter; and must restrict ourselves here to
treating of lower beings, which fall into the three orders of animals, plants,
and inanimate beings. But since each of the higher orders possesses all the
properties of every order that stands lower, the study of the orders inferior
to man is also the study of a large part of human nature. The number and
classification of these orders are not to be treated mechanically. From one
point of view gods and men form one class, the rational, as opposed to every
kind of non-rational being. On the other hand, from the standpoint with which
we are rather concerned at this moment, gods, men, and animals are subdivisions
of the order of animate beings, below which stand the plants, and lower still
things without life. Animals, as the name indicates, possess life or soul; the
two lower orders possess something corresponding to soul, but lower in degree.
The general term which includes soul in the animal and that which corresponds
to it in the plants and in lifeless bodies is ‘spirit’ (πνεῦμα); soul therefore
is the highest type of ‘spirit.’
204. The animals have not reason. To the dumb animals the Stoics
consistently deny the faculty of reason; and this position must have seemed to
them self-evident, since the same word Logos expresses in the Greek both reason
and speech. In the Latin the point was no longer so clear; still the words
‘ratio’ and ‘oratio,’ if not identical, appeared to be connected by a natural
association. Since the animals then are necessarily unreasoning, those acts of
animals which appear to show reason must be explained in some other way. A dog
pursues a wild animal by its scent; it must therefore be admitted that in a way
the dog recognises that ‘this scent is the sign of the wild animal’; still he
is incapable of expressing this belief in the form of a correct syllogism. The
industry of the ant is disposed of in a more summary way; this animal shows a
‘restless helplessness,’ climbing up and down straws in meaningless industry;
many men however are no wiser. For their young the animals have a certain
feeling, yet their grief at losing them is comparatively shortlived. In spite,
however, of these limitations the animal world is one part of the wonders of
nature, and is deserving of our admiration; all animals have strong affection
for their young so long as these need their protection, and the dog deserves
special recognition both for his keen intelligence and for his loyalty towards
his master.
205. but a sort of reason. To define more accurately the nature
of animals we must to some extent anticipate the discussion of human nature in
a later chapter, which follows the same general lines: for in every point the
animals are like men, but inferior. They possess soul, but without reason; by
soul we here mean the twin powers of observation and of independent movement.
In a rough way the animals also possess a ruling part. Their power of
observation enables them to distinguish what is healthful to them from that
which is injurious; their power of movement shapes itself into pursuit of the
healthful and avoidance of the injurious. They possess also properties which
resemble the human feelings, such as anger, confidence, hope, fear; but they do
not in a strict sense possess the same feelings as men. As they cannot attain
to virtue, neither can they fall into vice.
206. Plant life. From the animals we pass to the
plants. These seem to have soul, because they live and die; yet they have not
soul in any strict sense of the word. It will therefore be better not to use
this word, but to speak of the ‘growth-power’ (φύσις). The governing part is
situated in the root. The growth of plants both in size and in strength is very
remarkable, inasmuch as little seeds, which at first find themselves place in
crevices, attain such power that they split huge rocks and destroy noble
monuments, thus illustrating what is meant by tone or tension; for it is a
spirit which starts from the governing part (the root) and spreads to the trunk
and branches, conveying a force equally strong to construct and to destroy.
From another point of view we may say that the seed contains the Logos or law
of the fully developed plant, for under no possible circumstances can any other
plant grow from that seed except the plant of its kind.
207. Cohesion. Lowest in the scale come inanimate
objects, such as stones. Yet even these have a property which corresponds to
soul, and which keeps them together in a particular otward form or shape; this
property we call ‘cohesion’ (ἕξις, unitas); like soul itself, it is a
spirit pervading the whole, and again it is the Logos of the whole. An external
force cannot impart this unity: so that the water contained in a glass is not
an ‘inanimate object’ in this sense. In this lowest grade of ‘spirit’ we read
in Stoicism the antithesis of the materialism of Epicurus, who postulates for
his ‘atoms’ the fundamental property of indivisibility, and can only account
for the coherence of the bodies formed from them by supplying them with an
elaborate system of ‘hooks and eyes,’ which was a frequent subject of derision
to his critics. Epicurus makes the indivisibility of the smallest thing his
starting-point, and from it constructs by degrees a compacted universe by
arithmetical combination; the Stoics start from the indivisibility of the great
whole, and working downwards explain its parts by a gradual shedding of
primitive force. God is in fact in the stone by virtue of his power of
universal penetration (κρᾶσις δι᾽ ὅλων).
208. Gradations of spirit. No existing thing can possess one of
the higher grades of spirit without also possessing all the lower. Stones
therefore have cohesion, plants growth and cohesion, animals soul growth and
cohesion; for these are not different qualities which can be combined by
addition, but appearances of the same fundamental quality in varying intensity.
Man clearly possesses cohesion, for he has an outward shape; there does not
however seem to be any part of him which has merely cohesion. But in the bones,
the nails, and the hair are found growth and cohesion only, and these parts
grow as the plants do. In the eyes, ears and nose, are sensation, as well as
growth and cohesion; that is, there is soul in the sense in which the animals
possess soul. It is the intelligence only which in man possesses soul in the
highest grade.
209. The conflagration. This universe, in spite of its
majesty, beauty and adaptation, in spite of its apparent equipoise and its
essential divinity, is destined to perish. ‘Where the parts are perishable, so
is the whole; but the parts of the universe are perishable, for they change one
into another; therefore the universe is perishable.’ Possibly this syllogism
would not have appeared so cogent to the Stoics, had they not long before
adopted from Heraclitus the impressive belief in the final conflagration, familiar
to us from its description in the ‘second epistle of Peter.’ According to this
theory, the interchange of the elements already described is not evenly balanced,
but the upward movement is slightly in excess. In the course of long ages,
therefore, all the water will have been converted into air and fire, and the
universe will become hot with flame. Then the earth and all upon it will become
exhausted for want of moisture, and the heavenly bodies themselves will lose
their vitality for want of the exhalations on which they feed. Rivers will
cease to flow, the earth will quake, great cities will be swallowed up, star
will collide with star. All living things will die, and even the souls of the
blest and the gods themselves will once more be absorbed in the fire, which
will thus regain its primitive and essential unity. Yet we may not say that the
universe dies, for it does not suffer the separation of soul from body.
210. Is the universe perishable? In connexion with the doctrine of the
conflagration the Stoics were called upon to take sides upon the universe
favourite philosophic problem whether the universe is perishable, as Democritus
and Epicurus hold, or imperishable, as the Peripatetics say. In replying to
this question, as in the theory as a whole, they relied on the authority of
Heraclitus. The word universe is used in two senses: there is an eternal
universe (namely that already described as the universal substance made
individual by the possession of quality), which persists throughout an unending
series of creations and conflagrations. In another sense the universe,
considered in relation to its present ordering, is perishable. Just in the same
way the word ‘city’ is used in two senses; and that which is a community of
citizens may endure, even though the collection of temples and houses also
called the ‘city’ is destroyed by fire.
211. Dissentient Stoics. The doctrine of the conflagration was
not maintained by all Stoic teachers with equal conviction. Zeno treated it
with fulness in his book ‘on the universe’; and Cleanthes and Chrysippus both
assert that the whole universe is destined to change into fire, returning to
that from which, as from a seed, it has sprung. In the transition period, owing
to the positive influence of Plato and Aristotle, and the critical acumen of
Carneades, many leading Stoics abandoned the theory. Posidonius however, though
a pupil of Panaetius (the most conspicuous of the doubters), was quite orthodox
on this subject; though he pays to his master the tribute of asserting that the
universe is the most permanent being imaginable, and that its existence will
continue through an immense and almost unlimited period of time. In the
Roman period the conflagration is not only an accepted dogma, but one that
makes a strong appeal to the feelings. For with the conflagration there comes
to an end the struggle of the evil against the good; and the Deity may at last
claim for himself a period of rest, during which he will contemplate with
calmness the history of the universe that has passed away, and plan for himself
a better one to follow.
212. The reconstruction. Upon the conflagration will follow the
reconstruction of the world (παλιγγενεσία, renovatio), which will lead
again to a conflagration; the period between one conflagration and the next
being termed a ‘great year’ (περίοδος, magnus annus). The conception of
the ‘great year’ was borrowed by the Stoics from the Pythagoreans, and leads us
back ultimately to astronomical calculations; for a great year is the period at
the end of which sun, moon and planets all return to their original stations.
The phenomena of the sky recur in each new period in the same way as before;
and hence we readily infer that all the phenomena of the universe, including
the lives of individuals, will recur and take their course again. Although this
doctrine appears only slightly connected with the general Stoic system, it was
an accepted part of it: and Seneca expresses an instinctive and probably
universal feeling when he says that few would willingly repeat their past
histories, if they knew they were so doing.
213. Creation. We have put off till the end of this
chapter the discussion of the Stoic theory of Creation, because it is in fact
one of the least defined parts of the system. According to the theory of the
great year creation is not a single work, but a recurring event; and therefore
in one sense the history of the universe has neither beginning nor end. It
would however be a mistake to suppose that this point of view was always
present to the minds of Stoic teachers. The question of the beginning of things
is of primary importance to every philosophy, and the Stoics approached it from
many points of view, popular, scientific, mythological and theological, and
gave a number of answers accordingly. To the orthodox Stoic all these answers
are ultimately one, though the language in which they are expressed differs
greatly; whilst the critic of Stoicism would assert that they are derived from
different sources and are fundamentally irreconcileable. Seneca suggests four
answers to the question ‘Who made the universe?’ It may be an omnipotent deity;
or the impersonal Logos; or the divine Spirit working in all things by tension;
or (lastly) destiny, that is, the unalterable succession of cause and result.
These answers we may examine in order.
214. The golden age. The view that ‘God made the world’ is
that of the theology which was now everywhere becoming popular; and it is
usually associated, even when expounded by Stoic teachers, with dualistic
views. Before the creation there existed a chaos, matter without shape, dark
and damp; the Deity formed a plan, and brought life order and light into the
mass: from ‘chaos’ it became ‘cosmos’. This deity is the same that is commonly
named Ζεύς or Jove, and is called the ‘father of gods and men.’ The universe so
created was at first happy and innocent, as is expressed in the tradition of
the Golden Age. Men lived together in societies, willingly obeying the wisest
and strongest of their number; none were tempted to wrong their neighbours.
They dwelt in natural grottos or in the stems of trees, and obtained
nourishment from tame animals and wild fruits. Little by little they made
progress in the arts, and learnt to build, to bake, and to make use of metals.
These views were especially developed by Posidonius, who believed that in the
Mysians of his day, who lived on milk and honey, and abstained from flesh-meat,
he could still trace the manners of this happy epoch. It seems probable that it
was from Posidonius, rather than from the Pythagoreans, that Varro derived his
picture of the Golden Age, which has become familiar to us in turn through the
version given by Ovid in his Metamorphoses.
215. Older Stoic theory. These conceptions however are only
familiar in the later forms of Stoicism. The teaching of the founders of
Stoicism is on this matter monistic, and is based upon the teaching of
Heraclitus that the world was in the beginning a. creative fire, which was
alike the creator and the material of creation. The process of creation
(διακόσμηοις) may be regarded as identical with that of the mutation of the
elements on the downward path; with the special note that when the stage of water
is reached the deity assumes the shape of the seed Logos (σπερματικὸς λόγος),
and begets in the first instance the four elements; then, from a combination of
these, trees and animals and all other things after their kind. Yet even this
statement is simplified if we regard the original fire as itself containing the
seed Logoi of all things that are to be created. To this is to be added that
all this is well ordered, as in a duly constituted state. From this point of
view the Cosmos is a Cosmopolis, and we reach the border of the investigations
which deal with the moral government of the universe, and the political
organization of mankind.
216. Summary. We may sum up the history of the
universe according to the Stoics somewhat in the following way. Body is neither
a burden on the soul nor its instrument, but all body is of itself instinct
with motion, warmth, and life, which are essentially the same. This motion is
not entirely that of contraction, or immobility would result; nor entirely that
of expansion, else the universe would be scattered into the far distance. One
of these motions constantly succeeds the other, as Heraclitus says ‘becoming
extinguished by measure, and catching light by measure’; as when a swimmer with
all his strength can just hold his own against the force of the stream, or a
bird straining its pinions appears to rest suspended in the air. At the
beginning of each world-period expansion or tension is supreme, and only the
world-soul exists. Next the fiery breath begins to cool, the opposing principle
of contraction asserts itself, the universe settles down and shrinks; the
aether passes into air, and air in its turn to water. All this while tension is
slackening, first in the centre, lastly even in the circumference yet the vital
force is not entirely quenched; beneath the covering of the waters lurks the
promise of a new world. The fire still unextinguished within works upon the
watery mass or chaos until it evolves from it the four elements as we know
them. On its outer edge where it meets the expansive aether, the water rarefies
until the belt of air is formed. All the while the outward and inward movements
persist particles of fire still pass into air, and thence into water and earth.
Earth still in turn yields to water, water to air, and air to fire (ὁδὸς ἄνω
κάτω). Thus by the interaction of conflicting tendencies an equilibrium
(ἰσονομία) is established, and the result is the apparent permanence of the
phenomenal world. Finally the upward movement becomes slightly preponderant, water
becomes absorbed in air and air transformed into fire, once more the
conflagration results and all the world passes into the fiery breath from which
it came.
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