Where, upon the face of the whole earth, shall we look for a monument of their industry, their ability, or their usefulness? With the exception of the stoical element in the Roman jurisprudence, which, doubtless, contributed much to the justness of that body of law, we know of no offspring of that philosophy, which deserves to awaken in us an enthusiastic emotion. If there be any exception in their favor, it is in their reach toward the doctrine of individual independence, to which the Cynics, from whom the Stoics derived all that was most meritorious in their system, appear to have made the most decided advance.* In this respect we have always thought Diogenes a sort of anachronism. He came into the world before his time, half made up. He wished to disengage man from his trappings, to free our judgment from all social illusions. This was putting an estimate upon the individual which the old Greek civilisation never recognized, and which was never elsewhere so practically preached before the coming of Christ. When the Canopian, with his lanthorn in his hand, wandered about the streets of Corinth, looking for an honest man, he sought what Christ sought, and what society is now striving, to create. But when, in striving to free himself from the trappings of conventionalism, he stripped himself naked-when, to show his independence of all artificial appetites, he permitted his person to become filthy, and an object of loathing -when, to protect himself against the undue influence of other minds, he stifled every emotion of generosity, rejected with insults the most courteous advances of his fellow-citizens, and trampled upon all the severe and delicate sentiments both of his own nature and of those who came in contact with him, he no longer presented an example of manhood, but rather the

impersonation of some very disgusting propensities, an unavailable and unseemly fragment of a man.

Such were some of the organic defects in the prevailing systems of philosophy at Rome, as they appear in the pages of their most enlightened expositors. One word farther touching those expositors, their deportment, and claims to consideration at the time when Lucian was erecting against their venerable fortifications the mighty enginery of his ridicule and his sound common sense.

But

It is true that all the dignity which the imperial patronage and encouragement of the Antonines could confer on philosophy was hers. True, the purest, yea, the purified doctrines of the Stoa, were publicly taught from the throne,† and colleges founded to diffuse them. True, the yet recent epic of Lucretius and the "Discourses" of Epictetus still kindled the enthusiasm of the Roman patriot and student. the kiss, which was expected to have protected, betrayed. The patronage, which was intended to foster the philosophical spirit of the nation, served rather to disguise ignorance and pretension in the uniform of the schools. The useful professions were deserted, while their incumbents were scrambling for the wealth and preferments which were distributed without the least discrimination from the hand of Adrian and his successors. "You would as soon fall into a ship," says Lucian, "and miss striking the timbers, as to miss of a philosopher now-a-days in our streets." Tradesmen, artisans, alike stupid and uneducated, deserted the trades in which they might have made themselves useful," adds the same author, " donned the mantle and wallet, and let their beards grow -a disgrace at once to the sect to which they attached themselves and the government that encouraged them."

66

Their conduct and success might well have suggested to Halifax one of his most excellent maxims, that "where the least useful part of the people have the most credit with the prince, men will conclude that the way to get everything is to be good for nothing."

So utterly degraded had their order become through indiscreet patronage, that with their ridiculous sophisms and syllogisms and fanciful conceits they anticipated the court fool of latter times, by prostituting themselves to the silliest buffoonery wherever such exhibitions were a consideration for countenance and protection.

"Ascribing to themselves the venerable name of virtue," says Lucian's Jupiter, who gets into a terrible rage about their infidelity," they strut about the world with elevated brows and pendulous beards, and hide the most despicable manners under a varnished outside: like tragic actors, of whom, when stripped of their vizors and embroidered robes, nothing remains but a miserable fellow, who, for seven drachms, is hired to play the hero. If you should ask one of these declaimers, What, then, I beseech you, are you good for yourself? What in all the world do you contribute to the general emolument?" If he should speak the truth, he must answer, Although I think it not necessary either to till the ground, or carry on trade, or to perform military service, or to make profession of any other art, yet I roar out upon all men, live in dirtiness, bathe in cold water, go barefoot in winter, and carp, like Momus, at all that other men do." "

·

gaged, he always finds some opportunity of reminding them of their infirmities. His most deliberate attacks upon philosophy are made in the "Convivial Entertainment of the Modern Lapithæ," the "Sale of the Philosophical Sects," and "Hermotimus." In the first, the author takes advantage of a nuptial entertainment, at which a number of philosophers representing different sects were present, to expose the unkempt and vulgar behaviour of these pedants of the schools when allowed access to the tables of the wealthy. They there find strong inducements to violate every principle of professional consistency, which, by the ingenuity of the writer, is made to lead to the most ridiculous exhibitions. This piece, though full of wit, humour, and real dramatic power, is inferior to The Sale of the Philosophical Sects, which is generally and justly considered one of Lucian's choicest productions. Jupiter, who appears to have been substantially of the same opinion as Cicero, that "Eos qui philosophia dant operam non arbitrari Deos esse," determines to sell them all off at a public auction. Mercury, who is the auctioneer, puts them up, and each philosopher, as he is called, states his value to the buyers, which gives Lucian a convenient opportunity of exposing all the absurdities of their re spective systems. The sale of Chrysippus is a favourable specimen :

"Chapman. Hola! draw nigh, good friend. I have an inclination to buy you; tell me who you are, and whether it does not grieve you to be sold and made a servant?

"Chrysippus. By no means, for these things are not in our power, and whatever is not in our power concerns us not.

"Chap. I understand you not.

"Chrys. What? Do you not understand the difference between acceptable and rejectable objects, (Пponyμera and ἀποπροηγμένα.)

"Chap. Still less.

"Chrys. No wonder, because you are not accustomed to our technical terms, and have not a cataleptic imagination. Whoever has taken the pains to study our logic fundamentally, knows not only that,

† Icaro Menippus. Vol. ii., p. 139.

Ibid., p. 140.

but likewise what a great and important difference subsists between symbana and parasymbana.

"Chap. In the name of all philosophy, be so good as to explain to me what sort of things these are. According to the bare sound of the words, I am persuaded they must be something surprising.

"Chrys. Cheerfully. Suppose somebody having a lame leg should stumble against a stone and hurt himself, his lameness would be a symbana, and the hurt on the lame leg he would get additionally as a parasymbana.

"Chap. This I call being very ingenious. But what else can you do?

"Chrys. I can make speech-traps, in which I catch those who talk with me, and shut their mouths as completely as if I put a muzzle on them. This stratagem, my friend, is the far-famed syllogism.

"Chap. By the great Hercules, that must be a powerful stratagem truly. "Chrys. You shall immediately see a specimen of it. Have you a son? "Chap. Well, what if I had? "Chap. Suppose a crocodile spying the boy as he walked near the Nile, should dart out of the river and seize him, and then should promise to restore your child, if you could guess whether he would restore him or not, what would you say to

him?

"Chap. That is a difficult question! I fear I should not get the boy again, whether I said yes or no. For heaven's sake do you answer for me, and rescue the lad before the crocodile has devoured

him.

Chrys. Do not make yourself uneasy on that account. I will teach you many

more stupendous things.

"Chap. As for example? "Chrys. The reaper and the hornet; but, above all, the electra and the hooded. "Chap. And what may be a hooded and an electra ?

"Chrys. The electra is no other than that famous daughter of Agamemnon, who at the very same time knew and knew not; for when her brother Orestes stood,

as yet unknown, before her, she knew, indeed, that Orestes was her brother, but she knew not that the man standing before her was Orestes. Now I will likewise teach you the veiled. It is a most amazing syllogism. Answer me directly, do you know your father?

"Chap. I should think so.

"Chrys. If I should now produce to you a hooded man, and ask you, do you know him? What would you answer? "Chap. That I know him not. "Chrys. Ridiculous! The hooded man was precisely your father. As you knew him not, it is clear that you do not know your own father."*

Highly as we admire the spirit and humor of this whole satire, we do not think it, nor any other of the produc tions of Lucian, inspires so much confidence in his judgment, or so much faith in his purposes as his " Hermotimus. He here seems to vindicate the sincerity of his declaration in the "Angler," "I am the declared enemy of all false pretences, all quackery, all lies, and puffing, and hate from the bottom of my heart all and every one who belongs to that infamous tribe, including a mighty host, as you know full well." Lycinus, who is Lucian's organ, meets his friend Hermotimus, an aspirant for the eudaimony, or divine good, on his way to his master, and enters into conversation with him upon the subject of his studies. By a course of skilful interrogation, he gets his friend to take the popular position upon all the important topics connected with the sect to which he belonged, and then, with those admissions for premises, forces Hermotimus into the most transparent inconsistencies, without himself assuming a single questioned fact. He forces him to admit finally that no person in an imperfect state, in other words, no student of philosophy, is competent, from any inner light, to judge which of the numerous schools or teachers he should attend-that there is no outer means provided for informing himself-that he must enter a school, at the risk of being in errorthat human life is seldom, if ever, long enough to achieve the required perfection, if he commence right-that failure, which is probable if he takes a right start, is therefore certain if he takes a wrong one-that if he perishes before compassing his object his labor has all been fruitless-that most of the

guides upon whom he is to rely live in open violation of their principles, and, finally, that none of them have ever arrived at the condition to which Hermotimus is so zealously aspiring. By this time Lucian has completely silenced his friend: he then lectures him upon the absurdity of the course he has pursued, and advises him very judiciously as to the course he should adopt. Hermotimus is convinced, and determines at once to set about altering his externals:

"You shall see this long, shaggy beard very soon disappear, and the melancholy life I have hitherto led exchanged for one upon a more easy and liberal plan. I will, in the next place, dress in scarlet, that all may see that I have nothing more to do with these follies.

Would to heaven that I knew some eme

tic, that I might bring up all the idle trash I have taken in from them. I do assure you I would not be long hesitating to

swallow twice as much hellebore as Chrysippus took to strengthen his memory, if thereby I could sweep away all their rubbish out of mine. .. And if I should ever hereafter meet a philosopher by profession, though only on the public high road, I shall get out of his way, as I see

him at a distance, no otherwise than as I would avoid a mad dog."*

In reviewing the religious aspect of the age, we shall leave entirely out of view the intrinsic defects of the Roman mythology, presuming that it will at once be conceded to have been one of the most indefinite, unauthentic, and unworthy bodies of theology that has ever risen in any civilized society to the dignity of a religious faith. That such was the case, its utter and total extinction among men would be a sufficient proof, were there no other. This fate, which was to signalize it among that countless offspring of the imagination baptized by human credulity with the name of religion, had been maturing with portentous rapidity for more than a hundred years before Lucian turned upon it that jeering smile which was to make it a bye-word

* Hermotimus.

and a shaking of the head unto the nations. About five hundred years before, the sophist Protagoras had been banished, and his writings had been publicly burnt in the streets of Athens, because he had therein expressed sentiments of disrespect for the prevailing religion. We now behold one of the most witty and accomplished satirists that ever lived devoting the best ener gies of his mind to bring that same religion into contempt during the reigns of the very devout Antoninus Pius and of his adopted son and successor, the equally devout Marcus Aurelius. For his exertions in this behalf, there awaited him, not disgrace nor persecution, but an office of dignity and emolument, to comfort his declining years. It should not be forgotten, that the imperial philosopher, who was so considhimself an aspirant for the glory of a erate for his unbelieving subject, was seat in the Olympian councils, to which he was elevated by his grateful subjects at the very first opportunity that occurred after his soul had taken a convenient form for the transportation. Whence this difference in the moral power of the Olympian faith in five hundred years? The Romans had not, as yet, given any convincing proofs of moral or intellectual superiority over the worthy fathers of their church in the East. They had originated no better faith. Their literature was still, as ever, but a feeble copy of its Greek original. They seldom changed the Greek philosophy but to corrupt it, and never relinquished it for a better. In physical sciences, and in the fine arts, they had never approached the Greeks. Why, then, did that religion, which was strong in its association with the state, venerable from its age, enriched by every style of enchantment which poetry and art could confer upon it, and imposing from the long line of an illustrious priesthood, command less respect from the subjects of Antoninus Pius than it had done from the contemporaries of Socrates and Eschylus, who, in almost every other respect, have shown such superior sagacity in de

tecting and exposing error? Because with the Romans it could no longer be idealized. The elder Greek, whose first and only revelation was Homer and Hesiod, very naturally deified the varied and surprising powers of nature and of man. He had no explanation of that mysterious mechanism through which he lived, and moved, and had his being. It was very natural that he should take omne ignotum pro mirifico, and people a heaven with his own unaccountable attributes. To him, that multiplied Godhead represented powers which deserved his worship. But to the Roman of the age of Antoninus, the Olympian mythology represented no such sublime constituency of powers. He had seen men polluted by every species of vice which absolute power could suggest or human depravity contrive, raised to an equal participation in the honor, and the power, and the glory of those whom he supposed were one day to reward and punish his conduct according to its deserts. How could he respect the divine councils which were to be influenced by the nod of a Tiberius or a Caligula? where Domitian divided with Mars the patronage of heroism, and where intellectual merit had to receive the imprimatur of Claudius as well as Minerva ? It does not require history or philosophy to teach us, that this right of advowson to the vacant seats of Olympus, which the Roman Emperors and Senate began to exercise after the accession of Augustus, did not exalt the new incumbents to the dignity of their celestial station in the popular mind. On the contrary, it provoked a scrutiny of their title-a scrutiny which they could not endure, and which resulted in the extirpation of the venerable delusion which had sustained them, and with it of all genuine religious faith.

Not thus, because the mysteries of nature were no longer unexplained, or because unbelievers felt no sufficient indebtedness to the orderer and disposer of the universe. On the contrary, there was hardly ever a people under heaven so credulous or so super stitious as the Roman,during the second and third centuries. But they were discovering that the gods whom they so ignorantly worshipped were all of

human contrivance, of man's devising; that they were the capital furnished by poets to a few designing priests and potentates, upon which to traffic with the credulity of the multitude, and that, in fact,

"Nos prêtres ne sont pas ce qu'un vain peuple pense,

Notre crédulité fait toute leur science."

Against the growth of this conviction the priesthood had no evidences of paganism, no inspired revelation or standard creed, upon which they could unite for their common defence. Poets had been not only their chief theologians, but also their evangelists, and no better authority could be produced to sustain the most vital dogma of their faith. A singular proof of their defencelessness in this particular is reported by Tacitus. The Messenians prosecuted the Lacedemonians before the Emperor Tiberius, for the exclusive possession of the temple of Diana Limnatide. The Lacedemonians relied on sundry traditions, some old scraps of verses, and a subsequent recognition of their title by Cæsar and Antony. The Messenians, on the other hand, rested their claim upon an ancient partition of the Peloponnesus among the descendants of Hercules, by which this temple fell to one of their ancient kings, as appeared by various inscriptions on stone and brass then remaining. They claimed also to have more abundant poetical and traditionary authorities than their antagonists, and several prætorian decrees in addition. Not a single fact is put in evidence, however, which could affect the rights of either party to anything but the real estate, tenements, and appurtenances of the matter in suit. Not a word is said nor an authority quoted to indicate the location which the divinity had herself selected. No evidence is offered to show her own preference or original intentions. How different is this from the line of defence which the Jews might have adopted, had their title to the temple of Solomon been assailed by the Babylonians or the Egyptians.

About three hundred years later, and after the predominance of the Christian faith in Rome, the venerable and elo