were given by mutilations, incurable diseases, and other disasters, —even by extreme pain; and when they were clearly given, wisdom and strength were as much manifested in following these leadings of nature or Providence as they were manifested at other times in resisting the seductions of pleasure and pain. So far we have considered the "nature" of the individual man apart from his social relations; but it is obvious that the sphere of virtue, as commonly conceived, lies chiefly in such relations. And this was fully recognised. in the Stoic account of duties (kakovтa); indeed, their exposition of the "natural" basis of justice, the evidences in man's mental and physical constitution that he was born not for himself but for mankind, is the most important part/ of their work in the region of practical morality. Here, however, we especially notice the double significance of "natural," as applied to (1) what actually exists everywhere or for the most part, and (2) what would exist if the original plan of man's life were fully carried out; and we find that the Stoics have not clearly harmonised the two elements of the notion. That man was "naturally" a political animal Aristotle had already taught: in the ideal view of nature which the Stoics framed, he was, we may say, cosmopolitical; for it was an immediate inference from the Stoic conception of the universe as a whole that all rational beings, in the unity of the reason that is common to all, form naturally one community with a common law. That the members of this “city of Zeus" should observe their contracts, abstain from mutual harm, combine to protect each other from injury, were obvious points of natural law; while, again, it was clearly necessary to the preservation of human society that its members should form sexual unions, produce G children, and bestow care on their rearing and training. § 16. 1 It seems to have been a generally accepted maxim that the Stoic sage would take part in public life, unless some special obstacle prevented him; the critics of the school, however, observed that in practice such obstacles were usually found by the Stoic philosophers. dom from bodily pain; but they refused, even in this outer court of wisdom, to find a place for pleasure. They held that the latter was not an object of uncorrupted natural impulse, but an "aftergrowth" (iуévvηua), a mere consequence of natural impulses attaining their ends. They thus endeavoured to resist Epicureanism even on the ground where the latter seems primâ facie strongest-in its appeal, namely, to the natural pleasure-seeking of all living things. Nor did they merely mean by pleasure (dový) the gratification of bodily appetite; e.g. we find Chrysippus urging, as a decisive argument against Aristotle, that pure speculation was "a kind of amusement, that is, pleasure." Even the "joy and gladness" (xapá, evppoσúvn) that accompany the exercise of virtue seem to have been regarded by them as merely an inseparable accident, not the essential constituent of wellbeing. Thus it is only by a later modification of Stoicism1 that cheerfulness or peace of mind is taken as the real ultimate end, to which the exercise of virtue is merely a means; in Zeno's system it is good volition, and not the feeling that attends it, which constitutes the essence of good life. At the same time, since pleasant feeling of some kind must always have been a prominent element in the popular conception of "wellbeing" or "welfare" (evdaovía), it is probable that the serene joys of virtue, and the grieflessness which the sage was: conceived to maintain amid the worst tortures, formed the main attractions of Stoicism for most minds. In this sense, then, it may be fairly said that Stoics and Epicureans made rival offers to mankind of the same kind of happiness; the philosophical peculiarities of either system may ! 1 This modification-so far as I am aware-is not definitely to be found earlier than Cicero. Cf. post, p. 95, note 2. as these emotions involve the conception of it as a good. Similarly, though he will be subject like other men to bodily pain, this will not cause him mental grief or disquiet, as his worst agonies will not disturb his clear conviction that it is really indifferent to his true reasonable self. And so of all other objects that commonly excite men's hope, fear, joy, or grief: they cannot produce these states in the sage, because he cannot judge them to be really good or bad. We are not therefore to regard the sage as an altogether emotionless being; there is a reasonable elation over the attainment of what is truly good, movements of inclination or aversion to what reason judges preferable1 or the reverse, which the wisest man may experience; but the passions that sway ordinary human minds cannot affect him." That this impassive sage was a being hardly to be found among living men the later Stoics at least were fully aware. They faintly suggested that one or two moral heroes of old time might have realised the ideal; but they admitted that, except these, even all other philosophers were merely in a state of progress towards it. This admission, however, did not in the least diminish the rigour of their demand for absolute loyalty to the exclusive claims of wisdom. The assurance of its own unique value that such wisdom involved they held to be an abiding possession for those who had attained it ;2 and without this assurance no act could be truly wise or virtuous. Whatever was not of knowledge was of sin; and the distinction between right and wrong being absolute and not admitting of degrees, all sins were equally sinful; whoever broke the 1 For the distinction between the "Preferred" or "Preferable" and 'the "Good," see pp. 79, 80. 2 The Stoics were not quite agreed as to the immutability of virtue, when once possessed; but they were agreed that it could only be lost through the loss of reason itself. least commandment was guilty of the whole law. Similarly, all wisdom was somehow involved in any one of the manifestations of wisdom, commonly distinguished as particular virtues ;-in classifying which the Stoics seem generally to have adopted Plato's fourfold division as at least the basis of their own scheme;1 though whether these virtues were specifically distinct, or only the same knowledge in different relations, was a subtle question on which they do not seem to have been agreed. dom and Was, then, this rare and priceless knowledge something Stoic Freewhich it was possible for man to attain, or were human Determinshortcomings really involuntary? There is an obvious ism. danger to moral responsibility involved in the doctrine that vice is involuntary; which yet seems a natural inference from the Socratic identification of knowledge with virtue. Hence, as we have seen, Aristotle had already been led to attempt a refutation of this doctrine; but his attempt had only shown the profound difficulty of attacking the paradox, so long as it was admitted that no one could of deliberate purpose act contrary to what seemed to him best. Now, Aristotle's divergence from Socrates had not led him so far as to deny this; while for the Stoics who had receded to the original Socratic position, the difficulty was still more. patent. In fact, a philosopher who maintains that virtue is essentially knowledge has to choose between alternative paradoxes: he must either allow vice to be involuntary, or affirm ignorance to be voluntary. The latter horn of the dilemma is at any rate the less dangerous to morality, and 1 The Stoic definitions of the four virtues appear to have varied a good deal. Zeno, according to Plutarch, defined Justice, Temperance, and Fortitude, as Wisdom in "things to be distributed," "things to be chosen," and "things to be endured"; and this statement may be taken as expressing briefly the general view of the school. |