CHAPTERIII.THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON STOICISM.
“Victi victoribus leges dederunt.”
Sen.quoted byStAug. inCiv. Dei.
There is nothing unreasonable in the supposition, that when two systems such as Christianity and Stoicism came into contact, they would naturally exert considerable influence, one on the other. We perceive, if we trace the history of the religion of Christ, that it felt the effect of the philosophy of the Gentile world, and especially of the Greeks, in various ways. Platonism proved itself so powerful as to cause the rise of the Alexandrian school, with its vast influences. In other cases, we see Christianity so strongly impregnated with notions drawn from heathenism, that various baneful heresies arose, which sometimes threatened the very existence of the truth. Tertullian[35]complains that “philosophy furnished the arms and the subjects of heresy.” During the middle of the life of Christianity in the world, so evil were the results, to the Church, of principles external to it in origin, and antagonistic to purity, that we look back on those centuries with deep sorrow, and call them “the dark ages.”
Among other systems of philosophy Stoicism made itself felt by the Church of Christ. In allusion to this Tertullian says, “Our training is from the porch of Solomon.” Again he says, “Let those take care who help forward a Stoic, a Platonic, a dialectic Christianity. We have no need of curious enquiries about the coming of Jesus Christ, nor of investigation after the gospel.” But though Stoic philosophy made itself felt, yet, being practical rather than speculative, it did not produce a distinct school, such as resulted from the Academic system. Still it left its impress on after times, as I shall endeavour to point out in future pages.
Christianity also made a great impression on Stoicism, while the latter continued to exist as a system of philosophy. We do not find its power and principles acknowledged in the writings of any of the school. Yet, from certain expressions in Epictetus andM.Antoninus, we perceive they were fully aware how nearly allied Christian virtue was to their high aspirations; how closely those who were disciples of Christ approached to their own standard. But they were displeased at the principles from which the Christian excellence proceeded; and probably also at the living protest which these men afforded against the philosophy which could not produce results such as their religion produced among the people. So Epictetus[36]inB.IV.Ch. 7, speaking of fearlessness, allows by implication that it was possessed by the Galileans, but puts down their fortitude tohabit, and commends much more that coming from reason. So Antoninus[37]allows that Christians are ready todie, but says that, whereas this readiness should proceed from personal judgment, resulting from due calculation, the readiness of the Christians to die came of mere obstinacy. In other words, they had so strong a faith in the gospel that they would rather die than give it up. Such passing notices as these show decisively that the religion of Jesus was doing a great work of which philosophers became jealous. This work was of the same kind as that which the Stoics professed to have as their object; yet what they failed in achieving was wrought out successfully on principles which they despised. They were vexed and annoyed, and would naturally ignore any influence which the Christian doctrines might have in modifying their opinions. I shall proceed to point out in this chapter that this influence was nevertheless remarkable. What changes occurred in the views of the sect at Athens we do not know: there are no records of the Stoics at Athens at that time. The only writers to whom we can refer, in order to come to any correct estimate as to the development of thought among the sect, of a nature to show Christian influence, were Romans. They are only three in number—Seneca, Epictetus, and the Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. I shall refer to the writings of each in this, their proper order.
When I speak of Seneca as a Roman, I do not forget that he was born in Spain; but being a Roman in thought and feeling, as well as by residence and by birth-right, he is rightly reckoned among Roman philosophers. It is not my business, however, to give even a sketch of his life; nor shall I refer to his voluminous writings, except as they show the influence which Christianity seems to have exerted on the Stoic sect in his day. He lived at the same time thatStPaul laboured for the truth, and there have been traditions of his having been taught the preceptsof the Gospel by the great Apostle himself. These are probably without foundation, but their being so does not prove that Christianity had no influence on his speculations. Their very existence serves to show how apparent that influence was to various readers, so as at least to make the intercourse between the Apostle and the philosopher seem to them not an improbable thing. We must remember that Judaism was the pioneer of Christianity at Rome, as well as elsewhere. Possessed of much divine truth, it necessarily exerted considerable influence there on the world of thought; and so prepared the way for the fuller light which the gospel furnished. Christianity also had now a firm hold on many. Its influence, as we learn from different sources, was beginning to be felt in various ways, and even in the imperial court were found some who acknowledged its power. It is likely therefore that Seneca would study its teaching, or at least would be moved by its presence in the very centre of the world, to listen, even though without conscious sympathy, perhaps with contempt, to what was told him respecting its tenets. We see in his writings that he had many clearer views of truth than the Stoics who preceded him[38]. Forinstance, with reference to the Deity, his providential care avowed as being exercised over men not merely collectively but individually; his sovereignty, his power and glory, not as a mere part of universal nature, but as a being, fully set forth; his work in the human soul recognized as a truth and a necessity for man’s well-doing; these and various other enlarged views of the Lord of all show a vast advance on past Stoicism in the direction of Christian doctrine. Then again, with regard to man, we perceive how clearly he saw that necessary and primary truth, that man is by nature depraved and can only lead a holy life by divine aid. We notice also how he inculcates the duty of love to God and to man, of forgiveness of injuries and of the cultivation of other graces, which have a Christian likeness, if not a Christian parentage. It is doubtless true that these doctrines were the strong and approved opinions of one who was, as Gataker calls him, “home exterior, nec nomini Christiano favens:” but when we read, “cum nec mysterii nostri gnarus esset, nec fidei rationes assequeretur,” the words must be taken in a qualified sense. Experimentally, he was ignorant of the glorious mystery of redemption; but of the religion of Jesus, and of Judaism which prepared the Roman mind for Christianity, he was at least informed, if only by rumour. And we see, from the effect of the religion of the cross at the present time, that its doctrines of purity and mercy may mightily influence even those nations and individuals who do not acknowledge its authority.
Let us look at some of the passages in the writings of Seneca, which serve to bear out the views above expressed;and first, with regard to the divine being and his care of man, we find such expressions as the following: “Godcomes to men, yea, what is nearer still, he comes into men[39]. No mind is good withoutGod. Seeds (of good) are sown in human bodies. And if a good husbandman receives them, there are produced fruits like the original and equal to those from which they sprung: but if a bad husbandman receives them, the ground, not being otherwise than barren and marshy, kills them and thence creates rubbish instead of fruit.” One cannot fail to be struck with the likeness this passage bears to our Lord’s words recorded byStMatt.xiii.18-23. Again, in the 41st Epistle, we read, “God is near thee, is with thee, is within. So I say, Lucilius, the holy spirit has his seat within us, the observer and guard of the evil and the good of our lives: as he is treated by us, so he treats us.” Intimately connected with this view of an indwelling God, was the theory which Seneca held, that man could not be good and perfect without His help. The view which he had of human weakness by nature and of the depravity of the human heart was a great advance in the direction of Christian truth, from Stoic principles, which held so much to the idea of man’s unaided progress to perfection. Yet the views which Seneca entertained were not unmixed with the old speculations. Indeed his mind was evidently struggling to reconcile old doctrines with some new light which was dawning on his mind. Hence he is often apparently contradictory, as men are when in a transition state, or rather when they are endeavouring to graft doctrinesof a totally different type on the old stock. We see, in the passage first quoted above, how plainly he says that no mind is good withoutGod, who sows the seeds of all virtues in the soul, and by his blessing enables a willing heart to bring forth fruit. Again, in the 41st Epistle, he writes, “There is no good man withoutGod. Can any one rise above fortune, unless aided by Him? He inspires grand and upright designs. In every good man he dwells.” But he adds, as if to show the struggle going on within, that He whom he had in the former part of the letter called the holy spirit was to him, as to the Athenians, an “unknownGod.” “Quis deus incertum est,” he says of the deity who dwells in every good man. With regard to man’s moral nature requiring the aid of one who is strong enough to purify it, he speaks very clearly. He sees the need of a change from evil to good in order to become what man should be. Yet he does not mention the need of pardon for sin that is past. InDe Clementia,I.6, this passage occurs: “Reflect, in this city, in which a crowd pours through the widest street without intermission, and like a rapid stream dashes against any obstacle that impedes its course; where accommodation is required in three theatres at the same time; where is consumed whatever grain is produced in all lands; what a solitude and desolation were the result, if nothing were left but what a severe judge would pronounce free from fault.” A little further on he adds, “We have all sinned[40]; some deeply, others more lightly; some from design, others driven by chance impulses, or borne away by wickedness not their own; others of us have shown little steadfastness in sticking to our goodresolutions, and, against our will and in spite of our endeavours, have lost our innocence. Nor is it only that we have erred, but to the end of time we shall err[41]. Even if any one has so purified his mind that nothing can shake, or seduce him any more, yet he has arrived at innocence through sin.” These are remarkable expressions, and show how much advanced the views of the philosopher were in the direction of the truth, even though it was by the path of self-humiliation. The writer of the article on “The Ancient Stoics” in the Oxford Essays, remarks: “Those who have been anxious to obtain the authority of Aristotle for the doctrine of human corruption, will find on consideration that this idea, which was historically impossible for a Greek of the fourth centuryB.C., came with sufficient vividness into the consciousness of persons in the position of Seneca; but not till much later than Aristotle, probably not before the beginning of our era. On the other hand, we are not to fancy that the thoughts of Seneca received any influence from Christianity.” With this last sentence I do not agree. It seems scarcely reasonable to ignore the power of a system which we know was already exercising attention at Rome; a system of high and holy principles, presenting much for the Stoic mind to admire. That similar thoughts struck Paul the Apostle, and Seneca the philosopher, at the same era, is certain. It was a remarkable coincidence, but it was something more. We know that those thoughts in the mind of the converted Jew were the result, not of self-reflection, nor of communing with his own heart, merely, but of a power outside of himself, more mighty and convincing than any inner influence; but still, actingon a strong mind, already trained in many uncommon and elevating doctrines by Judaism; which had also been training the Roman world to look for something purer and higher than the superstition and vain guesses at truth, which were so prevalent heretofore. When Christianity supplied all the demands of the soul, and gave to the Roman world a divine system of doctrine and morals, it soon commanded the attention which it deserved[42]. This being so, there would seem to be no reason for saying that it had no influence direct or indirect on the mind of the Stoic philosopher: especially when, on the very face of it, the inconsistency of his writings shows that he owed his conclusions to two distinct sources; one, the old Stoic system—the other, a new class of thoughts which might at least be supposed to have a Christian origin. There is no doubt that, among the Romans at the time of Seneca, Christianity was not distinguished from Judaism, but reckoned a part of that system. We see, in the 95th letter of the philosopher, plain reference to Jewish forms and prohibitions. The word sabbath[43]is used; and the whole of the expressions show how conversant the writer must have been with the tenets of the people brought from Palestine. We are struck too with the lessons of piety and charity which he deduces from his reflections. He sets forth the necessity of having, as the end of our endeavours, the attainment of the highest good; and tothis we should have respect in every act and word, “as sailors direct their course to some star.” When we read the words, “non quærit ministros Deus: quidni? Ipse humano generi ministrat: ubique et omnibus præsto est:” how naturally our minds recal the words ofStPaul to the Athenians: “neither is He served by men’s hands, as being in need of any; seeing He giveth to all life, and breath, and all things[44].” We see too that Seneca had clearer notions than his predecessors of the personal existence of the deity and of his intimate care of each individual, as well as of the whole race of men. He perceived the need of knowing and believingGodand of offering him spiritual worship; that mere sacrifice and outward homage were vain. In the following passages from the same letter these views are clearly expressed; as is also the great truth which the Saviour taught, that to loveGodwith all our heart and mind and soul and strength, and our neighbour as ourselves, is the essence of religion and virtue: that it is indeed “more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices[45].” He writes, “He who knowsGod, worships Him.... A man should learn how to conduct himself in offering sacrifices, to recoil very far from disquiet of mind and superstitious observances: never will he be advanced enough unless he conceive in his mind what kind of a beingGodmust be, possessing all things, bestowing all things, freely giving His benefits.... The beginning of the worship of the gods, is to believe the gods[46]; then, to ascribe to them their majesty; to ascribe to them their goodness, without which there is no majesty; to know that they who rule the world, who control theuniverse, who are guardians of the human race, are also at the same time full of care for each man.... Look at another question, our proper conduct towards men. How do we deal with this matter? What instructions do we give? That there be a sparing of human life? How small a matter it is not to hurt him to whom you owe benefits. Truly it is great praise if man is gentle to man. Shall we teach that he stretch out his hand to the shipwrecked, that he show the right way to the erring, that he divide his loaf with the hungry? When shall I declare all things which are to be performed, or avoided, since I can furnish in few words this formula of human duty? All this that you see, in which divine and human affairs are included, is comprised in one fact, as a foundation for our rule of action—we are members of one great body. Nature has made us all akin, since she begat us from the same originals and for the same destinies. She has indued us with mutual love, and made us companionable: she has arranged what is equitable and just: by her institution, it is more wretched to hurt, than to suffer injury: and by her command, the hands are ready for the assistance of others. That verse should be in the breast, as well as in the mouth.
‘Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto.’
We should hold it as a common bond, that we have been born. Our fellowship is most like an arch of stones; which will fall, if each in turn do not afford support, one sustaining the other[47].” In the 47th letter (to Lucilius), he speaks of the value of kindness even to slaves: “I have gladly learnt from those who have come fromyou, that you live familiarly with your slaves. This is worthy of your wisdom and of your learning. Are they slaves? Yes, but they are also men. Are they slaves? Yes, but they are also comrades. Are they slaves? Yes, but they are also humble friends.”
He also shows how advanced his feelings were by depicting the wickedness and debasing nature of revenge and cruelty. He paints in beautiful language the opposite virtue. Yet, lest he should seem to forget his Stoicism altogether, he draws a nice distinction between clemency (clementia) and compassion (misericordia). He ascribes to the former, however, nearly all that we ascribe to the latter, except the outward manifestation of sympathy. There must be an apparent Stoicism veiling real humanity. He calls cruelty proceeding from revenge “An evil in no degree human, and unworthy therefore of a gentle mind. It is a madness like that of wild beasts, to delight in blood and wounds, and, manhood being laid aside, to change into a brute.” (De Clem.I.24.) “As he is not the large minded man, who is liberal of another’s property; but he who deprives himself of what he gives to another: so I will call him clement, not who is easy under another person’s wrong, but who does not break out, when spurred on by his personal feelings; who understands that it is the attribute of a great mind to suffer injuries though possessed of the fullest power to avenge them.” (De Clem.I.20.) “I know that the Stoic sect are in bad repute among the inexperienced, as being too harsh, and inclined to give advice which is far from good to princes and kings. It is objected against the sect that it says the wise man should not be compassionate, should not forgive. These, if taken by themselves, are hateful doctrines; for they seem to leave nohope to human errors, but to bring every fault to punishment. But if this be a true report, what is this system of knowledge but one which commands us to unlearn humanity, and shuts a most certain door against mutual help in misfortune? Yet there is no sect kinder or more gentle, none more loving of men, and more attentive to the common good: as it is a principle with us to provide for being of use, or to afford help, not only where self is concerned, but to all and to each. Compassion (misericordia) is an unquiet of the mind (ægritudo animi) from the sight of others’ miseries; or a sadness contracted from the misfortunes of others, which one believes to have fallen on those who did not deserve them. Now unquiet does not come to the wise man; his mind is calm, nor can anything happen to overthrow it: and nothing but magnanimity becomes him. But the same man cannot be magnanimous whom fear and sorrow assail, whose mind these feelings overthrow and contract. To the wise man this does not happen even in his own calamities; but he will, on the contrary, beat back all the anger of fortune and break it before him. He will always preserve the same countenance, calm and undisturbed; which he could not do, if he gave way to sadness. Therefore he is not compassionate, because this cannot be without misery: all other things which those do who are compassionate, he does willingly and in another frame of mind. He will succour the tears of others; he will not give way to them. He will give a helping hand to the shipwrecked, shelter to the exile, alms to the needy; he does not do this disdainfully, like the greater part of those who wish to seem compassionate, who disdain those whom they help and fear to be touched by them: but he will give as an equal, a man to a man. He will give the son to his mother’stears, and will command the fetters to be loosened; he will redeem from the arena the man condemned to fight, and he will even bury the noxious dead body. But he will do this with a peaceful mind and a countenance worthy of himself. Therefore the wise man will not pity, but he will help; he will benefit, as one born for mutual help and the public good; from which he will give each his share; even to the troublesome, in due proportion—to those who are to be disapproved of and reformed, he shows kindness. But he much more willingly comes to the help of the afflicted, and heavily laden.” (De Clem.II.5, 6.)
With regard to the life of the soul in a future world as a separate being, Seneca’s mind seems, from his different writings, to have been in an undecided state. Sometimes, however, he rises superior to his doubts and to his Stoic bias, and rejoices in the hope of real immortality. We see the uncertainty under which he laboured in his book written to console Polybius for the loss of his brother. He tells him that, if he lamented, it was either on his own account, or on account of the departed. If on his own account, then he was not wisely submissive to the wisdom which ruled all things. If he lamented for his brother’s sake, then he should reflect that one of two events must have occurred; either that his brother by death had lost consciousness and individuality; or, he was still sensible and conscious. In either case Polybius should reason himself out of grief. He should reflect in this way: “If there remain no sense to the departed, then he has escaped all the inconveniences of life, and is restored to that place where he was before he was born: and, free from all evil, fears nothing, desires nothing, suffers nothing. What madness is it then for me not to ceasegrieving for him, who never will grieve any more?” In this hypothesis, we see a reference to the ancient Stoic belief respecting the dead. But Seneca proceeds to point out to Polybius a nobler reason for ceasing to mourn. He bids him think, “If there be any consciousness in the dead; now the mind of my brother, as though released from a long imprisonment, at length acts according to its own reason and will; and enjoys the spectacle of the universe, and from a higher place looks down on all human affairs; yet has a nearer insight into those divine mysteries, the design of which he had so long sought in vain to understand.” He adds, “Do not then grieve for your brother; he is at rest. At length he is free, at length he is safe, at length he is immortal. Now he enjoys an open and free heaven; he has ascended from a low and sunken place to that, whatever it be, which receives those souls that are released from their fetters into its happy bosom: and now he wanders freely, and beholds with highest delight all the treasures of the universe. You are wrong; your brother has not lost his life; but has attained to one more secure. He has not left us, but has gone before.” (Ch. 28.) To this idea of a happy future existence for the soul, he sometimes recurs in other parts of his writings. In his 102nd letter he complains of having been disturbed by a letter from Lucilius, in his happy thoughts of this nature. “Just as he is a troublesome fellow who wakes one that has a pleasant dream, so did your letter injure me. It called me back when indulging in suitable thought and about to venture further, if one might. I was delighting myself with enquiring respecting the immortality of souls, yes and more than that, with believing in it. I gave my belief readily to the opinions of great men, who rather promisedthis most welcome thing, than proved it. I gave myself up to so great a hope. Already I was disdainful of my present self, already I despised the fragments of my broken existence, about to pass, as I was, into that immense duration and into the possession of eternity: when suddenly I was awakened by the receipt of your letter, and lost my beautiful dream. But I will seek it again, when I have sent you away, and try to get it back.” In the latter part of the same letter he compares our present life to the period of gestation. When we cast off our skin and bones and sinews at death, we shall be like infants escaping from what has enfolded them previously to their birth. When we die, then we shall be born to a nobler life. We need not mourn over our dying bodies. “The coverings always perish of those who are born. Therefore look hence to something more lofty and sublime. Hereafter the mysteries of the universe shall be revealed to you, the darkness shall be dispelled, and clear light shall break upon you from every side. Imagine within yourself how great will be that brightness, so many stars commingling their light. No cloud will disturb the peaceful scene. The whole expanse of heaven will shine with equal splendour. Then you will say you have lived in darkness, when you shall have full vision of that perfect light. This thought allows nothing filthy, nothing low, nothing cruel to find place in the mind; and he who has embraced this doctrine, dreads no hosts, trembles not at the trumpet’s blast, fears no threats.”
No one would pretend to say that there are definite traces of Christian influence in these lofty thoughts. Indeed one’s mind naturally turns from them to similar musings in theSomnium Scipionisof Cicero, and elsewhere.We remember too the noble surmises of Plato respecting the soul’s immortality; and how Cato, the Stoic, improved on his Stoicism, by indulging in lofty views of a future life, drawn from this source, before his suicide. Yet one cannot but feel that Seneca, at times, nearly reached the truth, and owed to the influence of the religion of Jesus on the age in which he lived, much of the peculiar excellence of his philosophy.
If from him we turn to Epictetus, we see one still more steadily approaching the light. He seems almost more than a pagan philosopher, but less than a Christian disciple. His discourses preserved to us by the care of Arrian, who wrote in Greek what he heard as the disciple of the philosopher, show a pious spirit and a disrelish for the harsher doctrines of the Stoic system. They bear in some parts a striking likeness to the teachings of the Gospel. Just as our Saviour taught that he who humbleth himself shall be exalted, and that the soul needed His care, as a sick man needs a physician: so we read in Epictetus, “The beginning of philosophy is, according to those who enter, even as they ought, through this gate to her, a perception of their weakness and powerlessness in necessary matters ... Does the philosopher beseech men to listen to him? What doctor asks that any one should suffer himself to be healed by him? Although I hear that at Rome now, doctors call patients to them, yet in my time, they were called to their patients. I invite you to come and hear that you are ill; that you take care of anything rather than what is worthy of care; that you are ignorant of good and evil; that you are unhappy and wretched. The school of the philosopher is a doctor’s shop, from which one should go away, not joyful, but suffering: for you did not come to it whole, butsick, one with a dislocated shoulder, another afflicted with a tumour, another with an ulcer, and another with headache[48].” We find also how clearly he saw the necessity for divine aid in doing right, and the need for submission to the divine will, self-will being cast aside. He says, “Call to mind, man, what is said about tranquillity, liberty, magnanimity. Lift up your head now, like one freed from slavery. Dare at length, with eyes raised toGod, to say, ‘Henceforth deal with me as thou wilt: Thy thought is my thought; Thy will the same as mine; I refuse nothing that seemeth good to Thee. Lead me whither Thou wilt. Clothe me as Thou wilt. Dost Thou wish me to lead a public life, to live in private, to remain, to flee, to be in need, to abound with wealth? I will defend Thee as to all these dispensations of thy providence before men: I will show what is the nature of each. Cleanse Thou Thine own. Of Thine own will cast out thence grief, and fear, and avarice, and envy, and ill-will, and covetousness, and effeminacy, and intemperance.’ These things cannot be cast out except you look toGodalone, and cleave to him alone, and sacrifice yourself to his commands[49].” At another place, we find Epictetus acknowledging that the change of his life from sin to virtue was due to divine mercy, and called for grateful acknowledgement. “I observe what men say and by what they are influenced; and I do this not malevolently, nor that I may find something to blame, or ridicule, but I turn it to myself, lest I also sin in the same way. How then shall I cease from sin? Once I also sinned,but now do so no longer,thanks be toGod[50].” Of the providence ofGod, some of the most elevated, reverent, and grateful records are contained in the Dissertations. For instance, we have the following noble passage inB.I.c.16: “What language will be sufficient to praise and set forth these works of Providence towards us. For, if we are mindful, what else does it behove us to do, both in public and private, than to praise and bless the Deity, and to utter thanksgivings? Ought we not both while we dig, and while we plough, and while we eat, to sing this hymn toGod? ‘Great isGodwho hath provided such implements for us, by which we work the ground: great isGod, who hath given us hands; and the power of swallowing our food, as well as a place for its digestion; who hath caused us to grow without our own care, and to breathe even while we sleep.’ These things should be sung, one by one; even the grandest and holiest hymn should be sung, because He has given us a power of attending to these things and making use of them by a proper method[51]. What then? Since ye, the multitude, are blinded to this, ought not one to be found to fulfil this part and sing, in place of all, the hymn toGod? For what other duty can I, a lame old man, discharge, except sing the praises ofGod? If I were a nightingale, I would fulfil my part like the nightingale; if a swan, like the swan. But now, since I am possessed of reason, I ought to sing the praises ofGod. This is my work, I do it: nor will I leave this post, so long aspower is given me to hold it, and I exhort you to join in the singing of this same song[52].” He speaks also of the freedom of the human will to perform certain acts, and dwells on the acts that are within the power of the will. He shows the folly of valuing too highly what is beyond our power, and the necessity of submitting our will to the divine will. But though he speaks of the freedom of the human will, he is a firm believer in fatalism; so that his idea of the true freedom of man was limited. “I have one whom it behoves me to please, to whom I must submit, whom I ought to obey—God, and those who hold a place near him. He has committed me to myself and placed my free will in subjection to myself alone, giving me rules for its right use: and when I follow these in my reasonings, I do not care what else any one says[53].” “Remember this, that if you esteem every thing that is beyond your choice, you lose the power of choosing[54].” He tells us we are the children ofGod, and that this relationship should lead us to act worthily of Him. “If any one will embrace this truth as he ought, that we are especially the children ofGod, and thatGodis the Father, as well of men, as of the gods, I think he will allow no ignoble or low thoughts about himself.... On account of this relationship, those of us who fall away become, some like wolves, faithless, and cunning, and baneful; others, like lions, fierce, savage, and uncivilized; more of us still become foxes and whatever else among beasts are monstrous. For what else is an evil-tongued and depraved man than a wolf, or whatever besides is more wretched and debased? See, then, and take care lest you fall away into one of these monsters[55].” Nothing is more remarkable in Epictetusthan his earnest piety. “I esteem whatGodwills as better than what I will. I cleave to him as a servant and follower; with him, I go eagerly forward; with him, I stretch myself out: in short, what he wishes, I wish[56].” But we find that he does not rise to any glorious hopes of a future separate existence for the soul. Instead of this, he cleaves to the Stoic idea, of the distribution of man, at death, into his component parts. “What was fire in thee,” he says, “will return to fire; what was earthy, to earth; what belonged to the wind will return to the wind; what was watery, to water[57].” He was not, however, without some knowledge of the power of Christianity, on those who embraced it, to make them brave all things for the gospel’s sake. He speaks of the “Galileans braving the tyrant, his satellites, and their swords, from madness and custom.” He says he prefers reason to this influence which sustained them. Yet, though he remains without the personal knowledge of the power of Christ, what I have produced from his works serves to show that there was a work going on in the world, by means of the gospel, which extended further than the Church, and gave to the Stoic purer and holier views of the truth. He felt himself an erring being in need of divine aid. He felt that he was under the care of a loving Father, to whom he turned for aid. And he strongly brings before us the need all men have by self-abasement to seek the love of the supreme being, and to rise by his help to perfection. This was a great advance on old Stoic pride and self-dependence. Moreover, others began to have a share of attention. All mankind were recognized as justly entitled to the love and support of each other. Indeed, Stoicism came downfrom the height of its self-sufficiency. Its disciples learnt to mistrust themselves and to trust inGod. They were making progress in true wisdom. Plutarch had urged against the sect their belief, that “Goddoes not give men virtue; but that goodness is in their own power: that He gives riches and health, without virtue; and does not afford assistance for their benefit[58].” They had to learn the lesson, that man is incapable of goodness without divine aid; and, as we have seen, Epictetus did learn it in some degree. Yet we shall perceive, from what Marcus Aurelius wrote, that the old leaven remained mightily at work, and the advance was not thorough. In proportion as the sect felt their need of divine aid, they came also to give up some of their selfishness and exclusiveness. Epictetus urges the propriety of mingling with men and helping them. He would do them good, teach them their need of humility, and of a cure for their mental maladies. “Will you not,” he says, “do as sick people do, call the physician? ‘Lord, I am sick, help me; see what I ought to do; it is for me to obey thee.’ So also again, ‘What to do I know not; I have come to thee to learn.’” (Diss.B.II.15.) He wished to benefit the multitude, and had imbibed some of the spirit of that lesson so full of truth, that “he who lovesGodwill love his brother also.”
These remarks will be applicable, but not in so high a degree, to Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, the Emperor. He was the last of the Stoics who has left a memorial behind. With him the sect ceased as a sect of philosophy. If we read his meditations we perceive that while muchof their doctrines remained unchanged, many were considerably modified. The modification was in a direction similar to that noticed in the previous pages, which we should expect to find, if Christianity exercised a collateral influence. Antoninus claims the care of the supreme being for men, and shows the duty of men to believe in the goodness of the gods. “It behoves thee so to do and think about every thing, as to be able to depart out of life now. But to depart from among men is nothing dreadful, if there be gods, for they will lay no evil on thee. If, on the other hand, there be no gods, or if they do not concern themselves about human affairs, what good is it to me to live in a world without gods, and without a Providence? But there are gods, and they concern themselves about human affairs.” (B.II.ch. 11). “The soul, when it must depart from the body, should be ready to be extinguished, to be dispersed, or to subsist a while longer with the body.” (B.XI.3). Yet he would have this readiness to proceed from similar feelings to his own. He knew the bravery and resignation of Christians. Alas! he had not large-heartedness enough to tolerate what seemed an opposing influence to his favourite philosophy, and tried by persecution to extirpate the faith of the cross. The faith, however, proved itself stronger than philosophy; Christ crucified was to the Greek foolishness, but was mightier than the wisdom of men, and “the weakness ofGodwas stronger than men.” Antoninus could not but see the inability of persecution to check the religion of Jesus; yet he put down the earnest faith and determination of its disciples to obstinacy. So after the words just quoted from his work, on the propriety of being ready for whatever may come, he adds, “But this readiness must proceed from the soul’s ownjudgment, and not from mere obstinacy, as with the Christians; it must be arrived at with reflection and dignity, so that you could even convince another without declamation.”
There is a resemblance in the description of the nature of man given by this Stoic, to that given by the Apostle Paul. This is noticed in the Essay by SirA.Grant, to which reference has already been made. He says, “we find in him (Antoninus) the same psychological division of man into body, soul, and spirit, as was employed byStPaul.” A similar observation was made by Gataker in a note which I shall presently quote. Antoninus writes in this way (B.II.c.2), “What I am, consists entirely of the fleshly (σαρκία) and spiritual (πνευμάτιον), and the chief part (τὸ ἡγεμονικόν). But now, as being about to die, despise thou thy fleshly parts; gore, and bones, and a network woven of nerves, veins, and arteries. Look also at thy spiritual part of what nature it is; a breath of air which is never the same, but continually breathed out and drawn in again. The third remaining is the principal part. Thou art old, no longer shouldst thou suffer this to be enslaved.” Again, inB.III.16, his words are, “Body (σῶμα), soul (ψυχὴ), mind (νοῦς). To thy body belong senses; to thy soul, affections; to thy mind, opinions.” Again, (XII.3), “There are three things of which thou art composed, body (σωμάτιον), spirit (πνευμάτιον), mind (vοῦς). Of these the first two are thine, so far as the care of them is concerned. But the third alone is really thy own.” On the first of these quotations, Gataker has the following note[59]. “Almost the same thing, in other words, the Apostle writes to the Thessaloniansin the first Epistle, ch. 5,v.23, where he says, ‘Τὸ πνεῦμα, καὶ ἡ ψυχὴ καὶ τὸ σῶμα:’ in which place τὸ σῶμα is what Marcus here calls σαρκία; ἡ ψυχὴ is here πνευμάτιον; and τὸ πνεῦμα is here τὸ ἡγεμονικόν.” We may notice, in addition, that this last is called νοῦς inB.III.16, andB.XII.3. We read in Epictetus,B.III.7, “That three things belong to man no one will deny—soul (ψυχὴ), and body (σῶμα), and things without” (τὰ ἐκτός). The “τὰ ἐκτός” here include the “τὸ πνεῦμα” of Antoninus, which he says is “ἄνεμος,” and is “breathed out and drawn in continuously.”
With regard to a future existence for the soul, freed from sin and pain at death, though Aurelius denies the hope in some places, yet in others the light of the truth seems to stagger him. So when he says,B.XII.1, “How comes it to pass, that the gods, who order all things well and lovingly for the human race, have overlooked this alone, namely, that men innately good, and who have had, as it were, frequent communions with the deity, and by holy deeds and sacred services have become friends of the deity, when once they die, no longer have any being, but go away to be absorbed in the universe?” He shows his doubts by adding, “if this be the fact,” concerning them; and, further on, “if the fact be otherwise.” Evidently he wavered in his belief.
Antoninus was ascetic in his views. He was fond of retirement and seclusion, thinking his mental progress furthered thereby. He does not seem so intensely earnest, nor so pious and nobly gifted as Epictetus: yet his aspirations were noble. “Oh, my soul!” we hear him saying[60], “wilt thou ever be good, and simple, and one,and naked, and more transparent than the body which clothes thee?” Though philosophy with him was all in all, yet the cause of truth was advancing; the light from heaven was beginning to penetrate the darkness. One cannot put down his record of self-communings without feeling sad, and wishing he had opened his eyes to the perfection of that gospel which he professedly rejected and despised.