Philosophical Works of the Late James Frederick Ferrier/Lectures on Greek Philosophy (1888)/Stoics and Epicureans
STOICS AND EPICUREANS.
1. In the present lecture I propose to place before you, as clearly as the lights which I have been able to collect on the subject will enable me, the moral philosophy of the Stoics.
2. Zeno, the founder of the Stoical sect, was born in the island of Cyprus. The dates of his birth and death are uncertain. He is said to have been alive, in an extreme old age, in the year 260 B.C., so that we may assume 300 B.C., or thereabouts, as the period when he flourished, or was in the active exercise of his powers. The place in Athens where he harangued his pupils was stoa, the porch; the Variegated Porch, as it was called, from the paintings of Polygnotus which adorned its walls, and which represented the victories gained by the Athenians over the Persians. From this meeting-place his adherents received the name of Stoics; that is, the philosophers of the porch. The successors of Zeno were (Cleanthes and Chrysippus, the latter of whom is mentioned by Horace in the lines in which he gives the preference to Homer as a teacher of moral wisdom over all other instructors, saying of the great poet, the "Trojani belli scriptorem," that he was a man
" Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,
Planius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit."
3. Zeno the founder of the Stoical philosophy, is, of course, not to be confounded with Zeno the philosopher of the Eleatic school, of whom I have spoken above (see p. 102). It has been said that while a man's speculative opinions frequently depend on the age in which he lives, and on the modes of thought in the midst of which he has been brought up, his ethical views, on the other hand, generally depend more on his own natural temperament, or moral idiosyncrasy, or worldly fortunes. Hence a biographical account of Zeno the founder of the Stoics, a narrative of his life and fortunes, would probably throw much light on the moral doctrines that he inculcated. Little more, however, is known of him than this, that having been shipwrecked near Athens, and thereby reduced to poverty, he was so much disgusted by the loss of all his worldly substance that he attached himself to the philosophy of the Cynics. Zeno, however, we are told, was soon repelled by the grossness of manners, the intellectual narrowness, and incapacity of this sect, and established a school for himself. He is said to have lived, partly perhaps because he could not help it, upon a very spare diet, consisting of figs, bread, and honey, and the severity of his life was reflected in the moral principles which he promulgated; principles, however, which were not without grandeur and truth, could we but get them exhibited to us in a clear and systematic exposition.
4. So scattered and fragmentary are the notices of the Stoical philosophy that have come down to us, so declamatory and incoherent is every exposition of their ethical opinions, that it is by no means easy to give any account of their moral philosophy which shall be either intelligible or interesting. The germ of the Stoical morality seems to lie in some such proposition as this: All good, all happiness, all virtue, consists in a conformity to law, just as all evil, all misery, all vice, consists in lawlessness, in a repudiation or violation or defiance of law. Submission to law, acquiescence in the established order of the universe, this seems to be the principle, and, indeed, the sum and substance, of their moral code. That being, I think, the general root of their system, we have now to consider the details into which it branches. And I ask what is the law, a conformity with which is equivalent to good, is equivalent to happiness, is equivalent to virtue? The answer, so far as man is concerned, seems to be this: To be virtuous and happy, man must conform first to the law of his own nature; secondly, he must conform to the law by which society is held together; thirdly, he must conform to the law of Providence. A life in conformity with these three laws, or rather three classes of laws, is, and must be, a life of virtue and happiness. But here it has to be asked, By means of what principle is man to find out these laws? how is he to discover what they are, and what they enjoin? By what principle is he to know when her is obeying the laws of his own nature, and when he is violating them? By what principle is he to know when he is obeying the laws of society, and when he is violating them? By what principle is he to know when he is obeying the laws of God, and when he is violating them? He is enabled to know this, the Stoics say, by the principle of reason; so that their general ethical doctrine, stated more explicitly, amounts to this, "Man is happy and virtuous in proportion to the degree in which, under the guidance and enlightenment of reason and knowledge, he conforms or accommodates himself, first, to the law of his own nature; secondly, to the law of society; thirdly, to the law of Providence." The perfect man of the Stoics, their completely wise man, is represented as living in strict conformity with these laws. Under the guidance of a perfect reason he yields an entire submission to the law of his own being, he fulfils to the letter all that his- true nature enjoins. He yields an entire submission to the great laws by which society is held together and advanced; he yields an entire submission to the will of his Creator, and acts in strict accordance with the designs of an overruling and all governing Providence; and doing so, his happiness as well as his virtue is supreme. But this picture is obviously ideal. Horace has ridiculed the wise and perfect man of the Stoics in these words:
" Sapiens uno minor est Jove; dives,
Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum,
Præcipue sanus, nisi cum pituita molesta est." ,
—Ep. I. i. 106.
But Horace has here construed their abstract man into the concrete. They do not affirm that their pattern man ever existed on the earth; and therefore, when Horace remarks that all the magnificent virtues and high-sounding pretensions of this perfect sage are scattered to the winds by an attack of phlegm, they might have retorted that they had taken care never to place him in a situation where there was any danger of his catching cold.
5. In regard to the first of the conformities now spoken of, namely, the conformity with the law of our own nature, I have just to remark that there is a close consonance, indeed an absolute coincidence, between this doctrine and that propounded by Socrates, Plato, and Butler, in regard to the government of the passions. Aristotle also teaches the same doctrine. Both Plato and Aristotle set forth reason as the born ruler of the passions. They hold, that the law of our nature is not conformed to, but is violated, when this relation is reversed, and when the passions get the upper hand. Indeed, so universal is this doctrine that it is promulgated in every system; and, as we saw yesterday, Shakespeare, without any Greek, has got hold of it. When in the council which is held by the mortal instruments, as he denominates the passions, and the genius, as he terms the higher principle of reason or conscience, when in this council the mortal instruments prevail over the genius, the state of man, like to a little kingdom, suffers then the nature of an insurrection; in other words, the law of our constitution is violated, the man goes to neck, crime and misery ensue. The Stoical precept was, vivere convenienter naturæ; in Greek, ὁμολογουμένος τῇ φύσει ζῆν, which means, to maintain the law of our being, live conformably to that law. The meaning of which again is simply this, that we must allow that relation of superiority and inferiority to subsist which nature herself has established among the different principles of our constitution, and that in doing so we shall attain to both virtue and happiness. And this, as we have seen, is no other than the foundation on which the whole of Bishop Butler's ethical system reposes. It is unnecessary for me, therefore, to enlarge further on the submission which we must yield to the law of our being if we would attain to virtue and happiness.
6. There is this, however, to be observed, that, unlike Butler, the Stoics make self-love to be the elementary principle of human action. This is a natural principle which leads man, and indeed all animated creatures, to adopt means by which their own preservation and welfare may be secured. To the operation of this principle their wellbeing has been intrusted. Man, however, is endowed with reason, and hence he is able to arrange in a scale, according to their different degrees of eligibility, as pointed out by reason, the natural good things by which his wellbeing is promoted; and the first steps which he takes towards a life of virtue and happiness are to be found in the preference which he gives to those things which, in the estimation of reason, are the more eligible over those which are the less eligible. These natural good things, and the scale in which they stand, are described by Adam Smith in his 'Theory of Moral Sentiments,' part vii. sec. 2, chap. 1, p, 215, &c., ed. London, 1792.
7. In explanation of the second of the conformities spoken of in the ethical scheme of the Stoics, our conformity, namely, to the law of society, a few words have to be said. The law of society signifies simply the means, whatever these may be, by which society is best held together, and its general interests most effectually promoted. Reason and experience, that is, either personal observation or knowledge gathered from the history of mankind in the different eras of civilisation, these are the guides which will point out to us what the means are by which the good of society may be promoted, and its interests advanced. Hence it is incumbent on the wise man to listen to reason and experience, and to adopt and use to the utmost of his power whatever expedients these lights may reveal as conducive to the general good, taking care, by the strict governance of his own passions, to avoid all those excesses by which the social order is violated, and the wellbeing of the state impaired. Should, however, the constitution of society be such that its amendment is hopeless, in that case it is the duty of the wise man to adjust himself as well as he can to the adverse circumstances in which he is placed, to make the best of a bad position, and to acquiesce in the arrangements by which he is environed, not doubting that Providence has some wise end to fulfil in permitting the continuance of a state of things so much at variance with the short-sighted wisdom of man. For this, a resignation to the will of the Supreme Ruler of the universe, a bringing of the human will into subjection to whatever He may have ordained, this conformity with the divine law is what the Stoics inculcate as the highest species of virtue. So that, in laying down a conformity with nature as the rule of life, and as the road to virtue and happiness, the doctrine of the Stoics is, that the wise man first conforms to his own nature, adjusts himself in such a way as not to violate the economy of his own constitution; secondly, he conforms to the law of society, that is to say, he so adjusts himself to the world by which he is surrounded, as not to violate by any passionate excess the fundamental principles by which society is held together, and if he cannot amend or improve this society, he at any rate takes care not to make it worse than it is; and, lastly, he seeks to conform himself to that sovereign will, of which the whole constitution of the universe is only the manifestation, and to fulfil and be in consonance with which must therefore be the highest virtue. Such is the threefold idea of that temper of mind which constituted virtue, and to which the Stoics conceived that it was possible for man not perhaps to attain, but certainly to approximate. And they argued that if this resigned and fortified disposition of the soul were attained, it could not be destroyed nor impaired, nor could its happiness be taken away by anything external to itself. No misfortunes could shake the soul of their ideal sage, no perturbations of passion could overthrow his reason. Hence their doctrine that pain was no evil, and that all calamities were indifferent. Their ideal wise man carried his own happiness with him in the subjugation of his passions, in his ceaseless endeavours to promote the welfare of others, in his perfect acquiescence in whatever fortune might have in store for him, and in his thorough conviction that all things, in the long-run, worked together for good.
8. The main and central idea of the moral philosophy of the Stoics may be presented in this way. The universe, they may be supposed to say—indeed this is the very essence of their teaching—the universe is a vast machine pervaded by an almighty reason, which directs all its ongoings. This great spirit of reason permeates all things, giving law and order to the parts and the whole. But man, too, man, who is a part of this mighty machine, man, too, is endowed with reason, and hence it is his business also to diffuse law and order as far as his power can reach; and this he does, or this at least he ought to do, by striving to act in conformity with the laws of his own being, with the laws by which social order is preserved and promoted, and the laws by which God's universe is regulated and maintained. The individual man is thus like a small peg or pivot in some gigantic machine, which small pivot has to attend to and govern itself, first, in reference to its own structure; secondly, in reference to the parts of the machine with which it is more immediately in contact; and, thirdly, in reference to the whole machine to which it belongs. When this is done, then, and then only, does this small peg or pivot fulfil the end for which it was designed by the creator of the machine; and when man demeans himself in an analogous manner, then, and then only, does he fulfil the end for which he was designed by the great Artificer of that mighty machine called the universe; then, and only then, is his virtue perfect and his happiness secured.
9. The exposition which I gave you yesterday of the leading principles of the Stoical ethics, may enable you to understand those strong and somewhat startling assertions which have been called by Cicero and others the Paradoxes of the Stoics. It will be found that these assertions are the necessary consequences of the premises from which they start; that perhaps these paradoxes are not so paradoxical after all; and that although they may appear at first sight to revolt the common sense of mankind, they are not altogether irreconcilable with reason and with truth. Of these paradoxes it may be sufficient if I make mention of three.
10. Among the paradoxes or lofty assertions of the Stoics, there was one to the effect that nothing could happen contrary to the will of the wise man. Now that position, from what we know of their ideal wise man, is perfectly intelligible, for the highest endeavour of the wise man is to conform himself to the divine will; and therefore whatever he sees to be inevitable, that is, to be manifestly appointed by the supreme will, becomes to him the object of his cheerful acquiescence, or rather of his desire. Whatever his reason told him was ordained by God, to that his will conformed, because what he sought for and desired above all things was the accomplishment of the divine will. With this will his will worked in accordance, and therefore, inasmuch as reason assured him that nothing that happened happened contrary to the will of God, but that everything took place in accordance to that will; so nothing that happened could happen contrary to the wise man's will, inasmuch as his will had been brought into conformity with the will and designs of Omnipotence. The Stoics held that if the wise man, in endeavouring to attain to perfect wisdom, that is, to make the divine will habitually his own, permitted any opposition to that will to exist within him, he acted absurdly. Again compare Adam Smith, p. 221: "A wise man never complains of the destiny of Providence and fate." There is, then, nothing so very paradoxical in the assertion that nothing can happen contrary to the will of the wise man: Christianity proclaims the same truth, and in terms equally emphatic.
11. Another paradox of the Stoics was that pain is no evil. To suppose that in this assertion they meant to maintain that pain is not painful, is not disagreeable, is not to be avoided, would be to do them grievous wrong. They merely meant to say that natural or physical pain was not moral evil, that calamity was not identical with wickedness, that there was a difference between sin and suffering. To the truly wise man of the Stoics there was no evil except moral evil; that is, except vice; that is, again, except some derangement either of a man's own system, or of the universal system, brought about by his own voluntary act. Pain might arise out of such derangement, but this pain was not itself evil; the evil lay in the derangement or rather in the voluntary act by which it had been brought about. The pain was the effect of the evil, but was not itself the evil: the evil was, as I have said, the derangement, and the act which produced it. Then, again, when pain or misfortune overtook a man, not through his own misdeeds, but through the inscrutable decrees of Providence, such pain was not to be regarded by the wise man as evil, for to him there is no evil except vice, no good except virtue. And it is obvious that such pain or calamity is not in itself moral evil; it is not wickedness, it is only distress, distress either of body or of mind, and by the endurance and resignation which it calls forth it may be the means of eliciting the loftiest virtues of the soul.
12. A third paradox of the Stoics is that they inculcated apathy, ἀπάθεια, as the highest condition of the wise and virtuous mind. This is a point of some importance, for their doctrine of apathy (ἀπάθεια) has frequently been misunderstood. By apathy they are frequently supposed to mean an entire deadening of the affections, a total suppression or extirpation of the passions; in short a state of cold and heartless insensibility. That some of the Stoics, both by their theory and their practice, may have afforded grounds for such an interpretation of their doctrine, is quite possible. But it is still more certain that the Stoical apathy admits of a very different interpretation, and that no such paradoxical doctrine as that which is here indicated was taught by the genuine philosopher of that sect. Let us inquire, then, what the Stoics meant by apathy.
13. The Greek word πάθος, which is usually translated by the word passion, is always rendered by Cicero, when speaking in the language of the Stoics, by the term perturbatio, or perturbation. In considering the philosophy of the Stoics, the word πάθος should always be held equivalent to perturbation. The definition, indeed, of the term πάθος, as given by the Stoics, was ὁρμή πλεονάζουσα, translated by Cicero appetitus vehementior. Πάθος means, not passion in a state of moderation, but passion in a state of excess, a tendency or motion of the soul which is excessive and beyond bounds. This explanation of the word πάθος as a perturbation or state of mind which was always in excess, is confirmed by Stobæus, who, in his collection of philosophical fragments, says that "Zeno does not call a πάθος something merely capable by nature to pass into excess, but something actually in excess already, or having its essence not in mere capacity, but in actuality."—(Ecl. Eth., p. 159.)
14. Apathy therefore means, not an entire extinction of passion, but merely a liberation from immoderate and excessive passion. This being explained, it follows that their wise man, the man of perfect character, must of necessity be ἀπαθής, apathetic or void of perturbation, not in the sense of being devoid of all feeling, but in the sense of being free from those disturbances which cloud the reason and pervert the judgment.
15. That this was the sense in which the Stoics understood the term apathy we have their authority for saying, as given to us by Diogenes Laertius. He says, "According to the Stoics, the wise man is apathetic; that is, is free from perturbation, by being superior to error or false judgment; not, as many people (absurdly) interpret their statement, by being superior to all sense, emotion, feeling, or affection. The Stoics, indeed, have specially guarded themselves against this misinterpretation of their doctrine.” "There is also," says Epictetus, one of the most distinguished writers, "there is also another sort of apathetic man who is bad, who is the same in character as the hard and inflexible." This, however, is not the apathetic man of the Stoics. Epictetus goes on to say, "I am not to be apathetic like a stone or a statue; but I am withal to observe relations, both the natural and adventitious, as the man of religion, as the son, as the brother, as the father, and as the citizen."—(Arr. Epict., 1. 3, c. 2, p. 359.)
16. In considering, then, this third paradox of the Stoics, which represents a passionless or apathetic condition as the highest virtue of the soul, we must remember that their apathy did not consist in insensibility, or in a deadness of feeling; it did not consist in an extinction or eradication of the passions; On the contrary, in the character of their virtuous man they included rational desire and aversion; they included love and parental affection, friendship, and a general charity and benevolence to all mankind; they considered it as a duty arising out of our very nature not to neglect the welfare of public society, but to be ever ready, according to our station or capacity, to act either the magistrate or the private citizen. Their apathy was no more than a freedom from perturbations, from irrational and excessive agitations of the soul; it was an antagonism put forth against the passions, not with a view of extinguishing them, but merely of preventing them from running into excess; and consequently that paradoxical apathy commonly laid to their charge, and in the demolishing of which so many imaginary triumphs have been achieved, was an imaginary apathy for which they were in no way accountable.
17. Epicurus, the founder of the Epicurean school of philosophy, and from whose name the common and somewhat opprobrious word epicure is derived, was born in the island of Samos, in the year 342 B.C. We may assume him to have been in his prime about the year 300. He was thus contemporary with Zeno, and the two schools of Stoicism and Epicurism arose and flourished simultaneously in ancient Greece. Epicurus came to Athens when he was 18 years old. After residing here for a short time, and studying probably under Xenocrates, who was then at the head of the Platonic school of philosophy, Epicurus went to Colophon, and afterwards to Mytilene and Lampsacus, where he was engaged for five years in studying and in teaching philosophy. In the year 306 B.C., at the age of 35, he returned to Athens, and established a philosophical school in a garden which he had purchased near that city. These gardens, the κῆποι Ἐπικούρου, have become as famous as the στοὰ or porch of the Stoics, or as the ἀκαδήμεια of Plato and his followers, or as the Lyceum of Aristotle and the Peripatetics. In these groves Epicurus spent the remainder of his life surrounded by numerous friends and pupils. His mode of life was simple and temperate, and the aspersions of satirists, and the calumnies of those who describe him as a man devoted to sensual pleasures, are not entitled to the smallest degree of credit. However erroneous his doctrines may have been, and whatever mischief they may have occasioned, the character of the philosopher himself seems to have been very unjustly impeached by the voice of slander. He died in the year 270 B.C., at the age of 72, after a painful and lingering illness, which he endured with a philosophical fortitude which a Stoic might have envied and admired, but which he could not have surpassed.
18. In the present lecture I shall endeavour to give you some account of the moral philosophy of Epicurus, exhibiting his opinions rather as they stand contrasted with those of the Stoics than as they are in themselves, and irrespective of that contrast. The contrast which I propose to draw, and of which I have already given you the outline, between Stoicism and Epicurism, will perhaps bring out the respective doctrines of these sects, or at least the principles and scope of their systems, in a clearer light than we could obtain if we studied them in their isolation, and out of relation to each other.
19. As Zeno had adopted in part the doctrines of a previous sect, the Cynics, so the ethical theory of Epicurus and his followers was founded on the principles of an antecedent sect called the Cyrenaics, who held that pleasure is the summum bonum, the end of all human endeavour. The lines of Horace are well known, in which he represents himself as an eclectic in moral philosophy.—Ep. I. i. 14.
" Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri,
Quo me cunque rapit tempestas deferor hospes:
Nunc agilis fio et mersor civilibus undis
Virtutis veræ custos rigidusque satelles;
Nunc in Aristippi furtim præcepta relabor
Et mihi res, non me rebus, subjungere conor."
Or, as it is in Pope's imitation—
" But ask not to what doctors I apply,
Sworn to no master, of no sect am I:
As drives the storm at any door I knock,
And house with Montaigne now, or now with Locke;
Sometimes a patriot, active in debate,
Mix with the world, and battle for the State.
Free as young Littleton her cause pursue,
Still true to virtue, and as warm as true;
Sometimes with Aristippus or St Paul,
Indulge my candour, and grow all to all;
Back to my native moderation glide,
And win my way by yielding to the tide."
The last line of Horace seems to give expression rather to a Stoical than to an Epicurean principle. It might mean, I endeavour to bend or subdue things to myself rather than myself to things; I endeavour to rise superior to circumstances, and refuse to allow my happiness and peace of mind to be dependent on the caprices of fortune. It might mean that; but that is a Stoical position, which Horace in this line is very far from intending to express. The meaning, therefore, must be, I endeavour to make outward things and events minister to my pleasure and contentment. Instead of submitting to be a mere tool in the hands of circumstances, I endeavour to take these circumstances into my own hands, and to convert them into the instruments of my happiness.
20. The radical difference between Stoicism and Epicurism is one which has announced itself in metaphysics no less than in morals, in speculative no less than in practical philosophy. The distinction is expressed in the antithetical terms feeling and thought, sensation and reason, sensualism and naturalism, passion and intellect; and when looked at from a moral and religious point of view, in the antithesis of the flesh and the spirit, carnal-mindedness and spiritual-mindedness. All these expressions point to a distinction which has divided the world, and the adjustment and explanation of which has occupied the attention of philosophers, both speculative and practical, from the earliest times.
21. Stoicism and Epicurism have their roots in this distinction, and are to be regarded merely as a new and marked form in which the distinction was propounded and enforced. The Stoic assigns pre-eminence to thought, reason, the spirit. The Epicurean gives the chief place to feeling, sensation, the flesh. When Stoicism is carried to excess, it leads to pride, and asceticism, and pharisaism. When Epicurism is carried to excess, it degenerates into effeminacy and carnality.
22. But we should form a very erroneous estimate of these two schemes if we looked at them merely in their excess. Pride and austerity are the abuses of Stoicism. Effeminacy and sensuality are the vices of Epicurism. By looking to these abuses we certainly obtain some notion of the tendencies of these systems, but we gain no insight into their true principles and essential characteristics.
23. To form a correct estimate, then, of Stoicism and Epicurism we must study them, not as they appear when carried to an extreme, but as they develop themselves when inculcated with propriety and moderation. Let us ask, first of all, in what respect they agree? They agree in holding that happiness, of one kind or another, is the great end of man. With both of them happiness or satisfaction is the summum bonum. They further agree in holding that a life according to nature is the means, and the only means, by which happiness, the summum bonum, may be attained. They further agree in holding that a life according to nature is a life of virtue. It is a life of virtue, of rectitude, because it is the right way leading to the true end of man, viz., to felicity. Nature has fixed happiness as the end of man; a life, therefore, according to nature must lead to this end; and a life according to nature must be a virtuous, that is, a rightly directed life, because it leads to this end. The points of agreement, then, are these: 1st, The end of man is happiness; 2dly, The mean to this end is the life according to nature; 3dly, The life according to nature is virtue, and is right, because it leads us right to the end for which we were destined by nature, viz., happiness. On the other hand, the life adverse to nature is vicious, because it leads us away from our proper destination, and causes us to miss the end for which we were created.
24. These being the chief points of agreement between the Stoics and the Epicureans, we have now to consider wherein it is that they differ. They differ in their opinions concerning happiness, and concerning the nature of man, and also concerning the character of virtue; and these are very important points in which to differ. Agreeing that happiness is the end, that the life of nature is the means, and that the life of nature and the life of virtue are coincident or identical, they by no means agree in regard to what happiness is, or in regard to what man's nature is, nor in regard to what man's virtue is. All, or nearly all, moralists agree in holding that happiness is, in some sense, the end of man; that the life of nature and of virtue are the means to this end. The question on which much difference of opinion has prevailed is, What is this happiness which we admit to be the end of man? What is this natural and virtuous life which we admit to be the means to this end? It is a question, not about the that, but about the what. On this question moralists have differed widely, and among them the Stoics and the Epicureans have more particularly differed.
25. We ask, then, in what respect do the Stoics and the Epicureans differ in their doctrines respecting happiness, and nature, and virtue? We shall ascertain the fundamental point of disagreement between them if we revert to the distinction referred to a short way back, the distinction between feeling and thought, sensation and reason, the flesh and the spirit, or, if you choose so to express it, the body and the soul. When a man says, as all men do, that happiness is the chief end of man, does he mean that man's chief end is the happiness of the feelings, the happiness of sensation, the satisfaction of the passions, of the flesh, of the body? or does he mean that man's chief end is the happiness of thought, of reason, of the spirit, of the soul? The latter should be rather called the perfecting, than the happiness, of his nature; but let us call it happiness at present. You will observe that different kinds of happiness (or at least a happiness of which the ingredients are combined in different proportions) will be indicated according to the answers we return to this question. Again, does the nature of man consist in feeling, in sensation, in the passions, in the flesh? or does it consist in thought, in reason, in intellect in the spirit? According as this question is answered the nature of man will be differently understood and interpreted, and a life conformable to nature will mean two different things according as the question is answered in the one way or in the other. Again, when we say that the virtuous life is coincident or identical with the natural life, do we mean that it is coincident with the life according to feeling, to sensation, to the flesh? or do we mean that the virtuous life is identical with the life according to thought, to reason, to the spirit? And here, too, according as this question is answered do we obtain different conceptions in regard to the character and nature of virtue.
26. Now we shall obtain a broad, and general, and fundamental conception of the distinctive characteristics of Stoicism and Epicurism, if we regard them as taking up these questions and answering them in opposite ways. According to Stoicism, it is the happiness of thought, of reason, the satisfaction of the spirit which is the great end of man. According to Epicurism, it is the, happiness of the feelings, of sensation, of the fresh, which is the great end of man. This at least is the indispensable condition or groundwork of happiness. According to Stoicism, man's proper nature is thought, reason, the spirit, and a life conformable to what these prescribe is a life of nature and of virtue. According to Epicurism, man's proper nature is feeling, sensation, the flesh; and a life conformable to these, not recklessly, but prudently conformable to these, is a life of nature. Again, according to Stoicism, the virtuous life is coincident with the natural life when it is identical with the life according to thought, to reason, and to the spirit; while, according to Epicurism, the virtuous life is coincident with the natural life when it is in prudent and properly regulated conformity with feeling, sensation, and the flesh. Thus Stoicism inculcates that rational happiness, the happiness of reason, spiritual felicity, is the great end of man; their happiness is, perfection; that the life of reason, the life according to the spirit, being the life of nature, is the means to this end, and that the rational life is the virtuous life. On the other hand, Epicurism inculcates that sensational happiness, the happiness of the feelings, the satisfaction of the passions, bodily felicity, is the great end of man; that the life of agreeable sensations being the life according to nature, is the means by which this end is attained; and that thus the life of prudent pleasure is the virtuous life. The whole difference between them thus hinges ultimately upon the distinction between thought and feeling, reason and sensation, the spirit and the flesh. On the ground of this distinction they may be understood to take up opposite positions, the one party founding their system on what they conceive to be the superior claims of the soul, and the other party founding their scheme on what they hold to be the more stringent demands of the body.
27. Assuming happiness to be in both cases the goal, we perceive that the happiness which the Stoics represent as the end at which man should aim, is very different from the felicity which the Epicureans propose as his aim. The Stoical happiness is a perfection of the mind in which we rise above the thraldom of the passions. It is an inner life in which we are conscious of our intellectual freedom and independency. It is a victorious antagonism exerted against sensation, passion, and desire; and in this victory our true being is realised. And thus our wellbeing consists, not in the gratification of our natural impulses, but in the limits which, by an act of freedom and of will, we impose on these impulses, a limit which prevents, them from monopolising us completely, and which affords room for our free personality to be developed "and to work along with them. It is not in the passion, or in its indulgence, that our happiness and perfection consist: it is in the limit, the check, which, in our very character as rational and conscious beings, we impose upon the passion: it is in this that our true wellbeing is to be looked for. Epicurism, on the other hand, makes our happiness to centre, not in the check which the passion receives, but in the passion itself which is checked. Epicurism admits that our passions must be restrained, restrained on account of prudential considerations, or because their overindulgence would entail on us a balance of lasting misery greater than the transient happiness which that over-indulgence had bestowed. Both systems agree in holding that the passions must be held in check and prevented from running into excess. But they differ in this respect in their doctrines concerning happiness. It is in virtue of the check, says the Stoic, that man attains to felicity. The limit is the essential constituent in man's wellbeing. The passion itself is the accidental, the non-essential The limit is the important factor. The passion itself and its indulgence are insignificant. In other words, man's happiness is composed of two elements: a desire or impulse, and a limit or boundary to that impulse. I maintain, says the Stoic, that the limit, and not the impulse, is the primary constituent, is the more important element of the two. On the other hand, the Epicurean argues that the passion, desire, or impulse, and not the limit, is the fundamental and essential constituent. This is the primary element; the check which the impulse receives is accidental, and non-essential to the constitution of our happiness. It is due entirely to prudential considerations, and is not involved, as the Stoics maintain, in the very conception of rational happiness and perfection. By keeping in mind these two factors, the limit and the passion, as the constituents of happiness, and by considering that the Stoics make the former, and the Epicureans the latter, to be the essential ingredient, you will obtain, I think, a sufficiently clear conception of their respective doctrines in regard to happiness. This view at least seems to me to lay open the fundamental difference of the two doctrines.
28. To illustrate this difference, you may suppose a dispute to arise as to whether the matter or the form of a statue be the more essential of the two in the composition of the statue. One man might argue that the matter, the marble, was the essential and primary element; that the form, the limit, was the secondary and accidental factor. Another man might argue that the form, the limiting outline, was the essential, and that the matter, the marble, was the non-essential, element. So in regard to happiness. Is it the matter, the passions and their indulgence, is it this that makes us happy? or do we owe our happiness to the form, the limit, the restraint by which our passions are controlled? Epicurism contends for the first of these positions, Stoicism argues in favour of the second.
29. I cannot but think that the Stoical doctrine has here a great advantage over the Epicurean, in being founded on a deeper and truer insight into the constitution of human nature. At first sight the Epicurean opinion seems more consonant with our customary convictions. It seems more agreeable to truth and to common-sense to say that our happiness arises out of the gratification of our desires themselves, and depends on our sensations themselves, than to say that it is caused, not by desire or passion itself, but by the limitation of passion and desire. It seems somewhat paradoxical to affirm that it is because both passion and pleasure are bounded, and not because they are either passion or pleasure, that they conduce to happiness. Nevertheless, paradoxical as this position may seem, and however much it may be at variance with our ordinary habits of thought, it is, I believe, profoundly and philosophically true, and it receives ample confirmation from the facts of our constitution, when these are properly examined and understood. This in particular must be borne in mind, that our very existence as self-conscious and rational beings is brought about by that act of free activity which limits our natural passions and prevents them from monopolising us completely, and to the exclusion, we may say, of our proper selves. Therefore our happiness depends on this limitation, inasmuch as our very rational existence depends upon it.
30. This Stoical doctrine, that it is not passion which is essentially good, or its indulgence which is essentially conducive to our wellbeing, but that it is the limit which is essentially good, the check which the passion receives that is essentially conducive to wellbeing, this doctrine is, I think, merely another form of Aristotle's doctrine of the μεσότης, or the mean. Virtue, according to Aristotle, is a mean between two extremes, both of which are vices, or at least irregularities; in other words, impose a limit on a vice, and you produce a virtue; set bounds to rashness, or set bounds to cowardice, and in either case you produce courage. In the same way, all our passions and pleasures are in themselves irregular and boundless; they are in themselves without form and without law; they stretch into the chaotic, the infinite, the evil. Impose upon them a law and a limit, and out of the two, out of the passion and the limit you create a virtue. Virtue is thus generated, not out of the passion itself, but out of the law or limit which holds it in check. Happiness, too, our proper happiness as rational beings, is also generated, not out of the pleasure which accompanies the indulgence of our passions, but out of the limit which prevents that pleasure from being carried too far. The essence, then, of virtue and of happiness is to be placed, not in passion or in pleasure itself, but in the limiting act by which passion is subjugated, and by which pleasure is moderated and restrained.
31. I have said, in the conclusion of my last lecture, that our happiness might be regarded as made up of two elements, the operation of our passions and desires, or natural impulses, on the one hand, and a limit, or check, or measure imposed on that operation, on the other hand. The passion without the limit is lawless and unbounded; viewed in itself, or per se, it is to be regarded as a form of insanity, and as not conducive to felicity. Again, the limit without the passion is empty and unsubstantial; viewed per se, it is a form without any contents, just as the passion per se is contents without any form: each, therefore, is required in order to supplement the other. The question is, which is the more essential element of the two in the formation of our wellbeing? The Stoics, as I understand them, maintain the limit is the essential element, and that the passion itself is the accidental constituent, just as we might suppose a person to hold that the beauty of a statue was essentially due to the form, and not to the matter of which it was composed; while the Epicureans, on the contrary, maintain that the passion is the essential element, and that the limit is the accidental constituent, just as we may suppose another person to maintain that the beauty of a statue essentially depends, not on the form, but on the matter of which it is composed.
32. This difference of opinion in regard to the constitution of happiness or wellbeing—a difference of opinion which goes to this extent, that the Stoic regards as essential what the Epicurean regards as accidental, while, conversely, the Epicurean regards as essential what the Stoic regards as accidental—this difference of opinion in regard to happiness is founded on a difference of opinion in regard to the nature of man, and it leads at once to a difference of opinion in regard to virtue and in regard to the practical conduct of life. Let me speak of these in their order; and, first, in regard to the difference of opinion between the Stoics and the Epicureans as to the nature of man, and as to the life which is conformable to that nature.
33. According to the Epicureans, the essential staple of man's nature consists of sensations, appetites, passions, and desires. These constitute man's proper nature. They do not deny that thought and reason are also a part of man's nature, but these they regard as accidental and secondary; and accordingly a life prudently conformable to these impulses is a life of nature. It is a life according to nature, because it is a life which leads to the end for which nature designed us, to that happiness, namely, which springs from a prudent indulgence in the passions.
34. On the other hand, according to the Stoics, the essential staple of man's nature consists, not of his sensations, appetites, passions, and desires, but of thought and reason; in other words, of the limits by which these are held in check. It is the limit, and not the passion, which constitutes man's proper and peculiar nature; and accordingly a life conformable, not to the impulses which urge us on, but rather to the restraints which hold us back, a life conformable, not to the driving principle, but to the controlling principle, of our constitution, is the life of nature. It is a life according to nature, because it is a life which leads to the end for which nature designed us, to that happiness, namely, which springs from a limitation and subjugation of the passions.
35. Such, then, in a very few words, seems to be the leading difference of opinion between the Stoics and Epicureans as to the nature of man, and as to the life which is conformable to that nature. This difference turns on the same principle as that on which their difference of opinion as to man's happiness hinges. The one party regards as essential what the other party regards as accidental, and conversely. Just as the Epicurean holds that the passion and not the limit is the essential element in the constitution of man's happiness, so he holds that the passion and not the limit is the essential element in man's nature, and in the life which is in conformity with that nature; and again, just as the Stoic holds that the limit and not the passion is the essential element in The constitution of man's happiness, so he holds that the limit and not the passion is the essential element in man's nature, and in the life which is conformable thereto.
36. In the next place, the Stoics and the Epicureans differ in their opinions as to virtue, and as to the practical rule of life; and this difference turns, as before, on the same principle as that on which their difference of opinion as to man's happiness, and as to man's nature, hinges. In their estimate of virtue, and in laying down the practical rule of life, the one party regards as essential what the other regards as accidental and conversely. According to the Epicureans, virtue consists in an indulgence of the passions in so far as prudence permits; and their rule of life would be, Indulge the passions, but from motives of prudence indulge them only in moderation. Here a yielding to the passions is inculcated as the essential and primary circumstance in the practice of virtue. The limit, the resistance, to the passion is set forth as the accidental and secondary circumstance. According to the Stoics, on the other hand, virtue consists in a limitation or subjugation of the passions, in so far as our nature allows; and their rule of life would be, Restrain or moderate the passions, but on prudential grounds (the wiser among them may he supposed to say)—on prudential grounds, do not carry this restraint too far. Do not carry it so far as to extinguish or eradicate the passions altogether. Here the subjugation of the passion is set forth as the primary and essential circumstance in the practice of virtue, while the indulgence of the passion is set forth as the secondary and non-essential circumstance. The Epicurean, regarding the passion and not the restraint as the essential in the practice of virtue, lays the emphasis on the indulgence, and may be supposed to say, Indulge the passions, subject to certain limitations. The Stoic, again, who regards the restraint and not the passion as the essential in the practice of virtue, lays the emphasis on the restraint, and may be supposed to say, Restrain the passions, subject to certain indulgences. In the latter case restraint is laid down as the rule and indulgence as the exception; in the former case indulgence is laid down as the rule and restraint as the exception.
37. Taking this view of the fundamental characteristics by which Stoicism and Epicurism are distinguished from each other, we may easily understand how liable either system is to be driven to an extreme. Although the two systems are founded on very different principles, and arise out of estimates of human nature essentially distinct, inasmuch as the one makes man's true nature to centre in the spirit and the reason, and the other in the flesh and the passions, they have, nevertheless, much in common, in so far as their practical instructions are concerned. They both lead to the same result in inculcating, as they both do, the government and subordination of the passions. At the same time, from the explanations given—explanations, you will bear in mind, which turn on the one party regarding as unessential what the other party regards as essential—from these explanations you may, as I have said, readily understand how susceptible either system is of being pushed to an extreme. Let the accidental in either case be regarded as of no account, or as a thing to be got entirely rid of, and let the essential be made all in all, and you have either system, as the case may be, developed in its most extreme form. Let the Stoic insist, not mainly but exclusively, on the limit, the restraint, as that which should be encouraged and enforced, and you obtain a system of thoroughgoing asceticism, a system of penance and mortification of the flesh. This is the extreme into which Stoicism has run in the fastings and vigils and other austere practices of certain religious bodies. This is the form in which it has shown itself among certain orders of Roman Catholic monks, and also to some extent among the Protestant Puritans of our own country. In these bodies we frequently see Stoicism carried to an excess, because they have made the essential to be all in all, and have allowed no influence whatever to the accidental. The passions are extinguished, and the limits are set up to rule and to reign alone. On the other hand, let the Epicurean insist, not mainly but exclusively, on the passions as that which should be indulged in, and you obtain a system of thoroughgoing sensuality. This is the extreme into which Epicurism has run in many a profligate period of the world's history. Here, too, Epicurism has run into excess, because it has made what it regards as the essential to be all in all, and has allowed no influence whatever to what it regards as the accidental. As in extreme Stoicism the limit absorbs and annihilates the passion, so in extreme Epicurism the passion swallows up and destroys the limit. The restraints are extinguished, and the passions are set up to rule and to reign alone.
38. It might now be shown, in conclusion, from a survey of the human constitution, that the Stoics are more in the, right than the Epicureans; that the facts of our nature, when rightly investigated and understood, bear out the Stoical doctrines to a much greater extent than they do those of the Epicureans. A careful examination of our nature shows us that there is a vital and radical antagonism between our sensations, passions, and desires on the one hand, and our reason and power of thought on the other; our power of thought as shown more particularly in that act through which our personality and self-consciousness are realised. This antagonism shows that our sensations, passions, and desires, so far from constituting our true and essential nature, do rather, on the contrary, tend to prevent that true nature from being realised; while that true nature, our will and personality, in actualising itself, displaces to some extent our sensations, passions, and desires, and abridges their influence, which would otherwise be overwhelming. But I have already said enough on these points, and I think that by means of your own reflections you may be able to work out more fully for yourselves the views which I have been engaged in laying before you.