One cannot fail to be struck with the marvellous insight into the holiest truths revealed in these lines. A candid mind must acknowledge with thankfulness how graciously God was training the mind of man for the reception of the mystery of godliness unfolded in the Gospel. This fact St Paul acknowledged. He told the Athenians that he was come to bring them further intelligence of a Being, whom they, as the words of some of their poets proved, acknowledged as the Lord and Father of all; whom they were desirous of knowing more fully. Yet if we read the writings of the Stoics we cannot but be saddened by the reflection that such views of God were exceptional; that such desires to know more of him were evanescent, if they existed at all in the minds of some. These feelings were the work of some inner power, not the result of their system of philosophy. The theory of the universe which this system taught was one that did not bow down the human soul in humble obedience and in abasement before the Almighty; but rather caused a sense of pride and self-dependence at variance with this feeling. Hence we meet with such expressions as we find urged against the sect by Plutarch[[17]], who informs us that Chrysippus said that “the sage is not less useful to Zeus than Zeus is to the sage.” Similarly, how often are there recurring in various forms such a sentiment as we find, for instance, in Marcus Antoninus[[18]], ὅτι ὁ ἑκάστου νοῦς Θεὸς, καὶ ἐκεῖθεν ἐρρύηκε. While this was a cause of pride, it was also one of sadness. Each man felt, in a great measure, left to himself. He was an atom broken off from a vast whole, and would, bye and bye, be restored to his former union. But he did not feel in this life that there was an intimate personal loving union with a wise and holy being, who was his personal friend and father.
This brings us to another point in which Christianity and Stoicism were a contrast, yet at first sight not very far removed one from the other. Both allowed and taught an universal law, by which all nature and all events are regulated; but while the one teaches that this universal law is the wisdom of an infallible Lord constantly superintending and ordering all things well, the other held that all things were arranged according to the decrees of a blind and unalterable fate. The Apostle of Christ taught the Athenians that there was no truth in the wild speculation of the Epicurean, who held that all things happened by chance: but he brought before them, as a ruler, a being full of intelligence and constantly superintending the course of events; not some inexorable fate. He told them of one who, having created of one blood all nations that dwell on the face of the earth, arranged the period of their existence and fixed the bounds of their habitation. And He did this all in wisdom, with the intention that all men might seek Him, and find their happiness in the knowledge of His goodness and by participating in His love. Contrasted with this was the doctrine of fatalism which the Stoics taught. All things proceeded, they said, from destiny, which was omnipotent. To its decrees both gods and men must bow. From its power not the highest even were exempt. This destiny was “the law according to which what has been, has been; what is, is; and what shall be, shall be[[19]].” Instead of an overruling Providence constantly superintending the affairs of the universe, there was a law binding the highest God, as well as the lowest in creation. So we read in Seneca (De Providentia, cap. VI.): “Eadem necessitas et Deos alligat. Irrevocabilis divina pariter atque humana cursus vehit. Ille ipse omnium conditor ac rector scripsit quidem Fata, sed sequitur. Semper paret, semel jussit.” The Stoical doctrine then was that God himself is a servant to the necessity of the material scheme; that He is bound by eternal decrees; that he could not have created an atom different from what it is, and cannot change anything merely according to what He may will in the future. So Cicero quotes a Greek poet, and puts these words as his meaning, “Quod fore paratum est, id summum exuperat Jovem.” Indeed the first Stoics adopted this fatalism as their belief, and seem to have held firmly as a truth, what Herodotus states, δοῦλος Θεὸς ἀνάγκης. We shall see that this necessitarian scheme had an influence, of no small extent, on certain parts of the Church of Christ in after ages.
I must proceed here, however, to point out another aspect in which, though they seem to have had the same end before them, namely, the raising man to moral excellence, yet Christianity and Stoicism differed entirely—the means whereby human perfection is to be attained. Christianity pointed men to the way of humility and self-renunciation. Stoicism pointed them to the perfectibility of man by his own exertion, without trusting on divine aid. St Paul preached Jesus to the enquiring minds of Greece; Jesus, as a Saviour—Jesus, as an Example to those who would attain holiness of life—as a pattern of a perfect man. Now no lesson is more plainly taught in the Gospel of Christ, than the truth that penitence and humility are the necessary precursors of holiness and true glory. The Stoic would look on repentance as a confession that he had failed in his philosophy. It was no part of his scheme to lower himself in order to rise. Much less had he any idea of trusting in another’s merits, and in another’s self-sacrifice, in order to have any chance at all of becoming perfect for ever. But then, his idea of perfection was perfection as a philosopher in this life. The glorious hope of an eternal future, in which he would take part as a purified being, freed from all sin and defilement by the power of the omnipotent Father, and by the furnace through which he had to pass in struggling during a lifetime with temptation and with affliction, was no part of his creed. Like the Christian, he had a lofty purpose, but his purpose was confined to this life; to be conformed to the course of nature; to rise by his philosophy to a region of indifference about outward things. His end was attained, he thought, if he subdued his own nature; if he learnt to bear, without flinching, whatever might cause him pain or inconvenience; if what men commonly call natural feelings and affections were done violence to, without compunction, that he might thus attain to conformity with the rule of universal nature. All this he did, or professed to do, of his own power. He did not require a power from on high, to forgive his errors, and to give him strength to be virtuous. Rather, he was to be virtuous as a means of making God propitious. Just as Seneca says[[20]], “Inter bonos viros ac Deum amicitia est, conciliante virtute.” So that between this system and the Christian doctrine, though they both professedly inculcate a life of virtue and self-denial, there is an impassable gulph. Stoicism raised pride in human excellence into a part of its teaching. Indeed, the Stoic was, as has been justly observed, a Pharisee among heathens. He prided himself upon being not as others around him; upon being better and more exalted in virtue than they; and therefore upon being nearer God, and more worthy of the love of the Most High. Now Christianity goes on exactly the opposite principle to this. She teaches men that they must obtain the divine favour and aid, not by means of their innate superiority, but as the means of rising to holiness and virtue. We cannot take any steps at all in true moral excellence, till we are possessed of the love of God. This is the foundation of Christian truth. The divine life must have its beginning in repentance and renunciation of self, in deep humility and consequent trust in divine aid, given to all who ask it for Christ’s sake; because God is love. We shall see, nevertheless, that the views of many Christians have been tinged with the Stoic belief, that by self-mortification, and even by trying to uproot natural affections and feelings, planted in man by God himself for wise ends, the human soul renders herself worthier of the friendship of heaven. We hear St Paul, however, setting before the Athenians this great duty, first of all, that they feel and acknowledge themselves in error, in order to amendment of life; and that they trust in the merits of another, in order to atone for their own demerits. “He commandeth all men everywhere to repent.” This was the testimony of the messenger of the true God. From the mention of the resurrection of Jesus, immediately after this, and the manner in which that resurrection is spoken of, it would seem that St Paul gave the Athenians some particulars of the Redeemer’s life and death either on Mars’ Hill or in the Agora. Now the life of Christ would teach the Stoic, that true philosophy is not trying to eradicate human feelings and instincts, but controlling them. Nothing is so striking and so lovely in the divine life of the Son of God, as its humanity. He is a “man with men,” in every sense of the word. He is not ashamed to show ordinary human feelings. He was truly noble, yet not the less meek and lowly. He was truly brave, yet did not think it unworthy of himself to show how intensely he suffered. He was truly resigned to the will of Heaven, yet thought it not contrary to right to express his sorrow when he was bereaved. He dignified human sympathy by even weeping with those that wept. How incomparably does this true nobility rise above the Stoic apathy, which condemned such feelings, and led Seneca, in an Epistle to Lucilius, to deprecate the indulgence of grief for a friend’s loss. “I myself,” says he, “wept so immoderately for Annæus Serenus, ... that I must, against my will, be reckoned among the examples of those whom grief has overcome. Nevertheless, to-day I condemn my error[[21]].” The last days of our Saviour’s life gave the world a perfect example of true dignity; yet, we can see, he counted it only fit, as a man, to show that he felt keenly reproach and pain. But it was the Saviour’s death, and the reason for which his death was deemed necessary by eternal justice, that took away for ever any foundation for Stoic pride and self-dependence. Nothing less than this was sufficient to atone for human error, and make it possible for man to obtain pardon, and be restored to the divine image which he had lost. It is thus he can become truly wise and lead a life worthy of himself as a man. And by the divine aid he will be able to rise to greater heights of self-control, than any to which pride of philosophy could raise him. The Stoics claimed for the wise man that he is infallible and impassive, that he is unmoved by outward events, with his mind ever in an even state[[22]]. That which the Stoic dreamed of, the Christian may become, but in a spiritual and far higher sense. There were those in the early Church, and there have been many since, who showed themselves philosophers indeed, “in honour and dishonour, in evil report and good report: as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and, behold, they lived; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things[[23]].” The great Christian Apostle was able to say, “I have learned, in whatever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me[[24]].” In this last sentence is the real secret of all true heroism. Christ is the source of true philosophy. He alone gives true strength of mind: He can render the believer omnipotent for good. “I can do all things,” says the Apostle; the power is from above, however. Without God, the strongest becomes a child. This fact, that God prepares the heart for virtue, and gives us strength to resist evil and do good, takes away all cause for boasting from even the most advanced in moral excellence. Whereas, the Stoic system, beginning and ending in self, with nothing else to trust to, caused man to become proud of his supposed advances. He thought even to become equal to the Most High. Indeed, so far was this feeling carried, that we have from a disciple of the system, such a boastful and (to our feeling) profane assertion as the following. Seneca, writing to Lucilius, after persuading him to diligently cultivate philosophy, says, then “Thou wilt excel all men, nor will the gods much excel thee.... To the wise man his own age lies open, as much as every age to God. There is one respect in which the wise man may be said to excel God; the latter is fearless by the gift of nature, the wise man by his own merits[[25]].”
We have one other point that requires attention in connexion with St Paul’s speech, and that is the future state. He laid before the Stoics, who heard him, the great fact of the existence of men, as individuals, after death; and not merely their existence, but their having to appear at the judgment seat of Christ, after being raised from the dead. The whole of this was foreign to the Stoic system. They had nothing, in their wisest speculations, approaching to these grand ideas, which the Apostle unfolded to them as divine mysteries. The early Stoics held that they would, after death, return to union with the universe. Their plan for getting rid of evil and regenerating all things, was one of periodical conflagrations. The Christian anastasis was something which unaided human intellects could not reach. Moreover, the future judgment of men, if it could have been received by the Stoics, would have modified their system in many respects. They would have had different views of the deity, if they had felt that, after all, they were to stand at his bar, to give an account of their words and works. They would have had a different view of life and of death, if they had known that when they ceased to live on earth, they would begin a new existence, in which they would be happy, or miserable, according as they submitted to, or rejected the will of God here. For the want of this great truth, their system was shortsighted and, in some respects, evil. If death were the end of man, as a separate person, why should it not be also held to be under the control of each? In fact the great lesson to learn was to become master in the last act, as well as in others. The system was not a training for immortality. This life was the scene of battle and of victory, to the Stoic. To the Christian, this life is the battle-field. He is contented to wait till another state of existence, for victory and peace. He can understand the meaning of the words of St Paul, “If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable[[26]].” With the hope of the future before him, however, he is content to suffer. He can bear suffering with fortitude, and can even triumph over it. For him, “this light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while he looks not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen.” The restoration of the body and soul to a state of perfection opens before the mind a treasure in future, for which present poverty is lightly borne. But to this glorious hope the Stoic was a stranger. He lived for this world. His sufferings, his trials, must all be borne unflinchingly, because only here would he bear them; only here would he, an offshoot of the deity, dwell as such. Therefore it was beneath him to say he suffered. He lived for himself, to raise himself above others. He must despise what lowered his existence. He must trample on pain. When the conflict was too severe, then the end also was at his command, and he might leave a scene which he could adorn no longer. Then there was an end to the whole matter[[27]]. The sublime doctrines of the Gospel, however, which open a splendid future to the virtuous soul, teach men a far different lesson. Moreover, the certainty of a just judgment leads them to be careful, how they pass through a scene, which is to them the only state of probation. They know that the future will be pregnant with evil to them, if they neglect, or abuse the time given to them for preparation. They look forward with no less certainty to a reward for well doing. They are sure there will be no mistake in the final adjudication. All these thoughts tend one way; to the promotion of holiness of life, and to those acts of kindness and charity, which are evidences of the love of God in the heart. These acts the great Judge has promised to reward, as though they were done to Himself. He says that, in that day, he will declare respecting each of these deeds of love, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me[[28]].”
I have thus endeavoured to point out the distinctive features of the two systems, where they came in contact. In the Christian religion, there is presented to the mind a God of holiness and purity and almighty power, a being who rules over all and works in man’s heart. In the Stoic philosophy, the Supreme Being is rather an idea than a person; a part of the universe, just as the soul is part of man. In the Christian system, the Lord of all is represented as constantly exercising a wise and judicious superintendence over all creation, blessing His works, and with unerring foresight, arranging all things by His providence. In the Stoic system, all things in heaven and earth were the subjects of an unalterable fate. Christianity teaches men that moral excellence is to be attained only by divine aid, and this aid is given to those who are penitent and humble; who seek God first, and show their love to Him in their lives. Stoicism taught that moral excellence was attainable by man alone, and that he might, unaided, raise himself to perfection, and make himself worthy of God. In the religion of Jesus, men are furnished with glorious views of a future life. The world to come is presented to the faithful, as a reward for virtue and piety. The resurrection of man, and the final setting in order of the universe at the great day of regeneration, when just judgment will be passed on good and evil angels and men, are held out as the great facts of future ages. In the Stoic philosophy, there is no future personal existence promised; and the regeneration is to be by fire consuming, at certain cycles, the works of the universe. Christianity had an influence on the later Stoics. Where-ever we see, in the works of these philosophers, clearer views of God, His providence, His work in the spirit; wherever we see clearer perceptions of human depravity and need for divine aid; where we perceive dawnings of hope of a future life for the soul; there we see, if not the direct influence, yet at least the spirit of Christianity making itself felt. On the other hand, if, in the Christian church, we see the necessitarian theory taking possession of men’s belief; if we perceive human pride asserting itself in raising moral virtues, or works of self-denial, or self-imposed austerities, into the place of Christ’s sacrifice, as the means of obtaining the divine favour; we shall not be mistaken, if we say that, in these respects, the Church has borrowed from the Porch, and departed from the simplicity of the Gospel.
Before I proceed to investigate the influence which the two systems have exerted one on the other, I purpose to devote a few pages to the consideration of the relative influence they have exerted on the world at large. Let us compare what Stoic philosophy did for those nations among whom it exerted an influence, with the effect which Christianity has wrought on those who have embraced its tenets and acknowledged its power. If we look at Athens, and ask ourselves what result the doctrines of the Stoic school had there, we shall find that, after centuries of effort, very little was effected for the benefit of our race. Doubtless a strong impression was made on certain minds; but, as far as the masses were concerned, the influence of the sect seems to have been small, and the beneficial result very insignificant indeed. With regard to the adherents of the system, we have little trustworthy information as to whether, in private life, their practice corresponded with their public professions. One is almost led, from their declarations that their philosophy raised them above the law of conduct binding the common herd, to suppose that, for some, the profession of being a Stoic was only a cloak. There seem to have been among them, men of similar feelings to the Antinomians of the Christian church. If a man were a philosopher, he was out of the ordinary pale, and might be almost what else he liked. The early Stoics were doubtless men of purer life than the masses around them, yet, from the remarks of those who have written very favourably of them, one is led to perceive that they were looked on more as professors of a system of excellent ethical philosophy, than as strict adherents to its precepts. Their principles were considered rather as intellectual, than heartfelt. As an instance, we may notice what Diogenes Laertes reports concerning Zeno. He says[[29]], “Παιδαρίοις τε ἐχρῆτο σπανίως, ἅπαξ ἢ δίς που παιδισκαρίω τινὶ, ἵνα μὴ δοκοίη μισογύνης εἶναι.” Now one must see that, if the record be true, then the purity of the Stoic was not thorough, though he was better than others perhaps. If the report be a myth, we perceive that in the writer’s opinion, gathered probably from observation, the precepts of philosophy were not so very binding, but that a professor of it might be none the less esteemed as a philosopher, for acting, now and then, as an ordinary man. He evidently thought that Zeno was not to be blamed, but rather commended, for showing, occasionally, that he did not wish to be thought too austere. The dogmas of this philosophy were public professions, but did not alter the heart, and control the whole life. It was powerless, as a moral lever, to raise the people. The masses remained idolatrous and deeply superstitious. Indeed the philosophers themselves conformed to the prevailing worship, and were not free from the prevailing superstitions. As ethical reformers, they seemed to have despaired of raising men, except in small numbers, to a better state. We look in vain for evidences of a wide-spread philanthropy. In fact, the system was one of egoïsm; and beginning in self, inculcating trust on self, it had no wide grasp of the duty and love, which men owe one to another, as children of a common Father.
If from Athens we go to Rome, and notice the effect produced when Stoic influence was at its highest point and most wide-spread, we are saddened by a similar absence of evidence that it effected any great amelioration. We are led to see the truth of Niebuhr’s remarks[[30]] respecting the state of the community, upon which Stoicism had exerted all its power. “Viewed as a national, or political history, the history of the Roman Empire is sad and discouraging in the last degree. We see that things had come to a point, at which no earthly power could afford any help: we now have the development of dead powers instead of that of a vital energy.” The age of the greatest fame of Rome, when Augustus ruled her destinies, and her power and wealth and wide-spread influence were so vast, was not a happy one for the people. There was no fellowship between men, uniting them in feeling and for mutual benefit. Perhaps half the people were slaves and degraded, in the midst of surrounding splendour. Arnold[[31]] has well described the moral deficiency; “There were no public hospitals, no institutions for the relief of the infirm and poor, no societies for the improvement of the condition of mankind, from motives of charity. Nothing was done to promote the instruction of the lower classes, nothing to mitigate the evils of domestic slavery. Charity and general philanthropy were so little regarded as duties, that it requires a very extensive acquaintance with the literature of the time to find any allusion to them.” As long as it had an influence, Stoicism taught men rather to bear the evils of life with indifference, than to get rid of the evils that were in the world, by schemes for the social happiness and moral elevation of the people. So that superstition and grossest idolatry were rampant, and vices of the most lamentable kind were indulged in, almost without producing any shame.
In proportion as Christianity won its way, these things disappeared; and in proportion to the purity of the Christian religion, and its freedom from admixture of extraneous principles and influences, has been its success in raising a fallen world. Whatever power Stoicism possessed for good, the religion of Jesus also possessed, and in a higher degree. In addition, it brought into play enormous and superhuman resources; high and holy motives; and doctrines which originated in heaven, and partook of the purity of their origin. The consequence has been marvellous. The progress of this religion in face of opposition was such as to afford ample proof of its divinity. And as it progressed, it proved its mission by raising the fallen, blessing the wretched, despising not even the most lowly, seeking the most sinful; that by miracles wrought in the souls of men, it might show that it was fitted for the high mission which it claimed. Men were no longer left to grovel in idolatry, and consequent imitation in their lives of the conduct of the unholy beings whom they worshipped. Like St Paul on Mars’ Hill, every true herald of the cross has set before men a holy God, as the sole object of the reverence and obedience of their hearts. They have been taught love to God, as the highest duty of the creature; and as a consequence, love to their fellow-men. Mutual kindness and charity have done marvels, in removing the various calamities of this life; and where these have been irremoveable, the efforts of the disciples of the Crucified One have been put forth, to make them weigh less heavily on the sons of affliction. The poor have been cared and provided for. To them the gospel of mercy has been preached, and they have been taught to have faith in a future life, in which the wrongs of this will be set right. Christianity has brought civilization in its train. The marvellous progress of men in these latter days may be traced to the exalting influence of this noble creed, which builds again the ruins of the human soul; and has nothing less for its object than man’s restoration to the image of God. No one that reflects on the wonders it has produced; on the efforts it has put forth for the regeneration of our race; on the energy it still displays, in trying to give blessing and help to those who sit in darkness, and are in need; on the success that has crowned the efforts of the past, inciting to fresh ones for the future; can fail to see the finger of God. We gratefully acknowledge that all praise is due to Him for the gift of such grand means for raising a fallen world; for a system, which “has the promise of the life which now is, as well as of that which is to come.”
By these remarks, I am far from wishing to imply that there is not much to lament in Christian countries, or that since Christianity has been acknowledged and professed by a great part of the world, she has succeeded in making even the noblest of her sons faultless and sinless. Only one such man has ever trod our earth, and He was more than man, and shewed His divinity in the midst of human weakness and pain. All others are liable to error. And we must confess that, when we see the evils still remaining in Christendom, there is room for sadness; but there is none for despair.
Moreover, no one would depreciate the Stoic system, because its disciples did not act up to its precepts, in every respect. Epictetus declared[[32]], there were many who were philosophers in name, far from being so in deed; and Seneca assures us[[33]], that Stoic philosophers “did not say how they themselves lived, but how men ought to live.” Yet I quite agree with Gataker[[34]], that there were well-attested instances, in almost every age, of adherents to the system, who, by their faithful observance of their principles in the conduct of their lives, might put to shame many professors of Christianity, and cause them to blush.