[Sidenote: Ancient philosophy.]
But philosophy attempted something higher and nobler—even to reform morals, especially at Rome. The Romans had but little taste for abstract speculations. And hence they did not extend the boundaries of thought and reason beyond the limits which the Greeks arrived at. But they adopted what was most practical in the Grecian philosophy, and applied it to common life.
If there is any thing lofty in paganism, it is philosophy. It proposed to seek the beautiful, the true, the good; to divert men from degrading pursuits; to set a low estimate on money, and material gains, and empty pleasures. It was calm, fearless, and inquiring. All sects of philosophers despised the pursuits of the vulgar, and affected wisdom. Minerva, not Venus, not Diana, was the goddess of their idolatry. It deified reason, and sought to control the passions. It longed for the realms of truth and love. It believed in the divine, and detested the gross. Hence the philosophers were not eager for outward rewards, and kept aloof from the demoralizing pleasures of the people. They attired themselves in a different garb, lived retired, and studied the welfare of the soul. Mind was adored, and matter depreciated. They were esoteric men who abhorred vice, and sought the higher good. Morally, they were in general superior to other men, as they were in intellectual gifts and attainments. And they opposed the popular current of opinions, and stemmed popular vices. They were the reformers of the ancient world, the sages—earnest men, advocating the great certitudes of love and friendship and patriotism—the lofty spirits of their time, preoccupied and rapt in their noble inquiries into nature and God. Look at Socrates, so careless of dress, walking barefooted, giving what he had away, courting mortification, and disdaining popular favor, if he could only persuade his pupils of the greatness of the infinite and imperishable. Look at Pythagoras, refusing political office, and consecrating himself to teaching. Look to Xenophanes, wandering over Sicily in the holy enthusiasm of a rhapsodist of truth. Look at Parmenides, forsaking patrimonial wealth, that he might teach the distinction between ideas obtained through the reason, and ideas obtained through the senses. Look at Heraclitus, refusing the splendid offers of Darius, and retiring to solitudes, that he might explore the depths of his own nature. See Anaxagoras, allowing his fortune to melt away, that he might discover the many faces of nature. See Empedocles, giving away his fortune to poor girls, that he might attack the Anthropomorphism of his day; or Democritus declining the sovereignty of Abdera, that he might have leisure to speculate on the distinction between reflection and sensation; or Diogenes living in a tub; or Plato in his garden; or Aristotle in the shady side of the Lyceum; or Zeno guarding the keys of the citadel. See the good Aurelius, in later and more corrupt ages, forsaking the pleasures of an imperial throne, that he might meditate on his soul's welfare, or the slave Epictetus, unfolding the richest lessons of moral wisdom to a corrupt and listless generation.
[Sidenote: The Romans fail to appreciate philosophy.]
The loftier forms of the ancient philosophy were never popular, even at Athens. The popular teachers were sophists and rhetoricians, who, as men of fashion and ambition, despised the sublime speculations of Socrates and Plato. The Platonic philosophy had a hold only of a few, and these were men of powerful minds, but stood aloof from the prevailing tastes and pleasures. It had still less influence on the Roman mind, which was practical and worldly. Platonism opposed the sensualism and materialism of the times, believed in eternal ideas, sought the knowledge of God as the great end of life—a sublime realism which was hardly more appreciated than Christianity itself. Platonism was doubtless the highest effort of uninspired men, under the influence of pagan ideas and institutions, to attain a knowledge of God and the soul. It gloried in immortality, and claimed for man a nature akin to the deity, and destined to a higher development after death. It endeavored to understand our complex nature, and trace a connection between earth and heaven. It sought to distinguish between forms and essence, the spiritual and the sensual. It spiritualized the popular mythology, and insisted on the unity on which it fundamentally rests. It did not sneer at religious earnestness, and looked upon the beatitudes of the soul as the highest good of earth.
[Sidenote: Platonism.]
But such knowledge was too wonderful for the Romans. It was high, and they could not attain unto it. Its ends were too spiritual and elevated. There was scarcely an eminent Roman who adopted the system. Cicero came the nearest to understand its spiritual import, but it was too lofty even for him. He composed a republic and a treatise of laws, in which reason and the rule of right should be made the guide of states and empires. In this way Platonism, as a sublime hypothesis, entered into jurisprudence. It affected the thinking of master minds, even as it entered into Christianity at a later period, and formed an alliance with it. But, practically, it did not have much effect on life and manners. It was regarded as a system of mysticism, cherished by a very small esoteric body of believers, who were spurned as dreamers. They were looked upon very much as the transcendentalists of our own day are regarded, with whom the great body of even thinkers had but little sympathy. There was no more respect for Plato at Rome than there is for Kant among the merchants of London. His name may have been pronounced with an oracular admiration, but there was no profound appreciation of him, no general knowledge of his writings, no sympathy for his doctrines. They were to the Romans foolishness, somewhat after the sense that Christianity was to the Greeks. They transcended their experience, went beyond the limits of their thoughts, and sought spiritual certitudes which they disdained.
[Sidenote: The Aristotelian philosophy.]
[Sidenote: Its failure.]
The philosophy of Aristotle was nearly as distasteful to the Romans as that of Plato, and it was less lofty. It had a skeptical tendency, and excluded scientific light from the sphere of activity, and inculcated a proud and self-reliant spirit. The academics denied the possibility of arriving at truth with certainty; and, therefore, held it uncertain whether the gods existed or not, whether the soul is mortal or survives the body, whether virtue is preferable to vice, or the contrary. They sneered at religious earnestness, and tacitly encouraged influences greatly to be dreaded. They held in supreme contempt the popular religion, and made a mockery of religious ceremonies. They undermined superstition, but weakened religion also by substituting nothing instead of the absurdities they brushed away. Lucian was a type of these philosophers, and his bitter sarcasms were more powerful than the logic of Cicero to destroy what could not be proved. The academics may be said to have been the rationalists of antiquity. The old religions could not maintain their ground before the inquiring skepticism and sarcastic wit of these irreligious philosophers, who contented themselves with a lifeless deism—a system which did not, indeed, deny the existence and providence of God, but which attributed to the Deity an indifference respecting the affairs of men. Dr. Neander, in the first volume of the "History of the Church," has shown the effects of the unbelief of the academics on the state of society at Rome, especially on the men of rank and fashion. Infidelity, in any form, can have no conservative influence. It is designed to pull down, and not to build up. Superstition, with all its puerilities, is better than a scornful and proud philosophy which takes no cognizance of popular wants and aspirations.