Many a time, when life went hard with me, I have betaken myself to the
Stoics, and not all in vain. Marcus Aurelius has often been one of my
bedside books; I have read him in the night watches, when I could not
sleep for misery, and when assuredly I could have read nothing else. He
did not remove my burden; his proofs of the vanity of earthly troubles
availed me nothing; but there was a soothing harmony in his thought which
partly lulled my mind, and the mere wish that I could find strength to
emulate that high example (though I knew that I never should) was in
itself a safeguard against the baser impulses of wretchedness. I read
him still, but with no turbid emotion, thinking rather of the man than of
the philosophy, and holding his image dear in my heart of hearts.
Of course the intellectual assumption which makes his system untenable by
the thinker of our time is: that we possess a knowledge of the absolute.
Noble is the belief that by exercise of his reason a man may enter into
communion with that Rational Essence which is the soul of the world; but
precisely because of our inability to find within ourselves any such sure
and certain guidance do we of to-day accept the barren doom of
scepticism. Otherwise, the Stoic's sense of man's subordination in the
universal scheme, and of the all-ruling destiny, brings him into touch
with our own philosophical views, and his doctrine concerning the
"sociable" nature of man, of the reciprocal obligations which exist
between all who live, are entirely congenial to the better spirit of our
day. His fatalism is not mere resignation; one has not only to accept
one's lot, whatever it is, as inevitable, but to accept it with joy, with
praises. Why are we here? For the same reason that has brought about
the existence of a horse, or of a vine, to play the part allotted to us
by Nature. As it is within our power to understand the order of things,
so are we capable of guiding ourselves in accordance therewith; the will,
powerless over circumstance, is free to determine the habits of the soul.
The first duty is self-discipline; its correspondent first privilege is
an inborn knowledge of the law of life.
But we are fronted by that persistent questioner who will accept no _a
priori_ assumption, however noble in its character and beneficent in its
tendency. How do we know that the reason of the Stoic is at harmony with
the world's law? I, perhaps, may see life from a very different point of
view; to me reason may dictate, not self-subdual, but self-indulgence; I
may find in the free exercise of all my passions an existence far more
consonant with what seems to me the dictate of Nature. I am proud;
Nature has made me so; let my pride assert itself to justification. I am
strong; let me put forth my strength, it is the destiny of the feeble to
fall before me. On the other hand, I am weak and I suffer; what avails a
mere assertion that fate is just, to bring about my calm and glad
acceptance of this down-trodden doom? Nay, for there is that within my
soul which bids me revolt, and cry against the iniquity of some power I
know not. Granting that I am compelled to acknowledge a scheme of things
which constrains me to this or that, whether I will or no, how can I be
sure that wisdom or moral duty lies in acquiescence? Thus the unceasing
questioner; to whom, indeed, there is no reply. For our philosophy sees
no longer a supreme sanction, and no longer hears a harmony of the
universe.
"He that is unjust is also impious. For the Nature of the Universe,
having made all reasonable creatures one for another, to the end that
they should do one another good; more or less, according to the several
persons and occasions; but in no wise hurt one another; it is manifest
that he that doth transgress against this her will, is guilty of impiety
towards the most ancient and venerable of all the Deities." How gladly
would I believe this! That injustice is impiety, and indeed the supreme
impiety, I will hold with my last breath; but it were the merest
affectation of a noble sentiment if I supported my faith by such a
reasoning. I see no single piece of strong testimony that justice is the
law of the universe; I see suggestions incalculable tending to prove that
it is not. Rather must I apprehend that man, in some inconceivable way,
may at his best moments represent a Principle darkly at strife with that
which prevails throughout the world as known to us. If the just man be
in truth a worshipper of the most ancient of Deities, he must needs
suppose, either that the object of his worship belongs to a fallen
dynasty, or--what from of old has been his refuge--that the sacred fire
which burns within him is an "evidence of things not seen." What if I am
incapable of either supposition? There remains the dignity of a hopeless
cause--"_sed victa Catoni_." But how can there sound the hymn of praise?
"That is best for everyone, which the common Nature of all doth send unto
everyone, and then is it best, when she doth send it." The optimism of
Necessity, and perhaps, the highest wisdom man can attain unto. "Remember
that unto reasonable creatures only is it granted that they may willingly
and freely submit." No one could be more sensible than I of the
persuasiveness of this high theme. The words sing to me, and life is
illumined with soft glory, like that of the autumn sunset yonder.
"Consider how man's life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart
meek and contented: even as if a ripe olive falling should praise the
ground that bare her, and give thanks to the tree that begat her." So
would I fain think, when the moment comes. It is the mood of strenuous
endeavour, but also the mood of rest. Better than the calm of achieved
indifference (if that, indeed, is possible to man); better than the
ecstasy which contemns the travail of earth in contemplation of bliss to
come. But, by no effort attainable. An influence of the unknown powers;
a peace that falleth upon the soul like dew at evening.